Club Med

Written 1-4-08

This last week I find myself in a strange place.
I call it Club Med.
My friend Mash calls it his apartment.

My lovely friend Mash, whom I met 2 years ago when working in the Selkirk Pub in south London, has taken Andy and I in and spoiled us rotten. He lives in a small, surburb-like town called Santa Ana, outside of San Jose, the capital city of Costa Rica. He also has a sweet-ass job of being an online marketing guy for an illegal online gambling company...which I think sounds like a lot of fun. By "illegal" I mean that there are a lot of gray areas. Anyway...usually it's best to just skip the big cities when traveling, as it's hard to get around and there's usually a good chance of getting your stuff stolen. So here I am, chillin in Suburbia.

The other day I even went to the mall, which was horrible beyond words...but that's a story in itself. Costa Rica is a very interesting and perplexing country. Apparently they don't have addresses here, or street names...or street signs, really. Mash's address reads:

Rachel's friend Mash
200 meters east of the Red Cross Sign
Santa Anna
Costa Rica...or something to that effect. On the completely opposite side, there has been this crazy modernization. There's a whole lot of fake breasts, shiny cars, and small trendy shopping centers. Costa Rica has been hit by a technology boom, and has become hard for travelers, because it's just as expensive as the States. I do have to admit, though, that I like going to the cash machines here. There's nothing like taking out 50,000 colones ($100) that just makes you feel kinda good, like you're sitting on a gold mine.

It's a good thing Mash took us in, because I'm just now getting well again. I contracted some crazy Nicaraguan stomach virus and needed some serious R&R. We were staying on an organic farm in the middle of an island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. It was brought on either by the straight-from-the-utter-still-warm-milk or the tap water labeled "filtered." May I also add that not even the Nicaraguans drink their tap water.

Here at Club Med we have use of a swimming pool, washing machine, internet, a kitchen, HOT SHOWERS, and a private room where people don't steal your stuff.
I am in Backpacker's Paradise.

Oh, and last night Mash, his girlfriend Natale, and her brothers took us out for a nice dinner, and I tried blood sausage, which is apparently a very traditional Costa Rican dish. To be polite, I only gulped down one glass of water instead of four after trying the sausage.

Here's to vegetables!