A Jump into Costa Rica

Coffee and fried chicken. Each smell reaked into the myraid of other oders in Heredia--diesel, bread, cigarettes. I expected Costa Rica to be different from Boston in climate, people, food, I could go on and on, but what differed the most was how everything smelled. On my walk to school, began to associate each landmark with a different smell. Take a left at the bakery when you smell warm bread, walk down the street past the oily fumes of the gas station, switch sides of the street at the pizzaria so you don't annoy the people in the line for the bus...Everywhere I went I began to associate with the smell. In the market, the sickly sweet smell of tropical fruits runs into the wet smell of Turibulla cheese and cement from the workers repairing the floor. The smell of fresh fish wanders into smell of fried plantains making it slightly revolting yet mouth-wateringly appetizing in a wierd way. Even the bank had a smell (money and cleaning spreay from the janitor who went around wiping sweat off the plastic seats from the people waiting for a teller). Every smell was magnified by the warm air and the constant wind sweeping through the streets blowing ash and oder around like confetti in a tornado. One could smell sizzling meat from a local soda (like a tiny restaurant) down at the train tracks where oil and smoke went hand in hand. I know this isn't your typical review of a language program but in all honesty, I had a great time. I will remember the smells and sights for the rest of my life. I encourage you, go book a ticket. Just go. You won't regret this.