I woke up from a deep sleep and looked to see that I had a roommate come in during the night, the first I had during my whole stay in Panama. I ate and packed up my things while I called my mother as it was her birthday. I also called my aunt as it was her birthday too. On my way out of the hostel, I kept looking forward as the woman that did not care if I got heat stroke was working. She said goodbye and I did the same not looking over. My Uber was waiting.

My driver was very nice and we started chatting. However, we both got nervous as we were heading down the highway and sirens blared. Looking in the rearview, we saw we were getting stopped by the police. I could only imagine what was going to happen. An officer came over and asked the driver about the strange placement of his license plate. He told the officer that he had some cool lights around it that people stole, breaking the holder for it. The answer seemed to satisfy the officer and we were back on our way with only a warning to get it fixed. 

I arrived at the airport early as usual, precisely due to the fact that I plan for the unplannable. It was the same big Panama airport from which I transferred to Ecuador, so I was well versed in its offerings given my meanderings from before. After clearing customs, I lost my Nalgene water bottle that I had since I was helping with disasters in Monroe, Louisiana. I then realized I left it at a water fountain and came back to find it untouched. I guess it was the remnants of heat stroke. 

I found my seat on the plane, listened to some audiobook shorts, watched the first half of Shawshank Redemption, and soon landed in Costa Rica. I had a very tight time window to get my bus from San José to Jacó and my goddamn bag didn’t come out on the luggage belt for 45 minutes. After I got it, I quickly hailed an Uber, and off we went into the Costa Rican late afternoon. There was a lot of traffic but somehow I made it to the station with 40 minutes to spare.

It was a cool little station with a lot of shops, restaurants, foosball, and a candelabra store(?) My bus pulled into the station and after it was unloaded of the previous occupants, I showed my ticket, put my bag in the hold, and found my seat. It was a harrowing drive. The driver of the bus was on his phone, listening to merengue and driving 120 kph (75 mph) on twisty back roads for 2.5 hours. By God’s grace, we arrived at Jacó terminal which was just that, a place where the bus stopped and let us out.

It was after dark and I had little to no idea of my orientation. Luckily, I had the foresight to download a map of the area with step-by-step instructions on how to get to the hostel. So, with the aid of my compass, I walked through the moonlight to it, arriving at around 10 PM. I could hear the ocean but had no idea where it was. I was shown my room, dropped off my stuff, took a shower, and went right to sleep.

I got up the next day feeling quite refreshed. The salty sea air and the sound of waves always put me in a deep sleep. I got up and went out to the hostel-provided breakfast which was one plate-sized pancake. It was simple but delicious. My seat at the table, like the four next to me, were swings suspended from the ceiling. It was an incredibly laidback vibe, exactly what I needed for winding down my year-long adventure.

There were many people sitting around the table from all over the world. There was a couple from the UK that was taking a bit of a holiday while their stuff was being transported to New Zealand where they would be starting new lives. There was an older couple from Canada that were originally from Hungary and Germany respectively. There was also a couple from Montreal and a New York Yankee.

We all chatted for a bit, then I realized that Chris and Angie, the UK couple, and Amanda the New York Yankee were my roommates. I was invited by Chris and Angie to show me the beach, which was a five-minute walk away. It was gorgeous. The sand was brown and seemed to go out for a mile before it hit the waves. I knew I would really enjoy walking along it even more so when a team of horses galloped by. I then headed to the store to get some provisions in town. I guess due to the many American tourists to the area, the store was set up like one from the US: big aisles, frozen food sections, and even fish in a tank.

After getting food for the week and a few days I would be here, I had to do some client work. I took my computer outside and sat in a swing at the cleared table and did some work as the Costa Rican heat did the same.

After work, I was again invited by Chris and Angie with Amanda in tow up to El Mira. El Mira was a lookout spot high above the city and sea that was once a restaurant that fell into disrepair. It was soon discovered by the local youth and subsequently, was covered in graffiti. We had to traverse some dirt roads with monkeys watching us, but it was well worth the 20-minute hike. Looking out over the whole of Jacó was utterly gorgeous and surreal.

After we walked back, I cracked open a beer and began to cook some dinner. I had a work call after, which was fine. I hung out with my hostel mates for a little bit, read some, then blissfully went to sleep with the waves being my lullaby again.

The next day, the crew from Room 2 had breakfast together again. Afterward, since we all had nothing planned, Chris, Angie, and I all sat around just talking. When 11:30am rolled about, I figured it was time to crack an Imperial beer. While Chris was English, Angie was Welsh and spoke it fluently. I asked her to please say that really long word in Welsh. She asked if I meant Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, which of course I did. It is not only the longest word in English but also the name of a small Welsh town. It means St Mary’s Church in the Hollow of the White Hazel Near to the Rapid Whirlpool of Llantysilio of the Red Cave. Of course, she said it perfectly. 

But the conversation took a darker turn into the realm of the English class system. Angie was a beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed young woman. When she was growing up, she needed to go to an English school where she was bullied mercilessly by her English classmates and teachers for being Welsh. As an American, I found this very difficult to comprehend. The conversation went like this:

Me: Did you wear different clothes?
Angie No.
Me: Did you cut your hair differently?
Angie: No.
Me: Did you speak Welsh in school to friends?
Angie: It was prohibited.
Me: Well, then. What the fuck?
Angie: Exactly.

Still, my education in the English class system was quite lacking. But that was OK. I said I had some errands to do and that I would see them later. I walked into town to get my brother-in-law a little bottle of something and then mailed a few postcards. Then I headed back to the hostel to do some more client work. While I was finishing up, I opened my specially imported bottle of Havana Club 3 Year (the best for mixing.) I brought it with me from Panama because I heard that there was an increase in alcohol taxes in Costa Rica to assist in their budget deficit. The bottle had cost me $10 US in Panama. Had I waited, it would have been the equivalent of $40. 

After work, I finally headed down to the beach to swim. There were not a lot of people, so I rolled the dice and left my flip-flops, sunglasses, and towel on the beach while I went in. The water was so warm and lovely. I then walked down the beach some, then walked back to my hostel and made dinner. When I returned, I called A and we chatted some. It was a very nice call. I then read a little and went to bed.

The next day was Valentine’s Day. So of course I did the boyfriend thing and the first thing I did when I woke up was put a picture of A and myself on Facebook professing both my love and affection. After breakfast, it was Chris and Angie’s last day so we shot the shit for a bit while they were figuring out what to do before they went to New Zealand. I did some client work while they cleaned up and packed. We said our goodbyes when their Uber pulled up to take them all the way to San José. I never like when people I like have to leave.

I consoled myself by doing some more client work until both the power and the internet started getting spotty. So, I took it as a sign to head down and enjoy the beach. I came back, did some more work, then borrowed a bike from the hostel to go get some more supplies.

I returned and found that the Hungarian/German/Canadian couple had left leaving some of their precut pineapples in the fridge with a note saying that it was for whoever wanted it. Loving free hostel food, I was that person. With it, I made some pineapple pork fried rice for dinner. It was very good.

After dinner, I headed to one of the supplied hammocks and just chilled out for a while. It felt good not really having any pressing deadlines and just being able to enjoy the sounds of nature. One of the more interesting aspects of this backyard was the ant colony that lived there. Day in and day out they were working, except when Sunday rolled around. Then none of them could be found. It was most curious. 

With Chris and Angie gone, I met my two new roommates, both girls from Reading, Pennsylvania; this was about an hour and a half from where I grew up. So we talked about Pennsylvania and the East Coast.

After, I did some more work while sipping three granadilla cocktails before I decided to call it a night. I climbed into bed and watched Under the Silver Lake which was recommended to me by a friend. It was utterly terrible. Not too long after I fell asleep.     

The next day, I realized that it had been one year since I moved out of my apartment in New Orleans and took a flight to see my mother, thus starting my grand voyage. I had two breakfasts as a new resident at the hostel was Austrian and celiac, so she did not want her pancake. After breakfast, I did some work, then borrowed the bike again. I wanted to see more of Jacó, so I went to the edge of town and purchased some more mixers for my Havana Club.

When I returned, I put together a consultation for A’s boss. She had given up the freezer job and became a waitress at a sports bar. This guy wanted to increase his market share, so I offered to have a look at his online presence as a way for A to get better into his good graces. Afterward, I went back to the beach and played around in the water until it was time for dinner. I mixed up a few drinks while I made dinner and was soon joined by Dan and Kris from Canada that were new arrivals. When they found out I was American, their eyes lit up.

Now, I usually shy away from political discussion. However, while Dan and Kris were both avowed Canadian socialists, they were very well-versed in American politics and were incredibly respectful of my views. While we agreed to disagree on a lot of issues, I was able to at least open their minds a bit wider about people like me. My roommate Lisa came out to join us, so we proverbially went back into our separate political corners for the night. However, we promised to keep talking.

I was telling them about my worldwide adventure and somehow the topic got to Northern Ireland. I told them I really liked Belfast. It was then that Dan suggested I pick up a copy of the book Violent Delights. It is the story of a British SAS soldier that fell in love with an IRA bomb courier. I made sure to put it on my list. 

The following day, after group breakfast, Dan, Kris, and I all chatted some more. I then needed to take a nap as I had a big day ahead of me. I was going ATVing through the rainforest.

I made a day pack and soon an all-terrain golf cart came and picked me up. The place was not far down the strip of Jacó. When I arrived at the office, they had me sign a release, make a deposit on the ATV should anything happen, then gave me a crash course of ATVing.

Basically, whenever one needs to break, it should be 50-50. One of the hand brakes controlled the rear brakes. If you did that 100%, you would fishtail. The other break was the front brake. If you did that 100%, you would go end over end and probably flatten yourself like Ozzy Osbourne.

With that primer, we headed out on the city streets of Jacó. We were thrown in the deep end as our guide did not even wait for us at intersections. We went from clear streets to dusty roads to jungle paths pretty quickly. I was very happy to have purchased the supplied skull facemask to keep the dirt out.

We headed up hills, down hills, across dirt tracks, through streams, and through deep mud with beautiful nature all around. It was a hell of a lot of fun. We stopped at a few waterfalls and even a few bars(???) The bar we stopped to rest at for about an hour had a very distinct picture on the bar. It was a picture of one of the characters from El Chavo del Ocho.

El Chavo del Ocho was a Mexican sitcom from the 70s that gained a massive following throughout a majority of Latin America including Brazil. It featured adults as children growing up in a lower-class apartment complex or vecinidad with the protagonist being an orphan. It covered a lot of serious topics in humorous ways such as poverty, hunger, sadness, and lack of adequate adult supervision for children. It has such a following because the issues the show featured transcended countries. 

After noticing the photo, I started talking to the guide in Spanish and he seemed very surprised. He mentioned five times how much he hated his job and how hard he worked for good tips. I just nodded my head, trying to figure out why driving ATVs every day through the beautiful rainforest was such a chore. I guess given the opportunity, people will complain about anything.

It was at this point, I heard an ATV engine roar. I turned my head just in time to see one go off the mountain path. I stood up. My guide told me to calm down. He went over to a guide of the other group that had a tour around him. It was one of his group that went off the mountain. My guide stayed with the group and the other walked down. After a bit, the other tour guide came back and mine came back to us at the restaurant bar. I asked what happened. Apparently, there was a Mexican gentleman that had been hotdogging the whole time, not listening to instructions from his guide: going fast when he should not have, going slow when he should not have, was not not paying attention, etc. It was this guy that went off the side of the mountain. He broke everything. It took about another 20 minutes for the ambulance to show up.

We then headed back to the ATV office through a lot of the same paths we took up the mountain. We even saw a few wild toucans and macaws. When we all finally returned,  I thanked them for a great time, tipping my guide. I could see on his face he was expecting more, but whatever.

I was very dusty, so before I went back to the hostel, I walked right into the ocean to clean myself. Afterward, I walked back, cleaned up more while putting my other clothes on the clothesline, and relaxed.

My new roommate was a super annoying Spanish girl that admonished me for not knocking when I can back into the room. I looked around at the 4 beds and figured she knew that this was a mixed dorm with people coming and going all the time. I still apologized and suggested that maybe she change in the bathroom.

I cooked dinner and talked with Kris and Dan again. Apparently, he was very much a Bernie Bro even though he was from Canada. Dan even sent him campaign contributions that had to be returned because he was a foreign national. I told him about how big a sellout he was in 2016 when Hillary stole the nomination from him. While I am completely opposed to his message, I admired his conviction and supposed incorruptibility until that point. But, Bernie needed his houses and jets like a typical high level communist.

While we were conversing, Kris made a very interesting statement. She said that in her younger days, she was a hardcore Maoist. So much so that she went to China to study. The cracks in the totalitarian paradise started to become visible when she was unable to email her family. Apparently, the State was reading her emails and decided they were too critical of China. They simply were never sent. She was still a socialist but began thinking that maybe complete government control of the means of production was not the answer.   

I got up the next day and enjoyed the communal breakfast. I had to say my goodbyes to Dan and Kris as they would be leaving while I was out on another excursion. I was heading to the zipline park!

Now, I am no stranger to ziplining. It was a summer camp past time for many years when I was growing up. What was new to me what that I would be doing ziplining in a rapid fashion as the park had 10 different lines going through the jungle. Another twist was that I would need to use my gloved hands for braking. 

I arrived at the park, got fitted for my harness, then with my group of 25, loaded up in a deuce and a half truck up to the top of the mountain. Since I was the first solo person ready, I would be the leader of the group. Whenever I landed, I needed to move my ass as the next person was not far behind. I even did my signature Spider-Man hang for the waiting cameras. It was a lot of fun.

After, I headed back to the hostel, but stopped at a sports bar and had lunch. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich and a beer which I thought was a fitting meal for the day. I went back to the hostel, changed, then headed to the beach. While I was frolicking, a wave snuck up on me and put me under while wearing both my hat and sunglasses, so that was not fun.

I went back to the hostel, cleaned up, did some more work, then watched one of my favorite films The Death of Stalin before going early to bed. I had sloths to see in the AM!

I woke up the next day after breakfast, I packed my daypack and tried to get ready for my excursion. Unfortunately, the power was out when I was trying to go brush my teeth when I noticed there was something scurrying in the dark. I turned on my flashlight and saw that it was a frog. I decided he had called dibs and went to the other bathroom.

The van was late picking me up, which was fine before we started our voyage to the Manuel Antonio Nature Park. As we were driving, we noticed a few palm plantations. This is where they were making palm oil. We then arrived at the park, gained admittance, and our guide shared many aspects about the animals and the country.

If one has spent any amount of time in Costa Rica, their national phrase is Pura Vida (Pure Life.) Apparently, this was taken from a Mexican TV show. I learned that like Panama, Costa Rica has no standing army protecting its 5 million inhabitants. Also, the country had a revolution in 1948, which is when the army was disbanded.

But we came out to this park to see animals and there sure were a lot! We saw three and two-toed sloths, howler, whiteface, and squirrel monkeys, Jesus lizards, regular lizards, and birds. I learned that sloths were called perezozos in Spanish which means lazy ones. I learned that the giant sloths used to live in caves as trees were unable to support or protect them. As they got smaller, they moved apart evolutionarily into the three-toed and two-toed varieties. The three-toed have markings on their shoulders while the two-toed have markings on their back.

The other big attraction to the park was the squirrel monkeys. They were a temperamental bunch. They had no qualms about stealing things from unsuspecting patrons’ packs, usually equating crinkly wrapping to food. Boy were they surprised when they came across tampons. They would often show their displeasure by peeing on people. Squirrel monkeys also banded together more as they were small.

I learned that when howler monkeys matured, they needed to be adopted by a new tribe which entailed the males mating with all the females of the new tribe while if the new applicant were female, she would only mate with the alpha.

I also learned that Costa Rica was also a victim of the fourth most profitable form of trafficking after drug, human, and arms; animals. Apparently, it was not just the cute and cuddly that are stolen from the country, but also insects like butterflies and beetles.

After our stay in the park, we went to a rather interestingly themed restaurant, El Avion. Now, a little crash course in Central American history. During the 1980s, there were several communist insurgencies getting footholds in the Western Hemisphere. One of the more notable was the Sandinistas of Nicaragua. To try and quell the revolutionary fever, the Reagan administration embarked on a program that the media would dub Iran-Contra. This would culminate in a convoluted way where the United States government would traffic arms to Iran to curry favor to release hostages in Lebanon, then take the money from those sales (without Congressional knowledge) and send them to counter-revolutionaries in Nicaragua, colloquially called contras.

On October 5^th, 1986, on a mission to rendezvous with the contras, one of the CIA’s contracted C-123 cargo planes was shot down over Nicaragua after flying from a friendly airstrip in Costa Rica. Eugene Hasenfus, one of the crew members was able to parachute to safety where he was subsequently picked up by the Sandanistas, thus exposing this clandestine operation to the world. The CIA was so embarrassed, that they simply left the sister plane that was purchased with the Iranian arms money at the San José airport. It was subsequently purchased and turned into a restaurant and bar.

After lunch, we had some time to look around. I was able to climb up into the cockpit and sit. Here I was in the driver’s seat of history.

After arriving back at the hostel, I put on my swimsuit and went down to the water for a bit, thinking about all I had seen as I watched the sunset. I headed back, made dinner, and fixed myself a cocktail. I was worried that when I purchased this bottle, I would not be able to finish it in a mere week and a few days. How wrong I was. I washed up after dinner, watched the film American Made regarding the life of the famed Louisiana born (and subsequently died) Colombian cocaine smuggler Barry Seal then blissfully went to sleep.

My last day in Jacó started like every other: I went to the communal breakfast. Thankfully, my annoying Spanish roommate was leaving so I would at least have a restful night’s sleep that night.

I filled my morning with walking over to an open-air market, kind of like a bourgeoise strip mall. I then walked to the edge of town to the bus station as a dry run to make sure I knew where I needed to go the next day with my digital ticket.

I headed back to the hostel and checked in with A. She said that it would be a shame if we were so close together and not see each other so she asked if it was OK to come to Key West where I would congregate with my family in the coming days. I told her it was a great idea and I could hear the excitement in her voice. After talking to her, I had to talk to one of my really annoying clients, but hearing the sea made it OK.

I left the hostel to go have lunch, which was the shittiest yet most expensive lunch on my entire trip. It was at a roadside stand on the strip of Jacó where I had warm ceviche and fried fish cubes. It is a wonder I did not get sick.

After lunch, I took a hike back up to the defunct restaurant on the top of a mountain, just to take some time and think about everything I had seen and done. There were so many free monkeys going through the trees and looking at me. I stood, looked out at the beach and the waves, and thanked God yet again for letting me be able to take this trip.

I went back to the hostel and wanted to take a photo of the sunset on my last day in Jacó. So, I put my phone in a plastic bag in my Life-proof case and frolicked in the waves with it in my pocket as I did not want to leave it on the beach.

It was at this time when I was playing in the waves that two snuck up on me in rapid succession, knocking me over and stealing my hat with my glasses that were intertwined. I was blind and frantically feeling around. Some guy on the beach pointed at it and I scrambled over to find it. I lifted it up to put the glasses on my face when the clear lens fell out. I was fucked. I then thought of my phone. I took it out of my pocket just to see it short out. Water had not only gotten into the bag but it permeated my case into the phone as well. FUCK! Thoughts went through my head: no banking, no Uber, NO BUS TICKET.

I went right back to the hostel and put my phone in my leftover rice, hoping it would dry it out. I met a few new people at the hostel, some Austrians named Chris and Ivana as I made dinner. They seemed nice.

Throughout the night, I tended to my phone like a nursing infant; waking every hour or two to rotate the phone in the rice. I read some then finally got up to have breakfast. I chatted with the Austrians for a bit, then got packing. I said my goodbyes and then started heading for the bus station with my heavy load. I was able to flag down a taxi which took us a little way, then the driver picked up his father (?) on the way to the station.

Since my phone died, I was unable to produce my digital ticket. I did have my name and passport number, the information I used when I needed to purchase the ticket. Apparently, that was not enough. The guy behind the counter said that it said very clearly on the ticket that it would be the only way to get on the bus. I asked if there was anything he could do given the circumstance. He called his boss and his boss said the same thing.

Luckily, I knew this was a possibility, so I made a PDF copy of the ticket on my computer. I whipped out my laptop and I showed it to him and he gave me a thumbs up. I still do not get the system here. The bus pulled up, I showed the driver my computer and he let me board. It was very strange how they just stopped and picked up people along the way that were selling goods. Other than that, there were no issues.

We got back to the same cool bus station in San José where I immediately found an ATM and took out $40,000 Colones as I A) Would need to take a cab to the airport if there was no way I could get an Uber the next day and B) I did not know if there would be anywhere close to get money. I then found out something that would save the day: One can Uber from a laptop computer. I got a driver, waited until he got close, closed my laptop, then went outside and found his car.

We drove through San José and he dropped me off at my hostel for the night. It was a funky building that looked a lot like a hotel. There were young people all about, pool tables, a nice dining area, and even a pool. I was shown my room, a six topper that were pod-like. I locked up my bags and headed down to a small convenience store where I got some food for dinner, for my travels the next day, and of course, beer. I then went up to the roof of the hostel where I had a Simpson’s themed Duff beer while I watched my hostel mates play with some kittens. I drank my beer, looking out over San José as the sunset. This would be the last night of my year-long journey. I stood there, deep in thought before tiredness overtook me.

I took a shower, climbed into bed, and as I was watching the Terminator, my bunkmate, a middle-aged Chinese man began hacking up a lung. He called his family in Canada and said that he had been coughing uncontrollably for three days. He said he was achy. Thinking about what this could be, I put it out of my mind. The Covid numbers had started to rise around the world, including deaths. It was not a trivial matter anymore. How right I would be. 

I woke up on the exact one-year anniversary of the start of my trip. I got up and had breakfast then headed back up to pack my stuff. My Covid questionable roommate was nowhere to be found.

I then used my computer to call an Uber to go to the airport. As we sped through the San José morning, I talked to my driver and he told me that Costa Rica was in a financial crisis which is why they raised taxes on EVERYTHING. We had a great talk. He was absolutely amazed that I had been around the world and he felt lucky to talk to me and be my driver on my last trip. I paid him my fare, plus a large tip of all my Costa Rican coins. He thanked me profusely.

I checked in at the airport but realized I had a leftover beer from Jacó. I just found a perch and sat there, watching all the travelers go to and fro as I finished it. One more celebration before security. After going through with no problems I began looking for souvenirs. The prices were ridiculous, like $20 for a 3-inch stuffed sloth. So I just decided to get a magnet or two as they were more reasonable.

I changed out the rest of my Colones for Dollars and went to my gate. Unfortunately, my flight to Ft Lauderdale was delayed, but I was OK with it. I sat there patiently waiting. All of a sudden, we were boarding. I found my seat and with that, my year-long international adventures would come to an end.

Or so I thought.