What I Wish I Knew Before the Costa Rica to Panama Border

Last updated: April 20, 2022

“Where are we going?” I asked as the plump border official waddled me outside.

“Back to Costa Rica,” he answered with a friendly smile as if that was what I wanted to hear.

I couldn’t believe it. I had everything I needed to enter Panama. Hotel booked, exit flight bought, pre-arrival check completed, Covid-19 regulations fulfilled. Were they really denying me entry because I didn’t have internet to show them my bank statement?

If you’re about to make the Costa Rica to Panama border crossing by land, there are some things you should know. This was the most intense grilling I’d ever received from border officials, except maybe when I was trying to get back into Canada during the pandemic and they found cocaine residue on my passport. But that is just a minor touch of a monstrous story that I’ll get around to telling one day.

Border crossings in Central America had been laughably easy to cross. For the most part, they want you there – they can’t stamp your passport fast enough. The same cannot be said for the Paso Canoas border crossing between Costa Rica and Panama. At least on the day I went and the border agent I spoke with.

Panama Entry Requirements by Land

I’ll continue the story below but if all you want are the quick hitters, here’s what you need to enter Panama by land from Costa Rica:

1. Passport with at least 6 months validity remaining
2. A printed copy of your completed Covid-19 vaccination
   1. OR a printed copy of a negative test result (PCR or Antigen) within 72 hours
3. Confirmation of your hotel booking for the first night (but potentially all nights)
4. An exit or onward ticket out of Panama
5. Proof of at least US$500 to fund your stay

They don’t have the technology at the land border to scan your QR code from your vaccine certificate or from your pre-arrival health check, so they want printed copies of your fulfilled Covid-19 requirements. Find the updated Covid-19 entry requirements here.

My story continues…

I arrived at the border crossing and was directed to the health check window. I said buenas tardes, showed him my passport and a digital copy of my negative antigen test result from the day before.

He looked up at me and said in broken English that I needed to have a printed copy of the test results. I told him all I have is the electronic copy and that I also uploaded it to the Panama immigration website when I did my pre-arrival health screening – and I have the QR code to prove it.

“We don’t have the technology here to scan the QR code. You need to print a copy and come back. There are a few places over there that can print it for you,” he said pointing across to the Panamanian side of the border.

I was a bit confused. Can’t you just scan it with a phone? Am I allowed to go over to the Panamanian side to print something? What if I just keep walking?

I kept those thoughts internal and muttered, “Okay, thank you” as I walked off in the direction he pointed.

Still not really sure of where I should be going, I walked past the rest of the border crossing and found myself in Panama…so that I could print a document…to enter Panama. There was nothing to stop me from continuing forward, and nothing to stop me from returning to the Costa Rican side.

Anyway, I wandered around in the nearly unbearable heat until I found a tiny little shop that did copies. I sent them my document via Bluetooth, and they printed the two pages for me at a ridiculous rate of $1.50. It’s a rip off, but what else are you gonna do?

Stay safe when you travel. Here are my 21 travel safety tips.

I walked back to the health check window with the newly minted copies of my Covid test, filled out the health form that the border official handed me, and got the sweet stamp of approval on the health form and was directed to the immigration windows around the corner.

I kept looking back nervously to my bus that was parked nearby to make sure it wasn’t revving up to leave without me.

I got to the immigration window, said buenas tardes again, and handed over my stamped health check form with my passport.

The immigration officer, let’s call him David for simplicity’s sake, said to me in rough English, “Show me your flight.”

I knew what David wanted to see, and in hindsight I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and shown it to him. But for whatever reason I needed more clarification on exactly what he wanted from me.

“My flight? Which flight?”

“Your flight, in Panama,” his tone a little more exasperated this time. Again, I’ve crossed borders enough times to know exactly what he wanted to see, even if what he was saying wasn’t making perfect English sense.

Had I just shut my mouth and showed him what he wanted to see I probably would’ve been allowed to cross. What I said next sealed my fate. He wasn’t going to let me in to his country.

“I’m not taking a flight in Panama. I’m entering by land.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Did I think he didn’t know that? We are literally having this conversation at the land crossing. It must’ve sounded like I thought he was dumber than the brick that built his office. Pro tip when crossing borders, the less you say the better. Just shut up and show your documents.

“Show me your flight back to Canada”

“I’m not going back to Canada. I’m going to Colombia”

“Let me see!” David wasn’t very happy by this moment, and I think I was to blame.

I showed him the flight ticket from Panama City to Bogotá, thinking that would satisfy him.

“Show me your flight out of Colombia.”

That one isn’t in the playbook. David was upset and ready to throw the kitchen sink at me to win this battle. Little did he know though, that I had a flight booked from Bogotá to Lima, Peru for later that same day. I presented that to him feeling somewhat smug on the inside. Checkmate, or so I thought.

“Show me your hotel.”

“Here’s my reservation for a hostel tonight.”

It was a baseline rally in the opening set where both of us wanted to overpower the other (tennis reference).

He changed the pace on me with a slice by switching the conversation to Spanish. I was able to respond with a slice of my own. I don’t speak great Spanish, but I know enough to understand and be understood, the rally continued.

 “Your passport has water damage. I don’t think we can accept it.”

This was true. Over two years ago on a flight in Indonesia my stupid Grayl water bottle opened due to a change in the air pressure and spilled water all over my passport. There is a bit of water damage now that goes across half my face, but this has never been an issue in all the countries I’ve entered since then.

“Okay, so what do we do then?”

“Wait one minute. I’ll go check with my supervisor if this is allowed.” David got out of his seat and walked out of sight into the back room with my passport. This was the first moment during the whole exchange where I was like oh shit, I might not get in. I was oblivious to the way I insulted him earlier.

David came back with my passport and didn’t mention anything about the water damage. It must’ve been fine.

“Let me see your flight,” he said as if we were just meeting for the first time.

“Again? Okay. Here.” If there was any chance of me crossing today, saying “again?” before showing him my flight details was the final nail in my coffin.

“Your hotel reservation?”

“Again? Sure.”

“Show me your money.”

This one genuinely surprised me, “My what?”

“Your money. How much are you bringing?”

I emptied my wallet, revealing about US$100 cash and maybe US$10 worth of Costa Rican currency. He had me on the back foot now and could smell victory.

“I need to see $500 before I can let you in to Panama,” he said with a matter-of-fact attitude.

“I have two bank cards here with more than $500 on them.” That wasn’t good enough though, he needed proof.

“Look, David, I don’t have any internet here. I need internet to log in to my online banking.”

I swear to God I saw him smile.

“I need to see $500,” he repeated.

“Do you have wifi here? If I have internet I’ll open up my bank and show you $500 no problem. I have it, of course, but I need internet to show you.”

“Wait right here one minute,” and he disappeared again into the back office.

Even at this point I wasn’t that worried. I was still blind to the fact that I had probably offended him and thought okay, well they have to assume that a Canadian entering Panama probably has $500 in their bank.

Worst case scenario I’ll just go get internet somewhere and then come back to show him. It was a few minutes later before a different border official, this one short and stout, came out to my side of the window holding my passport and beckoned me to come with him.

I looked at David and he nodded that yes, I should indeed go with this new gentleman. Unbeknownst to me yet, that was game, set, and match.

We made our way outside and started walking back in the direction that I had just come from, back to Costa Rica.

The bus driver intercepted us and in rapid Spanish asked something to my new nemesis to which he affirmed. The bus driver looked at me and in a slower pace told me that I needed to get my bags off the bus before I went with him.

This is when things started to hit me. Get my bags? What was happening? Where was I going? Would the bus leave without me? I didn’t want to be stranded on the highway at the border.

“No, don’t leave. Wait just a minute and I’ll be allowed to cross. I just need to show them my bank,” I explained to the bus driver as he took me back and unlocked the bus. He didn’t say much, he’s probably been through this situation a hundred times before.

I gathered my stuff and hurried out to find my new escort.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Back to Costa Rica,” he said it in such a friendly way that I couldn’t be mad even though I was panicking on the inside. He explained that because I couldn’t prove I had $500 I was being denied entry.

I pleaded with him saying all I needed was internet and all would be solved. He apologized and said there was nothing he could do. He was just following orders. That son of a bitch David – he got me. He didn’t even give me a chance to go find internet and come back with proof of funds.

The Costa Rican authorities nullified my exit stamp and said I still had 10 days remaining on my visa. I was stunned. I’d never been denied entry to a country before, this was unchartered territory for me.

I even thought about just walking into Panama without permission to be there but knew that I would face the consequences of that when I tried to leave and the Panamanian officials saw no entry stamp in my passport.

I found some wifi on the Costa Rican side, took a screenshot of my bank statement, and started walking back to go chat with David, noting a couple of the dingy budget hotels along the highway in the event that David wasn’t interested in a rematch.

I found David, showed him my bank statement, and he brushed me away like I was an annoying fly that kept landing on him.

“Get out of here. I told you no. Try again tomorrow,” he said with the most annoyed look on his face and turned around to purposefully ignore me.

I waited for him to check back if I was still standing there. I wanted to unload on him. I wanted to call him all sorts of names and let him know what an asshole he was being. He finally turned around to see me there.

“What time do you open tomorrow?” I asked, as if it was a convenience store owner I was talking to.

“What?” he said with a construed face as if it was the dumbest question he’d ever been asked.

Normally I’d never ask this question. I always assumed borders were 24-hour operations. A little mishap in El Salvador though taught me that isn’t necessarily the case. That’s another story though.

“What time do you open?” I repeated, but continued when I didn’t get an immediate response, “Are you here 24 hours? Can I come back at midnight?”

“Midnight is fine,” he finally said.

I thanked him and walked out. That was the last I’d see of David, thankfully. I don’t know his real name, but he looks like a David, pronounced the Spanish way (Dah-veed).

I walked “the strip” to find a place to spend the night and stumbled into a restaurant that had rooms above. $20/night was the price and after a quick inspection of the room I agreed.

I was nervous all night. What if I couldn’t get in tomorrow either? I had to be in Panama City in 3 days for a work assignment at the Canada vs Panama World Cup Qualifying match.

I eventually got some rest and went back to that print shop on the Panamanian side in the morning to print all my documents but they had no electricity, just my luck. I wonder if David had anything to do with this. I asked where I could find another place to print stuff and she directed me to a little shop much closer to the border.

I walked back in that direction and re-printed my Covid test as well as a copy of my bank statement. I booked hotels for the entire duration of my stay, screenshotting a copy of each. I made sure I had electronic copies of my flight to Colombia and the following flight to Peru. I had everything sorted.

I went to the health check window and presented my printed Covid test, another completed health form, and my passport. He gave the seal of approval and directed me around the corner again where I had that fateful standoff with David the day before.

I saw a woman at the first counter and counted my blessings that it wasn’t David again. I gave her my passport and stamped health check while I stood there nervously awaiting her to serve and begin the rally.

“Can I see your flight?” No need to ask for clarification. I showed her my flight to Bogotá.

I heard the sweet, sweet sound of a stamp imprinting ink on my passport and just like that she said, “Welcome to Panama.”

That was it! No hotel reservations, no flight out of Colombia, and no bloody bank statement. Where were you yesterday!? I smiled a huge sigh of relief as I stepped away from the counter and gave a fist bump in solidarity as I made my way into Panama. I couldn’t believe how easy it was today and how hard it was the day before. Crossing borders really does depend on the border agent you get.

I met a family on the day prior shortly after I was denied entry who was in the same boat as I. They weren’t allowed to cross because they didn’t have lodging booked. They tried to book it on the spot but were told that wasn’t allowed and they got escorted back to Costa Rica with no chance of parole for 3 days! More victims of David, I presume.

It’s never guaranteed, but if you want the best chance of entering Panama by land, I suggest you be ready to present all of those requirements I outlined above.

Oh, and yeah, don’t talk. Just smile, nod, and say yes sir or yes ma’am. Good luck!

If you have any questions or want to get more travel ideas, you can find me on Instagram.