And so the Story Goes...

My Viva Colombia flight left on time and was headed on a 45 minute flight back to Panama City. On the plane, I met a lovely Colombian couple who were traveling to Panama City for 5 days to stay at the Hardrock Hotel-what a coincidence.  We waited in the long customs ride and I sat there absolutely terrified with my two friends.

"What if they ask for my card again? "
"What if I say the wrong thing?"

My two buddies were reassuring me that "everything will be okay." It was difficult to believe after my first border crossing into Panama. Apparently, the border is very different from the airport. 
"Next. Hi, how long is your stay in Panama?"
"I have a flight this evening at 12."
"Do you have anything to declare?"
"No, I don't."
The whole time I am holding my rosary hoping they will let me through.
He says, "Okay, have a nice flight."

"Pheww I felt like a criminal who was bringing in some illegal package. This is how much anxiety I had after my traumatic border crossing. My friends were waiting for me and said, "I told you so."
The customs man was fair and nice-justice was received and retribution. Now, it was time to get a taxi to get to the center. The Israel guy, a super typical backpacker who smelled of alcohol, was headed with his girlfriend on a shuttle van. I talked to him a bit and told him to wait up. The shuttle took me back by the Don Bosco church where I had planned to make a stop......

Suicide Shower

This sounds so awful that I almost did not even want to write it as a post, but this is the Guatemalan terminology...

Coming back to the hostel chosen by my American friend. I had to face the reality.  The reality was that it was time for me to take a shower. It was time to take a shower in the hostel that I did not read reviews on or first do a thorough investigation on.  The time had come to walk in and see my fate....(All Animation sounds in place)

Instead of taking the plunge alone, my American friend decided to escort me into the bathroom.  There was a towel underneath the sink on the floor that was dripping wet, the toilet was relatively clean, and then their was the shower.  She slowly opened up the curtain and there it was "the suicide shower."  The sound of a horror movie was ringing through my head.

There was the shower head with  blue and white wires hanging from it and some paint chipping off the wall. The shower head was actually the least of it. It was the tub that was 9 feet deep and looked like a grave.  It was as if you were going to take a shower and then you were going to lay down and die.  After of about 1 minute of her explaining why there needs to be wires for heat, I quickly walked out of the bathroom and into the room.

  I guess it was more messy than clean, but with that being my first hostel bathroom after a long while- it was No Bueno!  If she was trying to scare me out of taking it shower it definitely worked. I couldn't believe this woman who was in her 60s would actually take a shower in something like that-it was kind of mind boggling.  Even if all the showers in Guatemala have wires hanging, they can still be spotless clean?

After that bathroom investigation, I decided to investigate all the different bathrooms within the hostel.  I found one decent one on the top floor, but even for me to use that one it really took a big push! I was sitting in the room obsessively reorganizing my bag to avoid taking a shower.  There were six girls upstairs and they were all using that shower. The one downstairs is only made for that one room, which makes it cleaned less.  More rooms using the bathroom=more likely it will be cleaned. Well. clearly that does not really apply in this hostel.  

To end this suicide saga, I took a shower in the upstairs bathroom, which was not a 9ft tub and had only a few wires hanging out. 

No suicide friends-still ALIVE:)