Heredia is a little city within the urban mass of San Jose that has a couple universities, a bar district, and not much else to mention. I am coming to like this little city. This is my second time here.
Heredia has a small town feel within the broader urban monster of Costa Rica’s capital city. Cars rip by day and night, buses screech to halts, and the sidewalks are treacherous mazes of sinkholes and other perilous boobey traps. Fire dancers wheel flaming rods in nighttime intersections for spare change, and you can get a big, cheap hamburger around the corner. Everyone is moving everywhere in brisk starts and stops- nothing seems to be very straight forward.
Heredia has flavor. It seems to be a good cross section of no-name, ordinary, Latin America. From walking down these streets it is difficult for me to tell what country I am in. Am I in Nicaragua, Ecuador, Uruguay? No, I am in Costa Rica. No-name, no-man’s lands are what is real. I smile when I end up somewhere that I have never heard of before. Heredia is Latin America- raw and rough. People get robbed in front of the McDonalds, people eat salsa lazana. I have missed this land.
Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
January 25, 2008