Costa Rican Holiday

Here I am- a 26 year old man in a bar in Cahuita, Costa Rica. I don´t know what the holiday is, but all the locals are running around like they just won their independence. I´m just sitting at the bar, talking to my only friend in the world, Tomas, the bartender. I ask for another Imperial and he languidly pulls a bottle out of the fridge and pops the top off with impeccable finesse and ease. An ease that simply screams ¨Bar Tender for Life.¨ I love it here. I can´t speak spanish, but to hell with it- despite the language barrier, I sense no difference in human interaction these days. Nobody says nothin´to nobody anymore. I tell Tomas I´m here to get away from no life at home. He smiles and nods his head like he understands or something. I know he does. His slicked back hair and his toothy grin know everything I could ever say. I smile on, and know that I am home. Home in Central America. Where the cahuita con leche pours in a constant flow only rivaled by the Nile River. Where the locals know not your name and may not even have noticed your skin color, but still greet you with an arm over your shoulder before they say one word. A place where they have a nice, cool Pilsen at the ready for a man in need. A place for someone like me. Home in Central America. During a Costa Rican Holiday.