A Not-So-Ordinary Taxi Driver
Earlier this week, I had planned a trip to a Manuel Antonio-area beach for my birthday. This kind of trip calls for bus tickets that have to be bought. Not like a city bus, but like a coach bus. So Hannah and I took the train to San José with our SOLmates, Jon and Tim, to try and find the bus terminal that we could buy the 15 tickets that we needed.
We knew where how to get to the taxi stop from where the train dropped us off, but from then we would be in the hands of the taxi driver that picked us up. I think we really lucked out with the driver that stopped for us. I told him that we were looking to go where we could buy bus tickets to Manuel Antonio, and he knew exactly where it was.
I was sitting shotgun in the taxi, and we chatted for the 20-minute ride across the city (we weren't too far away, but traffic in San José at 4:30 is kind of crazy). He told us that he was from El Salvador, but he had come to Costa Rica when he was about 12 years old. He had been driving his taxi for over 30 years, and now lived in San José, but went to visit his family in his home country once a year with his son.
We got to the bus terminal, and he offered to take us inside, help us get the tickets, and also drive us back home to Heredia. Having him help us made it go so much smoother than if we would have been on our own. Although the ride back to Heredia was so long because of traffic (about an hour), he was good company to have. He asked us where we were from and what we were doing in Costa Rica. He told us that he loved driving non-Ticos around because he just liked talking with them.
He told me that my Spanish was very good, but I'm sure that he was just being polite. I really wish that I could remember his first name, but he made sure that we knew his last name, because it was very strange: Pocasangre, or Littleblood. I keep hoping that I'll recognize his little worn taxi around, but I'm sure that the chances of meeting him again are slim.