Jaco is a small strip-mall of a surfing town south of Puntarenas. The hostel I’m staying in is sad and prison-like. The entrance is a sliding barred door and there is also a barred door separating the front room from the rest of the building. I am the only one here. The owner is an old ex-Marine who has recently gone blind in his right eye due to glaucoma. He had me stand outside in the light to see me. He sized me up to make sure I wasn’t a drug addict or alcoholic. He said he screens everyone. He was watching Fox News and even though he could barely see he knew which anchor was which because he’d been watching for years. His crazy Boston-born friend Miami Mike stopped by and he told the craziest story about his last trip back to the states. He said he was on a plane and he blacked out and when he came to he was in a hospital. Also just before that he saw people following him.
There are eight beds in the dorm. Four on each side of the room. The bottom bunks run together so that I can’t imagine it would be comfortable having a taller person sleep next to you because his feet would be sticking in your bed and there’d be nothing you could do about it. The owner said business was down sharply. Only had ten people last month and made $85 the whole month.
It is raining hard here. A torrential downpour.
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