BACKPACKERS JOURNAL 11

LAST DAY IN COSTA RICA

The caribbean coast was as good as i expected it to be. Warm water, white beaches, palm trees and Nika Libre ( RUM AND COKE ) poured and drank like water. The weather remained perfect for my entire stay there. The sun was so strong that no ultra protection creams were good enough to protect you from it. It resulted in some serious sun burns. I felt sad to board the bus back to San Jose. I felt that i should stay in Puerto Viejo for a little bit longer. I couldn't do that because i have booked my ticket to Nicaragua months ago and rebooking it would not only be very problematic but also highly expensive. And I couldn't afford expensive.

I got onto a bus , found my sit and opened the window to see the beauty of the place for the last time. I noticed teenagers playing in water with something that supposed to be a ball but in fact was nothing else but a piece of material, rolled and taped into a shape of a ball. It reminded me of my childhood and the moments when as a kid me and my friends were doing similar things, not because of the lack of money but for the fun and satisfaction itself. I looked towards a shopping booth to see a young woman being undecided about her bracelet, showing it to someone who could have been her husband. I listened to songs played by restaurants nearby and locals humming to it inside the bus. It all made me feel very dejected. I closed the window, put the curtain down and turned my music on as i didn't want to see it anymore. That very moment i promised myself that I will never book trips in advance if not necessary.

The journey was good and quite fast. We made several stops to fill our bellies. I had a double sit for myself as nobody else sat down next to me. In other situations I'd probably look for reasons why but that day i fully enjoyed it. So did my legs.

When we got to a border of Costa Rica and Nicaragua we were asked to hand in our passports to a driver along with 13 dollars for an entrance fee. I do not have to explain that i did not want to hand in one thing in my backpack that was worth more than anything. After a short conversation with the driver who spoke English , I handed my passport and the money and watched him walking away with it, until he entered the Customs Office.

He returned very quickly so my mind didn't have enough time to create any frightening scenarios that would include loosing my passport. I was grateful for his promptness. He entered the bus and I noticed that I wasn't the only person freaking out about the service that the bus driver provided us with. Everyone grabbed onto their passports like a hungry dog , when given a bone.
I grabbed onto mine with similar subtleness and opened it to see my new stamp. The stamp of Nicaragua. Soon to become my favourite.