Adios Costa Rica..

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Antonio, the hyper cook, woke me up knocking at my door. Shit. I had set my alarm clock at 5:50 a.m. but I was deep asleep and didn’t hear it.

“¿Lista niña?”

I brushed my teeth, clean my face, grabbed my backpack and left the hostel. Antonio and I walked to the bus station. We were both on the 7 a.m. San José-bound bus—I was getting off in Alajuela and he was going to the Caribbean Coast.

I had barely slept. The hostel in Jacó was located behind a popular bar and the music was loud. People came and went all night and the place was filthy in the morning, beer cans everywhere, dinner leftovers scattered around the dirty kitchen.

What a place.

Once in the bus, I closed my eyes and dozed off. When I opened them again, we were in San José’s suburb. Fuck. I had missed my stop.

For my last day, I had decided to stay in Alajuela, a town located close to the airport, 18 kilometres from San José. I had already visited the capital when I flew in and I thought being in a new place would be fun, that exploring may keep me busy, may prevent me from thinking too much.

I don’t like leaving. I don’t like endings.

Don’t get me wrong: I miss Mark, I miss Feng and I’m not even considering staying longer in Costa Rica. Costa Rica and Nicaragua are great places but I think I have been everywhere I wanted to and it’s not like I want to move there and start a new life. I’m happy that I settled in Canada. I’m a traveler, I’m not looking for a new home—I have one already.

Yet I know I’m going to miss exploring a new place every day, spending my time outside, walking everywhere.

And I hope I am strong enough to do things differently at home to make sure I don’t burn out again.

I got off at the Coca-Cola Terminal in San José and sighed. So, what should I do now? Stay in San José or find a bus to Alajuela?

I decided to stick with my first plan and head to the suburb. I found the bus and twenty-five minutes later, I arrived in Alajuela.

I looked for a hostel, checked in, took a quick shower and headed out, but I just wasn’t in the mood to explore. I walked the streets, took a few snapshots and got bored. There isn’t much to do in Alajuela.

Fuck it. I’d go to San José for a few hours then. I hopped on the bus once again and got off close to San José’s pedestrian avenue.

I keep on thinking how free and happy I had felt there when I arrived three weeks earlier. I went to my favourite soda and had a good lunch but it didn’t cheer me up. This wasn’t a day to be alone. For the first time in ages, I felt lonely.

I was restless too. I didn’t feel like buying souvenirs. I considered going to the theatre to see a movie but nothing good was playing. I didn’t want to visit a museum—I’ll be indoor soon enough in Canada.

I walked to the mall in San Pedro and decided to get a haircut. Costa Rica is expensive but haircuts here are still cheaper than in Canada.

Twenty minutes later, I felt slightly better. At least, I had accomplished something and my hair, now shorter, was somewhat under control.

Will my life be that easy to control as well?

You can see the com­plete set of Costa Rica on Flickr.

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

Alajuela

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About Author

French woman in English Canada. World citizen, new mom, traveler, translator, writer and photographer. Looking for comrades to start a new revolution.

10 Comments

  1. It sounds like you’re doing a lot better. I’m happy to see that you’re happy to go back home and that you have such a strong sense of what home is. Have a safe trip home!

    p.s. I think we’re all dying to see the new haircut.

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