Travel Nightmares Part 4 – Night bus to Bocas

Panama City Rainbow
Bus travel has never been my favourite, but when given the choice between a $30 bus ticket and a $150 plane ticket (each way), I chose the cheaper one. On top of that, the planes from Panama City to Bocas del Toro are quite small and my luggage was considerably over the weight / size restrictions, especially after purchasing extra clothes and toiletries when my luggage was lost a week earlier.
After overlanding (large truck / bus like vehicles that you travel in for hours at a time) in Africa in October / November 2016, it was unusual that only minutes after starting to move on the bus in Panama that I did not feel well. The bus was dark inside and the sun was setting outside the window. I was squished against the window by the tiny human who had been maneuvered in between her mom and I in the seats made for two. I was annoyed, but it wasn’t the end of the world.
As the bus moved moved through traffic and across the bridge, I felt a wave of adrenaline pass through my body. It was a combination of the feelings you get when you trip and almost fall, and that which passes over you just before you vomit. As I sat there with this coldness that had passed over me, I didn’t quite know what to think of it. In my head I was trying to figure out if I was going to be sick or if the last turn on the bus just surprised me. As my mind went into overdrive and the cold claminess didn’t subside, I started doing mindful breathing to calm myself down.
And here I was 15 – 20 minutes into the bus ride doing what looked like Lamaze breathing. As much as I tried to calm my thoughts, they wouldn’t stop. I was obsessed with figuring out why I felt so strange. Was I getting sick? Was I going to puke? Was I having a panic attack? Was I scared? Was I uncomfortable? Was I having balance issues from the cold that I had had for the past couple of days? How could I stay on a bus for 10 hours like this? Over and over these questions ran through my mind at breakneck pace and I tried to answer them while breathing in and counting to six and then letting it go and counting to six.
This cycle continued for about an hour or a little more until the sun was completely down and the bus had gone completely dark. The mom beside me had picked up her child and was now breastfeeding, so I at least had a little more space to be comfortable, but that didn’t matter. It was time.
All of a sudden I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold it in. I knew that I was going to be sick, it was just a matter of time. My body was in a clamy, cold sweat and I had started to shake. I literally climbed on my seat to step over the mom and baby, as when I said I needed to get out, she just looked at me. I couldn’t wait, I needed out of that seat. I wobbled and rocked my way to the front of the bus as it charged along the highway. I knocked on the door that separates the driver and assistant from the passengers and as soon as the assistant opened the door, I immediately sat down on the floor, blocking the door from being shut.
The guy just looked at me, not sure what to think. I started to try and talk (in Spanish) and realized that I was breathless. I would say one word and then gasp for air before finding my next word. And then the tears started rolling down my face. In the best broken Spanish that I could muster I told the assistant that I was sick and that I needed to get off the bus. A combination of concerned and confused, he tried to explain that I couldn’t get off the bus at that moment. He asked what was wrong. Again I tried, through my breathlessness to spit out enough words that he would understand that I couldn’t breathe and that I couldn’t stay on the bus. It was in this moment that I realized I was having a full blown panic attack; something that has only happened to me once or twice in the past 10 years. Thankfully I recognized what it was and did not think I was dying, but none the less, I wanted off that bus. It’s a horrible feeling, not being able to control your breathing and not being able to calm yourself down, especially with no clear reason for why you are upset to begin with.
If you can imagine when someone close to you passes away and you find out suddenly. Then you start to cry, which turns into uncontrollable sobbing and thoughts swirling around in your mind like leaves in a wind storm. You cry so hard that you nearly forget to breathe and then you gasp for air before the sobbing starts all over again. For me, it was much like this except the tears were minimal and the gasping for air was amplified.
The assistant told me as nicely as possible that I couldn’t get off the bus because there was no where to pull over. We were on a twisty, turny highway going down the side of a mountain and sure enough, outside the window I could see there was no shoulder, just a ditch and forest.
He told me that I couldn’t stay seated there on the floor.
I told him that I couldn’t move.
He explained that our next stop (Santiago) was over an hour away and asked if I could wait until there. I told him no. Although I didn’t know what other option I had. It wasn’t like they could leave me on the road.

The assistant and driver chatted back and forth, but I couldn’t focus on their conversation (in Spanish). The best I could do was focus on breathing. They decided that there was a town coming up in about half an hour and told me they could let me off there. They told me there would be a couple of hotels there and asked if I could go back to my seat until then.

Wobbly and unbalanced, I made my way to the middle of the bus where I had been seated. Through my tears and exaggerated breaths, I asked the mom who was seated with me if she could move to the inside and she did. About five minutes later, the assistant came to the back to get me and brought me to the front of the bus to sit in his seat and he would stand.
Being too weak to carry anything and too sick to care, I left everything in my seat. My camera bag, my laptop bag, my money and my cell phone. Yes, I was THAT sick. You know it’s rough when you leave all of that stuff behind on a bus in another country. And yes, I knew I was doing it, I just couldn’t deal with it. The only thing I could deal with was trying to get enough air.
After the assistant got me seated and buckled in, he went back for all of my things and brought them to the front of the bus. He opened the window to give me a bit of fresh air, although it was hot and sticky, it was still appreciated. I couldn’t look down or turn my head to go digging through my bags as the motion was overwhelming, so I had to get him to find my cell phone for me so that I could try to call someone at my Spanish school to help me find a hotel at the next community. It would be even worse if I got off the bus and had no where to stay!

I tried one phone number, but being a Sunday night, there was no answer. So, I called one of the teachers from the school that I had a number for. And the process of me trying to spit out words while gasping for air and crying started again. It’s one thing to focus on your breath and try to keep yourself calm, it’s another to try and express yourself. Then, try to find words in another language because no one speaks English!

I’m sure the teacher didn’t actually know what was going on, but he understood that I was sick and needed off the bus. After a moment, I passed the phone to the assistant and asked if he could talk to the teacher on the phone. He looked at me like I was crazy, but said hello. The assistant was able to explain where we were and what town was nearby. From there, the teacher told me that he knew the area well and he would help me. My mind was so relieved, but unfortunately it didn’t help  me calm down.

The cold, claminess of my body had not passed, but all of a sudden another wave of chills rushed through my body. I had a plastic bag in hand, turned my head away from the driver and well, you know the rest. I don’t need to describe it. There I sat, in the assistant driver’s seat being violently ill while gasping for air through a panic attack.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity; it was relentless. Once my stomach had fully emptied out, the dry heaves continued.
I wanted to hide.
I wanted to stay still.
I wanted to breathe.
I wanted off the bus.

I felt horrible that I was vomiting in close quarters with two men who were complete strangers and were seeing me at my worst, not really knowing what to do with me. On the other hand, I was glad that they now knew I was really sick as well. The assistant handed me some paper towel and offered to take my plastic bag. I wasn’t ready to tie it up and part with it quite yet though!

As the dry heaves wained, I was able to check my cell phone messages again. Looking down and reading were not particularly easy, but I managed. I had to ask the assistant driver to respond to the messages as I wasn’t able to look down long enough to type. The motion was overwhelming. The teacher was able to secure me a hotel in a small town called Anton. The town was along the highway so the bus could just pull over and let me out.

I was glad to have not parted with my plastic bag as my heaves continued right up until the route flattened out and we could see a row of lights from the businesses along the highway. I certainly didn’t feel well, but I sure was happy to be getting off the bus.

The bus slowed and pulled over in front of the small hotel the teacher had told them about. The assistant helped me down the stairs and out the door as I was very shaky. And he carried all of my things for me. He rearranged the luggage under the bus to find my large, heavy red suitcase and took it inside the hotel for me. I didn’t think quickly enough to give them a tip, but I was able to say ‘Muchas gracias’ from the heart.

I’ll never really know if I was going to be sick, therefore I had a panic attack because I was worried about it, or if I had a panic attack that induced vomiting. Either way, they came together and were horrible. I wasn’t feeling particularly troubled by anything while I was sitting on the bus. I wasn’t worried about the journey. I was settled in for the next 10 hours. It really just came over me like a stormy ocean with lots of swells.
The best I can devise, without talking to a professional, is that the stress of a missed connection, lost luggage, arguing with Air Canada, the heat of Panama, being tired of traveling and the unfriendly turnstile lady, all exploded at once.
What I can tell you is this. Just like sobbing for hours and gasping for breath leaves you exhausted, so does a panic attack. After my things were in my room at the hotel, I went to buy water, brushed my teeth and went to sleep at around 9pm, with no idea of what the next day would hold for me. I would need to find a way to continue my journey (another 8 hours by bus and then 30 minutes by boat) to Bocas del Toro. Or, would I go back to Panama City and fly to Bocas? I knew that I was in no place to be trying to make decisions at that point.  Sleep was the only option.

Travel Nightmares Part 3 – Bus Station 1

Panama City Sunset
Panama City Sunset
As the sun was setting in Panama City, I was sitting on a big coach bus getting ready for a 10 hour overnight journey to Almirante, where I would catch a ferry the next morning to the islands of Bocas del Toro. Bus travel isn’t my favourite and bus travel in Panama is now on my ‘never again list’.
Bus stations in general aren’t the friendliest places anywhere in the world. They are often unorganized, chaotic and dirty. I had started my bus journey by arriving an hour early to make sure that everything would good smoothly, or so I thought. I asked the lady at the turnstiles (in Spanish) if I needed anything other than my receipt. She said no, so I thought I was all set.
In the waiting area, there were no easily accessible seats for someone like me with two carry ons and a suitcase. I strolled over to the wall where others were standing, leaning and kneeling. I set all of my luggage beside me and sat down on the dirty floor. I didn’t really want to stand for the next hour until boarding. I was wearing black work out pants and a t-shirt, what harm would a little bit of dirt on my ass do?
Not five minutes later, the same lady from the turnstile moved around the room at the pace of a sloth, and when she came to me, she told me in Spanish that I was not allowed to sit on the floor, I’d have to get up. I’m pretty sure I responded with ‘En serio?’ (which, in hindsight probably didn’t help me at the next point of contact). I got off my butt and squatted instead of sitting. Because, seriously, sitting on your haunches against a wall isn’t against the rules, but your bum on the ground is?
Eventually a seat opened up and I moved myself and my luggage to a chair that was about as clean as the floor I had been sitting on.
About half an hour later, the call for my bus was made and it was like a mad dash of sloths to the turnstiles. This cracks me up because it is so true. There’s no such thing as hurrying or rushing here. However, people will slowly move toward the gate all at the same time making sure to take up double the room necessary so that no one else can pass by. One person might be totally in your space, breathing down your neck from behind, but then the family in front of you has luggage and boxes strewn about in no particular order, blocking anyone from walking through the main path. It’s such an interesting (and frustrating) experience.
Finally, I arrived at the turnstile and I see people using a card to gain access to pass through the gate. I showed the same lady my paper and she waved me away. She didn’t use any words, just signalled that I could not pass. I stood my ground and asked her what I needed. She rambled on something about a card and waved other people to come past me. I didn’t move. I asked the lady (probably not in my nicest tone – in Spanish) where I could get this card. She basically said ‘Over there.’ and with a nod of her head in the direction of the ENTIRE busy hallway / bus station behind me. I mumbled ‘thanks’ (for nothing) and turned to make my way backward through the herd of sloths.
Another local lady was watching the situation unfold and she looked at me like I was a lost puppy.  ‘Tell the girl where she can get the card,’ she said, annoyed at the lady. The lady just looked at her and then pointed with her finger instead of her chin to where I should go ‘over there’. The local lady just shook her head with a look of embarrassment on her face.
I had been an hour early, asked if I had everything I needed and still was turned away at the gate 15 minutes before the bus was to leave. So much for trying to be proactive and have things run smoothly.
I rushed backwards through the crowds to go find this elusive counter and a card that I didn’t know I needed in order to catch my bus on time. I still don’t know what the card was for, but I paid a couple of dollars for it and in the end, it allowed me access through the turnstile and away from the nasty lady.
I dropped off my luggage for under the bus and got a ticket to show it had been received. I jostled for my place in line to get on the bus. It truly amazes me that people will actually push you out of their way to get on a bus that everyone is getting on anyway. And we have assigned seats, so it’s not even about getting a good seat. Locals pushed in front and all around me and physically separated a dad and child of about three years old as they were busy pushing their way on the bus and not worrying about the little one at knee height. Lucky he didn’t get kicked or fall over.
I settled in to my window seat. Ate my bag of bbq chips for dinner and crossed my fingers that no one would be sitting beside me so that I could stretch out a bit on the ride.
As the bus powered up, I was still sitting alone. Could I be so lucky?
No.

A lady and her toddler climbed on the bus last minute and made their way toward my empty seat. The lady smooshed the child in between us on the seats and settled in for what was sure to be a long ride.

And a long ride it was …