A small man speaking perfect English approached me as I walked. His story changed -- he didn't understand the street numbering system, he couldn't find the Salvation Army, he was trying to get back to California. I gave him enough money to get lunch. I probably wouldn't have done it at home, and he likely was lying, but he was polite and I could afford to spare a few dollars.
It was quite warm that day, and there was a frozen yogurt shop near my hotel. I got a cup of mango frozen yogurt topped with mango and pineapple chunks, strawberry slices and coconut flakes. It was delicious and refreshing. Then back to the hotel in hopes I could charge my phone. Sadly, it was another incompatible device. It was only about 4 p.m., so I thought I'd head back up to the shopping center and try one of the other stores. As I looked over various cords and appliances and didn't see what I needed, without sharing a spoken language in common, the clerk asked whether I'd tried the tiny phone counter inside the adjacent grocery store. I hadn't, so he walked me right to it.
There was a young man who spoke perfect English, found exactly the right cord and insisted we plug it in and wait to see it charging my phone before I paid for it. I bought a bottle of wine and came back to the counter and gladly paid another $12 to have a cord that worked.
Back at the hotel, I plugged in, sent quick messages to family, enjoyed a glass of wine and mapped out my dinner plans.
I went to Cafe Mundo based in large part on the description in the Lonely Planet travel guide. It's a lovely place that one doesn't even notice during the day, because it is surrounded by a high wall. Once the gate is open you see lovely gardens and a large house with a wraparound porch. It has an extensive menu and the service was pretty good. My food however, was mediocre. I ordered patacones, fried plaintain patties served with black beans and guacamole, and stuffed mushrooms. The ambience was lovely, and I'd go back to sit with a drink, but not for the food. I regretted not trying to get into a tiny French restaurant in the same neighborhood, but chalked it up to experience. I walked another block to El Jardin for a drink, where I got to hear a couple of young English girls talk about their touring, including their surprise that Costa Rican men didn't leer as much as they expected, before calling it a night and heading back to my hotel.