Living in the third world country of Costa Rica has its ups and downs. I moved there at the age of twelve with the rest of my family, not knowing or ever having visited this place that I was to call home for the next nine years. We arrived at the airport of San Jose late in the afternoon. It was the rainy season, my father informed me as we walked from the ramp into the hectic crowd of passengers all on their way to the immigration counter in hopes of getting there first.
It seemed to me that everyone was a little pushier than normal or just very eager, like there was a bomb in the plane. As we got to the counter I could see a large window above us with nothing but little eyes glaring at us. We finally made it outside which was mu
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