We left our Airbnb around 8:00 a.m., grateful we could store our suitcases. Staying true to our travel tradition, we quickly found a bakery and bought two cheese pastries—tasty, though mine was a bit heavy, and I only finished about two-thirds.
We stepped inside the beautiful Alajuela Cathedral, where a woman led a call-and-response prayer while workmen hammered away on scaffolding above—an ironic soundtrack to the devotion below.
At the Juan Santamaría Cultural Historical Museum, once 19th-century military barracks and later a college, we explored well-done historical and art exhibits. In the courtyard, a group of seniors exercised together, likely from a local organization.
After popping into a discount shop for two forgotten essentials—a brush and toothbrush—we headed to lunch at La Meche, recommended both by our Airbnb host and a friendly woman we met on the street. We ordered from a small buffet of fresh, traditional dishes—fish for me, chicken stew for Scotty, plus tamarind and strawberry-banana juices. The restaurant was bustling with locals. The woman joined us briefly, shared that she splits time between Costa Rica and Palm Beach for affordable medical care, and then surprised us by paying for our meal. Such a sweet gesture—we’re really liking Costa Rica.
Our shuttle to La Fortuna was completely full, luggage stacked high in the back—but thankfully air-conditioned. The chaotic, crowded highway scenes—vendors weaving between cars, people waiting roadside for buses, homes pressed close to the pavement—reinforced that taking shuttles was the right choice. Costa Rica is undeniably beautiful, but we hadn’t expected to witness such visible poverty alongside it.
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