Having been delayed out our journey South to Panama due to a workers strike blocking the road, we arrived in the Costa Rican border town of Sixaola at 5:30pm, which was 30 minutes past border-closing time. After a bit of fruitless whining to the crossing officers, Elyse and I were forced to look for accommodation for the night.
Sixaola is a run down, shabby looking town that is built around banana farms run by giants such as Dole and Chiquita. The would-be beautiful acreage of expansive banana trees are disrupted by the unsightly blue bags which are placed around each bountiful bushel and filled with pesticides.
We were escorted by the local self appointed tourist services man to a hostel owner which refused to offer us accommodationbecause she simply wasnt in the mood to clean any of her empty rooms. Therefore, we were forced to spend the night at the only other hostel in town, which was equipped with one sink that feebly spewed rusty water, seat-less toilets, a shower that has never seen a sponge or rag in its life, and a creepy man across the hall that loved to urinate with the door open.
As I laid my head down on the lumpy pillow, I closed my eyes pretending not to notice the pieces of gum stuck to the wall staring at me as I slept and prayed for morning to come quickly.
Bridge across the Costa Rican/Panamanian border
Sixaola, Costa Rica
Hostel- actually not looking too bad from the outside
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