Globetrotters

Border Crossing
Or
Gringos in Hell

I actually considered calling this “Gringos Go to Hell” as that was the distinct feeling we got from the Panamanian border officials. We’ve driven vehicles across a variety of borders worldwide & NEVER endured a 7 hour transit time! Neither have we ever encountered paperwork so complex that we needed to hire a border “helper” to get us through the process. Unheard of!

In my usual O/C approach I did exhaustive research on documents required to cross the border into Costa Rica with a Panamanian registered vehicle. I felt totally prepared for a smooth crossing, though Hans & I did have a ‘moment’ when I told him I wanted him to make 6-8 copies of the paperwork & he refused & only made 4, which he thought was already absurd. More on this later-LOL!

We drove up to the border at 9 AM & went to the vehicle control window-all procedures are handled through a window so that you may enjoy the heat while the border officials keep cool. The woman scanned my paperwork, and then shoved it back at me while blasting me with machine gun Spanish. She gave a dismissive wave of her hand & walked off, not even bothering to try to explain. At this point a border “helper” came to our aid & explained that I didn’t have the paper to prove we had paid the taxes on the car. I told him that we’d just bought the car last month so all taxes were paid up. He brightened up & went inside to let Frau Hitler know this. I watched through the window hopefully but she waved him off with the same dismissive gesture. He returned with the bad news that Frau Hitler insisted on this document & we had to drive back into David, a city about an hour’s drive back into Panama-GRRRRR!

Back we drove! It took us quite awhile of circling the city to find the customs office hidden atop a hill there. Now perhaps you’re wondering as we did why we had to drive to a customs office in the city when we were at the customs office at the border????? This remains a mystery, along with why every other person we met in David spoke perfect English BUT no one at customs either spoke or understood a word. Mighty suspicious if you ask me!

The city customs guy told us we had to go to the bank to buy special stamps to put on this special paper for the very special Frau Hitler. Off we went to the bank. While we stood in line, we got a parking ticket. That did it for Hans! He grabbed the ticket from the windshield & stalked off to find the parking police-not a good day for us official-wise for sure-LOL! When he found the woman he went ballistic in Spanglish, wildly gesticulating & telling her that the bank cop had told him to park there. Luckily she wasn’t a Frau Hitler & seemed amused by his antics so she tore up the ticket.

From the bank we headed back to the hilltop customs office & after more waiting FINALLY got the special paper. By now it’s noon, we’ve wasted 3 hours on Frau Hitler’s power trip & we are TWO GROUCHY GRINGOS!! Another hour of driving & we’re back where we started.

This time Frau Hitler stamps the paper & we’re off to the next stop-the police, who must also print out a special paper to prove we have no fines against the car-good thing that parking cop tore up the ticket!

We stand waiting with our border “helper” while the 2 officials studiously ignore us. They avoid any eye contact, staring at their computers, laughing raucously & talking together while either playing a game or watching porn, who knew? Who cared? I just wanted my damn paper stamped BUT I learned long ago in a very hard lesson not to mess with people who have power over me. So I play Ally McBeal games in my head. If you watched the TV show you know the games I mean….the ones where she opens her mouth & fire shoots out to scorch the offender, or she punches him in the face & his head flies off & rolls away. Thus entertaining myself, I wait with Hans & the border “helper”. By now I’ve come to believe all this hassling is to provide employment for these border “helpers”. I press my lips tightly to stifle myself-a rare feat seldom witnessed.

After torturing us for at least 30 minutes they deign to acknowledge our presence & print the paperwork out, sign & stamp it. It’s all I can do to manage a polite ‘gracias’.

The border “helper” informs us that he needs yet another copy of some paper-by now we’ve used up all 4 of the copies Hans made. I resist the urge to engage in a marital moment at the border, since I can’t risk getting hauled off to jail-LOL! We trot across the dusty street to the photocopy place & make a few more copies, then share a laugh at the insanity of it all.

FINALLY after 2 long hours we make it through to the Costa Rican side-WHOOHOO! What an amazing difference! Border officials here have friendly faces! They speak Spanish slowly & simply so that we actually understand them & they make the effort to understand us too!
We’re through the border process in less than an hour! BY now it’s 4:00 & we’re drenched in sweat & covered with street dust & grime. I feel like a fish that’s been dragged through batter & rolled in flour EXCEPT that instead of being tossed into the fryer I get into the car & blast the A/C-AHHHHHH!

We take off for Golfito, a town about an hour away where I’ve booked us a room at The Hotel Las Gaviotas. By the time we arrive we’ve dried to a crusty finish, glazed & dazed. As soon as we check in we dash to the bar & order 2 Imperials-the local brew. Indeed we feel like royalty, having survived the fires of the border crossing from hell to enjoy the cool pool at Las Gaviotas.

GOLFITO

Golfito (little gulf) is a tiny town tucked away in a bay off the Golfo Dulce (Sweet Gulf), one of only 3 tropical fjords in the world. It’s a sport fishing haven with placid water over 600 feet deep! Across the gulf from Golfito is the Osa Peninsula, the most remote & rugged area of Costa Rica. We were immediately struck by the differences between Panama & Costa Rica. Costa Rica has more lush landscape & more poor people than Panama. The jungle starts right up the hill behind Golfito’s 2 main streets.

The town reminds us of an African shantytown, with shacks built of wood, somewhat dilapidated, metal roofs rusting through. In Panama even the poorest village we’ve seen has houses built of cement blocks, painted in bright colors with shiny metal roofs. The strangest contrast though is the fact that Panamanians are incredible litterbugs compared to the Costa Ricans! Trash heaps decorate people’s yards & beaches are strewn with garbage here, while Costa Rican yards are swept neat & tidy & beaches had little to no litter! This is odd considering that Panamanians are extremely clean; cheap hotels & public restrooms pose no problems. Not sure what the deal is with that? Maybe Costa Rica’s long history of ecotourism has made people more sensitive to the environment? We also saw people picking up cans & bottles to recycle & 2 backyard recycle ‘centers’ in Golfito. This is absent here, sad to say. So maybe tourism can have a positive effect on a country!

We spent Sat. poking around beautiful downtown Golfito & even did a bit of souvenir shopping. Next day we decided to take a boat ride across the gulf to the peninsula & visit Puerto Jimenez. Several ‘captains’ offered to take us across for $40 one way but we like to travel with the locals so we took the ‘ferry’-LOL! This is a low rider boat, you have to crouch low to get to your seat as the roof is only a bit over 4 feet high! It seats maybe 20 people squashed into 2 rows of double plastic bucket seats-not for people with claustrophobia or who need much personal space! Hans & I were crammed next to each other & still no room for the people to walk up & down seeking seats without bumping into your legs. We were told to arrive 30 minutes prior to departure so we enjoyed sitting in a pool of sweat while waiting for the boat to leave. Luckily a breeze eased my torture & once the boat took off it was great! We couldn’t see much, set down low in the water as we were, but then there wasn’t much to see-water water everywhere & not a drop to drink! A smooth ride & 45 minutes later Puerto Jimenez. Such a deal for $10 round trip!

Fodor’s guide calls Puerto Jimenez a ‘one iguana town with a certain frontier charm’. Unbelievably it’s the largest town on the Osa Peninsula & the last before you fall off the grid-no electricity or phones south of town! The roads aren’t paved so you eat & breathe dust while a light coating helps to absorb the sweat in the humidity of the mid-day sun. Hans was driven mad by the dust so I reminded him of the ‘red dust’ in Africa, where we were so covered with dust by the end of the day driving with windows down (no A/C!) that the nightly tidy up bowl was a mud pit-LOL! Things that are adventures in youth become annoyances with age! We had a decent meal & some brewskies at a local eatery then gratefully headed back to the boat.

Our hotel, Las Gaviotas, was the best part of this trip. It’s in an idyllic setting overlooking the tranquil gulf, with a perfect sunset view from the restaurant. They have a great chef who cooks outstanding traditional fish & meat dishes so we stuffed ourselves nightly. Dangerously delicious!

The return border crossing was a total non-event! We were through both sides in less than 1 hour amazingly! Mission accomplished & visa renewed. Here we are back in our home sweet condo where Hans spent much of the day figuring out our mail system with Earth Class Mail, our virtual mail delivery! Different country, same stuff-LOL!