Bustle, Hustle, Jaco and Ping Pong

It's been awhile since I posted, due mostly to the fact that I have been going nonstop for the past ten days. After Puerto Viejo, I met old buddy Roy Dank at a San Jose bus station, where a taxi driver offered us a cheap two hour ride to Jaco. Rather than wait two hours for the next bus, we accepted. The driver turned out to be somewhat of a card, delivering impressions of all his central american neighbors. Of course, we were not aware that Nicaraguans talk *como este*, that Panamanians speak quickly >como este>, or that guatamalans generally mumble, but his enthusiasm was hilarious enough to make the ride short as well as scenic.

reaching the beach at jaco was cause for celebration, and our hotel offered some amazing amenities, like A/C and hot water. I hadn't been dry in a week and a half, and it almost felt like I was entering some grand unforeseen future getting settled into that tiny room. Think of the joy when we looked off the balcony to discover a ping pong table!

Well, things sort of declined from there. Although we got in many a game (all of which Roy won, which is usually how our games go), the beach was rocky, somewhat dirty and the waves mediocre on a bad day. mostly, though, it was the people we'll remember. For example, the young tica girls who hound you aggressively for a dance because they really want you to pay for something else. Or the trio of young ticos who deftly pinned me into the corner of the crowd as I tried to pass through to the bar and actually managed to get the velro pocket of my board shorts open before I realized my cash and hotel keys were in danger. I wasn't quick enough to catch the guy's hand in my pocket, but he didn't get anything, and as he quickly pretended to be in the middle of a conversation with the person next to him, I weighed the pros and cons of A) shouting, B) pushing, C) punching and D) simply glaring then walking away. I chose the latter, seeing as I had protected my stuff and I could not figure out how to call the guy names in a language he could understand. In retrospect, it was a good idea, as we soon learned.

We cut out of Jaco early, deciding to make an unplanned stop in Manuel Antonio. It was actually a couple of days later we heard word of a dead American tourist in Jaco, victim of a stab wound while drinking in a crowded bar. If you ever make it to Costa Rica, skip this jewel of the pacific coast. Jaco's not even worth stopping for a bus transfer, and table tennis may be found easily elsewhere. Beleive it or not, though, this was not the scariest thing that happened that week. Stay tuned....