October Break Entry III - finally this is done

This is getting old. Can you tell? Does my writing seem a little less passionate? Work started up again today and I’m supposed to be planning for math and science and pre-meeting and social studies. I am distracted. I am sitting in my pajamas eating leftover soup and listening to the rain and wishing lots of different things. The soup, by the way, is delicious.

Phase IV: The border by ourselves (continued)

With my unhappy tummy I wandered into the back of the restaurant to find a restroom, but quickly wandered back out again. Sometimes it is just not that serious. I found Ji perched outside the restaurant doing a stupendous job of ignoring the man who had earlier tried to sell us half a carbon copy. We were directed to a little booth to pay a few dollars to exit the country. We were directed to a large gate and showed our passports to a man in a uniform. We trekked through mud and around semi trucks to find a line to stand in. We were directed to a different line to stand in. A new man tried to give us papers to fill out and asked only for a voluntary fee. We declined. We got our passports stamped and paid four dollars and received a hand written receipt of payment. We trekked through more mud and gave our passports to more uniforms and started to sweat. We were passed by an elderly man with a huge smile riding a small pink bicycle, his knees up next to his ears. We arrived at the Costa Rican border. We stood on another line. A man looked at my passport and super looked at Ji’s, but we were let through. We found the bus station, we bought tickets to San Jose, we waited again.

Phase V: The bus from the border to Chomes

I will skip the details but it was now 12:30 p.m. and we were in a line on the sidewalk waiting to get our bags checked by customs. The bag revision process consisted of a man glancing at us and then waving us on towards our bus. The plan – take the bus part way to San Jose, get off at Chomes, hop on the bus to Monteverde. Well, that is sort of what happened. After getting mocked by our bus driver (I told Ji, “I can’t tell if he’s joking or just an asshole” and Ji replied, “Then he’s an asshole”) we arrived in Chomes at 3:30 and asked at a restaurant where the bus to Monteverde stopped. We were directed across the street to find out that the bus had just passed but that another would pass at 4. At 4:30 we asked again, “What time does the bus to Monteverde come?” We got blank stares. Monteverde? There is no bus to Monteverde that passes by here after 3:30. Our options? Pay $10 for a cab to Sardinal where a bus may or may not pass at 5:00, or pay $60 for a cab to Monteverde. It is now 4:40 and Sardinal is 10 minutes away. We have to decide quickly.

Phase VI: Taxi from Chomes to Sardinal.
That is what we decided to do.

Phase VII: Bus from Sardinal to Monteverde
The bus to Monteverde did pass by the Sardinal gas station a few minutes after 5:00. We saved tons of money. We sat in the growing darkness in the back of the bus to Monteverde and talked about the economic history of South Korea and I was happy. As we stood on the side of the road, next to the telephone, in front of the gas station, waiting for the Monteverde bus, I had apologized again and again to Ji.
“I’m sorry that I don’t know about the bus schedule.”
“I’m sorry that we almost had to pay $60.”
“I’m sorry that this is so hectic and random and last minute.”
He laughed and hugged me and assured me that he was having a great time and that he loves to travel by “winging it”. I remembered a conversation we had weeks ago about where to stay in Nicaragua. I had started talking about hotels and he said, “Can we walk around and decide when we get there?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“That’s a little more my style.” So chill.

On the cozy bus to Monteverde I was experiencing this strange sensation that I was not prepared for. I was excited because…well….I was going home. We were so close. We were, for all intents and purposes, home. Until we saw the flashers on the road. Three cars, lined up ahead of us, not moving. Our bus stopped. In the darkness people craned their heads to see what was causing the delay. The little girl two rows ahead of us slid out of her mother’s lap and lay down in the aisle. A few minutes passed. Our bus drivers opened the door, stepped off of the bus, ran up the road and disappeared into the darkness. This had the potential to make me extrememly cranky. We were in our twelvth hour of travel, less than an hour away, and now we were stopped on a dark mountain road with an A.W.O.L. driver.

When the driver returned to the bus, closed the door and started backing down the dark, windy, muddy mountain road I did not feel better. I have been doing a lot of hard work on keeping my nerves and anxiety about travel under control. When we were groaning and rolling uphill I was feeling great. This was pushing my limits. Just for clarification, just to paint you a clear picture, just so you really understand, there was no back window to the bus and there were no streetlights to light the way. I don’t care how many mirrors the driver had, you can’t see what’s behind you in the dark.

Maybe I started to cover my ears and moan and rock back and forth because Ji said, “I have utmost faith in our driver.” I felt a little better.

Phase VIII: Taxi from Santa Elena to my house

I had never been happier to be in Santa Elena. Usually, for me, Santa Elena is a sweaty chore, but not on Wednesday night. I wanted to bend down and kiss the ground, but Ji was hungry again so instead we walked around looking for a restaurant. We ate casados, watched a bit of international soccer, hopped in a cab, went home and fell asleep.

The Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve

Thursday morning I somehow convinced Ji to get up early and go running with me. I believe Ji when he told me that he had a good time as he borded the bus to the airport on Sunday morning, but as I retell the story now, I wonder how that could have been possible. Running, showers, laundry, bacon and eggs and toast. I learned quickly that running the washing machine and the hot water heat and the coffee machine and the toaster and the electric stove will blow my circuit. Ji came out of the shower in a towel. “Um, I don’t think you have power.” He explained later with a laugh, “I had just gotten into the shower when the power went out. I thought, ‘I’m tough, I can do this.’ But I’m not that tough.” The exciting part is that now I know where my circuit breaker is and just about how far I can push my little cabin’s capacity. I also know how delicious local organic bacon and eggs can taste.

I don’t remember a lot about the next few days because I stopped being sick and we were not as sweaty or in danger of being ripped off or robbed. The reserve was fantastic. We stood and watched a family of four or five playful howler monkeys until our necks hurt. We saw hummingbirds and spiders and centipedes. We stood on the continental divide and looked out at mile after mile of protected cloud forest. The one time I had been before it had been covered in clouds and battered by winds. Thursday it was clear and calm and sunny. We walked over the hanging bridge and Ji did not cry or soil himself, which was more than we had hoped. We checked our email at the café where we got dinner only to find out that the world did not miss us and we did not mind. Ji seems to think that no one from work has even noticed that he had been gone and I had an email from my mom telling me to get offline and go hang out with Ji.

And Beyond

We slept in. I made Ji coffee. We cooked pasta and veggies and had Jonathan and Heather over for dinner and cards. We washed dishes. We watched No Reservations the New Jersey episode. We listed to Eryka Badu and Ji played me Common songs and we talked about his musical transformation after meeting Eryka and how he can’t sell albums anymore. Saturday morning we went to the farmer’s market and bought local veggies and ate fried cheese. We played Frisbee in the afternoon and then moaned and groaned around the kitchen that evening as we tried to use our tired bodies to make pineapple juice and adobo(the adobo was delicious, the pineapple juice would have been better if I had remembered to rinse the cutting board after chopping onions and before slicing pineapple).

And then, at 6:30 a.m. on Sunday, I said good-bye to Ji as he climbed aboard the bus to the airport. And I walked home trying not to cry because this is a small town and people know you and if they see you crying on the side of the road early in the morning they would probably stop and ask you what was wrong and if you tried to say “Nothing” they would know you were lying and if you tried to tell them the truth you would just start crying harder and probably get snot all over yourself or, much worse, them.

And now break is over and I have work to do.