Guatemala and Nicaragua were outdone by Costa Rica in one aspect. In a tourist town, where nationals of the country holiday, easy access to amenities, likely low unemployment, regular wealthy visitors, everybody lives behind bars. Every single house had bars on the windows, bars on the doors, bars on the patio, bars on the porch. Some of them needed three different sets of bars to be passed through before you reached the inside.
In behind those bars everybody owned one or more dogs, but they were all small yappy ones. Tiny poodles, little terriers, anything canine and smaller than a cat. It’s a shame really, it’s too hot for dogs, they all just lay there looking exhausted even in the morning. Only one dog showed life all day, preparing to settle down for a sleep after drinking some water it noticed pigeons just three feet away, half jumped at them, had a sniff where they’d been pecking. They’d only gone another four feet so deja vu kicked in. I suspect they knew the dog could only manage 3-4 lunges before it fell asleep, flying away a waste of time and energy.
I’d say the houses averaged one dog, easily the median count, just one house with four of them. One of those had a jewel in the centre of its forehead, a colourful hairband around its ears. I was fascinated more that the other three did not; why just that one? The houses averaged a quarter of a pre-school infant too, but there were plenty more of those being carried around the town so the average may be higher.
The cats weren’t behind bars, didn’t seem to belong to houses, weren’t especially timid but also didn’t expect friendliness. They weren’t going to get it either, I don’t think sales of flea prevention treatments are very high here. Costa Rica does not have cuddly cats.
The ship was due to leave at 6pm but I went for dinner instead, reaching the dining room at around a quarter past. It was already dark outside so the departure wouldn’t have been terribly exciting anyway. The dining room wasn’t full (at dinner time) for the first time all trip, my flexibility in sitting with random company or by myself getting me a table straight away.
It may be the feedback from yesterday or just the lower workload but the waiter was prompt with a menu, with taking my order, with bringing me Thai beef on pickled papaya.
He was also quick to bring the Lamb Shank, which came on a bed of normal mashed potato rather than the advertised mashed sweet potato. That was my request, but didn’t delay the meal.
I was out again in half an hour, fully fed. It is to be fair quicker to eat alone, just me and my book apart from a 30 second ‘hi’ with the restaurant manager in which she thanked me for returning to the restaurant and told me to let her know if I ever had a two minute wait. Given that other passengers had been mentioning one hour waits for dinner she must’ve taken on more staff at one of the ports if she thinks two minutes is achievable.
Today’s film was Runner Runner. The onboard cinema is pretty naff, anybody on the front row gets tennis neck swivelling to view the screen and everybody else gets their view blocked by someone swivelling their head. I sat near an edge to try and avoid this but the seat is set to face straight ahead so I had to lean sideways against the backrest and put my legs in front of the lady next to me. Fortunately she was doing the same thing.
I popped up for the obligatory view from the aft deck before bed. It’s dark, you can’t see anything that isn’t on the ship. What was on the ship were two seabirds, both crouched down on the deck, thirty yards apart. The one near me looked miserable and groaned as I walked near it but didn’t try and move away.
I stepped back and watched it a moment. It left a deposit on the deck, stepped away from it, nearly fell over. A quick stretch of the wings, no damage visible, another low pitiful cry and it waddled uncertainly across the deck. A pause, another waddle, and it was by the edge of the deck, still 8 inches below the lip designed to stop things falling off the ship. It had a quick drink from the drainage channel there and sat looking at the raised edge, no attempt to climb it, just an occasional pitiful call.
Back inside I found the manager in charge of the Lido. “I’m sure you’re already aware but you have two sea birds on the aft deck that are either drunk or very very poorly. They can’t fly.”
He hurried off, obvious health implications for the ship if they’re ill, unmissable comedy gold if they’re drunk. I’m fairly sure they’re drunk. I left them to it.
