Day 73: No offense San Jose, but we can't stay...

The trip back to San Jose took less time than we expected. Within about 4 hours, we were yet again lost on the familiar one way, congested streets that encase the airport. We’re pretty consistent with our guesses seeing as we ended up at the same intersection we were at almost one month before, asking a stranger for directions. We re-enacted the event and navigated our way down the same roads that led to the airport.


The drive made us realize that with two nights left before Matt’s flight, San Jose didn’t really appeal to us. It stinks of pollution and the cages that surround the businesses and homes just aren’t very inviting. Since we were halfway to the opposite coast, a place we had yet to see but really wanted to, we decided to just do it.

Google anticipated our ride would be 3 hours and 22 minutes to Tamarindo, a very Americanized surf town known as Tamagringo. I was nervous Google used a high speed tank with monster truck tires to get that estimate but seeing as we had nothing else to do and refused to head home, we went for it. A little over four hours later, we were greeted with the bright lights of funky restaurants (a number of them serving sushi that the thought of made us gag after our all you can eat fest), vacancy signs and souvenir shops. First order of business? Find some beds that are up to standard.

Since we couldn’t find the two I had selected from the LP guide, we decided to wing it. We stopped in a few and looked at a lot - one of which came with a peepshow. As we tried to figure out how to enter the property and where the reception desk was, we scanned the glass doors. Mike stopped on one in particular.

Mike: That lady’s rubbing her boobies.
Matt: Nuh uh.
Nicole: Shut up.
Mike: Swear to God. Look.

With a high hat spotlight pointed directly on her topless half, she enthusiastically examined herself. Until she saw her audience - two very hairy guys with a squinting chic (I didn’t bring my glasses for the occasion). The show then turned into  a disappearing act. Oh well. People with glass doors shouldn't stand naked in front of them.

For the sake of ease, we settled on familiarity at the Best Western. While the entire debacle that gave us our room took about an hour, it was worth the wait. The first standard room she put us in was still occupied but she only realized this after we completed the paperwork and got the keys. No more standard rooms were available. She felt bad, so she upgraded us to a suite for only $20 more versus the $50 it was supposed to be. When we walked in though it was clear it hadn’t been cleaned from the last occupant. With no more suites available and no staff on hand to prep it, she was forced to upgrade us to an apartment style suite with an ocean view for the same price. To her, this was such an absurd upgrade that she had to get her boss’ approval. Seeing as it was 9pm on a Sunday night, he appeared to be less interested in the money and more in being left alone. Approval took all of 20 seconds. So we got ourselves a cozy one bedroom apartment with a full kitchen, two daybeds, two air conditioners and a real hot water shower that didn’t threaten our lives – all for the same price as a “small” standard room as she described it.

We took a brief stroll around the new town only to find most places closed. We forgot. It’s Sunday. The day of rest. We ate at one of the only open restaurants before deciding that’s probably what we should do too.