Living Life In Costa Rica Part 1: The Arrival
November 9, 2019
I’ve done it. I’ve actually gotten on a plane and flown across the world. I’m trying not to see it too much as running from something but more like running towards something. Whatever that may be. Although it does feel a bit like I’ve dropped everything and left without a solid plan. But maybe that was necessary. Anyway, let’s recap for a minute.
Having never been outside of Europe or on a plane for longer than 3 hours, the journey itself was already enough of a challenge. To make things easy, I had booked a flight with 2 stops, so I had a total of 3 planes to catch. The first flight was delayed, which made me late for boarding of my second flight, so I was off to a great start. Luckily, I managed to get there in time. By then, I thought the hard part was over, as the only thing left to do was getting through a 10-hour flight without dying of boredom.
It was nighttime, so I’d just sleep, I thought...
Yah, no. I mean, I tried. I don’t think I could’ve gotten any more creative in finding the perfect position to sleep in. None of them worked. At best, I dozed off for about half an hour, only to wake up again from a talkative neighbour, turbulence, children, a random announcement, you name it.
Not surprisingly, I was nauseous AF by the end of it and spent the last hour trying really hard not to throw up. Naturally, the child next to me beat me to it, which really made things pleasant. The nausea continued during the one and a half hour layover in the Dominican Republic, but I was in luck (sort of?) because I managed to keep the rather questionable airplane food down.
I thought I would try and sleep on my final short trip (have I learned nothing?). But, once again, heavy turbulence made this impossible, as well as the screaming 2-year-old in the row before me. After about 30 minutes (which seemed like a lifetime) of relentless crying, the exhaustion got the best of me and I just joined in silent tears.
This was probably the moment that I began to wonder what the hell I was doing. There I was, in another strange trying-to-sleep-but-failing position, in a dark airplane, silently crying in unison with an extremely upset child, on my way to Costa Rica, where I don’t know anything or anyone (except for my travel buddy), in hopes my life would somehow start to suck less.
So, did I arrive in one piece? Did I get over my mini existential crisis? Find out in my next entry!
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