It's 'Semana Santa' at Easter, my apologies to Catholics everywhere for inadvertently rechristening the most important festival in Latin America. Celebrations already under way, processions around the streets of San Jose , where I m stopping the night. Religious icons held aloft as worshippers pray and sing their way between churches.
I am wending my way towards Panama so staying enroute in a delightful hostel in the university area of San Pedro. The shuttle from Cahuita deftly avoided the mountain landslides due to the recent rain and we arrived by early afternoon so I had time to explore.
This huge westernised city is a culture shock after sleepy Cahuita. San Jose is a wealthy vibrant place, yes, with a seamier side, like any city, but this trendy neighbourhood, full of coffee bars and bookshops, is safe to walk around and I enjoyed absorbing the buzz and youthful cosmopolitan vibe.
I’m fighting flashbacks from the robbery but 'getting there', wearing my angry bruises like a badge of honour, an initiation, a rite of passage. Although physically fine, psychologically I have struggled with this deliberate act of violence. My run in with the cow horn in India was a random accident but this was personal, harder to come to terms with.
But one bad act brings out many good acts in response. When I explain my bruises to curious questioners I am met with universal kindness and genuine caring support. Costa Rica depends on tourism and are rightly proud of their beautiful country. People have gone out of their way to comfort me, a total stranger in the supermarket have me a hug.
So I will concentrate on the high points of Costa Rica: the parade of wildlife which exceeded my expectations, the lush green countryside, the cool waterways alive with life, the gentle villagers, the early morning canoe rides into the jungle, the crashing Caribbean surf. I shall miss the sloth outside my cabin, who opened one eye every morning and the other every evening, the flamboyant display of birds and butterflies, the monkeys howling through the night, I have so many positive memories of this spectacular country and that's the way I will remember it.
I am wending my way towards Panama so staying enroute in a delightful hostel in the university area of San Pedro. The shuttle from Cahuita deftly avoided the mountain landslides due to the recent rain and we arrived by early afternoon so I had time to explore.
This huge westernised city is a culture shock after sleepy Cahuita. San Jose is a wealthy vibrant place, yes, with a seamier side, like any city, but this trendy neighbourhood, full of coffee bars and bookshops, is safe to walk around and I enjoyed absorbing the buzz and youthful cosmopolitan vibe.
I’m fighting flashbacks from the robbery but 'getting there', wearing my angry bruises like a badge of honour, an initiation, a rite of passage. Although physically fine, psychologically I have struggled with this deliberate act of violence. My run in with the cow horn in India was a random accident but this was personal, harder to come to terms with.
But one bad act brings out many good acts in response. When I explain my bruises to curious questioners I am met with universal kindness and genuine caring support. Costa Rica depends on tourism and are rightly proud of their beautiful country. People have gone out of their way to comfort me, a total stranger in the supermarket have me a hug.
So I will concentrate on the high points of Costa Rica: the parade of wildlife which exceeded my expectations, the lush green countryside, the cool waterways alive with life, the gentle villagers, the early morning canoe rides into the jungle, the crashing Caribbean surf. I shall miss the sloth outside my cabin, who opened one eye every morning and the other every evening, the flamboyant display of birds and butterflies, the monkeys howling through the night, I have so many positive memories of this spectacular country and that's the way I will remember it.
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