#1

San Jose is a Z. This can be taken most literally - a zany zoo perhaps. Or symbolically - representative of its foolhardy foray into urban planning; an intentional grid skewed into s-curved obscurity. One may go so far as to say zealous - taxi drivers salivate over the prospect of a fare from two gringos, balding men with four fingers forcefully make your acquaintance, and all the while you just want to retreat like a defeated soviet army and wrestle the wilderness with reckless autonomy. And so, like a modern day Thoreau (or is it Snyder) we were off.

When traveling on a budget in Latin America your relationship with buses is akin to an arranged marriage of sorts. You roll the dice hoping for a seven, when you know   snake eyes are far more likely. Blind faith though, is all you have to hang on to.  Having expectations met then on a bus in San Jose, would be like opening your front door to a tall goddess named Svetlana holding a pot of her mama's borscht. 

There are a few things you can bet your bottom dollar on when it comes to bus transit in Latin America. One, you'll wish you had some sort of avian flu type mask to filter the acrid, non-EPA approved emissions that swirl into your nasal cavity, pirouetting their way deep into your respiratory system. Secondly, you will be moving sssslllooooowwly. We won't go on to diss the mechanical capabilities of the buses and place the blame on these prehistoric beasts entirely, as infrastructure development in this neck of the woods is also out of the triassic era. Points A and B are connected by one sparsely signed roadway. There's no "maybe I'll jump on 84 and hit 91, or should we take the Post Road rather than the Merritt." Its A to B, and a jumbled mess in between. Third, centralization must not have a Latin American equivalent. No MTA, RTD or monopolized (although comfortingly efficient) transit services of any kind. Local, regional, and international buses dominate the roadways. Was it the lime green Busscar bus we wanted? Or the dilapidated white Transportes Blanco? No Port Authority-like bus terminal either. Each company leaves from a different nondescript intersection in San Jose, the city of no street signs where chronology has apparently not caught on either.  Bus schedules in San Jose are posted, yet rarely adhered to. We surmised that this was a ploy on the part of the ticos to keep the gringos as far away from the beach as possible.  And don't count on leg room. The buses are designed with the diminutive Latin American fellow in mind no doubt, exacerbated by the ostensible necessity of ticos and ticas of all shapes and sizes to recline into a nearly horizontal position. With an unwanted guest in your lap, you ride down the road to perdition wiping beads of sweat from your brow and praying to some sort of almighty spirit that the man seated in front of you will crack his window and let the breeze flow. But alas, it is hopeless. You later find out that a majority of Costa Ricans sleep in kilns. 

Our stay in San Jose was unintentional, yet a great way to ease our assimilation into Costa Rica. A slight delay on our inbound flight meant missing a tight bus connection (and with our present knowledge an unattainable one) so we booked a bunk at a hostel for the evening. For those of you planning on a trip to Costa Rica in the future, Gaudy's Hostel was magnifico! Free pancakes, fresh fruit and coffee in the morning. Wi-fi, television (playing spanish translations of Man vs. Wild with a truly befitting and macho Bear) and outdoor space for after dinner smokes and cervezas. 

Here's what we learned about San Jose during our brief stay - 

1.) Spicy table salsa is not to be confused with the sopa del dia. Expect resultant tears and/or panting breaths.

2.) The city is comprised of roughly two districts. One which we paint with a broad brush and call the "commercial center." The other, the "auto body repair district."

3.) Just because a restaurant (or 'soda' down here) advertises a plato del dia, and a host even informs you of the day's offering after your inquisition, does not mean they will actually be serving the plato del dia that particular day. The local 'casado' makes a fine substitute however, satiating the belly with rice, beans, a protein of your choice, green salad, plantains and a mystery element for something like $4 US.  

4.) Making a living as a taxi driver or police officer, two professions intrinsically tied to a knowledge of the layout of your particular city, in no way holds you accountable for the location of cross-streets or city landmarks.  

5.) There's really not too much remarkable to say about San Jose.


xo,
nick tiberio and noelle graupner