Getting out of Ometepe and back to Costa Rica turns out to be a very long journey. After a breakfast of pancakes with fruit at Gloriana’s (named after Juan Carlos’ daughter), we packed up, checked out, and headed to the bus stop. It is 9 a.m. The bus finally arrives at 9:30 a.m. We are lucky to get seats for the long ride. We meander through most of the island before arriving at the ferry at 11:15 a.m.
Halfway through the trip, a young woman boards the bus holding a baby. A man stands to offer her a seat. A few minutes later, she makes her way to the rear of the bus sans baby. She sobs into her arm, leaning on the rear door. She glances back once, then continues her quiet sobbing. The bus slows down to a rolling stop a few minutes later. The woman opens the door and exits. Is this a woman abandoning her child? Or did she sell her baby? Or is she just a doting babysitter? Am I reading too much into this silent drama?
The lancha started off at 11:30 a.m., taking the full hour to reach the mainland. Disembarking at San Jorge and taking a taxi to Rivas takes another 30 minutes. At Rivas, we say our goodbyes as the 5 of us are heading to 3 destinations.
Luckily, my bus to the border leaves shortly. I get to the Nicaragua-Costa Rica border, which, despite recent deteriorating relations between the two countries, remains open and easy to navigate. At least I am not waiting 1 1/2 hours for a whole bus to go through customs today! I get to the Costa Rican side and onto a San Jose bound bus by 3 p.m. Night had already fallen by the time I get dropped off in Barranca, 3 1/2 hours later. This place is not even listed in the Lonely Planet! I feel very vulnerable, standing in the dark on my own by the side of a road in a place I know nothing about. With the help of a local couple, I manage to get to Puntarenas, the largest town in the area. Not much of an improvement: this town has no charm that I can detect. It is, like port towns the world over, infused with a good dose of sleaziness. I splurge on a better room, noting the nice older couple whose home seems to be this small inn.
I am hungry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast 11 hours ago. I passed a Chinese restaurant earlier, its sign proclaiming the best Chinese food in town. Only after people watching over dinner do I realize that all the other diners are close friends and kin to the establishment. If this is the best, I hate to visit the runners up. I wasn't asking for much--just a bowl of rice that is not three days old.
What a day! But then, if all goes well on a holiday, there are no good stories to tell.
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