Decompression - Blogabond

My first week in Costa Rica was a crude, improvised sort of acclimation process. I bumbled about Alajuela with a perpetual tell-tale mask of gringo-no-entiendo, failing constantly and simoultaneously at operating pay phones, using currency correctly, and putting recyclables in the appropriate bin. I said stupid things in Spainsh like "I have only pain" when trying to communicate that I only carried American dollars. I unwittingly commited the worst of faux-paus and continued on on my way, grinning.

I spent a few days at the Alajuela campground, trying to get my bearings. The campground, more of a house converted into a hostel on the outskirts of town, is owned by a cool dude from Dusseldorf. I made several gringo friends at the campground, who were understanding and helpful in the difficult transition process. We drank copiously and pretended to speak intelligently about politics around a bon fire. I slept in my hammock on the porch.

Stefan, the owner, has five dogs in the yard. They effin rule.

written by

chaddeal on November 19, 2008 from Alajuela, Costa Rica

from the travel blog: The Great Pan-American Synchronistic Cycle Extravaganza Unlimited

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written by Dave on October 11, 2010

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