Persian Rugs in Costa Rica

It’s at least a beautiful morning. The light is all pink and gold and makes me ready for the day. I will just have to love this trip based on how gorgeous everything is, and how insane the activities are. Because I can basically tell I am not going to make a lot of close friends.
Not that I really care- these kids are all way younger than me and none of them like Harry Potter or anything good.
“Have you every listened to Ben Folds?”
“No... wait. Is he like, that guy from Death Cab for Cutie?”
Triple no. That’s Ben Gibbard, idiot.
“No, but Ben Gibbard is pretty cool, sometimes.” And with that I sort of turn away from her in that way that signals that our conversation is ending. Not that there’s really anything wrong with her, but I haven’t explored all my possibilities yet and I’m sure there are more interesting people to talk to than Jessica from Boston.
We’ve been waiting for our bus to arrive for half an hour, and we’re all perched tentatively on our luggage because there is no place to sit. The hostel, by the way, is beautiful, with gorgeous Spanish tiles and a strangely wonderful hexagon motif. Gorgeous Persian rugs are in the lobby, and each room has its own beautiful antique rug. And this intricately ornate, yet completely appropriate fountain in the front. I love Spanish-speaking people, I really do.
I do not, however, like how everything in Costa Rica ( at least San Jose) seems to run at least half and hour behind. They call it “Tico Time” all affectionately, but the sun is really bright at eight in the morning and I would SO rather still be in bed. We definitely woke up about two hours earlier than necessary.