Clement Part 1 - 5-4-2012

Ocean view from Barracuda in Playa Samara, Costa Rica

Clement was French, from Paris. Her blond hair and blue eyes complemented her graceful body. I thought she might have been a dancer. She was a nurse. Clement most recently worked in New Caledonia (French Polynesia to Americans) for six months.

It was nearly sunset by the time she and I walked through town and up the hill to Barracuda on Sunday evening. Clement kept to herself at Casa Brian. She was self conscious about her English but was talkative once comfortable with someone. I thought she had a pretty accent. Clement went diving most of Saturday. We went for drinks at La Vela Latina that evening, then I walked her part way to the hostel before I went into town for dinner and to enjoy Samara's night life. This afternoon, Sunday, I invited her to Barracuda to take pictures of Samara with me. Our conversation drifted from empty small talk to childhood nostalgia to complicated heartache as the afternoon advanced to evening, then darkened to night.

Downtown Samara from Barracuda in Playa Samara, Costa Rica

The sky is a palette of pastels, pink and lavender in the west, blue with a touch of purple in the east, as we arrive at Barracuda's upper patio. We both take some pictures then settle into stools across a glass table. "Cheers," I say and we touch beer cans.

“Do you have brothers or sisters,” I ask.

“I have one brother,” she tells me.

“Were you close growing up?” I ask the question a couple different ways because she does not understand, then she answers.

“We were very different when we were young, and he was three years younger than me,”' she explains between sips of her Imperial. “Now we are...” she gestures with her fingers, placing one far apart from the other, then bringing them together. “How do you say...not distant, but...,” she pauses.

“Close,” I offer.

“Close. Yes. We became closer as we got older.”

A gentle breeze drifts through the upper patio. “Did you have pets growing up, or now?”

“I had a cat before I left France. I love cats. When I move to New Caledonia, I gave my brother my cat to watch but he ran away. I was very sad.” She pouts to bring home the point. “My brother and wife's son, what do you say in English?

“Your nephew.”

“Yes, my nephew like to pet the cat and chase him but my cat like to sit and sleep. He did not like so he ran away.”

“Chat noir?” I ask.

“He was black in the body, and had white on his...she gestures to her hands and looks at me for help.”

“Paws?”

“Yes, paws. He had white on his paws.” She pauses. “I miss him. And you? Did you have cats or dogs?”

“I had fish and a couple parrots. I tried to teach the parrots to talk but they would only speak parrot,” I say. She smiles.

“Yes. I had fish too. All they did was swim.”

“What does your brother do?”

Clement's younger brother works in construction. “He builds everything...government, houses, he can build anything,” she explains. He married a Cambodian woman, a secretary in her home country. She speaks little French and so does not work. Their three year old, however, speaks some French, Cambodian and English. Talented kid.

Shortening My Trip - 5-2-2012

Pacific Ocean from Barracuda in Playa Samara, Costa Rica



Upstairs bar at Barracuda in Playa Samara, Costa Rica

Upstairs at Barracuda, Jack Johnson was playing on the stereo and warm breezes touched my skin as I drank my frosty Imperial. I admired the baby blue sky and sapphire water interspersed with white caps. I felt peaceful, more peaceful than I had since the Canadians left two days prior. And that's when it started to hit me. On this trip, I wanted to learn how to love unconditionally. Well, if I am supposed to love my friends and my family unconditionally, then the best way to love them is to be with them. For my parents, that means being at home, or at least close to it. For my friends in San Francisco, Los Angeles and New York, that means visiting them. Me hanging out in Samara for six weeks does not bring love to the people who love me, though I do acknowledge that it took coming down here for me to realize that.

Up at Barracuda, I started thinking about this freedom that I've scrimped and saved for. For six years, I've put off living, and starting my own life in favor of working stressful jobs, commuting long distances and living with my parents specifically so I could get out of debt as quickly as possible and put together enough money to travel for a very long time. I have accomplished these things.

But here's the kicker: I didn't realize just how much I changed from my last trip through Playa Samara until I got back here. I see that I don't actually want to be a perpetual traveler anymore. I do still want the option to bail on a job whenever I desire and without financial concern, and I certainly want to be able to travel when I want. For the first time in my life, though, I feel like the next step for me is to set down roots, not collect passport stamps. I want to find a job that complements or serves my personal purpose rather than only putting money in my pocket. That might mean something corporate; it might mean a clean break from my corporate past. I also want to find a girlfriend who shares my values. I want to move out of my parents' house, and be a better friend to my friends by visiting them often.

 

Swimming pool at Barracuda in Playa Samara, Costa Rica

That's when I decided, amid the warm breeze, postcard view and easy Jack Johnson songs that I have to go home. I have to go home and bring love to the people who love me by visiting them in NYC and SF and wherever else they may be. I have to go home and build a life, not run from things I don't want...but really build life that any man would love to live. Sitting on a beach in Costa Rica isn't moving me towards these things, even though I had to fly down here, sit on a beach (well...hilltop bar), meet a whole bunch of people, clean up loose ends and do lots of writing here in Costa Rica to realize this.

Later that Saturday afternoon, I changed my flight home and shortened my trip by two weeks. That gives me over two and a half weeks to get into random adventures here, meet more people, and gain further insights while also moving me two weeks closer to building an awesome life at home. Shortening my trip also pulls some pressure off me here. Now that I'm just passing through, I can just have fun without worrying that I'm not making friends with other folks who'll stay for a while. That's liberating too.

The Former Club Barracuda - 5-1-2012

Barracuda is a former dance club I visited several times on my last trip through Samara. The club even had a mechanical bull, which I never rode. Rosa, one of Brian's friends, mentioned that it's not a club anymore, but is still a cool place to hang out. Fresh from my closure regarding Irish Jane, and feeling better about the Canadians' recent departures (I'll do a separate post for them; they were awesome), I resolved to explore the former club on Saturday the 28th.



Forest path to Barracuda in Playa Samara, Costa Rica

The path to Barracuda breaks off from the main road just outside of town; it's just an unmarked grass path that turns upward sharply on the left side of the road as you leave town. I missed it the first time, went back into town and got correct directions from a helpful hotelier, Julie, at the Tico Adventure Lodge. I spotted the grass path the second time and took it. The sounds of the road and town faded into silence beneath a green canopy. Only the sound of my feet on gravel and grass broke the morning silence. I followed the path up and spotted the gate.

A concrete path led further up past several small, white cabinas on my left to the former dance club. It was quiet, the cabinas empty. An older blond woman came out to welcome me. In quickly-spoken Spanish, I think she asked me if I wanted to enjoy the view or swim in the pool. I wanted neither but didn't know what to say. “Cerveza?” she smiled, and I agreed. I could use a beer after that climb. She led me into the outer patio, a white concrete area with shade tents, comfy wood and canvas sunning chairs and a small wading pool.



Cabana at Barracuda in Playa Samara, Costa Rica

The club was built on a cliff; I could see all of Playa Samara from Barracuda's patio. Once, the area next to a big shade tent opened into the club. Now, though, a large bar with a sign reading “Beach Club” behind it sat in front of a wall that once led to a dance floor. "Pilsen? Imperial?" the helpful woman asked with a smile.“Imperial,” I answered. She went in the back and came out with a can. I paid her $2.00, thanked her and went exploring upstairs.

Pacific Ocean from Barracuda in Playa Samara, Costa Rica

Three years ago, the upstairs floor led back into the club's second floor. Today, a back wall sealed off the upper deck, preventing entrance to whatever happened to the rest of the club. The view, though, was still spectacular. Four tables with stools were spread across the vast, rectangular floor, with chest-high glass preventing people from falling over to the concrete patio and airy tents below. A high ceiling left plenty of space for the morning breeze. I had the entire floor to myself as I admired my 200 degree view.

Downtown Playa Samara, Costa Rica

My far left view was green trees and green hills. Just to the right, I could see the entire curve of Playa Samara with Punta Islita just off shore. Continuing right, I could see Playa Samara spread out before me on land, and white caps crashing against the coral reef offshore. Small figures walked or bicycled the straight main street leading to the beach. Further right, I could see the tide pools at the far end of Playa Samara, where the beached curved back out to the sea and ended. To the extreme right, I could see another cove open up with blue ocean beyond it – Playa Buena Vista. The views were stunning, and enhanced further by the springtime sun.

Not many people in Samara know about Barracuda now that it is a series of cabinas instead of a rowdy bar, but definitely make the hike up to the former club. And bring your camera; you won't be sorry.

Four Can't Miss Bars in Echo Park

Echo Park is a neighborhood in Los Angeles, CA just north of downtown, off the 101 freeway. Los Angeles' film industry was centered in Echo Park before World War I, and the neighborhood served as the backdrop for many silent films. The film Mi Vida Loca explored Latina gang life in Echo Park in the 1990s. Several new apartment and condominium buildings were built in the northern portion of Echo Park as spillover from the late 1990s and early 2000s renaissance downtown.

But don't let the new wine bar fool you. Gentrification hasn't sterilized this neighborhood yet. Today, working class Latinos and Millennial generation hipsters (and yes, some plaid clad Gen Xers too) frequent shadowy dive bars serving $3 Pabst, eat at ethnic restaurants in operation for generations, and nod their heads at live music venues tucked away in the shadows, safe from the judgmental eyes of pretentious Westsiders.




The Short Stop

Only a pink neon COCKTAILS sign advertises this former cop bar turned gay bar turned hipster haven. The shadowy back room houses a pool table, a collection of police badges, and dark leather booths for quiet conversation. The narrow bar quenches the thirst of straight twenty-something "actors" and "actresses" financing edgy entertainment industry lives with Mom and Dad's green. Come for Super Soul Sundays from 10pm to 2am to dance on a packed floor to Motown oldies and 80's favorites. Ignore the worn wooden sign declaring "DANCING IZ EVIL." Groups of skinny-jeaned, pirate-mustachioed hipsters get their nicotine fix on the outdoor porch. Come early for a seat at the bar because Sunday nights also feature crowds four deep trying to get a drink.

No cover
Full bar 5pm to 2am
Super Soul Sundays 10pm to 2am
Sunset & Sutherland at 1455 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles, CA. Phone: (213) 482-4942


The Little Joy
The kind of bar I would run if I were a tagger. Enjoy two beers on tap, play on a worn pool table, cut shadowy deals in the few booths hidden in corners, or chat up the pretty blond in the black dress with leggings underneath as you both stand around because furniture is so sparse. Surprisingly well-lit for a dive, but how else could you enjoy all the graffiti, sketches, and street art four walls can handle? Bring cash because they don't take credit cards. Cheap drinks and a DJ spinning funk offer comfort to patrons who didn't want to deal with the line at The Short Stop. More diverse crowd than the hipster-only Short Stop. Makes up with real what it lacks in hip.

No cover
Cash only
Full bar
Sunset & Portia at 1477 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles, CA. Phone: (213) 250-3417






The Gold Room
Well-lit with tiled floors, leather booths, and a largely well-dressed, young, female clientele. Sometimes the entire staff wears tuxedos. Fiber optic lighting at the bar cycles through a rainbow of colors. And was that a neon palm tree? What is this, Miami? Sit at the polished granite bar and get all the free roasted peanuts you can eat, if you don't mind shelling them yourself. Mirrored wall next to the booths and behind the bar make this small spot seem larger. Loud, eclectic jukebox plays mariachi, bachata, classic rock and metal. A good reprieve from the local dive bar routine.

Full bar
Food
1558 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles, CA. Phone: (213) 482-5259


El Prado
Westside class without the arrogance. Long and wide light brown bar with plenty of stools offer ample opportunity to meet locals. Modern art, mellow lighting, and light colored wood paneling lend this wine and beer bar a chill atmosphere. Staff spins LPs from a sizable collection next to the wine bottles. Wine and beer selection hand written in white wax pen on the mirror wall behind the bar instead of in a menu is a nice touch. Enjoy olives, walnuts or pecans for $3, or spring for the cheese plate for $7. Impress a first date by ordering a glass of an obscure New Zealand Pinot Noir she's never heard of for $7. Or commiserate with a friend over a $3 glass of the finest Portuguese boxed wine you've ever cried into.

Wine and beer only
Food
Open 7 days a week, 6pm to 2am
1805 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles, CA. Phone: (213) 483-8609

Special Bonus:
Taco Zone Truck
The only taco truck I've seen on Yelp with a 4.5 star rating and over 150 reviews. Didn't stop them from getting firebombed(!) in mid-2009, though. Jealous competitors? Thankfully, Taco Zone is back as of early July 2009. Enjoy steaming, flavorful, tacos, burritos, and quesadillas. Taco Zone even set up a few chairs, just for you. At 2:30AM, how could you possibly go wrong with three chicken tacos for $1.25 each, and a full salsa bar? Go for the dark orange salsa if you like hot. Tacos served open face on soft tortillas the way they're supposed to be done, and not in crunchy shells like at corporate behemoth Taco Bell. Walk across the parking lot to Vons and wash down your late night taco with a Snickers bar.

Food
Open well past 2AM.
Parked at Alvarado and Montana, on the street next to the Vons supermarket parking lot and near a car wash.

Special thanks to Echo Park resident and my guide, Nima Samadi, who took me on an amazing five hour bar crawl and taco fest one Sunday night and Monday morning.