Costa Rica Day 1(In which I have the frightening realization that I know nothing)

Day 1 (In which I have the frightening realization that I know nothing)

I woke up to Nancy asking me, “What time did you set your alarm for?”
My response “4:00 a.m.”
Her response, “It’s 4:45” opened the floodgates of adrenaline with the realization that I was running 45 minutes later than I wanted to in order to be at the airport on time to leave for Costa Rica. I dressed quickly and woke the boy up. We had the foresight to stop by Donut World the night before and so the Apple Fritter I had for breakfast mellowed me out and helped me think clearly.

If you are the first person to arrive at Piedmont Triad “International” airport in the morning, it is generally expected that you find the key under the planter outside, turn on all the lights and warm up the X-ray machines.

The flight to Miami was un-eventful. I really wanted a Cuban sandwich while we waited for our second plane, but Nancy had carefully budgeted for the week and did not want to have to skip two meals in the future to pay for one “airport” sandwich.

The second plane ride featured the first magic moment when I realized how very far we were going. After about 45 minutes heading south over the ocean, I looked down at the coastline and realized that I was looking at Cuba. It was a great moment to see something which I had heard about all of my life…something mysterious and foreign..right underneath me. It looked just like any other country side, but still it was the first real moment where my brain started thinking about my surroundings in a different way.

I would like to make a disclaimer here. These writings are only my perception of a small part of Costa Rica. I don’t claim to know everything about the whole country, I only report my experience, and my experience involves a lot of the “Gee-Whiz-We-aren’t-in-Kansas-anymore” moments that I expect a lot of people travelling abroad for the first time have.

We touched down in Costa Rica and my senses were overloaded. Everything I looked at, heard, touched, and smelled, even the most mundane things like the landscaping at the airport was drawn in deeply. We disembarked and walked into a large warehouse to get our passports stamped and claim our luggage….not at all the giant hassle I expected (That would come one week later in Miami.)

The mini-bus took us to “Avis” car rental where a friendly man who spoke English very well showed us the sparkling Kia we had rented. There was an ominous warning on the Avis desk about the “Flat Tire” scam I mentioned in the last blog. I was prepared. I had the rental agent show me where the jack was, and I carefully inspected all four tires.

We were on our way.

We took a right towards the relatively large city of Liberia. We passed large areas of farmland, schools with uniformed children playing soccer in the yards, and small industrial businesses. It wasn’t just the barbed wire around the fence of every building we saw that made me the most nervous. It was the realization that I can only read about 2/3 of the street signs For example, the frequently seen “Interseccion Adelante” had me worried. I knew that “interseccion” meant “intersection” but it took me a while to realize that “adelante” did not mean “dangerous”, “busy”, or “flammable” but simply “ahead”.

The other surprisingly disorienting thing about driving was that all speed limits are in kilometers per hour, which is fine on paper, but in reality, if I see a sign that says “40 kph”, my brain automatically goes into a panic because it knows what “40 mph” should feel like, and we are no where near that fast. Throw in the occasional “25 kph cuando scholars presente” and I am panicking even more because there are almost always kids out on bikes around schools and I know how going even a few miles over the speed limit in a US school zone results in a hefty fine.

While I am going slowly and carefully, Tico drivers are whizzing past.

We finally arrive at a shopping center with a bank and a grocery store. We go into the bank to change money and are stopped and asked for our passports. I think “This is a little odd since really all we are doing is getting change.” I am also searched with a metal detector. At this point, the exhaustion and culture shock take over and I start to panic.

Right or wrong, if I am in a part of town where everything is surrounded by barbed wire, nobody speaks English, and I am searched with a metal detector when I walk into a bank, I know it is time to move on, and I had to be very deliberate about not losing my cool. We changed $200 into 100,000 colones in bills of 10,000 each.

I was now walking around with money that I could not quickly tell you what it was worth. It was at this point that I found a new level of respect for anyone that does not speak English coming to US for the first time.

We walked to the grocery store which had a small ice cream shop in the back. I bought an ice cream for Isaac, a small ham biscuit for myself, and a custard pastry. I tried to pay with a 10,000 colones note and the woman looked at me like I was crazy and asked if I had anything smaller. Just then a very thin woman walked over, patted Isaac on the head and asked me for money. I smiled politely and sat down. The cashier managed to get change for me and we ate, the beggar staring at us the entire time. I really felt bad about not giving her anything, but at the same time, I could not quickly process how much anything was, and more importantly I could not open my wallet with out showing a lot more money. We ate quickly and went back to the car.

We were all tired and tense. I checked the tires again before we left and drove to the coast. Getting out into the country side helped calm everyone down a lot. We even saw a huge iguana basking on the road when we came around a corner. We found the hotel and tried to check in. We were early. We wandered around the facility. The view was incredible. They had about six pools set into different levels connected by waterfalls overlooking the bay including an “infinity pool” where it looks like the water touches the horizon and a bar you could swim up to.

We grabbed a quick bite to eat at the restaurant (It is a universal truth that all hotel restaurants are overpriced with mediocre food. I found it oddly reassuring to find that this was the case at Condovac as well.)

Another cultural/technological difference in Costa Rica is that toilet paper is not flushed, but placed in a garbage can next to the toilet. The less said about that, the better.

We wandered down to the beach and we looked at the boats in the bay. We walked along the black, volcanic sand beach until we saw a guy in a ladder poking at coconuts with a stick. A young man about 18 years old grabbed one, cut the top off, put a straw in it and offered it to Isaac. The young man introduced himself and told us that if there was anything we needed, Jet Skis, tours of town, snorkeling, that we should come talk to him and he would take care of us. It was clear that he did not work for the hotel and was just trying to make a buck, but he was very friendly and when I politely declined, he stayed and talked for a while and reminded me that he would be down on the beach if we thought of anything.

After several hours, our room was ready. We checked into a very nice, air conditioned, two room suite with a kitchen, and fell asleep around nine o’clock local time.

Strength and Honor
Big Matt