Costs Rica: Border Informalities

"That was way too much," I thought. I had just agreed to pay a wizened (always wanted to use that word) old man 1000 colones to pedal my big pack the dusty kilometer from the Los Chiles bus stop to the dock on the Rio Frio. I hiked along with my day pack, getting just a quick glimpse of the town.

When we neared the river, he stopped and pointed at the immigration building. I mentally calmed myself about leaving my pack with a stranger, and joined the short and slow line to get stamped out of Costa Rica.












When I walked out, he waved me to the porch of the building next door. There I added my name and age to the manifest, and tucked the 7 of hearts into a pocket of my purse. The card was my ticket.







Once again I was waved on, this time to a man two porches down, who took $5 from me and gave me a receipt. I turned and looked for a yellow shirt and waving arms. This time my little old man pedaled onward to the bank of the river. When I asked about bathrooms he sent me back toward the buildings I had just left, patiently gesturing right, left, and no until I got it right.

Finally he hefted my bag out of his pedi-something (pedi-truck? pedi-cart) and I handed over the 1000 colones. A real bargain.

Costa Rica: Getting to the Border

"Los Chiles?" "Bus - Los Chiles?" I was having no luck finding the bus to Los Chiles, largely because there wasn't one. I had to change buses en route, and I forgot about that. Furthermore, my hostel's nice printed bus schedule was wrong, and I arrived at the right spot on the right side of the park just in time to watch my first bus turn the corner and accelerate away.

Finally someone directed me to the other side of the park, again with the wrong time. But some women in a shop assured me that if I got on the next bus and told the driver "Los Chiles", he would drop me off in the correct spot for the connecting bus. Then while I waited, a woman who had seen me asking questions sat down beside me, and in the simplest Spanish possible, explained to me how to get to Los Chiles. She even wrote me a note to show to the conductor and driver.












Then a driver from the tour company owned by my hostel stopped, and tried to explain it all in English. Then, amazingly, a waiter I knew showed up. It was his day off, he was going to visit his mother, and he was taking the same bus and making the same change as I was. I had a guide!

We talked most of the way, about San Jose and careers and living with someone compared to marriage, his former girlfriend, and the general state of things. When we were let off at the 'connection' intersection, he knew to stay on the same side of the road, in the shade of a bus shelter, until the bus could be seen in the distance. Only then did the waiting group of people cross to the sunny, bare verge where the bus would stop.