Vicente Espinoza

by Anna-Maria Poppe (Argentina)

A leap into the unknown Costa Rica

Vicente Espinoza. This name was constantly circling through my mind. I was travelling on my own. And Costa Rica hadn´t exactly been what I was looking for. While capital city San José seemed to be an outburst of people and traffic I was longing for a far more authentic encounter. In Puntarenas it was Julia who scribbled down only two words on a used piece of paper before handing it over to me: Vicente Espinoza. I had to cross the Golf of Nicoya by ferry before taking one of the local buses in Paquera. And the only thing I had got was this tiny brown paper with a name of a person as unknown to me as the upcoming adventure. I had only met Julia selling the typical “churros” next to the bus station. We didn´t know each other. But there was a connection between us. She wrote down those two words. And I took the opportunity they represented. Once on the bus, I showed the driver these words and they seemed to be enough for him to know where I wanted to go. But sitting in the rusty old school bus, travelling along the bumpy sand roads to who knows where, I felt less sure about my spontaneity. Huge banana trees flew by the windows while the bus passed along the narrow paths, deeper and deeper into the jungle. Only the glaring “Jesus, mi Señor” sign over the driver´s head had something soothing. Vicente Espinoza started becoming a mantra. Repeating his name seemed to calm me on my way into the unknown. By the time I realized being the only foreign traveller on the bus, I was already covered in dust. I got used to the local travellers rhythmically swinging to the many potholes on the way. More than once did I feel one of them looking at me as if to wonder what I was doing there. Licking my dry lips and observing the unique surrounding life had put me into, Vicente Espinoza seemed to be exactly what I had been looking for in the first place. I did want to leave the beaten track, to be part of this incredible culture and get in touch with locals. The farther the bus drove into the rich surrounding nature, the purer my travelling felt. While driving away from Paquera, however, the bus became more and more empty. Every now and then an even tinier village than the former turned up out of nowhere. And once more I doubted my decision of simply chasing a name. I didn´t even have an address. There were no phones to call him. I couldn´t even ask him whether he would be home. Or whether he would want me to help on his farm. I only got two words – Vicente Espinoza – on which I had trusted enough to take a three hours bus ride into Costa Rica´s backcountry. Too late to turn around. The driver stopped. Vicente Espinoza? Yes. He shows me towards a lonely alley. Somewhere on the left I would find a hut with sponge trees growing in front of it. This is where I might find Vicente Espinoza. While I slowly got off the dusty vehicle, I realized once again that there was only one way to go. Forward. The bus was not going to wait for me. There won´t be any other until the next day. And I was standing on the sandy, hot road of this miniature village somewhere in Costa Rica. I felt naïve, unsure. Why would I take this risk? Julia´s face perishes through my mind. She seemed confident to send me here. However, we met for barely more than 10 minutes. Could I really trust her? Doubts and self-reproaches marked my steps towards what might be Vicente Espinoza´s home. What was I thinking? I strongly believe that travelling is about being open to new places and new encounters. I had decided to come here for a reason. Something urged me to take this road and this bus. It was just then that I realized the huge sponge plant marking the entry to a humble wooden hut. And there he was: Vicente Espinoza.