It seems my body really doesn’t want to go to Costa Rica – for the last week it has been fighting against me. Whether it’s backache, headache, toothache or a last minute cold, an unhealthy dose of Lemsip Max got me onto the plane without the officials grounding me under suspicion of Swine Flu.
The second bout of officialdom involved explaining away to immigration why I have eleven flights booked under the same ticket with no current means of income or pending job. Apparently it’s now also suspicious to only have a relatively small item of luggage for a two month trip.
The transatlantic flight was great, but for the Newark to San José leg I somehow got sat in the midst of a 40-strong rowdy family. The entire 5 hour flight was spent with their plaid checked fat bottoms perched either on the edge of my armrest or worse on my shoulder.
Our arrival in Costa Rica was pretty low key. We were met at the airport and shuttled over to a hostel on the outskirts of San José. Nothing exciting in itself, but it was just round the corner from a 6ftx6ft McDonalds and a 9-5 automated teller machine, which suggested it wasn’t entirely automated and probably had a little chap sat inside dishing out the notes.
The next day we were given a detailed introduction to the country, which pretty much ran to use your common sense and try not to die. The briefing was swiftly followed by a bus ride out to visit the project I’d be working on for the next 8 weeks. This was essentially a bare patch of ground that had to be turned into a house for a little old lady by the end of October. Given that my construction skills extend mostly to Lego I decided to build her a multicoloured tower using all the bricks in the box but thankfully a real builder was on hand with some plans and to explain about foundations and reinforced concrete walls. Despite his reassurances it all looked a lot more complicated than your standard IKEA flat pack but I thought that between the three of us volunteers we’d sort something out. This is when he broke the news that I was the most sensible looking (of an obviously bad bunch) so would be able to take this one on with a four competent seeming but non-English speaking Costa Ricans for company, whilst the other two got sent to a different site. From chatting later it seems I got the most picturesque site by far, but that was little consolation for the realisation that I was probably going to kill a little old lady with shoddy building work.
We then headed back to San Ramon, my home for the next two months, to meet the family I’d be staying with. This was initially rather depressing. They’re a lovely couple with 2 sons,a daughter and a scrappy little chihuahua. They’ve got a reasonable house (again built by volunteers), but my room is a 7ftx6ft wooden box containing a bed, a shelf and no electricity.
