Driving, Driving, Driving

Here’s what I wrote on Thursday (I haven’t had a chance to post since them…):
6-26-08

Here we are, already at Thursday! These sorts of great vacations just shoot by. We did end up going to the pizza party, on the ATV, in the rain both ways. Like life in these parts, it was a muddy, wet adventure!We haven't done a whole lot the last couple of days--we came down to the beach a few times, used the internet here at the Totobe Resort, and have been relaxing in a general and excellent way. One thing I wanted to mention last time is the wildlife and vegetation here; it’s a whole other class of night noises and bird sounds all day! Just sitting on Uncle Ed's porch and walking around the area we've seen at least 15-20 different species of birds, various squirrels, lizards, butterflies and excitingly fat beetles, and a few foxes. There's a big toad that likes to sit outside of my door...I've started thinking of him as my bodyguard. I've seen only one scorpion so far, though they are around, and we've been warned to shake out any towels, clothes or shoes before using them, and not to step on anything that looks like a leaf. As for plant life, they’ve got a ton of different tropical trees, and so many different kinds of fruit right on the property. It's pretty wild to have come across the country from California--where it hasn't rained since February--to Saratoga, where it was cold and lush, and finally here where the sheer amount and variety of life puts you on sensory overload. What fun!

This morning Antonia and I went in search of the “Jesus Lizard”—you know, the one that runs across water, flailing its arms. Gwen and Uncle Ed said that if you walk down the river near their house, you’re bound to see them running across. I don’t know if we were making too much noise, walking in the wrong place, or there at the wrong time of day or what, but we didn’t see any lizards. We did wade in and out of the river (managing to ford without breaking an axle or loosing a family member) but the adventure made for a soggy walk home! This afternoon we’re going for a ride on Uncle Ed’s horses, so maybe we’ll go back to the river and have better luck.

Tomorrow we’ll head back to San Jose. As it turns out, Uncle Ed’s neighbor Marie is driving in to town, so we get to ride with her instead of taking the bus back. Woohoo! As much as I enjoyed the “rustic” experience of the bus ride, I’ll be happy to arrive in San Jose without feeling as though every part of my body has been through a meat tenderizer. On Saturday Antonia will get on her flight back to the states, and I’ll be staying an extra night in San Jose before taking a bus up to Granada on Sunday. I may or may not write another entry this weekend, time and internet access permitting, but I’m sure I’ll have tales to recount when I get settled in Nicaragua!

06-30-08

Boy howdy, was I right about having tales to recount! As it turned out, Uncle Ed’s friend wasn’t going in to San Jose, so Antonia and I decided that we would take the 2 am bus (not a typo… actually a bus that comes to Uncle Ed’s house at 2 am) back to San Jose so that we would have some time to go shopping and tool around in the city. We woke up at 1:45, blearily gathered our bags, and headed down to the bottom of the hill to wait for the bus. It came just before it started pouring, so lucky us in that respect! They played absolutely the worst film I have ever seen, and because it was so bad, I’m bummed that I can’t remember the name. It had to have been fairly recent because of the age of the actors (some of them were fairly well known) and the cultural references they were making, but the video quality (it was probably a bootleg, now that I think about it…) was awful, the acting was clichéd, the script was horrible, and even the premise of the film was on pretty shaky ground. All of this was made worse by my being bus-sick (no puke, whew!), and the fact that at 8:30 am we were still about an hour from San Jose.

We had planned to disembark in central San Jose, but when the bus got to the airport we decided that we needed to get off, and took a taxi in from there. All in all, it could have been worse….We got to the Hotel Santo Tomas—a quaint little old building with excellent amenities such as free in-room internet, free breakfast and helpful front desk staff—and while we were checking in I realized that I did not have my passport. Luckily, I knew exactly where it was: in my pillowcase at Rhodeside. Doh! I could not believe my own stupidity. I called Gwen to see if there was anyone coming in to San Jose in the next day or two, but there was not, so I quickly began to see that my only option for staying on schedule and retrieving my passport was to rent a car, and drive out there and get it. And so, with some finagling and help at the front desk, I reserved a car for the next morning (Saturday). Then Antonia and I went out for some retail therapy—I’m not usually much of a shopper, but our little outing certainly helped to cheer me up!

Saturday we were up at 6:30, and ready for the car at 7:00. It would seem, however, that in Costa Rica appointments—especially ones in the morning—are more of a suggestion than reality. Suffice it to say that we didn’t get on the road until 8:30. With only one wrong turn, we made it to the highway, and to the airport, where I said goodbye to Antonia. I so wished she were going to accompany me on the drive! But, on I went. I’d stored up quite a few good podcasts, so as far as entertainment went, my drive was great. It seems that people there don’t really understand the idea of staying in the right lane until you need to pass a slower car; even though the highway out of San Jose has three lanes with their respective speed limits printed in 10 foot high white paint on the road at regular intervals, nobody pays any attention to who they might be blocking, or for that matter, who they might be merging into. Once I got out into the countryside a bit more I was much more comfortable. It’s a gorgeous drive out to Bejuco, and I got a nice—though hot—sunny day to take in the sights. I arrived at Rhodeside at about 1:00pm, put my passport into my bag, had a quick lunch of fruit and yogurt, and then turned right around to drive back in to San Jose. There was a lot of traffic on the way back, but the return journey was uneventful until I got back to San Jose at about 6:15 (dusk), where I promptly got completely lost. Where I first found myself was a nice neighborhood, so I asked someone out on a stoop for directions to the hotel. Uncle Ed had told us about how people don’t know the names of the streets in San Jose, and instead, navigate by landmarks, but I had some good maps, and tried to get the guy I was talking to to show me on the map how to get to the hotel. He didn’t point out where I was, but did give me directions back towards “el centro,” saying that he knew the street I was asking for, but didn’t think there was a hotel there—this of course was ridiculous, as I had stayed in the hotel the night before! So I went on my way. A few minutes later, I saw one of the few street signs that are actually posted in the city, as well as a sign on one of the cross streets. I stopped, and found myself on the map, in a place totally other than where I had thought I was. I continued on for a little while, unsure of exactly how to get where I wanted to go (there are a lot of one way streets in San Jose) except that I wanted to turn left. So I picked a street and turned, hoping to find another of those rare street signs, but found nothing until I looked up, high on one of the buildings and saw a faded sign for “Calle 5”; I looked on the map, and it was the street that Antonia and I had been shopping on the day before! I can’t express how happy I was to finally know where I was!! From there, it was only a few blocks to the hotel. I got in under the wire at 6:45 (the car place closed at 7), and stood my ground with the guy on the phone who wanted me to return the car the next morning. All concluded beautifully with a “caprese” salad (slices off of a block of mozzarella (not fresh) and tomato, with a big glob of pesto on top of one piece of lettuce. I’m glad they brought bread.), and I fell into bed.

Sunday morning I got up to catch the 7:30 bus to Managua, Nicaragua. Now, one would think that with my bag being lost, my camera stolen, and the events just recounted that I ought to have exhausted my bad luck, but one would be mistaken. I got out of the taxi at about 7:10, pushed through the crowded station to the ticket counter, and was abruptly told that the bus to Managua was full. I had decided to take the 7:30 bus instead of taking the 6:00 to give myself a little extra sleep, assuming that there would be no problem. The next bus with that company went at 12:30 and didn’t get to Grenada until 9:00 pm, an hour after the school I was making for closed, so clearly this was an issue. I went over to a phone to try an call the school to tell them that I would be arriving late, but then realized that no one would be there yet, as it was before 8:00 am. As I was making my way back to the ticket counter to ask about any cancellations for the 7:30 bus, and/or about buying a ticket for the 12:30, a man with a TicaBus jacket asked if he could help me (I must have looked confused and worried, which I was…). He told me to try the other bus company, TransNica, whose station was just around the corner, and which had a bus that would be leaving at 9:00! Que suerte! I tramped over there and bought a ticket with no problem, and then sat down with my Nicaragua guide book to read about local history. I didn’t get very far when a gringo by the name of Mike asked if this was my first time in Central America. We chatted for a while—he had been traveling for about 5 weeks already, and had nothing but great things to say about Granada, which cheered me up plenty. I also found out that he was an accountant (in fact, head of international accounting) for American Apparel—a dirty bus station was definitely not the place I would have expected to find an accountant!! It’s always fun to see what kind of people you’ll meet while traveling (especially when gringos stand out so much here). On the bus, I made another travel friend, Maria Jose, who is from Managua, and is learning English. We chatted about all sorts of things, and when we got to the border (which Mike quite accurately described as a zoo) we stood in the various lines together.

Here’s how they do it: we drive up to one building, and everyone gets out to stand in line to have their passports stamped. While in line you get accosted by various guys with large wads of money saying “Cambio? Cambio?” These guys will change your dollars or colones for cordobas with probably the worst exchange rate in either Costa Rica or Nicaragua. After getting your stamp, everyone piles back into the bus, paying the exit tax ($1 for Nicaraguans or Costa Ricans, $8 for me, which is still cheaper than leaving by plane, where you have to pay $26) to the driver, who also held on to all of the immigration forms and the passports. This last detail made me feel pretty uncomfortable (given that I had just driven for an entire day to retrieve the thing), but nobody else seemed too worried about it, so I just decided that it was all out of my hands (which it was…). Then we drove over to another building, where everyone got out of the bus again, and made a swarming surge for the luggage compartment. Mike told me that he knew a guy who had someone slip a few ounces of coke into his bag at a stop like this, so I guess it’s important to get into all of that jostling to try to keep an eye on your bag. Crazy! I checked all of the pockets and crannies of my bag—no drugs. Then we all stood in line with our bags, for inspection and to hand the customs form to the single customs worker—never mind that there are whole families of unemployed people hanging around the border; you would think that they could staff the place pretty completely… but there was just the one guy. When it got to my turn, the guy took my form, gave me (and my pale, pale skin) one slightly comic look, and gestured me back towards the bus, without even glancing at my bag. Done, and done. The TransNica worker putting our bags back into the bus was asking for destinations, and I found that the bus did indeed stop in Granada on it’s way to Managua—excellent news, as this would save me about an hour of travel time (1/2 hr past Granada on the highway, and then ½ hr back tracking in what they call a minibus—small and cramped). At about 5:00 I was dropped off in Granada—the only person to disembark—and I hailed a cab to take me to the school. Bus Fare: $21 Cab Fare: $1. Finally finished traveling: priceless.

At the school, I met some of the boys who were brought up there (I can’t remember their names right now, but I’m sure I’ll catch them again later) and the director, Roger. We spoke in English and Spanish for a while, waiting for the person from my homestay to come and pick me up—it felt a bit like he was testing me to see what level I was, but I’m not sure if he was or not. It seems that at the school they treat pretty much every conversations as a teaching/learning opportunity, so I’m sure that I’ll be able to improve my speaking abilities a ton while I’m here. After a little while, Katya (sp?), my homestay host, came to get me. She’s young, maybe late 20’s early 30’s, and she has a 10 year old son. I’m not sure where his father is, but he doesn’t live here. When we arrived at her house, I met her brother (whose name I forgot! Again, I’ll try to catch it tonight….I’m so bad with names!) who talked my ear off, but was very cheerful, and took me out to the local pizza joint (I had mini calzones with mozzarella and spinach, which were actually really good!) and drove me around pointing stuff out. He really is a talker. He’s (I think) got two kids who now live with their mother, and he’s a photographer. I had fun talking (mostly listening) to him, but I was relieved to get back home and go to bed.

This morning I was woken up at about 6:15 by the two little dogs who life in the little courtyard outside of my room. I like dogs, but man! These ones are shrill, and since the courtyard is enclosed, their barks echo. I hope that doesn’t happen every morning!!! It wasn’t so early, in the end, because I wanted to leave for the school a little early so that I could go to the ATM. I was also excited to get to walk around Granada a little. It’s a beautiful city; all the houses (and the churches!) are painted bright colors, and everyone sits out on their porches from the time they get home from work until they got to bed I think. It has a very strong sense of colonialism that has gone to seed—grand buildings with peeling paint squashed up against smaller, more modern buildings—but it is also pulsing with music and culture. I am really excited to get to know more about it, and to explore the streets and the numerous churches.

My classes this morning were good, but I’m pretty tired now. I like the system they have set up at my school—in my four hours, I have four different teachers, beginning with vocabulary, then grammar, then conversation, then exercises (basically working on pronunciation and anything that I find difficult). I liked all four of my teachers—Eric (?), Olga, Helen and Alejandro (??), and I got to talk a lot, although I had to repeat things like where I’m from and what I do, and what I want to study, and if I have siblings or a boyfriend four times. By the end of the four hours I couldn’t remember what I had told to whom. In terms of actual exercises, we did some pretty basic stuff, but that was great for the first day. I think it will round out to a nice combination of review and new material for me, along with a lot of practice speaking.

After classes I met three other students—I think there are only maybe 5 other people taking classes at the school, and one of the people I met said that there are more people this week than there were before. No one I met is staying as long as I am, so I’m sure I’ll get to meet some other people in future weeks. There’s so much to do around here! And it sounds like a lot of it is possible in the afternoons, or on weekend day trips. I think that later this week I’m going to try to do a zip line canopy tour, and maybe this weekend I’ll go climb one of the 6 active volcanoes they have here in Nicaragua—apparently you can climb all of them (if you have the time and want to travel around a lot).

Now that I’m settled, I hope that I’ll be able to write a bit more frequently, and won’t have to type out these tomes for you all to read! Hasta Luego!