I flew out of Newark and arrived in San Jose at 8:30ish CR time. No big excitement, though when I landed I belatedly realized I’d neglected to research anything about the taxi deal there. Some countries have organized taxi services, others have chaotic free-for alls where freelancers jostle and cajole for your money. San Jose appeared to fall into the latter (though Shannon would later tell me that she walked right up to the organized taxi service line and easily procured a taxi *head desk*). Anyway, after navigating the taxi touts and finding one that looked vaguely respectable, I piled into his taxi and took off. Fifteen minutes later the driver repeated the name of the hotel, as if confirming the location.
Me: * Blithely practicing one of the 10 words I know in Spanish *: “Si.””
Taxi Dude: “You know where?”
Well, crap. “Uuuuhhhhhhhh….. No. Yo no say. You don’t know?”
Taxi Dude: “No. No say.”
I reached into the backpack at my feet, hoping I was bright enough to print out that map the hotel so handily pasted on its website. Nope. I’m not that bright. No worries, though, because the taxi driver solved all our problems by pulling alongside another taxi, rolling down the window, and asking for what I suppose were directions. Did I forget to mention that we were driving 55 on a freeway?
So there we are, two taxis cruising along on the freeway, having a lovely conversation about hotel locations in greater San Jose. The other cars on the road weren’t very happy with us, but it’s Costa Rica. What are you going to do? *g*
I got to the hotel, showered, and went to sleep.