San José Recapitulación

Here is a quick photo essay of pivotal events, momentous occasions, and striking realizations during our month in San José.

Preparing to leave. Objective: pack as light as possible to go to foreign country for indefinite time period. Zipp wheels not included.

Buenos dias Ronald Reagan International! WTF was I thinking booking a flight for 7 a.m. departure? Also, my dad was furious that I booked at Reagan instead of Dulles. DC ain’t the place to be on a Monday morning in a car lemme tellya.

Rise and shine twinkle toes.

Wow really not doing much better myself. Apparently 4 hours of sleep does not look great on either of us.

It’s go time. Walk towards the light.

Our new home…

Morning ritual. Coffee+papaya+Lonely Planet= figuring out what to do with your day:

El Centro (Downtown San José):

The fine films all of you are missing out on…

Museo de Arte y Diseño Contemporáneo (Musuem of Contemporary Art and Design):





I could make some kinda pseudo-intellectual comment about re-contextualizing the outside world, examining our perception of cleanliness and orderliness, or how we define “dirt”…but honestly, I have no fucking clue what this is about.

Meat is for Pussies:


Going to the parque zoologíco with hostel friends.

Sad leónes.


Thus far I’ve yet to see a single recycling bin in Costa Rica, but I’ve seen plenty of Coca-Cola advertisements.

I should write a post on the influence of American metal bands on the Costa Rican music scene. Goths are everywhere down here. Walking around you see everything from Guns-n-Roses to Lamb of God on peoples shits. Our KoRnhead friend/hostel attendant Angel is in a nü-metal band. He played a show and I went to see it. Angel is obsessed with KoRn. I told him that I only like corn in mi mierda, but he wasn’t having it. The show was fun and several bands played. One of the bands covered Metallica and Slayer, which was super bien.

Jared’s observations from the window:

A passing truck spots a Guava tree. A guy jumps out and spurs into action shaking some fresh fruit down.

I do not envy the job of the San José basureros. They have to hand collect all the trash, and much of it isn’t organized into need little bags. Sometimes you see trash being burned in the street.

Pobrecito. This dog belonged to some old people across the street, but in true Tico dog owner fashion, they kept him shut out for days at a time. He ate trash, dodged cars, flipped out at thunder and drank sewage (pictured below) almost every day.

I’m downstairs:

A funeral.
Eating some rambután from a downtown vendor (not very good)

Leaving San José. Mickey waves goodbye. Dear Mickey and Ronald McDonald, please stop following me. I know we had a thing for a while, but I was really young and didn’t know any better. I left to get away from you. Don’t you know that?!

-L

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