Michael's Travels

Costa Rican Jail

First of all I am no longer there, in jail, or for that matter Costa Rica. Secondly, sorry Mom but what follows really isn't as bad as it sounds.

So, I was in fact arrested for my overdue visa. I was at the Pension "working." I was looking down doing something and the next thing I know I was looking out into a room filled with various types of policemen. My friend and co-worker Mark tells me I turned white as a sheet. I certainly felt the blood rushing rather frantically around my head for a moment there. I gave the immigration officer the copy I had of my passport and my plane ticket. That was the plan based on the suggestion of one of my friends...carry the copy of the passport and the ticket, they would see I was leaving soon and leave me alone. Well, it didn't really work; he wanted to see my original passport. He escorted me back to my room to get it and, of course, once he saw it he walked me straight back to the center of town and locked me up with all the Nicaraguans they had found the day before. Locked up sounds, harsh, we were in a community center in the middle of town, airy, with benches and a checker board but nonetheless we couldn't get out if we wanted to. Various friends from around town came by to visit me as the news spread that I was there. It was a pretty lenient situation and my friends brought me cigarettes, water, and paper, so I could write. I was told after about three hours of sitting around that I would be released the next morning but that I would be taken that night to Puntarenes to be detained until they processed me (fingerprints, photo, etc.) the next morning. Daniel the Immigration cop was always pretty nice to me, I must say. I said, it looks like I don't have any choice and he agreed so I sat down to await our transportation down the mountain.
It was few hours later, around four or five in the afternoon, that the van the police commandeered to transport us, showed up. It was a rather comfortable twelve passenger van with air conditioning that the police had gotten from Sapo Dorado a fairly fancy Monteverde hotel. I found out latter that one of my cell mates was a worker there so I figure the hotel was kindly disposed towards helping the police out in any way they could. Nonetheless, it was one of my more comfortable trips down the mountain.
There were two cells, I am bad at size but let’s say 15 by 15 feet or so. There were five of us in each cell. All nice guys, all Nicaraguan, and all only Spanish speakers. The twenty-four hours I spent incarcerated with these guys was the best Spanish lesson I have ever had. There were two cells and a total of ten of us as well as one woman who was not place in a cell but hung out in the waiting area on the dock. The whole building was right on the water and our cells were along a wall that ran from the dock to the street. The back of the building opened out to the water and behind the police reception desk you could see the peninsula and the other shore of Costa Rica beyond. It was actually quite a nice view.
As it grew late we were given foam mattresses, which were stamped with the Costa Rican emergency relief agency logo and apparently used for storm victims as well as prisoners. They were not too bad and I actually slept quite well as was commented on by a number of my cell mates. Now remember, again, this is all in Spanish, a language that a mere nine months ago I could not understand a word of. We talked a lot about Nicaragua and some of my new friends were from or at least familiar with many of the places I visited. We talked about other Nicaraguans that we knew in town who had successfully evaded the police. We never talked about American movies and no one asked me about famous people or how many cars I had. I think that stuff only happens in the movies.
The morning broke rather uneventfully and around eight we were brought food and coffee. Decent Gallo Pinto and Scrambled eggs was the fare and the coffee was not half bad either. After breakfast we all took turns being let out of our little cages to freshen up a bit. This was the only time it got difficult for me. I walk a lot, I always have. Even if that means a half mile to work in the morning or to the further train stop to get a little exercise in, I always get a bit of movement into each morning. A fifteen foot cage makes this a bit difficult and I pondered for the first time how truly horrible it would be to live in a cage for any extended period of time. I suppose it is not so bad if you get out for a few hours a day but at this point I had been in for about twenty ours total. I was really, really tense. I felt like screaming and banging my head against the cage. I wanted to ask the officer if I could just walk around a little but I was pretty sure that would be rejected. I suspect it was worse knowing that I would be released soon but the thing is I didn't really know for sure. I had been told that but I had also seen Daniel come and take three others away at about nine thirty and they hadn't come back yet and either had he. I was told I would be released "manana, manana," which should mean in the morning in English but "manana" is a very vague word, in Spanish. Basically, I was starting to wonder if I would really get out that day.
They returned a couple of hours latter and took me and two other guys back to the office. It went pretty smoothly from there on. I understood all the charges and repercussions but we got a translator just to be sure. They took some pictures, I signed some stuff and it was basically over as quickly as it started. Next thing I knew I was walking down the streets of Puntarenes heading for the bus back to Monteverde. I found a hammock I had been thinking of buying for half what it would have cost on the mountain and I ran into two of my cell mates who had been released earlier that morning. We rode the bus back up the mountain together and agreed to meet later for a drink.
When I got back into town it was early evening and I was pretty overwhelmed by everyone’s concern. It was particularly strange having this thing happen just as I was about to leave but it also reminded my why I have loved that town so much. I feel like I made more friends in my four month there then in fifteen years in New York. I suppose small towns are just like that.