Connecting with our true inner backpacker.

After a lovely weekend spent in the city of San Jose eating sushi, cooking our own meals, visiting an abandoned hospital and watching Pirates of the Caribbean in Spanish 3D Katie and I parted ways with a sad  goodbye as I went to meet up with Michael who had been spending his weekend in bliss at Jaco hitting up the waves and beach. On Tuesday I and Michael met up at Papas and Burgers the hostel where Michael had been spending the weekend with a wild bunch. (apologizes for the confusing pronouns...I was never good at English. Thanks mom and dad). I went on a majestic horseback ride up a mountain while Mike hung out with his new greatest American friends, Carl and Alex. We cooked dinner at the hostel and it was decided since I was a woman I had complete kitchen duties although Michael often butted in since he was eager to improve his cooking skills after his rag burning experience. The meal consisted of pasta with alfredo sauce, potatoes, and bread. Chopped has really advanced my cooking skills to where they need to be to try out for the show. We have also realized the enjoyment of cooking in hostels and the money saved. The night consisted of showing Jaco what Americans are truly like...really loud and creative when the lights go out. We picked up Mustafa the doctor on our travels to join our now duo. We traveled to Montezuma in the morning by speed boat on what we thought would be calm waters...we should have invested in butt cushions and been giving a warning that this ride may potentially throw us out of the boat as we were consistently pounded by waves...we determined the butt breaking ride was totally worth it though when we watched thousands of dolphins swim by. We made it to Montezuma in one piece and had lunch before venturing towards the waterfalls there! I stopped to buy some jewelry and was looked at in worry as I told the woman we were headed to the waterfalls with our full backpacks. We were also misinformed about the waterfalls as a woman told us it was a fifteen minute hike towards the waterfalls. We embarked on this adventure with pure stupidity and general joy at the thought of beautiful Costa Rican waterfalls. Our directions were walk up the hill around the bend and through the grey gate, when the path ends follow the smaller path and you will get to the waterfall. After we had hiked up the four steep inclines passed a few grey fences we saw three people emerging from a closed grey fence in nothing but bikinis and flip flops...giving us hope that we were first headed in the right direction and second that this was an easy path. little did we know that when we reached the end of the big path that the smaller path was all downhill after we had just climbed all the way up the hill. the one foot wide path was obscure and covered in vines. Mustafa was convinced the whole way down that this path was not the way...but we pushed on getting closer to the sound of water. We reached a wide stream of water laden with rocks with water fall insight and saw many people on a more convenient path that actually led you to the waterfall that happened to be on the other side of the stream. Mustafa and I accepted the risk of getting our shoes wet so that we could make it to this natural beauty. Mike, however, took the hard way scaling the wall of rock refusing to sacrafice his shoes to the water depths. He did so only to find that he still needed to walk across the water to place his bags down on the dry land. Mike started strong connecting early with his inner backpacker. After frolicing in the pool below the waterfall we floated on our backs in awe looking up at the everflowing shower of water from up above. The boys climbed halfway up to show off some impressive jumps in the pool. After a while it was time to head up to waterfalls 2 and 3 where we heard it was the best place to jump in. This required us to gear up get mobile and head towards a cliff looking piece of land covered with tree roots yellow spray painted arrows and pink ribbons to guide the way up this verticle path. I led the way determined that this was the worst it could get and not allowing the weight of 20lbs to hold me back while Mustafa and Michael worked their way up with more significant weight i would learn later on as I braced the rocks trying to pull their backpacks out of the water...we will get to that part later. After the endless climb we made it to the top where the path was lined with even more gloriousy pink ribbons and about a foot of path that was literally a cliff over the rainforest and waterfall. We reached the end of the pink ribbons to find a blue rope and (can you guess it) an even steeper climb down to the 2nd and 3rd waterfall. It was time for us to truly dig deep within ourselves and find that survival mindset within us. We reached the bottom to find a large pool of water with rocks and a ropeswing to jump off of. We indulged ourselves for the next couple of hours with the pure joy of 8 year olds. The trecherous climb and hike with backpacks had all been worth it for those couple of hours under the sun sitting by the Montezuma waterfalls with the constant sound of falling water and screams of joy resinating in our ears. When the sun began to sink then came the dreaded thoughts of how to return. Lucky enough for us we saw an alternate path at the top of the rocks where a ziplining group had come out of and left out of. We decided it was worth the risk...the risk of swimming our bags over across the pool of water with only a tattered trashbag to try to prevent water from soaking all of our belongings. Mustafa took the initiative by putting his bag in first as mike swam it over to me on the other side. As a I braced myself against the rocks with my feet Mike handed me the bag and with the strength of a lion I pulled it out and carried it to the top. Just kidding...at this moment I was deemed utterly useless in the voyage of our luggage since I could not lift the bag up. One by one the bags made it across and up refraining from detrimental soakage but getting a little moist on the outside. Last but not least my pride and joy was carried across the river over mikes head as he struggled heroicly while the bag slipped and tossed in his one hand. I sat terrified across the pool with the look that a mother would have if her child was being brought over a ricketty bridge that was suspended above lava. My camera made it to me safetly after I snapped out of shock and helped grab it from the exhausted Mike. We geared up once more and up the alternate path we went choosing the left side. We climber for about 5 minutes which led us to a locked gate of a yoga retreat. We were kindly let in by a woman who was quite shocked to see our packs and it was determined that only because I (a girl) was traveling with Mike and Mustafa were we let through and out towards the road. The road which only about a hundred feet down had the same grey fence that we had ventured through earlier. We now consider ourselves true backpackers.

What you can find in recycled coke bottles.

Adventure time. Brooke and Mike set off with the Irish couple early in the morning to due a tour of the Bocas Islands which Brooke had been dying to do everysince our incident with Ariel. We went to dolphin cove where we viewed wild dolphins in their natural habitat. If you are a huge fan of wild dolphins I suggest watching The Cove a great dolphin activist documentary which has been recently viewed on caroline gorees netflix (rating 5 stars). Next we were off to see estrellas del mar which was a little less exciting after dolphins. We then went snorkling!! Mike vividly swam around in search of flower looking sea life which quickly retracted whenever you went to touch it...pretty positive avatar wildlife was featured after these. Brooke on the other hand was completely enticed by sea cucumbers which she has learned about in 6th grade seacamp. They are quite squishy, wrinkly, and brown...roberto might describe them as an old mans penis. During snorkling Brookes underwater camera also broke...due to getting wet. We ate a wondeful lunch while our irish friend realized she had a little friend in the bottom of her coke bottle. Inside her delicous tasting refrescro was a small mushroom making its debut. Luckily she had only taken a sip and thankfully it wasnt out of a straw. Moral of the story, look at recycled coke bottles before drinking out of them. We spent the rest of the day at a beautiful beach while mike went adventuring and Brooke met the infamous Dan who is part of the Coast Gaurd but a weed dealer when he is home. He has been held at gunpoint and almost been beaten due to his drug deals. He also dislikes the Coast Gaurd guys because they are not his type of people. Have no fear Dan I am sure you are not their type of people either. It takes someone very special and unique to be your type of person. Back on our Island after eating some sushi and cinamon banana ice cream Katie and I asked our waitress where she got her sweet hair wrap done. Although we were not prepared to join the free love bus we did make a hipster move and proceeded to get something put in our hair. We are now both stylishly rocking a hair wrap made out of hemp and seashells.
Mochileros

Horses like to ride Mike.

Since our set up of a tour for the morning had miserably failed we tried our hand at finding horseback riding at the last minute. Mike and Katie succeeded in behind the scenes dealing to find us Javier the columbian who owned horses on the side! He picked us up in his green car and although it seemed sketchy we decided our money and business here was probably more valuable to him than our lives. After and hour of waiting in traffic and actually having great conversation it was decided that we would break bread with our new friend before the ride. We sat laughing and even felt comfortable enough to exchange jokes in spanish. Brooke stated that she had a food baby while he quickly responded that he had twins. When we eventually made it to the horsefarm we trecked through mud in order to lay eyes upon a 2 day old babay horse. While the moment was magestical we were ready to ride. We had changed identities from the three mochileros to the three horsemen plus a bonus member, the fifteen yearold horsekeeper named chino. Anticipating a fast a furious ride our horses only took a mild pace especially Mikes horse, Hercules, who took a lesierly pace and stopped often forcing Chino to get his hands dirty with rounding him up. After an hour or two or riding it was time to convince Chino to let us swim with the horses. Upon entering the water Chinos horse took it upon himself to drop a few kids of at the pool and Mikes horse decided he had had enough. When mikes was deep enough in it proceeded to roll over ontop of Mike giving itself a chance to get a free ride. It repeated itself on the way out hoping that the rider and ridee would once again switch roles.
Later that night it was decided that we would take a boat over to the Aqua lounge! For ladies night. This bar was unlike anyother. Either out of pure stupidness or pure genious a giant hole was in the middle of this club that opened up over the ocean allowing drunk people to swim, there were also swings for jumping off into the water. The night proceeded like this. Michael talked with the Irish and became a social lite of the party scene, Brooke and Katie hit the dance floor and gave ¨THE FACE¨to anyone who approched that was a tad to forward. We then found our Israeli friends from puerto viejo and a few more of their Israeli friends (If you are looking to meet Israelis in their twenties I adivce you to not go to Israel but rather central and south america where they all travel in large packs after their service in the army). After a few too many strenuous moves it was time for Brooke to swim. While Katie rocked the dance floor and Mike found a group of hard core british dancers who play games, Brooke one of the Israelis and a rather rambunxous crowd took a dip in the ocean. Upon exciting the water it was noticed that the Isralis pants had been mysteriously lifted from their hiding place in a bush...He proceeded the rest of the night in his wet boxer briefs. After a cool of it was back to the dance floor for Brooke where she proceeded to rip her dress with dance moves that are apparently too intense for any type of clothing. She can now officially say RIP to two pairs of pants, shorts, and a dress. The morning after while debating on keeping the dress or not she went in for the smell check and is now coming out with a new perfume line.
Eau De Traveler.
The scent featured contains the smell of Israeli men, smoke, salt water, and mildew. COMING TO STORES SOON. $49.95

Uninterested soul becomes interested after life lessons with Brooke

We started off our morning adventure early towards panama on a shuttle. Brooke found new photography subjects on the shuttle which consisted of the most beautiful family ever. Somehow these two people were the perfect combination to make the most beautiful children the world has ever laid eyes on. The obsession continued on the shuttle, over a sketchy bridge, through customs, through another customs? onto another shuttle and finally ended after the boat ride. For future reference, if a customs officer hits on you just put up with it until your through it will make the whole process much easier. After a day of relaxing in our cheap 3 bed private room which was shown to us by the most chilax hastler, Ariel, Michael and Brooke went on a search for Ariel to book a tour of the Islands in the morning. On their search they went to every single tour place asking for Ariel which did nothing until they talked to a shop owner who knew he was down the street. We waited for him with his friends while he made his way from another island to meet up with the gringos who were requesting him. As he pulled up Michael and I were quite confused, apparently there are two Ariels in panama and this was not the original. The awkwardness endured after he got off the boat not recognizing us either was quite painful as we tried to strike up conversation and ask about tours although he clearly was not in charge of them. We then decided not to book a tour. The night then began with hitting up Mondu Titu a local hostel that was celebrating 80's night and we were all about it. Walking in, it was quite scarce but we sat down at a table of fun loving people which included, Luke the funnest human being (apparently if you want to meet awesome people you must go to California), an Irish couple who have tried cows utter and testicles, and Jaque the short shorts wearing man. The night consisted of cards, power hour, a lot of yelling, table dancing, and rocking 80's music which are by far the best party starters and party jamming music ever. Although almost everyone at the table seemed to be offended that we were not alive in the 80's. Yay youngins.
Mochileros

Stop laughing me out (dutch accent included)

Warning. This blog might include a few inside jokes, just laugh along like you know what they're about and all will be good in the world.
New arrivals for the night at Rocking J's meant new buddies to go explore the town with! We quickly met and joined along with a pack of dutch boys. We sat playing cards and conversing with the broken English...well mainly Katie conversed and Michael and Brooke went head to head in intense card games such as War, Egyptian rat screw, and Speed on a pack of cards with a lovely Las Vegas sign that informed you it was Katie and Paiges Las Vegas (Debutante party). Brooke defeated Michael in all of the above games and he decided to stay behind after a gruesome defeat. So off Katie and Brooke went with the dutch as Michael was left behind with a look on his face that resembled that of a child who dropped his stacked ice cream cone on the ground during a Florida summer day. Previous to this Michael tried his hand at cooking Ramen noodles for the first time needing much advice on how to boil water and place it in a cup...during his attempt he set a rag on fire. Goodluck with no meal plan next year Mike. Off to mango it was for another night of lively dancing, but once we arrived we realized the previous nights DJ had been swapped out for an older version who insisted that slow rap was the way to excite everyone. So we hit up the bar where Brooke used her intense bargaining skills to convince the bar tender that tonight was free shots for all the beautiful ladies. Free shots followed shortly.
Among the fellow bar-goers were the four rocking J's dutch boys, danish albino boy, and the previous night's dutch crowed. It was concluded that all over puerto viejo was a "holland party." Holland parties tend to include lots of beers and requests for back massages from american girls. However, when providing back massages for a Holland party, one must be aware that that does not make you included in the party or give you the right to ask them to speak english instead of dutch. oh well. As soon as the DJ at mango noticed that his euro crowd was not in fact feeling the booty grinding ambience he was creating with the slow, vulgar tunes, he switched it up and Brooke and Katie hit up the dance floor for the rest of the night until they walked back with the large group of Dutch boys. A broken flip flop, a conversation that included "your hair smells good what do you use?" "shampoo" "I have not used for three weeks.", confessions of needing more wine and 2 arranged marriages with the plan for 14 kids, and katie screaming vulgar spanish to a creep who just wanted to be our friend and offer us marijuana, later we finally made it back to the hammocks for the last night of broken back sleeping.
Mochileros

Sneaky sneaky Elephants

After a public bus ride for four hours of Michael trying to cram himself in small bus seats, Brooke taking her dose of dramamine trying not to puke and attempting to sleep on the rattling Costa Rican roads, and Katie reading her books, we finally made it to Puerto Viejo. We took our most strenuous hike of the backpacking trip so far for about a quarter of a mile till we made it to our destination, Rocking J's the mural covered restaurant, hostel, beach, camp site, and hammock shack where we have reserved hammocks for 4 dollars for the next four nights.We were running low on cash so we hit up the closest ATM and then off to eat some good ol BBQ at Rocking J's which was quite fabulous. Katie and I also shared a pitcher of sangria (priority 1 minus the fondue) while giving mike 25 seconds to throw back his beers. A game of pool and the pitcher gone led Katie and I to our hammocks in which we remained until the morning while Mike hit up the social scene of rocking J's. The morning consisted of a light breakfast for all of us. Katie enjoyed a croissant and coffee, Mike had the Hungry Traveler, and I indulged in the fruity bastard. We then headed straight for the beach for a day of relaxing, swimming, meeting funny Israelis, playing their Israeli beach games, and burying myself in the sand.We then helped ourselves to a delicious lunch at Rocking J's and graciously welcomed the new arrivals which included some of the most interesting people we have ever met. These included -
The Brits that didn't give a shit
The hot Israeli sillypants's
Tim and his free love bus of ambiguous accents and buttcheeks that travels the world streaking and promoting the essence of a true hippie
Token German
The emotionally disturbed gay lord of the rings loving boy from the suicidally prone land of alaska
And his boyfriend Guy, who is our favorite Rockin J's employee
The insect enthusiast who creates stability in his life with the predictability of ant colonies and avoids both malaria and foreignsex-induced AIDS regularly
Hannah and the other pissed off group of knife weilding melon munching weirdos
The day mainly included the beach with the Israeli's who just ended their service in the army and have decided this is their only time to travel and talk to girls with their hilarious accents and sayings. They stated while talking about their surfing that, "the cows were crashing down on them". The night concluded of a restored bonfire by Michael, a lot of meeting/ blogging/ and discussing random topics with the list of people above. Katie and I then decided to go on a little exploration of the town night life and hit up a local bar that had some wonderful live bluegrass music. We enjoyed mechiladas ( a beautiful mix of lime juice, imperial, and salt) while dancing to the great tunes. That is until the music took a turn for the worse and went from sweet serenading to a white rapper hitting up the dj booth. Off we went to the next local stop called mango where we met some very uninterested ambiguous wee dutch boys on our way and decided to hit up the dance floor immediately. While busting out some fabulous moves we were approached by a few intoxicated ticos, one whom later dropped his beer on the ground breaking glass everywhere and proceeded to get kicked out about...4 times. Quite a winner he was. We then were approached by a hysterical Canadian man whose introducing line was HOLA to two blonde girls. We informed him that English would be the common language shared between us. After a good convo it was decided that back to the Hostel we would go. This would require some body gaurds due to the fighting strange tico's so we grabbed a local Costa Rican and another Dutch who were staying close by. We had exciting conversation with the both in spanish(FINALLY!) and Katie got language lessons in Spanish from the dutch boy and Portugese from the worldly traveling Costa Rican who still needs to work on his English. A broken key later due to Brookes immense strength we made it into Rocking J's only to hear the bonfire being broken up to a gunshot from the owner who saw robbers sitting around the fire. Michael was not phased whatsover by the firing of the gun due to his American upbringing nor were Katie and I. However, the others had to reconvene inside and discuss their feelings. Michael Katie and I returned to our hammocks to sing beautiful American anthems such as "Jizz in my pants". The next morning started out like any other a wake up due to light, a ditched 8:30 yoga class, some hostel breakfast which Tim and crew helped themselves to once we had finished, and hitting up the beach (this time using the greatest decision ever: to rent bikes). Through our times at rocking j's we have decided we are not people of the free love hippie smoking culture and would prefer to have purpose to our lives. So tomorrow we are off to Bocas del Toro, panama by bus and boat to stay on one of the islands where we will invest our dabloons in Horseback riding, surfing, and snorkling.
Mochileros

Cinco de Cico

Friday- The day started off as a typical day. We woke up at 6:30 as usual due to the lack of window shades in the hostel. After a morning of exploration, we hit up the cafe del mundo, not to be confused with cafe du monde. mike had been quite anxious to experience the abmbience, which we believe was the reason for the excessive service charge. however, for three tyes of bread, real napkins, and  a wall of bamboo, ten percent more was nothing. The bread was by far the best in costa rica with some great olive oil that had a lttle kick from the peppers.If you were curious our trip strictly revolves around food and finding people in Costa Rica that actually want to speak spanish with us considering there are many gringos and English speaking ticos. After lunch Katie and I decided to try our hand at intense yoga/pilates/ballet/dance due to Katies previous encounters with yoga masters. As if the leg/glut/hump/abs exercises werent already intense enough for us the tectonic plates decided to hit us with a 6.2 earthquake admists the 400 reps of legs and thrusts. Although we only thought it was a karate class upstairs making the building shake with their awesome jumping side kicks and hiyaas we made it out just fine mentally and physically....until the next day when the downtown yoga workout hit a level of unbearable soreness.  In order to properly understand the epicness of the yoga experience, the proper set up is necessary. Sitting in the Hostel del Parque, an intense lightning store poured onto the excessive quantities of windows, the same ones that let the light in at 5 am. Naturally, the only option for what to do was to read the map, looking for somewhere to go once the rain ended. The number for downtown yoga was listed accompanied by a peaceful picture. So Brooke and I (not mike) slipped and slid down four blocks of lightning pelted road in search of any building willing to identify itself as a yoga studio. On the way, we happened to notice a pavillion full of people who seemed to be there just to make me feel at home. Why, you ask? They were juggling! The People of the World (tulane kids, you get this) evidently have a not-as-benevolent San Jose chapter of our wonderful Juggling Club, where the unusually pierced, dreadlocked, tattooed, hair dyed, skinny jeans'd weirdos meet to spanishly juggle and ride unicycles. A few introductions were made and I made sure to inform them of their Tulane counterparts before somewhat-failing to juggle with them. The told us about their evening demonstration and we were off to the yoga studio, first really weird occurence completed. The second was the mat-filled room of beautiful, yoga-ripped hispanic women all being really talented inthe back of the studio. the front was reserved for Brooke and myself, so the Beautiful Women were given not only a multifaceted workout class but also the entertainment of watching us suffer. Cuatro cientos de piernas, cuatro cientos de abdomenales! With all instructions in spanish, we stretched and crunched and prepared for our new lives as flexible hippievan-riders. For about five minutes before literally falling down (not from the earthquake I might add). After the yoga lesson, disheartened by the fact that we had to hold on to the handrail to descend the three flights of stairs but inspired to be both bendy and spanish speaking, we returned to the pavillion to locate some temporary spanish novios with with to converse. Jorge and Kevin stepped up to the plate, regaling us with stories of their forest studies before we noticed that we had left mike in the dust to eat three pizzas and be stared at by the strangely high number of transvesite prostitutes in the park. So back to the hostel it was where we encountered the frightened version of michael and awaited Roberto's call to check out the night life of San Jose (not the park night life although michael seemed to enjoy himself there). The call came around 10 pm as we were all taking "catnaps" again. This time however i  (brooke again) refused to succumb to the temptation of sleep and live it up in the town. Katie had to be slightly beaten and dragged out the door but we eventually made into Robertos third car for some country club drinks before hitting up Nena. (Now it's katie again) Like any good Renaissance Man, Roberto is a multi-talented, perfectly rounded individual and provides a Friday night as such. We went from sweater-draped soldiers and classy cocteles to the depths of the Spanish salsa-club scene. After learning about the wonders of the limy salty spanish version of what boring life calls beer, Brooke and I left Mike for some man lessons with Roberto The Wonderful God of Classyness and went searching for more novios to teach us to salsa dance. Novios are the best means of learning new things that aren't yoga, and we were provided with salsa and limy-heaven beers to the tunes of the Greats of noventa dos punto cinco, maxima fm like Aventura. I personally found myself a tico named Byron and was provided witha personal cuatro hour spanish lesson. The next time I saw Brooke she had successfully managed to gain the attention of every tico in the room by showing off her American girl moves on the tables, per her usual style (according to Euro stories). NOTE: these are not the moves that the classy bobby deigned favorable, although every other rican man was completely, as brooke would say, in "agreeance" with her performance. jajajajaja. I had a lovely rest of the evening with Byron and discovered just how sketchy San Jose is outside of the world of Roberto's lovely country club when Byron gave me about a five foot radius of not-getting-murdered walking space outside of the classy Rock Latino, where might I add I sang along to Ashlee Simpson's song "LaLa" for the first time since the seventh grade.

Lets really get this trip started.

Buenos Dias Todos! Lets start this day off with a lovely cold shower with the supposed hostel water heater!
We gave ourselves a nice exploring tour of San Jose around our hostel and then were beckoned by a tico to a nice breakfast spot where we were served our beans and rice with a smile. Beans and Rice for 20 days shall be fabulous. Roberto picked us up at 10 for a day at Jaco! For all of you who don't know how to pronounce spanish words it is pronounced "haco" not "jack-o". However, the latter is much more preferable with the 3 mochileros. Michael Roberto and I decided there was no better way to start the trip off than to get shot off at 60mph in a harness with bungee cords. Shortly following Michael and I willing dove toward a 12 foot deep pool from around 55 feet up off the most unsturdy looking platform there could be. After our blood was pumping from bungee jumping our hunger set in and Roberto led the way to Jaco's famous fish tacos. You choose what type of meat you would like and head over to the salad bar where you load that puppy up. Roberto chose camarones, Brooke chose Mahi, Katie chose salmon, and Michael chose beef. After 20 minutes for digestion it was time to hit up the waves with a longboard. Michael got on those waves like a pro and Katie and I tried our hand at surfing for the first time with Roberto as our instructor. We both successfully got up on our first trys! We both also successfully ate it for the next few attempts. Overall we were all bitten by the surfing bug and now that becoming a pro surfer has made it to the list of all of our life dreams we plan to surf as much as we can here. Back in San Jose Roberto threw us a BBQ and we met all of his fun friends whose nicknames include huevo and negro. The food was so good thanks to la receta de Roberto.
In summary, Roberto is the greatest human being alive, Costa Rica is amazing, life is good, and there is a creepy old man in our hostel who precedes every morning to wake up at 5:30 sit in his bed and stare in our general direction.
Mochileros.

May 11th...The arrival

The morning began to being woken up by the cite Pieter's buttcrack at 5 am. So many memories from hostel mornings last summer in Europe were brought to mind. 5:30 am los tres mochileros are off to the airport! Participants embarking on this adventure include Miguel Depree, Miss Katie Field, and myself Brooke Bradford Cornetet. The airport process consists of: check in, check bags, burger king buscuits, lots of music, smelly seatmates, and the arrival to Costa Rica. Clap Clap. We arrive at 11 in the morning Tico time and are welcomed by Roberto's smiling face and then we headed towards our hostel to check in. The hostel basically consists of an upstairs full of beds. Then we were off to the bank to get some monies because otherwise we will be similar to how the men of Spain pronounce my name, "Broke...like no money". We enjoyed a nice meal at Roberto's house with his two brothers and then enjoyed a nice drink in the students part of town at 2 in the afternoon. Needless to say it was raging with teens. It was also quite nice to have your real ID work to get into  a bar. We returned to the hostel for a quick cat nap, which we did not wake up from until 6 am the next morning.