May 17, 2004
I thought that Jamaica was laid back, but I was wrong. Costa Rica is more laid back without being so inefficient. Nobody ever seems to be in a hurry here, but whatever you ask for, you get fairly quickly. Plus, you don't have all the beggars, scamps, hustlers and drug dealers hopping out of the bushes everywhere you go. I really like this place.
I'm off on the Pacific coast now, just outside of the town of Martin Antonio. A bunch of French people checked into the hotel yesterday, and they really fucked up my head. After four days of immersing myself in Spanish, just hearing that nasal, bwa-nah-duhh-fonk accent hit my ears like a belt sander. Plus, what is it with European men and those root-suit bathing suits they wear? Got-dam! If I were a middle-aged old fart with a pot-belly the size of a #3 washtub and a dick the resembling a stack of American dimes thirty cents tall, I WOULD NOT wear that kind of modified jockstrap in public, at least not without sticking a rolled-up sock in my crotch to pretend that I was out to advertise my equipment.
Frenchmen do, and it ain't a pretty sight.
I am becoming brown as a gingercake (yes, the Bronze God is back!) and I have life down to a science now. Wake up in the morning and eat a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, rice with black beans, fresh fruit (the watermelon here is sweeter than anything I ever tasted in Georgia, and that's saying a lot) and a big glass of mango juice. Then, go lay out by the pool and read for a while. Drink a beer around noon, then go back to my room for a siesta.
Eat lunch after I wake up. Drink a couple of cervesas and go into town for a while. Spend a few colones. Come back to the hotel and lay out by the pool some more. Sit around the bar and watch the sunset while I meet people from all over the world. Go flirt with Cynthia at the reception desk and check my email on the clanky dial-up connection they have here.
After that, return to the bar and practice speaking Spanish. I'm getting better every day, because the ticos LIKE IT when los Americanos experiment with their language. They are excellent coaches and they are as friendly as any people I've met in my life.
Folks, I am not kidding. If I knew before what I know now, this would not be my first trip to Costa Rica. I guarantee that it won't be my last.
I'm on the Pacific Ocean, but this isn't a place to surf. The beach is rocky and the waves are small. I'm going to another place the day after tomorrow, where the waves are supposed to be a surfer's paradise. That's where I'm probably going to break my fool neck. What the hell. If I'm going to die, I can't think of a better place to do it.
That's the end of this post. It's time for lunch and another relaxing sprawl around the pool. Maybe a cervesa or two. Some more Spanish practice.
I'm having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.
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