Exodus

I couldn’t sleep. The driver was coming to pick me up at 7:30 so I could be at the airport for a 2:30 flight. The sun rose at five and I followed close behind making tea and finishing my packing. I left three umbrellas- Lord knows they will need them more than I will. I also left a half a bottle of Flora De Cana rum, my beach towel and a spare suitcase. I did manage to fit all of the shells I found on the beach and both pairs of boots-my Dingos and cowboy boots- in my suitcase! I took one last look at the beautiful backyard at Casa Del Ray, the sloping hill going down to the pool, the ocean in full view in the background, all the beautiful tropical foliage. I thought about how much I will miss my nightly "skinny dips” in the pool before going to bed. I walked through the apartment to the front porch where I got into a hammock and swung lazily, listening to the sounds of the jungle, trying to memorize as much of it as I could. The monkeys were howling, the birds were singing, squirrels and lizards scurried about. I thought about how much I have grown accustomed to their exotic sounds and how much I appreciated being witness to such amazing diversity in this jungle. I started crying and then realized that my ride should have arrived. I called Victor at Harbor Reef, who arranged my travel plans and he said I should be seeing my car and driver in minutes. One half hour later after frantically calling Victor again, I was running down the road trying to find this lost van driver. I live in the “middle fork” of three dead end roads; surely he could figure it out! When he did, he was frantic, spitting out harsh words in Spanish through his toothless mouth. We drove up the hill to grab my things and we were off. We did not get very far before we came upon road construction. Road work in these parts consist of dumping truckloads of dirt and gravel down on the existing excuses for a road and trying to smooth it out as much as possible, then cross your fingers that the rainy season will not wash it all away. I was starting to panic because we sat there for what seemed to be at least a half an hour. I did not want to miss my flight. I fought back tears and the driver was cleared to move forward, yelling and cursing and looking at me in the rearview mirror. Meanwhile I’m wiping my tears that are now mixed with sweat because he has no air conditioning, or he won’t turn it on. After a few more miles we approach yet another construction zone and this time my driver loses it and springs from the car running to the man holding the flag. I start crying for real knowing there is no way I will get to San Jose on time. The driver returns and calls Victor. After a brief conversation he holds the phone out to me and says, “Victor”. Victor tells me we will be through this road block in ten minutes and that I will still have plenty of time to make my flight. Slightly reassured, I hand the phone back and soon we are traversing the perilous twenty plus kilometers over the flooded, muddy, bumpy terrain until paved road. Once on paved roads, I tucked a small travel pillow under my head and tried to sleep. I awoke when the van stopped thinking that we might be at a gas station and how I could really use water since my body was sweating buckets of it in the oven-like van. I sat up and found myself looking at a woman staring at me through the window. She gestured and I shook my head and said “No”. She knocked on the window and I realized that she was a police officer. Two other heavily armed officers stood by. Another delay. I handed her my passport and told her I was a tourist. She reached in the van and touched my backpack and motioned for me to open it. “You want to look in my backpack, really? It took me twenty minutes to fit everything that it is in it inside. It’s a mess.” She smiled and waved for me to show her. So I showed her my Laptop, cords, magazines, notebooks. She pointed to a small brown bag. “It’s my new bikini” I said. We did not understand a word we were saying to each other, but I could tell she wanted to see what was in the bag. When I pulled it out to show her holding it up to my body she said, “Sexy”. I spent the rest of the ride between trying not to be a backseat driver-he was so slow- doing deep breathing to relax and napping. I woke up to my driver shouting “Aero Puerto!” He swung around and approached the departing flights terminal, looked at his watch and rejoiced holding out his hand for me to high five.