Getting there

Very fast and mumble-ish Spanish wakes me up. Am I there yet?

Oh wait, I am still to board the plane – I realize in a second. My head is spinning, I need coffee. However scruffy I appear, I decide to leave my backpack behind and go explore. It’s still NYC, I should be able to get anything even just before 5am.

When I get back, the only other guy that seems gringo* amongst all the “Hola! Pura Vida!**”-screaming Ticos smiles at me pointing to his own cup.

Good coffee, very strong.’

I smile back being too sleepy to respond and leave him with a slight nod. True, the coffee kicks in so powerfully, I don’t even finish it.

The plane is comfortable, and I wake up in five hours in the happiest country on the globe (as the billboards say). Feeling the somehow-familiar, humid, hot air that surrounds me with my first step out, I know. I exactly know I’m in the right place, right time and not much else matters at the very moment. Excitement pushes adrenaline through my veins and in a very springy, confident stride I get myself out on the streets.

Buenos dias, senor, puedo tener un taxi al estacion de buses?’

I ask with sparkly eyes, not worrying about my broken Spanish. ‘Claro que si’ he responds with a hopeful perspective of getting quite some money out of me and I end up glued to the car’s window. How beautiful!

After a taxi, a bus, another taxi, a ferry with a wonderful breeze, and yet another bus I stand in Cobano too excited to stay in one place, holding onto a telephone card in my shaky hands.

No answer. Damn it.

I’m not giving up, though. After four more tries, I suddenly hear blissful ‘Are you here?!’. Few minutes pass and my friend Heske and I are jumping around in a hug, screaming in the middle of the mini bus station. I’m here.

Fiona, May 15th ’11


**typical greeting amongst Costa Ricans meaning ‘pure life/just life’


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