Hola everybody,
Thanks for putting up with my cranky mood and the negative sound of my last email. Things were not going as I am used to here and actually were not going well at all. I did get to be voluntarily bumped in Houston, Texas, where I imagined and looked forward to having some quiet, unrushed time to read, watch TV and fall asleep for 12 hours. Instead, I got a terribly painful migraine headache, mild food poisoning, and spent the night shivering on the cold, tile bathroom floor, either throwing up or writhing in pain. I did fall asleep by 5:30 am, and woke up at 7:30 am, knowing that I had to leave the hotel in 30 minutes. My point is that it was not the fresh start that I had wanted.
Then my days in and around San Jose were spent in cabs and on buses and trying to find different locations. I did attend the party on the 4th of July and within four minutes of conversation got a job offer with a company that runs some kind of online gambling business, but their offices are near the airport in some industrial building. I’m not sure if their business is legit so I steered clear of that.
I mentioned that I met a woman who ran a Bed & Breakfast and had an apartment that I considered renting if I were to stay near the city. Anyone who knows me well will remember that I have a negative view of BnBs, thinking it odd for people to open their homes to strangers, unless they are the super-nurturing type who love to cater to travelers. The two BnB owners who I have met seem put out that someone would actually be in their home and definitely don’t seem to have the same definition of breakfast that I hold. I’ve never been so hungry as the nights I’ve spent in B&Bs. In movies, a BnB owner or kindly caretaker will make a guest a sandwich at the very least. The first BnB I went to was on my way out of Costa Rica in May. I arrived at her place around 9 p.m. (late because the public bus I rode had run out of gas). I was counting on dinner but when I asked about it, she simply said, Öh, I don’t think so.”
At this last one that I stayed, the owner said, “I don’t know what you’re going to do for food, cuz I don’t have any here. But there is a little store just down the hill, and if you’re going there, get me some cigarettes.”
This was called Debbie King’s Country Inn, I’m going to write about it in order to warn other travelers and would-be guests. All she did was talk about herself, brag about herself, and drop names and titles of celebrities, royalty, doctors and others who were deeply, madly, truly in love with her. I felt like I was trapped at a relative’s house, just sitting there, nodding politely, saying “Oh really?” and, “Wow, that’s great.”
I could not wait to get out of there, but it was too far to walk to anything, and even the bus stop was a taxi ride away. I really was trapped. One my first morning, Debbie was going into the city for a doctor’s appointment (Yes, all the doctors love her and are competing to date her but she says that she simply does not have the time.) I rode into town with her and she acted like I should pay her or that she had done me the biggest favor. She brought it up all day long. This was Thursday. I was not feeling well, so instead of staying in the city and meeting my true friends, I walked to the first bus, caught the second bus, walked to the cab and got a ride back to her place – only to find that no one was home and the door was locked.
I knew that was bad because I did not know when she would be back and the only phone was inside the locked house. I was miles from any other phone and it was cold out. Plus, I had come back early because I did not feel well and just wanted to lie down and rest. I sat outside trying to stay warm. Then it started to rain.
Debbie came back 90 minutes later. I walked up to her car expecting her to apologize profusely and try to win back my friendship or good feelings. Instead she said, “Oh, I thought you would come back later, you would not believe the day I’ve had…” and then she went on to tell me every detail, some more than once, especially the parts about the doctors, and how they rearrange their schedules for her, and are glad to because they are Capricorns.
That’s when I thought that if I could get out of there immediately, I would. I was still tired so instead of paying more to get a cab to get to the bus to get to a hotel, I decided to eat and go to bed early. That’s when she told me I was on my own for food. So I did walk down the hill but before I got to the bottom, I saw two large German Shepards behind a split-rail fence that I knew could not hold them. They proved me right when they jumped through the fence and came running out toward me. I yelled at them and they retreated, but I did not try to get to the little store. I went back to Debbie’s and she laughed at me for being afraid of dogs. She said that she knew those dogs and that they never get out of the yard. I told her that they did just that.
Later, one of the employees who maintains the property/coffee farm, brought in one of my Teva sandals. I had left them outside because they had gotten wet in the rain and I did not want Ms. Jerk to scold me for tracking in mud, which she would surely have done. I asked where my other sandal was, she told me that I should know better than to leave shoes around – the dogs just think they are toys.
Ï foolishly expected her to apologize for the dog’s behavior or at least help me look for my other sandal. It was late enough to be dark but I wanted to pack so I could leave quickly in the morning. I went outside to look for my sandal. She yelled to me that it was a full moon and that I would never find it. I figured if it were a full moon, I might have a chance to find it but I just looked around where it should be, on the lighted patio.
I went to my room without it, considering it an acceptable loss if I could just get out of there. I began to write on my laptop. I started to record the events that had made it such a bad day. Then the electricity went out. Again, I expected my gracious hostess to have some concern for her guest. Instead, she yelled up the stairs to tell me that the electricity had gone out. This I knew. She still did not make any type of assurance or question if I needed or wanted anything. She only said that she could not know when it would go back on.
I decided that I wanted be unconscious for as much time as possible until I left. I lay down to try to sleep. It was 8:55. At 9:00, Debbie yelled that a dog was missing. I figured that she would find her quickly, but she did not. After about three minutes, I got out of bed to help her look, first inside, then outside. She started accusing me off letting the dog out when I went to look for my sandal. Then she starting yelling at me, claiming that she had told me not to go outside because the dogs might get out and it was a full moon and that the rain had brought out the poisonous frogs. Then she yelled at me in Spanish, which I fully understood. She was using some strong language to accuse me of knowing that I had I been told not to open the door but did anyway because I was some screwed-up American who couldn’t wait one bleeding second to get some piece of garbage sandal – a sandal that could be replaced not like her most precious dog – the best dog in the world – the most sweet, innocent dog, her baby, the precious creature that could never hurt anyone and was so dependent on her for the world that she would never go far so the fact that the dog was not coming when called meant that she had touched a poisonous frog and was dead somewhere underneath the full moon.
I could not believe what a nightmare this was already, and what it would become. I allowed a bit more of the verbal abuse because I understand the emotional pain of missing or worrying about a lost pet. But enough is enough, and I had had enough before the lights had gone out.
I did not know whether or not I had actually let the dog out when I went outside. I doubt that I had as I was very aware of the presence of dogs after being scared by the big dogs down the hill. Still, I searched for the dog so as to end the nightmare. It was even colder outside at night of course, and my other clothes were already wet. I was wearing shorts, a light top and sandals (the pair that the dogs had not stolen). It was raining, windy and cold, but I preferred to be outside looking for the dog, rather than to be inside listening to a crazy woman scream and holler about things that she had said 18 times already. Her constant repetition drove me as crazy as anything.
Here’s a quick wrap up as my Internet time is ending: I quit looking for the dog around midnight, I calmed Debbie with some reasoning and sympathy, and said a prayer for the safe return of the dog at daylight. I woke up at 5 and somehow heard a soft bark. Outside the door was the little dog, safe and sound, acting like nothing had happened.
I had sworn that I would stay until the dog was found, unhappy that it might be days. Fortunately the dog came back at daylight, I had 10 minutes to get ready for my cab and I shot out of there promising to call and then come back. Sucker!
Oh, did I mention that she pulled a gun on me?
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