Sometimes things don’t work out the way you plan. You put a lot of thought, preparation and effort into a venture and then it all falls apart. And you move on to Plan B.
And so it was many times during our recent trip to Costa Rica. The whole purpose of the trip was to meet up with our friend, Peter Brother, the intrepid cyclist who’s making his way from the Yukon in northern Canada to the southern tip of Argentina. We’d arranged our schedule to coincide with his arrival in Costa Rica. All that remained was to work out the details.
Or so we thought. A few days before our departure, Peter emailed to say he’d decided to stay in Nicaragua for a month. He had the opportunity to teach some yoga classes (he’s a yoga master) and was quite excited about it.
No problem, we thought.
Turns out, getting from one country to the other on short notice is not so simple, even though they border each other. After much discussion with our hotel reception, considering buses, reading and re-reading our travel guide, we decided to rent a car. Even that wasn’t going to be easy. We could book a car to get us to the border. We’d have to fill up the car in the last town before the border and then leave it with the car rental place at the border. Then we’d have to walk across the border to the other side where another car rental agency would meet us and provide us with another car. On the return, we’d have to repeat the process. And it would cost a small fortune.
Oh well, we thought. At least we’d get to see our friend.
So early one morning, we headed out. It was a beautiful drive and we were excited to be on an unexpected adventure. I’d been to the Costa Rica/Nicaragua border once before, ten years ago, so I knew it would be chaotic. Sure enough, there was a massive line of trucks waiting, not moving. We had to drive in the oncoming lane to get past them, a game of chicken that no one else seems to mind.
We couldn’t find the car rental place. The border road was under construction and the sides had been cut away leaving miniscule sloping paths down to small businesses. We dodged dump trucks and diggers, and finally stopped to ask a pedestrian where the car rental place was. We retraced our steps, heading down one of those narrow paths to an unsigned building that turned out to be the rental office.
We filled out some forms and went to the border office. The border official ran my passport through the machine and looked at me strangely. He asked in English, “Do you speak Spanish?”
“Yes,” I said, wondering what was coming.
Turns out you need a passport valid for 6 months in order to get into Nicaragua. Mine was only valid for two more months. So I was refused entry.
I argued, pleaded, used reason, did everything in my power (in fluent Spanish, of course), but to no avail.
Plan N(icaragua) was out.
We were on to … Plan X, or what you do when there is no plan.
Let the adventure begin!
Read Full Post »