IMPORTANT NOTES FROM JUSTIN:
San José, Costa Rica
It's not that San José, Costa Rica sucks or anything.
Ok. Yes it does.
It's just not interesting and the people aren't terribly cute or underdressed. Even the tourists wearing inappropriately too little clothing aren't the sweetest of eye candy. They're quite the bitter pill, actually. Ah, but that's ok. There are other things to worry about, for example, logistics.
Dealing with the five of us here is like herding cats at times. The propagation delay to do the simplest thing isn't five times longer than one person. It's more like you take the amount of time it would take for one person to do it and then you raise it to the fifth power. I don't mind too much, though—the point of this trip for me is to be around my friends.
And, today was a great dose of friends. Not only did I get to run around the city with my adventure–mates, but we also got to feast with Dave and Ray. They happened to be here on their way back to the USA from the Galapagos. So, the five of us plus to the two of them made a small party of our own and ate some typical—in other words bland—comida centroamericano for dinner. The food's elegant presentation and the ambiance of the restaurant were perfectly balanced out by a startling dullness of flavor and the sounds of twisted xylophone music drifting in from the plaza outside.
Through the meal we joked about how the tunes sounded like an afflicted Atari 2600 or maybe a video poker machine on its death bed. Curiosity got the best of him and Jovino went to go investigate where the bad noise was coming from. He came back and tapped my shoulder. "Justin, you have to see this."
Two grandfatherly men hit mallets against tuned slats of wood, eeking out some distorted square wave killer klown soundtrack to an imaginary casino snuff film from 1984. I took a photo and tipped them.
After dinner the seven of us walked a few blocks back to a restaurant just around the corner from our hostel. Bakeo was the name and world class fusion food was the game. We had a sampler of seven desserts plus a low–flour chocolate soufflé cake to wash it all down.
The food was better than naked oil wrestling day at a Swedish cheerleader camp. But, Dave accidentally setting his beard on fire by getting it in the way of a candle was what really brought the post–meal meal together. Things are just better when someone gets set on fire.
Now I'm back in the lobby of Hostel Pangea. A few American men sit to my left at the free internet stations. A Spanish–speaking man talks on a phone in the far corner of the room. Scott and Jovino play casino games across the street. Dave and Cynthia sleep. I should go sleep, too. We have to wake up at 5:30 AM to hop on a bus tomorrow. Jovino booked us an adventure tour—volcanoes, river rafting, and some other things which I don't remember because I wasn't even paying much attention as I handed him my $79 for the two day tour fee.
Ah, sleep. It's only 8:25 PM local time, but maybe it's time to call it a night.
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