Where We Left Off

After finding that we wanted to take a few more pictures of the natural beauty of this immaculate town, we ended up swimming in the black sand water again. This beach is called Playa Negra and is actually where we began our beach adventure. In the water, there is an old, rusted, beached barge that is home to many creepy crabs. Swimming in the water gave us the brilliant idea to do handstands. They’re always much more fun with the stability of like-weightlessness. Chelsea and I both dunked our heads under, reaching for the sand that once surrounded our feet. The sand was, up to this point, very soft to the touch, very malleable, and very kind. I had no reason to expect that to change. As soon as my left hand hit the sand, it was as I had expected. But the moment my right hand hit, there was a shiver of fear that went up my spine. Even though my eyes were closed, I could still see what I had touched. It was one of the creepy crabs from the rustic barge. It clamped its claw onto my thumb in a panicked reaction. I must have disturbed his sleep and startled him. My panicked reaction was much less angry, and far more frightful. I did my best to scream, but the sound was muffled by the water and was not carried to the surface with the bubbles I produced. I instantly came back to air, trying to hold my composure. At this point, composure was not my strong suit. I waded in the water, both trying not to touch the ground and get Chelsea’s attention. She needed to know the scary secrets the black sand contains. As soon as she declared her factory, I explained what happened. In a mixture of fright and hilarity, we ran out of the water in a giggle. She heard my scream and assumed that I was mad that I did a poor hand stand. We basically Bay-Watched (verb) the fuck out of the water, got our shit, and left.

We spent the rest of the days on the streets talking with local vendors, perusing their homemade and tourist inspired souvenirs, buying a few trinkets here and there, but mostly ignoring the offer of weed and other drugs. Apparently Puerto Viejo invented hipster. You thought you knew hipster before? Well, in comparison, you’ve probably never heard the real meaning of the word. This town is extremely laid back. Maybe that is due to the peace and tranquility the atmosphere provides, or maybe it has to do with the amount of weed the kids are slinging on the streets from their little brother’s pocket on their little brother’s bike.
As any good smoker knows, the best weed is followed by food. And while we saved our Colones (CR Currency) on the weed part of the night, some food was still in order. I forget the name of the restaurant, but the food was amazing and their drinks nothing short of strong. Not to mention we got happy hour prices! One drink leads to another, and the next thing you know, we’re in three different bars at once. Some have dancing, some have Futbol, and others have hoolahoops in the road. Where there are hoolahoops, there are also free drinks for those awesome people who adhere to general dress codes. Basically, free drinks if you weren’t wearing a shirt. I dropped that thing like it was my prom dress on prom night. And yes, free drinks are equal to losing your virginity in a budget hotel; maybe less romantic, but also less painful.

After crashing in our hotel room at about 2 in the morning, we set an alarm for 6 hours later. I fucking hate mornings. We had one hour to pack, get breakfast, and catch a bus. Easy peasy, lemon squizy. The bus ride back to San Jose was just as gut-wrenching as the bus out of San Jose. This time I remembered to take my Dramamine before riding... It didn’t help. The only thing I could do to keep from hurling chunks was sleep. So I did; I slept most of the way. But as soon as we were in San Jose, it was time to find our school. ILISA School of language. The taxi’s had a hard time finding it, but we made it there eventually. The doors to the school were locked, and there was no way of getting a hold of the director of the program who told us to be there at the exact time we arrived. Luckily, there was a nice Spanish speaking security guard that understood enough English to make a phone call for us. PURA VIDA!

I met my familia tiko today. They, of course, are my Costa Rican family. Mama, Papa, Aldofo, Lindsey, Sebastian?, Douglass, Camilla, Ian, Nick, y Vivian. The house is essentially Everybody Loves Raymond: Two or three families living under two connected roofs. It is really cool. Everyone is very nice and I’m already learning a lot.

We began with a tour, with lead to food. I love food and I was starving, so it could not have come at a better time. The banana I tried to eat earlier was just not a good mix with vom sensation. She made me a delicious salad with a shit ton of vegetables, as well as Casado (Rice and Beans). It was very good. Not two hours passed before she fed me again. I didn’t want to be rude and decline the food, and it also looked very good so I wanted to try the potato soup she prepared. I was right, it was muy racism! After dinner, Lindsey and I went to a local pub. She actually is part of the family by marriage, and comes from English speaking North Carolina. She’s incredibly helpful and very nice. I felt bad because I felt like I was doing too much talking. I was just so overwhelmed with all the experiences I’ve been having that she is my only non- Chelsea, English speaking outlet. And that leads us to here. I’m in my bed now, parallel to the bed of my sleeping roommate. His name is Jeff. He’s pretty cool, I guess. So far I like him. We actually met once at a party. He was very drunk, which means he was very hilarious. His snores make me want to sleep too. So I think I’ll do just that. Que tenga una noche Buena!