Puerto Viejo, Again

Waking today, Isaiah and I got the fuck out of “Rockin’ Jay’s.” Whilst walking down the road, I hear “Hey Seamus!” It was Nate, one of the cool Canadian guys I had met in Tamarindo. It was great to see them, and Isaiah and I sat down and had breakfast with them. If there could only be one striking difference between the States and Costa Rica, it would be the food service. It’s impossible to get a coffee before your breakfast, when you order it, you get what you didn’t order, and most places are painstakingly slow.

At this restaurant, the waitress was alone, with one guy in the kitchen, and it was full. She couldn’t get her head straight, and it just might have been due to Puerto Viejo’s legacy of pot smokingdom. Yes, that’s a new word. When asked for a café, she would reply “si” but not bring you a coffee. I asked her for a “mixto de jugo,” a mixture of juices, and she brought me four apple juices and a moment later realized her mistake and exclaimed “gratis.” Nate, a good shit, got a free plate of breakfast out of one of her blunders. He and John Forge, a good fisherman, split it and were both stoked on the casado. We were served a fried egg, a rice and bean mixture we’ve come to know and love, and a slice of cheese. When it takes twenty minutes to make that, you appreciate it twice as much.

After breakfast, we walked down to a beach with larger waves to the south. Our aim was to bodysurf, but the waves were far too choppy to get out. There were eight flags marking severe undertow and riptides at the beach, seven of which were red, and only a sole green flag. The lifeguards would actually blow their whistles when we would be carried too far over by the current. It was fun, and the water was warm, so we stayed in there and were beaten by the waves for a couple of hours. Once thoroughly beaten, we walked back to town and ate lunch. We found a soda with Caribbean style chicken, which would become our staple soda for the remainder of our time in Viejo.

We ended up staying in the same hostel they were staying at, because of the unappealing aspects of “Rockin’ Jay’s,” and it turned out to be a pretty decent place! The rooms were clean, although crab-infested, and there were some cool people staying there. They had three guitars, and I played for some of the people at the hostel for a couple hours. We shotgunned some beers, and went out to Johnny’s for the first time.
Johnny’s is a good time, but gets a little crazy. Considering this was the night before “Ano Nuevo,” we thought people would be taking it a bit easy. They weren’t, and we joined in. The bar inside was loud, and Isaiah and I danced with the German and Czech girls. It was a good time, and we ended up by the bonfire outside watching these tourist-appeasing fire-dancers around the bonfire outside of Johnny’s. I got pretty wasted, and we went and fell asleep in our new rooms.

Rockin’ again,

Seamus