Cahuita to Puerto Viejo, with a side of KiloWatts

Our Costa Rica trip continues from Tortuguero to Cahuita to Puerto Viejo, and on to Sixaola for the Panama border

Cahuita, with its Lonely Planet promises of a more untouched, laid-back, Caribbean vibe, disappointing us (us being my sister Flavia and I). Admittedly, this could have been the constant thunderstorms and dodgy hotel talking.

Showers in the morning certainly jolted us awake, not because there was no hot water (which is quite normal in basic accommodation), but because a literal jolt of electricity trickled down every time we turned on the shower. I think this was due to exposed wiring being so close to the shower head.

I wanted to ask someone about it, but the reception was always empty, and something told me that this was not uncommon. So I filed it away as One Of Those Things and was glad to walk away in one piece, only mildly electrocuted.

Months later, in the Galapagos, I would meet this type of shower again.

The main highlight of Cahuita was seeing a sloth rather close up climbing along a telephone line during a post-dinner stroll. This joy was only temporary however, as days later, speaking to some volunteers from a sloth sanctuary, I was horrified to learn that this habit often costs the sloths their dear lives, due to actual electrocution. The ones that survive often end up in sloth sanctuaries. So electricity in Cahuita is not just a problem for me.

Anyway, after a full week without relief from the rain, Flavia and I were ready for some sunshine. As ‘unsuperstitious’ people who nervously abide by superstition, we didn’t talk about our longing for the sunshine. We simply stepped into our spongy hiking shoes (which in Cahuita’s humidity, refused to dry), and felt our socks instantly wet again. Sigh.

Thankfully, unlike our trip from Tortuguero to Moin, the journey from Cahuita to Puerto Viejo was easy, a lazy, hourish-long bus ride (we took the 9:15am, 820 CRC) along the Limon — Manzanillo route. Tickets can be purchased at a little kiosk by the bus station, if you can withstand the bewildered look of the ticket-seller. ‘What time is the bus?’ I ask. When there is no reply, I follow up, ‘is it the bus full?’. These absurd questions do not merit a response!

I think eventually we got the tickets on the bus itself, and it seems our perseverance paid off. Puerto Viejo shines in sunny, sandy splendour.

A sleepy town near the border with Panama, Puerto Viejo is known for its surfing, green initiatives, and a relaxed party scene. Small restaurants and bars line a little beach-facing strip, and little tuk tuks bring you up and down the coast to other gorgeous beaches like Punta Uva and Playa Cocles (both recommended). There are co-working spaces (I visited and enjoyed Puerto & Co), yoga studios, plenty of veggie and vegan options, and artisanal stores throughout. And like all coasts of Costa Rica, the first 200 metres following beach cannot have any construction, giving a more rugged and natural feel.

It’s probably a good time to mention that there are two big Puerto Viejos in Costa Rica: one on the Pacific coast and one on the Caribbean coast, and getting them confused could have poor consequences (on that note, San Jose Costa Rica should not be confused with San Jose California).

This time, the Lonely Planet was more accurate. It mentioned that we would be offered drugs and one evening, someone asked, in a very friendly way, if we might like some hash. It was oddly satisfying, kind of like when you recognise a lesser known actor on TV.

We spent a few lovely days in Puerto Viejo, walking around and visiting beaches. But alas, as planned, Flavia and I had reached the confines of Costa Rica, and it was time for a big travel day: Puerto Viejo to Boquete, a small town in Western Panama. The damage? Door to door was around 14 hours, give or take. The route? Puerto Viejo to Sixaola, a border crossing, border to Guabito, Guabito to Changuinola, Changuinola to David, David to Boquete.

Could we have done it by private shuttle in half the time? Of course. But where’s the fun in that? This blog is called Stubborn Travel for a reason.

I will say that Puerto Viejo to Boquete in one day on public transport is quite a feat, if I do say so myself. We left our hotel in Puerto Viejo around 5:45am, the 6:20am bus for Sixaola (1800 CRC) came at 6:30, and then we (and our big bagpacks) were on our way. After an hour or so, we were at the border, and after a couple of hours… bam! We were in Panama.

Many bagpackers around the Costa Rica — Panama border at Sixaola go on to visit Bocas del Toro, a pretty island off Panama’s northern coast known for its clear waters and a wild party scene. Risking Not Living Life To The Max, we decided to skip Bocas del Toro and headed south for a different adventure, hopping on a series of buses and vans, never needing to wait too long.

Changuinola was the starting point for the longest leg of the journey: a four-hour van south through much of Panama to David, a mad transport hub near Panama’s Pacific coast. Changuinola was strange in many ways, both crowded and hectic, yet somehow distant and remote. We struggled to find anywhere to eat near the bus station, even though it was lunchtime. When we bought the bus tickets, a cheerful man behind the ticket counter asked if I would be interested in marrying an older, funny man with a big belly. He smiled, patting his stomach happily.

I couldn’t help but grin. “Ah! Sorry, but I have a boyfriend,” I said.

“But you could have two!” he said, pointing to his stomach again, laughing.

From behind him, a woman had overheard the conversation. She huddled over to the counter and leaned forward, apologising on the man’s behalf. Then, she batted her long eyelashes. “Do you have any brothers?” she asked.

With ten minutes to spare before the bus, I asked for advice on where to grab a bite. The place which we were directed to was something between a bar, a cafe and a betting house. On offer were a few dry tostones and sad piles of rice with bacon. I bit into a tostone reminiscent of cardboard and left the rest behind, topping up on water instead.

Now I won’t go into the details of the rest of the journey, because A. There are plenty of blogs that cover it much better than I could, and B. It’s a little boring. I will simply say this:

• It’s not that bad if you’re prepared, but it is tiring
• Blogs like Costa Rica Guide give great border advice. I found that just asking the security officers where to go next was easier than memorising all of the places you have to tick off, but this strategy may not work if there are lines
• The actual border crossing took us around 2 hours, including waiting in line in both countries. On the Costa Rican side, we were the first in line when the border opened. Bring water, as the sun can be strong and there is little shade

While the journey was happily uneventful, we did meet some lovely girls who shared their tales, wisdom, and sloth knowledge. And it’ll be that which I share next time.

Till then!

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