Travelling the King's Highway: Reading Between the Lines

I can't believe more than a week has passed since I last posted something. I have spent the time teaching, preparing to teach, and recovering from the influx of small children. I've done some exploring, and spent a lot of time getting wet. It has been an unfortunately predictable weather pattern lately: it will be raining whenever I leave the school. It doesn't matter when I leave: right after school or 5 pm when we're kicked out. It will be raining. Thank goodness for co-workers willing to drive us part of the way home, and for umbrellas.

If you're reading between the lines, you may sense that not all is well in paradise. I'm tired of being wet, and I can't wait until the dry season. But really, when I walk out of my apartment in the morning, I only have to walk about 20 paces before I can see tropical flowers, and feel the sun. I don't have anything to complain about.

Lines. The past two weeks have been full of lines.
We had an earthquake drill. I'm really not sure if any of my students would have survived a real one if they had to depend on me. Luckily I had the grade 5 class with me, and they knew what to do. It's hard to hear the evacuation bell in my classroom, especially after listening to the sirens going off, and the kids were on it. "Miss, we're supposed to leave now." As I make them all take off their shoes at the beginning of class, I waited for them to put them back on, so we were the last ones out of the building. Then I planted them under a powerline. Then the principal came to get the slip of paper that I was supposed to fill out. I thought I had to fill it out just if I had a student missing. Negative. I looked like such a dunce. But really, in an earthquake situation, I'm really not sure my second floor classroom would be evacuable (no, I don't really think that's a word.)

Two Saturdays ago, I travelled down to Tres Rios where Jason and Marcy live. It meant I had to figure out three bus schedules on a Saturday, because unlike the rain, they are not on a very particular timeframe. It would only take about 15 minutes to drive in a private car, and I could have splurged on a taxi, but where is the adventure in that? An hour after leaving my apartment, I was walking down the hill, into their residence. (I gave up on the third bus - I'd likely STILL be on the top of that hill!)

Jason and I hit the market right away, as it closes officially at 1:30 pm, and people are packing up by 1:00 pm at the latest. 99% of the market is fresh food, and cheap! I like that you can choose how many/much of an item you want, and most of the vendors will let you sample things. I really just stared at strange things until they tried to explain what it was or offered me a piece!

After the market and a few other stops, including a ferreteria where ANYthing was for sale (including Jason's new machete. I tried to stop him Marcy, I really did) we headed back to the house. It was a great chance to just chill and visit. About 5:15 we looked out the window, noticed it was getting dark, and so I headed to the "bus stop."

It's a line. Painted on the road. Almost in the ditch.

Talk about plenty of time to think. My Costa Rican experience must be preparing me for something, as nothing has prepared me for being in Costa Rica! The skies darkened, then clouded over, and the lightning started. Just sheet lightning, and I wasn't worried...until I looked up and realized I was standing under the powerlines that are everywhere, low, and seem to be sort of strung together by chance. More lines. Thankfully the bus came not long after that realization, and I was gone.

The next morning came very early. The Americans and other Canadian and I had planned to head to Volcan Irazu, and the bus left downtown San Jose at 8:00 am. Caught the bus to the group, caught a taxi to downtown, and then looked for the place to line up. Luisa had been awesome planning and implementing all of this, and so we followed her to the parque central, which was great to see. Eventually, we realized that both of our guidebooks pointed us to the same, wrong spot. We followed the line down to the SIGN that said Irazu, and waited there.

We made it to the Volcano, saw the craters, and I nearly died trying to climb a hill at 3432 m above sea level. That's 11,260 ft! Remember, I've grown up at about 577 m (1,893 ft). The lungs really weren't working well. The little tour guide book I bought says Irazu is still active, and I'll take their word for it. There wasn't much proof of anything. No lava, no steam, and even the lake that had formed in the basin of crater principal has dried up. Vanished. No one has a good explanation of where the lake came from, and no one knows where it went. It's Costa Rica. Strange things happen here.