Punta Leona is a nice resort on the Pacific side of the country; A well branded establishment known for its private beach, 3 pools, and a miniature golf course. In addition to the natural wildlife, the not-so- natural butter fly exhibit, and the beautiful sky-scraping jungle trees, there is a mountain side of hotel rooms. Chelsea’s hotel room began the adventures, but mine apparently ended them. Between rooms, there was swimming, volleyball, karaoke, and a lot of fucking dancing. I mean a lot. We started playing volley ball after the beach burned me out. I don’t love the beach. There is a lot of salt in my eyes, a lot of violent water in my noise, and too damn much sand in my vagina. The volley was really getting good when it began to rain, but the weather here is so hot all the time (so is the water), that the rain was treated as an invited guest. We played until we couldn’t see any longer. The water soaked us so much, that an awesome pool sess was in session. After the pool, we ran back to our rooms to throw on some clothes, fill our bellies with the all you can eat buffet in the restaurant, then back to the party. Near the bar, there was some Karaoke. I was so down to do a song, but they were all in Spanish, and I can’t just pretend to know a song, not even in English. The drunk happened again. Thank god. Which means so did the dancing. The night was good. But it was hardly done. I thought it was nearly finished when we started walking back to our hotel room singing different drunken songs at the top of our lungs, but all of a sudden we found a special, secrete, hidden pool that spoke to us as if a river of sirens were calling our names. Chelsea, McKenna, and I all jumped in and continued our intoxicated ramblings of music. We also decided that we’re the world’s first underwater band. You might be asking yourself, “What t eff is an underwater band?” Well, it is very simple, Reader. It is basically just pantomiming instruments, but also making the noises, all while underwater.
After the pool, I returned to my hotel room to find a band of Weber State University misfits were having their ridiculously boring conversation in my bed. That was no good, but I didn’t want to be rude so I pulled up a chair. I got really sick of them, so I pretend to fall asleep. They soon realized that they were depriving me of my soft pillows with a need to elevate their feet, and within minutes, they left. Best. Plan. Ever. As soon as they did, I took a really nice shower, followed by a really quick doze into slumber land. 6 hours later I awoke to the thought of missing the free breakfast. I threw on my flops and was out the door! The beach seems so appealing on TV, but honestly in practice, it is significantly less satisfying. I learned this the hard way. It took us 30 minutes to get to the good beach, and it took me 30 minutes to correct that mistake. But correcting it was a very good decision. The pools at this resort are wonderful. And I definitely spent the better part of today in it. If it weren’t for the shitty restaurant service (40-50 minutes were wasted waiting for a plate of fries), this resort could be my new best friend. The day grew longer and the sun began to drop. The time to leave the resort was upon us when I decided that there needed to be more volley in the mix. And so it was. The bus ride home was a sandy one, but I made a new friend, so I didn’t mind all the sand. She is different from all the other new friends I’ve made because I met her so late in the trip. Everyone else has been on the same page since almost day one.
I’m missing home. I love my family and all the things they do. But honestly, what I’m missing most is a block of cheese, and my Monkee. And you cannot forget a delicious burrito (red sauce) from Del Taco. I suppose I’m weird for not getting separation anxiety from my real home. I like it there, and some days it is just where I need to be, but for now, I’m content. You will all be happy to know that I put a bunch of pictures on the wall where I rest my head. So if I love you, you’re not forgotten. Keep in touch, friends.
Write me on facebook. I don’t get to be on a computer for very long, and I usually only have time to respond, but I would love to hear from you. Also, don’t write me a message because for some reason I cannot check my inbox on the Faus Buk. However, if you feel I should, I can start checking my Yahoo account. Derekrulz@yahoo is where you can write me there.
Loves,
Derekita.
XOXOXO
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