costa rica. february 2021. anisha. sámara.

After having spent the most amazing week camping (another story for another time), Anisha and I decided to leave Sámara. Our next stop should be Montezuma. Busses and public transportation in Central America are not the most reliable ones, as I’ve told you before, so the obvious choice was to hitchhike. We had done it many times before, just never for that long. We had 155km to kill. There is definitely a risk to it – trusting strangers – and putting your life into their hands. The risky things in life are often the funniest ones too though and always make the best stories.

With our 4 backpacks we stood on the side of the road, leading out of our favourite beach town on earth, at 10am in the burning hot sun. It was a fork of a road and the road signs weren’t very helpful, so we were just guessing and manifesting that the road would lead in the right direction. Our first driver was an American elderly man who had studied in Germany. He was excited to have met Austrians so we conversed for 1,5 hours in perfect denglish. I cannot remember much he told me, I just know that I felt calm and peaceful. The car looked more than safe and it was an expensive one too, which is definitely a rare sight in Costa Rica. Also the fact that he was a man with european manners gifted me inner peace. What I mean, is that we were conversing about the nature, the place, the food, the culture – intellectual topics – and it was nice for a change to know that the intention of the conversation wasn’t having sex. Often in Costa Rica I had made the experience that the machismo just took over everything. Obviously not every tico (costa-rican) is like that, but there are some very different values deeply implanted into their culture. Machismo is one of them.

The American took us even further than he had to go, to ensure we would end up in a place where we could catch our next ride easily. Stranded – again – in front of a McDonalds the first thing we did was pee. Then we bought a water and crossed the street were we held out our thumb once again. Our next chauffeur was a woman, well dressed in an expensive car too – a tica – who still wore the make-up of her night shift. She warned us about how dangerous hitchhiking could be. We knew that, but sometimes in life you just got to take risks to make memories and live memorable adventures. She was friendly too and dropped us off half an hour later. 2 hours into our tour we grew really hungry but didn’t feel like spending loads of money, so we waited. That’s another (not very healthy, but sometimes necessary) trick while backpacking: having a big breakfast and waiting until the late afternoon to have another big meal. Saved us a lot of money. Listening to your body and only eating when you truly are hungry.

Many cars passed the shoulder of road we were standing on, without stopping. The main clue about hitchhiking is to not give up. It teaches you an immense amount of patience and how to maintain your happiness in difficult situations. As fun as it is, after waiting an hour in the sun with the heavy backpack and spending so much energy on trying to stop a car with charm and a big smile, you do feel drained. So when the next car halted we were more than thankful once again. By February, my Spanish skills were immense, so I was the one conversing to the drivers. When I got on the passenger seat this time, I immediately regretted it. I sat next to a man who looked like he hadn’t showered in days, wearing a dirty while tee, his greasy hair sticking to his forehead. I just send a prayer to the universe that we would get out of that car again. As risk protection and avoidance I grew to be very cautious – a key factor in Central America for me. So when this man pulled into a small street that didn’t coincide with the offline road map I was using, the alarm bells in my head immediately went off. We parked in front of a company – at least 10 men chilling outside – and he told us, he just had to get something and that we should wait for him. Other than get out and find another hitchhiker, we didn’t have much of a choice but to trust in the universe once again and wait. The muchacho came out again we drove on. I started to relax a bit because we were conversing quite nicely when he pulled into a small dirt road. I thought my heart might jump out. This time I expressed my concerns and asked him where we were going – turned out: it was just the shops. Then, finally after another half hour or so we had reached our destination – his home. He introduced us to his wife who was such an incredibly warm person and they wanted to invite us for lunch and offered us loads of good stuff. This taught me how stereotypes and fear can cloud your mind. The man turned out to be one of the nicest locals I met on my trip. He pointed out to his wife how much he liked us being cautious and me “checking on him”. He too acknowledged what an important attribute that represented.

We declined their lunch offer, a dumb choice looking back on it, and did what we could best – stand on the road and smile. Girls do undoubtedly have an advantage concerning that in Central America (I won’t elaborate on the same phenomenon in Europe). We met boys who complained about us girls having an advantage if only we used it right. And we did. From getting tickets for boat tours half price in Panama, to receiving free shots in clubs in Mexiko etc. it was easier for us to close nice deals. Although, and here is the catch, almost everything comes at a price: some of these local men helping you, pretending to be so warm and kind, hope that you will offer yourself to them after closing the deal.

We waited for another half hour in the midday sun. It took longer to catch a ride this time because vehicles passed infrequently, and when we heard a motor approach we were often disappointed to see a noisy motorbike that would not hold three of us and 4 backpacks. We were more than surprised when a small truck held and the driver announced to us that he was a baker on his tour delivering his bread. He put our backpacks in the back of the truck, which turned out to be a -12°C cold loading area to keep his bread fresh. We squeezed in next to him and had beautiful conversations. Costa Rica undoubtedly has the most beautiful nature!! but they have a huge problem with littering too. The education on recycling or even just throwing your trash into a garbage can is quite limited. Countless times I saw ticos and ticas lighting a pile of trash on the side of the road. I won’t ever forget that metallic smell. While immensely enjoying the ride with this beautiful soul, we saw wildfires in the forest. He explained, that it was even harder for him seeing this as a retired bombero (fireman). He had worked as a bombero his whole life, just to deliver bread in his 70s to keep providing for his family. The poverty was overwhelming at times. Every time this man took a turn he explained to us where we going to make us feel safe. I appreciated this human deeply.

the end of the world. He drove his tour, which wasn’t the quickest way for us but an interesting and safe choice. On this tour he took us to the end of the world. Literally. The dirt road was winding and twisting and it took us deeper and deeper into the country side. After 45 minutes we arrived. Separated from the real world through the windshield of the truck we watched 3 little girls bicker while their father bought bread. The neighbourhood we had arrived in, cannot be compared to anything a have ever seen before. The houses were built of mere wood panels and some of them didn’t even have doors. Somehow I had forgotten that children exist in every corner of the world. Far off from the next village, without money for a car and therefore cut off from any chance to receive scholar education, these kids were raised by their parents who maybe even hadn’t received scholar education themselves. While working in a school in Tamarindo in April and May I learned that child abuse is a huge issue in Costa Rica. Especially poorer families who simply could not afford education, raised their kids like they had been raised by their parents. Another story for another day. My own ignorance and lack of spending thought on the topic, lead to me being hugely surprised that at, what I metaphorically called the end of the world, we found kids.

I can’t remember how that ride ended but we had received bread – our first meal in hours – and the water in our backpacks, which had been stored in the cooling department of the truck, tasted… I cannot find the words to describe it. The feeling of drinking cold water on a summer day that squeezes out every last drop of salt your body stores, is simply indescribable. The last ride too was a full success. A mom with her two girls aged about 8 and 16 stopped, because the older daughter convinced her mom. Grinning widely, we climbed into the SUV. We could not believe our luck. Together with the girls we screamed our lungs out to the latest pop songs on the radio and compared the European and Latino taste in music. A scene that warmed my heart and reminded me of what real safety felt like. I loved it.

Thank you to these beautiful souls who made our trip unforgettable. You taught us a good amount of life and thank you for keeping us safe.