Fortuna to Puerto Viejo

To hell with it. Let's forego all of these activities and just go back to the sea. Off to Puerto Viejo. We drove back to San Jose to return the car five days early. Both my passengers slept while I wearily drove for three and a half hours. The lot was closed. Great. The phone had been talked out of minutes so we couldn't call. Bought some minutes. Called them up and told them I didn't want to wait until two for them to show up so that I could turn in the car and then catch the four o'clock bus. Can't I just leave it here? Hell, they told me I could leave it on the border at Sixaola for a $150 pickup fee, why couldn't I just leave it at the office? He called the guard. No luck. Finally I was told to just leave the key under the mat. We caught a taxi to Bus Terminal El Caribe. A taxi driver told us “That was the twelve o'clock bus, the next one doesn't leave until two.” What of it? We wanted to catch it but this was hardly a disaster. “Let's go catch it.” We piled into his cab and he raced off into traffic, weaving in and out of traffic and caught up to it after three or four miles. The cab driver positioned himself and waved three fingers out the window. The bus pulled over. The driver wanted 4,000 Colones for his effort. Excessive for the distance but it beat waiting in the terminal for another two hours. Unfortunately it meant we were getting on a bus without Karl having had a chance to eat. We boarded the bus and then forked over 4,725 Colones apiece for the four hour ride in comfortable seats.

Margot had reservations at a lovely hostel that was otherwise full. Karl and I found a hotel with a great location, an ugly yard, dogs that bark every five minutes and rock hard mattresses. Whatever. Off to Sonya's for dinner. “Buenes Noches, Sonya.” “Hola, Mi amor! It has been one, two years?” “Two.” Fish tacos for dinner on the sea shore.