Later that evening, I found my bunk room at Casa Ridgway had gained a person, Greg, who I've spent a fair amount of time with by now. Greg graduated from Oregon State a few years ago, and works there now, monitoring sustainability for their facilities. He was waiting for a friend to arrive before vacationing for a couple weeks, and we bonded immediately, being the only under-50 guests at la casa. We had dinner at a nearby traditional Costa Rican place with onions hanging in the windows, which is the site of this really sketchy story:
Greg and I were discussing options for him and his friend, and I began to tell him about what I read in Lonely Planet about the sex trade in Costa Rica. I don't know if this is pretty widely known, but large numbers of married (or single) American men show up here as "anglers." I'm sure they fish, but they also hire many lady friends, who are very easy to find in certain parts of downtown San Jose, and in certain tourist communities along the Pacific coast (Jaco is the most notorious). Prostitution is legal in Costa Rica, as long as everyone is over 18, but how often do you think the customers ask for ID? There are some ad campaigns against child prostitution, but it's apparently not incredibly successful. So anyway, just as I start explaining the "anglers" to Greg, the portly gringo at the table next to us leans over and asks for some advice on ordering. There are English explanations of all the dishes, but he wants to know what we have, and what we recommend. He obviously doesn't speak any Spanish, and has never heard of plantains. Now, none of this is necessarily bad, but he's pretty obnoxious in general. Introductions go around (I've forgotten his name), he's from Boston (where it's very cold), and Greg asks if he has any suggestions on where he should go with his friend. Here's where it gets interesting. Portly gringo leans in close, and begins to tell us that we should really check out this place called "Del Rey." Apparently, he says there are a lot of "beautiful girls," and a lot of hotel rooms available. But, he warns that when you go, you have to make sure to lock the minibar in the room, and not leave any money lying around. Greg and I just kind of let him go on, sort of fascinated by his complete disregard for courteous conversation. Portly gringo and his friend are, in fact, heading down to the infamous Jaco later this week. I'm a bit disappointed that Greg and I apparently look like dudes interested in Del Rey, and Jaco. But then again, portly gringo was remarkably oblivious to most things, it seems. He asked the waitress for ketchup for his sea bass. Sigh.
So, that's enough of that sort of thing. Music time! I've managed to find two great free performances so far, one later that night in a bar north of downtown. The guide mentioned several places with live folk music in the district, and Greg and I found one. It was pretty great, two old Ticos in a tiny bar, one with a guitar and mic, the other with bongos. I had really never heard anything like this music before. On the surface it was acoustic Latin folk, but you could definitely tell that whoever wrote these songs had listened to a lot of American singer-songwriters, from the melodic style to some of the guitar playing. Unfortunately, I could only catch the occasional word. Also: best bongo solo I've ever heard, from the very old white-haired Tico. The second concert was in one of the famous plazas, and was a fantastic groove session. It was a pretty hip world fusion group, a collection of percussionists with two guitarists, bass player, and singer. They started out playing in a more cubano or argentino style, but as the two hour show progressed and people gathered, they started rocking out more and more. By the end, there was a small mosh pit in front, which was entirely appropriate, even though the music still held on to its latin groove feel. More great solos, from guitar and flute. Also, it's comforting to know that wherever you go in the world, PA systems will still turn off at random points in a show.
For tomorrow, I have actually managed to plan out how to climb Volcan Barva. Two bus rides, starting at 5am, and hopefully it won't be too hot, and I'll get back before it's dark. I bought lunch at the market, and I'm pretty excited.
Hooray for having followers! I'm going to assume that Jabreal is a stalker, and I should avoid him at all costs. In conclusion, I owe Stephan a prize for being my first follower. Here it is:
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