We were actually looking forward to the trip because Dale had planned for us to go to the beach resort town of San Juan del Sur, which is also one of the closest and easiest destination points out of Costa Rica's Central Valley. However, we were still inexperienced at traveling in Central America and all three of us still have lingering trauma from our initial move here, so there was definitely some anxiety. Remember the rule here is that the only consistency is inconsistency!
We arranged for our landlords son, Carlos, to come and stay at our house to take care of all our pets and keep an eye on things. He loves all the animals and obviously is comfortable with the house, so he was an great choice. Our friend Trixie kindly agreed to give us a ride to the bus stop, which we weren't even exactly sure on the location of. It turned out to be not in Grecia at all but where the road to Grecia meets with the main highway. She dropped us off a desolate spot on the side of the road and we waited for a blue bus to come, which eventually it did. As Dale confirmed with the driver that the bus was indeed going to Nicaragua, it was discovered that the driver did not have Jack's ticket information in his manifest. However, he let us on anyway, after much confused discussion, and we were on our way.
The bus seats were fairly comfortable and there was air-conditioning, thank goodness, although it was perhaps a bit too strong (think a movie theater in the summer). My sense of confusion and displacement was kicking in strongly. I still struggle with tolerating the high degree of uncertainty that goes with life here. The most horrific moment was when I finally staggered back to use the restroom. First of all, I had totally forgotten that when one travels in Central American, you MUST BRING YOUR OWN TOILET PAPER! I simply could not figure out how to do the lock on the door either. Mind you, we are hurtling up twisting mountains curves at this point and I am constantly being thrown back and forth. I finally was able to brace myself in a way that I could hold the door closed, hold on to wall and try to use the toilet, all the while very suspicious liquids are sloshing back and forth on the floor and in the sink. Grand, just grand. I lurched back to my seat, sending a hard look at Dale, and realized that I would rather forgo food and drink than face that bathroom again.
Hours and hours went by. We had some understanding that we were to stop for lunch, but that didn't seem to be happening. Finally, we came to the Costa Rican border, where we had to go briefly through an immigration checkpoint and then give our passports to the border agent. At least there was a bathroom there! Then back into the bus and on to the Nicaraguan check point, which required us to take all our luggage off the bus to be inspected. Once we set foot off the bus, we were besieged by native Nicaraguans selling food, drinks, shoes, watches, etc. I just numbly repeated "No, gracias." over and over again. Finally, we were reunited with our passports and climbed back onto the bus.
Our destination was Rivas, which was the first stop once inside Nicaragua. From there, we took a cab to San Juan del Sur. The countryside was dry and brown, worn out from the months of the dry season. We past many homes that looked like little more than a metal sheds hardly fit for any human. Claro TV had an impressive presence. The bright red satellite dishes were everywhere, standing out against the bleak landscape.
We checked in to our hotel, which was between a bed and breakfast and a hostel, called Casa Ariki (http://www.casaariki.com/). Then, finally it was time to get something to eat! We had received multiple recommendations for a place called El Timon (http://www.eltimonsanjuandelsur.com/en.html). We were all feeling the fatigue and strain of a long travel day, so it was nice to have a place to just head to. The restaurant was located right on the beach, with the high tide waves literally coming up underneath the deck floor. We all had a good meal and a nice walk on the beach afterward.
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Even though we had a very late lunch, I wasn't about to miss out on dinner. The owners at our motelrecommended two restaurants that were owned by an Italian chef. We decided to try Pizzeria San Juan La Playa, which had a wooden burning oven for cooking pizzas in. A few slices of pizza and a beer where just what was needed to erase the traumas of the day.
The next morning I was completely focused on checking out the town's American owned coffee shop and bookstore. I had not seen a bookstore since leaving the The States. Even better it was named El Gato Negro! While the food was good (mainly we were just relieved to get American style food and coffee) the staff was quite unfriendly to us. Despite the attempt to re-create a Starbucks type atmosphere, we did not feel welcome. I couldn't resist buying a couple of books, even at the inflated prices. Otherwise we didn't linger. In addition to the lack of hospitality, we were about twice as old as the average person there. The place was thick with North America kids apparently having a surfing vacation. Humpf!
The afternoon was spent swimming in the San Juan del Sur bay, which was safe from undertows and sneaker waves. Amazing fun for someone who grew up only knowing the Pacific Ocean from the Oregon coast!
But we still needed to see the real ocean, so we took a taxi to Playa Madera, which is the site of international surfing competitions. It was an absolutely beautiful beach and we took a long walk on it, beach combing and watching the sun go down. There wasn't much there in the way of restaurants (again, we were the old people) so we decided to head back into the town and go to the Italian guy's other restaurant and get some pasta. This time we got to meet the owner himself! His main advice to us concerned the superiority of Nicaragua over Costa Rica. Anyway, our meals were amazing. It seemed appropriate to top it all off with a trip to the town's new gelato shop, operated by yet another Italian expat (Superfrutto Gelateria).
The cabdriver that had driven us from Rivas showed up at our motel right on time to take us back to Rivas to catch the bus. Nice! While we waited for the bus to arrive, I walked to the nearby gas station to use the restroom and found it clean and well stocked with paper products! Miraculous! The trip home was getting off to a much better start.
Shortly, we reached the Costa Rican border for what was the actual point of this whole trip and the trickiest part: getting our new tourist Visas. It was a reverse of the trip in, with a short stop at the Nicaraguan border, followed by a stop at the Costa Rican border. Now the time consuming part was the Costa Rican border. They are quite a it pickier about who they let in! We waited for over 2 hours in line, winding our way like cattle through orange barricades. It was hot, humid and boring but no major injuries were sustained.
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| He's about had it at this point. |
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| Approach with caution... |
When it was finally our turn at the counter, the agent was more than ready for lunch and we were the last people in his line. He barely glanced at us or our paperwork, not even asking for proof of our exit trip in 90 more days. Our passports were stamped and with a wave of his hand, we were in!
The rest of the trip was far more enjoyable with our anxiety out of the way. Returning back here, we realized for the first time, that our house here really felt like home.
