The Rickety Old Bridge
One always comes to think of unforgettable experiences which they are some what involved in. Four summers ago, (the summer of 2004) I experienced the most exiting, creepy and dangerous things all at once just by crossing an old train bridge that stood over a river which conjoined both Costa Rica and Panama.
It was about 11 am and not knowing exactly where I awoke, I remembered what lay behind us; the 6 hour bus ride holding the maximum 25 passengers including a chicken who now lay resting on it's owner's lap. "We are now arriving to the border, this is where you will be picked up by another bus on the other side of that bridge." This is what I heard the bus driver say in Spanish but I only caught the last few words due to my awakening sister. As we got off of the loud, yet subtle bus, (all seven of us including my three sisters, my mom, my cousin, my uncle who was not actually coming along but wanted to stay until we crossed the boarder and me) we gasped at the boarder that had laid ahead of us well at least what was left of it, for what we had realized was that in order to get to Panama, we had to cross a quarter mile long, broken down train bridge that was missing every third railroad tie. I knew that this kind of experience was one to thank my mom for.
As we set off for our trip across the alligator infested, frigid water, I was truly astonished that out of nowhere an old nun helped us get across this dangerous bridge. The thing was, that with all of the luggage that all of us had to carry, it was lucky enough that even one of us kept it all. It was not until the middle of this adventure when I looked down, I realized that the alligators were people (300 feet below) and that I was actually half way to the other side of the bridge. At this point, I kind of zoned off not sure what I was supposed to do when I got off. In the end, I made it without dropping anything or anyone but I am still amazed. In the end, I looked back, amazed to see what we accomplished however, I later learned that it was not over yet. When we got to the office to get the stamps in our passports and enter Panama, we were told that my cousin's passport had not been stamped in Costa Rica so she and my mom had to go back over the bridge and receive her passport from my uncle who had her diplomatic passport which she used when she got to Costa Rica. This meant that we were to be left in this run down border shack. We were in limbo, out of Costa Rica and not in Panama.
Sure enough, my uncle had simply handed us the wrong passport so he only had to give us the other one but if you know my uncle, you know that sometimes things go wrong. We were told that the reason we were there for an hour alone was because he accidentally misplaced it. Soon enough it was getting dark. I remember that feeling of isolation, not knowing whether or not to speak for comfort, or stay cool and keep my mouth shut. Soon enough, my mom came back, bringing with her a sense of relief. We were soon at my mom's friend's house after taking two buses and a taxi. Finally, we're home.
Obviously, third world countries can be quite confusing as you can see, not everyone has it as easy as we do. For after my experience, I have learned to to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes, I look at a normal train bridge and think of it more as a gift than something you take for granite. So overall, memories are in peoples' hearts take this adventure for instance, the one true thing that makes it have so much value is that it was something that no one else has had because I did it. That is what is so special about memories, there is only one of them.
It was about 11 am and not knowing exactly where I awoke, I remembered what lay behind us; the 6 hour bus ride holding the maximum 25 passengers including a chicken who now lay resting on it's owner's lap. "We are now arriving to the border, this is where you will be picked up by another bus on the other side of that bridge." This is what I heard the bus driver say in Spanish but I only caught the last few words due to my awakening sister. As we got off of the loud, yet subtle bus, (all seven of us including my three sisters, my mom, my cousin, my uncle who was not actually coming along but wanted to stay until we crossed the boarder and me) we gasped at the boarder that had laid ahead of us well at least what was left of it, for what we had realized was that in order to get to Panama, we had to cross a quarter mile long, broken down train bridge that was missing every third railroad tie. I knew that this kind of experience was one to thank my mom for.
As we set off for our trip across the alligator infested, frigid water, I was truly astonished that out of nowhere an old nun helped us get across this dangerous bridge. The thing was, that with all of the luggage that all of us had to carry, it was lucky enough that even one of us kept it all. It was not until the middle of this adventure when I looked down, I realized that the alligators were people (300 feet below) and that I was actually half way to the other side of the bridge. At this point, I kind of zoned off not sure what I was supposed to do when I got off. In the end, I made it without dropping anything or anyone but I am still amazed. In the end, I looked back, amazed to see what we accomplished however, I later learned that it was not over yet. When we got to the office to get the stamps in our passports and enter Panama, we were told that my cousin's passport had not been stamped in Costa Rica so she and my mom had to go back over the bridge and receive her passport from my uncle who had her diplomatic passport which she used when she got to Costa Rica. This meant that we were to be left in this run down border shack. We were in limbo, out of Costa Rica and not in Panama.
Sure enough, my uncle had simply handed us the wrong passport so he only had to give us the other one but if you know my uncle, you know that sometimes things go wrong. We were told that the reason we were there for an hour alone was because he accidentally misplaced it. Soon enough it was getting dark. I remember that feeling of isolation, not knowing whether or not to speak for comfort, or stay cool and keep my mouth shut. Soon enough, my mom came back, bringing with her a sense of relief. We were soon at my mom's friend's house after taking two buses and a taxi. Finally, we're home.
Obviously, third world countries can be quite confusing as you can see, not everyone has it as easy as we do. For after my experience, I have learned to to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes, I look at a normal train bridge and think of it more as a gift than something you take for granite. So overall, memories are in peoples' hearts take this adventure for instance, the one true thing that makes it have so much value is that it was something that no one else has had because I did it. That is what is so special about memories, there is only one of them.
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