My trip to Costa Rica was coming up soon. My biggest problem was the decision as to whether I should take my surfboard or leave it at my mom's house in El Salvador. After I found out how much it cost to take my board with me ($100 each way!), the decision was an easy one to make.

In order to get to Costa Rica, I had to fly through Panama, which was a trip. Their airport was really nice, super high-tech. I arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica on June 17, 2002. I carried my duffel bag and backpack through Customs. All I had on me was traveler's checks and I had no clue as to where I would spend the night. I got directions to an ATM machine that was hooked up the US network and exited the airport terminal. On my way out, I was asked by a stranger, as he flipped through a small photo album, if I would like to stay in his hotel that he and his wife ran . I immediately asked him if he took traveler's checks. Once he agreed to my method of payment I was happy to go with him and looking forward to sleeping.

The next morning I awoke to a feeling of panic, had I missed the bus down to Jacó? I didn't have my watch on me and I knew that if I missed the bus at 7:38, I would have to wait for the not-as-reliable and a hell-of-a-lot-hotter afternoon bus, missing some choice mid-day waves in the process. Somehow, I got onto the bus without a problem.