We spent our first couple of days in dirty San Jose saying goodbye to my departing freinds and touring the place I called home. We shared a domestic evening with my former host family where we provided parting gifts while they served as a traditional Tico dish. We were anxious to escape the harsh city life and explore the plush wilderness so we quickly took a bus to the Guanacaste region that covers most of the Pacific coastline and Nicoya Peninsula. We decided that a touristy surf town called Tamarindo would be our destination, and a hostel aptly named "Pura Vida" our temporary home. We quickly and coincidentally met a guy named Chance from Alaska and a few other travelers from Scotland, LA, and Sweden. We arrived too late to view the sunset so we went right into eating and drinking. First, we had the best meal either of us has had in a long while at a small, open-aired restaurant called Dragonfly. Eventually we sauntered to a liquor store that also served as a bar and got caught up in the best nightlife in town. Some tequila and a few cervesas later, we stumbled back to our dorm and retired for the night. We awoke early the next day, switched rooms for privacy sake, and for only $30 a night achieved a queen sized bed and air conditioning. Our goal in Tamarindo was to learn how to surf. It would be my second time, Christina's first, and I proved to be a far better learner than teacher. Christina stood a couple of times but retired early citing frustration while I was able to find far more consistency than my first attempt. During a luch break with Chance we ironically ran into a friend of mine from Canton. It was their last night so we partied again, saying farewell to Chance and helping Chris court an American hippie working as a teacher. We finally caught a sunset, my first since arriving in Costa Rica, and we spent our last day preparing for departure and making dinner in our immaculately kept, open-aired kitchen.
The next morning we departed for the cloud forest of Monteverde and a town called Santa Elena. For $25/night we made a home at Cabinas Eddy which was owned by a very welcoming family of two generations and a dueling pair of pets. There, we defied gravity on the longest ziplining tour in Costa Rica while dodging howler monkeys and gazing at amazing butterflies fit for Pandora. We had dinner and drinks in a tree house, and listened to our canopy guide and a local drummer cover reggae songs with an acoustic guitar at a local club. We left after a couple of days and returned back to the valley below. With Thanksgiving and Christina's birthday approaching we wanted to veer from hostel life and stay somewhere a bit more elegant. Christina wanted to see a volcano and I knew the perfect one. I emailed the wakeboarder I befriended on my previous excursion to Arenal because he had mentioned before that he and his girlfriend operated a local bed and breakfast. He replied with an amazing offer we couldn't refuse; $50 to stay one night in a "palace" at the base of the volcano. We arrived after a 5 hour jaunt through the mountains on a jeep, then a boat, and back on a jeep. The views of Lake Arenal were painstakingly beautiful and serene, still untouched by the growing commerce. The place wasn't exactly a palace but acted as a fitting place to give thanks for all the good in our lives. I was able to watch a bit of the Patriot's game before going to collect food for Thanksgiving dinner. When the sun went down, Jonny and Sofia brought us to the local's hot spring. There we chased a buzz while wading in the swift, steaming river flowing from the heart of the volcano by candle light. We returned to cook our meal and fell asleep on the veranda to the sound of tropical rain. We never got a chance to see the volcano due to intense fog, but the trip was a success and we had the Caribbean playground of Puerto Viejo ahead of us.
A shuttle ride to the middle of nowehere, 90 minutes waiting for a public bus, and a 3 hour ride to the Caribbean standing in the aisle of a sweltering bus was how we spent the first half of Christina's 25th birthday. Anyone else would have dropped me by then, but she stuck with me even when I dragged her to the moldy tents of Rocking J's. I don't know if it was the abundance of alcohol, the birthday pineapple I surprised her with, or the spectacular beaches and easygoing atmosphere of the small rasta town, but we were able to have a great night. Unfortunately, on our bike ride to the beach the following morning, it began to rain. Our day on the beach was thwarted, but we salvaged the day at The Jaguar Rescue Center where we socialized with monkeys, gawked at sloths, and actually learned a good deal from our guide. The following day the sun finally came out and we explored the beaches. We spent the morning at the local beach with a professional snowboarder from France named Chris and his quiet lady friend before biking to nearby Punta Uva, probably the most scenic beach I've ever walked on. We napped in the shade of the mangrove forest and enjoyed watching the sun go down behind the trees, offering the most colorful afternoon either of us could remember. We slept in hammocks on an open air platform that night thankful that we were finally allowed our day in the sun.
Eventually we made it back to the Central Valley to say goodbye to our new friends and the troical land that played host to this amazing adventure. We left exhausted on November 31st and arrived back to Reality on the first of December.
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