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Blog Entry 4 of 4 Costa Rica to Boulder, with a side trip to Guilt
You can share my successes (few), failures (more) and misadventures (a bunch) with me as I navigate the complicated straits between a 92-year-old Mom in Florida who's working the Guilt Matrix full-bore, an ill long-term friend in Golden who's suffering mate-mismatch, and my own needs, that seem ephemeral most of the time, but female companiionship and spiritual peace seem to be involved and no, I don't want to hear about oxymoronism. I have my maniacal side but have never been convicted in a meaningful court. The good news is that I'm basically a Southern Gentleman upgraded to the present age (women CAN vote and own property), with a thin veneer of Boulder S.N.A.G (Sensitive New-Aged Guy), coupled with a cynical and wry sense of humor, a voracious reading appetite, and the determination to not suffer fools gladly. F---; at all. 'Nuff said.

Blog Url: http://denver.yourhub.com/~Sevaman

Costa Rican Diary: Paso Canoas: I am bled

Contributed by: Scott Mock   on 10/4/2006

Corruption in Central and South America started about the time of Cortes', and has been in the process of refinement ever since. There is fierce competition for jobs in Civil Service--especially where one offers a service to and deals directly withthe public-though salaries are minimal at best. There's a good reason for this lusting after a poorly-paid career in Public Service: they are a government and societal licence to steal, though to call it 'stealing' would be considered bad form.

Gringos--a term that encompasses US citizens, and to their chagrin, Canadians, have trouble adjusting to this very real situation and this causes problems on both sides. This is because our corruption is far less visible yet far more costly. American politicians are routinely bought and sold by those with interests that can be affected by government. If a lobbyist, for instance, funnels a few million dollars to a favord candidate for 'get-out-the-vote', or 'issue education' to a politician this is not considered a bribe even though the politician will, far more often than not, vote where the money is. This is legal. We call it issue advocacy, and access. We do not call campaign contributions what they are, which is bribes.

In Central and South America political bribes are very rarely necessary: the candidates have amassed a sizable treasury in the form of kickbacks from various projects steered to certain parties, voluntary 'contributions' from office-holders grateful for their appointment, and sometimes sizable bags of cash from various entities in return for lucrative contracts. The only difference between Them and Us is that they are Corrupt and we are Not Corrupt.

So...having extracted my little pickup from the claws of Puerto Limon customs at a fairly reasonable price (the average bribe at each stage being about $10) I emerged with my truck and a 90-day permiso de turismo. Sigh. That's where my troubles began. I left the truck with the kind Captain and returned to the U.S. with never a thought for the calendar. I returned some 80 days later, looked over my paperwork and discovered a small error: my permiso had expired ten days early.

Costa Rica has two police forces: the regular police who are supposed to have some interest in the prevention of the usual sorts of crime--and the dreaded ' transito'. These are the transit police who patrol the highways always on the alert for some malfunction in one's devilishly-complicated transit paperwork. I don't mean just a license and registration--but the marchamo and the registro, both of which are more closely intertwined than a West Virginia family reunion.

I had my permiso prominently displayed in the windshield but also most probably the only set of Colorado license plates in the country. In short, I was a sitting duck-and a fat one-for any transito minion lucky enough to pull me over and take a close look at my papers. I took the wisest course and, like 75% of the drivers in Costa Rica, dodged the transito. This is not so easy, as they know our tactics as well as we do and consequently move their impomptu 'inspection' stations more often than a mamba changes trees. A transito has only to look directly at an oncoming vehicle and wave it to the side of the road with a casual flip of the hand. One then is obligated to stop meekly and allow them to examine your (surely flawed in some way) papers. That is, if it's clear to both of you that you've seen the order to stop.

Like other Ticos, I avoided known transito haunts: well-traveled roads, blind curves, hospital zones, tunnels, popular Ho'houses,etc., and took seriously oncoming drivers' flashing lights. If I had to actually pass a transito team I made sure that I was behind a large truck and never, but never looked directly at them. On a remote but fairly well-traveled road out on the Nicoya Peninsula I have seen fifty or sixty vehicles sprawled across the road and into adjoining fields, all awaiting the signal that the transito vipers have called it a day. Rain is a blessing, as the transitos have a well-known aversion to getting wet or cold. Beneath the cover of a tropical downpour they'd ignore a flaming 747 sliding down the highway spewing bales of coca.

I did well for a long time but eventually had to decide whether or not to take the truck out of Costa Rica for 72 hours-not a great inconvenience as there lay only 200 or so miles between Nicaragua to the north and Panama to the south-and renew my tourist permit for another 90 days (with consequent additional mordida), or bite the bullet and register the truck in Costa Rica. I chose the latter; and there my troubles began anew, as doing the right thing in Central America is not always the right thing.

But there were compensations: I met a quadralingual coca marketer, was forced to ask a passer-by what country I was in, paid $20 for a four-minute visit to Panama, saw a tiny passenger car crushed by a massive banana freighter, and met a stately Tico with a flashlight that barely pierced the fierce rainfall who translated a motorcycle embedded into the gummy banks of a roaring freshet into an epitaph for its vanished rider. I met and chatted with a few ' 5-Ks', Paso Canoas' mobile hooker squad who could swing themselves up onto a semi's running board, slither through the window, and be back working the other side of the road 5 kilometers later. I met a barefoot barmaid who could bend bottle caps with her toes and had a most beautiful smile.

But that's Costa Rica, and coming up next is the Ride Into Hell. Stay tuned. All will be well; my integrity somewhat tattered but intact.

Your not-so-Innocent Abroad


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Submitted By: Brendan Leonard
posted on 10/6/2006 @ 9:44:05 AM
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More!
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Submitted By: Jeff Thomas
posted on 10/4/2006 @ 10:03:56 AM
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Great, as always. But this one I can print! Your friendly neighborhood web host.
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CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Scott Mock

Boulder , CO

Scott Mock has posted 4 blog entries and 0 comments since joining on 9/14/2005. Scott Mock 's average blog rating is 4.92.
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