I left Florence at 7 a.m. December 16th with no agenda, no reservations and a good amount of faith. I arrived in San Jose at 1:45 and got through customs and immigration smoothly. Just past customs I found a tourist information desk. Now in the states those desks often do little more than pass out brochures. They cannot recommend a place which seriously limits their usefulness. I’m sure that competitiveness among the hotels contributes to that state of affairs. Who wants to support a tourist bureau that sends visitors to a rival? Fortunately, they don’t have that limitation in San Jose and when I suggested I wanted a place in town for $20 the woman called and made a reservation for me at Hotel Fortuna. I found it interesting that hotel rates were frequently quoted in dollars and payable either in dollars or colones. She told me I could take a taxi for $10 but also gave me directions for taking the bus for 100 colones (50 cents). Next to the tourist booth was a place to change money and in no time I was climbing on a brightly colored bus. The driver, like most Costa Rican bus drivers, drove with the door open and with frequent use of the air horn navigated through traffic. By 3 p.m. I was ensconced in a clean room with a private bath, towels, soap and hot water--more luxury than I had planned on.

That evening I explored the town eating my dinner in a soda or diner at Calle 33. It was the first of many meals I ate in one of these small eateries frequented by natives. I had Gallo Pinto , a black bean and rice dish that everyone eats in Costa Rica. When you order, especially breakfast its a matter of pinto and something such as eggs, hamburger steak or ham. At Soda Yuseff I expereinced a place with a neat family feel to it. Everyone knew everyone and even though I stood out nobody paid much attention to me. Food was cheaper than in the U. S. but not by much. I ate with impunity in little sodas all over and drank tap water without any stomach problems. Across the street from Soda Yuseff sat a birghtly colored fruit stand and a bus stop advertising Imperial, the beer of Costa Rica.

San Jose has an interesting system of streets. The calles or streets run north south and the avenidas east-west. The numbering begins with Avenida Central and Calle Central. As you go east the streets have odd numbers and west even numbers. The avenues follow the same principal with even to the south and odd to the north. Thus my hotel was on avenida 6 between calles 2 and 4. That means it’s three blocks south of Avenida Central and 1 1/2 blacks west of Calle Central. It works well but a non-native speaker has to be careful because trientisiete (37) and trientiseis (36) which sound similar to my ear are roughly 36 blocks or 3.6 kilometers apart. At one point wanted to call a friend I’d met earlier in the day. I struggled to find a phone that worked and accepted coins. Half of them use cards only. In the process I had to ask some guy who told me to go to bolichi which was a word I didn’t know but do now: bowling. At the bowling alley I found the right phone and it worked fine. Costa Rica has one area code and you can call anywhere in the country for a few cents; if you can find a phone.

It’s pretty easy to meet other foreigners in Costa Rica. In fact, traveling with the backpackers as I did, it is almost obligatory. There’s a social norm that people trade information about where they’ve been, how much it cost, good places to stay and where to catch the bus. Bill, who’s been here with his job for an American company, told me good places to visit in Costa Rica including some place called Jaco where a guy named Marvin has a restaurant and Montezuma. Richard showed me around San Jose including some important services. He took me to Book Traders a secondhand store run by Angel. Angel is a 50ish red head who comes from Canada and was living in the Dominican Republic when she met her husband from Holland. They got married and moved here after Holland was too cold for her. Richard also took me to the bus station for busses going to Jaco. It’s in the Coca-Cola area just past the market. No one knew why it is called Coca-Cola but my guidebook claimed there used to be a bottling plant there. In any event he showed me where to buy a ticket the day before so that I’d be assured a seat on the bus. He took me to the Del Ray hotel which caters to foreigners with gambling, a bar and a bevy of prostitutes. Those three services weren’t for me but The Del Ray is also a nice place to sit on a couch and read the paper or use the rest room.

San Jose has narrow sidewalks full of people. They don’t push and shove and nobody seems to tell anybody to move: they just go around each other. The narrow sidewalks become even more impassable with the ubiquitous sidewalk stands selling everything from fruit to toiletries. I love the bustling outdoor markets. San Jose consists or a lot of nondescript buildings with an occasional government building of interest such as the museum of art and culture. My favorite place was the plaza between the Gran Hotel and the National Theater. I spent many hours sitting in the plaza or drinking coffee on the Gran Hotel’s verandah, watching people, buses and pigeons. Evenings before Christmas I sat outside with a friendly crowd and watched concerts with familiar Christmas melodies sung in Spanish.

After a few days in San Jose I reluctantly decided to leave and see some of the rest of the country. As much as I liked the capital city, it was time to move on. I took the bus to Jaco planning to stay a day or two and then head south to Quepos. I stayed nine days and when I left went north to Puntarenas; it was that kind of trip. Along the way the bus stopped in Orotina and by then we were all wilting in the humid heat, a significant contrast to the dry air in the 70’s in San Jose. When I got off the bus in Jaco I needed to find a place to stay and hoped it wouldn’t cost more than the 4400 colones I had been paying in San Jose. A fellow accosted me as I stepped off the bus and said he had a cabina to rent. My natural wariness of such an encounter gave way to the thought that I couldn’t be hurt by looking at his place in broad daylight. We chatted in Spanish as we walked a long block to the beach. He seemed like a good fellow if a bit of a go-getter. He retired as an educator of some sort in San Jose and now survived by renting and selling property to tourists. He even moves out of his very nice home at times to rent it. He took me to a little masonry entered from the beach. It had a garden in front with a heavily laden coconut palm growing out of the middle. The cabina had a private bath and a little kitchenette with a hot plate and refrigerator. The lack of hot water was not an issue because of the tropical climate in Jaco. When he told me that the place was 2500 colones I was sold. At $12 a night I’d have been happy with a lot less. I would be waking up to the sound of the surf. At night I could have heard the surf after the disco next door stopped for the evening, but never stayed awake long enough. Back home in Florence any noise keeps me awake, but in Costa Rica I slept soundly on some terrible beds with a lot of noise.

My host’s name was Melvin, pronounced like Melbean in Spanish, and he became a good friend. He knew of Marvin and had good things to say about him. As a matter of fact by the time I got over to see Marvin he already knew I was coming. Jaco is a small town with not much going on and people news travels fast. Marvin’s restaurant is named Suzie Q after his ex-wife who didn’t like it there and has gone back to Toronto or Ottawa or wherever in Canada they are from. Canadians are more common than Americans and I met so many that I forgot exactly where they all come from. Anyway Marvin’s trying, but not very hard, to sell the restaurant--his dream--to pay her off. Such is life. I went by to say hello and met Marvin and Sue, his waitress, as well as David and Trey. David has no hair, a huge belly and rarely wears a shirt. His massive expanse of skin, bronze from the sun glistens with sweat all the time in Jaco. He hails from Arkansas and takes life easy. He does get up and police the street to the beach and a section of the beach picking up all the trash. Costa Ricans’ have good hygiene and wear clean clothes but litter constantly. Trey is also a full-time resident of Jaco. In his late 20’s with blond hair and a body covered with tattoos, he’s here for the surfing. The first five people I met in Jaco were like everyone I met on my trip: individuals. Jaco doesn’t seem to attract ordinary people. Either that or they don’t stay long.

Marvin’s place is open like all the restaurants in Jaco. It is similar to El Recreo, another Jaco restaurant, housed in a rancho style building popular throughout Costa Rica. Marvin’s is about 10 meters square with a canopy of teak wood and palm fronds 30-40 feet high covering the dining area. A wrought iron gate separates the yard from the street and the yard full of tropical vegetation including coconut palms and hibiscus bushes surrounds the restaurant area. Christmas lights complimented the candles on each table at night. Marvin opens from 11-3 and 5-9 daily except Monday. It’s a great place to stop by for coffee, fellowship and good food. From the beginning they granted me a place at the staff table. Diners would be left alone if they so desired but frequently our conversation included others as well. Sue showed me the trail through the jungle and up the mountain. It offered great views of Jaco.

Christmas day I ate the holiday breakfast buffet at Chatty Cathy’s. There I met Mike and Jim who have opened a burrito restaurant and surf shop. I rented a board and took advantage of Mike’s excellent teaching. Learning to surf can make a person feel stupid and uncoordinated in a hurry. Mike has a nice knack of preparing you for that and reminding you that having difficulty merely sitting on the board is normal. They told me about a fellow across the street form them who rents quality mountain bikes and I rented one for a day to explore the trail up the mountain. I had been hiking in the jungle nearly every day but thought it would be neat to have a bike so that I could go further.

Jaco is a little resort community on the Pacific coach about 2 1/2 hours by bus from San Jose. No real resorts exist but small hotels and rental cottages called cabinas abound. The beach, lined with palm trees, doesn’t get crowded and is almost deserted in the morning and evening. Life is slow and people are friendly. Cattle and horses graze in pastures held in by living fences. Because of termites conventional fences of most kinds or wood don't last long. So all over the country trees planted very close together and connected by wire make a uniqe fench. After I had been there a few days I knew lots of folks. Walking along the main street where almost al the businesses sat I would always see people I knew. Often I’d see someone having dinner or coffee in a restaurant and join them or vice versa. Spontaneity often ruled the day and plans to walk to the north side of town would be changed when I met someone headed the other direction. One day I went hiking on a nature trail in the Carara biological preserve. I saw monkeys in the jungle and enormous alligators lying of a sand bar in the Tarpoles River. After a long hike I was ready for pinto con jamon at the Restaurant Ecologico Los Crocodrilos.