That's the ticket
When we finished shopping (Kevin loves shopping, checking things out, comparing prices, etc. — I, on the other hand, hate shopping. Always have. I'm a 'this-looks-good-let's-get-it-and-get-the-hell-outta-here' kind of shopper) we walked back to our parked car. We had been told that as long as you park where there is a white line, you're okay. Just don't park anywhere there's a yellow line. Well that rules apparently only applies to Santa Maria and San Marcos. A parking ticket was stuck between the windshield and wiper. Ugh! We went into one of the shops to ask where we can pay the ticket. They were very helpful and we found the blue buildingthey described easily enough. We wondered if this was going to be like standing in line for the bank... would we be there for hours? We were pleasantly surprised when we walked in and found that we were the only ones there. We went up to the woman behind the desk and showed her the ticket. She didn't speak a word of English, but she took the ticket and processed it and took our $5. That was easy. Lesson learned, get a parking voucher if you park on the street in San Isidro. Although it wasn't overly painful, I'm classifying getting a parking ticket in Central America an adventure, as neither Kevin or I have ever had a parking ticket... ever. Here's to new experiences!
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Dave and Krista are a couple from the Pacific Northwest that led overwhelmingly busy lives.
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