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Beer and Clothing in Costa Rica (Part IV)
After a fun day of swinging through the trees like monkeys on
steroids, Sean and I had decided on the best course of action, sleeping,
drinking and lying on the beach. Luckily, I was an expert at all these
activities. My main problem was that I was consuming books and magazines at a
fast pace. To conserve my precious reading materials, I decided sleeping and
listening to music was a good diversion. The next few days were uneventful,
except for another brushfire. I guess Costa Ricans don't fret over 15 foot
flames, but the tourists at the resort were pretty freaked out. When I was
outside in a white T-shirt, with in 30 seconds, I could notice ash on me. What
else can I tell you about these next few days. Sean and I spent very little time
by the noisy pool, instead we spent our time on the beach and at the spa. The
spa is a pool and workout facility for adults only. No sniveling children. No
children peeing in the pool (only I did). No loud, lame ass music. And no shade.
Can you believe that there were no pool umbrellas anywhere? It's like 35 to 40
degrees every day and there is no shade. We're told to get out of the sun during
the day. Well, unless we go inside, there is no shade. How dumb is that? We
spend some serious scratch on a resort and no shade. Spend $20 on an umbrella!
The next three days were a haze of drinking water (by this time, I had virtually
given up alcohol during the day, it was too damn hot and my teeth were rotting
under the barrage of guaro saguaro), sleeping, reading, listening to music,
swimming and sunning. I did see an iguana the size of a small dog. In fact, my
girlfriend's dog would have been eaten by this gigantic lizard. I was walking
down the beach with Sean and I said: "God dammit, that iguana is the size
of a dog!" I got a picture of it. Pretty big lizard. By the last day,
Sunday, Sean and I were nicely tanned, completely out of shape, and ready for
another week of vacation. Of course, we had an early wakeup call, because our
flight was at noon. Monday morning, we get up, have breakfast and head to the
airport. Another comfortable ride on those smooth roads. I guess Costa Rica has
never learned the fine art of pavement, concrete, or even dirt. They like to big
ass rocks lie in the middle of their roads. Go figure. The airport was a fun
experience. First off, the airport the size of McDonalds. You know what? I think
that slights a McDonalds. McDonalds are usually larger. No air conditioning. Of
course, it was hot. Damn hot. So we had to line up, check in and wait with the
unbearable heat. Luckily Sean and I scammed three seats for the two of us, which
was awesome. Sean and I both took part in survey's by the Costa Rican tourist
board. There were the usual questions. Did you like your trip? Where did you
stay? What did you do? Who did you fuck? Did you enjoy the drugs? Are you
importing or exporting narcotics? What do you think of the our national slogan,
"Come to Costa Rica, it's like Cuba without Commies"? I told him. Yes.
Blue Bay Village Papagao. Slept and drank. No one. Didn't have any. Exporting.
Pretty cool. Actually, the national slogan is "Costa Rica: All
Natural". I was thinking, it would have been better if it were, "Costa
Rica: No added preservatives". Or "Costa Rica: Only one calorie".
The airport was open air, which means, damn hot. And we had to wait there for
two hours. Nothing like having 180 angry, hot, thirsty, sun burnt Canadians who
don't want to return sitting around for two hours. At least we could buy some
crappy souvenirs. I guess the real Costa Rican entrepreneurs were at the
airport. The same good quality stuff I could have got on Thursday at lower
prices, were here, except they were more expensive and were terrible quality. On
Thursday, I could have bought authentic Indian pottery. Here, at the airport, it
was authentic mock-Indian pottery. Very subtle, but when it says "Made in
China", you raise an eyebrow. Last time I checked, no Indians in China,
unless they are from India itself. Maybe that's what they meant. It was really
Indian, just not the Indian as in native. Man, those Costa Ricans are a tricky
bunch. The airplane was exactly the same, except a bit older, so there were more
stains on the chairs. The two movies were "You've Got Mail" and
"Enemy of the State". The former stars Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, where
Meg Ryan falls in love with Tom Hanks, while listening to him over the phone and
then sends him a letter. Tom Hanks' son answers the letter, goes to New York and
hilarity ensues. Tom Hanks' kid gets chased by wacky robbers, Joe Pesci and
Daniel Stern, the same two who chased him in the previous movie. Oh, there's
some subplot about a bookstore, but since there was no violence, sex or
swearing, I didn't really watch it that close. The second movie was "Enemy
of the State". Once again proving, Jerry Bruckheimer does not make bad
movies. At the terminal our baggage carousel broke so we had to switch from
number 4 to number 3. That broke as well and we had to wait 10 minutes for it to
be fixed. I could have ran back to the plane and got my bag faster. As Sean and
I jumped into my sister's car, heading back to so-called civilization (a.k.a.
High Park), I looked back at the public eyesore called Lester B. Pearson Airport
Terminal 1 and I said to myself, "they better take a wreaking ball to that
piece of shit…" On the on-ramp to the 401, I saw a sign, it said
"Beer and Clothing in Costa Rica: Population 0". I thought, wow, how
did it know? Then I remember, it was the same damn sign from the movie L.A.
Story and it was fucking with me.
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