Fake Tales of San Pedrito

San Jose Travel Blog

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Heh, been looking to use that title for ages.

This will be a hangover then?  One of those classic ones where little rememberences of the prior evening arrive unbidden throughout the day.  We decided to go out to celebrate Rob's last night in San José before leaving to create a cacao nursery in Talamanca and we dragged some French Canadian bloke called Michel along for the ride.

San Pedrito
For something different, we got the bus to San Pedro, the university barrio of this fair city.  There are a couple of streets here lined with bars which I have now christened San Pedrito (little San Pedro) solely for the reason it scans properly for my title.

Some observations:
  1. Costa Rican students tend to carry bags around with them all the time
  2. Descriptions of bars in guidebooks tend to bear little relation to reality
  3. Women don't seem to go out in groups, unlike England
We started out at La Villa, supposedly some sort of revolutionary hang out for the next Ché Guevara.  In fact, it is a very large house with a beer garden where sedate students jabber to one another in the dark.  Had a massive plate of food though: Parrillada Mixta, which turned out to be a mass of different dead animals and some very nice home made potato salad.

After smacking my head on a sprung door, we moved to Caccio's, which is a bar stroke pizzeria. Now, someone should introduce some place like this in England.  It sells pizza by the slice (about 50 to 70p) and they look pretty appetising.  I was still full from cow/pig/chicken, so didn't partake though.  Yet, the 2 litre glasses of green drink did tempt me.  It has a name that I cannot remember. Oldemar, ANAI co-worker, came up with the imaginative title of Cerveza con limón as it is beer with some lemony thing added but luckily Mauricio, taxi driver extraordinaire, has furnished me with the proper name: Michelada.  It was actually OK.  First they put a lemon juice thing in the glass, then fill it with beer.  To finish, some salt is spread around the recepticle's rim.  It was certainly nicer than the red drink, same process, no salt, tastes like sweets.

Mauricio also says they are for women because it takes away the taste of beer.  Pish.

From our perch in Caccio's, we espied some bar club thing across the street with waspish women dancing on a stage. As you'll gather from the last two entries, this is becoming a theme. Finishing our Michelada´s (which I have just realised is quite apt for a night out with Michel, even if he didn't have one) we wandered across the abyssesque gutters and through the door.  Obviously I don't look threatening as they let me in without ID.  A thousand colones and my "free" drink later, I stood on a dancefloor listening to some ageing, balding bloke shout random words into a microphone which maybe related to the song that was playing.  He was flanked by two dancers dressed in gold and pink.  Clearly, we debated which one was fitter - I went for the one on the left (big nose); they went for the silicon enhanced one on the right.  Some people have no taste.

Very weirdly, this place had TV screens which showed the E! Channel all night.  Why anybody would want to watch celebrities whilst listening to the compere prattle on is beyond me?

Anyhoo, I found that my dance classes actually help on a normal dancefloor and I was able to bust some moves, or some such colloquialism.  I suspect I'll remember something else later.

I left Rob and Michel outside of the office afterwards as they wanted to search out some food.  Vargas Araya, 1am, on a Thursday?  I think not.

Higton says:
Exactamente, mi amigo
Posted on: Feb 21, 2007
llmikeyj says:
Big nose, eh? What, in a Lesley kind of way? Noraarf.
Posted on: Feb 15, 2007
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