Stop at the tree in the hole

So I said in the last post I would tell about the street names.  Well, here I am, ready to spill the beans on this disastrous non-existent non-organized process.

It seems the makers of the street system in Costa Rica didn't deem the use of street signs and names necessary.  Geniuses.  There are absolutely no street signs in Costa Rica, except in my neighborhood, but nobody bothers to even remember the names.  It useless, because nobody understands them anyway.  The directions to most places are just "Oh, drive 400 meters and take a left by the little restaurant on the corner." 

I mean, duh. Who wouldn't know to drive 400 meters and take a left.  So simple.  Not.  So once upon a time, we were given directions somewhere, and one of the lines was "Stop at the tree in the hole and take a right." Of course, I thought it was a typo and it meant the "hole in the tree". But sure enough, when we got there after those 300 meters, there was a tree growing out of a man-hole.  So presto! we took a right.  

Even though there are no street names, everyone knows how to get around just the same because they're used to it.  What can be so simple to them is just baffling to us.  And vice-versa.  (Woot-woot! Fancy vocab. word!! Be proud of me.) 

Wish me luck on starting my second week of high school!

Navigation of the Streets

Here I am, now officially a high-schooler for two days. Woop-dee-do. How so super exciting. 

It actually is fun.

Anyways, on the way home from school, I noticed something not for the first time.  The automobile system.  This dysfunctional system is one of the many things that can at first challenge newcomers.

The first thing that is different is the roads. There are no lines anywhere. Basically, it's a make-up-the-rules-as-you-go-along kind of thing.  And then there is the asphalt.  Or lack of it.  The street is made of of potholes, or pot-canyons, with a little tiny bit of asphalt in between.  That is one of the complications of driving.  You have to go around or somehow artfully drive to the pothole remains under your car and between your tires.  That is hard to do, however, as my mom points out.  So most people go around them. 

 This leads to people driving into the opposite lane.  This happens quite a lot, whether it is to avoid the enormous potholes, or to go around some kind of utility truck fixing the wires (which, of course, is parked in the middle of your lane), or to go around some person backing up who is too stupid to stop and wait so that you can pass. (Seriously, there are people who just pull out with absolutely no consideration for other cars who may happen to be driving behind them.  It is, according to these dull-witted drivers, the responsibility of the other cars to stop or swerve dangerously to get out of their rightful way).  

The thing that helps the most, of course,is the lack of traffic lights.  For example, the intersection in from of my house is probably the most dangerous intersection in all of Costa Rica.  You have five streets coming and going, with utterly no traffic light at all.  Every morning, my dad and I are stuck in the middle of the Hunger Games turned into an intersection, with the "survival of the fittest" idea floating around our heads. What happens is that you poke the nose of your car out and risk getting your bumper knocked off.  This forces some people to stop.  

So when your safety is assured there, you go out a bit more to make people stop, and so on, before you can actually get down the street you want to go.  Some people, of course, barrel out there.  That seems to be the most effective way to do things, which, therefore, is what everyone else does. However, my mother deems it too stressful to try to get through there, so she tries to do it as safely as she can (which probably isn't that safe by American standards, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do).  

Sometimes, I think it would be better to learn how to drive down here.  I mean, yeah, you learn how to drive in the States, and you get a license, yadda yadda yadda. But down here, and American drivers license doesn't cut it.  You either need a giant monster truck, or a couple "Costa Rican" driving lessons before you can successfully navigate the roads of Costa Rica. 

All in all, if you are a safe driver and cannot bear stress on the road, I would not recommend moving to Costa Rica.  Or all of Latin America, for that matter.  Just stick to your nice traffic lights and street signs and double-yellow lines on the road which people pay attention to and follow respectfully.  You will be protected from the mad and insane and psycho drivers we have down here. 

Note: I will explain the street names later on.

Late Night Visitor

So, a couple nights ago, I finish my homework and I'm heading to bed. My gaze slides over the wall of the staircase, and what I see makes my heart stop. (Hint: I have arachnidphobia ). That's right. There is an enormous spider just chilling there on the wall.  I blink a couple times to get my heart to stop pounding and to try to convince myself it wasn't there. Needless to say, it didn't work. The big black monstrous creature crawls forward a bit, and I lose it.  I scream for my mom to come kill.  She appears with a slipper, takes on look at it, say "Oh my" and goes to get my dad. Now, that's not a very good sign because my mom is fearless when it comes to killing bugs.  Or in this case, man-eating spiders.  My dad comes with a magazine, my mom right behind him.  He walks up to the spider and gives it a solid whack that resounds through the whole house.

It didn't kill him.

Instead, the spider falls from the wall and straight into a basket with a bunch of stuff in it.  Again, my mother goes "Oh no". By now, I'm practically hysterical and hiding myself in my room.  My parents start digging through the magazines and find the spider.  My dad kills it with the second smack.  They kiss me goodnight and go back into their room.  I lay wide-eyed on my bed with the light on.  For protection, I bring in my chihuahua to sleep with me.  His name is Rockefeller Balboa Napoleon, but we call him Rocky for short.

Good luck sleeping tonight, I tell myself.

Note: This spider was probably 3 to 3 1/2 inches in diameter.

Mixed feelings...

Sometimes I love it. Other times, I hate it. Sometimes, I love the fact that I can speak another language, converse with locals, and enjoy rural settings. Other times, I wish we had Target. Seriously. Target would be great. Some people ask me how I use Facebook down here. I say "Internet. Duh." I mean, just because this is Costa Rica, a country between Nicaragua and Panama in Central America, doesn't mean we don't have internet. Same goes for music, the movies, and the grocery store. Yes, we do have all of these. Costa Rica is not filled with farmers who herd cows. Although coming across a herd of cows in the street isn't entirely rare.

To conclude.

The point of this blog is to show everyone what it's like for me, a teenager from South Caroline, to live in a third world country. So just keep an eye out for little pieces here and there of things down here in Costa Rica.


P.S. Not everything down here is rain forests, either.