Day 2.5 in Costa Rica and what can i say…its been amazing. I think today, I finally hit my stride and maybe after today it will be better or it will be worse, but right now, sitting in the living room of Pension Santa Elena, after having spent the day ziplining through the rainforest, I am so totally relaxed and tranquil. As the Ticos say, “Pura Vida.”
One of the most bizarre things I saw on this trip so far occurred stateside on the airplane to Dallas — This middle-aged lady was sitting in the very first row of the plane. Next to her, perched on the seat in full Victorian regalia was her porcelain doll. To top it off, the lady was clutching the dolls hand and gazing into her eyes as if she were consoling her. Fucking weird dude. I am pretty convinced that she bought that plane seat for that toddler -sized Victorian doll.
I made quite a few acquaintances on the flight out to Costa Rica. I was hoping to meet someone my age who was going to the same places or doing the same things, but that never happened. I practiced talking to the older peeps though, and found that it was actually pretty easy to engage in conversation with various people.
Evenso, upon landing in CR, I started to feel really tense bc of all the uncertainty of what lay before me. Part of me wanted to stay on the plane and go back to the comfort of home. Another part of me was eager to see what this town was about.
As I had been warned, I left customs and was greeted by a ton of guys all yelling at me and tugging on my shirt and asking me if I had a hotel yet. Apparently what happens is guys here will tell you the hotel youre staying at is closed or that your bus isnt coming, etc, so that they can take you to another hotel and make you pay some crazy fare there. All true.
Luckily for me, a nice man saved me from the mob of men, pulled me aside and then offered to pay for my phone call to the hostel i was staying at. I called the hostel collect and they sent a bus. The gentleman rushed into the street to flag down the bus, then gave me his number and address, telling me that if I ever needed anything, to give him a call. “You never know when you need a friend, verdad?” We shook hands and then I proceeded to get into the minibus to the hostel.
I had been told a lot of things about San Jose — none of them good. I had heard it is seedy and dangerous and not much to see. That is true. The ride from the airport to Barrio Aman is not very scenic, but the strange thing is that the moment I sat in the minibus and absorbed my surroundings, I felt so completely at ease. I remember thinking that I should have done all of this sooner — quit my job, travel more, costa rica…and it made me feel alive in a way that made me aware of how much I want to do still with my life and how many places I want to go and things I want to do and how much I want to see. Costa Rica is just the tip of the iceberg. I used to travel a lot so long ago — before I got caught up in everything, and I know its so completely cheesy, but the whole “pura vida” crap they keep ramming down my throat is so fucking true. This is truly what life is all about.
It was about 9 or so when I arrived at Hostel Pangea. Atmosphere was pretty good, and the grounds were nice. My room was a simple dorm with 3 bunk beds. 3 guys and 2 girls (including me) were staying there (I wasnt prepared for the guys to be in the same room…half naked…but…hot…)I befriended the other girl, who luckily happened to walk in the moment I was settling down.
Her name was Annette and shes a photographer from Ireland who has been traveling through all of South America. San Jose was pretty much her last stop on her travels, so as I was just coming in, she was leaving. She spent her last night with me, as I spent my first night with her.
We went up to the rooftop bar and she got some food while I drank a local beer – El Imperial. There were mostly men up there, but also a group of whorish girls. Eh. No mingling really, since I really think that when you travel with someone, you really are in a comfort zone of some sort, so see no reason to talk to other people. It was fine. I enjoyed talking with Annette.
Later, we both decided to go out and brave the streets of San Jose. The guidebooks warned of all the catcalling, and well, it was accurate. We kept hearin”hey baby” and “hey beauty” as we walked deeper and deeper into the more Tico parts of town. Finally, afraid we were getting too deep into no mans land (we judged that by the amount of prostitutes on the corners of the street) we decided to have a beer at a totally Tico bar.
Everyone stared intently at us the moment we walked in. We settled down at the table and this cute Tico bartender who didnt speak english attended to us, and it was fun just watching all the sights and sounds of a local bar. Two guys in the corner were wearing these weird wigs — one was a rastafarian wig, the other was this moppy old gramma type wig. They kept exchanging it back and forth back and forth and laughing like crazy. Another guy — older but harmless – came up to me and told me in spanish that i was very beautiful. Then he asked me to take off my glasses. So i did. And then he cheered as if he had just won a prize, put his fingers into an “ok” sign and then shook my hand. “Muy bonita. Muy muy bonita.” Annette and I just laughed.
Towards the end of the night, with our bellies way too full of beer, we witnessed a fight of some sort. Or rather, we witnessed one guy rush towards another guy, and lift him over his head and out the door of the bar. This guy was thrown out of the bar…literally.
Also adding to the surreal moment was the fact that they were playing old michael jackson videos on the tv. A group of musicians came in off the street and asked if we wanted to hear them play. We said no, but the couple next to us said yes. One of the bandmembers wore a Christmas tie. I have no idea why I remember that except that I thought it was kind of telling. Anyway, the concert was fabulous and everything felt so surreal, yet at the same time, extremely tangible.
It was midnight by the time we got back. Annette and I said goodnight, and we were both quite sad. “I don´t know if I will be up to see you off tomorrow so have a safe trip.” “You too. Goodnight Annette.” “Good Night.”
I barely slept that night. First off, the walls were so damn thin. Secondly, it was just noisy with all the people coming and going and coming and going. I woke up at 2am to the sounds of a group of girls thanking some Italian guy for showing them around. I really really really wanted to yell at them to shut up. But then there were the guys in our room. One of them kept talking in his sleep. First he talked in a language I could not comprehend, and then he would have full on conversations with himself.
And that was my first night in Costa Rica.
Next morning, I had to wake up at 530 am to catch a 630 am bus. Whats weird is how bright it gets so early in the morning. I took the local bus, rather than the tourist bus. Something I am glad I did, but something that Im not sure I have the courage to do again. But that is another story, for another time…
to be continued
