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Published: February 13th 2009
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Carlos' Place
Eatin' good in the neighborhood... One of the things that I enjoy most about traveling is the chance to interact with locals of where ever I am. Most of the time, you will get the inside scoop on a place, and in the end, make a new friend. Another one of my pleasures of traveling is trying out local restaurants, rather than eating in a hotel or at a chain place I could have anytime in the states. When these two forces combine into one in the town of Tamarindo on the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica, the outcome was by far one of the most interesting dining experiences I've ever had...
After one dinner of hotel food, our group vowed that we would not eat the inclusive buffet for our evening meal the rest of the time we were at our hotel. Thus, we had to venture into the town of Tamarindo to find some eats. The first night we ventured into town, our cab literally dropped us off in the center of the main (yet relatively small) drag of Tamarindo. Since it wasn't the peak season, a lot of restaurants, shops, and bars were all closed. As we walked along the street, we were approached by a dude carrying a trash bag in one hand, and a rucksack on his back. He said "Hey, you guys looking for something to eat? You want pizza? You want burger?" We replied with a no. Shortly, this turned into "You guys want weed, I got that too!" As we continued to walk down the main stretch, we noticed one restaurant that was open and looked semi-decent. Traveler be warned, when the outside menu is in english, they are gunning for the out-of-towners. Since it was one of the only things open, we decided to eat at this fine establishment. We were greeted by the waiter/matridee/man about town Carlos, who didn't speak the best of english. However, being pretty fluent in Spanish, he immediately latched on to me, and I became the mouthpiece for the group. As we were one group of tourists out of two in the entire restaurant, it was pretty safe to see we had the place almost to ourselves. But something didn't seem all that right. Why is there a dog just milling around the interior? Why does this feel like a run down Italian restaurant in the states? Regardless, we all braced ourselves for the ride.
Nothing on the menu really jumped out to me, but it had your basic Costa Rican fare fused with some Italian dishes. In the end, I ended up getting seafood pasta with shrimp and clams over linguini. The rest of the gang got either fish or chicken, which looked like safe bets. Now, our boy Carlos wanted to make sure we had a good time with our meal. Coming over to the table, (in spanish), Carlos asks "Jeff, do you like music?" Sure, Carlos, but we don't need one of those traveling mariacchi bands, do we? Sure enough, Carlos ran onto the street and got the band to play one round of "La Bamba" for us. "Do you want another song?" No, Carlos, we're good. Carlos then tried to make small talk with me, and then asked if we had a car. Why Carlos, will you be breaking into our ride at the hotel later? Our food finally came out, and every 2 minutes, Carlos proceeded to ask me if everything was ok, or if we needed anything else. No, Carlos, we're fine. The food was ok, but I wouldn't write home about this meal. As it was time to get the check, one of us ordered a coffee, which never came out. We got the check, and noticed that Carlos had put it on our tab. I pulled him aside and said "Hey, we never got the coffee!" Right away, Carlos ran to the back and put on a fresh pot. Clever one, isn't he? Of course, since this wasn't a restaurant where locals didn't really hang out at, the prices were a little high, and Carlos knew he was going to be making a few colones this evening.
As we were about to leave, I realized that we needed two cabs back to the hotel. With no other choice, I asked Carlos if he could call a cab for us. Sure enough, he whipped out his phone, and within minutes, a cab comes rolling down the street with one right behind. Ian and I went in one cab while the other guys went in another. I thanked Carlos and told the driver to step on it. Now this is where my Spanish skills really came into play. On the ride home, I talked to the driver and made him laugh in Spanish. When we got back to the hotel, we only charged us $6 for the ride. Meanwhile, the other guys got hit with a $20 fare for the exact same ride. As the say, what a bunch of gringos..
I think it's safe to say that I can check Carlos' place off my list of restaurants to visit next time I am in Tamarindo, but I'm sure he's sweet-talking others right now....
Until next time, safe travels.
-Kacz
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