El fin sucio de San Jose

So I passed a fine couple of days in Monteverde but on the first night when I was trying to be sociable no-one wanted to talk to me apart from a couple of Germans. The next day I walked around all day in the park and was pretty exhausted when I returned to the hostel in Santa Elena, so I didn't really feel like socialising and retired early to my room with a kick-ass book called Bangkok 8.

The next day people were queing up to chat and be friendly but sadly by that time I had drifted into a melancholy mood and grumpily distanced myself from everybody around before waiting for the midday bus back to San Jose. What a sour puss.

Well back in San Jose I continued with some marking, went to the gym, played football (we battled through a hard fought draw with the Ticos thanks to a dogged performance from our new Spanish Puyol, Antonio) and generally hung out with Toby and Eric in Parque La Sabana.

That evening however I felt like going out and drinking away my cloudy emotional state with some cats in town, perhaps at Vertigo, but when I tried to call Dave, who had told me of some entertainment earlier in the day, I only got some angry Ticos, who clearly didn't like to be hassled by poorly spoken Spanish! Que strange.

Disappointed but not bowing to the pressures of a shrinking wallet I proceeded to Eric and Ben's pad with Toby in tow for some drinking and poker that somehow turned into a jaunt across town up to a small "night-club" in San Pedro. The entrance was 5g with a couple of free drinks and we got seats dead in front of the tiny stage but somehow all that naked flesh failed to turn me on and I was left cold by the experience, completely unlike my days in Jalapa when I'd so enjoyed what was a very strong (and more erotic) social experience. To be perfectly honest the strippers looked bored for the most part and although there were some amusing moments it wasn't long before the three of us had jumped in a cab speeding (crazy taxi drivers) towards Vertigo.

Toby couldn't contain his excitement at finally finding a place that played some quality electronica, bouncing around the inside of the taxi with a Cheshire cat smile stretched like a taught tarpaulin across his chiselled Germanic mug. I simply wanted to lose myself in the music for the remainder of the evening and managed to do so for a good 4 or 5 hours of non-stop dancing, dancing, dancing.

I have no doubt that I looked like an absolute muppet to all and sundry, those upmarket Ticos who stand arrogantly looking down their noses at the manic freaks sweating away under the dim lighting and the smug presence of the DJ.

A mixed evening to be sure.

Next I'll tell you about a lady who sees Daemons!

"A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burdened with like weight of pain,
As much or more we should ourselves complain."