Good Bye Panama

In the morning I woke to church bells from across the road and Spanish singing hymns, a landmark to what day of the week it is.  The drivers are having breakfast and I had a fantastic sleep, much better than the morning before.
 Juan, Eyda and the team arrive for breakfast.  Juan insists that Curt and I have a maid that is an amazing cook and we are all sitting in the apartment’s dining room to experience the food.  Yes, she certainly is a great cook; delicious.  

We move on to Juan’s cousins house a few doors down from our apartment.  Curt is playing the guitar, Kim and Alicia have their own hammocks, Doug and I are sitting and chatting with Juan, Eyda.  This is relaxing as it has been for the last day, contrast to our loaded week earlier.

We go back to the estate and relax some more; Curt hammers out some blogs.  Juan has some guests, and as usual the social butterfly is running late...we need to get moving, we are late for our last night of Carnivale.  The drivers Dorion and Jose Luis are waiting outside.  They jump at the opportunity to take one last picture with us.  Curt said afterward that Dorion was getting emotional.  It seems other people that he chauffeurs do not give the same Canadian treatment and inclusion that we gave them. Juan makes it out of the house finally and we are off.

We start driving to Ocu.  Apparently Ocu it is the best place to see the original Panamanian culture of dancing and the fine handmade dresses.  On the way we got lost.  Juan: “Pull over ask ask them.  Tell them that I am Juan Varela, they will tell us where to go.”

We finally make it to Ocu with a few wrong turns, park and the SUV’s amongst the trash and street dogs.  We walk up a well-lit alley; dancing, chanting and drums are happening in the back.  Traditional dresses arrive in droves.  There is a formal order to the dance and we all are not 100% certain to how it works.  Juan has a way of parting a crowd and he finds us a spot at the front.  All members of the family are part of this tradition and we stand wondering why this amazing dance is happening in there and the majority of the town is outside getting drunk.

We continue on.  Some street gambling catches Curt and Alicia’s eye.  Eyda I think is interested and she serves as a translator.

Kim spots a pick pocketer, he was hovering over Juan earlier.  Curt sees a need to tell Juan, with Juan’s reply “I know, and I told him to get lost before he gets hurt!”  I wondered who he was expecting was going to hurt this guy?  Curt?  Me?  Then I realized Dorion and Jose Luise are big guys and likely were hired to do more than just drive.

It is a relaxed atmosphere on the streets and I begin to think the best of the night is behind us…

We walk to a building that looks like castle ruins and we try to get in: $10 cover and no shorts.  Since Juan’s company is the main endorser of the place, he convinces then to let us in and we change into pants.

The dancing begins, it is amazing, the dresses are beautiful, the jewelry is stunning and the children are adorable.  The best part of our night has just begun. 

It was getting late and we still have to drive 2 hours to catch a bus in Santiago.  We arrive at the bus shelter.  Everyone is tired except Doug and me; surprisingly I have good energy.  We all eat and get a hotel room for $40.  Kim takes a shower and we all freshen up.  Curt, Alicia and Kim fall asleep for 15 minutes, their head didn’t even hit the pillow!  Half hour in the hotel and we leave for the bus.  It is 2:00am now.

We wait in a bus shelter, Alicia fall asleep on the bench, curt plays the guitar, and I climb the bus shelter… I realize I miss rock climbing!

Bus is late; we board after 3:00am.

We drive a few hours through the night, I think I may have slept for a few hours.  It was odd on the bus – when asleep you feel half awake, when you are awake you feel half asleep: uncomfortable.

We reach the boarder and all get off and wait on the curb because the boarder does not open for another hour.  We are confused to how this makes sense?  Why are we here now? 

We all take our luggage off the bus and bring it to a small room with two tables… all 50 passengers.  We are uneasy because we do not know what is happening.  Alicia pulls her pink bag into the room; a cockroach runs under Alicia’s bag, I can see her unease.  I am afraid that I will be separated with my luggage, we all are!

Two young Mexican guys are called into the back room, with black curtains…I would not want to be them. It begins with Alicia. They take her bag, place it on a table and open it. Everyone in the room is watching the border police search through her stuff. I think she packed everything so tightly that she got off easy. Doug is searched and the guy wants a Rotary banner. I was searched last, it was quick and easy. The guy commented on my Seco, and then I moved on. We line up at Panama Migration, then walk across the border 250m to the bus, which is now in Costa Rica. We get our bags searched again by Costa Rican Immigration, but we are trained now, and know what to expect. On the bus again, glad that the border is behind us…a truly draining experience.

On the bus (and border) for more than 8 hours before we get a stop for food. I can feel my blood sugar bottoming out and I struggle to eat. I know my body needs something, and the Gatorade helps. Another 4 hours and we’re arriving into San Jose. Finally. The road between Santiago, Panama and San Jose, Costa Rica is called the Highway of Hell. We all agree.

MC