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About San Jose

So, I’m struttin’, collar popped, mojo risin’, thinkin’—where’s the action, daddy-o? Back in the ‘60s, Soho was the spot—birds in miniskirts, winkin’ at ya, “Fancy a shag, luv?” Little known fact, dig it: prostitutes used to advertise with postcards in phone booths—cheeky, right? None of that Tinder rubbish, just pure, old-school hustle. Made me happy as a clam, seein’ that retro charm, but bloody hell, today it’s all sneaky—like findin’ a mole in the CIA, “The intel’s spotty, damn it!”

Discover Matador

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I often catch glimpses of the river, Rio Lento. It cuts through the town, slow, reflective – kinda like my thoughts after a long massage session. I sit at the rickety bench at Parque del Suspiro, nodding at couples and lost artists. Quiet, like that movie’s vibe – "I was never the one to follow the rules." Seriously mind-blowing.

The Critical Situation of Costa Rica's Manuel Antonio National Park :