But as I readied my navy blue passport to be inspected this time, Junior looked amused and asked me to swap it for a swimsuit. Donning the strange combination of knee-length gum boots and my swimsuit, I followed him through a different stretch of the rainforest to reach the shore and hopped on to a wooden non-motored canoe with more trust than I had shown the first time. There were no rapids to be manoeuvred, no sharp rocks to be dodged; with a handful of swift motions of a wooden stick, we had crossed the breath of Yorkin River—to Panama! My favourite border crossing yet.
