You know those moments, in the midst of everything going right, that you get a glimpse of some glitch, some potential hazard up ahead on the road of life? Like “oh I better fix that nail that’s poking out of the door fame” or “I’ve got to put it on my list to buy a plunger” only to find that your utopia comes crashing down shortly after. This is Costa Rica Day 4 for us.
The glitch came for me in the middle of the night when I had to get to go to the bathroom and once I did, I still felt like I had to go. “Hmm, this is weird” I thought. I woke up sort of feeling the same way. By the time we’d hit the road for the mountains, I was in much pain and had to pee. Stopping every 20 minutes at very dirty gas stations and sodas along the side of the road (think flies, wet floors, and unusual stenches) did not ease my physical or emotional discomfort.
It was pulled over on the side of the road, me bawling my eyes out and Jason trying to comfort me in his helplessness that we decided we wouldn’t make it to Monteverde. Every bump in the road was painful for me and there was no telling whether I or the roads would get any better. So we turned around and headed back to the coast, not sure where we were going.
Let’s just say that drive was not the most pleasant–Jason was annoyed that we weren’t sticking to the plan and I was in pain and frustrated with my seemingly unsympathetic husband who wasn’t first and foremost interested in the comfort I was demanding but that he couldn’t give. “This it it,” I thought to myself, “this is sanctification.” Just recently I was listening to a sermon by John Piper and in it he said this:
“God gets glory when two very different and imperfect people forge a life of faithfulness in the furnace of marital affliction.”
Although this is probably quite small in the scheme of potential marital afflictions, I couldn’t say it any better.
Back to the story–our drive (and our Lonely Planet guide book) took us to Playa Samara where my ultimate goal was to find a hotel room (and a toilet) fast. We drove all over town, and even stopped and brought our bags into one place, but every place had tiny little rooms with no windows and weird smells. It all depressed us. And I found that apparently my bladder can withstand such circumstances at the sake of finding finer accommodations.
By that point we were both tired and a bit anxious. We drove a little way outside of the town and towards the beach and pulled into a resort that looked touristy but pretty nice–little cabinas set right on the beach. It seemed like the kind of place that would be hopping in the on-season, but at the moment was shut down and as dead as could be. It all felt a bit eerie.
We brokered a deal with the teenage guy at the reception desk, took a look at the room, and promptly moved ourselves in. Except for the excessive wetness, mold on the toilet seat, and an air conditioner that leaked water all night, it was the place for us during our stay in Playa Samara.
Below is the video documenting this very difficult day for us. When I watch it I smile for several reasons:
- It’s proof that when all was said and done we were able to laugh at least a little about the whole fiasco.
- I realize in watching this that I make very extreme facial expressions. This disturbs me when I think about the fact that Jason has to experience this weird habit of mine all the time.
- Halfway through the video, I got very distracted by people running on the beach. Excuse my look of contempt toward them and my rudeness toward you and keep watching.