Honestly, I don’t really remember much about the journey to Costa Rica. I think I had a layover somewhere, but I was so sleep deprived that I think I was just going through the motions until 11pm when I reached customs in San Jose. Unlike all the other times, I had a female customs agent who did not flirt with me and invite me home with them. I was rather relieved and thought “Yes, this trip is off to an awesome start”.
I walk through customs and see my favorite person in the world sitting by the luggage claim, sprawled out over all his bags and what not. He had a gigantic grin on as we walked toward each other, and I forgot about how tired I was. This is what I had been counting the days to.
Each time I leave the Aussie and return to him, there’s always an awkward hour where I don’t know if I can read him. It’s a brief time where I assess how much his travels have changed him. And each time I notice a change, and whether I like it or not each change helps him grow as a person. This time I could tell that he was starting to be less self-less and a caring a little more about his own sanity. Thank goodness. About time!
We hitched a ride to a hostel with this American guy who was only in CR for THREE DAYS! I thought my visit was short, but really! What are you going to do in three days? Whatever! The driver and his wife were lovely, both who were fairly fluent in English. The wife struggled a bit more, but between my garbled Spanish and her mixed English, she was able to give me a few good places to visit while in CR (bc as usual, the Aussie and I had made no plans what-so-ever). They dropped us off at the hostel, where the Aussie and I passed out fairly fast.
The next morning we went to get some breakfast, but everything was closed! I’m so used to waking up and everything being opened. We took that time to decide where we wanted to go, agreeing on a place called Tortuguero on the Caribbean side of CR. After grabbing some food, we walked all over the city trying to find the bus station. Typical male Aussie didn’t want to ask for directions, and we were too cheap to take a taxi, so we ended up lugging our crap around for about an hour until we finally reached the bus station, blisters and all. As we were sitting on the bus, waiting for it to depart, the Aussie’s face turned ghost white and he said “Oh my god I’m going to vomit”. He ran off the bus, leaving me there with all our belongings and the bus driver trying to leave. Using my minimal Spanish, meaning I said “Mi amigo.. “ and then doing a vomiting motion, I was able to prevent him from leaving. When the Aussie finally came back, he was determined to keep going but I slapped some sense into him and made the executive decision NOT to get on the bus. And it was a good thing, because he ended up being horribly sick the rest of the day. We found a different hostel within the city and the Aussie slept/barfed it off, while I ventured around San Jose on my own between check ins to make sure he was still breathing. San Jose is… well it’s really ugly and boring. I was sick of it after half a day, and decided to go back and try to snuggle the Aussie back to health. Eventually he began to feel better, enough that he could sit up and sip his powerade while I sipped on my beer.
The next morning the Aussie felt well enough to travel, so we decided to make things easier and make a trip out to Montezuma via a town called Jaco. The bus to Jaco wasn’t bad, and we found accommodation rather quickly, taking the Bible’s advice and staying at this place called Hotel Kangaroo (ironic). The place was okay… it had a pool and was close to the beach… but I think we both couldn’t wait to get out of there. The beach wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as the ones we went to in Panama, with black sand which to this day I still find bits of in my earwax, but the waves were perfect for rookie surfers. Had the Aussie felt better, I probably would have taken a go at it again, but he wasn’t exactly in surf instructor mode. Instead, we drank. Again. Because…. There was nothing else to do. Oh, and we had some rice and beans. And then I had an epiphany. I was already going to miss another day of classes because my flight wouldn't get me back in time to catch a bus to the Bubble, so I said "Fuck it. I'm staying two more days". Because the time I get with the Aussie is so much more fulfilling and pure awesome than school. So after waving off a few protests from the Aussie, I forked out $150 for a flight change... just as much as it would have been if I had changed my flight from CR to Guatemala. Gooooo me.
There is usually a speed boat that crosses the Gulf of Nicoya from Jaco to Montezuma, but because it was off season no one was heading that way. Instead, we had to grab ANOTHER bus north to a town called Puntarenas and catch a ferry across. When we arrived in Puntarenas it was, just guess-wait for it, RAINING. Not only raining, but the thunder and lightening were seemingly directly above our heads. We had no idea where the ferry was, and I was getting VERY cranky with the Aussie because I just wanted to take a taxi. Brilliant me wore my SAS/Bucknell flip flops which had begun to cut into my feet, leaving grand open sores and allowing dirt and sand to pore into them. And I kind of really had to pee. We got about three different sets of directions, and finally found the ferry with the help of some guy who was really trying to grease up the Aussie for some cash. But we both knew his game, because anyone who is overly nice usually wants something in CR, which has been ruined by tourism. It’s rather depressing to expect that, because the optimist in me wants to believe the best in people. But after continually being ripped off… a girl’s gotta learn.
The ferry ride was quite enjoyable, as we passed several small islands of interesting rock formations, with an overlapping mountainous backdrop. The rain had ceased for our short one hour journey to the other side, but the moment we stepped off the rain began to fall again. No problem, though, because we had to catch ANOTHER bus DOWN to Montezuma. The Bible warned us that the bus from the ferry to Montezuma was crowded, but I did not realize how crowded it was until we were squeezing our bodies into the isle. For about 45mins, I stood right up on the Aussie, which I’m sure he did not enjoy, and we laughed as this guy attempted to fall asleep but his head kept slipping. We thought he was trying to avoid the ginormous woman sitting next to him. For a minute at a time, we would count the head bobs, and see if he could beat his previous record. Hey, when you’re sardined in with a bunch of Ticos and a few obnoxious Brazilians speaking retarded Spanish (Portuguese), you’ve got to take entertainment where you can get it. Near the end of the bus ride, the fat woman noticed our little game and starting laughing, waking up the man who turned out to be her lover or something, because she nuzzled his head in her huge boobs (where his face remained for the rest of the bus ride).
The bus did some crazy turns down a dirt road, which to this day am still surprised a big bus like that could handle such crappy infrastructure. It pulled into a little scattered dark town, and we consulted the Bible. It described a “free loving, artsy” hostel run by some Italians, so we thought “okay, sounds good enough”. We approached a shack that seemed to be held together by like… glue.. and a bunch of stoned Italian guys. Montezuma is known for it’s weed culture, but let me tell you I only saw it once. Some rep.
We were put in “Room Sexi”, but the room was anything but sexy. The room was damp and dingy, the bed was horribly lumpy and falling through wooden slats, and oh yea, the fcking Brazilians followed us there. But, it was right on the beach, and a minute walk to the “city center”. By “city center”, I mean about two bars, two places to eat, some souvenir shops, and several internet cafes which all had crap internet. By this point, all we needed was beer, well… I needed it. The Aussie probably didn’t need it but drank it anyway.
So then we’re back at the hostel, and we’re asleep, but I have an off feeling in heart and turn toward the door and see some guy opening it, about to take the Aussie’s iPod and our wallets. I was like “What do you think you’re doing?”. And the guy goes “Door was open”. I’m sorry, does that give you the right to steal my stuff?! It was like the whole stealing my car thing all over again. But he didn’t get anything and I shooed him off.
At the same time, the Aussie was not looking so well. He was having trouble breathing, as if his lung wasn’t expanding all the way, and his chest muscles were hurting. And then the “oh shit” light bulb turns on in my head. I flip through the Bible to see where the nearest hospital is. It’s 2 hours away, and that was if I could find a boat to take us across the gulf. I also look through the diseases chapter to see what he might have. I name a few, malaria, dengue, the flu. He says no to all of them (but he did eventually get dengue a week or so later, which has an incubation period of up to 15 days), and I really begin to worry because I only know so much about medical emergencies.
I didn’t really sleep the rest of the night because I honestly feared that he would stop breathing in his sleep. That, and I wanted to be ready to punch that fcker in the face if he tried to break in again.
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