Part 3: Vincent Van Gogh´s room, without the chair. Peace finally finds me. More to come.

The owner/manager is making blowing gestures with his mouth and hands to indicate something.I finally catch on: a FAN! Si, graçias!

I have the fan cooling the coke now. I packed the Abuelo Rum as an afterthought, glad now. A drink is in order this afternoon after about 20 hours travelling, in this strange little town in the hills, dusty street, local voyeurs and a very basic room. No beauty as you might expect to find it, but perhaps that means it is surrounding me in forms unexpected! Look out Joe! Don´t block the NEW!!

I asked the sweet old lady in the one-table restaurante when is dinner and she looked at the clock (3 pm) and told me three o´clock!.

It´s cool here, in the hills of Costa Rica, and the afterfnoon is cooling. It´s now maybe 5 o´clock and I hear a parrot out the back and the voices of the men working on the bus outside the cabina. It is funny - no matter what your room is while you are away from home - it´s YOURS! So you settle in!

About 9 feet by 11, including shower, basin and toilet. A piece of vinyl for a curtain, louvres for air, a little table and a shelf, an 8" circular mirror, a bed - one blanket, thin. But, I can let my body think it´s home while I range free in my mind.

It´s Vincent´s room, without the chair.

Maybe I´ll put on my best crumpled shirt and try the restaurant. Maybe the man on the pony will ride up and dismount and tie his reins to the hitching rail and we will talk. Maybe I´ll see the hidden beauty of these people and their little shanty town. A smile could do it. I slept on the buses and I´ll sleep tonight. Peace is what I want and it´s breaking upon me now.

Spanish voices. A bicycle gravels by at speed. Last of the sunlight held in creamy white clouds coming out of the grey, like cream on a cappuccino Royale. Dusk imminent. Magic time of day. All sounds, however different are all the same. All speak in murmurs of safety, love, familiarity, wonder.

Silence holds all the sounds, friendship, at last, as the day melts. ¨Sue see, see Sue¨ - birds. A motorcycle. The sound of my pen writing, a muscular sibilance, sweet grinding. Present moment, The.

More to come. I go to the restaurant