In my almost ten months here in Costa Rica I’d had nothing
but pleasant experiences. I feel like my
Spanish is growing almost every day; I have ordered food in restaurants, asked
for directions, gone through immigration (twice and never been detained) been
to customs to pick up a package, and even spoke at a parents meetings. However, the one thing I had never done was
argue, well that is until yesterday.
This weekend I went to San Vito, a town in the South of
Costa Rica, close to Panama, with a bunch of the other volunteers. We went to visit one of the volunteers whose
Site Placement is very close to there.
My travel buddy AnneMarie and I left our town Turrialba on Friday and headed
to San Jose. When we got to the station
in San Jose we had to take a taxi to the second bus station that would take us
South. We ended up with a very nice taxi
driver who practiced his English. While
in the taxi I noticed the meter was stuck on 590 colones and we had already
passed several blocks. Normally when I
get in a taxi, the numbers pass rather quickly, so I instantly assumed that it
was either broken or turned off, so I asked him about it. He reassured me that it was fine and we
arrived at our destination with a fare of about 640 colones. As we left he wished us well and warned us
not to talk to men.
Fast forward to yesterday when we came back North. When we got to the station in San Jose we
looked for a taxi. The taxi drivers
usually bum rush you when you leave the station and being a seasoned traveler I
knew the guys who wait outside on foot are usually the pirate taxis who charge
whatever they want since they don’t have a meter. After bypassing all of them, AnneMarie and I
walked to a marked taxi and got in. I
told him we were headed to the bus station for Turrialba. He drove off.
The meter was turned off and said to him, could you please turn on the
meter. He replied, “no, this trip cost
1000 (colones).” I said, “That is not
fair, you know that if I ask you to put on the meter you are obligated to do
so.” He replied once again with “no this
trip cost 1000 (colones).” I replied, “No
it does not. I just took this trip and
it did not cost 1000 (colones).” He
replied smugly with, “So how much does it cost then?” Being that I couldn’t
remember the exact amount, and refused to give in, I responded with, “about 600
(colones).” He turned on the meter and
said, rather sarcastically, “Ok, let’s see if it costs 600 (colones).”
Poor AnneMarie sat in silence as the driver and I
argued. I would call myself fluent in
Spanish, but sometimes when I get excited my words get jumbled; this was not
one of those times. I was firm, and did
not back down. I was feeling pretty good
about the whole thing until I realized we hadn’t exactly arrived at our
destination, and sat quietly praying that he wouldn’t take some random back
alley route to make the fare higher. Luckily he wasn’t a complete monster and we
arrived shortly after. I looked at the
meter and the fare came to about 650 colones.
I know I didn’t have to but I couldn’t help saying, “Oh yeah that really
is a 1000 colones.” However, in my head I was thinking “Tome chichí” a popular
phrase used in Costa Rica, which means take that. AnneMarie hopped out and I handed him 700
colones. As I was getting ready to close
the door he went to hand me back the 50 colones change and I said “No, you keep
it,” and slammed the door. I brought out
my inner New Yorker and victory was mine.
AnneMarie gave me a high five as we walked to the station and
congratulated me on my success. She
later said she was secretly praying that he didn’t have a gun, I didn’t worry
about that in Costa Rica, but had we been in the U.S. I might not have been so
sassy.
