Costa Rica - Day 3 - The Return Journey

10/12/15, “The Return Journey”

San Jose, Costa Rica

Mission accomplished.  I said it.  “Central America Complete.”  I’d done it all.  16 World Heritage Sites and seven National Legislative Assemblies.  Has anyone else ever done that?  I’m not so sure.  It’s an odd combination of sites, and many are not easily accessible.  I’m sure plenty of politicians have been to all seven National Legislative Assemblies, and maybe a few tourists or conservationists have done all 16 WHSs, but who would have ever done both?  Perhaps just me.

It took me 2 years and a day, four trips in all.  First came Panama, two days of intensive driving, a chartered boat on Day 2 to Isla Coiba, Day 3 the scary drive from the fort to the canal where I almost ran out of gas and then back to Panama City for the old city and the legislative assembly.  That was relatively easy.  CA-4 was the hardest.  Six days of even more intensive driving with Fernando, racing to Tikal before it closed, finding the Biosphere Reserve almost by chance, sneaking into the Ruins of Leon Viejo, and having to find each of the four legislative assemblies as we dealt with harassment by the police the entire trip.  We did it, though.

Belize was the easiest one.  I did a boat tour out to the barrier reef and then took a taxi to the capital.  Then came this trip, and my reader will recall the adventures of the past three days.  As soon as I finish this cigar, shower, pack, change into my travelling clothes, and head to the airport.  There is not much to say since I closed last night, but I would be remiss if I didn’t write this entry.  “Pura Vida” is the unofficial motto of Costa Rica, and it is appropriate to describe what I’m feeling now.  No other phrase would suffice.

After I closed last night, and while I was writing, I was accosted by the usual gaggle of denziens.  One woman appeared to be trying to sell me some candy.  I had no interest and waved her away.  She stood there with a pouting face, trying to elicit my pity.  I had none for her.  She literally stood there until I waved her away for a second time.  Another guy sat down next to me and offered me some vodka, greeting me with “Pura Vida.”  I turned him down.  Someone else told me I was missing the world by having my head in my laptop.  Another guy warned me that someone would rob me of laptop.  The laptop was worthless, the data on it priceless.

I made my way back to the hotel and went right to sleep.  In the morning, breakfast, the exact same thing three days in a row now, was even more disappointing.  I got ready to head across the street to the Legislative Assembly.  Once I got there, I chose the best spot for a picture.  I took my ceremonial picture and announced, “Mainland Costa Rica Complete.”  I hesitated.  I wasn’t ready for it.  I could not fight back the tears.  Then I said it.  “Central America Complete.”  I lit up my Churchill, took lots more pictures, and then sat down across from the Legislative Assembly, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can upload some photos.

Juan Santamaría International Airport, Costa Rica (SJO)

Juan Santamaría is the national hero of Costa Rico.  Philip Goldson a national hero of Belize, Benito Juarez for Mexico, Monseñor Romero for El Salvador.  Why then do we have an international airport named Dulles in our capital?  I don’t even know who Dulles was?  I suppose that the capital city itself is named after our national hero, but where is Thomas Jefferson International Airport?  Where is James Madison International Airport?  Jefferson is the capital of Missouri, Madison Wisconsin, so it seems to be that in the United States, we name cities after our heroes, while the countries in the North American tropics name their capital airports after their national hero or the first prime minister/president.

Here I am at the one named after Costa Rica’s national hero, and I have about 20 minutes to write my triumphant airport entry.  Any more time, and I risk missing my flight.  I will focus more on the reflections once I get to IAH (or maybe en route to EWR), but this is the triumphant one.  I did it all.  Despite the treacherous driving, everything went perfectly.  Other than breakfast, I didn’t have a single bad meal the whole trip.  I saw everything I wanted to see, and I didn’t get lost once.  I was at the hotel by 9 PM each night, asleep by 1 AM.  It was a perfectly executed trip.  Getting to come home early is a bonus.  Yes, reader, I want to go home early, not just for work reasons.  I came here with a mission, and, once I accomplished the mission this morning, there was no point to hang around in San Jose for another day.  It was time to go home.

After I closed and uploaded my photos, I walked back through the souvenir market, getting another bag of coffee for me and some small souvenirs for my favorite friend and the two coworkers who sit behind me.  I ditched the cigar outside the hotel and got ready as quickly as possible.  I was at the car rental return by 10:30 PM, slightly behind schedule.  It was 10:50 PM by the time I got to the airport, less slightly behind schedule.  I checked in and headed outside, where I lit up my Partagas, found a seat, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can start making my way to security.

Actually, I still have a few minutes to do the reflective part.  Costa Rica is unlike any other country I’ve been to in Latin Central America.  For starters, it is nowhere near as militarized as the other countries.  Also, the police presence is much less.  I only passed one police checkpoint, and I was waved right through, unlike my adventures in Panama.  The driving is far more aggressive, even the pedestrians are more aggressive.  The roads were awful, but that was to be expected.  Just like the rest of the North American tropics, everything is slow and takes forever.  They have no sense of urgency, perhaps because time is their least precious commodity.  I suppose that is true of any poor country, that time matters least to them, when they are struggling for food.  In America, time is money, and our time is far more money than their money.  The landscapes look much the same as anywhere else in the region, so that was comforting.  In short, there was a lot different about Costa Rica, but a lot the same, too. On that note, I’ll close.

Aboard UA 1933, En route IAH-EWR

The last time I was at Bush Intercontinental, I was morose and depressed, coming off a successful trip to Central America, questioning the meaning of friendship and the claims I laid to who was truly my best friend.  Remove the words morose and depressed, and that was exactly what happened this trip.  Nine months ago, when I went to Belize, I was building a fantasy world, a house of cards that could fall with the slightest breath.  Now, I have rebuilt my life.  Now, I am focusing on me.

Gone is the euphoria from this morning.  I am simply ready to go home.  I want to be in my own bed with my beat up sheets and pillows in my cramped apartment.  I want to wake up in the city that never sleeps.  Oops, wait.  Tomorrow will be a fun day, maybe even more fun than any day from this trip.  I’m going to pick up the Aladdin Blu-ray, which has been years overdue, finally coming out tomorrow, and try to get it signed by most of the cast.  If I get in to work early enough, I should be able to get away with taking an extended lunch break and go out with my friend after the signing.  After work, my friends and I will watch Aladdin, followed by the Democratic Presidential debate.  Reader, if you think Aladdin is a fairy tale, you’ve obviously never heard Hilary Clinton speak.  Along with some cigars and Costa Rican rum, it’ll be a fun night.

I enjoy my travel, but I rarely have fun.  It is about getting away from everything.  The beach does nothing for me.  Long drives and mountains do.  I have loved my time in Central America, and, unless they add a new WHS in Central America, it will be a very long time before I return.  I need to return to Jamaica to get the WHS there, and I need to go to Nassau.  I also need to do Hispaniola.  Other than that, all of my North American travel for the next two years will be in US, Canada, and Mexico.  I will be doing extensive travels to Mexico over the next two years.  I think I need six more trips to that end.  Actually, I think I may have more trips lined up for Mexico than any other country, including the US.  Yeah, that appears to be the case.

I will miss Central America, and the places I still have remaining in the West Indies just aren’t the same, as the Greater Antilles lack the charm of the Lesser Antilles.  Bahamas, I literally have no idea what to expect.  Like, who goes to the Bahamas just to take a picture at Parliament?  Literally, that’s what I’ll be doing.  Flying into Nassau, doing my Official business, taking a picture at Parliament, getting a flag pin, writing an entry, and flying back.  No beach.  People will thinking I’m crazy.  “Where are you going this weekend?”  “The Bahamas.”  “Oh, going to spend some time on the beach?”  “No, just want to take a picture at Parliament and buy a flag pin.”  “…”

Hispaniola will be slightly more interesting, and I’d love to try to do the whole island as a three-day weekend, but it is tough to do it that way, as transportation between Santo Domingo and Port-au-Prince isn’t the best, and the flights aren’t the most convenient, either.  Either way, I’ll see it done.

Alright, enough of this, I’ve realized that I never properly reflected on the Summer of 2015 travel, and it seems a bit late to do it, now that it’s October, and the leaves are changing color.  I typically divide my travel into summer and winter, and draw the line right around now.  I can probably count this as the last summer trip.  However, the summer reflective entry is something special.  Wildest Dreams was probably the last trip that would have qualified as a summer trip, so I kind of missed my chance there.  Needless to say, it was an amazing summer of travel.  From Memorial Day weekend to my birthday weekend, I visited three continents and 9 countries, which was a little stronger than last year’s count of three continents and 6 countries.  Nothing, of course, can compare to 2013, though.

Like 2014, most of trips this year were with family and friends, or a tour guide who is a friend to me now.  In 2014, only the Memorial Day, Labor Day, and my Birthday trips were alone.  This year, was the same, though Enrique is almost a friend now, so I wasn’t alone on the Labor Day trip, though I was alone for a large part of the big summer trip.  Oh, that’s one for the record books.  It wasn’t quite as amazing as Alaska, but it was up there.  It was a trip a decade in the making.  I can no longer consider it to be summer, by any definition, as I can’t even wear shorts in NYC at night anymore.

Oh, right, my flip flops need to be retired, I think.  They are almost destroyed, and they have been to more countries than most people I know have been to.  I don’t know the exact count, but I’d expect they’d been to over 30 countries, and I’ve worn them in at least 20, I think.  Reader, pretty much any time you’ve seen a picture of me in a t-shirt, I was wearing those flip flops.  I almost left them at my hotel in San Jose, but I’d been through too much with them for them to suffer such a fate, even if I never wear them again.  Alright, I’m rambling.

After I closed at SJO, I headed through emigration security.  Each had a huge line, but, as a premier member, I was able to skip the entire line.  That was nice.  I soon found myself in a Costa Rican chocolate and coffee shop.  Needless to say, I went overboard.  Also, needless to say, none of it will go to waste, not one bean of coffee or piece of chocolate.  I then headed to duty-free, where I picked out two bottles of Costa Rican rum.  There was still an hour before my flight.  The clerk told me it was too late to send the items to the gate.  I was outraged.  He then told me there was another location closer to my gate that might be able to accommodate me.  They did.  They also put the liquor in a sealed bag, which I wasn’t sure would be allowed through security at IAH.  I also picked up a few more cigars.

There was a bar next to the gate, so I got a rum flight, three glasses of highly aged rum.  They were probably supposed to be half pours.  Instead, I wound up getting three full glasses of rum.  I was utterly and royally toasted by the time I got on the plane, and I practically passed out right away.  I got a chicken wrap and chips for eats.  When we landed at Houston, I cleared border control and then headed to security.  It turned out the bag would have been okay, except there was a small rip in it, and they wouldn’t let through with it.  I had to go to the United check-in gate, and they had these special liquor boxes that they sell you.  It was pricy but much less than the price of the rum.

Oh, did I mention that I received a call from Citibank as I landed?  They tried to run through some charges, but I told them I didn’t recognize the name of the vendor.  They said I could review it and call them back.  Anyway, these boxes were cushioned and specially designed to sell to people who wanted to check bottles of alcohol.  She spent some time packaging the box, and I handed her my debit card to pay.  It was declined.

I called the bank, which was quite a process, since they couldn’t reach a security specialist, and I wanted to get off the phone, as I had received a text message I wanted to answer.  The United agent told me they would waive the fee since I was a premier member and didn’t want me to have to bother with the whole phone process.  That was nice of them.  I immediately hung up with Citibank and responded to the text.

That was when everything started to go to hell.  It turned out that my friend had sent me some messages while I was en route, but I never got them.  She was very understanding and helped me test to see if my messages were up and working again, as we had some trouble exchanging messages even after I landed, but I soon got the feeling that I was testing her patience.  Add to that, I had sent two other people messages right before I took off, and I didn’t get responses from either of them.  If her messages didn’t come through, why would theirs?  But, was I going to message each of them asking if they responded?  If they did respond, they would tell me, but, if they hadn’t, it would really annoy them.  No one wants to get the “Did you get my text?” message if they got the message.

We were soon boarding, and I just wanted to go to sleep.  I just wanted to get home.  I couldn’t really sleep, but I noticed something unusual out of my eyes when I opened them.  The very hot (no other word works) woman who was sitting next to me had all sorts of weird emails on her screen, filled with words like “goddess,” “mistress,” and “dungeon.”  Reader, I soon learned she was some kind of BDSM mistress.  I am writing with a very small zoom now so that she can’t do what I have been doing to her (read my screen).  I had no idea what to think.

She had emails from clients and potential clients, and the way she was responding, it was so obviously fake.  I could tell how she agonized over each phrasing, trying to make it seem natural, when it wasn’t.  Her clients lived in places such as Phoenix, LA, SF, and NYC.  She even did sessions in Europe.  This was crazy.  Was I really seeing this?  Her price was outrageous.  People were lining up to pay it.  She had a full calendar schedule.  I kept reading things about people wanting to be locked in her basement in Arizona.  I was just so shocked.  She listed a website in her email signature.  I haven’t checked it out, but it’s mistresstangent.com.

Anyway, I eventually was able to stop reading her emails, for the most part, and I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish.  I will also close out this trip.  It’s been amazing, but I’m glad to be getting home, and I’ll be even gladder to get a bagel or something.  I’m starving.  Next stop: actually, I’m not entirely sure.  Probably Atlanta for the Ayn Rand Conference, if I can get the scholarship and the early departure on the Friday.  Otherwise, Vegas for my friend’s bachelor party.