The faces at the Nicaragua-Costa Rica border demanding a fine of $50 USD for a problem that – if it was a problem – should have stopped me at borders three times before. Bureaucratic, round-shaped and sharp-nosed male faces until my and two Canadians’ “illegal” status in Nicaragua was miraculously waived and the chief demander behind his desk stood up from his seat so a young, pretty girl could do the photocopying. Apparently the day before some travelers at that border were fined $500 for the same problem.
The concrete altars lined up beside parked buses at the Costa Rican-Panamanian border, three of the five complete with sleeping men stretched out on top.
The way we walked across that border just as dawn was breaking, and the clouds were starting to stand out against light seeping into the eastern sky we were walking towards, and the birds filling the few trees beside the highway were twittering themselves into a scream for joy at it.