Sunday 27th November - A Load of Bull

Today is our last full day in Costa Rica. Three weeks have absolutely flown by and we have had great fun. We have no pressing early start scheduled and therefore no need to set an alarm. As a result we do not wake until a few minutes before six and look out to see blue skies and sunshine. The forecast suggests that this will only last until lunchtime, then rain will set in so we decide to do some walking about in the morning and visit one of the museums this afternoon. The breakfast crew are in good spirits as the Costa Rican team has beaten Japan in today's early kick off. They have every flavour of jam, which they call marmalade, except marmalade. D opts for pineapple but it's not the same really.

R is keen to see the Artisan Market so we walk five blocks south and find it first time. We normally try to find a decoration for our Christmas tree and today R has found something. The lady with the pole manages to get into a right fankle but her 6'3" husband appears and sorts things out. 

After a couple of circuits of the stalls R is ready for a sit down. There is a small square opposite,  called Parque de las Garantias Sociales, where the authorites have thoughtfully provided vandal proof seating. Rested, we walk in a westerly direction, and spot a Claro Service Centre. D goes in to ask why he cannot get a data connection with the SIM card he bought at the airport. "You have used all the data" is the suggestion. 5GB in 3 days. Pull the other one mate. One to put down to experience. At least it did work for the first three days when we needed it most. Since then the hotels' wifi and the mobile gadget with the car have kept us in touch.

We continue our perambulation and chance upon Parque Central, an open space opposite the Cathedral. Some sort of commotion is going on at the far side so we follow the crowd. This turns out not to be some sort of football based celebration but a small band providing music for people in oversized costumes to dance around. We have no idea really but it is entertaining and a few of the locals were joining in.

There is a noise of sirens further along the avenue which has been roped off in a desultory fashion. Avenues run east-west and calles (streets) run north south but the numbering system is bizarre and would take too long to explain. The sirens are not moving at any great speed and the coppers deployed are more interested in their ice lollies than any imminent crisis. Once the token representatives of Policia, Ambulancia and Bomberos have crawled past at maximum volume we see that it is a parade to celebrate rural life. 

The dancers are very enthusiastic, although R is disappointed that there is no demonstration of the tango. They are followed by an apparently endless parade of bullock carts, enlivened by the occasional lasso artist. All that is missing is the theme from Rawhide. What better way to celebrate rural life than to deposit bovine dung upon the streets of the capital city.

The roping off of the street as a crowd control measure is in the chocolate fireguard league when it comes to effectiveness. Apparently it does not apply if you want to take photographs, or force your terrified children to stroke a bull or wander out for a chat with somebody on the other side of the avenue. Nor does it apply if you have an urgent appointment back at your hotel on the far side of the parade. As we walk back to our digs it begins to rain. The internet is better behaved here for our Zoom chat than it usually is in Linlithgow.

Our afternoon excursion is to what is commonly known as the Gold Museum. It is actually three museums in one, the first bit being about life in Costa Rica up to 149? when Columbus arrived. This section features quite a few gold artefacts. The second bit is a Modern Art Gallery that our resident art critic describes as derivative and undemanding. The last bit is the history of coinage in Costa Rica since the Spaniards arrived. All a bit eclectic but interesting in parts.

All too late we realise our folly in self catering last night. There are many, many dining options in San José on a Saturday evening. On Sunday you can have KFC, who are running their Christmas menu, or Taco Bell. Even our hotel's restaurant is closed and the options in the bar do not inspire. A couple of salad boxes from the smart supermarket round the corner and a flan de coco dig us out of a hole. By way of a starter we dig into our last packet of garlic patacones. 

Life is going to get grim,