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I left La Garcita, with the other English-speaking volunteers, at 13:30 and took a bus into central San Ramon in order to catch the early bus to Puntarenas. So, the REAL adventure begins when you start taking public transport (mainly buses) in a Latin American country. Surprisingly, for the amount of tourists that come to Costa Rica, not many Ticos speak English or, are willing to speak Ingles! From there, it was a 1-hour wait for the bus to Quepos where I had to then get another local bus to Manuel Antonio. BTW, the driver to Quepos didn't have a working speedometer - it took us over 4 hours to get there. So, altogether, it took me 7 hours to get to Manuel Antonio. A looooong trip for a weekend!
I arrived very late on Friday evening and had arranged to have my own room as I wasn't feeling well because of a rather nasty cold I've caught from the kids. Wendy's fellow volunteer, Carolyn from New Jersey in the States, has been in the country for 3 months now and arranged for our accommodation. All I wanted to do was go to sleep on a nice comfortable bed as the one I am sleeping in in San Ramon has springs which poke into my back and is squeaky, so every time I turn I wake up which means I haven't had a solid night's sleep in a week! Alas, the hostel bed is also bad - ugh, the Princess an the Pea saga continues!
In the morning, Wendy and I went for breakfast and a catch up session. Wow, I haven't seen her that animated in a long time. Sounds like she's having a hard time on her project and in her accommodation. Her room is a windowless cell and her host mother cooks terrible food and really stingy portions. I feel quite lucky where I am, but still, it is quite unacceptable to provide such bad conditions when you're paying a lot of money to be there - even if you are just a volunteer! Anyways, we both agree that we aren't that impressed with Costa Rica and we have yet to fall in love with the bland food, unaesthetic towns or the unfriendly people.
We head off for breakfast at a local place near the beach and are not altogether surprised at the cold reception we receive from the waiter who is surly and rude. We order the Huevos Rancheros but the food is completely inedible and the smell of it makes me want to vomit: it looks like a swimming pool of microwaved ketchup with 2 half-fried eggs floating on top. We refuse to eat the food and ask for the bill (too tired and don't have the required language skills to argue with the waiter) but, of course, by this time he is pissed off with us and refusing to acknowledge our presence. So, we go to the till and are, this time, ignored by the owner who stands in front of us without acknowledging our presence for several minutes and pretending to shuffle paperwork. He refuses to take payment by card so we are forced to pay using a large note. By this time, we are pissed off AND hungry and head off to the supermarket to get some water. 5 minutes later, I turn around and the waiter is outside the supermarket waiting for us. I think, "If you've come all the way here for a tip, you've got another thing coming, mister!". Apparently, he insists that the bank note Wendy gave the owner is a counterfeit. Wendy explains that this note was issued to her by a Costa Rican ATM so it can't be and, besides, she doesn't have any other money. He insists that we go back and pay by card (which they didn't want in the first place!). Anyways, by this time I'm mad and start shouting at him and tell him how can we even be sure that this note he is waving around is even the note that Wendy gave him - it could have been given by someone else! He threatens to call the police and I say, "Go ahead, but we're walking away from this ridiculous situation!". a******.
Anyways, that incident kind of soured our view of Manuel Antonio. That and the fact that the beach is totally overcrowded as it is the last weekend before school term begins and the water looks dirty. We decide to walk around and explore the area a bit. Luckily we come across a hotel with a gorgeous swimming pool which we spend the afternoon in until it starts raining.
Hope, turns up on Saturday afternoon and we get to hear all about her shoddy living arrangements: 25 people in a hostel with only 1 bathroom! She says she struggled to get the evening off from the project and is so glad to have made it to "civilisation" - it's like being let out of prison without having committed a crime! I have taken to calling her and introducing her to other people as Esperanza (the Spanish word for hope) - I hope she doesn't mind!
For dinner, we all go to a Gringo-style eatery across from the beach - and have some great food with flavour. You know, normal things like garlic, spices, salt, pepper - that sort of thing!
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