When you take a whiff that big for $11, you know you got a good deal

Our journey in Tamarindo ended on a slow note. After passing up partying on Friday, we then also missed out on free drinks at the Discoteque Aqua on Saturday. Our livers will thank us later. On the other hand, we made enough rice to feed a family of 10 for dinner last night. The taquitos we cooked were awful- I suppose that´s what you get for buying your food from a store that smells like rotting, dead bodies. Before going to bed we downloaded an application for Truth or Dare on my Ipod. Best dare of the night, pour cold water into the belly button of the person to your right. We didn´t do it. Kissing was also brought up which lead to an app which taught us how to kiss appropriately. I think its safe to say we all learned a few new pointers (Chris didn´t learn anything). Watch out ladies.

After getting up at a quarter to five we left our hostel about 5:15 in search of a bus to bring us from Tamarindo to meet up with our 8:00 connection with Tica Bus in Liberia. All our sources, including another bum, insisted that it would take about two hours and that we should take the 3:30am bus if we wanted to be sure to arrive on time. Apparently this bus (the Tica Bus) is often on-time or even early- hard to believe. We decided to neglect that and try our luck with the 5:45 bus. We walked down the street to where we were instructed to find our ride. Wouldn't you know it a bus was there and already loading up passengers! But wait, this bus was not headed to Liberia but instead to San Jose. First bummer of the day. We asked the driver if there was even a bus that existed to Liberia at that hour. He pointed and rattled of something incomprehensible and off we went; hot on the trail off...something. A drunk driver rolled past sipping an Imperial. Must have been a hell of a night to be up at that hour. Another drunk greeted us on the next corner explaining that he was a student like us (what do students look like?). Extremely intoxicated, he became irritated that we wouldn't believe that there was no bus coming for us. His friend was a cabbie- he'd take us for $15 each. Clearly a better option but at second thought since the cab driver was barracho too. Choice #1 of the morning, would you rather: ride with a drunk driver for 73km or wait longer for the bus which still has yet to materialize (bearing in mind the two hour ride would now put us in only 5 minutes earlier than our designated pick up)? We opted for the bus-duh! Sure enough it came, only 20 minutes late. Our only hope to make the connection was that the driver would haul. Luckily for every conceivable abuela (for all you non Spanish speakers that means grandma) on board he stopped in every po-dunk town between Tamarindo and our destination. By 7:20 we has made it just slightly less than half way. We had to do something- our largest purchase of the trip this far, a $21 bus ticket was in jeopardy of going to waste. So, naturally we ran off the bus and got into a taxi. We had 10 miles to go in...7 minutes!? Oh no. Not sure I've cursed that much in a long time. 8:02 and the lottery ticket salesman shakes his head, "mas tarde". The bus hadn't been to our stop. Booya.

Not only was it not there but we were forced to sweat out 30 minutes more of waiting- time enough for Chris to eat some McDonalds. We should have known, Tico time= nothing is ever on time. We boarded the bus to find our reserved seats taken. No Lady Gaga party for now. We reached the boarder crossing and to our horror quickly realized a large quantity of our lives was about to be painstakingly removed. All passengers were instructed to form a line and wait. A half dozen or more people rushed us in hopes that they could exchange our money from Colones to Cordaba. They flaunted stacks of dough thicker than Prez's skull. Nearly two hours of standing provided us with a view of the door where we were supposed to get to. During this time we had moved all of about 3 bus lengths- more profanity. As I had forgotten from my last trip here, forming lines is not a part of pre-school teaching like it is elsewhere. Really what I'm saying is that any attempt for multiple people to achieve the same goal ultimately and inevitably ends in a clusterfuck- always. Success; a stamped passport and we now had permission to leave Costs Rica. But now we still had to enter Nicaragua. 45 minutes stationary in international waters (see The Book for similar procedures regarding bullshit or ask us because we´re well versed in its rules and regulations). The bus driver took all of our passports, plus $8 as an entrance fee for crossing/visiting Nicaruagua. Once again we were forced off the bus and told to take our bags from the undercarriage. Clusterfuck. Our bags, being the last ones to be loaded, should have been the first to get off but that makes way too much sense. Instead we found ourselves balls deep in Nicas, leaving the crowd with backpacks above our heads- elbows flying everywhere. We proceeded to have our bags searched by customs. This consisted of the guy looking at us, collecting our entry papers and telling us to go back on the bus. We didn´t even have to open our bags. I guess we could have smuggled drugs across (if we were into that sort of thing).


While eyeing some of the freshly prepared food one of the vendors started seizing and fell to the ground. Everyone looked at her and stood perplexed. What to do? Well, if you know Nica- you do nothing. Time to get back on the bus. In order to do so this time we had to stand and wait for the agent to call our name and get back our passport. Mistakenly I thought I heard my name called second. Turns out no. I got laughed at. Low and behold we were the last three. Stupid Americans. We had the privilege of watching our second bootlegged version of Ice Age. You could hear the audience laughing in the background- beautiful quality for Latin 'Merica. Following that they played some awful movie. Maybe it was intended to be romantic because the woman next to me groped my butt multiple times. I blame it on her overweight status, but I was quite uncomfortable by the whole ordeal (ironic that we learned how to kiss correctly the night before i think not). The lady next to Prez might have been worse. She kept propping her legs toward him and doused him with her perfume. Yummy burned nostrils.

The ride was quite pleasant and we got to see some cool wind farms and volcanoes. Finally we pulled into the Tica Bus station at 4:30 instead of the 3 o´clock scheduled time of arrival. After a short taxi ride we made it to our hostel which is actually in two separate locations. Burger King for dinner and then to the super market for what proved to be the most uplifting moment of the day. A 1.75 of the famed Flor de Caña rum for only 11 dollars. I forgot how cheap it was here! It would have been irresponsible not to buy it In all we got a liter of coke, the rum and two bags of chips for 14 u.s. money´s.. try and beat that with even ronny d. Once again, 12 hours of travel, four of which were spent at the border crossing but we are all still alive. Just as I remembered it appears that everyone in Managua wants to rob us- this part of town actually looks pretty nice. Tomorrow holds the biggest upgrade of the entire trip- a hotel, not hostel which costs twice as much for one person per night than what we pay for all three of us. Then off to Jalapa on Tuesday.


We have to pay for internet up there so the stories may slowly start to shorten for the next few days. Just remember- don´t come to Managua unless you have a reason, or just want some cheap, high quality rum (will someone price check it at firehouse for me, jiggy?)

Go Vikings, Brett Favre

Peace and love to all,
Luke