Walk this way...

Back in the day, I mentioned how noteworthy my daily trek to school is. I even hinted that maybe someday I would write about it in detail. I did this knowing full well that the probability of this happening was next to nil. Well, whaddyaknow? Someone's gotta win the lottery... (Not that your reading this will be nearly as cool, but, whatev.)

So. I make a 30 minute trek from the door of my house to (what, for me, amounts to) a central point on campus. There are two buses that I can take which get me closer, but by the time all is said done, I usually don't think it's worth it. I save neither time nor money and I get less exercise. So I trek it.

The trip begins as I step out of my family's carport, close and lock the small door behind me, and turn to face the morning before me. Almost invariably, it is at this moment that I contemplate digging out my sunglasses (usually it's between 8:45 and 9:00 in the morning) and ultimately decide it's not worth it. I'm not sure why I usually decide this, because I'm sure it actually is. As I squint into the morning sun and take off, up the slow incline of Avenida 2, I mentally take stock of all my possessions: Is my money in a safe place? Do I have my keys? Did I remember to bring a snack? On a scale of 1 to 10, how much of a gringa do I look like today? (I seem to have been doing well lately, on this particular note.)

About a block and a half to the east, I get to negotiate the teaming hordes of colegio students (US equivalent of 7th through 12th grades) that cluster, mil, gossip, trudge, meander and lounge around the Colegio Samuel Saenz at all hours of the day. Seriously. I have yet to notice a time of day between 7:00 am and 5:00 pm when the uniformed youth of Heredia are not out and about. Yes, they go home for lunch, but do they ever go to class? Maybe I'll never know.

I pass the colegio, the bus stop, cross the street where my favorite internet cafe resides (frequented primarily by gamers between the ages of 8 and 17 but endowed with largely decent machines), past the taxistas waiting for their next fare and up two blocks where I get to pass first, a bakery filled with and emanating all sorts of delicious smells and then, a butcher which smells decidedly less delightful.

I proceed from there up, what I like to call, the Cubujuqui hill. It is the one noteworthy little mountain in my trip and it runs through the neighborhood of Cubujuqui...hence my ever-so-original name. This involves passing the three aging gentlemen who sit on the red, cement bench, under the gnarly tree, at the bus stop and argue loudly over what I like to think is something resembling politics and the audacity of young whippersnappers these days. I've never stopped to find out but I will one of these days. Then, dodge the buses and taxis to cross a very large intersection next to the futbol stadium and sports complex, only to avoid the much shorter, polo t-shirted munchkins who perambulate without direction, about the primary school that sits at the top of the hill.

It is then another hop, skip and a jump (ie, about six blocks, four taxi dodgings, two pauses to wait for a bus to pass, one moment spent drooling over the adorable puppies in the pet shop window and thirty seconds spent waiting to pass a v e r y slow elderly lady on the narrow sidewalk) before I arrive at the parque central of Heredia. Heredia's central park is precisely that. It is a park in the center of Heredia, bound by rows of shops on two sides, the post office on one and the cathedral on the last. It is always full of people, pigeons, pairs of people making out and on Sunday there's a live band and usually a clown or two. It's a great place to take an hour or two to be local and people-watch, just avoid sitting to the south of the fountain because the wind blows and you will be wet and cold. However, I don't have time for such things as I wend my way to class...

Rather, I cruise past the park pretty quickly, adeptly avoiding the blind man selling lottery tickets on the corner (he wasn't there one day last week, I was worried something had happened to him), past a couple of shops with awkwardly displayed mannequins, a bookstore, an ice cream shop (!), the court house, cross the street again and off I go. From there on in, it's coffee shops, cheap pizza places, internet cafes and all manner of things that appeal to the university crowd. Finally, one block west of the university, I change direction and head north to avoid one of the biggest intersections in Heredia; bordered by a bookstore, Burger King, Papa John's and a university building, it's huge, noisy, smelly and a pain to try and get across any time of the day. Instead, I go up, pass the smaller intersection where three of the city's clubs are recuperating from a hard night, cut to the right, cross the very busy street directly in front of the university campus (that's an experience the first couple times) and ta-daa!

I've arrived!

And that's the story of my trip to school. The end.