I heard Jaco was unsafe, dangerous, and a non-stop party; translation: my kind of place.Although, I seek all the beautiful enlightened things in life; it’s when I am scared shit-less that I feel most alive.Some people find character on Mountain tops and Ocean floors, others in the dark recesses of the night; very few find it in both.To quote Andre Gide “Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore”
The moment I got off the Tico bus, I looked up and saw a huge 420 sign; I guess you can find omens anywhere you look.For the first time in Costa Rica, I actually had a reservation; one laundry room stay was enough for my trip.The main strip was more commercialized then I expected, it had everything you need to feel close to North America, from KFC to Pizza hut, the choices were endless.Referencing my Lonely Planet guide, I booked a room at La Cometa, primarily because the description said it was located in the heart of the city and was one of the original hostels in Jaco; in addition it was owned by a friendly French Canadian.
My first night out never ended, I met crazy Louis at the Jungle room, he asked me what I did, “Internet stuff mostly”, and you I replied, “I am the black sheep of the family, I consider myself an entrepreneur of sorts”.Louis had an entourage of party fiends that followed him around like the second coming; he was a great local tour guide and host who made sure everyone found their vibe.From place to place we roamed like kings of the city; no cover, no hassles, no worries.He was jovial and intense at the same time; we shared some common themes when it came to living the Pura Vida life.I pulled the chute when the sun came up, but made plans for another adventure tomorrow.My first night in Jaco was everything I thought it would be: shady, dangerous, and loads of fun.
