Arrived at my hostel wee hours of the morning after travelling for 30+ hrs to find I had unwittingly booked my bed a night out!!Thankfully, the lovely receptionist found me an emergency bed for the night after I made noises about just crashing in a hammock or on a couch. Even after a shower and clean clothes I was too wired to sleep for a bit so didn’t start my day until mid morning.
I wanted to just walk around this remarkable city for a bit to get the vibe of the place. It had been five years since I had last been in Central America and that was in Nicaragua, one of the poorest countries in the region. Costa Rica, by comparison, is very much the showy, wealthier relative with support from its rich benefactor, the US. The city is relatively clean and well organised, and it has a veneer of respectability about it. The absence of an army is very apparent as that’s one of the things that is usually very much in your face in other Central American countries. That said, there is a very strong police presence as it was to them the role fell to keep the peace after the army was disbanded in 1949.
San José has many small, immaculately maintained parks which provide a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of city life. I meandered my way through crowded streets which were being cordoned off for a street festival later that evening. Families were setting up along the parade route in order to claim prime position and there was definitely a festive atmosphere in the air.
I left the crowds behind and started exploring the various barrios surrounding downtown San José. The terrain is hilly which allows for some superb views from elevated positions. Picking my way through streets with well maintained garden verges; pretty colonial cottages mingled with more modern concrete edifices.
Returning to the hostal after several hours of walking, I bumped into a Chilean woman I had been chatting to earlier in the day. She said that a group from the hostel were going to go watch the Festival of Lights – the festival I had seen the preparations for earlier on my walk. We left together and walked past multitudes of buses lining a back street. We were trying to find a bar we could hang out at prior to watching the parade but it seemed alcohol was off the menu because of the parade. Strolling back, however, it seemed the parade had started so we stopped to watch.
As luck would have it, this bar didn’t seem to get the memo about the no alcohol ruling, so I plonked myself at the bar and ordered a cerveza. Almost immediately, I was accosted by a more than slightly inebriated Colombian hombre who kept trying to hug and kiss me. Fortunately, he left shortly afterwards with the assurance of a security escort. In his place came along a really interesting, local hombre who was producing music. The bar was playing some great local music and his latest offering, which was filmed in Nicaragua, was on the DJ’s play list.
After I left the bar, I walked back past the buses strung out along the street which were now surrounded by performers in their hundreds in magnificent costumes packing up to go to their relative homes in Costa Rica. I felt of brief pang of regret for not waiting it out to see it, but choices had to be made.
Wild Woman Wandering 