The First Night

I left home without a hitch. Mom gave me a ride to the airport, I caught my flights with all bags checked and everything I needed. My connection in Dallas was a bit close for comfort but it all worked out. I landed in San Jose right around 20:00 and it was dark. I have come to find that it gets darker earlier here because Costa Rica doesn’t do daylight savings. I collected my bags, looked over my guide-book again to see what bus I needed, made it through immigration and customs, and stepped outside.

I was immediately overwhelmed. Taxi drivers were shouting, police were telling me to get out of the way, and I couldn’t find the busses. It was humid and hot too. I asked a taxi driver where the busses to San Jose were? He told me they weren’t running. I asked him how much for a ride? He said 25,000 colones, or about $45.00. I told him I would do twenty. He agreed and I needed more cash. I was thinking that I should carry as little cash as possible so I hadn’t withdrawn enough in the airport.

The taxi driver’s name was Manuel.

There aren’t really addresses in Costa Rica. There are neighborhoods, barrios en espanol, and landmarks. The address I had was; Cedros enfrente Musmani. That translates roughly to the neighborhood; Cedros, and in front of the bread store. The house was a homestay for eight students in Costa Rica with the Fort Lewis Business program. I knew a few of them and coordinated through them to have a spot to crash and adjust in San Jose. I showed the taxi driver the address and he was befuddled. He wanted me to call the number I had for the house. He said there are hundreds of Musmanis in this city.

To make the call I needed a SIM card so he showed me to the “Soda” which is a little everything store. The cashier was Gabriella. Gabriella and Manuel exchanged some words, I paid the cash, we worked together to get the SIM card in. I put it in and it didn’t work. I thought I had un-locked the iphone while in the U.S. but that was not the case. So I didn’t have a phone. The whole phone process had taken nearly twenty minutes, during which Manuel figured out where to go.

After I quit diddling with the phone I shouldered my 80 liter pack which weighed 51 pounds and is more cumbersome than I like and walked to Manuel’s car. He must be a free-lancer or something because we had to cross the street and hop in his personal whip which was parked in the three dollar per day parking vs the three dollar per hour parking at the entrance. It didn’t start on the first try. As we pulled out of the parking lot we saw Louis, Manuel’s father. Louis knew where to go and gave Manuel directions. The drive commenced.

As we got into the forty minute drive through San Jose, Manuel put on some music, some good ol’ fashioned Tropical House. Here’s a link of the mix I’ve been bumping: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWIK1SHZn2w. We cruised and talked the best we could. His English was better than my Spanish and we made it work. He was twenty-six and I’m twenty-two. He surfs a bit. I told him I was going to Jaco, the main party beach. He laughed about how much debauchery goes on there. The conversation turned to partying. He would rather smoke some pot and chill than go out and get plastered. Then he pulled out a grinder and a pipe and had me load a bowl. He got me stoned in the first hour I was in Costa Rica. Jah blesses all I suppose.

When we got to the house I saw my boy Brent chillin on the front porch. I was going to be crashing in his room and he had been one of my main contacts while setting things up. The other main homie was Sarah, who actually responded to messages. They were both there and Brent had a cold beer waiting for me. I took a shower got dressed and a long night of partying commenced. It seems to be what happens when you’re in your early twenties and hanging out with peers in a foreign country. I paid for it the next day.