Burger King Delivery

I had another Costa Rican first tonight. For the first time since arriving in Costa Rica over a year ago, I ordered Burger King to be delivered to the house. I was so ashamed at the thought but, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it.

My friend Lauren came over to play cards and I asked her if she would judge me for ordering a BK solo order to the house and surprisingly she loved the idea and wanted in. Turns out, I had no guilt ordering in BK for two. There was just something shameful in my head about Burger King coming on a motorcycle for one person.

Also, it can be really hard to order food here. It has to be really worth the extra effort. Obviously the phone call itself can be hard because of the rapid fire questions being thrown at you in Spanish, but the hard part is actually in the address. Well, the lack of address that is. There are no addresses in Costa Rica. Let me say that again.

There are no addresses in Costa Rica.

To tell a taxi or delivery driver or even a friend how to get to my house I have to say from the Bridge 100 meters West, 300 meters South, 25 East, white house, black gate. That is my address. And it doesn’t even matter that I just put it online for the whole world to see, you can’t even find it when you’re looking for it.

People on both sides of the argument go crazy about the address system, the critics and the loyal defenders. Honestly, most of the time I don’t mind the lack of address. I like knowing the city by landmarks. Usually the direction system works how it’s supposed to.

It's hard, though, when streets are on an angle, as is the case in my neighborhood. This causes a lot of disagreement about which way is South and which way is West. Many times I’ve asked taxi drivers while I’m in the cab for confirmation of my version of my address and the answers I get are always different. I’ve even asked my landlords and neighbors who have lived in the neighborhood for 20+ years and they say, “Oh yeah, that sounds alright.” Nobody really knows.

When ordering food however, the lack of address means I have to wait with my door open and as soon as I hear a moto racing around the neighborhood frantically blowing its horn I have to run outside, out the gate, and down to the corner to flag them down before they whiz by completely. Those time when they whip through the neighborhood really suck because I have to wait another five minutes as they start through the whole neighborhood again, flying up and down the streets beeping their obnoxious little horns the entire time.

The horn blowing makes it a shameful act again as I wait on the street corner in my pajamas in front of all the neighbors checking out who's being summoned by the fast food delivery man.

The worst part is that after getting over the shame, navigating my Spanish through the ordering process, and flagging down the delivery moto, I ate too much and am now in a food coma.