Because we arrived so late, our
large plane had to park at a remote stand and we took buses to the
terminal. That delayed things, as it took a long time to get the stairs
connected and buses lined up. Immigration was surprisingly and pleasantly
quick, and we were ready to grab our bags, find our beleaguered driver, and get
to our hotel. That was not meant to be. It took a very long time
for bags to start to coming out, and it was only then that we realized how many
people had been on our flight and how much luggage there was. We waited
and waited, as bags poured out, but none of them were ours. The app
showed that they had been loaded onto our original plane, but there was nothing
to confirm if they were moved to our new aircraft. Finally, the conveyor
bringing bags up from below simply stopped. The sole Air Canada rep
climbed up and over, trying to get it moving, but to no avail. He screamed
into the radio for several minutes and then started to walk away. I
followed, along with two other women, and we asked if he could see if our bags
were even in San Jose. For the ladies in front, he confirmed that their
bags were still in Toronto. Sigh. I was certain our fate was similar.
I was, therefore, pleasantly surprised when he said our bags were in fact in San
Jose, but couldn't be retrieved until the conveyor was fixed. He assured
me they'd called "the expert" in from home. About 20 minutes
later, things were moving again and our bags were among the LAST to come
out.
Arrival into San Jose
Our Plane in San Jose
By this point, our driver was
texting me regularly, asking for updates. While she spoke no English, we
used the translate feature in WhatsApp, and I later understood that she had a
child to get to school, and our delayed arrival meant she was scrambling to
make other arrangements. In the end, I tipped her far more than the
transfer cost, but I still felt guilty for all the inconvenience.
The drive to downtown San Jose
was only about five miles from the airport, but it took a solid half hour, as
we were in the midst of morning rush hour. Our hotel, the Hilton, we soon
learned is only five years old and is the tallest building in the country, at
50 stories. At check-in, there was confusion. They had not
seen my email regarding the delay. They initially told us our room was
not ready, to which I pointed out that we had paid for Sunday night. They
eventually found the reservation and did indeed have a room ready for us, which
was very welcome. After getting our bags, we went down to the impressive
buffet breakfast and settled in.
When we had originally expected
to arrive the night before and have all of Monday to ourselves, and we had
discussed going on a private local tour. Luckly, I had not booked that,
as we were all tired and no one really wanted to go out. Anna and
Katherine went to bed while I went to the gym upstairs. While I was at
the pool, my phone rang, and it was Gate1. They had received word from
the hotel that we had not checked in. I laughed, as I explained all the
confusion when we checked in, but I was glad to know they were on top of
things. I assured them we had arrived, and all was sorted. To be
certain, I went down to the Front Desk and found our tour manager -- Gio -- to
whom I explained everything. He assured me all was under control and that
I should just enjoy the rest of the afternoon. K then later joined me in
the pool upstairs, which had commanding views over the city. Anna rested
and acclimated.
View Over the National Stadium From Hilton's 18th Floor Lobby
View From Our Room
Workout With a View
National Stadium
Relaxing Post-Workout
I had booked dinner
reservations at what, according to TripAdvisor, is the best restaurant in the
city. Luckly, it was only a block from the hotel. We were all
unpacking in our room around 4pm when there was a sudden shudder and shaking in
the room. We were on the 32nd floor and all felt it. I immediately
suspected an earthquake, while Anna thought it might be strong winds. I peered
into the hallway, where people were comically all looking out from their rooms
confused. Anna called me back in and showed me on her phone that a 4.3 magnitude
earthquake had just struck just outside of San Jose. Well, that's a
first! It was the first earthquake for all three of us, as we missed the
one in DC about 10 years, as we were in Canada at the time.
Our Pre-Dinner Drink/Snack at the Hotel
K and I later went down to the
bar for a welcome drink while Anna showered and changed. There we saw the
local news covering the quake, showing images of the shaking from across the
city. We couldn't understand any of what they were saying, but the
pictures were obvious. Anna joined us and we made the somewhat harrowing,
albeit it short, walk to our restaurant. We saw no crosswalks and, as we
later learned, pedestrians do not have the right of way in Costa Rica, so
crossing the street was an adventure.
Our restaurant was called
"The Three Dogs," and it was in a very interesting building -- very
modern, with some parts inside and some outside. I had made a
reservation, but they did not even look open. We finally wandered to the
back garden area, which had one other table with people. Otherwise, we
were it. It was a Monday night and it was only 6:30pm, so we shouldn't
have been surprised. It was essentially a tapas-style restaurant, but
with a mixture of global foods. The most part were the drinks, which were
all -- literally -- little works of art. K had one served to her on fire;
Anna had one with a balloon, and I had one with a large bubble of smoke on top,
which I was to theatrically burst with a sprig of evergreen. The food was
beyond outstanding. We all argued as to what we enjoyed the most, and by the
end of our gouge fest, we lamented that we would not have another opportunity
to eat here. It was, without doubt, one of the best dinners I have had
anywhere in the world.
Our Restaurant -- The Three Dogs
Drink Served on Fire
As I had not
napped during the day, I was first in bed and asleep, while Anna and Katherine
got ready. I did not hear a thing!
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