No Hablo

Oct 26, 2017
2 min read

I’ve never had an excellent sense of direction, especially with the Costa Rican roads hemmed by trees and pineapple fields as far as the eye can see. Even after Mark’s suggestion - that we never wander alone - I still managed to find myself alone one day in the Alajuela province, miles from the town we were staying in.

My team and I had come to support a pastor and his community in the small inland town, Pital. They would only realize I was missing when I was late for lunch. I knew they would be worried once I had missed lunch, so when it hit 1pm and I was still walking a long road between huge fields, I started running.

** photos are all from the Costa Rica '17 trip, but not necessarily from the story I am describing! **

I ran for miles without a single car passing me. This was good and bad. It was the heat of a humid day in July, without a cloud in the sky. All I had was the clothes on my back, a serviceless iphone (useless but valuable), an expensive camera (also very valuable), and a big tripod (very bulky)...so while I desperately wanted to hitchhike, the prospect of catching a ride while defenseless and carrying valuables, left me happy to just to run along the empty road.

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Eventually I came to a highway checkpoint where the lone man I found on duty pointed me down a road that he communicated was the direction of Pital.

“Phew, at least I knew that I was going the right way, and couldn’t possibly have gone far enough to miss dinner.

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Eventually, a car passed. As I heard it approach, I slowed to a trot and tried to shield the equipment with my body, but I must have looked conspicuous or out-of-place enough that the car pulled over, and a man called out something unintelligible.

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“Pital?”, I called back, pointing down the road, “no hablo español”, I said as I approached the window. At this, the man cracked a grin and laughed a bit, waving me around the car.

There was a moment of thought, then a decision made. I smiled, and hopped in.

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As soon as we started down the road, we began chatting back and forth as best we could. He, speaking slowly and simply, with an english word occasionally thrown in, and I, signaling, and quickly exhausting the short list of spanish words that I had picked up while painting and mixing concrete.

He was super friendly and though he had never given me reason to feel unsafe, I relaxed further into the “conversation” as I found out that he was the principle of the school across from the church my mission team was staying at. I had found a ride home.

We waved to each other after he dropped me off, and I couldn’t help but thinking that in this one hitchhiking experience in Costa Rica, I had made a stronger interpersonal connection than any of the few times I have hitchhiked in the US.