Our last day in Costa Rica. It’s been a long summer, and a full one. And as much as I miss certain things about home (making music with Steve, listening to NPR on the weekends, having plentiful, beautiful bananas on hand for easy snacks for Bella, going to the movies with Peter) I’m a little sad to leave Costa Rica.
Chino wasn’t available to help us get to the airport, so we would have to make two trips. Wito would take me and the luggage at 3:30. Then he’d go back and pick up Cristina and the kids (and the few last purses and backpacks) and bring them to the airport. Our flight left at 6:35, so we needed to be there around 4:30.
The airport tax. I know I write about this every time we visit Costa Rica, but I’ll state it again for posterity: I hate the airport tax. In a big way. In a dump-the-tea-in-Boston-Harbor kind of way. Costa Rica is a great country, but their aggravating airport tax is one of the things I hate. Trivia fact: Juan Santamaria Airport is the only airport in the world to make you pay a tax before you can leave the country. It’s up to $26 per person now. So for a family of five, we have to shell out $130 just to be able to fly home. Plus, at the end of a trip, so much money has flowed out for last minute items (oh yeah, we need to get so-and-so a gift!) that the airport tax is just salt rubbed in this miser’s financial wound. I know airports have to get money to operate and maintain, but all I’m asking is that they work the tax into the price of the ticket instead of making you pay in country. It wouldn’t feel as painful that way.
Wito dropped me off at 4 am, said goodbye, and headed back to Pavas to get the rest of the family. A skycap wheeled our mountain of suitcases to the Frontier check-in counter.
Some tourists don’t realize that you can pay the airport tax early, at any bank. Cristina had done that Monday, so we didn’t have to wait in the airport tax line in the airport like so many other people. It was a long line. I was glad not to be in it.
To go through the line to check in, I first had to fill out a form on the back of the airport tax document (a procedure wrapped in a form inside a bureaucracy). It wasn’t too big of a deal because I was early and there were not very many people there yet, but I wished I had a cell phone to call Cristina and give her a head’s up. Then she could fill out all the other four forms before she got here. But I was powerless. No cell phone, and I was tied down to nine 50-pound suitcases and five carry-ons.
By the way, I can’t remember if I mentioned the picnic basket before. Maritza and Wito gave Cristina a picnic basket. I think it was for her birthday, because they gave it to her before I arrived. The handle on it is fixed upright, though. There was no way it could fit in any suitcase. So I filled it with light items, tied it shut with some rope, and planned to wrap it in plastic to keep it protected. We’d just check it as a piece of luggage.
Even as early as I was, I was second in line. I had 6,000 colones left. I gave the Skycap 1,000. That left me 5,000 to get the picnic basket wrapped in plastic. Wito said it would cost a couple of bucks, so I figured I’d have a little bit leftover. I couldn’t see the guys who plastic-wrap suitcases, and all our stuff was at the front of the line, so I was kind of stuck until the family arrived.
The line began to grow. Around 4:30, the Frontier people opened up and started checking passengers in. Every time they were ready for the next passenger, I told the person behind me to go ahead.
Soon, the plastic-wrap guys came to get their machines and wheel them up front, ready for business. I caught one guy’s attention as he was getting the last machine, and asked him if he could wrap something for me right there or if it had to be done at the entrance. His English wasn’t good, and my Spanish wasn’t either (“Wrap aqui? O solomente aya?”) but I figured out that he couldn’t do it right there. Since I couldn’t leave all my luggage, I was in a pinch. And with the line growing long, I didn’t want to have to do it after the family got there. But he solved the problem by just taking the basket up to a machine and then bringing it back all wrapped up. Just as he was coming back with it, I saw Bella and Sofia coming in the door. Perfect timing. I could see Cristina getting exasperated with the unexpected forms to fill out. All I could do was smile and wave from the front of the line.
I handed Plastic-wrap Man my 5,000 bill, expecting some change, and he told me it cost 5,300 ($9). A little shocked, I tried to get Cristina’s attention to see if she had some change, but the guy said it was okay and went on his way. I was officially out of money.
We got checked in and headed through security. They looked through each bag, and we were worried that they would confiscate our bottle of aloe vera lotion and Salsa Lizano (I had put it in my camera bag to lighten up the 67-pounder…totally forgot about the whole liquids thing in the carry-ons). But they let the items stay and we were in.
We parked our carry-ons at the gate and then I went to get some breakfast with the kids. Not many options. We settled on Burger King. I got “BK Pinto” for the girls (gallo pinto, tortillas, and sour cream) and egg and cheese Croissan’wiches for Alex and me.
I was hoping we would see Monica before we boarded, but it was not to be.
Finally, it was time to board. I saw them setting up tables for yet another inspection of bags (wasn’t one enough?). This time, the Salsa Lizano didn’t make it. They confiscated it. It pissed me off, too, because if I had had it in my pocket or in the bottom of a bag, they would have never known. Only because it was right in the top of my camera bag did they see it. The aloe made it because it was buried in Cristina’s bag. A package of salsa (like chips-and-salsa salsa) also got taken away. Cristina had filled her water bottle at the water fountain at the gate, and they made her pour it out. Oh, come on! If we wanted water, we’d have to buy it on the plane, they said. Ridiculous. How do you say “going overboard on security” in Spanish?
Still miffed about losing my Salsa Lizano, bummer number two came when we got inside the plane. We got front row seats, which at concerts and sporting events is a good thing. But on an airplane, it means that we have no space to put items on the floor in front, because there are no seats in front of us. And to add insult to injury, the first overhead bins are filled with survival gear, so we had to pack all our crap into the bins a few rows back. I’m sure the people sitting in those rows loved that.
In the air, I started catching up on my blog. We had drinks, and bought a bottle of water (grumble, grumble) and a bag of peanut M&Ms.
By 8:30, Bella was tired of listening to music. She was bored. Alex was listening to the iPod, Sofia was reading a book, and Cristina was sleeping. Bella kept torturing me with questions and whining about when we were going to be there. I couldn’t remember when we were scheduled to land. I asked the flight attendant. Noon. Three and a half more hours. Ugg. Thankfully, at 9:15 we crossed into U.S. airspace and the DirectTV signal became active. I’ve never been so glad to see Hong Kong Phooey in my life. Finally, Bella was blissfully silent. I worked on my blog until my laptop battery died, with only a part of one day left to finish writing.
Sofia and Alex noticed that there was a fly in the cabin. “How did a fly get in here?” Sofia asked. “I guess someone opened their window,” I said.
We arrived in Denver a little early. I called our friend Saba and left a voicemail that we’d landed in Denver on time. She’s picking us up from the airport in Phoenix. We had about an hour and a half before our connecting flight to Phoenix, and it took an hour to pick up our luggage, go through customs (no problems, except for a mild reprimand for not marking “food items” on the customs form…“Coffee is a food, ma’am”) and recheck our luggage. We were all hungry, but by the time we got to the gate, our flight was boarding in less than 3 minutes. I barely had time to run to the bathroom (I literally ran), so buying lunch was out of the question. And no laptop recharge either.
Train at Denver airport
Bella fell asleep for the last 30 minutes and slept through the landing. I had to wake her up so I could get our bags down. As we walked to baggage claim, Saba called me. She was already at the airport, circling around the terminal. So we put all the carry-ons in her car and she drove me to our house. I thanked her, gave her a bag of coffee, found my car keys, and drove our van back to the airport to pick up the family and the luggage. None of the luggage was lost, which is always a victory of sorts, especially when you have 10 bags, plus a car seat.
At a red light, I was untangling something from the rear view mirror and didn’t notice right away that the light had changed to green. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw several cars behind me, yet no one honked. That was the first moment when it really struck me that we weren’t in Costa Rica any more. Sofia commented on how slow and polite the traffic seemed. And the streets felt so big.
We unloaded all the bags (the painting made it safe and sound) and slowly readjusted to life in the States. I think we’ll all experience a period of time where our hearts and minds are still in Costa Rica. We all miss it, but it’s time to start this (possibly) final school year in Arizona.
The picnic basket, still wrapped up
Marielos's painting
(Hooray! Unlike in 2006, I finished blogging the whole trip!)
1 comment:
I love the look on your face Wayne. You look so upset.
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