Destination: Costa Rica

The 3:30 a.m. alarm seems like a 1,000 years ago. It always seems that way on vacations. The days last forever.

That alarm is also literally thousands of miles away now, as Amy and sit in San Jose, Costa Rica. A local band sings in Spanish in background as we relax in our hotel bar. They just butchered Endless Love, though.

We are five days away from USA-Costa Rica at Estadio Saprissa, one of the epic, scary stadiums in Central America. The U.S. team has never won here. Perhaps, perhaps this time, they will.

We arrived in San Jose around noon to what has to be the most pleasant airport in Central America. We weren't quickly rushed through passport control. Instead, we grabbed some cash and walked by a bunch of immaculately cute shops before clearing customs.

We took a cab and reached our hotel just as a thunderous tropical storm slammed into the city. The ground actually shook, and the rain came pouring down -- like movie rain -- torrential. For about an hour, the hotel lost power, but Amy and I grabbed a great little lunch at the (overpriced) hotel restaurant.

The walk from our hotel to downtown San Jose took about 15 minutes, but it wasn't the greatest neighborhood. But with Amy's awesome navigation sense at work, we found our way to San Jose's giant, crowded, outdoor shopping district. It reminded me a bit of the shops that snake though downtown Cologne.

Everywhere we turned, someone was trying to sell us lottery tickets. We didn't bite. We nestled down at a streetside bar to people watch. I quickly ordered one of the local beers (hoping it would be as good as the Gallo, the national beer of Guatemala.) After one lusty taste, I stopped cold.

"What's wrong?" Amy asked.

"Smell this," I said holding my beer to her nose.

"It smells like cold urine," she quickly said.

It didn't taste much better. But I forced down a few more gulps, before finally pushing it away in disgust.

So far, Costa Ricans have been amazingly friendly. The agent at passport control, smiled and softly taunted me when I told him I was going to Wednesday's game. Amy nearly ran over some guy in the street, who turned and gave her a big smile as she tried to apologize. (If only I could get someone to replace the down blankets in my room!)

I had told Amy we would grab a cab back after out trip to the town center. But Amy, showing a bit of bravery, marched us back down the scary streets as night began to fall. We arrived back just as the sun set. (The sun sets around 6 p.m. -- the price of being so close to the equator.)

Early tomorrow, we catch a small, regional plane for a 30-minute jaunt to Quepos on the Pacific Coast. We will spend four days among the rainforests and beaches of Manuel Antonio before returning to San Jose on Wednesday before the big match. The big question: Will there be anywhere to watch the Red Wings' Stanley Cup games while we are there???

(I must say: I'm not looking forward to the small plane ride. More on this tomorrow...)