Rock and Roll is one thing, surfing another, but even in the land of twenty dollar eight balls, nothing compares to food.

Yessir, even with the windows up and the air-co raging, it was hard to escape the tantalizing scent of the "Tico style" chicken shack; so Mark, ET, Neil and me had no choice but to make one last stop on our way to the San Jose airport.

Not sure how they achieve that nuclear yellow glow on the chicken, but apparently the preferred fuel for the wood burning fire oven is old two-by-fours (see photo).

After a week of drinking up the juicy nectar of the Costa Rican surf spots like so many milk-shakes (I drink it up!!) we were hungry. Luckily, in the land of the longest left, rotisserie-chicken stands are omnipresent. The succulent brick oven bird is king down there. Of course, everything including the "American breakfast" is served with rice and beans; but throw in some fried plantains and a mango shake on top of this fire roasted bird and dude, you'll be in a trance. All for like three bones a head (it was Neil's treat).