Without the means to pay $300 dollars to fly to Costa Rica, Cailey and I bravely (I thought) purchased Tica Bus tickets from the Albrook Mall to leave for Costa Rica at 11pm on Friday.
We bought the Panamanian equivalent of Dramamine, figuring it might bump off a few hours of misery. It always did with the China Town bus from Boston to New York City… four hours. The Tica Bus… seventeen.

I told my sister we were taking the bus, and my mom called and asked nervously if that was such a good idea. Eventually I got it out of her that she had read the blog ¨Five Ways to Die in Panama¨ and was imagining us flying through unpaved highways on a diablo rojo all the way to Costa Rica.

We brought pillows and blankets, provisions, and charged ipods, preparing for the longest night of our lives (well, since my 7th grade band went to a festival and we rode the bus all night to Virginia Beach, but I was young and spry then).
Happily there were only about ten people on the bus and after chatting for a bit, Cailey and I each claimed a seat and took some Dramamine. For once in my life I was glad to be short because I fit perfectly in fetal position on the surprisingly cushy seats.
I woke up eight hours later when a border control man called for all of us to get out.
The ten of us stood groggily around, waiting for about half an hour and finally they searched through all of our luggage and even brought a drug dog in. Then we lined up again and got our passports stamped and while we were just finishing the Tica Bus slowly started rolling away down the street. Cailey and I broke into a solid walk jog, fearing that the bus was leaving us behind. We got laughed at by the Tica employees who yelled for us to grab onto the bumper. Apparently the border must be crossed on foot.
Then we waited in another line to get our passports checked again. A man was selling coffee on the road and people were chatting happily, and drinking coffee, possibly excited for what across the border had in store. Looking around I was the only one who was even slightly perturbed to be waiting in line at seven in the morning. Maybe it was the Dramamine talking or maybe it was Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from our ordeal at Immigration the day before (see the blog by Cailey).

Our bags were searched again and we finally got back on the Tica Bus. I curled up again and fell asleep despite the two movies that were played (A pirated version of “Jumper” and “Stuck on You”, dubbed) and slept the rest of the way. Seriously.
When the bus rolled in at 3 pm I was positive that it was the best bus ride of my life. Next time I’m going all the way to Mexico.

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Filed under: Country Guide, Culture, Reviews on April 15th, 2008