9 hours have passed and so has the White Castle I (somewhat) beligerently devoured before getting on the flying silver turd. After re-packing my cary-on into my backpack in the lobby following customs, I walk out of the front door of the San Jose airport confident I am prepared for the journey ahead. That feeling lasts about 2 minutes. The invisible dam containing all of the taxi drivers has seemingly collapsed and I'm now drowning in a sea of red-shirt cabbies. Must have been my boyishly-good gringo looks that drew them to me...
$30 to San Jose? No thank you. I've planned for this. It's all right here in my notebook. The entire Costa Rican public bus schedule for where I'll be, except of course for the airport bus terminal which I completely forgot... No worries, that bus says "San Jose" on the front of it. It's at this point that I board the bus and hand the driver a random amount of money, to see if he asks for more or gives me change, that I quickly realize I have NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK I'M DOING! Luckily a nice girl around my age decides to sit next to myself and the 70 pound backpack I'm desparately trying to hold onto my lap. She immediately starts speaking English. Apparently It was easy for her to guess my nationality as blonde apparently isn't a natural hair color in these parts... I'm only 30 minutes into this trip and I already feel like a jackass for not knowing the language. Now, this story can go on for a while, but there's more to talk about. You'll have to wait until I get back. Short version is she helped me find the park I was looking for, and after being lost in the city for an hour I found my the friend of my couchsurfing host in a park a few miles away.
4 hours straight we walk through the streets of San Jose (70 pound pack still in tow). Every corner you round something new awaits, whether it be beautiful architecture, a street market, a museum, or one of the MANY and BEAUTIFUL public parks located throughout the city. Drum circles, skateboard ramps in the alleys, live bands and old couples dancing, EVERYWHERE! This city has at least 10x more life and energy to it than any city I've ever visited.
We meet up with my host who has just gotten out of work, walk another mile to the bus stop (since we missed the close one) and head back to his apartment where I can finally take a shower, eat (a wonderful homemade Brazilian dish I couldn't pronounce if I practiced all day), sample all the beers in his fridge (they were all the same variety Nicaraguan beer. Verdict is: It gets you drunk, and tastes excellent whilst doing so) finish up some work, and rest up.
Morning (12 hours later): Wake up, walk to the market, eggs, peppers, potatoes, payment? How much? Shit. REALLY should have learned more Spanish, but I'm practicing all the time now that I'm here. There is another CouchSurfer from Bolivia here. After a few games of chess and some terrible attempts at speaking spanish, she, my host, his friend, and I spend the rest of the day at an art festival about 45 minutes away by bus. (Speaking of which, the bus system here is INCREDIBLY cheap. You can take a bus an hour away and it will cost you $.50) By the amount of stares I get here I must be the only viking-esque gringo to ever set foot in this small town. After getting a churro filled with something (you can FILL churro's with things!?), a lot of dancing, and a lot more awkward stares from the locals, it's about time to head back.
So here I am. It's been a long day and I won't be able to post this until morning, so for now I'll 'shmerk this jerr' and rest-up while I contemplate the MAD LIB that is my itinerary. Tomorrow I head out for ___________ around ____ AM/PM because my host needs to leave for work at ___. I will be staying with/at ____________ and to get there I take the ________ bus located at _________. (still haven't decided. I have a feeling this "fly by the seat of your pants" routine is going to leave me stranded in the middle of BFE here soon...)
Hasta La Vista, Baby...
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