Costa Rica. Day 1. I have arrived.

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Day 1. I have arrived.
At first the landscape from the air looks little different than that surrounding almost any large city, a simple quilt of lands that has been cleared for agriculture and commerce. But as we approach the airport and homes spring up topped by corrugated tin roofs, the scenery announces we aren’t in Kansas anymore.
After traveling a large part of the night—either flying or waiting in air ports—I touch down in San Jose, Costa Rica about 11:30 am Fri. Nov. 11. After zipping thru customs and collecting my sole piece of luggage, I stroll outside and am met by a rep of Caravan Tours who puts me on a tour van headed toward out hotel with a fellow tour guest.
The Barcelo Palacio, where we are met by our tour guide, Virginia, turns out to be very nice accommodations with surrounding gardens and one of the largest pools I’ve ever seen in my life. Since we are a ways out of town, too far to just walk to see the sites, and I have had only about four hours of sleep that night, I opt for a massage in my room. Once over I fall asleep, oily from head to toe, but content. Dinner is served buffet style so there is plenty to eat, and I meet a few more members of the posse.
That evening all 42-tour members meet to introduce ourselves. By the end of the meeting, I have memorized about ten names, and can actually match one name to a face—but only because he is sitting next to me and has a name “Kirk” that I can hook to something “Douglas.” Whatever works, right? It doesn’t hurt that he looks like Steve Martin. I’ll work on the other names later. I figure if I can work on a couple names a day I will know everyone’s name by the end of the month. Unfortunately the tour will be over before that.

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