We rented bicycles and set off to see where we could go and maybe find a quiet part of the lake. Full of energy, the wind in our hair, J's bike broke after 5 mins of cycling. We went back and swapped it for another bike. We set off again, less cocky this time, but all was well and we cycled for a few hours around the island unable to see the volcano for the clouds or to find a route to the enormous lake that surrounded us.
After 45m of descent over a reproductive-ability damaging excuse for a road, we found a quiet strip of sand with a few little houses and numerous locals bathing and playing in the lake. The water was as warm as the Pacific had been and we splashed and scrubbed and generally had a good time. Of course by the time we cycled the twelve odd kilometres back we were sweaty again, but at least it was fresh sweat. Since we've been in the tent lately we've been waking with the light at about 6am and often going to bed around 9pm since we lose the light at 6pm (and had failed to get new torch batteries). Thus we were up and on a ferry back to mainland by seven for a full day's hitching into Costa Rica. C had read about the very scary threat of a $28 tax on people leaving Costa Rica so we were prepared for the worst.
We got there fine, though we had to collect a form and pass a policeman through a gate to gain access to the immigration checkpoint. Costa Rica were taking this 'having a border' business seriously indeed. We were stamped out of Nicaragua (occasionally paying a dollar for seemingly random pieces of paper) and when coming in to Costa Rica we were asked how long we were planning to stay, where we were going next and for evidence of that (though not about yellow fever vaccinations which the internet had told us they would and the inoculation of which had led to C vomiting on a temple's grounds prior to leaving the UK (for which he remains very sorry)). However, given that they accepted the printout for a flight leaving Beunos Aires on the 29th Oct 2012 with a hand scrawled note of "2nd June 13:00" as a valid itinary, seems to suggest it's still not nearly the Vogon hassle that the UK is.
We actually managed to hitch from the border and were left at a crossroads with one route (the larger one) apparently taking a large coastal road towards Panama, the other being the Pan-American, that went by San Jose (the capital). We decided that this was supposed to be a Pan-American journey (though sharp observers or those who know how to navigate Google Maps, will notice we've not been following it that strictly) and ... waited for a lift.
The next day we got stuck in the urban sprawl of San Jose and Cartago and ended up walking about 8km with our backpacks. It was like actual hiking or something. We were eventually rescued by a very friendly cheese merchant who took us up into the moutains. Which were surprisingly cold. We shivered the night away, but in the morning very much enjoyed the Costa Rican equivalent of a road-side greasy spoon. This consisted of a huge pile of gallo pinto, fried cheese, fried plantains, fried dead thing and strong coffee. Thus heartened, we continued hitching.
Maybe we should take a brief interlude here to explain how we feel about Costa Rica. Obviously it is great that it is relatively peaceful and prosperous for Central America. The story of its development is interesting. Although only a minority of places in the world can develop in this model (i.e. solely tourism) because the global economic system and global tourism industry rely on the existence of exploitation in other areas and gross inequalities in global wealth distribution, things that haven't existed in Costa Rica (natural resources to be seized or a large indigenous population to do all the work) helped to highlight the stories of other countries. This does mean it is more expensive than everywhere else in Central America and Mexico (though the notes for colones are extremely pretty and colourful). This is not great for us, also the tourist attractions are in national parks and beaches and we've done enough of both these things for our tastes for a while.
However, we will always habour a true resentment of the place for the simple reason that it is No Country For Hitch-Hikers. OK, so we had been spoiled since coming south of the Rio Grande, hour-long waits were starting to seem almost unacceptable and we were getting too used to being in the back of a pick-up almost as soon as we put out our thumbs. But Costa Rica gave us more consistently long waits than the U.S.A. Meanwhile, the amount of insulting/baffling gestures and perplexed looks increased ten-fold. It clearly just isn't the culture there, and in fact, pretty much everyone who picked us up was either not from Costa Rica or had lived in the U.S.A (mostly New Jersey for some reason).
But it really is as beautiful as everyone says. We never saw the coast, but we went from flat plains, through rainforests and chilly mountains, to the world's largest crop of pineapples (which are not from trees at all, but a shrub/cactus like affair where the fruit sprouts out the middle). Every half hour or so, we were in a different micro-climate.
Interlude ends.
The next ride we got took us across the cheeringly named Mountain of Death, which is the highest point on the whole Pan-American Highway (at 3,451m or 11,322ft).
Due to the speed of the hitch-hiking, we had to spend another night camping in Costa Rica and were rapidly running out of colones as we hadn't expected to be there for so long. But we managed to make it to the border, thanks to some friendly Panamain truckers. There we experienced about half an hour of panic/dread/depression as the customs official announced that the guys on the way in should have stamped us (though they did take our passports at two separate points they did not do this). Without that, the customs man said he could not stamp us out. We'd have to live here forever with a handful of colones and people giving us rude gestures from their large, spotless four wheel drives.
Luckily, the officials decided it was more trouble than it was worth (we had caught them right before their lunch-break) and stamped us out anyway (with no fee at all, hurray!). So, we walked into Panama (making sure they stamped us in) and caught a bus as far as David (as it was cheap) to get away from the border. We still had an hour's daylight left, so tried to get a bit further down the road. First impressions were not good and we began to wonder if we were in another Costa Rica. Night was falling and we pushed our luck under a street lamp, but were just giving up (this is not artistic embellishment, we'd stopped thumbing and started to pick up our bags), when a large car pulled up containing a large guardian angel. Five minutes later, we were humming along in his air-conditioning chatting about all kinds of things. A couple of hours later, we were munching yuca and coconut patties and drinking strong black coffee and an hour after that, we finally parted company but he left us with some friendly traffic police who let us sleep in their hut.
This morning we made it to Panama City quite easily. We haven't found a Couchsurf, but as we had had neither a real bed, nor a shower in 2013, we've splashed out on a hostel (with beds and fans and breakfasts and free water and everything!). After relaxing for a bit, we enjoyed a delicious meal of mystery meat stew and fried fish and a wander round the old town.
Tomorrow we're off to see the city and the world's most famous water-filled ditch.
P.S. We're sorry, but there will be no pictures this week as the computer doesn't want to play along.
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