My Summer Love Story | ✔️

ch. 5 ✰ welcome to Costa Rica

I sit inside of the taxi and eye a tan-skinned driver in the front, speaking Spanish obsessively on the phone. Once he notices I am in the car, he quickly says goodbye to the person on the phone and looks over at me once he hung up. Then he starts spitting Spanish to me in a rapid-fire tone. My eyes widen in surprise, but then again, I am always used to being mistaken for being Mexican because I don't even look Indian, to be honest. The only thing that would pretty much identify me as Indian would be my brown tan skin and the Om tattoo on my wrist.

"Um, excuse me, sir?" my voice wobbles as he looks at me confusingly. "Me no speak uh... Español," I mutter. I knew I should've taken Spanish in high school instead of French! "I speak English—um, Ingles," I grin.

"Oh!" he bursts out laughing. "My apologies." He has a thick accent and clears his throat. "Do you have address?"

"Yes, I do!" I grin. I show him the address as he copies it down onto his personal address. "You live here?" he looks at me warily.

"Um, no, not exactly," I answer. "My friend lives there."

"Wow, your friend must be rich then," he chuckles to himself. "This house very big."

When Ayushi told me she had a private home here at Costa Rica, she never talked about the size of it, which is very concerning because she is not humble whatsoever, considering how rich the woman is. And the fact that this man is claiming their private home here is huge and expensive really makes me think that not only they are rich—but they are rich rich to the point where they might even hang out with the Obamas every weekend.

"Oh, that's interesting," I murmur.

"Yeah," he smiles. "Well, enough talking. Let's get you to your friend, huh?"

I nod my head and the driver starts the engine, setting the car forward. To be honest, I am really nervous to meet Ayushi, and not just Ayushi but the people she said that were coming along as well. I bet they are already there at her villa because I am highkey late and arriving there is going to be really awkward. I briefly look down my outfit and make sure that I am looking good and not like a paralyzed demon that got ran over by a school bus. Coming out of a long ass flight really makes you smell like a sewer, so I pull out my deodorant from my mini backpack and quickly run them over my armpits. Better safe than sorry. Then, I speedily brush my hair, apply some Chapstick and straighten my clothes out. There, I look much better now.

My eyes travel out the window as my mouth gapes open, admiring the magnificent scenery. As the car moves forward, the palm trees show up in blurs and the sun rays reflects against the car window as the sun beats down on top of us. Then, I lower the car window as a huge rush of wind flows in the car. I lean my head out the window, close my eyes and feel a genuine smile growing on my lips. A faint beach smell fills my nose as I take it in, admiring every bit and sense of it. Afterwards, I gradually open my eyes and see mini stores and bars set up, a random club in the corner of the street and many restaurants. There are so many families too with little kids running around, squealing and gushing with happiness.

Tropical music plays in the distance and I hear crowds of people laughing, conversing with each other, and enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other. I feel my heart pang with sadness because I don't know how it feels to really enjoy someone's company. Maybe because there haven't really been loyal or trustworthy people in my life, or maybe I never really enjoyed anyone's company. I don't know, but I truly don't know how it feels to really enjoy life. And hopefully this trip will make me feel otherwise.

About ten minutes later, the car pulls into a quiet neighborhood. There are mud houses built with clay, as I have seen in Arizona or Southern California, and they are on opposite sides of the road with trees in every corner. I hear faint laughter and chattering from the sides, some voices of children too. Are people really this happy during vacation? I don't know how it feels to be happy.