The “white villages” are quaint little townships full of red tiled roofs, elegant churches and friendly folk. Lining the cobblestone streets, where horses clip-clop along, there are numerous stalls.
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The rules of street baseball in the Granada neighborhood of La Otra Banda are pretty cut-and-dry: the street is fair territory, and everything else is foul.
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The lavish production of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly promises to consolidate Costa Rica’s reputation as a cultural hub of international caliber.
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“¡Mami, tantas curvas y yo sin frenos!” (“Hey Baby, look at all those curves, and I’ve got no brakes!”) I hear as I relax on a park bench drinking my coconut and observing the dynamic street life around me.
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San José’s glittering ambiente nocturno begins not at the Teatro, but six blocks to the south in Barrio de la Soledad near Paseo de los Estudiantes, a stone’s throw from the National Museum.
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