PUERTO VIEJO - escaping prison

Puerto Viejo started off with a full bottle of Cacique (a national Costa Rican rum) and meeting my friend from Costa Rica who I hung out with in a group of friends 2 years ago.

The days went past the bottles emptied. My Dutch travel friends arrived as well. Many nice people in the hostel, karaoke nights, New Years at the beach, night swims at the beach with a bit of bioluminescence plankton and interesting conversations.

We sang karaoke one night. The hostel filled up with people from all over the world. A security guard was walking around the hostel with a taser in his hands.
*Bzzzzz* (he enjoyed the sound of it -
Probably more of the power it gave him)

A dude with a headband was sitting on his own at the end of the bar.
At one point he stood up and rocked the floor. Great voice, lyrics came naturally- he entertained the whole crowd. No one wanted to sing after him 😆
(Me remembering my crew blasting out Dutch songs in full volume without knowing the lyrics!)

He enjoyed the attention, probably hasn’t had it in a while. Something eery about him.
He sat in the smoking area when I joined with two of the boys. I was curious how he got here.

“Dodged prison” he said laughingly. “Just joking”.
He wasn’t.

“How?” I asked him.
“Caught me with booze in the car and was about to be sentenced 5 years”

“5 years for booze?” I asked?
Silence.

“It’s hard to live here. 3 Dollars per day as a handyman- can barely survive. It’s possible to grow weed here he said”

There we go.

“They get theirs from California” I replied. Growing is hard because it gets moldy down here.

“Up in the mountains” he mumbled.

The two boys had left by the time. I saw them blasting their voices out in karaoke.
The tattooed karaoke starlet looked up in the sky. “Long time without family. Passport runs out soon, I’ll probably never see them again. People lock their windows with bars down here, did you notice?”

“You know” I said - life always gives you what you can handle. You just have to find out how to work the game. Use your talents, do something with what you’re good at- music!” He smiled. Be a little bit of a criminal, but have your own morals about it, rob the bad people maybe and help others on the way. And while you do that work on boats. Boats are not checked as much as frontiers are.”

He laughed “12 miles off each coast is international waters, that could work.”
“That would be 20km according to google” I nodded. “That could work.

“A family would be nice, but who would want me?” He continued staring at his weed pipe.
“Or a sugar mummy”.
“You don’t need no fucking sugar mommy!” We both laughed - smoke coming out of his mouth. “You’re a fucking counsellor or what?” He said while coughing.

He had something friendly about him, bad childhood, hard environments, music. Lost it all. A bit broken but on his way. I kind of hoped he doesn’t end up in prison while I walk back to my friends.

*bzzzzz” taser guy on lower mission. He was everywhere.

The night ended with me and my Dutch friends hiking through the jungle - going on a night swim. There was plankton around us that glimmered - the moon shining brightly in the sky. Happiness.
We got back out- all wet, a warm breeze of air, the stars were sparkling. It was 3:30am as I was tiptoeing to the bathroom trying not to wake up my bunk bed neighbor. Quick shower, back to bed. The room is dark.
Sirens go off.

*WEOO WEOO*

Someone broke into the hostel.
More sirens. Then silence.

*bzzzzz* Taser guy is back, circling the buildings like a cat.

Silence.
2 hours to go until my pickup to Manuel Antonio arrives. It’s time to leave.Read more