Yesterday I found myself wondering what I was going to do this weekend, as there is very little to do in San Jose and I hadn't made plans to travel elsewhere. Upon the suggestion of one of my American roommates to go downtown, I hopped on the city bus because I needed to go there to get a bus ticket for next weekend anyways. Not really knowing where I was going or when to get off, I had put a lot of trust in her directions! The bus ride there was surprisingly easy and I ended up getting off where everyone else got off. Stepping off the bus, I felt fairly comfortable in my surroundings - a park, a few bigger stores and a lot of people around.
Walking in the general direction of where I thought the bus station was, the atmosphere and dynamic changed quite and bit and I was suddenly a gringa (a non-derogatory term here for a white person) in the middle of Latin America. People surrounded me, selling everything from suckers to hairbands, underwear and earrings. Homeless people carpeted the sidewalks, some awake and begging, some sprawled across the cement sleeping. I was rather taken aback when a homeless man actually grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him, asking for money. It was then that I realized my Dona had given me warning to "tengas cuidado"...be careful. I was even more nervous because this morning I had wanted to bring my camera along with me to snap some shots. It was now clear that taking that out would only increase my odds of being robbed - a chance that was already heightened because of my light hair and skin as well as my gender.
After a bit of wandering, I found the bus station which ended up being very close to the bus stop, thankfully. However, I couldn't find the ticket station. Luckily, this is a very popular backpacker area (as it is the main bus station in Costa Rica), so I sought out the first gringa I could find. Upon asking her where I could buy a ticket, she brought me over to where she had boughten one and helped me. The girl, Greta, had just missed her bus to Manuel Antonio (which is where I'm going next weekend), so she had a few hours to kill before the next one came. We decided to explore the city together. Her missing her bus ended up being a sort of blessing in disguise for both of us because now we could see San Jose without the danger of walking alone.
We took off with no real direction or agenda as we didn't know the city well. Downtown ended up being less interesting and eventful than I had hoped, with the majority of stores being junk stores filled with clothing or useless nic-naks. We did manage to find a coffee shop (a MAJOR rarity around San Jose) and an art gallery which had beautiful but spendy paintings. We also went into the Teatro Nacional, the only building in San Jose with any architectural significance. This is the only spot I felt comfortable taking out my camera (photo above), which is unfortunate because I was really hoping to get some pictures of downtown culture.
Walking back to the bus station, Greta and I were using our best sense of direction to return us to where we had come from. Obviously failing us, we found ourselves walking down what could very well be the worst street in San Jose. Again, mom, you may want to scroll past these few sentences. As we walked through a neighborhood of drugs, homelessness and dangerous stares, we tried our best to look as if we knew exactly where we were going and what we were doing. Hopefully it worked. As I stepped over and around homeless men sleeping on the street I prayed that we would get out of this area sooner rather than later. Thankfully, once we came around the next corner, we could breathe a sigh of relief and give the slightest laugh at what we had just encountered.
Finally dropping Greta off at the bus station, I decided I had gone through more than enough for the day so I walked back to where the bus had dropped me off and waited for the next one going in the direction of my home. Hoping I had used my Spanish correctly to ask the driver where he was going, I hopped on and sat into the corner seat, getting smashed against the window when a morbidly obese man squeezed into his seat and half of mine. As we drove down the road and I felt the sweat trickle down my calf I had a major revelation... I'm not in Australia anymore. This has certainly been a drastically different experience from my study abroad trip!
To end on a brighter note, I'm signing up for a volunteer program that brings it volunteers to different national parks for the weekend where I will be doing anything from picking up litter to preserving the habitat of sea turtles. This seems to be an opportunity to go away for a few weekends for little money and with guidance. I'm not sure if anyone will even be reading this long, long blog entry at this point, so Happy Saturday!
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