Those were the last words that Sr. Aroyo said to me as he dropped me at the bus stop at 615a. He was right, but a good day none the less.
LAST NIGHT
I get on the bus from Cahuite back to where I am staying. I say very clearly where I am heading and about to tell the driver that I am idiot and don’t know where I going and could he please please please stop for me. Before I get a chance to rev my spanish monolog up I realize it is the drive from last night. He tells me, “We won’t miss it tonight and please sit here” Pointing to the first seat on the bus. More angels take care of me.
RIDE TO THE BUS
I was up at 530a to take a shower, have bit of fresh fruit, hang out with the baby sloths who were getting freash air and waiting to be fed (two of them climbed up the side and nuzzled my hand with their noses), and pay the bill. Sr. Aroyo gave me a ride to the bus stop. He was telling me about his time in the states. His first wife. His drive across contry. The four months he spent in San Fansico in 1968. And we drive right past the stop. Quick turn around. A quick hand shake. An admonishment for taking publi transportation concidering my journy. “You have a long day ahead of you.”
THE FIRST BUS
A four hour ride back to San Jose was quite. A early morning crowd, half full bus, open windows, the ocean to the left. I had my ipod in my pocket, but I didn’t take it out. My book was on my lap, but it was never opened. Just rode, and looked, and thought, and looked, and thought some more. Hoped a cab cross town (because there are 9 million bus stations in San Jose, each with its own destination in the country). Bought a ticket at 1030a. The guy selling the tickets said, “You know the bus doesn’t leave until 230p?” Claro!
THE BUS STATION
Very small. One food stand. One restraunt. I had a plate of chicken in white sause, beans, plantains, a coffee (no sugar), and a beer for $4. Very good. On the TV as american tv dubbed. I am always amazed at the shows they dub in to other langauges.
Monk (Season 1 or 2): God choice
Time Travelers???: Not the name of the show. It was a show from the eights where the lead had this little handheld thing that told him where he was and if history was turning out right. It never was, and he had to fix what was happening so things would work out. For some reason he was traveling with a kid. I remember the show, but also remember the lead of the show died in a freak accedent. He was on the set shooting a gun with blanks in it. At the end of the shot he was joking around and shot into his own head. A peice of the blank ended up lodged in his brain and he died. Odd set of thoughts for a Costa Rican bus stop.
Firefly: The space western which I never saw, was cricially loved, and I need to get the DVD from the two seasons it was on.
The Chronical: A show about a “newspaper” which is a cover for a tean of properly ethnically divers, very young and hip, (all with the same bone structure in the face) to investigate paranormal things. Never heard of the show. It is amazing to watch TV without the sound. It all looks the same.
BUS TWO
The second bus trip was an adventure. Image taking a bus into a rigion of the contry that refuses to have paved roads for enviromental reasons, durring the rainy season. The last 60km of the road was dirt(read mud). A masterful bus driver got us hear in one piece.
WHERE I AM
So I am in the middle of nowhere, the farest of map I have gotten on my own (there are two other places on the earth I have been that are more remote). WIth that being said I am in a netcafe with high speed internet and the two computers next to me a occupied by teenbopper girl who are talking like valley girls (in english, their native language) who are getting ready to go out and get “so smashed”. It is more than my little brain can handel.
Off to get food, a shower, and sleep before tackling the rain forest tomorrow.

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