The top 5 most annoying things about Costa Rica

Since I'm now just over the half-way mark of my time down here, I figured it would be good to sit back and reflect on the first two months. Lest you think I'm lounging away in paradise, Costa Rica is far from perfection, and has many frustrating aspects that I didn't foresee beforehand. And since, starting this weekend with my parents, we're soon to have a lot of visitors, I figured I'd give everyone a heads up on what to expect. Thus, I present to you, the top 5 most annoying things about Costa Rica.

1. Traffic/Tico drivers: Someone told me that "Costa Rica is fun... once you learn to drive like a Tico." But I don't think such skills could be taught. This isn't India, mind you, but it's not far off, and a far cry from what I found in Chile.

The biggest problem, though, isn't the drivers. It's the roads. San Jose's infrastructre was built long before the population skyrocketed to the 1 million-plus currently residing in the metro area. The same rings true for the country in general--it has largely overgrown its initial infrastructure development, and the roads and highways haven't caught up. If you're a Sacramentan, think of the stretch of I-80 right before Cal Expo (where, for some reason, they think an arena should go) where there is traffic at all hours of the day. Now, extrapolate that across an entire city, only the people drive like maniacs. That's San Jose.

I used to hate the honking, but when you're in a cab and some idiot is blocking the only lane in the street so he can run into the local convenience store to buy ciagarettes (there is no parallel parking here), by all means, I say, lay on the horn. Speaking of cabs...

2. Sketchy cab drivers: Taxi drivers in Costa Rica recently went on strike because they felt the government wasn't doing enough to crack down on the piratas, or unoffical, non-sanctioned taxi drivers. But, as far as I can tell, even offically liscenced taxis (you can tell because they're all painted red with a yellow seal on the side) aren't the most scrupulous bunch. Especially at night, they'll come up with some reason that they can't use their maria, or meter, and will charge you some arbitrary, absurd amount to rip you off. The worst are the vultures that cluster outside bus stops, hawking their services to the desperate, unwary tourist. Now, I've made it a habit to walk a few blocks away from the bus station and just hail a cab from the street. So far, that's worked.

3. Unreliability, or Tico time: No, not The Tico Times. But "Tico time" -- the fact that most Ticos run 15 minutes to a half hour late. I've had interviewees make me wait over an hour in their office, then tell me they're busy and would call me later. I've seen government press conferences start 40 minutes late, and arrived at the airport at noon only to learn that the press conference I was told was at 12:30 was, in fact, at 2:30. For a country that seems to eschew all things "complicated" they could do a little more to help themselves out.

4. Arbitrary adherence to random rules and regulations: This one is also somewhat transit related, as I can't count the number of times I'm on the bus, and it pulls into the stop behind another bus or taxy, but the driver won't open the doors. Instead, he'll wait the several minutes it takes for the previous bus to fully unload and load. Then he will pull up only a couple feet and open the doors, as if the small space made all the difference in the world. And yet the same driver will stop traffic if he pulls up to another bus at a red light and will chat away with the adjacent bus driver long after the light turns green.

But it's not just buses. Press secretaries will make me formally arrange an interview with a government minister or submit emails, giving me the bureaucratic run-around to ensure that whatever quotes I get are unoffensive, proper, and completely useless, only to have the minister give me his cell phone number and spout off, completely breaking the party line.

5. Prices: To be fair, this is more of a misconception than anything. But Costa Rica is not a bargain. If you're looking for dirt cheap travel, go to Nicragua. Costa Rica is wealthier and more stable than its neighbors, and such is the price of development, apparently, that things simply cost more. While you can get a solid lunch for 1,700 colones (about $3) its almost always going to be chicken, rice, and beans, and something more spectacular will set you back more. While it's still way cheaper than the U.S., I guess it's just more expensive than I thought it would be. Or maybe it's my pittance of an intern salary is going faster than I thought it would...

Observation of the day, 1/28

The radio on the bus was blaring "Billie Jean" on the ride home this evening.


Who says globalization isn't great?

Picture of the Day

Protectionism? Or unjustified putdown of 90s r&b superstars?

Another Bus Experience (or two, or three)

I went out to Escazu the other day to do some reporting at the MultiPlaza Escazu, a giant mall which apparently expreiced some chaos during the quake last week (they did). To get there, since its a pretty nice suburb outside of San Jose (Avalon's going to be working out there, so I expect she'll blog about it) I had to take a bus. While I've seen some guys bring guitars on buses and perform, there was an old man on the Escazu bus who took mass transportation entreprenurship to a whole new level.

He got on with a variety of stuff, ranging from Dora the Exporer stickers, to sewing needles, to children's pencils with the big, fancy erasers, to some sort of toolkit. Then, he gave some long schpiel which I couldn't really understand. But, surprisingly enough, the Costa Ricans loved it. Or at least liked it enough to purchase some of his wares. I guess he had something for the whole family.

It may be a cultural thing. I remember in Chile, whether it would be kids who came and performed some odd tricks in the middle of traffic, or simply an old woman begging for spare change, my host mother would always give some monedas. It could be the strong religious affinity for helping the poor, or simply the realization that their governments don't provide much in the way of social welfare--or maybe they're just entertained and figure these people provide some sort of service. Either way, I've yet to hear a Costa Rican yell, "Get a job you lazy bums!"

Speaking of bus experiences, yesterday, I went out to the airport for an interview (and I won't get into the fact that once I got there they told me I needed my passport to get in, and once I finally came back with my passport, they didn't even check for it...).

Also, I took the wrong bus home on Monday, and, while we passed by my neighborhood, I couldn't tell because, well, I'm still new here and the bus was filled with people so I couldn't really see out. Long story short, the bus simply stopped in some random place and everyone got out. I had no idea where I was, but luckily a nice family approached me in English, told me I wasn't far from my destination, and pointed out a nicely-lit corner to wait for the next bus or cab. See, not all bus experiences are bad!

Rumble in the Jungle

A flag flies half mast in front of Costa Rica's Supreme Court. Just like it took me a few days to blog about the quake, it took Costa Rica's president a couple days to finally declare a state of emergency and begin an official national mourning period.

By now, many of you have heard about the earthquake that hit Costa Rica last week. I'm fine, thanks to those who have asked. I would have written more about it sooner, but, of course, working at a newspaper means that when there's a crisis, there's a lot of work. And then it was my first weekend in Costa Rica, so Avalon and I obviously went to the beach.

But I digress. Simply put, the earthquake was a surreal experience. At first it felt just like a large truck driving by, then things kept shaking... and shaking... and shaking. For some reason, the earthquake lesson that flashed into my head was to get under a sturdy door frame. Apparently the head editor at the Tico Times scrambled under his desk (which is the right thing to do) in about half a second. That must have been a sight...

While we were shaken up a bit, the office was entirely unscathed. Some parts of San Jose had small bits of damage, but I haven't seen much first hand. We did see scores of Ticos out in the streets for hours afterward, using the quake as a good excuse to take the rest of the day off. I would have, too, except when you're in the newspaper business, an earthquake means more work.

For the first day, I mostly helped out two of the staff reporters get updates online. The paper only comes out once a week, but we knew that with an event such as this that makes world news people were going to be interested. Then on Friday I worked on a short story about how the internet has completely transformed the way news of the quake broke. I know these stories are a bit cliche, but it was fascinating watching the dynamics on Web sites such as Twitter and Facebook, as people turned to the Web to share news and get info when traditional means, such as phone lines, were down after the quake. For now, part of my story is online here. The rest should be up Friday.

Today, I went up to a mall in Escazu, a slightly more well-off suburb of San Jose, to report on the earthquake's affects there. We had heard rumors that the place had been a mad house, with people panicking like crazy. Turns out that the rumors were mostly true. Several shopkeepers I talked to had stories about people dashing out of the Food Court, leaving their meals steaming at the table, taking no heed to the "don't panic" rule, and ignoring broken glass from windows and skylights. A man who worked in the movie theater even told me about some parents abandoning their kids in the frezy; he said he had to help the kids find their parents afterward.

That story's not out yet, and may not even be a story--some quotes may be fed into the larger earthquake piece, and some quotes may simply be part of a sidebar. This is my first real professional experience doing team coverage and it's been fun. Even if the couple hours I spent reporting at the mall turns into a paragraph or two that simply add color to the main story, then it's still worth it. I'll post more stories of mine when they come out, and keep checking The Tico Times for general updates.

Where the streets have no name

Oh, Bono. You do all your wonderful work in Africa, but your legacy truly lives on in Costa Rica.

It's almost been four whole, official days here, and I'm starting to get my lay of the land in San Jose... well, starting to at least. The city has a very complex way of navigating things. All north-south roads are "calles" while "avenidas" run east-west. All are numbered, except that north of the "avenida central" the avenidas are odd numbers, south of center they are even. Similarly, the calles west of "calle central" are even, while those east are odd. Eventually, you can figure this out. Then everything's bien, no?

Well, to make things worse, street signs are few and far between, and few cab drivers know streets by their number. Instead, directions are often given by distance from a certain landmark (our hostel, for example, is 225 m north of Parque Morazan). So, once you finally figure out the grid, the moment you get into a cab you must unlearn what you have learned. For a country that eschews all things "complex" (more on that later), I found this system puzzling to say the least.

No army does not = no guns

(Disclaimer: I hope this post doesn't scare anyone. I feel completely safe, and it's just a funny thing I've noticed. Mom, I'm fine, don't worry.)

Other than its beautiful beaches and pristine rain forests, one of Costa Rica's unique traits is that it has no standing army. Apparently fed up with the violence of its civil war in 1948, the government disbanded the military, and declared itself officially neutral. Apparently this has worked, as, unlike its neighbors, Costa Rica has not suffered a civil war since.

One thing I've noticed during my first day and a half here, however, is that no military does not equal no guns. We've seen plenty of police on the streets (and that's not a bad thing, they're helpful enough and not entirely intimidating, actually seeming to make people feel safer), but there are a lot of private gun owners, too. More interestingly, a lot of shops have private, often undercover security guards. "That guy was definitely strapped," Avalon observed after we walked past one cafe with a burly man standing guard outside.

The most extreme example so far, however, would have to be the guy standing outside a gas station as we were hailing a cab back to our hotel last night. He spotted one for us, and asked if we wanted it. Completely helpful, friendly, and nice--if you can get over the large rifle he had slung over his shoulder.

For more background, check out this article from one of my co-workers (well, I technically start Monday) at the Tico Times. And again, Mom, if you're reading this, don't worry about me. While I've heard some horror stories about crime in San Jose, I've felt really safe so far.

Para comenzar (to begin)

Dear readers, I'm now settled in a hostel in charming downtown San Jose, and of course my primary concern is getting the blog up and running. While I was tempted to continue my old travel blog (fitzinchile.blogspot.com) I thought it may be confusing to have Chile in the address while I'm in Costa Rica. Thus, I now present, patfitz.blogspot.com. Easy to remember, and a blog I can now keep my whole life (while I reclaim my name from this fellow). I'll do my best to update constantly with pictures, anecdotes, and observations from my Costa Rican adventures. In the meantime, feel free to comment and add suggestions, whether about Costa Rica (there's a lot of you who've been here already) or blogging. I look forward to writing, and hopefully you look forward to reading. Hasta luego!