Final stop San Jose

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Day 234: Think of a journey time and then add three hours

Up at the crack of dawn, I was hanging around the bus station waiting for my bus at six o'clock this morning. Having been through everyone's paperwork, it was over an hour before we finally pulled out of the station, heading south towards the border. We had a few scheduled stops to pick up various other people en route, reaching the first part of the border crossing at about ten-thirty. All handing in our passports, we hung around for an hour, buying overpriced snacks and changing money, before recollecting our documents and heading off on our way again to the Costa Rican entry point. At this point, it was all seeming a little bit too easy. And then we saw the queue to get into Costa Rica.

Snaking all around the immigration office and into the unsheltered carpark, the line waiting to get their passport stamped to get back into Costa Rica was huge, whatsmore, it didn't seem to be moving. I joined the back of it with everyone else on the bus, and started the long wait to get to the front. We inched our way forward, and an hour and a half later, we had almost reached the queue that followed the outline of the building (it was a long time before we actually worked out where the front was). Unfortunately, at this point, a well-meaning police officer decided that he would 'tidy up' the queue, and having been led round in circles in a giant musicless conga for five minutes, I was, along with my other queue buddies, slightly miffed to find that the queue had been reversed, and we were now, once more, fairly close to the back of it. We argued our point but got nowhere and instead watched as those who had been at the back basked in the shade of the building as we started queuing all over again.

Two hours and one very faint stamp in my passport later, we passed customs where a half-hearted attempt was made to search our bags, and finally reboarded the bus for the remainder of the journey to San Jose, where rather than pulling in at four as had been suggested, we arrived long after dark. On finding that the bus terminal was not in the city centre as my guidebook had suggested, myself and others were held to ransom by taxi drivers trying to charge ludicrous prices for a relatively short journey. Not wanting to pay the 'going rate', I joined forces with a couple of americans and went for a wander in search of a cheaper fare. Being late and in the middle of suburbia at the tale end of the rush hour, it took half an hour, but finally we found a more reasonable option, and were being taken across town to our respective hostels.

Feeling rather sad that my trip was soon to come to an end, I had a quiet dinner at my somewhat overcrowded hostel, before hitting the sack


Day 235: But I want to go round again...

The only good thing about today was that I didn't have to get up early. I dragged myself out of bed and packed in time for the eleven o'clock check out before heading into town to get some enough money to pay for a taxi to the airport and the departure tax. Not feeling like exploring the city in the pouring rain, I then sat at my hostel killing time and munching nachos, waiting for the inevitable hour when the taxi would come and pick me up to take me to the airport. Soon after lunch, the time came, and for the last time, I loaded my luggage into the boot and travelled out of town to the city's airport. For once, there weren't any complications with the flight, and I departed on time on the long journey back to England.

It's been a great few months, I only wish it could have been longer. Although my holidays aren't quite over yet, since I still have Glastonbury and a good few weeks in Spain to reintegrate myself back into European society, this does feel like the end of the adventure. I'm glad I could share it with everyone (I'll be testing you all when I get back). Until the next time. x

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