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September 27, 2005
River Boat Border Crossing
A little after 5:00 in the morning, and after another half-hour nap under the table, the boat finally docked in San Carlos, Nicaragua. The town is situated along the southern end of Lake Nicaragua where it meets Rio San Juan which flows along the Nicaraguan-Costa Rican border until it meets the Caribbean. A hot and muggy port-town, the place was bustling as we stumbled off the ferry. A woman was selling coffee and pan dulce along the side of the dusty main road, so we bought some and sat on plastic chairs with a couple of Canadians to pass the first hour, and then had breakfast in a small restaurant a few doors down. Finally at 8:00 the immigration office, which was located on a dock on the lake, opened and we got our exit stamps for Nicaragua.
The boat heading to Costa Rica didn’t leave until 10:30 so we headed down the street to take a look at a small market where people were selling fish and crabs that they had caught out of the lake and the mouth of the river, as well as chickens and bananas. The small crabs were sold ten at a time laced on a string. We watched customers walking through town with this string of crabs, bundles of fish, and live chickens held by their feet. Before long we were on the river boat heading up the Rio San Juan into Costa Rica. During the hour journey we met a nice family: the parents were originally from Nicaragua but now lived and worked in Los Chiles, Costa Rica, while both of their two young boys had been born in Costa Rica. We had heard stories that Costa Rica was full of immigrants and migrant workers from other Central American countries; people were drawn there by the stronger economy. This family was an example.
Once in Costa Rica when I went to pull money out of the bank I realized I didn’t have my credit card. Most likely I never got it back after the last meal but who knows. There wasn’t much I could do about it as we needed to quickly get on a bus to Ciudad Quesada. Luckily we made it in time. Hours later we jumped out of this bus and into another headed for San Jose along the side of a road. The buses here are no longer school buses but instead luxury cruisers. I kinda miss the former. Finally, around 7:00pm at night we checked into our hotel.
When I was 19 I took a trip to Costa Rica, the first trip I had taken to what one might consider the developing world (I had gone with my parents to Acapulco, Mexico when I was 5 or 6 but this was my first trip as a young adult). Landing in San Jose and making our way through the city during a torrential downpour I felt like I was in a completely different world. Entering San Jose this time around, I felt like we were back home. It was instantly obvious that this was the strongest economy in Central America we had seen.
Once settled in the hotel I gave Juan Carlos Hidalgo a call. Although we have never even spoken before, we had corresponded by email. Juan Carlos formerly worked at the Cato Institute and now works with the Libertarian Party in Costa Rica (10% of the Congress in Costa Rica is Libertarian). Unfortunately, he was leaving for Spain the next day, so tonight was our only chance to meet. When I reached him he was at a bar having a few drinks with some friends before his departure, and invited us to join them. I said we would try to make it over after we got a bite to eat, but made no promises as both Em and I were tired after our 28 hour journey.
Dinner recharged us though and an hour and a half later we caught a cab to the La Villa, a bar in a trendy part of Costa Rica. Unfortunately, we never did meet up with Juan Carlos. He might have just left or we might have walked by each other 20 times in the happening place. Although we missed each other, it was great to get out and see some of the San Jose nightlife.
After a few drinks and cruising around the bar one last time we called it a night. Tomorrow we are off to Playa Tamarindo. We have heard that Costa Rica (and all the rest of the Pacific coast of Central America) is being flooded by rain from Hurricane Stan and the dirt roads quickly wash out. We´ll see if we make it.
Posted by Peter Mork at September 27, 2005 11:45 AM
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