Written 11/14/08
Since my first dentist appointment was for 10AM, I decided to get an 'early' go at it and left for the bus at 8, thinking I'd be in San Jose in an hour or so.
Foolish me. I know it takes twice as long to get anywhere here, and I was making bus connections. Hope springs eternal don't it?
I walked down the hill to the sheter, where several children were waiting for the bus. Gaily and with more confidence than I felt, I smiled and waved "Hola!, Buenos Dias". The boys flashed their killer eyes, the girls giggled and Victoria, a cute 3rd grader, asked if I was Senora Beverlys amiga. Duh. The only gringa on the hill, I guess I'm her friend.
I asked, carefully reading what I had printed out the night before, "Donde is el autobus a Grecia?"
The kids all giggled and waved and pointed me down the hill.
The bus came, the kids got on and I tried the "donde is" phrase again. The driver waved down the hill. Kids pointed down the hill.
Obviously this wasn't my stop.
The bus turned around, all faces looking at me to see if I was going to wait or go down the hill, so I went. Down the hill is a figurative phrase, as it's also up the hill then down then up several times to get to the Abast. San Jose.
On my walk I was joined by a neighbor, Juanna who also asked me if I was "Amiga de Beberly?" Si,yes I am her amiga. Juanna chattered all the way and we walked to the sort of bottom of the hill. About 10 minutes later, the bus came from another direction but 'Grecia' was in the window and I got on, paid my 290 colones (about 60 cents) and rode to Grecia feeling pretty smug. I can do this.
Shortly we arrived in Grecia and I got off on La Parada de Autobus and looked for the connection to San Jose.
I changed the end of my phrase.."Donde es el autobus (autoboos) a San Jose?" I must have been getting better as no one giggled-but the waving remained I followed and there they were-two busses marked, amazingly, "San Jose". I paid my 730 colones, took a seat and settled in for a nice ride.
Wrong.
They pack the busses full here....even though the bus leaves for San Jose every 15 minutes during busy times, everyone wants on the first one. If I had been able to get out, I would have gone to the next one, but really, it would have probably been just as bad when it left.
The windows didn't open and I had worn a long sleeved shirt with, apparently, insufficient deoderant for the cramped space, warm wet outside air and friendly people..actually most of the riders had insufficient deoderant...still more riders joined the cramped quarters at each stop down the road thru the end of town. The ladies were waving their hands at their faces, makeup was running everywhere and the air of musky bodies permeated the bus.
I understood, after all, I was most likely the only person who had had a hot shower that morning. Most Tico houses have only cold showers, as we had discovered on our 2006 trip here. Still, as the temperature rose and even more people got on we all were sweating up a storm and there was a definite funky smell to all of us.
We finally entered the Autopista- a road similar to a freeway but with bus stops at every collection of buildings. We stopped at every bus stop-some lucky costaricaense got off, more got on. I discovered we also stopped at the aeropuerto-something good to know-and a group of kids loaded surfboards and backpacks into the lower storage of the bus and joined us. Everyone backed up towards the end of the bus and I discovered that the blond blue-eyed surfer dudes were from Australia, having just gotten in from their personal flight of hell, lasting 47 hours! Their eyes were total pin points and I didn't have much question as to how they had been able to stay up so long.
We exchanged a couple of "Hi'ya mates" and their aroma added to the buses general smell, which amazingly, I had become used to in only one hour. Yes, faithful reader, one hour from Grecia to the Aeropuerta. 20 minutes by car, one hour by bus.
We continued down the Autopista towards San Jose and the road became more like a parking lot. All the traffic had been crowded over into the far right lanes, leaving the center lane in both directions clear. Perhaps, like my home town, Costa Rica road department had decided to do road repair during rush hour?
Of course there was a radio playing, bus drivers choice of station, so this was talk radio, and the speaker was going on about 'el Presidente de Chin' and I got the general idea that they had shut down the freeway for el Presidente, who had come to Costa Rica to donate lots of money for a futbol stadium, which endeared him to all Ticos.
Soon, a parada of cop cars, motorcycles, limos and asssorted photographers vehicles zoomed by the halted traffic. I figured we'd soon get on our way. And about 45 minutes later, we did, pulling into San Jose only two hours late. Bet everyone was happy they'd gotten on the early bus...I know I was. I took a chance and got off on Paseo Colon, the main drag, at the second stop. The map had shown me that the area I wanted was close to Parque La Sabana. Besides I wanted OFF that bus! I'd rather walk in the warm air than sweat in close companionship to my new mates. Exiting, I went to the side of a building, got out my map and oriented myself and took off briskly back the way the bus had come.
I soon saw the landmark I'd been looking for, made the correct decision about which way to walk and after a few errors in street counting (the cities, not mine) found la dentista Dr Marco, only an hour and a half late. No problema.
I spent a long time at the dentist, but more about that later.
Leave it to say that I didn't get out of San Jose until after 4:30PM. I'd walked back to Paseo Colon only to discover that the outbound busses didn't go down that street-so I wandered around looking for the bus home. It wasn't quite as easy as in Grecia. The bus does not head out of town on the main drag, as it does on the way in and different intra city busses leave from different street corners, none of them marked of course. After asking several people, one of the many rent-a-cops walked me to a corner and pointed back the way I had just walked saying "Dos callas, macha"- two streets, blondie-. After determining to find a beauty salon to get my hair dyed red again, I walked back to almost exactly where I had come from-turns out the dentist is only a block away from the bus out of town for me.
Again it was a long ride back into Grecia and we got there close to 6 PM. I'd looked carefully at the street designation for my bus up to Bevs ridge, but I didn't see it anywhere in the estacion. At the time, all I knew to ask for was Santa Rosa de Poas and Taller Alan, the auto repair shop whose property sits near the corner of Bev's driveway. I had no idea how to pronounce taller or Alan for that matter so I got shrugs from all the drivers. I did know that Bev's house was in the canton (county) of Poas and I finally found a bus that said Poas on it. So I got on, and in a while we drove off into the night.
I had nothing but the landmarks I'd learned during the day to guide me and it was a dark and stormy night at 6:30, an hour after sunset. We headed in the right direction at least and passed some of the places I recognized but again the bus was crowded and noisy and I was on an aisle seat, unable to check outside for the landmarks. We rode along stopping at every corner to let someone off. I had timed the trip into town that morning and figured it would help me decide where to get off, but I could tell that it was taking a lot longer to get to the sticks where Bev's house was. We careened around corners, passed cars turning left by riding in the ditch at the side and generally just had a fun time, similar to Mr Toads Wild Ride at Disneyland, as we went home.
Gradually the bus emptied and I went to a front seat and asked the driver, "Donde es Taller Alan?" He rolled his eyes at me and shrugged, shooting a glance at the cute young woman sitting on the jump seat by him.
"Taller Alan?" I said, again, and got the shrug again. Finally we made a sharp right turn, something I was expecting as there was such a turn to go up the road towards the ridge. I did the "Taller Alan" thing firmly and louder and the driver snickered at me, as did the girlfriend.
Finally I asked "Autobus to Santa Rosa de Poas?"
"Si Poas" the driver said, not exactly what I wanted to hear. But close.
Finally I thought I recognized the school Beverly volunteers at and decided to get off the bus. If, in fact, it was the school, then her driveway was a downhill walk of maybe a mile.
I went into the little store where the bus stopped and asked "Santa Rosa de Poas?" and the clerk gestured further on, the way the bus was heading.
Great, I was even closer if we hadn't made it to Santa Rosa de Poas yet. It must be just down the dark road with no sidewalks. I decided to call Bev and tell her I wasn't far and see if she would pick me up, having not brought my maglite so I could se where I was walking. She'd given me a phone card, as the phones here don't take any coins, just cards.
The card was expired. I couldn't call her. Oh, well. No matter. I just knew were I was and even though it was dark as the proverbial well diggers ass, it was still early-sort of-and I wasn't in San Jose but in a small rural town, and surely there was no threat to little old me was there? Of course not. Besides her driveway was just down the road a bit. I was sure of it.
So I started walking out of the light from the soda and the store and into the dark. Cars, trucks, motorcycles flashed by and I carefully-or quickly in some cases-stepped off the road and onto the dirt at the side. A bus went the other direction and slowed for me but I waved him on. Silly me. I know now that I should have gotten on that bus and gone back to Grecia, called Bev from there or just taken a cab to her house. But that first day I was determined to be independent and courageous. I was also very dumb, but didn't yet know it.
I continued walking into the dark, just knowing that the next corner would bring the lights of the auto shop.
I came to a small group of businesses. A bar, with a pay phone, a store and a Ferreteria. Since the bar was open I went in and asked if they sold phone cards. They didn't but the bartender kindly pointed out the pay phone for me.
I continued walking downhill into the dark. I passed families out for their post-parandial walks and visits. "Buenos noches" I cheerfully called. "Noches" they sometimes said back, turning to watch the gringa walk into the dark.
A motorcycle came by and paused by me. "Hola macha" said the helmeted voice. "Wanna rode baeebee?
"Gracias, no." I replied, quickening my pace then turning into the pulparea. "Quierro comprar tarjeta telefonica." I want to buy a phone card. Por favor.
"No senora, no telefonica tarjeta."
"por favor, ustedes telefonica?" I had totally forgotten anything I knew about spanish, but I wanted to use her telephone, if possible. Please, pretty please.
"No. No telefonica." A shrug. "ICE" (ee-say, the telephone/electrical and tunnel department of Costa Rica) A shrug-a you know what I mean-she hadn't ever had phone service in her store.
Seeing as 'Bay-bee' has left, I said 'Adios' and continued into the night.
Came to another bar, or cantina this time, an open garage turned into a soda and a gas station. No one sold phone cards. and when I asked "Necessito telephono?" I was pointed to the pay phone. His cell phone was right in front of him, but it wasn't offered. Ok, thats ok. I just have to walk a bit more and I'll find the place.
Back into the dark I went, around some corners almost being hit by a big truck who was taking up more than his fair amount of the road, and again came upon a group of small but open businesses.
The store did carry water, so I bought a bottle and drained it, and asked about phone cards or if I could use the owners phone. I was starting to panic. Where was the well known Tico helpfulness? Why didn't any of these stores cary phone cards and why wouldn't they let me make a call? Did I just look too competent? Inside I was beyond beginning to worry and into almost full panic, was sure I'd made a huge mistake by getting off the bus or even getting on the plane here.
I realized I could have just ridden the bus back into Grecia and at least been in a town, with some light, instead of wandering backroads at--holy cow--it was 8:30 now! I'd been walking for over an hour.
I was well and truly lost. No bus had passed my way for a while, no taxi or friendly family out for an after dinner walk. No one seemed to wonder why la gringa macha was wandering around their community-or if they did they opted not to try and help her. I was pretty amazed at this because I had read everywhere about the Tico being so friendly and all. Maybe I looked crazy?
I continued my trek, inquiring at bars, cantinas, abast., pulpareas and sodas for the auto shop or Norteamericano Beverlys casa or Santa Rosa de Poas for more miles and more hours.
The later it became, the fewer places were open. I had just about decided to stop at the next cantina and just get a beer or ten, pick up a friendly Tico guy and maybe have a place to spend the night, perhaps get a ride back into Grecia.
OK, OK I though. No need to get carried away. No need to pick some guy up just for a ride. Just keep walking and eventually I'd end up back in Grecia anyhow. It was only 6 kM from Bevs-however far a kM was.
I passed several little towns, a larger one and finally off in the distance I saw a...Christmas Tree? On top of a building? I staggered, sweating, into the store and asked in english-"Does anyone speak english?
"Sure-what do you need?" Santa asked. Not really Santa, he felt like it to me. He actually understood me and answered me in excellent english. The clock behind him read just going on 10 PM. I'd been walking for almost 4 hours and was close to totally losing it but I'd been saved by a Christmas Tree.
Juan Carlos got me a beer from the cooler, sat me down and dialed Beverleys number on his cell phone. She said "You're WHERE?"
"Coopevictoria", I said. " I thought I'd gotten off in Santa Rosa but I didn't. Please come get me. I've been walking for 4 hours totally lost."
The next day, we drove from where I thought I'd gotten off the bus to Coopevictoria-a distance of about 9 kM, how ever far that is in miles..I don't really want to know. What I do know is that Juan Carlos is my best friend forever and heres a picture to prove it.
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