 Costa Rica: Day Two |
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It's 7 a.m. With earplugs and some medication, I somehow slept in a few shifts last night. I definitely need more sleep, which I will now try to get. I do not know how I "roughed it" every summer of my life (or lots of them, anyway) at camp, surrounded by bugs and strange sounds and walking down a hill to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I guess then the strange noises were owls and crickets and armadillos walking like someone in flip-flops and not the sounds of traffic and mayhem and my own crazy thoughts running through my head. I hope these huge bites on my hip are nothing but harmless mosquito bites and nothing that will make me insane with dengue fever or be able to read people's minds or see the moon in close-up like Mala/Alma in A Trip to the Stars. (A really REALLY good book, by the way.) It's 1:25, and we're in the food court in the Mall San Pedro. I have no idea what anyone is talking about. I am eating a Quizno's sub. Now it's 1:50, and we're back at the apartment waiting for my sister to arrive. I'm of the strong opinion that any seemingly civilized dwelling loses all air of civility when its occupant is told that toilet tissue is to be disposed of in the wastebasket instead of flushed down the bowl. Can you say BIOHAZARD? I'm now aware that I'm staying in an apartment where people's #2 tissues are sitting in a non-covered trash can. Clearly the only option is not to poop at all, but sadly I seem to be the sole guest adopting this policy. 3:00. I'm having a moment of peace in the courtyard, still waiting for my sister. I sure hope that she gets here soon. I don't feel like I fit in very well, because I don't speak Spanish or know any of the people or things they are talking about. I have tried and they have tried but I feel like more than anything they are just tolerating my presence. I just spoke to my sweetie at band practice. Earlier we trekked to Escazú for lunch but all the restaurants were closed which is how we ended up at the mall. We first stumbled sweaty and dirty and thirsty into Cerutti in relief before bothering to look at the menu, which was full of expensive items such as octopus. So we left and cabbed it back to San Pedro. I can't even believe I resorted to Quizno's, but at least it filled me up. I don't want to venture into anything too risky when I can't bring myself to fathom what it would be like to have an upset stomach in these non-flushing times. I mean, I am well aware that everyone poops, but COME ON! 6:55. We are on the bus to Manuel Antonio. It's dark outside, and we're on an EXTREMELY windy road. I feel like I could potentially throw up in a projectile manner but am trying to be brave. There's also a very loud radio station playing. Thankfully my sister arrived -- yay! We took a cab to the Coca Cola bus station, apparently known as the pickpocket capital of the universe, which was one of the foulest locales where I have ever set foot. SPARE US FROM UNCEASING MARC ANTHONY, PLEASE, BUS DRIVER. I really hope the whole ride is not like this or I fear people really will start barfing out the windows. 11 p.m. That bus ride was not unlike riding the Manhattan Express roller coaster for 3.5 hours. It was very bam bam, reeling and rocking and feeling like the wheels were rolling over bowling balls that were exploding with firecrackers. It was a windy daredevil bus frenzy. We walked down what could have surely led to our deaths, a dark road with no sidewalk populated with God knows who, calling out to us from the darkness. But thankfully we finally made it to our beautiful beautiful hotel! It is glorious. The whole layout of the wildlife and trees and pool and rooms painted in bright colors with salamanders and triangles … it's all wonderful. There's a kitchenette and a sparkling bathroom with blue tile. LOVE IT. I love it. I can't wait to go to the glorious beach. Yay! We are finally here!
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