It's 2021! Time to scrub off the smothering unease that has enveloped me for so many months. During the rainy season, a "green sheen" (a mixture of pollen and jungle mildew) slowly grows and clings to all the exterior surfaces of the house. Now that the dry days have returned, I am diligently dissolving its' obscuring presence to reveal the bright shine laying below. I am reactivating my blog after my long lethargic procrastination caused by the extremely rainy season, the tumult of the US election, the pandemic, CR protests against the government and my right eye. It's a new month, a new year and the sun is shining over a dry breeze whispering through the property.
Two surgeries for a detached retina in the same eye just 4 weeks apart dropped a big rock into the relatively tranquil pond of my life. August 15th was a sunny Saturday morning and the surf was good. I was happily catching a few waves when I paddled for a big one that tumbled me backwards, heels over head. Out of the swirling foam, I popped up, feeling fine and laughed at the wacky somersault. On the ride home, I noticed a dark shadow in the lower left quadrant of the peripheral vision of my right eye. I mentioned it to M and he did some research online. What he found described a detached retina, a serious situation. Coincidentally, I had a scheduled appointment on Wednesday to see an ophthalmologist that travels down from San José about twice a month. Dr Tovar was recommended to us by our good friends and close neighbors, Mike and Nina. Before my surf tumble, I was seeing "floaters" in my eyes and wanted to get it checked out. Since we didn't understand the gravity of the condition, we felt that we could wait until then for a prognosis.
I was lucky to have had the appointment and Dr. Tovar, an excellent communicator (in English), trustworthy and genial, confirmed the detached retina. He asked me several times whether the shadow had moved since I first saw it and what day that I first saw it. He explained that if the shadow moves into my direct vision that I would permanently lose my eyesight. I required immediate surgery.The office where we met is in a town about an hour drive away from our home. Dr Tovar's main office and surgery center is in Escazú just outside of San José, a 6.5 hour drive. While we sat in his office, Dr. Tovar called his partner, Dr. Ortiz to arrange a surgery time for me on Friday. Dr. Tovar would have preferred that I have the surgery the next day on Thursday. But there was no way that we could drive home, pack, manage the house and property for our absence, arrange for our neighbor Roy to take care of the dogs and hen. And then drive 6.5 hours in the middle of the night to arrive the next day.
It was Thursday, August 20th and M’s birthday, when we set out in good weather. Giving Soozi and Pinta big hugs we asked them to stay safe and guard the house. It had been raining torrentially for days and the bridge over Rio Coronado on the Costanera (coastal highway, our preferred route) was closed. All traffic including the heavy transports coming from the Panama border was routed via the Inter-American highway. This, mostly 2-lane road, travels along the central ridge that is the backbone of Costa Rica's highest mountains. The route's nickname is "Camino de los Muertos," the Road of the Dead so-called because you can drive around a bend to discover that the lane you are in has slid down the mountain. Needless to say why we prefer the Costanera (the coastal highway.) Around mid-day, as we drove through a light drizzle along a very narrow, extremely curvy section, twice we drove around a tight turn to see a transport truck tipped over into the deep drainage ditch. Later after we re-joined the Costanera highway in the pouring rain around 4 pm, the electrical system in car failed. It started innocuously enough when the radio crackled and went silent. We thought that was odd. Then the wipers made a couple of slow swipes across the windshield and halted mid stroke. M noticed that the speedometer registered zero. He checked the front lights with no response and surmised that there were no brake lights. We had our side windows half open and as it rained harder, water dripped down the inside of the doors. We were about an hour and a half from our destination, a Homestay called Ester's Place where we have stayed often. As we continued to drive, we discussed the options: 1. find a mechanic nearby in the likelihood that I would miss my surgery in the morning; 2. keep driving. Call us crazy but we kept driving, silently imploring the universe for good luck.
Peering through the rain splashed windshield, following a transport because he could best see its brake lights, M drove on. In Costa Rica, sunset occurs around 5:35 pm all year round. Calculating the time and distance, we knew that it would be dark by the time we could reach Ester's Place. As dusk turned to night, we were on a multi-lane toll road where other cars would pull up next to us and flash their lights. There was nothing that we could do. Fortunately, the rain lightened as we reached our exit to the homestay. Under optimal driving conditions, the exit is a nail-biter. As we approached the toll gate before the exit, M and I discussed strategy as to how we could avoid getting slammed by other vehicles exiting the fast pass lanes to the right of our toll booth. I wanted to hold my arm out my window to try to wave off any approaching vehicle but I couldn't because the window was stuck. The exit is just 100 meters past the toll gate. To make the exit, you have to speed up from a full stop at the cash toll gate while swiftly changing lanes to the right and look for cars or trucks speeding through the fast pass toll gates. We made it to the exit without incident. Due to pandemic curfew regulations, the traffic was light When we arrived in front of Ester's, M and I turned to each other for a long moment taking deep breaths of relief and gratitude. I had full faith and trust that over the 464 km drive, he would bring us there safely. We were also so lucky!
Dr. Tovar and Dr. Ortiz have their practice at OftalmoCIMA CIMA Hospital and their doctors are considered the best in Costa Rica. We took my Dad there when he had his stroke while on vacation here. The facility and staff are very professional. The surgery went smoothly. Except for one little incident. After the nurse woke me from the sedation, I felt great and walked back to the changing room. M came in, the nurse asked if I was feeling OK and I said yes. She went to fetch me hot tea and M step into the toilet for a minute. I was sitting quietly on the slippery vinyl bench and a split second later, I felt the left side of my face smashing against the floor. I had blacked out and slipped off the bench. The plastic eye shield protecting my right eye cut into the bridge of my nose with my left cheekbone and eyebrow ridge taking the brunt of the force later turning a sickly yellow and purple. Fortunately, the fall did not affect the surgery and my right eye felt fine after 24 hours.
Dr. Ortiz, my surgeon strongly urged that I not travel for at least 10 days. He wanted to see me on Monday to check that the fall hadn't impacted the surgery (which it hadn't) And again on Friday, one week after the surgery. We hadn't planned to be away from home and "The Girls" that long. The factors contributing to his recommendation were the remoteness of our home and the route we'd have to take. As I wrote earlier, our trip up to San José was the mountain route due to the failure of a bridge on the coastal highway. The doctor advised us not to travel through the mountains where elevations reach to 11,000+ feet. Traveling at that altitude would expand the gas bubble in my eye and cause pain. Also, he was concerned that the last part of our journey would be over bumpy, gravel roads. He wanted me have some solid healing before subjecting my eye to an hour's worth of corduroy travel.
We were quite comfortable at Ester's Place, a well-appointed 6 bedroom home with a huge kitchen and lovely enclosed sun-filled front terrace that is perfect for enjoying a meal or reading. Due to my surgery, I had to sleep sitting up and our room had a very comfy recliner complete with drink holder in the armrest. There is convenient food shopping and a PriceSmart (Costco) nearby. M went "foraging" and he cooked "3 squares a day" as well as picking up handy household items. A 10 day stay was quite enjoyable.
Never a dull moment on the drive home too. The toll road highway that links San José to the west coast snakes through a lush jungle-covered mountain range where the road is carved out along the mountainside with bridge spans crossing deep, wide ravines. With slamming rain, the low dips in the 2-lane highway flooded and as the heavy transports ahead plowed through, huge fans of water obscured our windshield. The lightening practically blinded us with flashes followed instantaneously by explosions of thunder that shuddered the windows. The exit from the toll highway onto the Costanera has very poor signage and due to limited visibility, we drove right past it. When we realized that we were in new territory, I pulled up Waze and we turned back.
Watching the local newscast, we, with our rudimentary Spanish, deciphered that the Rio Coronado bridge may be re-opened but only from 6 am to 6 pm (or maybe not.) We arrived at the proverbial "fork in the road" near a town called Dominical. Our two options were: turn left and head up the winding mountain road where I will probably experience significant pain from the expanding gas bubble in my eye. Or drive straight ahead and hope that the bridge was open. We decided to roll the dice on the open bridge. As we approached the ‘point of no return," it was pouring rain and a police vehicle was blocking our southbound lane. Not to be deterred, M veered into the northbound lane and blew past the police officer standing in a booth at the side of the road. We forged forth with Waze, a driving map app that is widely used in CR and generally very accurate, indicating that the bridge was open. It was still another hour plus drive to reach the Rio Coronado but we were heartened to see heavy traffic going north. We figured this traffic consisting of transport trucks must be coming from Panamá over the temporary bridge.
At 5:45 pm, the traffic slowed to a stop in the dusky light. We didn’t know if we were near the temporary bridge or miles from it because Waze was out of cell range. It was raining lightly so M didn’t want to get out of the car to walk forward to investigate. We sat quietly with fingers crossed and within 10 minutes, the traffic started to move. It turned out that we were just a few car lengths from the crossing. As we approached the bridge, the temporary road dipped down along the bank of the river. The crossing was a wide dirt berm built over a series of enormous concrete drainage tubes. Here's a video of our crossing.
As we continued south, we drove past a couple of miles of traffic waiting to go northbound. We felt lucky that we arrived in time. Our last hurdle was driving along the bumpy dirt roads near our house. My surgeon had warned us that rough travel could damage my retina. I tried to sit upright and sway along with the bumps. Michael drove slowly and we arrived home in the dark. The Girls, Soozi and Pinta were ecstatic to see us. Their tails wagging so broadly that their bottoms swayed with the force. With yips of joy and lots of weaving around our legs, they showed us that they were as happy to see us as we were to see them. We were grateful to be home and I had had enough adventure (at least that was what I thought.)
For almost 4 weeks, I spent most of my time in my patio gravity chair that I tricked out with various pillows, a footrest and a quilt. The majority of the day and night, I tried to maintain a position to keep my head at the correct angle so that I could keep the gas bubble in the upper right quadrant of my vision. I felt quite slothful, however Dr. Tovar continued to prescribe rest. Though sleeping in that chair was getting old, I was happy to see the gas bubble in my eye shrink. I saw Dr. Tovar at his local office twice. On the second visit, he saw a small hole in my retina and a macular pucker (scar tissue as a result of the surgery that occurs in 50% of cases.)) This was on a Thursday and he said that I needed to have the hole sealed, an in-office laser procedure that required a trip to his office in Escazú. M and I decided that we would travel up the following Monday for a Tuesday appointment.
On Saturday, I was reading on my laptop when I noticed a strange shadow in my peripheral vision of my right eye just below the top eyelid. By Sunday morning, the shadow had traveled down in my vision. I WhatsApp-ed Dr. Tovar describing the situation and dreading that I was experiencing a 2nd retinal tear. Many Costa Rican doctors give patients their personal cell number. It is reassuring when your doctor responds to you within the hour. As I feared, he wanted to see me right away even offering to see me that night, a Sunday. Michael organized help for the dogs and Honker the Hen, threw a few items in our backpacks and jumped in the car. Our drive was going well until we were outside of a town called Jacõ where our electrical failure occurred on the last trip. Just as I thought to myself, “we made it to Jacõ and the car is running well,” the car started making a weird noise. A few more kilometers along the highway, as Michael shifted, the transmission clunked and chattered. .We hit the Sunday afternoon "returning from the beach"traffic and our progress was "stop-and-go" along the highway toll road. At about 4 pm with a light drizzle, a huge clunk shuddered the car and M pulled over.
There is no AAA in CR. Our first question as we sat on the shoulder too distant from any town to walk, “what is the Spanish word for tow truck?” Luckily, we pulled over in an area with cell reception. I opened Google Translate to learn the Word for the Day, "grua." We searched online for towing services and made a few calls. I spoke to a guy who was in a town a few miles behind us. M spoke to a woman whose husband was a least an hour drive away. However, he was based in a town near our destination. I thanked the man that I was talking with and said that we'd found another service. After M and I hung up our phones, we sat in silence both thinking that this was going to be a long wait. Instead the kindness of the universe showed its comforting face. Within 10 minutes, a flatbed tow truck pulled up and parked in front of us. M and I looked at each other with grateful disbelief that the operator from the city had arrived so quickly. Shortly, we learned it was the operator from the town just a few miles behind us. He took it upon himself to come look for us. My heart filled with relief and gratitude. Alex, our operator, asked us to remain in the car. He hoisted our vehicle onto the flatbed and we travelled along like a poor man’s Rose Bowl Parade float. Alex was great. First, he drove us to Ester’s Place to drop me and our stuff off. The curtain in my eye had descended further and I was using all my positive energy to remain calm and centered. Then Alex and Michael drove to our local mechanic’s garage that is only 10 minutes from Ester's. Thank goodness for cellphones, while we were stately proceeding on the flatbed, Michael was in contact with Manolo, the mechanic who fixed the alternator during our last trip. Manolo was out of town and couldn't meet M at the garage for the drop off. When Alex and M arrived at Manolo's garage, the "Lavacar" (car wash) next door was open (it was 7 pm on Sunday by this time.) M asked the operator there if he could park our vehicle across the street and leave the keys with him for Manolo to retrieve in the morning. After a few calls, all was arranged.
On Monday morning, Dr. Tovar saw that my retina was folding over itself. The curtain was distinctly creeping down into my range of vision. A very dangerous sign that it was closing in on the macula. My surgery with Dr. Ortiz was scheduled and I was under sedation by 5 that afternoon. Dr. Ortiz repaired the retina, installed a sclera buckle around the orbital sphere, injected silicon oil, inserted a new lens due to a cataract and removed a pterygium as a bonus. After 2 heavy sedations within 4 weeks and the 2nd surgery lasting 2.5 hours, I felt like lead when the nurse awakened. This time, there was a wheelchair for me. With the 8 pm pandemic-imposed curfew looming, we and the staff had to get to our respective homes quickly. M and the nurses were helping me get dressed as a could barely move out of the wheelchair. Uber wasn’t working because of the curfew so the staff kindly drove us to Ester’s. The recovery, this time, was very painful and slow. We stayed at Ester’s for 10 days where I slept most of the time in-between a regimen of various eyedrops and appointments with Dr. Ortiz. Michael was (and is) attentive and caring. He even had some fun during our stay. He played golf 3 times at one of Costa Rica's few country clubs.. All these adventures could have become disastrous mishaps if it weren't for the kindness of the people that we encountered in our time of great stress. Even now as I recall these events, I am overwhelmed by the generosity and thoughtfulness of the individuals that turned a scary situation into a series of surmountable hurdles.
Unlike our previous stay where we watched a lot of Spanish-language TV and tried to decipher the news broadcasts, this time we mostly watched Netflix and YouTube. On the day of our departure, we were blissfully unaware of the political troubles that were brewing between the President and a group of activists concerning new proposed taxes. Costa Rica is Central America's oldest democracy and is considered a role model for this hemisphere. When the people wish to express disagreement with the President, the method of protest takes the from of a "huelga." A strike where civil servants such as teachers, bureaucrats, some medical personnel will stop work. To cause the maximum amount of disruption to the lives of the majority of citizens and really get the President's attention, the protestors most aggressive tactic is to blockade highways and bridges. So, on that (rare for October) sunny morning, M and I gleefully climbed into our newly repaired vehicle excited with the prospect that we'd shortly see The Girls and sleep in our own bed. "HaHaha," chuckled the universe.
We sped along the highway toll road that winds through the mountains where I always love to gaze up at the green covered peaks or catch a glimpse of rock strewn rivers running through the wide chasms. I saw a group of people, holding CR flags and some signs, gathered on a steep hillside near an underpass. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere and I thought that it was an odd place to collect. About 45 minutes later, we passed through the beach resort town of Jacó where I glimpsed a group of large vehicles surrounded with people holding signs at the side of the road. We whizzed by quickly and I couldn't read their messages. I mentioned it to M and we lightly dismissed it as a local issue. Another hour passed as we easily drove through the coastal landscape with little traffic. (Unusually light traffic was another clue to our eventual fate. We chalked it up to pandemic driving restrictions.) It was in the bustling, agricultural town of Parrita where the traffic ground to a halt just before a low cement bridge spanning a wide slow-moving river when we discovered that we were in the middle of a "huelga."
The protestors must have just blocked the bridge because we were only a hundred feet from the barricade. M got out and walked up to the front. Along the way, he chatted with a few people to get the scoop. The rumour was that the bridge would be blocked until noon, it was 9 am. So we settled in for a wait. As the morning proceeded, the atmosphere became quite festive with people walking up and down waving CR flags. We were parked near a restaurant whose manager kindly let me use their restroom. Fortunately, we had a wonderful book to read called "The Signature of All Things" by Elizabeth Gilbert. M found the paperback on the bookshelf at Ester's. Since my eyesight was compromised, he'd been reading it aloud on Ester's sunny terrace while I recovered. We were immensely enjoying this historical novel and thankfully, the book is 501 pages. We patiently sat in the car in ever increasing heat while M read a chapter or two. At noon, the protestors opened the barricade and we commenced our journey again. Within 45 minutes, the traffic on the highway came to a standstill.
We were outside a coastal town called Quepos. We consider Quepos the halfway point in our drive between home and SJ. Usually we stop at the Pali (a Walmart subsidiary) to get snacks and use the restroom. This time, we were stopped a fair distance from town, too far from any services and surrounded by open fields and palm oil plantations. M got out to make a recon walk and gather intel. One of Tracopa's Pepto-Bismal pink colored buses was stopped just a few cars behind. It happened to be bus on the San Jose to Bella Luz run. We have taken that bus a few times and M happened to know the driver. After chatting with him and a couple of other people, the word was that this barricade would be in place until midnight. The present time was 3 pm! M and I sat in the car and discussed options. We noticed several cars heading back north and wondered if there was an alternate route. I pulled Waze up on my phone and it outlined a route through the palm plantations. We were wary of taking an alternate route since I needed to avoid riding over bumpy roads.
When it comes to traffic jams, Costa Ricans seize it as an entrepreneurial opportunity. Vendors seem to arrive out of nowhere with snacks to sell. Men and women walk up and down the line of cars with bags of plantain chips, chicharrones or cold sodas etc. A man with a flavored ice cart walked by. As M and I sat discussing the pros and cons of cutting cross-country, a man pushing a cart of BBQ meat skewers popped his head in the window. He saw that we were studying Waze and assured us that the road through the plantation was very good . There was a newly built bridge over the river and the exit was south of Quepos. We asked if he thought that there would be a barricade on that bridge and he thought not. With a gesture at the cars driving north, he recommended that we follow them. And with that endorsement, we set off.
As promised the plantation road was relatively smooth. There were a small number of cars making left and right turns along the palm shaded gravel road leading deep into the plantation. We were feeling very heartened until we came around a bend to see cars pulled up on the side of the road. Unfortunately, the new bridge was barricaded too. M did more recon and returned with the rumour that this bridge would open at 6 pm. It was now 4 pm. There was another route on Waze where the road ran a little further east, crossed a river, and proceeded back to the highway. We saw a couple cars heading in that direction and decided to follow. We moved out of the plantation into bucolic fields of cows grazing on lush pastures interspersed with farm homes. When we pulled up to the river crossing, we could see a wide, flat water flow that was broken into channels with low lying islands of loose gravel. The water was fast flowing and there was no way to determine the depth. Lined up on this side of the river were four pick-up trucks driven by Ticos. The men were standing near their vehicles watching the river. None of them looked eager to cross. Ticos are very familiar with crossing rivers. When M first came to this area to surf, there were no bridges across the many narrow creeks. We decided that if the Ticos weren't willing to attempt a crossing then we would be crazy try. We returned to the small group waiting at the plantation bridge and just after dark, the protestors removed the barricade and off we went again.
Our next hurdle was a town called Palmar Norte, a major transportation hub in southern Costa Rica. This is where the Costanera highway (which we usually travel) meets the Inter-American Highway (the main north- south highway in Central America.) When I say "major" that indicates there are 2 medium-sized service stations that cater to large transport trucks. There is a very small airport nearby that has 2 flights a day with tourists heading to Corcovado National Park, a designated World Wildlife Biosphere. The town is probably only 500 people. Just south of Palmar Norte is the Rio Grande de Terraba Bridge that spans Costa Rica's longest river. It is a steel structure bridge that is several hundred meters long. The protesters had blocked the bridge off and on all day. At some bridges, the protestors would open up for about 15 minutes and let some traffic pass. When we arrived in Palmar Norte there was a moderate amount of vehicles pulled up along the side of the highway indicating that earlier traffic had been allowed to pass. The rumour was that they might open at 10 pm, maybe midnight. The feeling was that everyone wanted to "stay in line" in case the bridge opened but really, we were settling in for the night. With sandwich fixings in the cooler, I made ourselves some dinner. M made his usual recon and chatted with a family who lived in a town near us. They had started their journey in the north at 4 am near the Nicaraguan border.
It was too dark to read and we didn't want to wear down the battery by playing the radio so we reclined our seats and tried to sleep. I can't say that it was a comfortable sleep but our trusted steed, the Galloper, provided us refuge.
Every few hours, there was a burst of activity up ahead. We'd think that the bridge was opening, we would slowly move a few hundred feet forward but then nothing happened. Late into the night, a group of young people sat on the grass nearby chatting and laughing with music faintly playing. Finally, just before dawn, we awoke to vehicles driving past us from the south. The bridge was open! And off on our journey we continued.
It was a lovely dawn with a cool low-lying mist crossing the fields and obscuring the road in some places. My phone still had juice thanks to my auxiliary travel battery pack that Mum and Robert gifted me in 2017. I opened Waze to look at the traffic flow in the next major town on our route. The little red dots that signify a road blockage were absent and we were feeling hopeful. But as the sun peaked over the treetops, the southbound lane in which we were traveling came to a stop. It was about 6 am and we'd been on the road for almost 24 hours. I was loosing my positive attitude about this adventure. M and I understood the protestors demands. The taxes to be instituted unfairly targeted the portions of the population who were already hit hard by the economic downturn caused by the pandemic. We were willing to support their cause but fervently wished to be allowed to go home and support them from there. We were considering a tactic that I call "woman in distress." Dr. Tovar's office was in a town just past this one. We could argue that I had an appointment with him but we didn't have any proof. Doctors' office message an appointment confirmation to your phone. I still had my plastic eye protector but it was packed in my suitcase and to make it look effective, I needed gauze and tape. M drove up to the barricade where we saw 2 transport trucks parked on the bridge looking like they weren't going anywhere, anytime soon. M chatted with a few locals standing nearby. M explained our situation and where we wanted to go. The man was kind enough to suggest a back route through Piedras Blancas National Park. The village of La Gamba was 7 km back up the highway. I pulled the route up on Waze and away we went. It is a spectacular drive through deep jungle. If we weren't so tired, we would have appreciated it more. We met several on-coming cars from the town of Golfito who as we were trying to circumnavigate the
blockades. From Golfito, it was another hour drive without interruption south to our home. We were as ecstatic to see Pinta and Soozi as they were to greet us. M and I were filled with joy at returning to our retreat. What normally would be a 6.5 hour drive took 26 hours.
While we were away, our neighbor Roy was looking after the dogs and our last hen standing named Honker. The day after our departure, Roy sent us a message that he couldn’t find the hen. We figured that she had succumbed to the jungle. After Pinta and Soozi's excitement at our return died down, Michael opened the garage door. To our immense surprise out strutted Honker looking healthy after 10 days of accidental incarceration. In our hurry to leave, I didn’t notice as I was distractedly pulling down the garage door that Honker had wandered into the garage. She must have fed on the scads of insects and scorpions living in the nooks and crannies It seems she didn’t need that much water.
Well, the adventure wasn't over yet. We made 3rd trip to San Josė in mid-October to see Dr. Ortiz and have stitches removed . By this time, the government had made concessions to the protestors that they didn't accept. The disruption to commerce was becoming untenable and the government banned huelga blockades. Surreptitiously, the protestors continued to cause havoc. This trip, we decided to leave the house a 1:45 am. The pandemic driving curfew prohibits non-essential travel between 10 pm and 5 am. I obtained a letter from Dr. Ortiz that authorized our travel as medically essential. Even though I didn't need it, I brought my post-surgery protective eye cover and adorned it with gauze and surgical tape, just in case we needed to institute the "woman in distress" tactic. It was a clear night and we were happily cruising along for 2 hours when traffic in our northbound lane of the coastal highway came to a complete halt. All the vehicles in front of us were transport trucks. We didn’t know what was happening, Waze was out of cell range so we sat patiently for about 15 minutes when an ambulance pulled up beside us. We saw the driver speaking to a policeman nearby. As the ambulance started forward, we made a snap decision to follow it. I had a medical emergency travel letter from Dr. Ortiz and my original eyepatch that I placed on my eye if we were stopped and questioned. Following the ambulance, we passed dozens of waiting transport trucks. There were a number of police and workers along the road who were removing several very large trees that had fallen across the highway. These trees had pulled down heavy duty power lines. At first, we thought that a freak storm must have blown them down. However, the downed trees were spaced very far apart and smaller trees were still standing. The protestors had cut down the trees to cause havoc. There were several power lines hanging too low across the road for the transports to pass. Cars could drive through the mess and at one spot, a policeman was standing on a thick power line to weight it down so cars could drive over it! The rest of that trip went so smoothly that I had an early appointment with Dr. Ortiz. He was pleased with my progress.
Our return for that trip took just 9 hours with only 2 blockades. We had huelga-free travel all the way to Dominical before we hit the first blockade. It was around 11 am and we pulled over in a shaded area. The scoop was that the blockade would open at 12:30. M pulled out "The Signature of All Things" and we sat comfortably. After we cleared the first blockade, we drove a few kilometers down the highway to a restaurant that we know. The Tracopa busses stop at La Sabana de Flor for dinner and bathroom breaks. We were at La Sabana for about 15 mins, used the restroom and bought take-out cold drinks. Back in the car, we felt relaxed and confident that the rest of the trip would be uneventful. We had only driven another kilometer where off in the distance of this long stretch of straight road, we saw a new blockade! The distance gave us time to put our “woman in distress” plan into action. I pulled up Dr. Ortiz's medical emergency travel letter on my phone before taping my eyepatch over my right eye. I slumped down in my seat to do my best to look pathetic as M came to a stop at the blockade. Luckily, we were the 1st car to pull up. As I cradled my eye, M jumped out of the car waving my cellphone and telling the protestor guarding the barrier that his wife was sick. The protester looked a little skeptical as he walked up to my window but he took one look at me (giving an award-winning performance) and waved us through. Yeah! That was the last of our huelga blockade experiences (for now.) Shortly after the President decided to table the new taxes and the huelga ended. I just read yesterday that the President is renewing his attempt at new taxes. I can see more huelga blockades in the future. Hopefully, we there will be no more emergencies and we can stay at home.
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