Grandma in Costa Rica

This summer I visited Grandma, who lives in Costa Rica.

She went back to Costa Rica when her arthritis worsened. In her emails, Grandma would let us know, the balmy warmth makes her aches fade away.

This was my first time in the country. I've never been one to travel so this was a very big first for me.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane was how muggy the air was. I headed over to the parking lot thinking I could drive to the hotel. Unfortunately, the car rental place was closed.

Fortunately, the hotel picked me up from the airport. My driver was not too young, and not too old. I couldn't quite figure out his age as his chubby cheeks were hidden by a somewhat thick, soft beard. He was fast at picking up my bags and even faster driving to our hotel. A very pleasant man, with a very respectful tone of voice, he greeted and escorted me to my room. I had no local money yet, so I offered him a five-dollar bill. He waved his hand vigorously, refusing the tip. I felt a little miffed. How do I thank him? I was only here to visit Grandma, so I'll be out of here first thing tomorrow.

I slept well and when I awoke, the sunlight shone brightly through the window, the gauzy inner shades barely filtering any light streaming in.

I went over to the window and pulled the heavy shades shut, plunging my room into near total darkness. Very solid impenetrable shades. Too bad I couldn't stay longer. Since I had to check out before noon, I got out of my room with plenty of time for breakfast.

The car rental was open, so I moseyed along the sidewalk towards the parking lot, eager to drive out. The car looked pretty decent, much larger than I would have liked. I always keep hoping the car rental places would give me a sporty red vehicle to whiz around in. The hatchback was larger than I would have liked and much larger than the other vehicles around the hotel. My being the only one to ride in the hatchback, sitting in the driver's seat, just made me feel so small inside the vehicle.

Perhaps had the car been smaller I might have noticed sooner. As soon as my hands gripped the gearshift, I realized the gearshift felt very alien.

I thought I was prepared. I had made sure that I requested an American Car, with power steering and all the works so I could drive. What I hadn't asked for was stick shift and it looked like that was what my hatchback had, stick shift.

Once more I felt foolish. I had wasted so much time getting ready this morning that by the time it was time to hit the road, the rental agency had closed again.

With a heavy heart, and feeling red in the head, I turned on the engine. Eeeee...

My heart sank deeper at the weird sound coming from the car.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, to drive out to Grandma's house in the mountains. Now I could not even start this car. The engine sounded wrong. Rather than the usual surge in growling sound that I have come to expect in gas vehicles, this one sounded weak, like it wasn't quite on. I stepped on the gas, and the engine did not respond. I managed to get it to travel two feet, before I finally admitted that I had to find another way to Grandma's.

I made my way back to the hotel. I stammered at the hotel attendant who had been my driver last night. "Can you help me with something? I rented a car for this trip, but I can't drive it. So, I have to return it. Can you talk to the rental agency for me? They are closed now. Can you talk to them when they open again?"

He looked concerned. Then the man told me to wait. Then he disappeared into the back.

The hotel attendant was back in less than a minute. He said, "I have permission from my boss to teach you how to drive. Let's go."

My jaw dropped. He showed me how to shift gears, showed me how to use the clutch. I was amazed. He was so patient and let me ask question after question. Then we switched seats.

It took a few tries, but finally I was able to move the car forward with a more normal engine sound. I was also able to drive faster than 1 mile an hour.

I wanted to hug him, but we were still in the car. Instead, I offered him a larger tip, two times more than what I had offered last night when I checked into the hotel. Once again, he waved away my tip.

"Come on, I won't be back, and you helped me so much." What I said was true. My Grandma was in the mountains, and I had planned to see more of Costa Rica before I left so I had arranged to fly out from a different city.

He still had that concerned expression on his face. He would not take the money. Later, as I had a long drive ahead, I realized how deeply ingrained hospitality was in this part of the world. The hotel attendant wanted a young traveler like me to feel welcome in his country without any expectation for reward. I would later come to realize this attitude was pervasive.

City driving was smooth, but outside the city, as I drove deeper into the desert wilderness, the roads got rougher. They were still paved but covered with loose gravel. The car rocked back and forth all along the way. It was a bumpy, but comfortable drive and soon I drove faster and faster. I figured it would take about four more hours to get to Grandma's.

Every road sign was in Kilometers which made my head spin. The speedometer said 60 so I was driving 60 miles per hour more or less.

All around the road was sandy gravel with a few shoots of very dry tufts of grass. As I continued along the road, two hours passed, and I started to worry. The signs were all in Spanish. Did I forget and miss a turn? There were no streetlights or buildings, and the last human outpost was back in the city.

Eventually, I came across a lady with a boy. I slowed the car down to a park. When I rolled down the window, I did my best to ask for directions.

She didn't bat or blink the whole time. She nodded her head confirming that I was going in the right direction, then she told me something in Spanish. I nodded in agreement, thanking her profusely for easing my mind.

Before I knew it, she opened the door to the back of my hatchback. Then the boy and the lady hopped in.

Stunned, I didn't know what to say. I now had two passengers in my backseat.

I later came to realize that I had parked at a bus stop. As I replayed the moment in my mind, the lady must have asked for a ride, and I must have agreed.

I tried to be amiable and talk but I found myself getting aggravated due to missing vocabulary, so I finally gave up. The lady and her boy sat quietly. Soon the boy pointed to a sign, letting me know that we had reached their destination. They got out and immediately headed along an invisible dirt and gravel path.

It felt so surreal to have two passengers who just seemingly appeared and vanished into nowhere. I had the feeling that they'd done this before, just hitched a ride with strangers.

As I kept driving, I figured I was close to Grandma's. Then the road began to narrow, and the road started to curve a lot. Then the road got steeper. Next thing I knew, I felt like I was driving a nimble cat on the road, carefully going up a slope, then down a slope. The drive was getting increasingly educational. I had only been driving for less than a day and already I was going up and down with clutch. It was scary.

The hatchback struggled going up the slope. Then it would sail when the road sloped downwards. I was glad the road was empty. It seemed to curve so much that I found myself driving slower and slower until I felt like I was hiking up and down the mountains in a car.

The mountainside was on the passenger side, and I was glad for that because I could clearly see how steep the drop would be to the left of me. There was only one lane, but this one lane was getting more and more narrow, and I found myself praying that I still was on the right road. There was no way I could turn around and head back now.

The rock-face was all a golden blur in the peripherals. The canyon was beautiful. Also, the valley appeared greener and less desolate from a bird's eye view. However, I couldn't enjoy the breathtaking sight. I kept my eyes focused on the narrow road. As the car rolled across the gravel, I could feel my torso rock back and forth with the car.

At the city, the roads were paved, but in the countryside, the roads were gravelly and now, here, in the mountainside, I'd say very gravelly. At one point, the thought in my head was, "They have to sweep the loose gravel. A car could slide off the cliff here."

Finally, the road began to widen. Relieved, I looked forward to seeing a few establishments, but there was still more barren land to the left and to the right of my car.

A green pasture cropped up and before long, I was driving through a field of sugarcane. They were tall like cornstalks, towering over my car.

The sky was getting dark now. I looked at the clock on the dashboard. 8:30pm. "I've been on the road for nearly six hours and it's still bright."

There was more sparse landscape, but I didn't mind. Getting away from the steep mountain roads was all that mattered.

In another two hours my car pulled into the driveway of an outdoor dining area. There was a table with benches. I was at a restaurant. Grandma was there with a man.

Grandma introduced us, "This is Juan, owner of this restaurant."

Grandma spoke to me in Spanish. I couldn't speak or understand Spanish but some words like restaurant I was able to recognize. She could speak English perfectly, but she always wanted me to learn other languages.

Juan surprised me when he started speaking in perfect English. He asked me questions like how my trip was so far, and what did I like about Costa Rica. Then we started talking about the car. I let Juan know that my car had a hard time climbing the mountains. The car had absolutely no power.

He looked at my car. Standing beside the driver's door, he asked me to open the door, which I did. He looked under the steering wheel and then pointed to a button.

Juan looked at me. "Your car has four-wheel drive. Did you use it?"

I told Juan, "I never knew it was there."

I could feel the heat rising up my cheeks.

Fortunately, I was only here to visit Grandma. In a few days, I'll be back on a plane to the USA.











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