By Terry Carlile
Driving in Costa Rica is an adventure worthy of its own chapter in the “Travel and Adventures” section of Howler. The conditions are as unpredictable as a soap opera plot twist, varying with your location, the time of day, and whether or not a herd of cows decides to stage a roadblock.
When faced with these challenges, it’s a Herculean task not to bombard yourself with questions like, “Why can’t they just scoot over a foot?” or “What was that motorcyclist thinking, trying to squeeze through there?” Indeed, maintaining a state of pura vida is an art form.
Here are two tales from my escapades last month:
First, as I approached Liberia airport, the road was a parking lot thanks to a fender bender in front of the Do It Center. Despite my best efforts to outsmart the 4 pm Waze red line, it was only 2 pm, and we were moving at a snail’s pace. Smoke billowed ahead, and as I neared the airport, both sides of the road were ablaze. Even air traffic schedules were thrown off by the smoke, and the high winds only fanned the flames.
Eventually, the accident came into view on my side of the road: three vehicles and a motorcycle policeman parked in front of the scene. And, predictably, no one was directing traffic. Southbound drivers continued their merry way until a kind soul decided to let a few cars through. You might wonder why they don’t direct traffic at accident scenes. The answer? A classic shrug of the shoulders.
It was smoky, hot, windy, and packed—my worst travel day from on that stretch from Communidad to Liberia.
Second story.
In Liberia, as I was making my grand exit from the bustling town center, I encountered the infamous single-lane bridge. It’s usually a scene of chaos, as the yield sign seems to be more of a suggestion than a rule. But on this particular early evening, the line was longer.
Curiosity got the better of me, so I hopped out of my car and strolled over to the bridge. There, I found a man changing his tire in the most inconvenient spot possible. Why he didn’t choose the clearing just 15 feet ahead is a mystery for the ages. Meanwhile, a symphony of honking erupted from both directions, surely motivating him to work at lightning speed—or not.
The man was busy scavenging lug nuts from his other tires to secure his spare. Yes, I know, another head-scratcher. So, I decided to lend a hand. I held up the spare tire and asked for the first lug nut, then two more. With the car finally secured and the honking crescendo reaching its peak, he lowered the car and drove off into the sunset.
This begs the question: why didn’t anyone closer to the action step up to help?
I adore Costa Rica. Living in Liberia and making the scenic drive to my office in Flamingo a couple of times a week is a joy, albeit with guaranteed traffic adventures. It requires patience, a dash of courtesy, and the ability to let go of those nagging “but why didn’t they…?” questions.
Sure, I could join the honking chorus, but perhaps I could be the one who helps instead of honks. It’s food for thought.
Note: I’m aware it’s illegal to move a vehicle after a fender bender, even if it’s the size of a quarter and causes a traffic jam of epic proportions. Yet another “why?” to ponder.
P.S. I moved from Houston and will gladly take any situation in Costa Rica over the Houston chaos anyday.
