La Frontera: Another Day, Another Dollar

Ecologically, borders are notoriously rich in terms of biodiversity. Where a forest meets a swamp, or freshwater mingles with its salty cousin, opportunities abound for life to exploit a niche environment. Econonically, borders are notoriously poor, violent and exploited themselves; think of Tijuana or the Malquiladora zones on the Mexican border.

But political borders offer niche environments to their citizens as well. Take the border crossing from Costa Rica to Panama: after being escorted across a rickety bridge by a local looking for a tip, paying for a visa, and being hustled into buying a ride on a crowded mini-bus because a) there is no regular bus, and b) that bus that doesn´t exist costs the same and takes longer, you learn that to get stamped into Panama (nevermind you already paid for a visa) you need to buy a return ticket to Costa Rica. Return tickets, regardless of whether you want to go half an hour across the border or all the way back to the capitol, cost the same. Nevermind that you´ll never use the ticket because you´re travelling elsewhere in Panama. Nevermind that the border officials know you aren´t going to use the ticket that supposedly prevents you from living indefinitely and illegally in Panama. Nevermind you´ll probably face the same scam returning to Costa Rica-- then you´ll need a return ticket to Panama, forever bounced back and forth like the ball from Pong.

Arguing does no good, reasoning and pleading do no good. You´re a rich tourist and you´ll pay the bribe rather than turn around and go home. Everyone knows what is going on, but refuses to acknowledge their part. The bus hustler complains with you, the ticket vendor smirks under her breath, the border official plays it by the book. (¨I don´t care if you´re going to China next, you need a return ticket¨). We, as tourists, share the experience, but we take it home in different ways: does this justify our own exploitation of others? Or does it make us empathize that much easier?