Despondent and Disconnected in San Jose

 

I don’t think I went into Costa Rica with the right frame of mind.

The general feeling of wrongness that started when I entered the states continued as I planned my next move after Hilton Head.  My initial plan when beginning this journey was to take the entire year off before establishing a new job/home situation.  But then I was sick in Türkiye, making me long for a home.  I hate watching my bank account dwindle with nothing coming in.  The thought of getting another job makes me wince and yet the thought of finally doing what I’ve always wanted to do, have a writing career, makes me cower like a scared bunny.  All of it contributes to a general air of yuckiness. 

Costa Rica is big with expats and American retirees as well as digital nomads.  I knew, though, that I really preferred Europe to South or Central America which is why I’d originally had no plans to visit there.  But, I figured, while I was in the states, I could dip down and see what all the fuss was about.  Also, spending a month in the country would reset my Schengen days so I’d be free to return to Portugal for three months without needing a short-term visa while I arranged for a year-long visa. Again, not the right frame of mind in which to visit a new country.

Then there’s the whole Istanbul situation.  I still missed the city terribly.  I started to wonder if I should scratch the plan to move to Portugal and move there instead, even if only for a short while.  But I had done no research on the country and had no idea what that would entail.  I was already cowed with the thought of dealing with Portuguese bureaucracy and I had already had enough run-ins with Turkish passport control.

And, of course, there was Zaza.  Also missing him like crazy.

So, this was where my head was at when I made the new plan.  Then it was back to the tiny Hilton Head airport to wait.  And wait.  And wait.  And watch it rain from the waiting room.  It was only a short flight to Charlotte, a necessary one since flights out of HHH only went to a few places like Atlanta and New York. I would have fallen asleep even on that flight had I not been so annoyed by the wait and by the staff who insisted that I consolidate my gear before boarding as only two carry-ons were allowed.  This included the purse on my shoulder and the passport holder around my neck.  Lady, they’re on my body!  I’m not storing this stuff.  It only pissed me off further to find out during the flight that there was some extra storage space in the overhead bins.  Sigh.  Plane travel.

After an hour, we landed in Charlotte. Waiting to exit the plane, a British woman struck up a conversation with the male flight attendant.  He mentioned how he’d worked for the company for over 30 years and that, at 63 years old, he needed to work long enough to pay off his mortgage at the age of 72.  I had to turn to look at the guy since he didn’t look anywhere near 63 years old (black guy).  He also said how much he hated Charlotte airport.  We had left Hilton Head ten minutes early and yet we were disembarking 15 minutes late.  Also, everyone on the plane had insanely tight connections and he couldn’t understand why the airline had made them.  I had to agree.

I ran through Charlotte airport to get to my next gate as there was only 45 minutes between my flights.  It didn’t help that I had to go to the restroom the entire time and had no chance to stop.  I made it to my gate and got in line just as they called my group number.  We barely got in the air when I made a mad dash for the tiny bathroom.  Isn’t it just so much fun that the tinier the airplane, the more a trip to the restroom makes it feels like you’re dropping trou in a hurricane?  All part of the travel experience, right?

From there it was onto Miami.  Now, this airport and I have history and it’s not a good one. I’ve only been through there on two separate trips and each time we were delayed for some reason.  My first trip through had me stuck in the airplane for two hours after landing because of a storm.  The second time, I was stuck in the airport for five hours because of a storm in Houston that had held up my flight crew.  And, shocker, there was a problem on this flight as well.  There was a lightning strike nearby and the airport had to shut down briefly in case there was another one.  Fortunately, this was a short delay that only held us up for a few minutes.  Okay, Miami.  This time wasn’t too bad, but you haven’t redeemed yourself with me yet.  I will continue to keep my eyes on you.  You still might end up on the no-fly list for me just like CDG (screw that airport).

I honestly don’t know how Miami airport keeps operating with all the storms and delays.  I’ve said it before and I’m saying it now; stay out of Florida, kids.  That state doesn’t like anybody.

My sense of unease about this destination only increased when I landed in Costa Rica.  I turned my phone on only to realize that Google FI, while acknowledging that I was in the country, still hadn’t turned my roaming service on.  Panicking a bit since I needed the phone to find the apartment, I didn’t notice that the practically non-existent line for passport control had disappeared and it was my turn at the desk.  When the guy asked where I was staying and I explained my phone sitch, he helpfully guided me to the airport’s wi-fi.  After regaining my internet connection, I got easily through passport control, copied the apartment info to my notes, and went hunting for a cab.

After some missteps in finding the place in the dark, we reached the high-rise called Latidud Yoses. The guy at the front desk didn’t speak much English, but he knew my name and helped me fill out some paperwork before taking me around the windy path to the elevators.

The apartment is on the 19^th floor and is nicely laid out.  The kitchen was well equipped, and the sofa and bed were comfortable.  I couldn’t throw toilet paper in the toilet, but after several months of travel, that little detail didn’t even phase me anymore. 

San Jose is not a pretty place.  Don’t let the killer view from my apartment fool you.

And I know I’m comparing the city unfairly to Istanbul.  They are on opposite sides of the planet, different climates, different people.  But I had gotten used to the gorgeous buildings and numerous points of interest in the Turkish city.  In San Jose, there are … buildings. The area around my high-rise was a mix of industrial looking places and small, private homes.  Just not very inviting.

In my wanderings, I did find some nice green spaces.  Also found a living mall.  I will say that the city is compact and easy to walk except for one thing; the sidewalks themselves.  The infrastructure in this city is sorely lacking.  The walkways are uneven, crumbling, and full of holes.  Not the first time I’ve encountered that in my travels, but it is really noticeable here.

I hated crossing the street in the city.  Crosswalks are rare, people drive fast (lots of horn honking), and the sidewalks are difficult enough to navigate on their own.  The walkways are made much worse when stepping off them.  There are huge gaps between the asphalt and the sidewalks.  If you’re not careful, you can easily slip into these gullies or misjudge the leap and break an ankle.

This sentence became my calling card and shield:  Perdoname, mi Espanol es muy malo (pardon me, my Spanish is very bad).  It’s weird, though.  I speak more Spanish than I do Turkish and yet I felt more comfortable in Türkiye.  I feel like I should be more fluent in Spanish, being American, but since I’m not, I just feel dumb.  In Türkiye, no one expected me to know the language, so it was somehow better (?).

I will say that the money is pretty. Called colones, 536 of them is the equivalent of 1 USD.   The bills are colorful, have neat clear panels, and they’re covered in animals.  Costa Rica also uses American electrical outlets so no need for an adaptor.

The apartment is across the street from a Starbucks, walking distance to several restaurants and a pretty big grocery store.  This was made all the better because … they carry my wine!  God bless them!  It was way too expensive ($16 vs $11 in the states and $5 in Portugal), but that didn’t stop me from sucking down three bottles while in the city. 

And I needed that wine because that’s all I got for positives of San Jose.  I spent the first few days in a funk thinking about needing a job, money, a home. I was just in a bad head space.  The weather was also a contributing factor.  I knew that it was the rainy season there (just like in Thailand) and it did rain a bit, but that wasn’t the worst part.  The rain and wind kept the temperature hovering around the high 60’s.  In August.  I was not prepared for such cool weather at the tail end of summer.

Since it had been bugging me for a while, I did something I never thought I’d do.  I contacted Zaza.  As I’d blocked his primary number, I texted the second number he’d used to contact me, asking if everything had been a lie.  He responded within minutes on a phone I found out belonged to one of his cousins.  That was telling – a good sign that he might actually care.

We spoke that night over video.  I was used to seeing him smile at me so it was very jarring to see him looking stern and a bit sad.  He called me by name (or at least his pronunciation of my name, “Dephna”) which I immediately hated because of the distance it implied between us.  I wanted him to call me sweetheart again. He assured me that he didn’t come on to me for money and that I’d hurt his feelings when I walked out and blocked him.  I told him how I attracted vampires and as much as I didn’t want to think that about him, when he asked for money, it just set off all my defenses.  I really hadn’t meant to hurt him, I was just protecting myself.  We came to a shaky understanding after that conversation.

I unblocked him and we started talking again.  It doesn’t feel the same as it did before, but I’m still thrilled to get a text or call from him, grateful for the lifeline.  Of course, it also means I’m now in a long-distance relationship with a man I don’t know when or if I’ll ever see again.  One set of issues just replaced another.

I also reached out to my stepmom.  I try not to do that as she has been having some health issues and I don’t want to bother her with my problems.  Sick beats sad, I know that.  But I did feel better after talking to her and I’m still so thankful to have someone in my life who cares.

Reestablishing my now two lifelines did improve my mood a bit.  It didn’t warm me up to the city, though.  As much as I liked the apartment, I had to get out of San Jose.  Time to see what else the country had to offer.