Every trip has it’s memorable occurances. Mine came courtesy of hurricane Ike which got my flight cancelled at the last minute and turned a four hour flight into a fourteen hour endurance test. I was able to get out on Saturday, but the route took me through Florida and then back to Costa Rica. It meant a night-time arrival.
It wasn’t all bad, however. The night sky above the clouds with a full moon provided wonderful vistas of dark cotton candy shapes. For a short time there was a break in the clouds, just in time to see Cuba to our port side. It looked close enough to reach out and touch. And San Jose at night was a golden offering, nestled in between mountain ranges. The lights from the houses up the mountain looked like rivulets of molten lava spilling into the flowing lava lake below. Breathtaking.
Customs and integration took forever! But I tried to make the best of it by visiting with other weary tavelers in line. I even helped a couple find the right place to go. (Had they only known that I was as green as they, they probably wouldn’t have been so trusting.) I tried to look seasoned. Not sure I pulled it off.
Being thrust from the safe interior of the airport into the amazing crush people and taxis outside was a bit overwhelming. But fortunately I saw a sign - IPEE “Rick” and found safety. Her name was Mariposa and she spoke not one word of Ingles. But we managed to hang in there and find the right cab that was my scheduled ride. Curridabat, it turns out, is about 45 minutes from San Jose.
First impressions:
Every house seemed to be behind bars. Not little bars, either. Big, thick, tough-looking bars that would stop a car from getting through. I wondered if I were getting into an armed camp. It gave a whole new meaning to ‘gated community’. There didn’t seem to be any yards. Houses are crammed against each other on narrow streets, with no space at all between them. Most seem to share walls on either side. The cabbie seemed to know where he was going and finally pulled up to an iron-fenced ‘patio’ saying, “Su casa.” I was beginning to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.
My hostess, Nury, however, is the sweetest lady. She unlocked the three locks on the gate and welcome me with a hug and a kiss like she’d known me forever. She speaks no English, by the way. None. Nada. Zilch! But after I’ve gotten to know her a little, I’ve decided she is Curridabat’s version of Ina Lasiter, taking in strangers and making them feel as welcome as strangers can feel. She forced me to sleep in her room, in her bed the fist night. The next day I moved into the room I will occupy for the next two months.
I didn’t think I’d be able to get to sleep, I was so wound up. But I don’t think I lasted two minutes after hitting the bed.
All I could think of was, “What have I done!”
I’ll post more on the first days later.
May the peace of God be with you all.