We stopped for a night in Puerto Viejo at the Eastern edge of Costa Rica. We had dinner in a local restaurant that somehow managed to take an hour to produce any of the three items on its menu. I was troubled by this, and indeed my fears were borne out. When my fish arrived it had clearly been in the frying pan the whole time. I felt for the poor bugger; he died in vain. We were entertained throughout by some dreadful karaoke attempts at Adele and Mariah Carey. There were also three blackouts while we waited, which I suspect were the work of an outraged connoiseur of ladies balads.
The next day we took the bus to San Jose ("Do you know the way?" asked Kizzy. "Why, yes," I replied. "There´s a 9 o´clock bus from beside the beach.") San Jose was utterly forgettable. For a country so beloved by tourists we were surprised to come away with only one photo in all of Costa Rica, and that one was taken when we realised we had no others. Then again, we were cheap and it was pricey so we didn´t give it a chance. Our budget was flattered when we took a mild dislike to the place and resolved to nip over to Nicaragua as soon as possible.
That could not come too soon. Kizzy was in danger of picking up a criminal record as we found something to dislike about every one of our dorm room co-habitees. One bloke was a little creepy and physiscally incapable of passing 5 minutes without a squeaky little fart escaping. The other spent every minute we were in town on his laptop and under the sheet doing heaven knows what but giving no signs of common humanity. And the two Norwegian girls on the top bunks made a strong claim for the title of most annoying people we´ve met when they went out leaving the room a tip and returned at 4am to turn the lights on and have a very loud conversation about their camera for 40 minutes. Kizzy had called me out for making one cutting remark too many the previous day, so I kept schtum, but I could feel the boiling wrath emanating from her bunk above me.
We stopped for a night in Puerto Viejo at the Eastern edge of Costa Rica. We had dinner in a local restaurant that somehow managed to take an hour to produce any of the three items on its menu. I was troubled by this, and indeed my fears were borne out. When my fish arrived it had clearly been in the frying pan the whole time. I felt for the poor bugger; he died in vain. We were entertained throughout by some dreadful karaoke attempts at Adele and Mariah Carey. There were also three blackouts while we waited, which I suspect were the work of an outraged connoiseur of ladies balads.
The next day we took the bus to San Jose ("Do you know the way?" asked Kizzy. "Why, yes," I replied. "There´s a 9 o´clock bus from beside the beach.") San Jose was utterly forgettable. For a country so beloved by tourists we were surprised to come away with only one photo in all of Costa Rica, and that one was taken when we realised we had no others. Then again, we were cheap and it was pricey so we didn´t give it a chance. Our budget was flattered when we took a mild dislike to the place and resolved to nip over to Nicaragua as soon as possible. 
That could not come too soon. Kizzy was in danger of picking up a criminal record as we found something to dislike about every one of our dorm room co-habitees. One bloke was a little creepy and physiscally incapable of passing 5 minutes without a squeaky little fart escaping. The other spent every minute we were in town on his laptop and under the sheet doing heaven knows what but giving no signs of common humanity. And the two Norwegian girls on the top bunks made a strong claim for the title of most annoying people we´ve met when they went out leaving the room a tip and returned at 4am to turn the lights on and have a very loud conversation about their camera for 40 minutes. Kizzy had called me out for making one cutting remark too many the previous day, so I kept schtum, but I could feel the boiling wrath emanating from her bunk above me. 
No comments:
Post a Comment