Update: San Jose

Street Mural in downtown San Jose

“Less talk, more action”, bold letters read across a young Tico’s shirt I pass by. Regardless if he knows what it says (It’s in English), the slogan fits San Jose. A hustling and bustling city if I have ever been to one. The downtown area is as crowded as The Big Apple yet as active as a farmers market. People selling, yelling and getting all riled up. Guitarists and street artist call for your attention as you step over piles of burned DVD’s and kids toys.

It’s 9am and I have been on a bus for a little more than 5 hours. The contrast between Guanacaste and this new beast is overwhelming. All my senses are on overload; cab drivers yelling at me, sweet smells mix with city grum and I am surrounded by cement and a wash of bright colors from the tiny shops. No inch of this place is without a business; souvenirs, knick nacks, and bakeries seem to be the most common forms I see.  It’s very likely that my first few minutes in Jan Jose were spent with my jaw hanging trying to grasp the jungle I had entered.

The next thing I realized were the street signs, or lack thereof. My hostel was across the city, and although I knew the general direction and had the street it was on, it was to no avail. I saw two or three signs on the sides of buildings but that was it. As I wandered this strange new place, I ran across a fruit market. Just on a side street next to an abandoned railroad station, this was the image I had of a street market in Costa Rica. Block followed by block there were literally hundreds of vendors selling the ordinary array of fruits to those selling things I couldn’t even imagine how to eat. There was a sweet smell in the air swirling the juices, herbs and vegetables that were on either side of me. After asking for directions and finding them less helpful than wandering, I grabbed a taxi and thought, ‘maybe there is more to this high pace city than my initial reaction’. My hostel was not too far from downtown but far enough that I would be able to sleep without horns and airbrakes blasting the windows.

As I got myself settled I got in a conversation with the owner of the hostel; an American who had a weeklong trip planned in Costa Rica that turned into a two year adventure that sees no end. But his view of happiness here is sharp and to the point. “Bullshit” was his immediate response when I mentioned Tico’s being the happiest people on earth. He believed they are too wrapped up in their imagine, animosity towards Americans, and falling government. I couldn’t help but think this was more of the atmosphere in the city. This made me realize happiness here does not come in one form, one size or one shape. From this point on I turned my senses to see what differences I could feel, hear and see from my travels.

The next few days I walked over a dozen miles around the city, visiting all types of markets, museum’s and restaurants. I talked with waitresses, clerks and travelers. I observed the behavior of the locals and the businessmen showing their pinstripe suits. I heard the screams of joy from the young Tico’s running after pigeons in the plaza de cultura and smelled the spices in the mercado central. What does this city signify for Costa Rica? It stretches out and holds nearly a third of the country’s population and thus many resources that cannot be found other places. Do you need a cell phone fixed? A part for your bike, or air conditioner? How about a new movie release you want to catch in theaters? San Jose offers these things that many Americans can find within 10 or 15 minutes of driving. Their “mega supermarkets” are no bigger than Albertsons and only a fraction of Costco or Walmart that can be found even in small towns in the US.

This is the place to be if you want to be “somebody”.  It was obvious the people here held a different attitude about style and image. I could count the number of people (aside from myself) that wore shorts and a t-shirt and although I did not see any Guicci or Dolce and Cabana, many stores were trying to replicate high style. A more cosmopolitan atmosphere than I was expecting, I stuck out even more by wearing casual clothes.
Furthermore, it seemed people here needed to be somewhere. Not only a location they were traveling to but in the position of power that viewed themselves. I could feel their energy filled with pursuit and desire. Men and women alike walked with an air that sought something more, as if they were reaching to take another step past those around them. But still I could see the older generation holding onto a different work ethic; do what you can, socialize and relax.

So in San Jose I saw a great mixing. In a culture known for a laxed attitude there is a vast number climbing the ladder for success. Image conscious young strut their stuff on the streets and in the clubs as if they were fashionista’s in LA. Still some have not changed, as the older population hangs onto more of a small town vibe. As more and more Tico’s move towards the San Jose area this trend may grow and turn San Jose into even more of a metropolitan.

But happiness must be found here right? Yes, but it has many more sublevels than in Guanacaste. Juan, a Tico about my age told me depending on what you are looking for you can find a social group in San Jose. Be it the businessmen or the hipsters, a way to connect with likeminded have more roots showing here than other parts of the country. Yet the simplicity that the country is known for has been drowned out by the churning of a growing city, in the thralls of an urbanizing country.