Although I’ve been back for over twenty-four hours now, I’ve been putting off the writing of this entry in hopes that it will somehow delay the inevitable – that my trip is over and I am no longer in the land of little monkeys and $1 fruit smoothies. Unfortunately, small amenities like air conditioning and a lack of spiders in my shower have forced me to face reality and stop waiting for a letter from Costa Rica informing me that sending me home was a terrible mistake on their part.
I spent my last afternoon surfing and watching the sunset, and then ate dinner at a nice restaurant in town followed by a bit of barhopping. At the end of the evening, I went for a walk along the beach to look at the stars, say goodbye to the Pacific, and gulp down enough water to avoid a hangover. The next morning began at a painful 5am, when I went to catch my bus to San Jose at 5:45am. The bus came on time, and all was going relatively well (as well as a packed bus that stops every thirty feet can possibly go) until we hit serious traffic on the Interamericana around 10am, and sat in one spot for almost forty-five minutes. On a normal day, I would have gotten a bit fidgety and impatient, but on a day when my international flight was scheduled to leave at 2:15pm, I literally started climbing the walls and assaulting my seatmate in anxiety. I even stooped so low as to buy and consume the random food sold by street vendors in the aisles of the bus, if only to give myself something to do (other than rip out my hair one strand at a time).
Instead of arriving at the scheduled time of 11:30am, the bus rolled up to the airport at 1:15pm. I flew off the bus in a blind panic, sprinted down the street, and stopped after a block when it became clear that I was going the wrong way. By the time I backtracked and found two women to ask for directions, I was moments from hysterical tears. I shoved my way through the terminal, cut in front of every line, and actually managed to pay the departure tax, check in, pass through security, wash the dirt off my face from the bus window, purchase and consume a small pizza, buy souvenirs, and board my plane in under thirty minutes. It was nothing short of a miracle that I was actually on the plane when it took off at 2:15pm.
And that was the end of my trip.
In case it wasn’t already clear, I’ll state the obvious – my trip was absolutely amazing. In less than two weeks, I saw a volcano, a rainforest, a cloudforest, a volcanic lake, a waterfall, and the Pacific ocean, as well as countless different types of flora and fauna. I rode horses, hiked, surfed, scuba dived, swam, zip lined, boated, and met countless other people from all over the world. When I was in Santa Elena, I noticed that somebody had written the phrase “Travel Saved My Life” in the cement on the patio of the pension where I was staying. At first I thought that whomever had written that was a bit silly and overdramatic, but now, after seeing Costa Rica and living that life for thirteen wonderful days, I get it. It saved mine too.