Fun & Frolick in Costa Rica - Part II
Today begins like yesterday with coffee and a massage. I’m not very relaxed on the table. Maybe its the moody overcast weather today. Danielle gets a massage from a blind man up the road and urges us all to try it. Maybe tomorrow. I fry up a plantain for breakfast, which I really enjoy. There is a weird vibe in the house today, not much energy. We do a lot of lying around and I am restless. Finally around 3 o’clock or so, Danielle and I go for a walk down the beach. On our way back we hear steel drums down at the Hotel Playa Negra. It turns out to be the owner’s birthday they are celebrating. The manager, a friend of Danielle’s buys us a drink. Accept for a glass at the French restaurant the wine has not been very good here. I don’t care for most of the beer here either. I found a dark beer at the grocery store but none of the bars have it. Tonight is our going out night, so we hurry back to the house to change and have our champagne at sunset that we’ve been talking about. The sunset is beautiful, as they all have been. Dinner at the french restaurant, Deveena's, is a delight. Duck pate, lobster salad, and the gnocchi with pancetta are my favorites, but the table was filled with other things to taste as well. After our meal we go out dancing. The music and drinks are not good, but I have a ball anyway. Danielle and I dance up a storm. I talk the black light painter into dabbing some paint on me so I’ll glow in the black lights. I end up with three stripes on my upper arms and a bindi that ends in a stripe down my nose. I think it would be fun to be painted head to toe. I personally think this would be a better business for the “artist” than the black light paintings he’s doing. But that is just my humble opinion and I keep it to myself. Divina, Deila’s mom, is coyly swinging in a hammock drinking a bottle of coke. A some what younger frenchman is trying his best to hit on her. Divina is seriously hot for a sixty something, so its no wonder. She’s filled with folklore and crazy stories. She drops bits of wisdom like a toddler drops crumbs. I learn to pay attention. And even now she dangles her feminine whiles like a proverbial carrot. I'm taking notes. My other playmates, however, are beginning to look bored. I’m not ready to go home but everyone else is, so home to bed before midnight.
The monkey’s were loud last night. And its obvious why they call them Howler Monkeys. Today is the day of two massages. I feel gluttonous at the prospect. Louis gives me the best massage to date. Pushing everything just a bit further than before. A massage has to be the best way to start the day. Especially when its a two minute walk down the beach under a tree and tent. I seem to be the only one who would like to do excursions. I suggested we try zip lines through the jungle. No one wants to drive that far. I suggest we just do the substandard local zip line. My choice of words seems to scare them, so we will probably stay close to the house again today. The blind massage was a bit of a disappointment. Why I thought a sightless guy would be better I’m not sure. He pinched and pulled his way across my body. Using his own oil which smelled like petroleum. He asked if, “You want massage here?” (buttocks). “Sure.” Big mistake. He ground his elbow so hard into my glute I had to bite my lip, so as not to yell. The saving grace, he could not see my scrunched up face or the blood trickling down from my mouth.
Once back home and away from the Costa Rican torture tent, I try to drink in every sensual detail of the place. I feel the sands slipping through this lovely hour glass. We decide tonight we will dress up and paint the town. We forgot to let the town know. We couldn’t find an open “soda” or cantina. Back home sober and deflated we go to bed early. No one wants to say out loud that tomorrow is our last day.
I woke with determination on my last day. This one was not going to be swept away by the surf. Up with the sun, make coffee, meditate on the beach, solo yoga by the pool then off for my last massage. It is a bittersweet thing. I hold Francis' hand and say good bye when my bliss is over. I'm not going to languish the day away by the pool. I might even take myself out to breakfast, alone, me. Danielle catches me on my return though. Proposes the two of us go to Tamarindo to do some shopping and go out to lunch. Now were talking; I have a partner in crime.
We're showered, dressed and out the door in fifteen. This is more like it. We drive the thirty minutes to the dusty little town of Tamarindo. Then as women often do, we drive around for another fifteen, trying to find "the perfect" place to eat. Away from the beach, we unearth a tropical paradise, Cala Luna. The food is excellent and the wine is better. Three hours later we are lounging on steamers, digesting by their pool. The bar boys across the pool are commenting to each other, with hand motions, that they can see up our skirts. We're too relaxed to care and order coffee.
Eventually we buy some souvenirs and head home. We do have a schedule today. Sunset toast then dinner reservations. Dinner at Deveena's is once again fabulous and lengthy. We go through several bottles of french wine and then the owners bring us just one more to top us off. By the time we get home, we are feeling the Pura Vida. Even though we have to get up at 4 am to catch our plane I decide we need one last night of skinny dipping. Everyone participates this time. There are nude belly flop contests, water ballet attempts and lots of photography. We drink and laugh and play till 2 am.
We set our alarms for 4 am and hit the sheets for a brief nap The morning is a somber time of dragging suitcases to the car, now heavy with seashells and trinkets. I take one last look at the Playa Negra surf, one last look at the beautiful Casa de Fuego, that was my home for the week. I try to ingrain the smell and the feel of the place into my brain before I take my place in the car.
So am I successful? Did I find Pura Vida? I think I have. More surprising though, I think I found a part of my self here, on the coast of Costa Rica. And I didn’t even know I had lost it.