You know that moment when you have that slow, horrible realisation that you have f***ed up in a major way? Well, that was me this morning. As I walked back up to the border to catch a bus to start my Panamanian adventure, I thought to myself, “Did I actually officially leave Costa Rica yesterday??” The answer to that question was unfortunately a terrifying NO. As I had entered the country the previous day, it wasn’t just a matter of sneaking over the remarkably leaky border, officially exiting Costa Rica and continuing on my way. I had to do things properly.
Back at Panama Immigration, I tried to explain the situation and the fact that I needed to officially exit Panama to be able to officially exit Costa Rica, then re-enter Panama again. I was told that the exiting side of Panama was shut and that I would need to take a taxi to the ‘other office’ five kilometres down the Costa Rican road. I explained I didn’t have enough money for that and that the Panamanian ATMs were at present emptier than a politician’s promise. I was then taken down a souk-like maze of ‘free-zone’ shops to an ATM which run out of green stuff just as it was my turn. Fortunately, another few twists and turns led us to another ATM which had better manners and I quickly cashed up as much as foreigners are allowed – USD250. At least it was more than my previous reserves of USD11.
I was then ushered into a taxi and told it would set me back USD20 for the driver to take me there, wait, then bring me back. I had no choice though so reluctantly agreed. Once at the ‘other office’, I tried explaining again but was having difficulties having anyone understand my predicament. Eventually, I got my point across (After a Costa Rican Health official tried to whisk me away for a random malaria test…) and the security guard took me up to a Honduran Immigration official to whom I could explain the situation. After taking my passport and deliberating with her supervisor, my Panamanian entry stamp had a big red ‘cancelled’ stamp superimposed on it. For not properly exisiting Costa Rica.
At last I could now do the righty Costa Rican side. By now, my taxi had been dispatched by security with a stern warning about ripping tourists off so I waited on the side of the road for a taxi to take me back to the border for the more appropriate fare of USD3. It was little wonder I had overlooked the Costa Rican Immigration Office as it was a ‘blink and you miss it’ type of affair over the road from its ostentatious Panamanian counterpart. Passport appropriately stamped, it was then time to re-cross the border. Officially.
Surprisingly, having an entry stamp cancelled raises eyebrows when trying to re-enter a country. I had to explain what had happened and waited for the immigration official to check the records to verify my story. Then came the next sticking point. Supposedly, you need to have an outward ticket via something to somewhere to be able to enter the country. The immigration official I saw yesterday made no such inquiries and I thought that was that. Alas, no. This official decided to do his job properly and wouldn’t even entertain my ticket from Costa Rica back home as a valid option. I had decided I would fly from Panama City back to San Jose but hadn’t booked my ticket as yet. As it was a no ticket-no entry type of deal, I decided to find somewhere to sit, have something to eat and organise the flight in question.
Back in line at the Immigration office and I ended up with the official from the previous day. I had to explain everything again but was processed relatively quickly. And you guessed it, he didn’t ask for evidence of an outgoing journey!
Then, it was just a case of jumping on a bus and leaving the craziness behind. I jumped off at La Concepcion, got incredibly dodgy directions for where to catch the next bus, but after a magical, mystical tour and asking other people, eventually got there. I reached my intended destination, Volcan, upon dusk and got directions to a cheap hospedaje which turned out neat and clean with a super friendly owner. And that, my friends, was how my first day in Panama panned out.
Wild Woman Wandering 