Where The Streets Have No Name

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OK so after 24 hours of traveling I have eventually made it here to Costa Rica. I have booked in with a Spanish school in Playa Jaco and have decided to go the whole way and book in with a family stay as well, apparently it is the best way to learn and as my family is made up of Miriam the mother and her 4 daughters (of which only 1 speaks English) you can appreciate I am catching on pretty fast. Also as the family owns a Soda (small outdoor local café) I have been meeting and talking to a lot of local people which is really cool as I feel I have really immersed myself in the Tico (Costa Rican people) lifestyle and culture. One example is when I went to a Latin American disco with the family and their friends on Saturday night, the place was in the countryside so it was full of locals (I was the only gringo) and the dancing from all ages was absolutely fantastic…. Did I have a go ? Well, after a few beers and half an hour of studying footwork I think I managed to blag the basics of the salsa, but anything else was out of my league.
Surf…. The surf has been unusually small at 4 to 6 foot, which has been just right for my novice long board skills, and I have been getting out on most days.

So, why the title to this week’s entry, well I spoke to my Mum and she was asking for the address of where I was living, and I had to explain that the road is just a pot holed dirt road and it doesn’t have a name... the street has no name... mmm....

I wanna run, I want to hide
I wanna tear down the walls
That hold me inside.
I wanna reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name.

I wanna feel sunlight on my face.
I see the dust-cloud
Disappear without a trace.
I wanna take shelter
From the poison rain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name.



Wise words Bono fella !

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