Last Bus Trip to Santa Cruz

Yesterday we took our last bus trip to Santa Cruz. During our last visit to Costa Rica we were told about the pottery in Guatil, which is 10km to the East of Santa Cruz. Guatil is famous for it's pottery. Here is a short blurb of Guaitil I copied from Planetware.com.
"This small community is famous for pottery making. About 100 families here engage in the pottery industry, most of them descendants from Chorotega Indians who once inhabited the area. The pots are made in a
variety of sizes and shapes from local clays. They are fashioned in the pre-Columbian Chorotega Indian style, and are painted using natural colors. Artisans sell the pots in front of their houses, and lucky visitors may be invited inside to watch the potting process. Most of the ceramics seen decorating homes, restaurants and hotels in the Guanacaste province come from Guaitil."

We got to Santa Cruz and the minute you step off the bus at the bus station they have these "taxi drivers" trying to get you to take their ride. Some of them are drunk, they all are smoking one after the other, and they look a little desperate. I had read in a tourism book to always take an official taxi. They are red and have the traditional taxi light on the top of the car. As I was explaining this to Jack, we decided to walk to the center of town where I was sure I had seen taxi's lined up in the street. Sure enough, we got to the main area and there must have been 10 or so red taxis waiting for gringo's like us. I walked up to the nicest looking taxi driver, who was sitting in his taxi, and asked him "Usted conduce a Guaitil? ¿Y si es así cuánto costará? "Si" he said and we loaded up in his taxi. It was 6 mil colones. $12 bucks. We could do that and I didn't feel like haggeling. As we were driving along this gorgious road up into the mountains, through beautiful fincas, looking at the vacas, we were also driving into a major rain storm. We got to the tiny town of Guaitil and it was pouring rain. Luckily, I remembered the umbrellas, which we only brought 2 for the trip. I kept meaning to buy 2 more but never got around to it. So, we had to share our little umbrellas and run to the closest house which was open with clay pots and tons of other handmade clay items. The Tico's who live here were all hanging out in the back of the store, which is where they make their clay pots. He brought us back to that area and proceeded to give us a demonstration on how they go about making these things. It was wonderful to get a little class on this. Plus it was raining buckets, literally, and we needed somewhere to get out of the rain. Lucky break. The one guy was explaining to us how they collect the clay and what it looks like when they get it. Then they ground it up into a super fine sand with this huge grinder that looks like a giant muddle. As he is explaining this to me I am trying as best I can to translate to the girls what he is saying. Then, this other guy is actually making a pot and showing us the process of that. He whips up this pot in no time. It was impressive. They also had 3 bowls of natural color that they gather from the earth. Everything is done by hand. It's very cool. We bought a pot before we left. We ran, in the rain, to his neighbors and the neighbor had many of the same stuff only designed by him and made by him and his family. His daughter was crafting as we were walking on their dirt floors looking around. It was messy with the rain, dirt and flip flops. Some homes even closed their doors. I don't blame them. We walked down the road to the next home and Jack and I are both thinking the same thing. That taxi dropped us off and there is not a car, taxi, person, bus in sight. It's raining and how the heck are we going to get back. We step into the next home and the elderly man is admiring my Jade necklace that Jack brought back for me from New Zeland. He goes into his living room and gets his Jade necklace and slips it around Jordan's neck. He wants us to buy it but we don't. I'm eyeing one of his pots though. I'm thinking it would be perfect for salsa or guacamole or some other condiment. I ask him how much and this time I try to haggle. No way. He stands firm, even as we walk out. Jack meanwhile, is talking to the man, about our age, on the front step. I walk back in and buy the damn pot at full price because I like the guy. We all get a chuckle out of this and we're all satisfied. Jack, this whole time, is asking the guy about taxi's and do they come back? How often? Etc. He tells us at 4:30 to go over to the corner over there in the green building and one will be there. We slowly make our way over to the green building and the guy our age is following us and whistling at us. We see him pointing to a guy with an umbrella and he's explaing to us that this is our taxi driver. We ask him how much. This time it's 5 mil. $10 bucks. He is the brother of the guy our age and his brother obviously called him on the cell phone and he came out of his house to make a buck. We go to his house and he's explaining to us that they are brothers and they live here together with their families and so on. Hannah goes into panic mode because THIS IS NOT A RED, OFFICIAL TAXI MOM!! Man, that girl is a sponge. Well, this guy was not drunk and he had a nice enough car that had the Virgin Mary stuck on the window and a picture of Jesus as well. Plus the rosary was hanging from the rear view mirror. I felt safe indeed. We chatted, small talk, he spoke no English as has been our experience here. I asked him to recommend a restaurant in Santa Cruz and he knew of a good one and dropped us off right in front of it. We thanked him and had a wonderful, cheap early dinner before catching our bus. What another great experience. We loaded the bus and got to sit right up front. I like the front seats so I can see the road and all of the things we are about to run over. It adds to the thrill. Hannah and I sat together and we were holding hands saying, "goodbuy Santa Cruz, goodbuy Panilla bus, goodbuy nice bus driver, goodbuy mean bus driver." It was sad and we were both feeling the sadness of our last bus trip into Santa Cruz. The bus smelled of fish and sweat and the guy didn't drive with the door open, unlike the other drivers. It was a stuffy ride back. The Tico's like to have the windows up during the night. I've noticed that they all put the windows up. One guy asked us, in Guaitil, if we were cold. I thought that was funny. It's all relative.
We got home at 7:30 and sat by the pool listening to the frogs. They were loud last night. They're loud every night. It was a fun day. I can't wait to see Guaitil again and actually spend some time there walking around more. My Mother would have loved that part.