Updated: Mar 6, 2018
Returning to the industrial town of Cartago for much needed travel supplies.
November 23, 2015
The winds were cold and whipped themselves through this highland city and I deemed it time to flee the imposter of a nice dream.
From Castillo I direct bussed it back to San Jose to retrieve the broken computer. I sat around thinking/looking for a place to stay there and then it came to me! I could stay with Alexandria again! I laughably knew what I was getting myself into, but it was nice to have the revelation that I had a friend/host in the city.
My stay was pleasant. I knew where the grocers were, so I could tack the tasks promptly. I made a tasty tacos leftover ingredient dish that satisfied me well. I took my time getting up. Alexandria was around, but not feeling well and one of her friends stopped by that was having mental stress. He was seeking an audience. He was kind, but was overtaken by elements of feeling out of control. I chatted a bit with a Spaniard and Paulo, Alex's assistant. They jumped around with topics and I had a hard time keeping up in the new language.
I decided I would head to Cartago to try and locate my lost flip flops that a friend from San Theresa willingly carried over, but the directions and contacts were making it unclear. South of Cartago there are two consecutive ciudades with the name of San Isidro. Not to mention the place they were being left at had its entrance off the Pan-Am highway by a strip club.
(a ciudad is a city, larger than a pueblo)
I went there anyway and arrived while it was windy and cold. The city seemed developed with more modern buildings, freshly paved streets and the people seemingly dressed casual & modern as well. The development brought with it the illusion of its multitude of useless stores being for the 'greater good,' but none of it seemed beneficial. As I walked in a giant square loop looking for a super and then bus stations, I saw the veil come up and these were not very happy, pleasant people. They made crude comments in passing. The winds were cold and whipped themselves through this highland city and I deemed it time to flee the imposter of a nice dream.
The stores, the feeling of being urbanized, it provided nothing. Nothing but the illusion. It felt stuck in this illusion and going nowhere. Nowhere but up, up and away from reality. Away from one's roots. Covering up the concept of community, by exhaustingly expanding the size of the community.
The clouds and the mountains encircled this place as if to keep it stuck there in its isolation. A suburb to the failed city of San José. A relic of how progress can bury the mind and spirit of all those it touches.