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I´m currently in San Jose, at a giant backpacker´s hostel called Pangea. It looked quite ominous from the outside, with its metal barred walls and giant curls of barbed wire lining its rooftop, but once inside (after gaining entry approval from the door guardsman and passing through a hallway of security cameras and another barred doorway) it opened up to a common area with color splashed walls painted with forest murals of moss and knotty trees and gnomes and trippy swirling ceiling art. The upstairs boasts a glass enclosed bar and restaurant and an assortment of couches to sink into, where you can see the rooftops of San Jose sprawling around you.
We caught a bus in Montezuma at six thirty this morning after a relaxing last day spent playing pool, strolling along the beach, and eating falafal burgers and mint lemonade at a quirky organic restaurant for lunch with Molly-Trey Laura-Stephen before they left us to catch a flight back home. We checked out of our much loved Luna llena hotel tucked away on a jungle hilltop overlooking the ocean, and settled on a $10 a night room at Hotel Lucy With Kitchen (it´s full name, no pauses, all
capitalized), which turned out to be a deal and a half with its hammock and rocking chair filled back porch teetering on the edge of the ocean, waves lapping up against it.
In the tiny town center of Montezuma there is a shop with a sign on the door "if we are not here, we are out surfing, and will be back at low tide," which pretty much captures the essence of the Montezuma mindset in a single statement. I´ve only been in bustling San Jose for a couple of hours, and already I find myself missing that mindset.
Our bus ride out of Montezuma began in adventure, with rains from the night before leaving the nearly vertical ride out of town more treacherous than usual. About halfway up, our bus driver asked us all hastily to please exit out of al frente (the front) of the bus, and relocate to the rear, in hopes that the redistribution of weight would help us chug straight up an over. While instructing us to do this, the bus driver started either reversing down hill (or sliding perhaps I´m still not sure) at a much-too-fast-for-comfort pace, nearly colliding into the van
behind us who didn´t seem to understand what was happening, and nearly tipping us over the precariously close edge. Yeesh. But apparently buddy was onto something with the whole weight redistribution deal because "Vertical Bus Climb Take Two" was a success, and we foreign passengers not quite yet accustomed to such early morning adventures cheered and hurrahed and resumed normal breathing patterns. The handful of stalwart local adults however, only loosened their grips on the seat in front of them and continued chatting amongst themselves, while the crowd of school girls uniformned in light and navy blue remained alltogether uninterested in the whole ordeal and continued to be absorbed in their homework.
We´ve been blessed with near-perfect weather, and the rains have mostly hit after we'e crashed for the evening or when we first wake up. Costa Rican time is a funny thing, and the combination of early morning sounds of the jungle and either waves or rain with a five am sunrise gets us awake and alert whether we´re ready to be or not. It´s dark by six p.m., which is not such a terrible thing, because we are consistently finding ourselved exhausted from the sun and sand
and our jaunts and wanderings of the day and ready to hit the sack by nine or ten. What a veritable pack of party animals we are. Lord.
The city of San Jose has been dubbed by most of the guidebooks as someplace primarily to avoid as much as possible, unless you're keen on visiting the Jade or Gold Museum, or checking out a show at the intricately designed, lavish Teatro Nacionale. The consensus all seems to be that it's best to stay indoors at night, lest you be robbed by some unsavory character lurky in city's shadows.
Despite the warnings, I still find San Jose endearing. While it may not be brimming with trendy shops and shiny supermarkets or world famous parks and plazas, San Jose seems to possess it's own sort of haphazard charm. I didn´t once feel the urge to tuck my bag more snugly under my arm while making the trek down the city sidewalk in search of an Atm (which was by the way, manned by a friendly bank security guard on one side and a little boy taking a potty break against the building on the other side).
San Jose is
filled with endless strips of stores packed with crates of colorful fruits and barbie dolls and chicken wings and jansport backpacks (side by side, all selling a seemingly identical collection of wares) mixed with pedestrian chaos (schoolkids piling off the bus into sidewalks full of harried proffessional chatting away on their cellphones, gossiping young girls in varying shades of neon flip flops, and groups of old men gathered at plastic tables playing intense poker games while little boys peer over their shoulders). It all combines to make for an oddly endearing collection of people and things. San Jose seems to be a step outside of the Costa Rican world dominated by tourist themes and aims to please. Here there are no pretenses and fewer attempts to impress. People just keep doing their thing, while we pass through with our backpacks and guidebooks and looks of constant confusion, and they hardly seem to notice.
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jesspeanut
Jessie Wells
Lizards for Phyllis
PB, these lizard pics are for you (and Micheal Lizard Breath Surles who actually saw the suckers in real life!) I wish I could have gotten a shot of the biggest one we saw...lordy!