What are we doing in Costa Rica?

This story is a few weeks old, but I didn’t want to neglect it:

As we came down out of the mountains on our way to San José from La Fortuna, the first substantial city we entered was San Ramon, the place we were to meet up with the interstate highway. As soon as we were within the city limits, we were flagged down by the transit police. Right away I had a lump in my throat, since I was driving with an expired license. Maybe they won’t care. It’s not a Costa Rican license anyway. By the way, this was one of those things on my getting-ready list that slipped through the cracks.

Señor Transit Police was middle-aged with gray hair. His English was just as bad as my Spanish, which is to say bad. He double- and triple-checked: “¿No habla español?” Of course he noticed right away that my license was expired. He seemed incredulous that I would just grimace and nod, and not try to make an excuse or beg for mercy (maybe it was just that I didn’t know the Spanish for “mercy”). He indicated that he was going to write a ticket, and still I just nodded and said “Sí, claro.” Nonplussed, he said he would go get his friend, who could speak English. I was beginning to wonder if they were going to take my family of four “downtown.”

I don’t know if Señor Transit Police numero dos could speak English, but he certainly didn’t attempt it. What he did do, was to ask for twenty thousand colones (equivalent to forty U.S. dollars) and insist that Elizabeth drive instead. Elizabeth and I started digging through our pockets. Between the two of us, we had around four dollars. I said I needed an ATM (Necesito un cajero automatico). He conferred with his partner, who said “¡Que lastima!” Various internet searches suggest that this either means “What a pity!” or “I’m in pain!” Take your pick.

The first cop came back to the window. He said he was going to help us by letting us go. I wasn’t sure I heard him right. I think what I said to him translates as “I can let’s go?!”

As I pulled cautiously away from the curb and took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths, Eliabeth said, “Was that a shakedown?” The fog in my head began to clear. “Yeah, I think it was.” Welcome to San Ramon, gringos.

This entry was posted on Friday, July 25th, 2008 at 11:06 pm and is filed under Culture Shock, Excursions, Habla Español.You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.