My flight was scheduled for a late evening arrival. I prefer flying into Costa Rica in the daytime hours. From a window seat I always anticipate the moment when the plane descends from the clouds and you get your first glimpse of the green earth a few miles below. But there are advantages to arriving at Juan Santamaría Airport after midnight.
Checked luggage arrives quickly, lines are shorter and faster, and the daytime gauntlet of taxistas, tour company reps and random hustlers have gone home until daylight. There were a surprising number of people for the late hour. Another flight arrived shortly after, another two hundred people to be processed.
I had a couple of hours to kill, so I went to the cafeteria overlooking the terminal to wait. A line formed at an Avianca counter for a flight departing at four in the morning. At about 3 a.m., I went outside, around and down to the street to await the first bus of the day. When I boarded the bus the first words out of my mouth were “Good morning.” In English. Is fatigue an excuse? I had been traveling all day, and had just spent three months speaking English almost exclusively. I quickly added “Buenos días.” The driver responded, “Good morning.”
The flight from Los Angeles took five hours. The trip from the airport to my house took another five. I was on leg one, the bus into the city. A San José taxista who worked late night hours once said to me, “La noche revela el verdadero rostro de la ciudad” — the true face of the city is revealed at night. I agreed.
I would add that the underbelly of the city is revealed between the last bar closing and the first soda opening. The downtown bus station harbored several destitute men in states of slumber. Across the street two guys argued. I walked past a large sign that said that over 250 billion colones had been paid out in aguinaldos. Below it said Cuidado! in large letters and warned of all the thieves and scammers out there ready to rob you of your hard-earned bonus.
I caught a cab to the bus that would take me over the Cerro de la Muerte to home. The streets were ready for the annual Festival de la Luz parade. We passed blocks of holiday illumination celebrating Costa Rican tropical wildlife. Frogs, toucans, monkeys, turtles and more were all depicted in multicolored electric light displays. On the trip from the airport I heard the driver say that if you wanted a seat for the parade you had to camp out the night before. The parade was still a couple of days away, but the excitement was already building.
I made it home later that day. To get from the airport to my house, I spent a total of 8,200 colones (about $17 USD). The savings would be spent elsewhere in this month of celebration. My first morning back was the last day of classes and the barrio grade school a block from my house was in full party-assembly mode. There was music, and a guy (probably the principal) on a microphone exhorting the kids, who burst into cheers every few minutes. Summer had arrived and I was back just in time for another tropical Christmas. Feliz Navidad.
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