W' was up at around 05:20 and although I had not set my alarm I woke up even as he did, and so it seemed a waste to try and just lounge around in bed all morning when he was due to be off for San Jose as well in under an hour. So I threw my stuff into my rucksack and waited for him to take a cold shower, which he wasn't too keen on but I thought that he had read the flier saying that there was no hot water until after 6am.
Without any further delay, we checked out and headed back to where we had shared the meal last night to where the bus terminal was, and being as early as we were, we hopped on a more direct bus than planned at around 05:40 in the morning.
Although the clouds were still in La Fortuna, the morning rain lasted all of about five minutes before it started to clear and by the time that we reached San Carlos we were in sunshine. I have no idea why in South and Central America so many cities and places have got more than one name that they still use, as it confuses the hell out of tourists like me when they say one place and we ignore it cos we are expecting to hear something totally different.
As it was we managed to get on board a bus going to San Jose and both bus fares combined barely cost as much as a single taxi journey in the centre of town, and we were both bemused how on earth the buses can afford modern buses and still turn a profit with such low fares. Personally I would love to know as I would dearly like to tell the transport secretary of the UK that he doesnt need to charge us an arm and a leg to get across town, but thats a whole different gripe.
As luck turned out, because we had good weather and little traffic, we arrived in San Jose around 10am, almost 9 hours earlier than when my flight out was due to depart, and even more fortuitous was that the bus was not direct so it took us right past the airport, so I waved goodbye to W' and went to see if I could find an earlier flight to San Pedro Sula in Honduras.
The check in clerk spoke English and informed me that although they only have one flight to there a day that I could still check in now if I wanted, and thus have the day spend wandering around the city centre without lugging my bag around, which seemed a good idea so I did that and paid the US $26 departure tax before going back to the bus stop to see if I could hop on one going into the centre of San Jose, where I could possibly visit Liberty Plaza during a sunny day, which I am sure would make for some inpressive photos.
However, depsite me asking a few times if the bus went to centre of San Jose, the bus driver took my money then kicked everyone out in the centre of Alajueno, a smaller town to the east of San Jose, or possibly one of its suburbs or disticts, but either way after I got to an internet cafe and asked a guy there where I was I was banging my head against the monitor when I realised that I was in the wrong place and had no idea of what to do here.
Not being one to let the good sunshine go to waste, I was happy to go for a stroll around the centre of Alajueno, grab a bite to eat and do some sight seing before finding another bus that would take me back to the airport around 5pm. Not only do the Central Americans change the names for cities, but they even do it for food. I went to a place which had a nice plate of food diplayed including fries, but no matter how I asked the girl lady behind the counter could just not understand what I wanted so I gave up.
A guy who spoke English sitting with his girlfriend on the next table to me, came over and asked what I wanted and offered to help, so I told him about the sign and the fries and after a chat I managed to pay for my "papa pequeno's" - which were their name for fries and nothing at all like Potata Fritas or anything similar !!!
To kill a little more time, and becuase my sideburns were getting a little out of control, I decided to get my hair cut and I strongly advice against anyone who can't speak the local lingo to go into one of these places and ask for somthing short.
In the UK I am always asked what side of clippers I want on the back and sides, so when my hairdresser asked me about numbers I assumed it would be the same, I certainly wasn't thinking she was going to take the same clippers and go right over my head down the middle, like a reverse moheacon, and of course once she did the first bit I was then committed to letting her finish or buying a hat and not taking it off for three or four weeks.
She did leave a tiny bit of a fringe, but I now probably wont need another haircut til I leave Australia as it will take at least til Christmas just to get long enough to so something other than stick our from the roots.
After these two mini dilemmas, I headed off to find a bus to go back to the airport, which was easier said than done, but eventually I found one and hopping on, made my way back to the airport and through security to the departure lounge where I found a corner with a plug socket where I could hook up my laptop and while away an hour or two with drafting up emails. I did manage to get my wifi adapter to work for a few minutes, but all too soon it crashed on me again and so although its not completely dead it is definetly unreliable and didn't work for the next few days at least.
I bought a book to while away the time, and I was gobsmacked to find out that a book costing US $8 in the USA was being sold in the airport for US $13, and I suddenly remembered my friend in South America telling me that there was a huge conspiracy with selling books at hugely overinflated prices, and I now knew exactly what she was going on about.
The flight over was pleasant enough, and before too long I was pulling up to San Pedro Sula immigration lines with my several forms all receently filled in and my passport. I was almost the last one through the lines, as they were processing the nationals a lot faster than the foreigners and I had started to get a horrid sinking feel when I went to collect my bag to find that it was not on the revolving carosel.
As they shut the gates to the loading area I made a scan of all the people lining up to have their luggage rescanned before being let out, which was the first time I have seen luggage inbound having to be scanned, and when here too I could find noone with my bag I headed off to the lost property office, only to spot that my bag had been bagged up and taken off the carosel to be dumped in a pile with a few others waiting for their owners to come collect them.
I have no idea why they did this, but I picked it up, passed through security and reflexively zipped up my jacket as the outside was a throng of bodies all trying to squeese through a tiny opening and I certainly didnt want to get pickpocked here.
The taxi driver outside said that the price to reach my hostel was US $40 to which I just laughed and walked away, mainly to sort out my luggage but also as he was clearly trying to rip me off big time, and I was having none of it. I headed off to the departure loung, where I asked a guard how much it should be to get into town and when he said US $20 I was shocked it was so high, but sighing I knew that if that was the price I could not haggle below this and so went back to the taxi rank.
Knowing that 20 was the minimum I was expecting to pay 30, but I had been away for long enough for the crowd to disperse and the only taxi left was the same guy, who recognised me and called out 20 before I could even open my mouth, so without a delay I accepted and jumped in.
Arriving at the hotel was not a problem, but despite making a second booking in the same hostel as I was arriving a day earlier than previously planned, the hotel owner said that he was full, but would willingly take me around the city is his van to find me a safe place for the night.
So I paid the taxi and was about to get back into his van when a friendly American gentleman , who later said that he was actually a Honduran due to his family lineage, who spoke perfectly fluent Spanish, interjected and offered to give up his room for me, saying that he would crash out on a spare mattress from his room so that I did not have to leave the hotel, and although I offered to switch places and take the spare mattress, he insisted and so I gratefully accepted and then lugged my stuff up to my room.
Such kindness and good conversation I was really not expecting, but he turned out to be a very interesting guy with plenty of stories of his own to tell, like the one where he was tutor to Shakeil Oneil's brother, and so we happily chatted on various subjects for almost three hours til it we were both yawning a bit and I took that as my cue to thank him one final time and then head on up to my room.
One of the things he did tell me, before we said goodnight, was that Honduras was recently experiencing a bit of a turbulent time with local born but American educucated gangsters who had been recently expelled from the US and returning home found it a country ripe for the picking. With their exprience and list of contacts they had no problem obtaining drugs, prostitutes and guns easily enough and gained an early advantage as the local police force were totally unprepared and untrained for this sudden rise in violent organised crime.
The other thing he told me was not to mess about with the local women, as Honduras also had one of the highest percentages of recorded Aids cases per thousand of the populace in the whole of the America's.
Meeting you was the highlight of my stay in Honduras. I shall continue the friendship begun by following the course of your adventurous life with interest and reverence. M'
ReplyDelete"Friendship is a disinterested commerce between equals; love, an abject intercourse between tyrants and slaves." - Oliver Goldsmith