I arrived yesterday afternoon following a 12-hour travel day on top of a sleepless night. The taxi pulled up in front of a small condo complex on a dirt road, sketchy. I was given two codes, the first to open one of the three lock boxes hanging on the wrought iron gate to get into the small and unimpressive courtyard. I faced four doors and had been given no instruction on which one to approach, so I chose door number one.
The code wasn’t working, so after the third try I backed away. A young woman opened the door to face this haggard and frizzle-frazzled woman trying to find her way. I apologized and walked toward door number 2. I thought she’d gone back inside, but instead she’d walked toward me in support. It was another couple of trying moments before I broke the code! Momentary relief.
When you’re doing something for the first time in a totally new environment suffering from sleep deprivation, you can imagine the panic exacerbates! Traveling alone, as a female, is no joke. It’s exhausting and lonely. You are constantly on alert. There is no partner to share the joys or burdens, help with luggage, answer questions from authorities, or even hold your place in the long Customs line so you can take turns using the bathroom.
I’m in. I lay down the heavy suitcase, backpack, sweater and scarf (it’s 90 degrees hot), and proceed to check out every nook and cranny, to include the pots and pans (no bueno). I had no means of communication without internet and I needed to tether to someone. There was a QR code in a frame under the TV, but QR codes don’t work without internet. Freakin’ Catch 22!
Don’t panic. Try to stay sane. That’s another thing about being alone. You can’t break down because there’s no one around to pick up the pieces! I roll out my yoga mat, get on the floor and watch Netflix for distraction. ExPats with Nicole Kidman. Bad choice.
I’d survived on a DD hot latte at 3:30 am, nuts, an apple with almond butter, airplane cookies, a cup of lukewarm tea, a Lara bar and an orange. Thankfully, I’d brought a bag of Cream of Buckwheat and made myself a bowl.
Do I venture out? Is it safe? How do I get to the beach? I pull up my big girl pants and give it a go, but I can’t get out of the gate. WTF! I go back in to regain my composure. Eventually, I succeeded by completing a magic trick, a reach-around to unlock the door from the outside, fumbling fingers as my guide! There’s got to be an easier way!
I confidently walk up the dusty, dirt road, quaking inside like the frightened animal I am. I see people walking, I see an open-air bar restaurant, a young couple sitting at a picnic table playing a game with dice. Skirting around them, I approach a solo man at the next table, “Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did,” he smiles as he gestures with his hands to bring it down. “You’re in Costa Rica. It’s all going to be okay.”
His name is Matty and he’s the owner of the place. He directs me to the beach and a small bodega. After a short walk on the beach, I buy a carton of what I hope is whole milk and a mango, and head back to Matty’s bar. This open-air restaurant-bar is my saving grace. A friendly face and free wi-fi! It is full of funs things: ping pong, horseshoes, cornhole, a pool table, decks of cards, books, foosball, board games, rocking chairs and a huge screen TV. Superbowl next Sunday?
I sit at the bar, order a drink and a salad, and grab a 50-piece puzzle. An adorable, relaxed native takes a seat next to my backpack. His skin is a beautiful bronze. His frizzy hair pulled back in a bun. His smile. Matty introduces us. I asked him to return the puzzle to the shelf behind him. My mind is too tired and tense for another puzzle! As I eat, I notice he has taken the puzzle out and starts arranging the pieces. By the time we finished it, although two pieces were missing, I had made two new friends.
I asked Matty for the bill. He brushed me off. I insisted.
I walk home with two new friends in my heart and experience a more easeful entry this time around. I shower and go to bed. Howler monkeys? Loud screechy birds? I fall into the deepest sleep surrounded by nature.
All is well.
