Two Days in San Jose and the Flight Home - Monday 4-20-2009 and Tuesday 4-21-2009

Monday and Tuesday proceed similarly. I have lunch with Nicolas at the Mercado Central (I have the fried chicken with tortillas at Soda San Cristobal for 1,950 colones both days), he tells me he is ready to leave San Jose and return to Quebec, and I do a lot of listening because he has a lot to say about everything. On Monday, he asks our waitress at Soda San Cristobal if she would like to meet him for dinner on Tuesday. She agrees. After this, he talks a lot about how excited he is for his date. When we go back to Soda San Cristobal on Tuesday for lunch, the waitress is there again and Nicolas gets a confirmation that she will meet him later that day for dinner. Monday after lunch, we walk the blocks just to the south and west of the Mercado Central. Every store front facing the avenidas and calles is occupied, the merchants selling everything from fresh produce of every color, to childrens’ toys, to cell phones, to baked goods, to clothing, lingere, and other apparel for both men and women. Crowds are thick on both days. Nicolas and I weave our way through and around groups of pedestrians. Street vendors yell out the name of vegetables to passersby, hoping to attract a buyer. Old women sit at small wooden tables covered with lottery tickets. The destitute approach the slightly better off and beg for money. Taxis and trucks honk warnings to pedestrians as they zoom down the narrow streets. I will miss San Jose and its vibrant, chaotic life. Monday afternoon, I find a souvenir doll for my aunt at a t-shirt shop in a quiet alley in the Mercado Central. Tuesday afternoon, Nicolas and I walk to a park at the Costa Rica Gran Hotel and across the street from the Teatro Nacional and enjoy the early afternoon. Throngs of people walk by – businessmen in suits carrying expensive leather cases, teenagers talking on cell phones, couples walking hand in hand, old men with worn faces wearing threadbare clothes, private school students in their uniforms, tourists with folding maps.

I bid Nicolas goodbye on Tuesday afternoon and walk back to the hostel. Monday night, I arranged for a shuttle to drive me to the airport today. The shuttle driver arrives and I bid goodbye to Juan Carlos at the front desk. On the way out of town, we pass Parque Morazan. Laura and I walked through Parque Morazan the afternoon I showed her around San Jose. Further on, we drive past the hotel where Ricardo and Fernando stayed in San Jose; I remember it from when the shuttle to Monteverde stopped there several weeks ago. The 17 kilometer drive from hostel to airport takes forty-five minutes in San Jose’s heavy afternoon traffic. The driver wishes me good journey and pats me on the arm. Checking in, immigration, and security take all of fifteen minutes together. I spend the next three hours sitting at my gate enjoying the Juan Santamaria International’s free wireless. The plane boards at 6:35PM and takes off at 7:15PM. I bid adios to Costa Rica as the countryside rushes by and the plane lifts off for Los Angeles.

Sunday 4-19-2009 - Back to San Jose

Casa Brian in Playa Samara, Costa Rica

The Interbus shuttle to San Jose is supposed to pick me up at 9:30AM today. I wake up around 7:30AM, shower, and pack. I am about to step out of my room at 8:30AM to eat breakfast when I hear a knock on my door. I open the door and see Brian. Before he can say anything, I laugh and tell him “you must have thought I was going to sleep through everything this morning.” He smiles, says no, and then tells me that the private shuttles sometimes show up early and that he just wanted to make sure I was ready in case they showed up early this morning. I follow Brian into the living area and sit down at the dining table across from Catherine. She and I talk some about the last couple weeks and how I’ll be missed. I tell her that I’ll miss Playa Samara, but especially the homey, relaxing atmosphere at Casa Brian. The time passes quickly, and soon I am done with breakfast, packed, and ready to be picked up. The Interbus shuttle shows up five minutes late, honking to announce its presence. I hug Catherine and then Victoria, telling them both how happy I am to have met them. Brian comes out of his room then. I extend my hand saying, “it was a pleasure, Mr. Pearson.” He gives me a firm handshake and then firm hug, inviting me to come back and stay at Casa Brian again in the future. I’d come back even if he didn’t invite, I loved this place so much. I hug Sandra and tell her that I’ll miss her, Brian, and being here. The Interbus driver takes my luggage. Brian and Sandra drive off somwhere. I hop in the shuttle and wave goodbye to the hostel.

Five very bumpy hours later (Interbus shuttles rides are bumpier than GrayLine shuttle rides), I'm back at the Guesthouse at Costa Rica Backpackers in San Jose. I Skype Nicolas to tell him I have arrived, and he comes to the hostel and hour later. We walk into the city center because he has to run some errands. While we walk, he tells me about his robbery at gunpoint. His assailant only took some cash because Nicolas did not have his cards or passport with him at the time. Nicolas tells me he is completely ready to head back to Quebec and asks if I am interested in joining him. I tell him that I am not; I loved traveling through Costa Rica but I am now ready to be home for a while. He grudgingly accepts my refusal. We go eat dinner and have a few drinks at a restaurant inside a hotel on the Avenida Central. The food is good, but expensive. Nicolas tries to convince me to hit the town with him after dinner. Nicolas has been spending a lot of time alone in his room at the hostel. I can see that he is itching to make it a late night in San Jose and that he wants a sidekick. I'm tired from my ride from Playa Samara, and not in the mood to visit a casino or pound drinks somewhere. Besides, two and a half weeks in Playa Samara left me in a perfectly serene mood. Barhopping just does not appeal to me. We part ways around 7:30PM, agreeing to meet for lunch at the Mercado Central the next day.

Museo Nacional and My Frugality Leads To a Memorable Afternoon

I started my day at the Museo Nacional at Avenue Centrale & 2 and Calle 17. The bright ochre-colored fortress sits on an embankment facing downtown San Jose and used to house local military personnel. Costa Rica disbanded its army in 1948 after a rebel army led by Jose Figueres Ferrer successfully defeated government forces during the 1948 Costa Rican civil war. After his victory, Ferrer ruled Costa Rica for a year and a half, abolishing the military and overseeing the election of the Assembly that produced the Costa Rican Constitution of 1949.

One end of the museum courtyard offers a panorama of downtown San Jose and the surrounding hills. Aside from two rusting artillery pieces serving silent witnesses to a more violent past, the rest of the courtyard is a shady garden of indigenous trees and bushes, interspersed by a sugar gin and large rock spheres carved by Costa Rica's ancient inhabitants. Lining the courtyard is a covered, tiled walkway leading past several galleries, one displaying a reconstructed bedroom and living area from the country's colonial period, one displaying native gold artifacts, and one long gallery with exhibits tracing Costa Rica's political and social history from pre-Columbian days, to the present day. On the lowest level of the museum I found the butterfly garden, a lush enclosed area housing flowering trees, bushes and butterflies. The museum is open Tuesday through Saturday from 8:30AM to 4:30PM and on Sundays from 9:00AM to 4:30PM. It is closed on Mondays. Admission is $7 for foreigners.

From the Museo Nacional I walked west along Avenida Central to Calle 5 where I found the Museo de Oro, the Museum of Gold, at the bottom of some stairs. My guidebook said admission was $7, but the sign at the museum said $9. Taking time to think over this opulent expenditure, I overheard three women speaking in English about the museum. A mother and daughter were asking an American woman if the museum was worth $9. I sat down as the American woman described what was inside. I decided to keep my $9. The mother and daughter kept their money too.

The mother and daughter were from Eugene, Oregon. The daughter, a massage therapist and freelance editor, had traveled all through Thailand, Cambodia, and Malaysia and told us about the friendly people she met, the fine food she ate, and the wonderful experiences she had while traveling through that part of Asia. She happily recommended those countries for my next trip. The American woman was originally from Wisconsin but had been living in Honduras working on public health projects for two years with the Peace Corps and was staying one more year to work for USAID. She arrived in San Jose today for a seven day Costa Rican vacation and was in town alone until her friends arrived tonight. She also said she spent time in the Phillippines during her masters program and so I told her my heritage and how I have family there. We all chatted for maybe twenty minutes, then the mother and daughter bid us goodbye.

I introduced myself to the American woman, who introduced herself as Laura. She told me she hadn't seen all of the city so I asked if she would like to see some of it with me. She agreed and we were off. I retraced Friday's walk past Parque Morazan and Parque de Espana and then north along Calle 11 and around the back of Parque Simon Bolivar. Curious, we moved deeper into the area east and south of the Parque. As we followed quiet twisting side streets past large villas behind stone walls, we both agreed that the best part of vacation isn't going on tours, or visiting museums, but getting out and exploring the cities and towns on foot. We walked on and she told me about her work in Honduras, visiting remote jungle villages, and how much she enjoyed her two years in a small town near the Honduran-Salvadorian border. I talked a bit about my old work, how I just wanted to travel for a while, and the general uncertainty I have about what I should do with myself. Laura of course, wholeheartedly suggested two years in the Peace Corps.

We walked on towards Parque Nacional and the Museo de Arte y Diseno Contemporaneo, which I had visited the day before. Some Americans had climbed on the statue at the Parque Nacional and we had a good laugh at how rowdy they were acting. We headed back toward the Museo de Oro and then on to the Mercado Central, which I suggested for dinner. We cut our way through crowds on the Avenida Centrale and she talked about Honduras, its cities, and its fine people. The mercado was closed but we still enjoyed the walk, our conversation, and the company. She needed to get on a bus back to the airport to meet her friends so we walked to a soda a few blocks east of the bus station for dinner. Soda el Parque was quiet, with ample seating and good food. Over dinner we laughed about our respective college and masters program experiences, and our respective itineraries in the country. She suggested I visit Nicaragua. I told her I had been thinking about it. The afternoon light was fading quickly and Laura wanted to get on a bus before dark. We paid and I walked her to the bus stop. A warm hug and smile and she was gone. A nice stranger in a strange city.

I don't remember everything she and I talked about that afternoon, but I know we talked a lot, and laughed a lot and that I had a fine afternoon. And I suppose that is what is most worth remembering.

Museo de Arte y Diseno Contemporaneo, Parque Nacional, and a Quinceanera?

I ate lunch at the Mercado Central again. While eating the counter of a soda, a Dutch tour group came in and I struck up a conversation with their guide, Darren. He's taking the group of 10 through Costa Rica for 22 days. He told me that he takes his tour groups to this particular soda because they have the best food in the Mercado. I think the soda was Soda San Cristobal. I had a pollo de tortilla for 1900 colones (about $4.) From the Mercado, I retraced some of yesterday's steps east along the Avenida Central and then north to Parque Morazan at Calle 5 & 7 and Avenida 3 & 5. From there, I walked east on Avenida to the Museo de Arte y Diseno Contemporaneo, at Avenida 3 and Calle 17. This contemporary art museum, along with two theaters, rehearsal space, a plaza, and other exhibition space is part of the Centro Nacional De Arte y Cultura. Everything except the Museo de Arte y Diseno Contemporaneo was closed for the weekend. The Museo was founded in 1994 and houses contemporary art and audiovisual work from artists around the world in five separate galleries. The Museo is open Monday through Saturday from 9:30AM to 4:45PM. Admission is $3 for foreigners, 700 colones for nationals, and 500 colones for students.

Stepping out of the Museo, I crossed Avenida 3 to Parque National. The tall trees at this city-block sized botanical garden offers ample shade while stone benches provide seating. A small stone bridge leads deeper into the Parque and towards a plaza with a large bronze statue of several women on a stone pedestal. Bronze reliefs on the pedestal depict battles from Costa Rican history. I stopped at Parque National briefly on Thursday. Then, the park was full of people walking through, or stopping to eat their lunch. Today, the Parque was nearly deserted.




From the Parque, I moved southeast on Avenida 3. This walk took me through a gritty neighborhood where I passed shuttered businesses, ruined streets, an abandonded train yard and station, and plenty of graffiti. Avenida 3 crossed Calle 23, and I followed the latter north east. At the corner of Calle 23 and Avenida 9, I found the Church of Santa Teresita. A security guard addressed me in Spanish and I think he asked me if I was part of the ceremony. I smiled and said I didn't speak any Spanish. He didn't speak English so we laughed and I bid him goodbye. Walking past the church, I noticed a crowd parents and teenagers bearing gifts. Was it a wedding? I walked across the street and took pictures of the church's bone white exterior and its crimson dome. Then, I turned back and passed the security guard a second time. He addressed me again and this time he looked concerned. He spoke several sentences, but our language barrier was impassable. Finally, he explained his concern to a passing couple. The man told me in broken English that the security guard was wondering if I was lost or needed help. I laughed and said no, that I was just a tourist taking pictures and that I was fine. The couple walked on, and then the security guard motioned me to follow him to the assembly room next to Santa Teresita. Standing in the doorway were three Latin women dressed in Chinese costume. I motioned to my camera and they happily struck a pose. I peeked into the assembly room and there were Chinese lanterns, Chinese dragons, and Chinese characters about the room, as well as about 30 tables covered in white linen with four chairs around each table. An adolescent girl's smiling face beamed from a video screen in the back. I think I stumbled onto a quinceanera. I thanked the security guard and introduced myself. He introduced himself as Giovanni. I thanked Giovanni again and headed southwest along Calle 23, northwest along Avenida 3 to Calle 21, and then south on Calle 21 to Costa Rica Guesthouse.

Catedral Metropolitana, Mercado Central, Teatro Nacional

I started my day at the Catedral Metropolitana, at the corner of Avenida 2 and Calle Central, across Calle Central from Parque Central, San Jose’s central park. The cathedral’s interior was cool and dim, illuminated by sunlight filtered by colorful stained glass windows depicting biblical scenes. Rows of pews and thick marble columns lined the long nave which ended in a large altar and huge crucifix, all beneath a dome. Leaving the cathedral, I walked north up Calle Central and then west along Avenida Central; these two roads split San Jose into four quarters. I found San Jose’s central market, the Mercado Central, at Avenida Central and Calle 6 & 8.

The Mercado Central is a city block sized indoor labyrinth of twisting, turning narrow walkways lined with cramped storefronts. I navigated its maze for over an hour. Every time I thought I had seen everything, I found a new alley which took me to a previously undiscovered quarter. It all seemed so random at first, but it isn’t. The Mercado’s outer paths led past florists, jewelers, herbalists, and people selling spices of all colors and flavors. These outer layers also included people selling leather goods, souvenir hawkers, coffee bars, coffee bean sellers, and people selling backpacks, bags, children’s clothing, and even school supplies. Deeper in the Mercado I found more herbalists, pet stores, pet food stores, ice cream stores, produce sellers, fresh fish sellers, and people selling every cut of beef, pork and chicken. Finally, the heart of the Mercado held the sodas. Sodas are small restaurants that offer Costa Rican foods, mostly rice and beans served with beef, chicken, or fish. Some of the sodas in the Mercado had seating inside, just like a small restaurant. Others had seating only around a counter with the kitchen in the middle, and patrons ate as though they were eating at a bar. I ate a delicious and filling gallo de pollo y salad, which apparently is fried chicken with rice and salad, at a quiet soda for only 850 colones (about $1.70).

Leaving the Mercado Central, I walked east on Avenida Central to the Plaza De La Cultura and Teatro Nacional at Avenida Central and Calle 3, where I arrived just in time to join a guided tour in English by Alberto for $7. Construction began in 1890 and concluded in 1897. A French opera company performed Faust, the Teatro's first production, on October 21, 1897. The Theater’s lobby floor, hall floors, and pillars are Italian marble. Most of the sculptures and ceiling paintings were done by Italians; some sculptures were done by Spaniards. The notable exception is the mother and child statue Maternity in the lobby, which a Costa Rican sculpted. The theater’s marble sculptures, especially Dance & Music, and Comedy & Tragedy are easily as good as anything I’ve seen in Rome, Florence, or Paris. The lobby painting showing banana and coffee farmers was painted by an Italian who never visited Costa Rica. Consequently, it contains 20 documented errors including incorrect representations of Costa Rican women and coffee farming. The theater’s bronze is Belgian, some windows are French, the iron is English. Nearly every lamp and relief surface is covered in gold leaf. The theater seats 1,034 and has hosted American presidents Eisenhower, Johnson, Kennedy, Nixon, Carter, Bush Sr. and Clinton. The entire building is a small replica of the Paris Opera House. The theater hosts performances every day of the year. The most expensive ticket costs $20.

The theater’s meeting room, which is on the second floor across a hallway from the theater’s second-level balcony incorporates Rococo, German Classicism, and Spanish Baroque elements. The meeting room’s hardwood floor was fashioned from 20 different Costa Rican hardwoods and its three ceiling paintings depict poetry, dance, and personifications of Costa Rica’s seven provinces. The room also contains the statue of Glory, a 15 foot marble statue of an angel holding a wreath.

I left the Teatro and continued further west along Avenida Central to Calle 7. San Jose is not an architecturally beautiful city in the way European capitals are, but it is vibrant and alive and beautifully chaotic. I passed street merchants selling DVDs from black blankets spread out on the cement, countless small stores selling everything from refrigerators to lingerie, store owners standing in doorways loudly advertising their wares in Spanish to the passing crowds, street artists happy to be photographed, businessmen in coats and ties holding leather cases, groups of students laughing and gossiping together, Costa Ricans of all stripes sitting, walking, waiting. I traveled through a sea of exactly the kind of human energy Americans have fled from for generations starting after World War II -- soccer moms and workaholic fathers who demanded soul-dead cookie cutter suburbs with two car garages, enough space for lifetimes of junk, and 300 square feet of Bermuda grass, leaving all of us more disconnected because of it.

From Avenida Central and Calle 7, I turned north and followed Calle 7 uphill to Parque Morazan. Parque Morazan is split by Avenidas 5 & 3 and Calles 5 & 7. One part of the park has a small fountain in the center. The main part offers many tall trees, numerous stone benches, a large stone dome called the Templo de Musica, and a statue of Simon Bolivar. Then I turned east from the corner of Calle 7 and Avenida 5 and reached Parque Espana. Here I broke from the path on my tourist map and headed uphill again, following Calle 11 north toward the city zoo, Parque Simon Bolivar. Calle 11 led to the back of the zoo, what looked like a large forest down a steep embankment. I followed what I think was Avenida 11 east around the outside of Parque Simon Bolivar. This road was quiet, a sudden break from San Jose’s noise, traffic and pollution. Parked cars lined the narrow streets. I was the only pedestrian. The road led me past a purely residential neighborhood, but for a small bar called the Sportsmens Lodge. The houses here were large and clean, nicer than anything I had yet seen in San Jose. There was no trash in these gutters. Past the bar I climbed a stairway up to a lonely residential street. A father, just home from his commute hugged a young girl and she laughed. A dark grey cat eyed me, and then ran beneath a car. I turned back and returned to the hostel by following Calle 11 south through Parque Espana to Avenida 6, and then by following Avenia 6 east to Costa Rica Guesthouse.

First Impressions: Costa Rica Guesthouse

I'm staying at Costa Rica Guesthouse, which is the nicer part of Costa Rica Backpackers Hostel (www.costaricabackpackers.com, phone: 2221 6191). Costa Rica Backpackers is located at Avenida 6, Calle 21/23 and the Guesthouse is right across the street. I arranged for an airport pickup via the website for $18. When I was dropped off at the Guesthouse, the charge ended up being $20 but my driver Franklin was an excellent conversationalist so I didn't mind paying an extra $2.

I like this hostel. My spacious second floor room includes a king sized bed, and has three windows which look out onto a street. I share a bathroom with the other six rooms on this floor, but there are hardly any other guests on this floor so I don't mind. The bathroom is large and tiled with something like sandstone. The second story halls and rooms are nicely appointed with tastefully painted floors and mahogany-stained doors. The first story is airy and filled with natural light during the day. The Guesthouse has 24 hour reception. Across the street, Costa Rica Backpackers also has 24 hour reception, plus a reservations desk, a communal kitchen, a communal area with couches and a flat screen plasma TV, several computers for web-browsing, a pool, a garden with five hammocks, and a restaurant with decent food and which also plays movies at night. Tonight, they're showing Hancock (missed it) then bringing in three comedians at 8pm. I spent most of this afternoon talking to other travelers, all of whom were friendly and talkative. One is even from LA and her friend went to Carnegie Mellon. Small world.

I'm paying $35 per night for my room. A similar room with a private bathroom would be $42 per night. Costa Rica Backpackers has dorm beds for $12 per night and double rooms for $26 per night. Julie, the woman who checked me in and wife of the owner of Backpackers and the Guesthouse told me their business is down about 20 percent from this time last year. She further informed me that she has heard from hostel owners in other parts of Costa Rica that business is down as much as 50 percent from this time last year in some cities.