I had a delightful time, learned an awesome new game, Banagrams-which is both easily portable and fun. There were ten of us, although I just stayed for one night, they all, being in the Peace Corps for more time, have more vacation days, and were staying for three. They had gone shopping and cooked a nice New Year’s Eve dinner, and then we headed to the beach to have a bonfire. A few of us had even collected and stacked firewood earlier in the day, and covered it with banana leaves from the rain. Despite these preparations, the firewood was still so wet that all sorts of attempts were made, but nothing thicker than a pine needle would catch fire. So, we still swam in the delightfully warm water under the stars, and had a jovial time.
The sun came out on New Year’s Day, and it was because of this, well, and my decision- making skills, that my journey home became all sorts of educational. I was having quite a ball riding waves. I knew the last bus from Guapiles (transfer city) to Puerto Viejo (where I live) left at 18:30. On the way in, the trip had taken me three hours. I asked some others from nearby, it had taken them about three hours and fifteen minutes. I wasn’t sure when the buses left Cahuita to head back, but I imagined every hour on the hour, which was the schedule coming in. I was right. What was unfortunate was that I arrived at the bus station at 14:15. While walking to the bus stop I had thought that I could head up to the main road and try to catch the bus, but wasn’t sure if I knew exactly the one to catch, and if it would stop to pick me up. So, I had decided to walk to the station. At 14:15, realizing I would have to wait until three for the next bus, I now cursed my decision not to try to catch the two o’clock bus on the road. Well, usually happens when one doesn’t plan ahead, the trip from Cahuita at 15:00 to get to Guapiles by 18:30 didn’t take three hours. Nor three hours and fifteen minutes. Instead, my bus pulled in at 18:45. And unlike Costa Ricans arriving to meetings, the buses here tend to leave on time.
So, having missed the last bus, I called my host family-no answer. I called my host sister’s cell phone. They were in the region, but were out in the countryside because my host mom’s uncle had died, so they were with the family and were planning on staying the night. I tried another volunteer’s host family, but they were out at a barbecue. While making these calls, and finding out approximate fares from the taxi drivers, another option (which I didn’t then realize) of taking a bus to a stop, then taking the last bus coming from another direction to Puerto Viejo, had passed. Oh, I of course, didn’t have my debit card, because we had been warned a million times not to carry them-as pickpocketing in Costa Rica is really bad, and robberies where they drive you to an ATM and then make you empty your account at gunpoint are also common. I was only gone for one night, and had brought adequate cash. And, of course, my “adequate” money wouldn’t pay for a taxi all the way home.
After some more chats with my host mom and sister, I decided I would just take a taxi home, get my debit card, take the taxi up to the bank, and the problem would be solved. So this is what I explained to the taxi driver, he agreed (why wouldn’t he, it was a bunch of sweet useless driving he got to charge) and we were on our way. Well, on the way my host sister called and said that they could pick me up at the truck stop at the highway intersection later that night. So, I just took the taxi that far. I didn’t have enough money to pay the fare (which my host dad later thought was too high), so I just gave him all I had and he called it square. I sheepishly explained to the waitress at the rest stop that I didn’t have any money, but was waiting for my family to pick me up, and she kindly let me sit and read. Well, about 45 minutes after waiting/reading, my host mom called, and she was worried about me waiting, and was unsure how long they would be there, so she had arranged for a distant cousin, who was also a taxi driver to pick me up, and I could pay him tomorrow. (Side note: my host mom has lots of distant cousins in the area.) So, he came half an hour later, as arranged, took me home, and I was able to hit the hay. He came by the next day, and the trustworthy fellow I am, I paid him. It’s quite telling how just fifteen minutes can turn a frugal and fun trip into one costing me all sorts of money-well, all sorts of money on a Peace Corps salary. Then again, those fifteen minutes of body surfing were pretty fun. And, as the economic/efficiency argument goes, if you’ve never missed a flight, it probably means you’re spending too much time waiting in airports.
A few years back, when I was traveling abroad, a lack of preparation on my part ended up costing me a lot in overdraft and international ATM fees. I remember afterward telling my dad that this would never happen again, I had definitely learned my lesson. He remarked that he had his doubts. Looks like, yet again, old Pops was right.
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