Back to San José

Above: Coca Cola Bus Terminal in San José

Monday 15th February 1988

We got up and packed our bags at 05:15 hrs., and as per usual when we were already awake, the alarm went off at the set time of 05:20 hrs. We got on the Puntarenas bus which set off at 06:00 hrs. with a throaty bellow from what remained of it’s exhaust pipe.

We bounced down the hillside trying not to look down at the terrifying drop on our left-hand side, the bus being dangerously close to the edge. At last, we bumped off of the dirt track and onto the tarmacked road for the last hour to Puntarenas.

We had a good breakfast in town and joined the huge queue waiting in the hot sun for the bus to San José. Declan got chatting to a local in dungarees who was waiting with his wife and two toddlers. After a 75-minute wait at 11:15 hrs. we got on a luxury bus to San José which cost us ₡ CRC 90.

Reaching San José after a two-hour trip we pulled into the familiar “Coca Cola” Bus Terminal. We checked into the Toruma IYHA Youth Hostel after the trudge across town along the Avenida Central. The hostel was packed but they managed to squeeze us in.

We threw our gear into the dormitory, and I picked up a welcome letter from home. We then set off into town for the OTEC Travel Agents on the 2nd floor of Edificio Victoria, Avenida 3, Calles 3 y 5. Declan was keen to get home to London, so he took the first available flight, which was leaving tomorrow for Caracas.

We had tickets from Trailfinders in London which were for flights into Mexico City and return to Heathrow from Caracas in Venezuela, open for a year. He got little change from $300 U.S. dollars.

We then went on to find the dentist that was recommended in the South American Handbook. This was Dra Fresia Hidalgo on the corner of Calle 14 and Avenida 15, near the Coca Cola Bus Terminal. The lady dentist was friendly and spoke English, so I made an appointment for tomorrow at 14:30 hrs. to replace my filling.

We returned to the Youth Hostel for an excellent cheap meal and found the hostel gardener playing bongo drums and maracas along to his radio in our dormitory. A miserable old bloke with a white beard who we had seen previously in Montezuma, was surprisingly appreciative to this din. This was surprising as earlier he had complained about us chatting in the dormitory.

In the evening we had a farewell shant (social drink) in Ye Pub, demolishing three jugs of draft Imperial cerveza while chatting, looking at the television and listening to soul music on the radio. The black barman was telling his friends about an encounter with putas (prostitutes).

We picked up a Big Mac from McDonalds on the way back to bed at 22:00 hrs.