Llevar a cabo

We had our first long weekend break from school, and there was no Prague or Budapest, because we still haven’t figured out overnight arrangements for our dog. But even though that meant only day trips, we were still able to llevar a cabo, or "carry to end," which means "pull something off": seeing the Caribbean and the Pacific oceans in two consecutive days.

The long weekend was because of Costa Rica’s independence day, so we decided to spend one day in Limón, the Caribbean port city that was the focus of celebrations (At our school assembly, this meant students wearing fake dreadlocks and Bob Marley shirts; hardly the heritage the tourism ministry would promote, I bet).

We thought that perhaps the city, not normally a tourist destination, would have some sort of timely patriotic draw. Apparently, though, celebrating independence in Limón means freedom from capitalism. The downtown was pretty dead except for one bar and a handful of shaved ice vendors, both of which we patronized.

So we decided to celebrate independence day just like some do in the States: going to the beach and drinking beer. The nearby beach, Playa Bonita, wasn’t extremely bonita, as you can see, but the beach restaurant food was good and the Pilsen was cold.

We had already decided to celebrate our independence from school by going to a beach on the Pacific. Playa Jaco, recent host of the international Billabong surfing competition, is dogged by controversy because of imposing development, which has driven the quality of life down and the cost of living up. Tim can verify the latter from inquiring about a hookah, which cost $45. I guess the shop owner, who happens to be Israeli, wasn’t expecting us to know that the same nargilahs cost $10 in Jaffa.

But by going on a Monday, when the rest of the country still had to work, we perhaps dodged the normal ire directed at the tourist influx. Besides, we spent most of our time on the beach, avoiding typical tourist activities; because of the rough waves, not even that many people were swimming. We didn’t get in most of the time ourselves, preferring to veg on the sand instead.

Ironically, when we went to find independence festivities in Limon, they were nowhere to be found, but when we went to Jaco, they seemed to follow us. On the bus ride there, we passed the independence torch, being carried throughout Central America by students, in a kind of united, flaming middle finger to Spain. And on the way back, the bus had to take a detour because a drum corps, in full regalia, was playing for some village residents in the middle of the central plaza.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get photos of either from the bus window. In fact, I was too lazy to take shots of nearly everything. Let’s just say I was too busy enjoying my independence from constructive thought and action.