Gringo Time

This past week was horrible.  The kids were SO bad.  They wouldn’t listen to anything I said.  They were getting out of their seats whenever they wanted, climbing up walls, screaming, throwing things, crying: it was madness.  In my eighty minute classes we only did about thirty minutes of “work”.  The rest of the time was spent just trying to keep order.  By the time the weekend came I badly needed a break from teaching, as well as from Vergel.  It still really bothers me that I can’t find privacy here.  All I wanted to do was sit around, relax, read, and hangout.  There is no way I can do that in Vergel without someone bugging me.   I couldn’t wait to get out of town.  

Ten of the other volunteers and I were going to meet in San Jose and have “Gringo time”. It had been almost two months since most of us had seen each other, and all we wanted to do was speak in English, eat something other than rice and beans, and maybe drink some beers.  After class friday I rushed home, threw some cloths in a bag, and caught the first bus out of Vergel.  I fell asleep in my seat almost instantly, and stayed that way for almost four hours. I was woken up, however, when the bus made an unscheduled stop just outside of San jose in a town called Cartago.  I looked out the window to see what was going on, and noticed there were policemen everywhere.  One of the police men, armed with a machine gun, entered the bus and said that all foreigners needed to take out their passports.  As I was reaching for my bag I realized that I did not have my passport.  My passport was in San Jose going through a process to get a visa, and the consularized copy, that I was supposed to be carrying, was in Vergel.  In my rush to get out of town, I had forgotten it on my bed.           

If you get caught without a passport in costa rica you are taken into custody immediately, and most times have to spend the night in jail.  So I’m freaking out!! I frantically dig through my bag looking for any kind of ID possible.  I pull out my cloths and books, and ask the man next to me if he could hold on to them while I searched.  I pulled my head out from inside my bag, the machine gun-clad police officer was only two rows away and I still hadn’t found anything resembling an ID.  Luckily, just as he arrived at my seat, I found two credit cards and my WorldTeach ID, which is just a laminated piece of paper with my name and picture.  I looked up at the officer sheepishly as I handed him the documents.  He took one glance at them, then stared down at me as if he was saying “seriously, this is what you’re giving me?”.  He began to look annoyed, and his machine gun was really intimidating, so I started to talk.  I explained to him that I was a teacher in La zona sur (the southern zone), and that I did not have my passport because it was being processed for a visa.  He snapped back at me saying “where in La zona sur do you live!?”  I said “I live in a small pueblo near the town of Palmar Norte”, the whole time thinking myself O God please don’t shoot me!! Then he said “where? what is town called?!”  I said “Vergel”. As soon as I said this I noticed his irritable tone turn to affable. He said “Oh, Vergel, do you know Dona Eliza?” I quickly responded “yes yes I live with her, she my host mother, as well as the director of my school.”  He said “ahhhh yea... tell her so and so (I cant remember his name) says hello”. Then he handed me back my credit cards and WT ID, and exited the bus.  

I was at a crowded police checkpoint four and a half hours away from my tiny village, and the officer who just happen to inspect my bus, also just happen to know my host mother. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.  Not only that I didn’t get arrested, but also that I lived with such a well know and respected lady.  

While driving away from the checkpoint the reality of the situation began to sink in, and I began to put had just happened into perspective.  I thought about what might have happened if the officer hadn’t known Dona Eliza.  I pictured myself getting handcuffed, put in the back of a police car, and thrown in jail for a few days.  I thought how awful that would have been.  Then I thought about where I had just come from; and the madness that Is Escuela El Vergel.  Being throw in jail started not to sound half bad.  At least then I would have gotten a vacation from teaching for a few days.