As we approached the ticket counter, we were told that we need our passports in order to purchase return bus tickets. The walk back to the inn seemed longer than it was because the sun felt hotter than Africa! Among inner city black folks we always describe hot weather as “hotter than Africa.” Well, I’ll tell you this, I went to West to Africa, and the weather is tamer in comparison to New York City but I digress. As we walked back to the inn to grab our passports, I dragged my dusty feet in my worn out beach slippers, carrying with me a Gap butt pack, in it my Visa Credit card, Nikon D50 with 5O mm prime lens and cash (Dollars, Cordobas, and Colons.) We returned to the inn, gathered our passports and then went back to the bus station.
So far Costa Rica had been a “ball”: the innkeeper laughing at me and refusing to take my United States Dollars because of its plummeting value, the foods, my new Saprissa soccer jersey, the exciting yet laborious trip across the Nicaragua/Costa Rican border, the two female tourist we met two nights prior and shared a hotel room with, the garden like inn in which we stayed etc.
By this time I was hungry and I settled for a plate of rice and peas with chicken which I took on the bus. Dan sat in the window seat and I on the isle. I prefer isle seats on any type of coach, simply because I may be a tad bit cluster phobic; additionally, I dislike having to swoop by the person(s) in my row when I have to go to the bathroom.
As I fumbled about on the uncomfortable bus ride, I placed my butt pack in the over head and begun to devour the overcooked peas and rice with tasty chicken. While the bus made designated stops along the way. At approximately 15 minutes out of town, I heard a loud banging on the back door and from the little I understood the person(s) was asking to be let off before we arrived at the next bus stop.
Never the less, the banging on the back door continued and the driver came to an immediate stop. No less than 40 seconds as the bus pulls off, I thought that my pack might have been stolen and climbed to the over head and checked. I then realized who so ever was banging on the door had made off with my bag. Immediately, I panicked, ran to the front of the bus and tried to stop the driver. At this point, I realized it might have been a good idea if I'd paid attention in Spanish class in college and high school. The driver did not understand what I was saying and someone in the front seat translated and he stopped approximately a hundred yards away from where they men had gotten off. I exited the back door and there was no one in sight. I got back on the bus, did some breathing exercises to calm down and immediately started trouble shooting.
I attempted to speak to everyone who sat behind me and who might have seen the person(s) who took my bag. A woman who I assumed was approximately 25 years old and spoke fluent English saw the entire situation. Thanks to all those spy movies I saw in the past, I grabbed a pen and had her write down a description of everything she remembered, then instructed her to tell the bus driver to take us to the nearest police station and told her to get off with us so I can file a report. She later told me that it was two male Nicaraguans. Whether or not the men were Nicaraguans, I was not concerned with their nationality. What I had previously observed as I was travelling into Costa Rica was that Nicaraguans were travelling to Costa Rica in large numbers to seek employment. As I was travelling to Liberia from Nicaragua, there were random stop and searches at various check points. I enquired and found out that police were looking for illegal immigrants entering Costa Rica.
Anyways, as we arrived at police station, in some tiny village in Guanacaste, this place and to be the smallest police station I ever seen. There was only one police officer with a woman, whom I assumed to be his girlfriend, a telephone, and television that looked as if it escaped from the 1980s crowned with a wire hanger antenna. The two people both look sweaty and bothered as if we were interrupting a love session. Never the less, the woman who exited the bus with us gave the information to the lone police officer and told us we would have to go to the main branch and file my report there. The kind young woman then gave me change to take the bus back in the other derection and went on her way. I pulled a cab over and tried to talk my way into a free cab ride to the station but to no avail. As we arrived at the Main Police station, there were two people spoke English and was delighted to help us. One, a tall stellar looking police officer and young female clerk who took the report. I gave details of what happened, and between my inability to speak any Spanish and her ability to speak some English we came up with a report that had a few missing details.
At this point Dan was surprised how calm I was. The reason being is that I knew there is a US embassy in Costa Rica and my passport could be easily replaced. Secondly, Ade is the kind of person who gets excited for about a few minutes then his brain calms down and begins to compute. What actually bothered me was all the photographs I lost, especially my art.
click here to read the full police report
Back in Nicaragua, I took photographs claiming a volcano, I woke up at 5 am to photograph a sail boat docked at a beach, pictures at the mall, photographs of Costa Rican and Nicaraguan daily life, photographs of Dan and I riding horses with a volcano in the back drop and the list goes on. These photographs cannot be be replaced and this is what was most upsetting. The camera and the lens could be but the time spent investing in my art was gone forever. I have zero pictures of Costa Rica and only memories of the country. So why was I complacent with passport? Simple, I was accustomed to the ex fiancée carrying it for me. I use to jokingly call her the passport Nazi. Because soon as a ticket agent had finished viewing my passport before they could fully close the book and hand it back she would grab it and secure it in her purse. Nevertheless, my passport was stolen and needed to get it back.
To be continued…
