We just completed our final
visa-renewal trip, to Costa Rica this time. Oooh....aahh...Costa
Rica . . . such luxury, you're thinking. Well. . . yes and no.
Costa Rica is a beautiful country, and the place we stayed and the
things we did were wonderful! BUT....getting there by bus was pretty
much the worst travel experience ever!
We traveled for 13 hours the first day.
Three of those hours were spent standing in lines for immigration in
100 degree heat. And when I say “lines,” I mean that in the
loosest way possible. These “lines” can be cut into at any time,
and sometimes lead to nowhere when the person working that window
suddenly disappears with no explanation. When we drove to Belize the
border crossings were easy, and they never even looked through our
stuff. Not so going into Nicaragua. They rummaged through our
suitcases, opened the wrapping paper on Rayanna's bday present, and
other such invasive procedures. Of course, they need to be careful .
. . it's those darn missionary families and their kids always
smuggling in drugs and weapons disguised as birthday presents.
Despite the humiliation of having our personal items publicly
rummaged through, they never even found the apple that I accidentally
smuggled across the border. So that reinforces my opinion that the
entire thing is a waste of time. Unless someone packed an entire
suitcase full of drugs they're not going to find anything.
Anyway, probably a total of 10 hours
were spent at the various border crossings: 2 countries each way, an
entire bus load of people having to be cleared before we can go on.
One station had food and drink to buy; the others did not. And a
bathroom for your children while you're waiting? Well, there MIGHT
be one, and if there is, you may or may not have to pay to use it.
Note to self: As scary as it is to drive through Central America by
yourself, it's a heck of a lot easier and less frustrating than going
with a bus.
So here's how our first day went: spend $120
for a two-hour taxi-van ride from our house to the bus station. An
hour later, board the Tica Bus. The bus itself was relatively
comfortable. However, either the AC didn't work that well or the
driver had it turned too low, so it was a bit stuffy. Add to that
the boat-like suspension, the view obstructed by seats and window
frames and curtains, and the psychotic driving methods on insanely
curvy roads, and you get . . . nausea, headache, and all-around
feeling horrible. I occasionally get car sick, but never to this
extent. While I didn't actually vomit, I pretty much felt like I
might for the entire 2 days.
So I should be grateful for the 3-hour
immigration break, right? Not so much. First, someone from Tica
came down the aisles collecting $5 for the crossing. We did know
there was a fee, but nothing official was announced...just this Tica
guy asking everyone for money. Um, ok, I guess. What else can we
do? Then we had the privilege of exchanging the carsickness for
standing in an oven waiting for our passports to be stamped. Here
the time was passed by the fun pastime of convincing people that
“Yes, these really are our daughters.” A lady who was selling
nuts really had trouble wrapping her mind around this. “They don't
look like you. Are they your daughters?” “Yes, they're adopted
from China.” Stare. Play with their hair. Look confused. “Are
they your nieces?” “No, our daughters. They're adopted.”
Stare. Look confused. Comment to someone else. Now the someone
else starts asking questions. We explain again. Even used google
translate to make sure we had the right word for “adopted.” More
confused looks of disbelief. “Are you their mom?” I know our
Spanish isn't that great, but really people . . . surely you've at
least heard of adoption? And if the questioning, staring, and
playing with their hair isn't rude enough, shouldn't you at least
move on with your life at some point and leave us alone? I'm usually
very gracious with adoption questions . . . I do want people to
understand and see adoption as a good thing, and I want to be a kind
representative of adoptive families, of Christians, of Americans,
etc. But when you start making my girls uncomfortable I get ticked.
Fortunately, the nut-lady (no pun intended) moved on before I got
really irritated. Back to waiting “in line,” people cutting in,
officials leaving their desk and not returning, etc, etc. And don't
forget it's still 100 degrees.
We finally got our passports stamped
for exiting Honduras. We got back on the bus. Then the Tica Bus guy
collected $14 per person and everyone's passport. Um, rule one of
international travel: Never give your passport to someone you don't
know. But again, what to do? We handed them over and hoped he was
trustworthy. Turns out he took them all and got them stamped into
Nicaragua and gave them back...no problems. By the fourth time this
happened, we were “old pros” and even got to offer comfort to an
American guy who was really worried that he'd just lost his passport
forever. (You know, Tica, just a little warning ahead of time that
this was standard procedure would have saved several people a lot of
stress.) Even so, the receipts that were in our passport when he
gave them back showed $4 (not 5), and $10 (not 14), so I'm fairly
certain we were ripped off by the Tica company.
Back on the bus. Oh, did I mention
that Tica said the buses had wifi? Well, that's what they said. But
it didn't work. Not that I expect wifi all the time...just honesty.
They also had plugs for charging phones, but those only worked on one
of the four bus rides. And the reading lights above each seat . . .
those were turned off so you only had light when the driver decided
to turn on the lights...which was usually just after you finally fell
asleep and he turned on the lights and made an obnoxiously loud
announcement for the next stop.
So we continued on with this delightful
day. We'd been on the bus since 10 am, a 3-hour stop for immigration
(with no chance to buy food or water there; well, other than from the
nut lady), and we still had several hours to drive . . . so surely
there would be a stop for food and water happening soon. But guess
what . . . no such stop happened. You would think that on the
website . . . or during the course of several emails I had in the
purchasing process . . . or in information given out with the tickets
. . . SOMEWHERE someone would think to mention that there wouldn't be
a chance to buy anything. That you needed to bring EVERYTHING you
might need. But no one had told us this, and so our meals for the
day were chips and cookies and crackers that we had brought in our
“snack” bag.
At 7 or 8 pm, we finally arrived at the
Tica Terminal and Hotel in Managua, Nicaragua. Ah, finally we can
get some real food, more water, and a good night's sleep. We got off
the bus (and, still with no help or direction) found out from a taxi
driver where the Tica Hotel was. It's right there on the same
property, but nothing is labeled and no Tica staff helped us. In the
eerie green lighting of the hotel lobby, we were told that they
couldn't find our reservation. (We had purchased this reservation
two months ago, as part of our bus ticket purchase.) So the man at
the desk kept our passports (again with the taking of the passports!)
We were shown to a room, and thank-the-Lord it had air condition
because by this point I might have really lost it. However, what did
it not have? A place to buy food or water! In a country where the
tap water is not drinkable, a hotel has nowhere to buy water? Are
you kidding me!?! Last time I checked, water was an essential
ingredient of life. So, the kids and I went to the hotel room with
our half-liter of remaining water. Heath ventured out in this dark,
foreign city (and bus stations are never in the good section of
town), to find food. He found a little restaurant that only took
Nicaraguan currency or US dollars. Having come from Honduras, we had
Honduran currency (useless), credit cards (useless), and 10 USD. So
Heath bought some chicken and rice dinners, and a bottle of water,
and managed to make it back to the room without being mugged. It
turned out to be plenty of food, and enough water for the night. In
the morning, we planned to exchange money and get water from the
snack shop. But as it turns out, the hotel does not exchange money,
and there were no ATMs or banks near enough to get to before the bus
left. When Heath pointed out to the Tica personnel that this meant
no water for our family all day he received a half-hearted “sorry”
and a shrug. Fortunately, we had $1 left and bought one more bottle
of water. To last 5 people the entire day.
The second day of the journey was
pretty much a repeat of the first, except that—thank the Lord—there
was food and water available at the immigration stop. Otherwise I'm
not sure what we would have done. But still, no information, no
help, no apologies, no show of any concern from Tica staff. One new
item was that they showed a movie on the bus. Oh good, free
entertainment! Well, if you consider watching people get killed in
violent sword fights and women having some kind of séance to be
entertaining then yes. If, however, you are not into Satan and gory
violence, oh....AND YOU HAVE CHILDREN WITH YOU...then you might find
this “entertainment” just slightly inappropriate. Especially
when this isn't like an airplane where you plug in your headphones if
you want to listen; no, the sound was played through the entire bus
whether you wanted to hear it or not. It was enough to give me a
headache make me sick even if I hadn't felt carsick and had a
pounding headache already. But since no one showed any desire to be
helpful, and we were too exhausted to try to argue in Spanish, we
didn't try to do anything about it. The girls were watching their
own movie on our computer, so we let it go. When that movie ended, a
child-friendly one started. Ten minutes later they turned it off.
Whatever.
Finally, finally, FINALLY we make it to
the Costa Rica terminal. The horrors are over, and our vacation can
begin! Not so fast. Did I mention we were 3 hours later in arriving
than what we had been told? And that no updates were given, no
apologies made? And that there was no way to contact anyone from the
bus to let them know? Well, this presents a problem when you have a
rental car company meeting you at the bus terminal and no way to let
them know you will be THREE HOURS late. Needless to say, they
weren't there when we arrived. Our phones don't work in Costa Rica,
so surely the Tica staff would help us out, right?! Well, they
pointed to a phone on the wall that makes collect calls. We tried
calling the car rental place, but got no answer. It was a Sunday
night, and their office was probably closed anyway. We were supposed
to be driving to a nice B&B that evening, but now we had no way
to get there. So what to do, but hand over more of our money to Tica
and stay at their hotel. Only this time the biggest room they had
was for four people. That was a fun night.
After a few major temper tantrums (from
me, not the kids), we all went to sleep, despite the bright light
outside the window shining through the white sheet hung as a curtain.
I woke up thinking it was morning, but no....it was just the giant
electric sun outside our room. In the morning, we still had no
working phones to call the rental car company, but thanks to the
Navmii app Heath was able to find their office and walk there.
(Twice. The first time he had to come back and get his passport.)
But finally, we had our rental car and were on our way. Let the
torture end and the vacation begin!
Stay tuned to read about the happy part
of our vacation. . .
