My journey started with me sitting all alone in the back of a bus in David, Panama. I thought I was so clever, taking the big backseat bench to myself. The bus was pretty empty at this point and the conductor had been motioning to me to come sit at the front. I smiled and turned him down. What a mistake that was, he knew better.
Always listen to locals.
When the bus was mostly full, I thought I had gotten off the hook, but as it turns out, one more family could squeeze in. My stomach sank with dread as a woman and her three small children got on the bus and made their way back to fill a space that should be filled by one person, two at most. I know I was in for an uncomfortable ride.
During the course of the ride her youngest child dropped food from her mouth onto my leg, had her diaper changed on her mom's lap (on mine too), and I had the pleasant (note the sarcasm) feeling of a small bag of the mother's garbage resting against my leg. Mmm yummy.
Despite all that, I had to smile. I was in Panama! This is what it was to travel. I had forgotten the small joys to be had from simple life situations that were foreign to me - no matter how they presented themselves. Sometimes they were amazing, and sometimes they were a challenge to overcome, but they were always rewarding.
During the pandemic, I had forced myself to forget. Knowing that I couldn't leave my country made me feel trapped and sad and so I let myself slowly let go of my travel dreams beyond my own border. I focused on traveling inwards instead of outwards. Both within my country and within my own psyche.
Wrapped up in my musings, I also couldn't escape my racing mind that was trying to figure out how to flag down the bus driver to stop in the middle of nowhere at the Lost and Found Hostel. I had not managed to tell him properly where I needed to disembark before getting on the bus, I was sure of it. And so I spent my hour and a half bus ride fretting over what I would say to stop the bus. I couldn't get up; I couldn't get past this family of four and their massive green blow up unicorn. So I looked up 'stop please' in Spanish and 'bags' to make sure they wouldn't drive away with my backpack still shoved under the back seats.
When the moment came, it happened so fast. We drove past the hostel sign and I found myself yelling nonsensical things trying to get the conductor's attention. All in English. All thoughts of Spanish forgotten in my urgency. Every second spent on this bus meant an even longer hike to my destination. The bus stopped and I squeezed past my fellow travelers and eventually got myself on my way.
Here we go. To the Lost and Found Hostel!
Arriving at the Lost and Found Hostel
I followed the very helpful and comforting signs up the jungle path. Signs such as 'you're almost there, take a seat and rest!' were extremely comforting. Yet, each step was filled with trepidation. What was I doing? What would be waiting for me at the top of this hill? Did I still know how to travel and meet new people? It had been so long since I had done this. Doubts ran through my head as I slowly climbed towards a new experience.
I needn't have been worried. From the moment I spoke my name at reception, they knew who I was and were expecting me. They had me take a seat and fetched me a cold glass of water. It is a wonderful feeling to be expected and celebrated, just for stepping into the room. I was flooded by new introductions and genuine happiness at my presence. Oh yes, I thought, I would like my stay here. I could feel at home here. Because of course, I already did.
First things first; I made a beeline towards the showers. To my surprise, they were not only hot but also had excellent pressure. Feeling thoroughly refreshed, I started to explore the property. I found an impressive human-sized maze that took me over 20 minutes to solve, the rescued kinkajou Rocky sleeping in his cage, and tried to lie in every hammock I found – but there were over 30 of them! The more I saw of the expansive resort, the more I wondered just how they got all of this equipment and material up the hillside. It was impressive to say the least.
Having explored my surroundings, it was time to join the others. I approached the circle of social beings with caution. Did I remember how to make friends with strangers?
Again, I shouldn't have worried. This was hostel life. And I was welcomed back like an old friend.
In hostels, conversations come easily between strangers from all over the globe. We have so many similar experiences that allow us to connect easily. We could talk about travel mishaps, incredible experiences in nearby towns, share stories from our home countries, or about what it was like on our very first trip. Of course the inevitable topic of COVID-19 would come up, however never too frequently and was quickly put to bed by more interesting topics. There is only so long you can talk about COVID-19 after all.
Everyone has such an interesting story to tell. About their life, about their travels, even about the day before. A hostel is such an intoxicating atmosphere to be in. Everyone is so full of energy and vigor. Living their lives one day at a time and enthused by the unexpected.
We listened, we laughed, we drank, we danced. And slowly it dawned on me that a piece of my heart long missing was emerging once again. It had been dormant for so long, afraid to be a burden. I had forgotten what the travel bug felt like. It had been suppressed for so long, and at long last I was starting to feel whole again.
It felt like hope.
Hope that I could once again make friends with a stranger, or fall in love with a new city. The hope that even as the world changes, the important things - like the people living in it - could stay the same. That travel culture would always be there to support me when I needed to escape my routine or find some clarity.
That a jungle oasis like the Lost and Found Hostel was out there waiting for me.
To our surprise, we stayed up so late that we saw the sunrise. Conversation, games, and dancing had flowed so late into the night that we lost track of time. As the sun slowly illuminated the forest, the distant Baru Volcano slowly loomed into view and the local hills were painted shades of blue in the morning haze.
I smiled privately to myself as I realized that I was now among friends, not strangers. That I was no longer in a strange new place, but in a familiar one. And that my heart felt whole for the first time since 2019. I was home again. On the road.