The Local Fiesta. Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica.

I packed my bag for the second attempt to journey towards the Caribbean coast. I spent a few weeks in this beautiful area when I was last in Costa Rica, so I was highly looking forward to seeing the changes that have taken place since then.

I arrived at the bus station with a friend, only to discover that there was no seats lefts. But they did tell us that we could stand for the four and half hour ride if we wanted. How kind of them to give us an offer like that, which we went ahead and took since we were anxious to get going. I’ve taken trips like this before, so I have became quite successful at standing in various positions. If I ever get really tired, I sometimes just lay on the floor. Of course, everyone looks at me crazy…but who cares. Laying usually allows me to sleep…something that is close to impossible while standing. Another popular position though is ass in the face, which consists of standing right next to someone, so close that they smell you. If your lucky, usually they get pissed off and end up moving, thus giving you a seat. Didn’t work this time around.

Once we arrived, we grabbed our accommodation (which consisted of a large open space with hammocks for us to sleep in) and headed off to explore the town. After talking with some people, we heard about local festivities for the night. No one had any factual information on what was going to happen, but rumor had it that there was going to be a run with the bulls. As soon as I heard this, I started jumping up and down because I couldn’t control my excitement. Not sure how a bull run is done in Costa Rica, but I grabbed a red bandanna (just in case it’s similar to Spain) and threw on my best running flip flops (I don’t believe in shoes) and headed out. Some how, I managed to convince a pretty substantial group to join me…but I have a feeling they were going more or less to watch me make a fool of myself.

So we arrived at the main event, and looks like the rumor of the run was just a rumor. I was heart broken. I had my hopes of running with the bulls and slapping one in the face, but I realize that in order to accomplish this, I will just have to journey over to Spain in the near future. Instead of the run, they did offer bull riding. Couple of us bought our tickets and ventured in.

Now, I’m from Texas, the one state that should be it’s own country. I used to have no Texas pride at all, but since I started traveling, that has changed completely. Texas, in short, is awesome….especially when it comes to pissed off bulls. After much observation, I realized that Ticos (Costa Ricans) don’t know how to piss off bulls such as Texans do. The bull riding was enjoyable, yet it got old very quickly. I was tempted to jump out in the ring and show them how we do it in Texas (even though I have no experience), but my friends wouldn’t let me. Yes, you can thank those guys for not allowing me to be ran over by a bull.

We decided to head off after a few hours, and of course, it was pouring. We had a good little walk, so we bagged up our cameras and took off. I tried getting them to sing “I’m Singing in the Rain,” but no one cared to follow. When we finally made it back, we took some time to unwind and then headed to our hammocks to call it a night.

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