Hey there, everybody.

This weekend, Bryan and I went to the town of Fortuna, the nearest city to Arenal Volcano. But do you see what I did there? I wrapped up our travel into one convenient little sentence, completely removing any reference to the adventure that was getting to the city. I shall now relive that adventure for you. The following is based on a true story; only the events have been changed in order to make it far more exciting.

Our options for getting to Fortuna were many. We could take a plane for $75, we could rent a car for about $125, we could take a charter bus for about $25, or we could continue being the cheap tightwads that this country has made us into. Meaning, we could take the public bus for a mere $3. Obviously we chose the latter. It would add about an hour and a half onto our already considerable travel time, making the trip take around five hours, but we would save $22 as well as get to have a cultural experience. And boy, did we experience the culture.

The trip started normally enough. We boarded a bus in Santa Ana at around 3:00 to take us into San Jose, normally about a ten minute drive by car. With all of the bus stops, it took us closer to twenty. We were expecting this, so it was okay. However, once we got into San Jose and got off at the proper stop, we realized we had no idea where the bus station we needed was. If you've never been to Costa Rica, then you've never really gotten to experience the thrill of trying to find an address in a city where streets have no names and buildings have no numbers. Addresses here are directions in relation to landmarks. For example, my house in Santa Ana would be "200 meters past the catholic church, turn left, go 50 meters, stop at the pile of chicken cages and look up. I am in the bar on your left." The bus station we were looking for was "700 meters north of Coca Cola [Market], across the street from the old church." It took us awhile to find it. Once we did, we had to fight through some very elementary Spanish skills in order to find out which bus we were supposed to board. After boarding, we had to sort out the fare with a bus driver who spoke no English, and as far as I could tell he also spoke very little Spanish. It took us awhile to figure it out, needless to say.

But then, at around 4:45, we were on our way. Little did we know that two and a half hours later we would have to make a stop in Ciudad Quesada and change buses. I don't honestly remember how we figured out which bus to board in those twenty minutes at the bus station, but we did it just in time, because shortly after getting on the bus we pulled out of the station. Although we needn't have worried about hurrying, because we were riding the public bus. Before leaving the station's parking lot, we had stopped to pick up four different groups of people who had been ten minutes late to catch the bus. In order to make all of the necessary stops on our way out of Ciudad Quesada (also known as San Carlos, by the by, and the names are used interchangeably without explanation to confused gringos), we had to drop off all of the nighttime commuters, teenage partiers, and just plain ol' vagrants. It took us about an hour to leave San Carlos.

About forty minutes outside of San Carlos, we made a stop, and it looked like everybody was getting off of the bus. It was obvious we weren't in Fortuna, or any city for that matter, because everything around us was completely dark. I turned to Bryan in order to let him know that I was confused and frightened. Luckily, somebody nearby who spoke English heard my pathetic whimpers and filled us in on what was happening.

"There's a bridge the bus can't cross. You have to get out and walk."

He was serious. And he was right. So Bryan and I got off the bus and started walking. It was dark by then, about 8:15 at night, so we couldn't see more than a few feet in front of us, and most of that was by the light of the bus behind us. All we could hear was the rushing of water beneath the bridge we were crossing, which seemed to get more rickety with each progressive step. I was being a pansy about it, yeah, but it was an unsettling thing, I tell you. Anyway, we got across safe and sound, boarded the bus waiting for us on the other side, and rode the remaining hour and a half to Fortuna. We checked into our hotel, had dinner, and went to bed, secure in the knowledge that our long day of travel was over.

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Okay, I need to go for now, our bus is about to leave for San Jose. I'll finish telling about the weekend either later today or tomorrow, once I get back to Santa Ana. But don't get too excited about it, the trip here really was the most exciting part of the story.

Hasta luego.
-Juan Iglesias