The thought of leaving Costa Rica for another journey was certainly an idea that Heather and I thought twice about. I mean, why leave such a beautiful and Friendly place, where all of our worries about the 'outside' world seemed to dissipate? But, we decided that Costa Ricas' neighbor; Panama, might spawn an interesting adventure.

So we loaded up our packs and we were soon boarding a southbound bus from the Estacion De Coca Cola to the border town of Sixaola. Our final destination would be a small island located on the northeastern coast of Panama in the Caribbean named Bocas Del Toro (Mouth of the Bull). The only 'Head of the Bull' I expected to see via Panama was the bus ride. Anyone who's experienced a Central American bus system can attest that they don't always offer the most pleasant ride.

Our fortune deemed us well though, and the ride was exceptional. Most major bus companies in Costa Rica offer direct lines to extended destinations. Along with timeliness, comfort does go hand in hand with the modernized buses of Costa Rica, in use today. We found ourselves winding through lush emerald-green jungle, wide-open pastureland and heavenly blue ocean vistas. The ride did turn disheartening, though, just south of Puerto Limon. There the road turned from pavement to hell.

The sights of tropical wonder transformed an uglier image with every creeping mile as our bus entered the enslavement towns born from the plantations of Chiquita Banana. Our window to the world became much smaller from inside that bus as miles upon miles of banana trees crowded from our view the heartbeat of small town life which many parts of Central America are noted for.
The towns we did see all wore the Chiquita name and the buildings, many of which served as the locals' homes, were shrouded with corporate blue paint as a testament that the company could fly their colors high and wide. After what seemed an eternity of banana trees and a sore bottom, Heather claimed that she could see the border town off in the distance. All I saw was another typical looking town with a small store and some banana trees cropping up from the already scorched Earth.
But our bus had rumbled to a stop here and our crew was directed to exit this bus and hike the remainder of the way to the border of Panama. There we would enter the country via footbridge. So, Heather and I strapped on our backpacks and made way to the next initiation. With relative ease, we were greeted and processed by armed guards totting semi-automatic rifles. But I must say the entire process was effortless and those in authority were very friendly and helpful.

It is important to remember that Panama requires not only your passport documentation but also a tourist card which must be purchased pre-entry into Panama. We took this matter up at the Panamanian embassy in Costa Rica before our departure. The cost is minimal and the headaches of bureaucracy it saves you are huge! Our focal point was to get on the island as fast as we could. So, we fetched a taxi to the town of Almirante ( or at Chiquiri Grande), where a water taxi awaits passengers travelling to Bocas.

The small craft sat 10-12 people comfortably, and the sights along the way were interesting, yet not worthy of our film. Many cargo ships and industrialized ports line this particular stretch of coast along the way to Bocas, so we opted for a short nap. Arriving on the island, we were greeted by locals at a small bar and restaurant named Barra Roja. The island consists of one main road with small shops and a central town park. Off the main strip run many smaller dirt roads throughout the island.

All scattered with homes and small hostel-type hotels. At Barra Roja, Heather and I immediately ordered fruit rum punch drinks which aimed straight for that spot of the island traveler. During this time at the Barra, we befriended an American named James. Our new friend had spent many years on Bocas in which he'd travel to and from the island during the off-season of his work back in the states. James filled us in on the sights, gossip and the over all beat of Bocas. He promised us a trip on his small skiff to a chain island off of Bocas named Cara Naro.
It was there that James was in the process of building his home In the next coming days he was taking the short boat ride over to check on the progress. James promised some of the best snorkeling in the area just off of Cara Naro. We gladly accepted this offer. We bid him farewell and set out to find a place to stay. Bocas offers many affordable rooms and accommodations which range from low to high budget, although 'high' budget is relative to the make-up of this rustic island.

Heather and I were fortunate to strike up a conservation with a local couple who were renting out an apartment directly overhead of the small tienda we were shopping in. Their names have slipped by me now, but they were two of the friendliest and giving people I have ever met in my life. After a brief introduction, we settled into a spacious one bedroom apartment, adjacent to theirs. The place was perfect! Clean and bright pastel colored rooms with a small kitchenette, bathroom, and living quarters.

For five dollars a night, I counted this as our first blessing. Our first day on Bocas began with a small continental style break- fast at an outdoor restaurant/hotel. Our day began with bright blue skies and the friendly hum of the locals going about their day's business. Bocas Del Toro is most noted for it's diving among the international community and the town offers many scuba-orientated shops and businesses. Although we were tempted to obtain a diving certification for Heather, we opted to simply explore on our own during the time spent on Bocas. After breakfast we rented mountain bikes, headed out of town and caught up with a trail that stretched along miles of beautiful coastline.

Our stops along the narrow road for aqua pipa (coconut water) and an occasional sloth or squirrel monkey sighting really characterized how truly tropical and rich this island is in serenity and beauty. After an hour or so of biking, we picked out a stretch of beach just a short hike off the trail. It was enclosed by rock formations forming a quaint cove. We striped off our sweat-soaked clothing and dove into the enticing blue-green ocean. The water was incredible! It was crystal clear and a tepid 75 degrees. Strong surf pounded the shore, echoing that this spot was ours alone for miles.
The beach was entirely composed of beautiful, smooth white shells, ground down by countless tides, forming its' soft upper layers. Under this layer, pink-red sand bore through, illuminating the shell fragments and I believed that paradise had once again been discovered! We spent hours on this beach swimming, sunbathing sans clothes, and exploring the small palm-thatched huts built alongside the coast. I wished that the sun would never fall from the sky. The bike ride home sent images of our beach fading in and out of my mind.

I felt as though we had touched a spot on Earth that welcomed all with it's sheer beauty and tranquility. It became an unassuming and open friend.

John J. Abate