Rather than take the easy way to my next destination (which would have been a shuttle bus or flight), I chose the scenic way, travel with the locals on the local buses. Really, it only took an extra day and six buses.
It started off well, the first bus leaving Jaco for Puntarenas at midday. The bus was on time and we were away. There would be a 3½ hour layover in Puntarenas so I enquired about where my bus would depart from then found a bar and sat down for a nice refreshing beer (it was particularly hot that day). After a second beer I thought it would be good to get to the bus early so off I went around the corner. Well the guy at the bus stop making granita ices told me that the bus to Nicoya hasn’t come for two years. So I had to catch a bus to Barranca Cruce and there I could wait, by the side of the dusty road, for the bus to Nicoya. That all seemed to work out well. It was getting close to nightfall but I knew that as soon as the bus arrived in Nicoya I could just get a cab to my hotel and I’d be set.
We travelled on for quite a while but I had done the math and expected the journey to be about two hours or slightly more. About two hours later, at 6.30pm, we pulled up in Carmona and it was the last stop. What about Nicoya I asked. Oh, we were there an hour ago they told me. Are you going back? Yes, tomorrow morning.
Note: Sunset is at 6pm each day, sunrise at 5am.
So I went into the office at the bus stop, I was not quite sure what it was for but it was open and it was the only thing open in this small town. Ayudarme! I proclaimed, Yo necesito un hotel (see what I mean about the bad Spanish). I got a couple of arm gestures and the word Cabinas. So I walked down the street and around the corner where I found a lady out for a Sunday evening stroll with her three teenage children. Ayudarme! Por favor yo necesito las cabinas. They were extremely kind and walked me around to the cabinas, I’m pretty sure the only place to stay in Carmona but not easy to find and not well lit either. So they chatted to the middle-aged guy who was sitting out the front, by the driveway in a timber chair. Then two of the kids ran down the road. Then they came back and they all chatted a bit more. I didn’t get any of their conversation.
Then the family left and me and Trino were alone, in the dark, outside these cabinas and I was wondering what the bloody hell is going on. Trino assured me it would all be okay, I think, and that I could stay there. So with my bad Spanish we conversed for the next hour until the owner came by. He had been at church, with the rest of Carmona, and we were just waiting for it to finish. The conversation with Trino was insightful at times but relatively limited on the whole. Trino spoke three words in English – “a thousand years” – each time in that sequence. I had no idea that particular phrase could be sprinkled throughout a conversation so readily, but there you go.
Finally the owner came back and I could check into my room – similar to a highway motel room, basic, sparse but containing everything one needs, including three fans. After settling I decided to sit outside and smoke a cigarette. I got up after a mango dropped from the tree. The town of Carmona I would later learn was full of mango trees and there are literally hundreds of mangos lying all over the ground as you walk along the street. Seeing me outside again, Trino decided that it was his duty to keep me company so he came to join me and our conversation continued. He told me how he had split with his wife only six weeks beforehand and was now living at the cabinas. He chatted for a while and I understood some of it but then I really had to go to bed, I had an early morning.
The next day wasn’t quite so eventful, I got the early bus to Nicoya, from there a bus to Santa Cruz where I had a 3 ½ hour wait for the next bus. Santa Cruz is described as the hottest place in Costa Rica. Costa Rica is really hot anyway so it is no great reward to be the hottest place, and its no great thrill to spend several hours there in a bus shelter waiting for a bus. Each bus mind you on this trip has been in slightly worse shape than the previous one. So for my final bus, we’re talking moulded steel seats and the bus chockablock full. The guy who sat next to me was friendly, I thought, but then he asked me for money.
After another couple of hours I saw the sign for Hacienda Del Sol, my destination. So I got off and was ready to walk the “short distance” but the lady at the restaurant there told me it would be impossible so she yelled at her kids to bring her the phone now and madly started calling people to help me out. Eventually we got on to Menlha, the owner, and she came to collect me. Senora was right, I couldn’t have dragged my things across three kilometres of rocky, dirt road with hills and twists, in the searing sun.
