Sixaola–Guabito Border Crossing

I arrived at the Sixaola–Guabito border crossing just after late morning, stepping out of the shuttle into heavy Caribbean heat. My backpack felt twice its normal weight, and the whole area was buzzing—vendors selling fruit, travelers sorting their documents, and people walking toward the old metal bridge that connects Panama to Costa Rica. The mix of movement, noise, and humidity hit me immediately.

Leaving Panama on the Guabito side took less than a minute. The officer stamped my passport without asking anything, and I headed straight for the bridge. It’s an old railroad-style structure—rusted beams, patched wooden planks, and enough gaps to see the slow brown-green river moving beneath your feet. I stopped halfway to catch my breath and take in the view. Crossing a border on foot always feels more real than stepping out of an airport. You feel the moment.

On the Costa Rican side in Sixaola, the immigration line stretched along the shaded wall of a small white building. People were fanning themselves with passports and muttering about the heat. A few travelers were frantically trying to buy onward tickets on their phones before reaching the window. I’ve been in that situation before, and it’s miserable.

This time I was prepared. Before leaving Bocas del Toro that morning, I had taken out my phone and used Fast Onward Tickets to get my onward reservation. It took maybe two minutes—enter my name, choose a date, confirm the payment—and the ticket arrived instantly by email. I opened the PDF while waiting in line and kept it ready on my screen.

When my turn came, the Costa Rican officer flipped through my passport and asked the usual question.

“Proof of onward travel?”

“Right here,” I said, holding up my phone.

He glanced at the PDF for a few seconds, nodded, typed something into his computer, and stamped my passport.

“Bienvenido a Costa Rica.”

Just like that, I was through.

Outside, travelers who had already cleared immigration were adjusting backpacks, checking bus times, and negotiating taxi rides to Puerto Viejo. I bought a cold bottle of water and stood in the shade, letting the relief hit.

I caught the next bus heading toward the coast. As we rolled past banana farms and stretches of thick jungle, I leaned my head against the window and thought about how easy the crossing had been. No last-minute panic, no rush for Wi-Fi, no stress.

Fast Onward Tickets made Sixaola–Guabito one of my smoothest border crossings ever.

A small thing, but it made the whole day easier