Otra vez!
Trip Start
Aug 08, 2008
1
24
42
Trip End
Oct 12, 2008
Cahuita,
Costa Rica
Sunday, September 21, 2008
It was well worth doing again, though. The water was much calmer and clearer this time. The lack of waves meant I felt comfortable swimming over shallower reefs, and the bright sun and clear water meant I could see things that were much deeper. We were also the first boat out, so for about the first 45 minutes, we had the place to ourselves. I bought a disposable waterproof camera, and one of these days I'll develop, digitize, and post the pictures.
Coming up from a dive, I saw a bright blue sea creature out of the corner of my eye, tentacles waving. I maneuvered myself around as gently as possible, and came face-to-tits with my own bikini top. Oops. I snatched it to my chest and popped my head up to see if anyone else was around, but it was just me and the fish. Their mouths opened and closed as if to say, "what is that thing--an oyster?" I can't say flashing a reef full of Caribbean fish was high on my list of Things to Do Before I Die, but hey, maybe it should have been.
We stopped at the end of the peninsula for watermelon and pineapple, and I saw Joseph (our guide from last week) there, too. Our guide pointed out a tiny yellow snake way up in the treetops; it took me a solid minute to find it, even with his help. There was one girl who came out on the boat but didn't go in the water; she's a Costa Rica native who had never been to Cahuita, lives in Vienna now and speaks five languages. I'm always envious of people who have the guts and worldliness to just pack up and go live on the other side of the world. Then again, she couldn't bring herself to snorkel for fear the fish would nibble her toes. I guess courage is relative.
We got to and from the harbor by way of a rickety-looking motorcycle operated by a paunchy forty-something guy. I was afraid the bike wouldn't hold all three of us, or would skid out on the first turn on the gravel road, but somehow we made it. We might have walked just as fast, but once I stopped fearing for my shins, I was able to enjoy the ride.
Caitlyn and I put sunscreen on each other's backs, but she said she'd do her own lower back and then forgot, and I missed a spot on her upper back. I didn't get red anywhere, though my face must have burned because it stung like hell when the saltwater dried. Caitlyn, however, will have schlep her body bag home with a completely fried back. Sorry, girl!
We had a miserable late lunch at some Tipico Caribe place. I asked the waitress on Anna's behalf whether the spicy spaghetti had meat, and she said it didn't. But when she brought it out, ten minutes after Caitlyn had gotten her food and five minutes after I'd gotten mine, it was smothered in ground beef. To her credit, she did replace it with spaghetti in tomato sauce, which was so garlicky none of us could finish it. I think something on my plate didn't agree with me, either; I was a mess the next morning. Well, two out of three restaurants ain't bad.
Because Cahuita is so close to the border, there's a police checkpoint on the road back to San Jose; you need your stamped passport to show you entered the country legally. I knew this, and reminded Anna to bring hers, but she forgot. Sometimes they let white folks with U.S. or Canadian-government-issued IDs through, but Anna hadn't even brought her driver's license. Luckily, our awesome hostel hostess arranged for a local to drive her through the checkpoint (he knows the cops personally) so she could get on at the next stop. I was immensely relived when she made it, and even more so when there were still enough seats for all of us. After that, I was relaxed enough to put in my earbuds and tune out the world.
The adventure wasn't quite over yet, though. When we got to San Jose, there was the usual cluster of taxi drivers waiting to pick up passengers. I flagged one down and told him where we were going, and he tried to tell me the last bus for Puriscal had already left. It was 8:50, and I knew the last bus wasn't until 10; I told him so, in my broken Spanish. He called his friend over, who with some prompting confirmed that the last bus left at 8 on Sundays. But my bullshit meter was screaming, and I insisted, as politely as I could, that we wanted to go to the bus terminal anyway. He said he could drive us to Puriscal (it's an hour by bus; I don't even want to think about what that would have cost) or, there was a nice hotel nearby, very cheap... That did it. I've heard about these scams, where they tell you the hostel you're going to is all booked up, but they know of another one, very nice, very cheap, that will give them a nice commission for bringing you. I walked away and found another woman going to the same bus station, and a driver who would take us. We actually made it just in time for the nine o'clock bus, so it all worked out in the end. I'm just still fuming about those guys trying to take advantage of me.
Back home, I encounter people on a daily basis who speak English about as well as I speak Spanish--that is, well enough to understand and be understood, but not nearly well enough to pass for a native speaker. There's always a tendency when you're dealing with someone whose communication skills are limited, to assume his cognitive skills are limited as well. I make a conscious effort to challenge this assumption, but I'm surrounded by people who consciously embrace their knee-jerk bigotry. This is the first time I can remember being on the other side of the assumption.
Still, what I had to deal with was nothing compared to Caitlyn's trials after we hastily parted. Apparently, she left her purse in the taxi when she went to her hostel in San Jose, and the next passenger picked it up and took it to a brothel, where he used its contents to pay for various, er, services. Caitlyn, being ever resourceful, managed to track down her cabbie, who in turn tracked down at least her passport, though her camera was long gone.
You just can't blink in San Jose.
Comments
oyster top!
I laughed a lot over this story!
I'm also remembering your Little Mermaid costume with the shell bra from Fredrick's of Hollywood which we painted purple. That, too, would have flummoxed the fish!