Yesterday, I took a bus into Alajuela, Costa Rica. It´s close to the airport and the hostel offers free shuttle service to San Jose, which is only 5 minutes away. I´m in the bus and it stops about 3 hours outside of Tilaran, where I was house sitting. Everyone starts to get off the bus and I ask the driver if it´s the last stop. He says yes. I get off the bus and I´m dropped on a corner in a small city with loads of vendors, stores selling everything from fruit to hair ties. I ask a cop where the hospital of Alajuela is. He tells me it´s in Alaueja. I realize I´m not in the right town. I ask how to get there, and he quickly speaks, using some hand signals, pointing out where the bus station is. All I need to know is that the bus is red. I follow his signals, following the traffic, looking for the first bus that says Alajuela on the front.
I finally find the bus station, with a 50 pound army bag on my back, a messenger bad and a purse in tote. My neck is killing me and I quickly run to ask the bus driver where the bus to Arajuela is. He points it out to me. I scramble to put my bag into the storage bin beneath the bus. The worker helps me get this monstrous thing off my back as the rest of my luggage straps are tangled and the straps of my tank top are falling off of my sweaty shoulders.
The bag is in, and I jump into the bus, almost as it´s moving, paying the driver for the ticket in Colones. I take a seat next to the window that overlooks the storage beneath (you never know if someone will steal your bag when they get off the bus). I´m sweating from running. I take a deep breath and relax. I realize I don´t know where to get off the bus. When it stops, I go to the front to ask the driver to drop me off at my location, the hospital in Alajuela, so I can catch a cab. But people boarding the bus are first priority, and I move back to my seat. I ask someone how long it will take to reach Alajuela and he tells me 25 minutes. A few minutes later, in a creepy soft voice, he asks me where I´m going. I tell him Alajuela.
Eventually, I see a sign for the hospital and leave the bus, thinking that I am close to my destination. I sit to collect my thoughts. I smoke. I sit with my gigantic bags on the side of the road while people stare at me. I have Gringa written all over me. I finally hail a cab, and get to my destination.
I´m here in Alajueal with the hostel to myself, about to leave for the San Jose airport in 45 minutes. My flight time will be long and probably exhausting. I arrive in Puerto Rico at midnight, then take a flight to the Island of Vieques at 9 a.m. and will arrive at my casita around 10 a.m., and this is where I will reside for the next year.
Should I be ashamed that I´m looking forward to eating at McDonald´s at the airport?
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
What I learned in Costa Rica
In the past eleven weeks, I have learned a lot about Pura Vida despite having been locked to the house at all times. This projection is all based on both experience and being told first hand by locals, so don´t get mad.
You can take a stalk of celery if you only want one at the market, have it weighed and pay for only that part. This is brilliant! People here, unlike in South American and other Latin countries, don´t litter much. I´m used to seeing trash all over the roads, and here, they encourage you not to litter. The men have a double-standard when it comes to marriage and relationships. They get to have as many lovers as they want while the wife stays home to clean the house, take care of the kids, and has no prospect of finding a job because her job at home is more important. She doesn´t go out at night with the girls, and should she cheat on her husband, he divorces her.
It´s easy to live off the land, and everyone does it. Mangoes grow, lime, mandarin, pineapples, bananas, passion fruit (maracuja), a bunch of others... They own cows and horses, dogs run wild, howler monkeys croon in the morning, birds of all types are seen and heard. Poisonous snakes are around, alligators are in the lakes, there is nature at every foot step. The people here are very proud of their country. For some reason, they are racist toward Mexicans. They say it´s because Mexicans don´t like Ticos either (Tico is an endearing term for a CR man).
The Costa Rican life, for most people, as I have experienced, and NOT ALL, is to steal. Not much to my surprise, but much to my dismay, people will take every advantage to steal because they can´t afford, or don´t want to spend the money to buy something they want. I haven´t been stolen from, but the house I watched has had 9 experiences with being robbed, despite the cameras, electrical alarms, replaced roofs, fences and locks on every door. They detach the wires, climb through the roof, poison the dogs so they won´t bark, apply for jobs, then steal equipment and sue the owner of the house for not paying them enough to be a ¨guard¨. They will have their friends gang up so that when you hear a noise, you go outside at night to see what it is, and someone comes around the other side of the house. They´re tricky little bastards.
Some are very hard-working, and this doesn´t apply to all Ticos. I have been told by Gringos who have lived there for years that Pura Vida is what people think when they come here on vacation. Real life begins once you live here, then learn to play their games better than they do.
I took a bus to another part of Costa Rica today. It´s close to the airport for my flight out of San Jose and into Puerto Rico. I had to get a cab from my bus stop to the hostel this evening. I knew he was going to rip me off, but I blocked it. I found a cab with another Tica in it, just so I could get a sweeter fare with a double-occupancy ride. He took her to her location first, and when he dropped her off, kept the meter running. She went outside the car to pay him, and I could tell she was giving him what her fare share was. When he returned to the car, he didn´t reset the meter, which is fine, as long as what I pay reflects a fair price for the distance. I asked him if he was going to reset the timer and he said not to worry about it. RIGHT. So I watched it as her cab fare and mine climbed. When we finally got to my destination (which was close, and I had already asked a local what the cab fare should be) I told him what I would pay him. He told me I´m too smart. That´s because I took cabs for 6 years in San Francisco, and although they seem to be much more honest there, I know what they´re up to.
The beautiful parts of Costa Rica is the open-arm policy of the people wanting to teach you about their culture. I had a wonderful local dish prepared by our maid, and I returned the favor with a Brazilian dish. She made fried platanos and cheese, steak with onions, black beans, rice and sausage. It was divine.... freshly patted tortillas covered with palm fronds for warmth eaten out in the backyard in the sun over-looking Lake Arenal on a warm day with bugs buzzing and dogs happily lying in the grass.... this will be one of my most amazing memories.
Speaking of which, one day, my driver, Luis, was taking me home from a hike to town. We saw thirty-something white herons flapping around one spot on the lake. They were right next to the red-soil shore, plucking the water and we knew there were a lot of fish that day. Simple moments like when those cutter ants were in a single-file line carrying pink flower petals across the green algae-covered stones are priceless. When I heard the howler monkeys for the first time, that echoing howl that blows across the lake.... AMAZING. Even the drum circle, which was so mysterious at first, that I could only hear before a storm from across the lake, when it was dusk, and placid... it turned out to be a high school band but nonetheless, it was magical.
The chicken coop was the bane of my existence because it was difficult to get used to how unimaginably filthy chickens are with their poop everywhere, dirt splattered, not to mention the smell, the possibility of finding a chicken embryo when going to crack an egg for breakfast. The reward was getting a baby chicken and watching it run around the pen squeaking, and seeing the mom so closely monitoring its every move.
Best part of Costa Rica? Being in absolute solitude with simple duties, and only the weekly visits from a selected few. Having the opportunity to relish in the natural beauty and silence of a world apart from city life is a gift. I will always be grateful for the time I spent learning, being responsible for someone else´s life and loved ones, and moving forward and upward is more than I imagined.
Now, since I have this entire hostel to myself in Alajuela (5 mins from the San Jose airport), I´m going to have a drink and maybe a can of black beans and enjoy my last night in Costa Rica. Until Puerto Rico!
You can take a stalk of celery if you only want one at the market, have it weighed and pay for only that part. This is brilliant! People here, unlike in South American and other Latin countries, don´t litter much. I´m used to seeing trash all over the roads, and here, they encourage you not to litter. The men have a double-standard when it comes to marriage and relationships. They get to have as many lovers as they want while the wife stays home to clean the house, take care of the kids, and has no prospect of finding a job because her job at home is more important. She doesn´t go out at night with the girls, and should she cheat on her husband, he divorces her.
It´s easy to live off the land, and everyone does it. Mangoes grow, lime, mandarin, pineapples, bananas, passion fruit (maracuja), a bunch of others... They own cows and horses, dogs run wild, howler monkeys croon in the morning, birds of all types are seen and heard. Poisonous snakes are around, alligators are in the lakes, there is nature at every foot step. The people here are very proud of their country. For some reason, they are racist toward Mexicans. They say it´s because Mexicans don´t like Ticos either (Tico is an endearing term for a CR man).
The Costa Rican life, for most people, as I have experienced, and NOT ALL, is to steal. Not much to my surprise, but much to my dismay, people will take every advantage to steal because they can´t afford, or don´t want to spend the money to buy something they want. I haven´t been stolen from, but the house I watched has had 9 experiences with being robbed, despite the cameras, electrical alarms, replaced roofs, fences and locks on every door. They detach the wires, climb through the roof, poison the dogs so they won´t bark, apply for jobs, then steal equipment and sue the owner of the house for not paying them enough to be a ¨guard¨. They will have their friends gang up so that when you hear a noise, you go outside at night to see what it is, and someone comes around the other side of the house. They´re tricky little bastards.
Some are very hard-working, and this doesn´t apply to all Ticos. I have been told by Gringos who have lived there for years that Pura Vida is what people think when they come here on vacation. Real life begins once you live here, then learn to play their games better than they do.
I took a bus to another part of Costa Rica today. It´s close to the airport for my flight out of San Jose and into Puerto Rico. I had to get a cab from my bus stop to the hostel this evening. I knew he was going to rip me off, but I blocked it. I found a cab with another Tica in it, just so I could get a sweeter fare with a double-occupancy ride. He took her to her location first, and when he dropped her off, kept the meter running. She went outside the car to pay him, and I could tell she was giving him what her fare share was. When he returned to the car, he didn´t reset the meter, which is fine, as long as what I pay reflects a fair price for the distance. I asked him if he was going to reset the timer and he said not to worry about it. RIGHT. So I watched it as her cab fare and mine climbed. When we finally got to my destination (which was close, and I had already asked a local what the cab fare should be) I told him what I would pay him. He told me I´m too smart. That´s because I took cabs for 6 years in San Francisco, and although they seem to be much more honest there, I know what they´re up to.
The beautiful parts of Costa Rica is the open-arm policy of the people wanting to teach you about their culture. I had a wonderful local dish prepared by our maid, and I returned the favor with a Brazilian dish. She made fried platanos and cheese, steak with onions, black beans, rice and sausage. It was divine.... freshly patted tortillas covered with palm fronds for warmth eaten out in the backyard in the sun over-looking Lake Arenal on a warm day with bugs buzzing and dogs happily lying in the grass.... this will be one of my most amazing memories.
Speaking of which, one day, my driver, Luis, was taking me home from a hike to town. We saw thirty-something white herons flapping around one spot on the lake. They were right next to the red-soil shore, plucking the water and we knew there were a lot of fish that day. Simple moments like when those cutter ants were in a single-file line carrying pink flower petals across the green algae-covered stones are priceless. When I heard the howler monkeys for the first time, that echoing howl that blows across the lake.... AMAZING. Even the drum circle, which was so mysterious at first, that I could only hear before a storm from across the lake, when it was dusk, and placid... it turned out to be a high school band but nonetheless, it was magical.
The chicken coop was the bane of my existence because it was difficult to get used to how unimaginably filthy chickens are with their poop everywhere, dirt splattered, not to mention the smell, the possibility of finding a chicken embryo when going to crack an egg for breakfast. The reward was getting a baby chicken and watching it run around the pen squeaking, and seeing the mom so closely monitoring its every move.
Best part of Costa Rica? Being in absolute solitude with simple duties, and only the weekly visits from a selected few. Having the opportunity to relish in the natural beauty and silence of a world apart from city life is a gift. I will always be grateful for the time I spent learning, being responsible for someone else´s life and loved ones, and moving forward and upward is more than I imagined.
Now, since I have this entire hostel to myself in Alajuela (5 mins from the San Jose airport), I´m going to have a drink and maybe a can of black beans and enjoy my last night in Costa Rica. Until Puerto Rico!
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