“Too much of a good thing is just right” - Mae West
As some of you know, when you come to Costa Rica to travel or visit, you are given a 90 day “travel visa.” All you need for this visa is a passport that is valid for 6 months after you arrive in the country. (You may recall there was a little bit of drama about this before I came to Costa Rica. – post: March 31st)
For those of you who do not posses the amazing math skills that my 7 year old nephew has (proof he is genetically related to my father), as I am living here for 5 months, that exceeds the 90 day maximum. However, the only current requirement for obtaining a new travel visa (thus providing you with 90 more days) is to leave the country for 72 hours. Pretty simple; though a lot of people don’t do it and pay a fine if/when they leave the country. As I plan to return to Costa Rica many more times, I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my return options, so I decided to head out of the country.
Due to my past experiences with travel drama, prior to leaving San Francisco, I thought it would be best to buy a ticket from Costa Rica to any other country for a date before my initial visa would expire. At that time I didn’t know if upon my arrival I would be required to provide documents showing that I was scheduled to leave the country before my visa expiration. While I tried to find this information in advance, no one that I asked, and no research that I did online, was able to provide me with that answer. I think it is one of those things that just depends on which officer you get when going through immigration, as they certainly have the right to ask. I figured buying a ticket was going to be cheaper than the cost of bail and a lawyer after using Katie’s arrest assurance method of bribing an immigration officer, and thus bought a ticket.
As I didn’t know what my time in Costa Rica would bring (I could have met a really amazing Chilean man, for example, who invited me home to meet his parents), I decided to buy the cheapest ticket I could find. I knew I wouldn’t have to use the ticket if I chose not to, and also knew that I could buy a ticket that could be used as credit towards another ticket if necessary. As it turned out, I didn’t need the ticket to get into Costa Rica originally, they never even asked me how long I planned to stay. And as you all know, I didn’t speak any Spanish before I arrived…so it certainly wasn’t because I talked my way out of it. Must have been my charm, I have a lot of that you know.
To back up a little more, the STOP AIDS Project threw me a little going away party before I left San Francisco as a “thank you” for the work I had done for them (guess they thought I was going to be abducted by monkeys and wouldn’t return home to support them further). During the thank you party (which had an open bar), my friend Byron told me that his Aunt and Uncle lived in San Salvador and if I was traveling at all to let him know and he would try to arrange an opportunity for us to meet up. I had kind of forgotten about this, a direct result of the open bar I am sure, but as my 90 days was approaching and I realized I had to leave the country, I reached out to Byron and asked for a reminder of where his Aunt and Uncle lived.
When Byron told me that his Aunt and Uncle live in San Salvador, I was very pleased. Coincidentally the plane ticket I bought prior to my arrival was to their very city. I love when things like that happen, just makes life easier. When Byron found this out, he said he would email them to see if I could stay at their house. Now this was way more than I was expecting, but I certainly didn’t turn down the offer. Shortly thereafter, he forwarded to me the response he received from them in regards to his email. Here is what the email said:
Byron:
Of course, think we can make good on a lot of Pilsners and pappusas!
Have her let us know when she is coming and we will have driver pick her up at airport.
Take care, Myron
Um, ok, so first of all, I have people, who are related to a friend, who speak English, who are offering to let me stay with them in San Salvador? Perfecto. But adding to that…there will be beer and good food….and “driver” is going to pick me up at the airport; this all sounded very promising.
A few days before my travels, Myron emailed me to let me know that he would come to the airport, along with “driver” (to make it easier) and would be wearing khaki shorts, an orange shirt and a khaki hat. I responded to that email by sending over a picture so that Myron would recognize me.
As it turned out, my internet connection at home was terrible that day (no big surprise) and I was unable to upload any pictures to email. Thus, I was forced to email him the only picture I had in my yahoo account that wasn’t of a monkey…(difficult to find) which as it turned out was a picture of me and a Sooner (that is the University of Oklahoma mascot for those of you who don’t know) at a local restaurant here in Manuel Antonio.
Here is how the picture came to be: as I was sitting enjoying dinner at Byblos one night, a large group of people came in, with the man at the head of the table wearing a button down OU shirt (clearly he was wearing his dress up clothes). I, of course, couldn’t resist the temptation to go over and talk to him (and by talk I mean heckle).
We chatted for a few minutes about Texas Football (I am sure he would say we talked about Oklahoma Football) during which time he said “We may not be able to win a Bowl Game, but we can certainly beat Texas.” Despite his rude (yet accurate in the previous season) comment, I spent awhile chatting with his family and gave them my “best list” of Manuel Antonio. At the end of all of that, we had our picture taken together, which I emailed to my friend Mike… a former Sooner football player (yet surprisingly still an pretty nice guy.. most likely because he never saw any real field time)… which is why I had the picture on my computer. Mike and I have an annual bet and the heckling starts early.
When I emailed this picture over to Myron, I apologized and said “I am sorry for this silly picture, but it is the only one I currently have in my email.” I didn’t think in a million years the picture would make sense to him… and thus underestimated him completely. I received an almost immediate response back from Myron who said something to the effect of “I don’t think it is silly, I am a Jayhawk, and my baseball cap will reflect my loyalties.”
This weekend was just getting better and better, now I was sure that in addition to a place to stay, I would have something fun to talk about over the weekend (Texas Football). Thus, I packed my burnt orange workout shorts, and was ready to go. Hook Em!
On the morning of my trip, I took a shuttle up to the airport. When I got to the airport, I paid my exit tax, refused the “saran wrap” of my suitcase (4 times) and made my way to the gate. I had about an hour and a half to kill before my flight departed, during which time I saw a few things I hadn’t seen in months:
1. People magazines in English – Hallelujah … a hot commodity on this property, well at least with me and Linda.
2. Burger King – While I don’t like Burger King, and haven’t missed fast food (gallo pinto is much better), I realized while at the airport that there are no commercialized fast food restaurants in Quepos/Manuel Antonio. I hope that doesn’t change.
I also saw something interesting take place while I was waiting for my flight; as it turned out, someone had left a backpack unattended at the terminal. Within seconds, there were two police officers and two bomb/drug sniffing dogs on the scene inspecting the back pack. While I wasn’t surprised to see them checking out the bag, I was surprised by the reaction of the other people in the terminal…everyone gathered around them to watch the events unfold.
This doesn’t make any sense to me…best case discovery, everything is ok and they carry the bag off. Not much to watch. The alternative scenarios, as I see them, go something like this…. ok, let’s say there are drugs inside the bag, do they really think the police are going to open up the bag and pass some out for everyone to try? No way, they are going to resell it on the streets where they can make some money. And worse, if in fact there is a bomb, or some sort of explosive material in that backpack, what is everyone getting closer for? The last thing in the world I want is to be closer to the explosive bag; thus, when I saw them show up, I attempted to casually, yet very quickly, walk away. Luckily this didn’t result in me being questioned or apprehended by the police, as the travel Spanish I had been studying did not include bomb suspect questioning.
I flew to San Salvador on a short and non eventful flight (the best kind) via TACA airlines. While you may have seen news of a minor TACA crash recently (on an airport runway), I was very impressed by the airline. Large very clean planes, good food and American TV shows in Spanish. And while I generally don’t drink on planes (and didn’t drink on this flight), what I found out is even in “coach” the alcoholic drinks are free. That information was courtesy of the very nervous flyer next to me. When I arrived in San Salvador, I went through immigration where the officer I dealt with asked how long I was going to be in the country; to which I responded “until Sunday.”
Remember how I told you that I was supposed to leave the country for 72 hours, well…I didn’t quite book my travels that way. While that may seem crazy, I was trying to avoid having to take any days off of work and had heard that the Costa Rican immigration officers were pretty lax about the rule. As a matter of fact, a lot of the ex pats here just go to Panama for lunch, and get their passports stamped, so I thought leaving for 2 days was very generous of me. Additionally, I still had time on my original visa, so if they wouldn’t give me a new stamp, I could have still gotten back into the country on the old one…and paid someone $150 to get my passport stamped with a new one. While I certainly wouldn’t want to go that route, it was nice to know there was an additional option.
After I told the agent in San Salvador that I would be there until Sunday she said “You are here for 3 days?” Exactly, can I please get you to sign an affidavit stating that is the case? I might need it when I return to Costa Rica.
Immigration was easy, and when I got out of the airport, I instantly spotted Myron…not necessarily because of his Jayhawk hat, but because he was the only white man I saw. Nothing like deductive reasoning skills. He instantly gave me a warm welcome, I was introduced to “driver” (his name is Martin) and we headed on our way. On the way to their house he was telling me a little bit about their family and then said “I hope you like dogs.” He told me they had 4 dogs at the house, all of whom were very friendly and loved attention. I reassured him that I love dogs, and between that and the bottle of his favorite tequila that I gave him, I was feeling pretty good about my standing with him.
We drove for about 15 minutes before we pulled up to their house and drove through the large gate and down a step driveway. From this angle (and in the backseat) I couldn’t really see the house, though judging by the fact that they had “driver,” I assumed it would be nice. Holy cow, I had no idea. This wasn’t actually a house, so much as a resort.
First of all, Myron, Anna and their two daughters, Laura and Andrea, have lived all over the world. Literally. Here are just a few of the places they have lived
Saudi Arabia
Columbia
El Salvador (once prior to moving back permanently about 10 years ago)
Thailand
Mexico
Their house reflects every place they have lived, with amazing artwork, figures and furniture. Additionally, their 2 daughters (one who is in college in Houston, the other who just got married to her husband in April and lives on the ground floor of their home) are bi-lingual (Ana is San Salvadorian and raised them speaking Spanish) and have had some of the most amazing life experiences to share. While I wasn’t able to meet Andrea, Laura and her husband Rod are fantastic.
When I first walked into the house, I immediately saw a gorgeous fountain. Wow, what an entry way. I then got a brief tour of the house where I was amazed by everything I saw. They have the most beautiful artwork in their house, and the furniture is all so gorgeous. I wanted to walk around their house and take pictures of everything, but was trying not to be rude; it took a very concerted effort. I swear to you, I could spend 2 months in their house and never see every trinket, piece of artwork, wood furniture carving etc. They have so many beautiful things there that I don’t think they would even notice if you took something. I, of course didn’t do that, as it would clearly be against my moral standards….and more importantly, they have video cameras and alarms and I wouldn’t want to do anything to risk not being invited back!
To the left is the front door. You can clearly see the gorgeous fountain and entry way here.
This was a picture I took in the bedroom where I was sleeping, what amazing pieces from all around the world. This is only a very small taste of what the rest of their house looks like.
Here is a picture of the left side of the back of their house. My bedroom is on the very top floor.
Here is a picture of the other side of the back of their house, as it was impossible to get the entire house in one picture.
And the final picture of the back of their house, with Sandy sitting on the grand staircase.While the inside of the house was gorgeous and spacious (10,000 square feet to be exact), the most magnificent part of the house was the large back deck. As they are up high on a hill, their house looks down over all of San Salvador. The weather is perfect most of the time, there are no real bugs to speak of (probably because of the bats – the only downfall that I could find about the whole place) and sitting out on the deck is so peaceful. Especially when one of their 3 maids is bringing you drinks and snacks. Heaven! It is funny how moving to Costa Rica has made me think a lot about simplifying my life, but as soon as I get to a place where paid help waits on me, I am once again convinced I need to make it rich!
Here is a photo of the back deck taken standing in the middle of their deck.
Here is a photo in the opposite direction.
The view of the city and volcano from thier deck.
more views from the deck...
views from the deck at night...
while this picture didn't come out very clearly, the view at night is amazing. Isabella's (one of the maids) little girl was visiting one night, and after walking out on the deck and seeing this view, ran back to her Mom and said "Mommy, come look, the stars have fallen to the ground."
These pictures are really just for my Mom. This flower (of course I can't remember the name) only blooms once every couple of months, and only at night. I thought it was a good sign that they bloomed on the first night I was there. The smell was amazing.
Another view of the flowers....
Here is a photo of the back deck taken standing in the middle of their deck.
Here is a photo in the opposite direction.
The view of the city and volcano from thier deck.
more views from the deck...
views from the deck at night...
while this picture didn't come out very clearly, the view at night is amazing. Isabella's (one of the maids) little girl was visiting one night, and after walking out on the deck and seeing this view, ran back to her Mom and said "Mommy, come look, the stars have fallen to the ground."
These pictures are really just for my Mom. This flower (of course I can't remember the name) only blooms once every couple of months, and only at night. I thought it was a good sign that they bloomed on the first night I was there. The smell was amazing.
Another view of the flowers....The first night while we were sitting out on the deck chatting, after our AMAZING dinner (which clearly required no effort on our part as Isabella took care of everything), Ana casually asked me if I liked massages. Um, yes, as a matter of fact I love them, why would you ask? She proceeded to inform me that their masseuse comes every Saturday morning (she actually comes every other day), and asked what time I would like my hour long massage. All I could think was “Well thank God the masseuse is coming, all of this sitting around being waited on hand and foot is becoming very stressful. I mean it is a lot of pressure trying to decide if I want a beer or a glass of wine and if I am finished with my plate, or would like to gorge myself further on this amazing food.”
I mean really, I have “driver” to pick me up at the airport, 3 maids to provide me with everything I need (and many things I don’t), a masseuse to relieve the tiny amount of stress that wasn’t removed by sitting on the outdoor couch reading the People Magazine I bought at the airport, and fun people to chat with and get to know. Call TACA airlines and cancel my ticket because I am never leaving.
When I woke up Saturday morning from my delightful sleep, in a bedroom on the top floor overlooking the city, I strolled downstairs, got love from the dogs, gave love to the dogs, sat on the back deck to read my book, had a delightful breakfast (prepared and removed by someone else) and a massage. Really people, I could get used to this. And, before breakfast, when Ana came out to the back deck to join me, she asked what I wanted for breakfast…after I told her I was happy eating anything, Isabella made a delightful breakfast. When we sat down to be served, Isabella stood back for a minute while I tried everything to ensure I liked it and didn’t need her to make anything else. As if! This food was incredible. The only reason I would need her to make anything else is if I ate all of it and there wasn’t any left for others when they got up/finished their massages. As it turns out I underestimated Isabella, as she prepares a separate breakfast for each person as they get up.
After my relaxing shower, Myron and Anna said that they were going to take me out to the beach for lunch. Martin (aka “driver”) took us to a delightful restaurant right on the beach where the surfers spend their days. It was gorgeous, the weather was perfect and the food was fantastic. After much insistence, Ana and Myron finally agreed to let me pay for lunch. Thank goodness. While I had bought them a bottle of their favorite tequila as a thank you, clearly that wasn’t sufficient for the amazing hospitality and treatment I was receiving.
A picture of us at lunch.
The view from the restaurant....
Sandy (the lab), Winnie (the dog up front next to Sandy), Jenny (the bulldog) and Kali (the mutt)
Look at that face, her tongue hung out of the side of her mouth most of the time. Too cute!
And it wasn't just the people who got first class meals and service from the staff. Here is Isabella preparing their dinner. These dogs live the high life.
And my mother always says that you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat their dogs. Let me assure all of you, the Steckleins are good people, you can just tell by how loving they are with their dogs.
I mean really, I have “driver” to pick me up at the airport, 3 maids to provide me with everything I need (and many things I don’t), a masseuse to relieve the tiny amount of stress that wasn’t removed by sitting on the outdoor couch reading the People Magazine I bought at the airport, and fun people to chat with and get to know. Call TACA airlines and cancel my ticket because I am never leaving.
When I woke up Saturday morning from my delightful sleep, in a bedroom on the top floor overlooking the city, I strolled downstairs, got love from the dogs, gave love to the dogs, sat on the back deck to read my book, had a delightful breakfast (prepared and removed by someone else) and a massage. Really people, I could get used to this. And, before breakfast, when Ana came out to the back deck to join me, she asked what I wanted for breakfast…after I told her I was happy eating anything, Isabella made a delightful breakfast. When we sat down to be served, Isabella stood back for a minute while I tried everything to ensure I liked it and didn’t need her to make anything else. As if! This food was incredible. The only reason I would need her to make anything else is if I ate all of it and there wasn’t any left for others when they got up/finished their massages. As it turns out I underestimated Isabella, as she prepares a separate breakfast for each person as they get up.
After my relaxing shower, Myron and Anna said that they were going to take me out to the beach for lunch. Martin (aka “driver”) took us to a delightful restaurant right on the beach where the surfers spend their days. It was gorgeous, the weather was perfect and the food was fantastic. After much insistence, Ana and Myron finally agreed to let me pay for lunch. Thank goodness. While I had bought them a bottle of their favorite tequila as a thank you, clearly that wasn’t sufficient for the amazing hospitality and treatment I was receiving.
A picture of us at lunch.
The view from the restaurant....When we got back to their house, they hung a hammock up on their back deck for me, and I took a two hour nap in the afternoon sun. We had drinks and dinner on the deck again in the evening (turns out that is where they usually eat as the weather seems to be perfect all the time), and while we were sitting on their deck watching the city below us, drinking great wine, I commented that the only thing missing was fireworks. I guess I had been thinking about fireworks as the 4th was approaching, but also because I just knew from their deck you would have the most amazing view ever. And we all know I am a big fan of the fireworks.
Ana told me that the city has a big fireworks show every New Year’s Eve and that their family hosts a big party at their house with dinner and drinks. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend New Year’s….no crowded bars, no waiting in line for drinks or bathrooms (according to my calculations the house has 9) and there are fireworks? Add in the possibility of hot Latin men to flirt with…where do I sign up??
They must have been reading my mind (or it could have been that I raised my hand in the air, waved it around and said “pick me, pick me”), because they invited me to come to their house for New Year’s this year. I told them not to do such a thing as I would clearly take them up on their offer. They said that I was absolutely welcome to come and would have a bedroom waiting for me.
Really, could I love these people any more?
Oh, and can I go ahead and request my massage time now? I am sure after all the salsa dancing I do with the gorgeous Latin men; I am going to need a little rub down. And, I prefer diet coke and gallo pinto for breakfast after a good night of drinking, if you could just let Isabella know.
Sunday was another relaxing morning with breakfast and reading on the deck…followed, sadly, by my departure back to Costa Rica. They asked me stay longer, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option as I have a job (though theoretically I could have worked more easily from there as the internet connection was better) and my brother and Nancy were coming into town the following weekend. Ana and Myron took me to the airport (“driver” has Sundays off) and when I said goodbye, they said “We hope to see you at New Year’s.”
Your wish is my command.
When I got back to Costa Rica my voyage through immigration was very simple. I walked up to the officer and began speaking to him in Spanish (smart move I thought). He took my documents and looked them over while chatting with me. I have never worked so hard to make sure I understood someone in all of my life.
During the conversation, he asked me why I was in Costa Rica, and I told him it was because I wanted to learn Spanish. He commented that my Spanish appeared to be very good (one of my favorite things to hear, however I only have about 10 topics that I can discuss well, and travel happens to be one of them), to which I explained that I had a long way to go. He then told me that Spanish was a difficult language and that even when Spaniards come to Costa Rica, he has a hard time understanding them. He then, without asking me any other questions, stamped my passport for 90 more days and sent me on my merry way. Fantastic. I guess spending a couple thousand dollars on Spanish lessons has its perks.
My only “hitch” in the whole weekend was my transportation back to Manuel Antonio from the airport. Due to the time my flight arrived in San Jose, I wasn’t able to take one of the simple shuttles back to Manuel Antonio…therefore, I was forced to take the regular bus. While this would have scared me to no end when I arrived in Costa Rica (reminder, I get lost on busses in San Francisco where I have lived for 10 years and speak the language), I felt pretty good about this ride. It was a direct bus from San Jose to Manuel Antonio, how could I go wrong?
I had heard that the bus station in San Jose (which is a $25 cab ride from the airport) was kind of dangerous, especially on Sunday evenings when all the local stores were closed, which was not particularly comforting. While I may have practiced my travel Spanish, one thing I have not practiced is how to respond to someone who has a knife or a gun who is trying to steal my purse/luggage. Not only is this not a part of any lesson on my language cd’s, I am also pretty sure that no matter how much studying and practice I did, if this type of thing occurred, the only Spanish I would be able to successfully muster would be “No me gusta,” which frankly wouldn’t do me much good. It didn’t help me on the tarzan swing, and it certainly didn’t stop the sloth from being violated…I can’t imagine how it would help me hold onto my possessions.
Because of all of this, I decided it was in my best interest to catch a cab at the airport and have them drop me off at a restaurant close to the bus station as I had 2.5 hours to kill before my bus left. I had (with the help of Roger), previously bought my bus ticket, and showed up at the station about 30 minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave.
It is a good thing I bought my ticket in advance as there was a HUGE line for the bus/tickets. I was told to “cut” in front of all the people in line, where I boarded the bus, took my very small assigned isle seat, and settled in for the 3 hour ride. I had thought in advance that I would sleep on this bus ride, but quickly realized with no leg room, an isle seat, someone sitting in the window seat next to me and people standing in the isle (for the full 3 hours), that wasn’t going to happen. About 20 minutes into the drive, we began going down some very windy roads...which in the front seat of a car during daylight hours don’t seem so bad. However, the bus was dark, crowded and hot, and I realized this was not going to be a pleasant experience for someone (like me) who gets motion sickness.
It was at that point in time that I realized that while I thought ahead enough to pack motion sickness medication, I wasn’t smart enough to put it in my backpack, and it was therefore under the bus in my suitcase. Not an ideal place for it. I tried to sit back and relax, but after about 30 more minutes of failed relaxation techniques, I knew if I didn’t get some air I was going to throw up.
As I have previously mentioned, in general (and by general I mean sober), I am only comfortable using my Spanish with people I know…or if necessary with locals who expect bad Spanish from the Gringos. And although I know that in order to really master Spanish, I am going to have to get over this anxiety, while I am trying to fight back the vomit that is starting to enter my mouth, confidence is not really on my side.
Although I know the word for “open” I couldn’t remember the word for “window” (there aren’t many of them here in Costa Rica so I have never had to use it before) and was trying to figure out the best words to use in a sentence to ask the gentleman next to me, in the window seat, to please open the window quickly before I blew chunks. I had avoided this conversation for as long as possible because it was too dark to look in my Spanish/English dictionary and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself; but as the bitter taste of vomit was appearing in my mouth I decided I had better do something. Which, of course, brought about the “I’d rather” game:
Would I rather embarrass myself by speaking choppy Spanish…
Or
Embarrass myself by throwing up on a stranger….
When you lay the options out like that, the answer is pretty clear. See, the “I’d rather” game is very valuable, not always rational, but always valuable.
So, in my best “I am about to throw up Spanish,” I asked the man next to me to please open the window. Apparently my Spanish wasn’t too bad bc he instantly responded to my request, though unfortunately there was no window handle, and he couldn’t get the window open. Houston, we have a problem.
As I had already tried all of the throw up prevention methods currently available to me (gum, diet coke, water, plantain chips) and none of them were working, I began to feel a little stressed. I started to feel around in my backpack with the hope of finding a plastic bag of some sort to throw up into, when a miracle happened, and the gentleman found an object to stick in the little hole where the handle had once been, and open the window. I almost cried I was so relieved and thanked the man profusely. As soon as the fresh air came in, I felt much better and decided I was going to be ok.
We then stopped at a rest stop for a bathroom break (another thing I was relieved by, no pun intended) and when we got back on the bus, the kind gentleman offered to let me sit by the window where the air would blow directly on me. I have never been so close to proposing marriage in my life! The rest of the ride was fine and while I was sad that I was no longer in San Salvador, and there was no one here to make me breakfast or give me a massage…it was nice to be home. It was also nice to know that my new travel visa would get me through the rest of my time in paradise.
Upon my return home, I sent an email to Ana and Myron to let them know that I had arrived safely with no visa issues. They responded with an email saying:
Good morning Becca:
Ana told me that the city has a big fireworks show every New Year’s Eve and that their family hosts a big party at their house with dinner and drinks. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend New Year’s….no crowded bars, no waiting in line for drinks or bathrooms (according to my calculations the house has 9) and there are fireworks? Add in the possibility of hot Latin men to flirt with…where do I sign up??
They must have been reading my mind (or it could have been that I raised my hand in the air, waved it around and said “pick me, pick me”), because they invited me to come to their house for New Year’s this year. I told them not to do such a thing as I would clearly take them up on their offer. They said that I was absolutely welcome to come and would have a bedroom waiting for me.
Really, could I love these people any more?
Oh, and can I go ahead and request my massage time now? I am sure after all the salsa dancing I do with the gorgeous Latin men; I am going to need a little rub down. And, I prefer diet coke and gallo pinto for breakfast after a good night of drinking, if you could just let Isabella know.
Sunday was another relaxing morning with breakfast and reading on the deck…followed, sadly, by my departure back to Costa Rica. They asked me stay longer, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option as I have a job (though theoretically I could have worked more easily from there as the internet connection was better) and my brother and Nancy were coming into town the following weekend. Ana and Myron took me to the airport (“driver” has Sundays off) and when I said goodbye, they said “We hope to see you at New Year’s.”
Your wish is my command.
When I got back to Costa Rica my voyage through immigration was very simple. I walked up to the officer and began speaking to him in Spanish (smart move I thought). He took my documents and looked them over while chatting with me. I have never worked so hard to make sure I understood someone in all of my life.
During the conversation, he asked me why I was in Costa Rica, and I told him it was because I wanted to learn Spanish. He commented that my Spanish appeared to be very good (one of my favorite things to hear, however I only have about 10 topics that I can discuss well, and travel happens to be one of them), to which I explained that I had a long way to go. He then told me that Spanish was a difficult language and that even when Spaniards come to Costa Rica, he has a hard time understanding them. He then, without asking me any other questions, stamped my passport for 90 more days and sent me on my merry way. Fantastic. I guess spending a couple thousand dollars on Spanish lessons has its perks.
My only “hitch” in the whole weekend was my transportation back to Manuel Antonio from the airport. Due to the time my flight arrived in San Jose, I wasn’t able to take one of the simple shuttles back to Manuel Antonio…therefore, I was forced to take the regular bus. While this would have scared me to no end when I arrived in Costa Rica (reminder, I get lost on busses in San Francisco where I have lived for 10 years and speak the language), I felt pretty good about this ride. It was a direct bus from San Jose to Manuel Antonio, how could I go wrong?
I had heard that the bus station in San Jose (which is a $25 cab ride from the airport) was kind of dangerous, especially on Sunday evenings when all the local stores were closed, which was not particularly comforting. While I may have practiced my travel Spanish, one thing I have not practiced is how to respond to someone who has a knife or a gun who is trying to steal my purse/luggage. Not only is this not a part of any lesson on my language cd’s, I am also pretty sure that no matter how much studying and practice I did, if this type of thing occurred, the only Spanish I would be able to successfully muster would be “No me gusta,” which frankly wouldn’t do me much good. It didn’t help me on the tarzan swing, and it certainly didn’t stop the sloth from being violated…I can’t imagine how it would help me hold onto my possessions.
Because of all of this, I decided it was in my best interest to catch a cab at the airport and have them drop me off at a restaurant close to the bus station as I had 2.5 hours to kill before my bus left. I had (with the help of Roger), previously bought my bus ticket, and showed up at the station about 30 minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave.
It is a good thing I bought my ticket in advance as there was a HUGE line for the bus/tickets. I was told to “cut” in front of all the people in line, where I boarded the bus, took my very small assigned isle seat, and settled in for the 3 hour ride. I had thought in advance that I would sleep on this bus ride, but quickly realized with no leg room, an isle seat, someone sitting in the window seat next to me and people standing in the isle (for the full 3 hours), that wasn’t going to happen. About 20 minutes into the drive, we began going down some very windy roads...which in the front seat of a car during daylight hours don’t seem so bad. However, the bus was dark, crowded and hot, and I realized this was not going to be a pleasant experience for someone (like me) who gets motion sickness.
It was at that point in time that I realized that while I thought ahead enough to pack motion sickness medication, I wasn’t smart enough to put it in my backpack, and it was therefore under the bus in my suitcase. Not an ideal place for it. I tried to sit back and relax, but after about 30 more minutes of failed relaxation techniques, I knew if I didn’t get some air I was going to throw up.
As I have previously mentioned, in general (and by general I mean sober), I am only comfortable using my Spanish with people I know…or if necessary with locals who expect bad Spanish from the Gringos. And although I know that in order to really master Spanish, I am going to have to get over this anxiety, while I am trying to fight back the vomit that is starting to enter my mouth, confidence is not really on my side.
Although I know the word for “open” I couldn’t remember the word for “window” (there aren’t many of them here in Costa Rica so I have never had to use it before) and was trying to figure out the best words to use in a sentence to ask the gentleman next to me, in the window seat, to please open the window quickly before I blew chunks. I had avoided this conversation for as long as possible because it was too dark to look in my Spanish/English dictionary and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself; but as the bitter taste of vomit was appearing in my mouth I decided I had better do something. Which, of course, brought about the “I’d rather” game:
Would I rather embarrass myself by speaking choppy Spanish…
Or
Embarrass myself by throwing up on a stranger….
When you lay the options out like that, the answer is pretty clear. See, the “I’d rather” game is very valuable, not always rational, but always valuable.
So, in my best “I am about to throw up Spanish,” I asked the man next to me to please open the window. Apparently my Spanish wasn’t too bad bc he instantly responded to my request, though unfortunately there was no window handle, and he couldn’t get the window open. Houston, we have a problem.
As I had already tried all of the throw up prevention methods currently available to me (gum, diet coke, water, plantain chips) and none of them were working, I began to feel a little stressed. I started to feel around in my backpack with the hope of finding a plastic bag of some sort to throw up into, when a miracle happened, and the gentleman found an object to stick in the little hole where the handle had once been, and open the window. I almost cried I was so relieved and thanked the man profusely. As soon as the fresh air came in, I felt much better and decided I was going to be ok.
We then stopped at a rest stop for a bathroom break (another thing I was relieved by, no pun intended) and when we got back on the bus, the kind gentleman offered to let me sit by the window where the air would blow directly on me. I have never been so close to proposing marriage in my life! The rest of the ride was fine and while I was sad that I was no longer in San Salvador, and there was no one here to make me breakfast or give me a massage…it was nice to be home. It was also nice to know that my new travel visa would get me through the rest of my time in paradise.
Upon my return home, I sent an email to Ana and Myron to let them know that I had arrived safely with no visa issues. They responded with an email saying:
Good morning Becca:
Good to hear that you are safely back and you accomplished your mission for the visa. We enjoyed having you. You came as Byron's friend, but you can come back anytime you want as Becca.
Take care, Myron & Ana
Guess I am as charming as I thought…and I didn’t even make them banana bread. New Year’s Eve can’t come fast enough!!
Guess I am as charming as I thought…and I didn’t even make them banana bread. New Year’s Eve can’t come fast enough!!
And it wasn't only the people who were fantastic, the dogs were just precious. Here are some shots...
Sandy (the lab), Winnie (the dog up front next to Sandy), Jenny (the bulldog) and Kali (the mutt)
Look at that face, her tongue hung out of the side of her mouth most of the time. Too cute!
And it wasn't just the people who got first class meals and service from the staff. Here is Isabella preparing their dinner. These dogs live the high life.
And my mother always says that you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat their dogs. Let me assure all of you, the Steckleins are good people, you can just tell by how loving they are with their dogs.
