Back for work for ten days, not exactly happy about it. Doesn't help that everyone is gone - probably to the beach for the holidays. The streets in my neighborhood, Barrio Escalante, are completely empty. All the stores and restaurants are closed. My favorite cafe is hermetically sealed - the elves are taking advantage. I drive into the heart of downtown hoping for a breakfast in the central market. If there is a sadder downtown in the world, I've not seen it. It's a weather beaten cinder block gulag that even the devil himself has abandoned. On every corner a clutch of equally weather beaten humans eye me hungrily as I pass. Central market - closed. I am starving by this point.
Out of desperation I drive into "Gringolandia" on the southwest edge of town. Otherwise known as Escazu, it is the epicenter of expat life. It is boring and bland and I've reserved a special corner of my spiteful heart for it. It is equally empty - the security guards outnumber me four to one. They're dressed in brown pants and shirts, white helmets and mirrored sunglasses. They are futuristic UPS delivery men, buzzing by on Segways, eyeing me as intensely as their less fortunate brethren had downtown. I spot an open Starbucks. I sit, take out my computer and do my Spanish homework. There are only two others - Americans. A tall, lithe bald black man with a silver beard and a short woman with curly black hair. I peg him as a former basketball player, though he could be a retired lawyer for all I know. I write this blog post.
Good thing I loaded up on food and drink yesterday. Looks like I might be eating Starbucks muffins until Monday.....
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