Costa Rica Trip '08, Part II

3-5 April (cont.)

I write now from the Autotransportes Blanco station.  We are on our way... or will be soon.  The taxi ride through San Jose reminded me that I wanted to write about the traffic here.

I am amazed that people here get around with - apparently - no accidents.  Through all the unbelievably dangerous driving we've experienced so far, we haven't seen a single accident.  Thinking of it now does make me shudder at the prospect of the bus ride.  Like our other automotive forays so far, I'm sure we'll arrive safely at our intended destination.  On the traffic itself, though: there seem to be no traffic laws to speak of.  There are no lanes, only a few lines, and not many more traffic lights.  Yet somehow, it all works.  It's like the "ordered chaos" you always hear people talking about.  That's also the phrase I use to describe my room, coincidentally.  So my room is as structured as San Jose traffic...?  Oddly appropriate.  (On a side note, we are apparently waiting for the bus directly opposite a woman scientist.  She looks like a scientist.)

So, ordered chaos.  I don't feel uncomfortable admitting there's a strange sort of beauty in seeing such a mess work so perfectly.  Maybe it's the ever-emerging engineer in me.  Somehow the idea of being able to fit anywhere from one to four lanes of cars in the same space makes me smirk and giggle to myself.  Maybe it's part mild culture shock and part novelty. I don't feel culture shocked, though.

[...]

And now we are well and properly on our way.  We've been on the bus for nearly four hours and, with the exception of the city we just stopped in, the landscape has grown progressvely wilder.  I snapped a few pictures, but I'm afraid they won't come out.

More later - bumps making writing tough. (1550, 5 April)

--On the Bus / Nightfall--

More erratic writing - still on the bus.  The bus is interesting.  It's quite a bit nicer than expected, since we expected an old American school bus.  But no, we have fairly comfortable seats and, although the engine is loud and the windows rattle, it's not a bad ride.  When someone wants to pass the bus, [the bus driver] checks the oncoming traffic and waves them on it's safe.  The acknowledge eachother with a honk - ours is a great goose-sounding honk, more than loud enough to stir me from any napping.  We stop for everyone.  Some of them are vendors with food, some are people just getting a leg up on the trip home.

Jesse said it best earlier: "It gets prettier every time I open my eyes."  As profound as it sounds, he was actually talking about waking from a nap.  But either way, it's absolutely true. The scenery here takes my breath away.  The stars ay be the only greater testament to the power, flory, and aesthetic taste of God.  (1756, 5 April)

--At the Lodge--

Finally free from that rickety bus ride!  The last hour or so was more stressful than the rest since we had no clue how far we were from anything.  The original plan was to spend tonight in Puerto Jimenez, but that would have required a long and expensive cab ride back to the trailhead in La Palma.  So instead, we disembarked in La Palma, resolved to walk the 1.8-ish miles to the lodge if necessary.  Thank God we were met at the stop by a taxi driver!  The ride itself was taken in the back of his pickup, allowing us to see clearly the numerous times we would have risked mugging by walking.  It seems at every turn that the Lord is protecting us on this journey.  I look forward to witnessing the splendor of His creation in the days to come.

But for now, I'm relaxing after a long day of travel.  The lodge we're in tonight is made totally from wood, and what's more, wood from trees that were already and naturally felled only.  Not a single tree was cut down to build this place.  And it's magnificent!  Already, since our arrival, we've seen lizards hunting and playing, heard monkeys in the nearby woods and seen a bug literally as big as my head, although Jesse thinks (and I now agree) that it's probably a bat.  There's so much life here!  Even just sitting here in what I'll call, for want of a better word, the living room.  The constant chirruping of the crickets is punctuated now and again by the croaking of frogs the likes of which I've never heard.  Now if only we could do something about that awful music from the fiesta...  (2100, 5 April)

PS - It's definitely a bat.  We just got buzzed.