Historias del autobus

So I pride myself in having a pretty good sense of direction. I hardly ever got lost in Venice, and I can remember how to get to places even if years have passed. But for the life of me, I cannot not get lost in Costa Rica. On the first day, my madre tica took me on the bus to and from la escuela. I told her I would be fine on my own. Y en el proximo dia, fui solo. I was not, however, prepared for all of the distractions on the bus. I kept looking out the window. The height of distraction was an advert on the back of the bus in front of me. It was for milk talking about how it was good for your bones. But it had a gingerbread cookie and you could see his skeleton and he was being dunked in a glass of milk. I thought it was hilarious. But it took me awhile to translate the Spanish, and the next thing I knew I was somewhere I had never been before. I asked the woman sitting next to me where I was and where that was in relation to where I wanted to be, and she gave me the international look for "Oh honey, you're completely lost." She was very kind and told the bus driver, and I went the end of the route, and then stayed on as the bus went in the other direction. Yo tuve la oportunidad para ver toda la ciudad. He then made it un punto a decime that this was mi pradada (which happens to be at the Subaru dealership. A major point of reference in San Jose).

You would then think that after this experience I would pay attention on the route. Such was not the case on Thursday when I went home on my won. I took the bus from the mall at 7:30 pm. Theoretically, the ride is 20 minutes. But there was a program on the television about a huge mural from clay. And it was a very interesting method. And cuando I looked up, I realized that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. So I went up to the bus driver (whose name I later found out was Roy) and he and another person kind of laughed because I had missed mi parada by A LOT. So again, I was to go with the bus until the end of the line, and then get my stop on the way back. So I
did, and at the end of the line un muchacho, Alberto, came on as well (He runs the hostel cerca de la escuala). And then the bus broke down. It had a gas leak. So Roy pulled over, and the three of us waited on the side of the road, in the dark, next to a bar, for a bus to pass us to pick us up. The first one completely ignored us. But the next one stopped. Yo dije adios a Roy (he had to stay with the broken down bus) and Alberto y yo fuimos en el otro autobus. Alberto stayed with me and told me when to get off *which I would have missed without him). I then managed to walk to the house on my own, and arrived past 9 pm. So a 20minute bus ride, in total, took 1.5 hours.

Oh well.... From the morning and the evening adventures, I have now seen la ruta de San Ramon in total.