1 Year Later

Today marks exactly one year since I left for Costa Rica to kick off my big yearlong study abroad adventure!

I feel like I should write something profound but I am so tired right now from a week of filling in the gaps while my mom is out of town, getting myself ready to move back to San Diego for school, and teaching a dance class for my old dance teacher today while she is out of town.  But I guess I can share my version of a famous Tolkien quote that has drifted through my head a lot this year as I bounced from place to place:

Not all who wander are lost, but it sure is fun to get lost so you can find yourself :)

I hope you have enjoyed following along on my travels this year, and continue to follow me wherever my life takes me next!  I mean, going back to San Diego for school is kind of like traveling, right?

Update: Just because I keep meaning to throw this on the blog sometime...

To anyone who says they don't want to do a night hike Costa Rica because they are scared of spiders, or can't get scuba certified because they don't think they can take off their mask and put it back on under water, or don't want to go to Morocco because they don't want to see meat hanging in shops with the animal head there to show you what kind of meat it is, or even don't want to go somewhere because they don't know anyone or speak the language, here is what I have to say: IF I CAN DO IT, YOU CAN DO IT.

This year, I refused to let fear hold me back from doing things I wanted to do.  It was a conscious decision.  Apparently, fear is a lot more mental than we think.

Hammam!

Just a warning: This is about a public bath so it will include discussion of partial/full nudity.

ISA organized small group trips to the hammam for our first time, so my first time was with a group of about 5 girls along with Iman, our female ISA director.  We brought our shower supplies and towels, as well as mats, little water scoops, small plastic hair brush things, black soap (made from some part of olives), henna powder, spare underwear, and these little scrubby mitts.  Well, ok Iman brought most of that the first time but I now am in possession of all the hammam supplies!  We walk into the first room, which looks like a locker room, where a few women are laying or sitting down in their towels.  They are clearly done and are just hanging out, relaxing, before they get dressed to leave.  While Iman pays and gets us large buckets, we wonder if we are just supposed to start stripping here or not.  Tentatively, we start, and then a woman walks in and strips as fast as I have to during quick costume changes in dance shows!  This makes us more comfortable, so we strip down to our underwear (no bras), wrap up in our towels, and wait for Iman.  When we are all ready, we walk through a door into a steamy room that is mostly empty, and through to an even hotter and steamier room where there are women seated all around the walls, bathing.  There are two pipes running around the room, one blue for cold water and one red for hot, with little faucets every few feet.  We find a spot where most of us can fit, set down our mats, and start filling out buckets from the faucets.  We sit down and Iman tells us first to just use our scoops to pour warm water on ourselves.  After a few minutes of this, she mixes the black soap and henna powder with some water to make this green slime and tells us to rub it everywhere.  During this, another dancer in my group and I ask Iman if it is ok to take off our underwear since about half of the women in the room were not wearing any and it kind of got in the way.  She seemed surprised, but told us it was perfectly fine, she just never expected American girls to be comfortable with it.  We told her that as dancers and performers, sometimes you have to change in front of other people, so a lot of the time you just get more comfortable with it.  I know it seems weird from an American perspective, but bathing in underwear is just not that comfortable.  Note: Apparently full nudity does not fly in the male hammams.  After covering ourselves in the green slime (or as I like to call it, playing “swamp thing”), we rinse it off.  Iman then shows us how dead skin comes off in rolls if you rub a finger over your arm.  This next part was definitely the most different and memorable part of the hammam experience.  Two at a time, we go to the middle of the room with our mats and our scrubby mitts to where a couple almost naked women (just underwear like everyone else) are waiting to scrub us.  I lie down, and she takes some of the black soap and proceeds to scrub me cleaner than I have ever been in my life.  Without language, she has to point and prod and sometimes just grab me and move me where she wants me to be.  Almost every inch of me was scrubbed, and hard.  It even hurt sometimes, but I just tried to grit my teeth and bear it.  You can say “shwiya, shwiya” (one of our most used words meaning something like “a little”) to get them to lighten up, but I wanted to see what it was like to just let them do their thing.  After being scrubbed, we returned back to our corner to wash our hair and then use our own “nice” smelling soap before a final rinse off.  We used the little plastic brush things while washing our hair and I have actually started using the brush in the shower, too.  It makes it easier to rinse out all the shampoo or conditioner and makes my hair turn out smoother and less tangled.  After this, we walked back out to the locker room, sat for a little bit, got dressed, covered our hair (Moroccans believe wet hair is the quickest way to get sick so you have to cover your hair or they will cover it for you), and went home to relax.  I loved it so much, I have been back about every other week since :)

Marhaba

“Marhaba” means “welcome” in Arabic, so you can probably guess that this post is about my first experiences in Morocco.

Jennifer guarding our stuff in the terminal :)

After 5 days in Granada, it was time to head to Morocco!  We loaded the bus and started the drive to Algeciras, the southern Spanish port where we would get on a ferry to Tangier, Morocco.  In case this was the last time I would see them, I bought a thing of Paprika (red pepper) flavored Pringles at the stop we made.  I now know that they have these in Morocco too.  If you ever see them, try them.  They are quite yummy.  Moving on, we arrived at Algeciras, unloaded all of our things, and proceeded to the terminal.  Some form-filling, passport-stamping, and luggage-dragging later (both on the way to and on the boat), we found ourselves seated on the ferry and on our way.  You should have seen us when we realized that the land we could see in front of us was Africa, was Morocco.

Africa

Travel tip about crossing the Strait of Gibraltar: Since the water seemed calm, I decided to try it out without taking anything for seasickness and lucked out.  I got a little dizzy inside, but if I stayed outside on the deck, I was fine.  However, I have heard that conditions can be bad to the point of turning the smooth one hour ride into a miserable four hours, so if you get seasick, you might want to have something ready in case the conditions are not in your favor.

Anyway, when we got to the other side, we passed through more customs, noticing the picture of the king in the port and the women working there with hijaabs (veil/head covering) that matched their uniforms, while trying to semi-contain our excitement at finally being in Morocco.  We loaded our new bus as the call to prayer rang out, and found ourselves in a bus with green shag carpet and psychedelic patterns on the ceiling.  Turns out that is the ISA Morocco bus and we use it whenever we travel.  Possible names we discussed: the Love Bus, the Magic Carpet, the Magic School Bus.  About half an hour later we arrived in the actual city of Tangier, which is not in the same place as the port.  We dropped our stuff off in the hotel, stopped at ATMs and currency exchange stores, walked around a little, and then had less than an hour to get dinner before our academic orientation back at the hotel.

We wandered around looking for Melwi, something that Daniel’s girlfriend, Cristina, recommended and that I have been eating most days for breakfast now, but could not find them at a place that would be fast enough.  I was with Don and Nita, two other students from my program, and we saw some others eating in a pizza and shawarma place that was so small it barely had standing room.  The other girls finished eating so we swapped in to where they had been standing and ordered food using a mixture of various languages and pointing at the menu, but still had hardly any room to eat.  The man behind the counter directed us to go upstairs.  We saw a tiny, winding, spiral staircase in the back that was practically a ladder and climbed up it to find ourselves in another small, full, low-ceilinged room.  Since all the tables were taken and we had more room to stand up there, we started eating standing up.  It was then that a woman holding a baby pulled the extra chair next to her out from behind the table and gave it to us before gesturing to others to do the same.  Less than a minute later, we found ourselves with chairs, sitting in a small circle in the middle of the room.  A family next to us then moved their stuff from the two tables it was on to one and gave us the other table.  When the worker came up to bring someone their pizza, we expected him to be upset or at least annoyed, but he didn’t even react.  All we could do was grin uncontrollably as we ate, and say “shukran” (thank you in Arabic) repeatedly to everyone in the room.  I could not have asked for or even imagined a nicer welcome to Morocco :)

Banana-Nutella crepe and Moroccan mint tea

But the welcome was not over since that was just our first night in Morocco and we weren’t even in our soon-to-be hometown of Meknes.  That night I went to a café with a group of people and got a banana and Nutella crepe and mint tea, the Moroccan specialty!  There was a slight peanut allergy glitch, but it was an otherwise good night.  Before leaving Tangier the next day, we had a walking tour of the city.  We learned that every traditional Arab neighborhood has 5 things: a mosque, a school, a well, a public bakery, and a hammam, a traditional public bathing place.  Religion, education, water, food, and hygiene.  What more do you need?  We wandered through the medina, or old city, and then came to the meat and fish market.  I had prepared myself for the sight of dead animals still mostly whole, but I had not prepared for the smell.  Let’s just say I was grateful for all the practice I got not breathing through my nose during scuba certification.  After some more shawarma for lunch, we loaded back onto the bus to head to Meknes!

ISA Meknes group in Tangier

I don’t know about you, but when I thought about going to Africa and Morocco, I did not imagine rolling green hillsides.  Well that’s what we drove through on our way from Tangier to Meknes.  It was beautiful, especially when the sun set right before we got there.  And then we were in Meknes, the bus pulling up next to one of the apartment buildings and Michelina and I pressing our noses up against the window of the bus to see our host mom and little brother waiting outside.  We got out, all smiles, and met our host mom, Majda, and Mamoun, our host brother who is ten years old but will be turning eleven the day before I turn twenty-two.  Before we knew it, they took us to the car to load up our stuff and drive what turned out to only be a couple blocks to our new home for the next three and a half months.

Sunset in Morocco

Time-sensitive Shots, Tall Buildings and Train Rides

Over one month later, and here I am again!  I meant to write some updates while I was home about Costa Rica reflections and Morocco preparations, but I failed.  A quick summary of my life since my last post before I go into details: about a month at home including a trip to San Diego and Disneyland, flying to Frankfurt, visiting friends in Brussels and Groningen, and taking a lot of trains to Madrid before I go to Granada tomorrow to meet my program group.  Now for the details:

Home

After being gone for 3 months, being home felt surreal, almost as if I had just gone back in time to before I left, except that it was winter instead of summer.  Surprisingly, the reverse culture shock did not hit me as hard this time as after my month in Argentina, probably because I was mentally preparing myself for it for weeks.  What was so strange about it the first time was not so much that being home felt weird, but how wrong it felt for home to be so weird.  You expect to feel like a stranger in a new place, but you don’t expect to feel so out of place at home.  I think being ready for it actually made it a lot easier because it took away that extra layer of shock, if that makes sense.  I also think I may have culture shocked my family a bit since I brought some of the pura vida lifestyle back with me…

The other big change for me was my nephew!  When I left in September, he was only 2 months old.  When I came back in December, he was just about 5 months old!  Even though I had seen a lot of pictures and a video, I could not believe how much bigger he was and how much more he was doing!  He went from smiling by accident and making a few cooing noises to smiling all the time and babbling; from not even rolling over to rolling and scooting and almost sitting and standing!  He even has 2 teeth!  However, I have to do another long gap again.  He was 6 months old when I left and will be 10 months when I come back, so I will have a whole new set of things to miss and catch up on.  But I did make good use of my time at home and went with my mom every Tuesday (her babysitting day) to spend all day with them, except for the day I went later in the day because of my rabies shot.

My stupid rabies shot.  This is the only vaccination I have ever heard of with such specific time rules.  You have to get 3 of the same shot on days 0 (so whenever you decide to start it), 7, and 21 or 28.  I forgot about needing this shot until I only had about 21 days left so I had to get them on a Tuesday schedule which meant going to Kaiser with my mom and my nephew.  And if I get bitten by something and think they might have rabies, I still have to get more shots!  But it does reduce the number of shots I need and I don’t need the one that can be hard to get so I guess it was worth it.  However, between that shot and having to pay full price for extra orders of my prescription, I am ready to be done with hospitals for a while.  Hear that body?

Other than all this, my time at home was spent relaxing and hanging out with friends and family.  Oh, and trying to make my wardrobe more modest by non-southern-Californian standards meaning higher necks and longer sleeves rather than the tank tops I can usually get away with.  Also made a trip down to San Diego to visit some friends and went to Disneyland with the Hawaii Club Disney Crew :)

Come January 19 and it was time to head to the airport.  I had packed my big backpack, my small suitcase, a laptop messenger bag, and my purse.  I would have shipped some stuff so I could travel lighter for the first 2 weeks but shipping to Europe is expensive and shipping to Morocco is about double that.  Since I planned on using trains, I thought multiple smaller, lighter bags were better than one massive, heavy bag and I think I was right.  I had a 5 days in 2 months Eurail Pass and plans to visit a couple friends before meeting my program in Granada for our Spain orientation (before going to Morocco).

The Benefits of Traveling During the Low Season

Not only was SFO practically empty, but my plane was only 40% full.  Oh yes.  11 hours from San Francisco to Frankfurt and I managed to sleep for about half of them, sprawled across 3 seats.  I arrived in Frankfurt at 9:45 am local time on Thursday and due to my bags already being on the claim when I got there and no stopping for customs, I made it on the train to Brussels at 10:32 am.  Paid for some wifi on the train and looked at the snow outside before napping.  For the sake of my train count, I will mention that something was wrong with this train and we had to switch somewhere so that’s 2 trains to Brussels.

Train total: 2

Brussels

Remember those Belgian guys I met on the journey back to San Jose from Panama?  Chris was in Brussels for a few weeks before going on more adventures so I visited him there for 2 days.  Jet lag left me tired, but the party schedule of those 2 days worked well with it so I consider it a fast adjustment.  I climbed a lot of stairs since I was staying on the 4th floor of his house (well American 4th, European 3rd), listened to a lot of French, drank a lot of wine, went to my first wine and cheese party, and had a great time!  I learned how to say in French that I don’t speak French, but I must say it too well because both times I have used it now I have gotten very strange looks…  We wandered around the center of Brussels and I saw some stuff I remembered from when I was there with my dad, and I now have a membership at Carré, a big club outside the city that I definitely did not go to with my dad.  I would offer to take you next time, but I don’t think you would like it…

To get to Groningen on Saturday to visit Maren where she goes to Uni in the Netherlands, I had to take 3 trains: first to Amsterdam, then to Hilversum, and then to Groningen.  I will say that some of these train rides were short, but those were usually the ones that did not have luggage racks so I had to sit/stand awkwardly with my stuff by the doors and therefore count them separately in the train count.

Train total: 5

Groningen

There may have been a lot of stairs in Brussels, but there were very steep and narrow stairs in Groningen.  Even though my first night there was a Saturday, we decided to stay in and watch a movie because jetlag and Brussels nightlife had worn me out and Maren was getting over being sick.  We actually did a lot of sleeping during my visit and it was glorious!  Next day, we wanted to go to the town center and the best way to get around is on bikes (as it is just about everywhere in the Netherlands).  Since I didn’t have a bike, I borrowed her roommate’s, which was too tall.  I learned that first night that it was better if I used Maren’s and she used her roommate’s, and that the bike paths move in a certain way that I did not quite understand, but not without falling first.  Yes, I did bump my head and I’m sorry mom, but no I was not wearing a helmet (no one there does) but I was very aware of how I felt for the next few hours and days and my head only hit the ground after a few other points of contact so it didn’t hit very hard.  I can tell you this because I am no longer there, riding a bike without a helmet, and it has been long enough that any damage would have made itself known by now.  Luckily, the only things that actually broke were the rear bike light, my gloves, my sunglasses (in my purse), and some skin.  All replaceable.  Turns out I had just bought another pair of my sunglasses at Disneyland to leave at home in case anything happened to my old pair, and my H&M gloves were sitting in a bin at the H&M in Groningen.  Took us a few days to remember to buy a new bike light and I am still working on re-growing the skin, but compared to the last bike accident I saw where one guy lost a tooth, this was nothing.

Other than falling off a bike, I had a great time seeing Maren.  For those who don’t know, she is from Germany and was an exchange student at my high school my senior year and we got pretty close.  We chilled, cooked, hung out with her friends, and I rode on the back of a bike for the first time when her roommate wasn’t around to let us use hers.  On Wednesday, due to bad train schedules, I had to start my journey to Granada.  I left Groningen at 3:46 pm for Gouda, then Rotterdam, then Paris (3 trains).  Then I took the metro to another train station in Paris (1 train…yes, I am counting metro) to catch a night train to the Spanish border town of Irun where I could get a train to Madrid (2 trains).

Train total: 11

Madrid

Well, this was supposed to be my catch-up-on-sleep night, but this blog is taking forever to write and I am actually not that tired.  Guess all that napping on the trains really did count as sleep!  I got here in the afternoon and reserved my train to Granada for the morning, then headed to Hostal San Martin.  I booked it on hostelbookers.com where it had good reviews and was one of the cheapest single rooms I could find in a building with an elevator.  It seems nice enough, and the room has a TV and a small shower and sink with the room, as well as free wifi and a lot of storage space.  For the price and location in the city center, it is very nice, but it is definitely more of a guesthouse than a hostel as far as the atmosphere is concerned.  But since I was not planning on going out tonight, that is perfect for me!  I got food at Maoz, my favorite chain from my European adventures 3 and a half years ago, and even found my favorite gelato place.  Unfortunately, it has a sign up saying it is only open Friday-Sunday, my guess being those are winter hours since even I was considering skipping it even though it is my favorite and I am not in Madrid very often to get it!  I wandered for a few hours and found my hostel from last time, as well as the area that my guidebook said it was (the one time Let’s Go has ever let me down was when they mismarked my hostel on the map in the book) and even the restaurant I stopped at to see if they knew where my hostel was where one of the waiters got a phone to call and find out so that he could direct me!  I love going to new places, but I also love going back to places I have been to before and wandering into places I recognize :)

Tomorrow I go to Granada and meet up with my ISA group for a few days of orientation there before we go to Morocco on Tuesday, and Meknes on Wednesday!  I’ll try to find time to write again soon!

My New Travel Must-Haves

Everyone has those travel items that they just can’t go anywhere without, and I have two things to add to my list that already includes items such as a good travel purse, my linen pants, comfortable shoes, and an umbrella.  These two new items are Avon Skin-So-Soft Bug Guard and (sorry, this is probably TMI but I feel I must share this with the female population) the Diva Cup.

Skin-So-Soft Bug Guard: Once upon a time, my mom heard about Avon and the Skin-So-Soft product that was apparently an amazing bug repellant.  This was good news because I am one of those unlucky people who mosquitoes have always seemed to love.  Unfortunately, we could not find it, but then, last Christmas, one of my presents from my mom contained two bottles of this rumored miracle bug spray.  I didn’t have a chance to try it before I came to Costa Rica, so I also brought some DEET with me.  I don’t know about everyone else out there, but I don’t like DEET.  It makes me nervous with all the rules about when and where you can wear it and how you have to shower it off as soon as you are indoors.  Since I get bitten just about everywhere (both where I am and where on me), DEET just doesn’t quite work for me.  Luckily, Avon (and my mom) has come to my rescue!  This product does not smell like a mass of chemicals AND you do not need to wash it off immediately.  It also contains SPF 30 sunscreen.  And did I mention it works?  I have worn this during a canopy tour, rappelling down waterfalls, and hiking right after sunset and it protected me every time.  Yes, I am still getting devoured by mosquitoes, but only during those times when I decide there shouldn’t be mosquitoes around and I don’t bother spraying myself.  The only downsides I can find are that it is pretty oily and it cannot spray upside down, but its effectiveness makes it completely worth it!

Diva Cup: This is when anyone who does not get a period and/or doesn’t like talking about them should probably stop reading.  Consider yourself warned.  The Diva Cup is a menstrual cup that is used to catch menstrual blood.  Unlike a tampon, it does not absorb anything so it does not cause TSS.  Therefore, it can be inserted before your period even starts and can be used until the last bits of spotting are done.  You have to empty it and clean it with mild, unscented, Ph balanced soap (such as the Diva Wash) twice a day when you have access to potable water and the rest of the time, it goes unnoticed.  This is great all the time, but especially while traveling.  I do not have to lug around tons of pads and/or tampons and I don’t have to worry about changing pads/tampons every __ hours.  Since I am sleeping in places with potable tap water, it is easy to wash it every morning when I wake up, and every night before I go to bed.  For travel in third world countries, I believe there are methods to make it work.  I was on my period while in Arenal and it was not a problem at all, not even with rappelling down waterfalls or hiking and swimming everyday.  For more information, google “diva cup” or “menstrual cup”.

The Wild Bus Chase OR My Faith in Humanity OR So this is why you’re supposed to carry US$100 hidden in your bag so that you forget about it until that crucial moment when you’re really grateful you have it

I apologize for how long this post is, but it was a long adventure.  I really need to map this all out, but I haven’t done that yet so words will have to suffice.  Oh, and keep in mind that this happened almost entirely in Spanish.

Also, one quick note about the national park: When planning what you will do each day, make sure you remember somewhat early on Sunday that your plans to go on Monday morning before you leave will not work because Manuel Antonio National Park is closed on Mondays.  We forgot until after the park had already closed on Sunday.  Oops.

Well, come Monday afternoon, and it was time to leave Manuel Antonio and head back to San Jose so that my friend could fly back home today.  We went to the bus station earlier in the day to make sure we had tickets like we were told, hung out at the hotel a bit, my friend bought some souvenirs in the gift shop (I just now saw all the same stuff at a little market in San Jose), and then we headed back to Quepos to catch our 5:00 bus.  We got there around 4:30 and it was raining, so we sat down on some benches that were covered and in a spot where we could see all the buses.  Or so we thought.  Around 5:25 we started getting a little nervous.  Yes, the bus was coming from Manuel Antonio so it wasn’t supposed to be there exactly at 5, but this felt a little late.  We asked around and our fears were confirmed: We had missed our bus, which was the last bus from Quepos to San Jose of the day.

The bus driver, his assistant, and one of his passengers who had confirmed that our bus had simply passed through and somehow we didn’t see it were very helpful.  They told us that if we got on that bus, it would take us to Puntarenas where we could catch a bus at 9 that would take us to San Jose.  If you look at a map, this is a very roundabout way to get from Quepos to San Jose, but we decided it would be much better to be in San Jose Monday night.  We got on the bus.

Three hours later, we pull up to a very closed-looking bus station at about 8:40, with only three passengers on the bus.  The other lady just needed a taxi to go a few blocks, but we needed to get to San Jose and the station looked deserted.  The driver’s assistant wandered around, talking to people that I never saw and making phone calls, and learned that there had been an accident on the freeway from Puntarenas to San Jose and that the bus we needed had been canceled.

Continuing to be super nice and helpful (I mean how should they have known our bus would be canceled due to an accident on a freeway their route doesn’t use?) the bus driver and his assistant told us that there is a bus that goes from Liberia to San Jose, that would pass the Restaurante Tavares in Caldera around 10.  Since it was only 9 and they said that a taxi ride there would only take about half an hour, giving us time to grab some quick food and use the bathrooms before getting on another bus, we decided to head to Caldera.  They called us a cab, explained our situation to him, and we were on our way.  Well, almost.  When we mentioned that we might need a bit more cash to pay him, he turned around to take us to an ATM (or ATH here) rather than find one by our destination.  I guess taxi drivers want to know you have the money before they make the drive.

We pulled up to the restaurant around 9:20, and proceeded to make sure we had everything figured out since our luck had been so bad.  Our driver went inside to pass on our story to a waiter there, who came out to help us make sure we understood everything.  The bus sometimes pulled into the restaurant lot (which seemed to be a truckstop), but in case it didn’t, we should wait across the street and wave it down.  It would go by between 9:45 and 10:05.  As our driver was about to leave, he stopped and warned us that this wasn’t a very safe area.  He said if anyone came up to us while we were waiting, to run back to the restaurant across the street.  This was a little worrying, but we figured we wouldn’t be waiting too long, and the restaurant really wasn’t that far.  Ready to be done with our adventure, we hurried inside, used the bathrooms (saw a cockroach), got some sandwiches hoping we weren’t about to add food poisoning to our problems, and crossed the street to wait at 9:35.

Of course, we didn’t forget our driver’s warnings, and so we stood so that we could see all around us if anyone was coming.  A little paranoid because of how our night had been going, we waited.  And waited.  9:45.  10:00.  10:15.  Oh look the restaurant is closed.  Hope nothing happens now.  And then our bus comes around the corner!  We go up to the edge of the sidewalk, waving our arms, and it passes us.  The last bus of the night passes us.  Now what?

Luckily, two waiters from the restaurant, one being the waiter who our driver had talked to earlier, were just leaving on their scooters.  The restaurant was closed, and they were the last people we could see.  There was literally nothing else in view, other than the cars and trucks going by, and some trucks parked just off the road.  They had seen the bus pass us, and so they came over to help us figure out what to do.  We decide that we don’t care how much it costs, we will just take a taxi to San Jose.  He gives me a phone number to call, and I am very happy that I set up my AT&T phone to work down here (even though it is expensive and I now have a Costa Rica phone number to use that is cheaper).  Anyway, first number I try, the lady hangs up on me when I say I need a taxi from Caldera to San Jose.  I try another number, but again they get frustrated and hang up.  The waiter asks me to try the second number again and to let him talk.  I am staring at this waiter, sitting on his scooter, asking me to give him my phone, thinking how easy it would be for him to ride off with it, and decide I don’t really have any other choice.  I give him my phone, and he talks to the taxi company for about 5 minutes.  I can hear him telling the person on the other end our entire journey, which he knows from our taxi driver, who heard it from the bus driver.  Finally, he hangs up, hands me my phone, and tells us to wait 20 minutes for Esparza cab number 39 (the number ensures that you get the legitimate cab you wanted, and not some scam cab you don’t).  He makes me repeat it over and over, and tells us very sternly, “Do not get into any other cab”, which was frankly a little hard to agree to since we were basically stranded in the middle of nowhere with no safety restaurant to go to anymore.  And then they ride away, leaving us alone in this dangerous place, with no safe zone.

I know this doesn’t exactly count as a near-death experience, but it was the most scared for my safety I have ever been.  Two travelers with all of our stuff, standing on the sidewalk by this closed truck stop, with a dark beach behind us, and no sign of anyone who could help us if something happened.  Fearfully waiting and thinking a continuous string of “Don’t panics”, watching boats slink under the nearby bridge, a couple of pairs of guys on bicycles riding past us, and finally at 10:45 we see a cab come around the corner: Esparza 39.

With a huge sigh of relief, we get in the cab and head on our way to San Jose.  We ask him how much it will cost, and he calculates around US$100.  Knowing that we don’t carry that much money around with us, we tell him that we need an ATH.  He starts to look worried, and so do we.  We remember the taxi driver who didn’t seem to want to take us to our destination if we didn’t already have his money, and the last thing we want to do is make another stop after everything that had happened.  Getting legitimately worried that our night is about to take another wrong turn, I suddenly remember the US$100 I have (well, had) in an envelope in my backpack, stashed away for emergencies.  When I tell him that I have the money, he relaxes, and we are finally, really on our way.

7 hours after missing our bus and US$100 later, we finally arrived at our hostel in San Jose, relieved that we made it all that way without anything truly terrible happening.  With a renewed sense that bad things can turn out okay, and that there really are some truly nice people in the world (except for the jerk bus driver who left us stranded in Caldera), we celebrate our safety and my friend’s last night in Costa Rica before passing out after our exhausting adventure.