Costa rica by Bus

Our last night in Tamarindo was fantastic. The dinner was wonderful, and everyone who partook was satisfied, including us. Somehow we managed to recoup the entire expense of the food plus a little change extra, which was nice. After that it was time for drinking, followed by a few hours of dancing. At some point we made it back to the hostel, passed out, took a short nap, and woke up still drunk and caught the only bus to San Jose at 5:30am. The bus ride was a little over 6 hours, by the end of it I was hung over and very tired.

When we finally got to San Jose we went to our hostel, ate some food at the restaurant upstairs and crashed for about 2 hours. Then we walked across town to try and get our plane tickets refunded or changed (which didnt work). Finally we got a good nights sleep, woke up figured out the bus we needed to get to Cahuita and since it didnt leave until 2pm went to the Jade Museum and walked around to waste time. The museum was ok, the best part was using the labels to practive spanish.

The bus to Cahuita took almost exactly 4 hours. During that time I read Siddartha, by Herman Hesse. When we pulled into Cahuita we walked along a dirt road looking for a place to stay. We hitched a ride with the local mechanic at one point and he took us to a place called Reggae Cabinas. We got a dirty, hot room that was not worth the price we paid, but at least we had a place to put our stuff. We got dinner at a local joint back in town, had some drinks then went to bed. I had a bad night of getting bit constantly by bugs and waking up from the heat. We woke up looked around town and decided to go to Puerto Viejo right away.

This turned out to be a great decision. The bus ride was short, especially since I got off at the stop before town. So we walked along the beach, until it started pouring down rain. Then we walked for about 2 miles down the road to a place called Rocking J's, where we are currently staying. J's is a pretty incredible place. They have private rooms, tents and hammocks all in a large compound. The owner, a guy from Arizona named J encourages people to decorate the place with paintings and mozaics. The place is very colorful as a result, giving it a warm feel. It also lies right on the beach, which is nice. Puerto Viejo is a very laid back, cool place. It has been raining alot since we got here, but we have kept ourselves entertained.

Anyway, that brings us more or less up to date since the last post. The internet is very expensive here so there will probably not be another post for a while. Until then.

Pura Vida

-Cash

Heartfelt goodbyes to a wonderful dinner

Tomorrow p:w leaves for Cahuita on the Caribbean Coast by way of San Jose. It is good to be moving again, but its bittersweet after having made such genuine friends.

La Botella de Leche has really been a second home for us. Weve made friends with a few people in town (a shout out to Pedro y familia), and a few long term regulars here at the hostel--Juan (Dengue Boy), Crystal, Wences, Santiago, Christian and Stephanie--which has made our stay so wonderfully hospitable. You really cant ask for a better experience than this, or for better people to have spent your time with. You all will be missed.

I have a lot of love in my heart for Mariana, the hostel mother, who has taken us in and made us all feel special and loved. From travel stories over the terriffic Costa Rican coffee, to the hugs and laughs over my studying trig and computer science at the free computer station, Mariana has been so gracious in her acceptance and genuine in her love. I will sorely miss her when I go! I still have a smile though, because I know I will see her again. Hasta luego...

I especially want to give thanks for the cleaning ladies here: Socorro, Piedad, y Reina. Over countless questions in broken Spanish, to eventual jokes and running conversations as I labored over rolling out and cooking the tortillas (and I mean labored), Socorro has been such a friend. She helped me with my Spanish, my black beans, and my rice, and when we hugged goodbye this evening I missed her immediately.

That being said, to celebrate Cash and my departure, and that of a few other "regulars," I put together a huge dinner. I was cooking for 12! The menu:

Mahi Mahi tacos with all the fixins, a spicy mango-cucumber salsa, homemade tortillas, spicy refried black beans, and rice pilaf with grated carrot, garlic and onion.

It was a giant success! It started with a trip to Pedros, a final high five and goodbyes, and 4 1/2 pounds of fresh caught Mahi Mahi. Let me tell you, that is a lot of fish. The marinade I put together was spicy lime with cilantro and garlic. Next was rolling out 35 flour tortillas (with extra butter!), starting a giant pot of black beans, and whipping up two pans of toasted Spanish rice. Then came the salsa, chopping up the avocados, cabbage, tomatoes, and the rest. I was cooking for 7 hours today, covered in flour, sweat, and campfire smoke. Cooking is hard work baby... I really was slaving over a hot oven all day. I dont know how some people can do that all the time, but I certainly have a lot more respect for it. Heres to use #37 for a nalgene bottle: rolling pin.

Cash was really helpful as well. From all the prep cook work, to building the firepit, to cleaning up the dishes, Cash made the entire process 100% smoother. He learned a lot too, so I expect him to do a little more cooking in the future. Stephanie helped as always, simulatneously stirring two pans of rice, chopping veggies, and being a guinea pig taster for the salsa. All this with me looking on and giving advice and directions. Thanks to you both for your help and your patience!

The final product was amazing. Bright yellows and greens and reds mingled in the salsa, stacks of warm, fresh homemade tortillas adorned neatly folded red towels, while two plates piled high with beautifully grilled fish stole the show. There were giant ceramic pots with black beans, and another for the orange and yellow colored rice. A great heaping bowl of avocado, a mass of purple cabbage, red tomatoes and grated carrot completed the presentation on separate cutting boards to the side. Everything was served with great big wooden spoons with worn handles, and everyone was delighted. It was a feast for the eyes and the belly! All the hostel animals agreed--the 3 dogs Pujo, Romi, and T.B.--dutiful opportunists to the last, had to be shooed several times during the course of the meal ambling woefully off before appearing just minutes later somewhere else. We all dug in.

You know, there is nothing like a big dinner to bring people together, and its even better when everyone has gelled into a family. To see everyone laughing and eating and having a great time fixed that image and sensation for me, and suddenly all the work was worth it. It was a rush. Compliments, jokes, and rum and cokes abounded.

I even had a money bowl for people to help pay for the work and ingredients. It was so successful, Cash and I ended up eating for free and got a little money in our pockets to boot. This is definitely a good skill to have on the road--now if only I had my bartending equipment...

Anyhow, now it is time for packing up and getting prepared for a 5:45 am, 7 hour bus ride to San Jose. Cash and I will be making our way to the Carribbean the day after that for another week of surfing and relaxing before we hit Bocas del Toro in Panama, and then eventually sailing to Columbia to feel out the waters there.

Again, a great big thank you to everyone in La Botella--I will never forget the good times.

Con gusto,
Dave

Thanksgiving - Costa Rica Style

For me, Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday of the year. It is a time when friends and family come together just to have a godd time with each other. The idea of taking time to give thanks for your life resonates with my spiritual quest. The mass consumption of food, drink and sweets helps too, as does the 4 day weekend - though this year that didnt matter so much.

Yesterday Dave and I had quite the time here in Tamarindo. Somehow, despite some rumors we heard the night before, we were absolved of cooking and cleaning duties. It pays to build up goodwill - our efforts the last 3 weeks to feed others and keep the communal kitchen clean obviously did not go unnoticed. We spent the daylight hours engaged in the random pursuits of Tamarindo life - surfing, walking on the beach, etc.

Then the sun went down, the food arrived. The table was filled with veggies, baking materials and 4 chickens - which after a brief debate it was decided to add two more to the mix. The food didn´t start until around 5:30, and people began congregating at about the same time. There were over two dozen people all told.

For most of them it was their first Thanksgiving. I mingled with Canadians (who have thanksgiving in October), Germans, Israelis, Argentines, Ticos (Costa Ricans) and a handful of other Americans. The atmosphere was quite festive, with the courtyard and every room in the hostel full of people buzzing about enjoying themselves. Beer and rum flowed freely. Joints were passed about without worry and there were some intense games of ping pong. At one point the ball was knocked into one of the fires and burned up in only a few seconds. The two chickens on that grill got a "special" flavoring - though no one noticed when it came time to eat.

The meal took a long time to cook, even with substituting chicken for turkey. It was around 10 when we finally ate dinner. When the time came though it was magnificent. I will try and get some pictures from the people saavy enough to still have their cameras.

The kitchen was set up buffet style. Bread station - Chicken - Mashed potatoes with gravy and cranberry sauce - stuffing - salad station with salsa. It was wonderful food. The common room filled with people. All the bean bags and much of the floor was covered with hungry guests. For a while there was silence as we savored the long-awaited meal. After the first round those quick enough got seconds before dessert - pumkin pie with a graham cracker crust - was served. Damn it was tasty.

All told it was a great time. Everything turned out for the best. The only thing missing was my family and friends. I love and miss you guys. Being down here has made me appreciate you all more than I can express right now. I hope your Thanksgiving dinners were full of joy, love and good times. Until next time.

Pura Vida.

-Cash

A Happy Thanksgiving from Bob Dylan and the P:W Crew

Hello everyone. Its Thanksgiving!

Ah, I miss my family. Damn, and what is it about Dylan that makes everything melancholy? Anyhow, here is the latest:

Whew! Last night I made some homemade tortillas and homemade refried black beans and Spanish rice with grated carrot. Props to Pedros and Antonio in particular, since I got the rice recipe from him. The carrots added a meatiness to the rice that really complemented the rest of the dishes. I also made chile rellenos again, and again, everyone loved it. I was told by the womenfolk here at the hostel that I would be cooking today. A kitchen full of women and your truly... That should be fun.

Yesterday, I also went surfing to the sunset after I squared away all the intial preparations for the dinner meal. (Homemade tortillas are amazing, but take a lot of preptime dammit). If you can picture me in a camo bandana, brown and barechested, awkwardly riding a circa 1980s girls cruiser bike painted like a cow with one hand, clutching a 7 and a half foot board in the other, I rode my dreadsteed to a beach called Langosta a couple of kilometers away. It was the Bucephalus to my Alexander, and I was on my way to conquer the sunset estuary point break.

The sunset was liquid yellow, tinged with orange and red, with the sky hanging a giant, nearly full moon behind me in a frame of deep blue. The clouds were cumulous, low and purpled. The light of the sun burned at a low angle to the water, so the details and texture of each wave popped out in dazzling relief, and when the water crashed over me the waves were illuminated from behind in a flash of brilliant jade green. The violence of the colors was apocalyptic; their ferocity was offset by a pregnant stillness in the air broken only by gentle offshore breezes...

All of this was reflected in the surface of the water so that paddling out to the waves was like paddling out over sky; it was an impressionists mottled gold, paint bucket fantasy. Waiting for the set to roll in was serene, and before you knew it, suddenly from the horizon they would approach... The lighting and the speed of the waves gave you time to savor the approach, all this made catching them a leisurely pursuit. When I caught a wave and surfed it in, I could see the bowl of the moon burning white. It was really spectacular.

I have seen so many sunsets like that. I have watched them alone from secluded beaches, watched them from the board I was riding, bobbing out in the bosom of the ocean, watched them from my favorite fish shack enjoying a blackberry shake. They bleed together in a place where you dont count time; they are like different members of the same species... Similar, but with their own personalities and eccentricities.

Despite how amazing this sounds, today I miss my family the most. I miss Sarah and I miss Katie and Criss, Tim and Kate, my Monine, and I miss Lee. I miss my family back home in Riddle, and I miss Jon and Crystal. (However, I do not miss Cricket, the little turd with fur that lives with my parents) If I could be anywhere it would be with them. I am really thankful to have such a great family, and I am thankful for my opportunity to be here.

I am thankful for my lady
for her laughter
and for her choice to honor me as her partner,
for her grace
and her acceptance;

I am thankful for my persepective
for the love of my family and friends,
for opportunity
for what my suffering has taught me
and for having such a bright future ahead of me;

I am thankful to be here.
I am thankful for the ability to see and love and cherish;
I am thankful to be alive.

From Central America, Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

A Longosta sunset. Alas, not mine since I am without a camera, and not nearly as beautiful as the yesterday, but you get the idea.

Pedros es Numero Uno!

A couple of days ago I had the pleasure of hanging out with Pedro and his family at his family's restaurant, Pedro's Fishshack, Numero Uno. There is a funny story about it actually. The fish house is so popular amongst locals, that when tourists want to go they ask, "Where is Pedro's?"

Without fail, they are directed to the waterfront. There just so happened to be a local Tico who had the idea to make an impostor fish house and decided to call it Pedro's as well. People would show up and ask, "Is this Pedro's?"

"Yes, yes. Please, have a seat." And so it went.

Pedro Sr., furious upon hearing about this, painted a brilliant red "Numero Uno" on the side of his restaurant to let it be known where his fish house stood in relation to all others.

Anyhow, hanging out with Pedro Jr. is always super chill. All he does is drink, fish, smoke, fish, and drink some more. And somewhere in there, he helps run the restaurant. I usually show up to Pedro's around noon, when the fishing boats come in from the morning catch. These guys are out at 4:30 in the morning hauling nets and Pedro and a few of his relatives and friends free-dive for octopuses (nod to Tim), conch, red snapper, lobster and anything else they can pull up.

The day I went I took a look at the mahi, tuna, and a parrotfish. A parrotfish is a big damn fish with a turquoise skin with orange sherbet stripes and spiky fins--straight out of Dr. Seuss. Shrimps with arms and pincers longer than their bodies, crabs, and squid. It was fascinating.

A Parrotfish submitted for your approval: This is basically what I saw at Pedro's, sans lifeforce.

Pedro then gave me a taste of a local delicacy. Fresh, raw conch soaked in lime juice with a pinch of salt. It was chewy and tart, and tasted surprisngly refreshing and not at all fishy.

Have some freakin' conch already--I'll take mine with lime.
The real thing is even less appetizing than this picture, but far more tasty.

After a look, I struck up a conversation with Pedro's dad, Pedro Sr. for whom the eatery is named after. He is well into his 70s, still laboring hard with his 3 boats for a diminishing catch and increased competition from larger corporate outfits. Gas prices are rising and he can feel the labor in his bones, but none-the-less he enjoys the work. And really, what else is there to be done?

It is funny, sad and true that sometimes the entire family will get pissed one night, and then continue to drink for 2 weeks straight. No lie. The fishing stops, the restaurant stops, eating stops. There is a laid back relaxation to everything, but at the same time, there is a low lying tension. The world is changing, Tamarindo is becoming more commericalized, city ordinances have changed so the fish shack is technically too close to the water... All of this makes for a quiet desparation that puts paradise into relief.

Pedro's mom, Angela, is a sweet and sharp woman. You can see in her eyes the numbers being crunched; the next week's finances being calculated. It is my thought that Pedro's exists because of this shrewd woman. Despite her alacrity, she is still mirthful, genuine, and quick to smile.

After talking, I purchased arroz con leche, a rice pudding made with cinnamon from a local merchant. This is the kind of wandering merchant that usually frequents local businesses, and for whom gringos rarely patronize. The pudding was still warm, and Pedro and I enjoyed a juice made fom milk and starfruit, each eating our pudding in silence.

Pedro then told me about some of his horror stories from diving. To catch an octopus, they have a long pole with a hook at the end. You can't see octopuses very well since they are such experts at camouflage, but one thing makes them standout: their posture. The stand perfectly still and hope that you pass right over them. If you know what to look for you can see their eyes protruding from their large round heads. So, having the luck to see an octopus, you slowly extend the pole with the hook underneath it. It will not move because it is banking on its gambit of deception. When the hook is underneath it, jerk, and as fast as you can, grab the head. Flip the animal over and bring the hard end of the pole down on the center of the beak and try to kill it by crushing it as quickly as possible. Once thats done, turn the head inside out and discard the brain and entrails. In less than 30 seconds you have caught, killed, and cleaned an octopus. Pedro assures me that speed is the key. With the entrails hovering about you, other fish are attracted and that is generally when Pedro will use his speargun to hunt for snapper. Speaking of his experience of hunting octopuses, Pedro confided:

"Once man, I didn kiel it fast enough man. It wrapped eight legs around me and started to bite me with its beak man. Man, that beak hurts you man."

Pedro's girlfriend confirmed this telling me a story of Pedro returning from a morning's fishing expedition with an arm covered in blood and circular hickeys.

"You have to pry those suckers off one at a time man. They leave poka dots like this." Pedro slowly makes sucking sounds. It then occurs to me that all of this action is happening on a single breath of air under about 4 meters of water. I laugh and continue to eat my pudding.

This is the horrifying maw of a squid. Can you imagine engaging in single, mortal combat with this?

"Man bro, I need to burn." Pedro produces a joint, and begins to puff. In quiet solemnity, I look on. *grin*

At one point I asked if I could see the cooks do their work, as I am interested in local cooking and everyone here was so friendly.

"Sure man, sure."

Upon entering the hectic kitchen, I met two Nicaraguans, Antonio and Kenya. Antonio is a flamboyantly gay cook, with french manicured toenails and the smoothest legs I have seen outside of a magazine. Kenya is a sweet woman who earnestly preps vegetables and sauces. Right away, Antonio begins to direct me in preparing seafood pasta, frying plantains, and the correct manner in cooking small blue crabs. In a cooler is all of the bounty that Pedro caught earlier that morning, waiting to hit the pan. So I cooked and asked lots of questions in broken Spanish and had a quite a few laughs. It was a great experience.

After my stay at Pedros for the day, I brought them the tropical fruit salsa I prepared as a thanks. Needless to say, Pedros is Numero Uno for me, and I would recommend it to anyone who finds themselves in Tamarindo.

--Dave

The quiet moments

Hello again all,


Life here in Tamarindo is continuing as ususal. Slowly and easy. Each day is full of experience and life. Each night is full of good food, good drinks and good people. Usually during the day I go surfing or swing in a hammock, reading and listening to music. I also try and find time each day to explore the areas in and around Tamarindo. The natural world around and in this town is incredible.


For instance, two days ago I decided to take a long walk to clear my head. I wandered the streets of Tamarindo at first, navigating through loud, dusty streets. Loud constructions sites, dusty roads, noisy vendors and packs of yammering tourists was not the environment I was looking for, so I headed out of town.


After a few minutes of relative quiet, broken only by the ocasional car hurtling past me spewing up a large cloud of dust, I was walking through a patch of woods. A little ways into the woods I found a beach access trail behind a bus stop and started walking slowly. The trail went through a small swamplike patch of ground straight to the ocean. The woods stretched off to my right. On the left a simple farmhouse stood, the yard overgrown with grasses and shrubs, the house itself slowly crumbling under a tin roof. It was quiet and perfect.

After the bustle of town standing in a patch of marshy woodlands was a catalyst for me. I cleared my mind and focused on just experiencing the life around me, and it was incredible. The path was lined with these brightly colored red and yellow land crabs I hadn't noticed before. There were dozens of them lining the path. As I walked along the path they would jump into these holes they had dug in the mud at incredible speed. I never got closer than about 6 meters (20 feet) to any of them, but if I stood still I could watch those further away moving around. I sat and watched the crabs, birds lizards and insects around me for a long time before continuing on to the beach.

It is little things like this that make life here so amazing and each day worth waking up for. Well, that is a sample of my life here in Tamarindo, along with the crazy stuff Dave has told told you all about. Stay tuned and live well.

Pura Vida.

-Cash

Dang theives

Arg. A couple of days ago someone stole our digital camera. Needless to say, pics and videos will be out for the forseeable future due to this set back.

Cést la vie.

That said, anyone who has an old digicam beater that wants to donate it, feel free to contact me at davecoulter@gmail.com and let me know.

Anyhow, besides that, Cash and I have decided to get a move on early. Costa Rica has been good to us, but it is time to go soon. Instead of staying here another month and week, we are playing with the logistics of traveling overland through Panama, taking a boat to Columbia, and then overland to Ecuador and then to Peru.

We still don´t know exactly how this will work, but we are figuring it out! At worst, the added expense will cut the trip short, but we figure that experiencing the overland journey through southern Central America and South America will be much cooler than stewing here another month and then hopping right to Lima.

Other items of interest:

Last night I made some red snapper. It was great! Macademia nut/toasted coconut encrusted snapper with lime butter on the barbeque. I also made a killer fruit salsa with fresh papaya, pineapple, mango, avocado, jalepeños, chiles dulce, lime juice and salt. To finish, a rice pilaf with mushrooms.

When I bought the fish from a local fisherman named Pedro Jr., I also asked if I could score some line and a lure and he was into it. I also asked if I brought him a beer if he would spend some time with me and help me perfect my fish fileting skills. So tonight or tomorrow night, I will hopefully be drinking some beers to the sunset and surf casting and maybe even cleaning my own fish!

Until then,
Dave

Chili rellenos, Pokerfest 2007, and my best wave yet!!

Hey all:

Life here in Tamarindo is still creeping forward at it´s lulling, Costa Rican pace. A friend of mine remarked today that it is a bit like the movie Groundhog´s Day, since every morning we walk the same couple of kilometers to the beach, see the same people and animals lazily shuffling about, and hear the same merchants hawk their wares. It´s as if we´re all in a perpetual Sunday morning. These last couple of days have been dominated by surfing, cooking, and evening parties--the most recent of which I whipped together some red pepper chili rellenos.

For those interested, I started the process by roasting the chilis on an open flame until the waxy skin was charred black. The smell is tremendous and right about this time you can expect fellow hostel mates to poke their heads in and casually ask what´s for dinner. After removing the peppers from the heat, I stored them between two plates (the top inverted to make a small enclosure) to let them sweat. Next, I combined some Mexican cheese and cream cheese in a blender, along with a little garlic and a touch of milk. This makes a delicious and thick white cheese paste that you can put in the freezer to thicken as you prepare the rest of the meal.

After letting the chilis sit, the charred skins are easy to scrape off. A quick slit down the pepper and you can remove the seeds and begin stuffing them with 1 or 2 tablespoons of the cheese mixture. I used toothpicks to seal these puppies back up and set them aside to cool some more.

Here is the hard part--the batter. Separate about 6 egg whites and yolks (for about 7 rellenos) and set aside the yolks. Whip the whites until semi stiff peaks form. This is not an easy task with a crappy bowl and a fork... But with some cursing, determination, and a few cold beers, it can be done. Whip the yolks together with a pinch of salt and a tablespoon of flour. Fold the yolks into the egg whites, add a bit of paprika, and the bam! You´ve got a light airy batter just waiting for some chilis.

Heat a pan full of oil, dredge the stuffed peppers in flour and then drop them into the batter, then into the hot oil. Flip. Take these bad boys out when they are golden brown and you´re done! I didn´t even get to eat a whole one of these before they were all snatched up, so when you make them, more is better.

Whew! Just recounting that recipe has me sort of sweating.

After dinner, Pokerfest commenced!

The idea for poker night (besides the fact that a bunch of 20 something males are drinking together in a hostel looking for something to do), is the copious amounts of change you get here in Costa Rica. 10, 20, 25, 50, 100, and 500 colones coins makes for a huge amount of clanging metal in your pocket so we generally leave a giant stash of coins in our hostel rooms. Splitting them up, we each had a couple thousand colones.

The match quickly declined into shenanigans, and so Christian, (a German friend of mine here at the hostel) and I, put the shades on. Below are some vids of the action. Anyhow the game lasted for hours and in the end it was Cash and I duking it out for a pile of tin. Cash won. Damn.

Showdown


Dammit

Shenanigans

And today!

The best wave yet. I was at Playa Longosta, and there was no one there except for the La Botella de Leche surf crew. On my second attempt I caught this wave--and I kid you not--there was a moment of silence as I dropped into the pocket. Blue sky, blue water, hangover, perfect break, and I was on the face of this 2 foot wave (yeah yeah I know... 2 feet? but come on, that felt like a 6 footer you know... damn they always look bigger then they are) cutting right. The feeling was amazing. Everytime I get to a new plateau with surfing, I realize I haven´t surfed before that moment.

Takin´a break

The Crew

Needless to say, I was buzzing. The only downer was that late in the day some local kid committed to a ride when i was clearly paddling back out right in front of him. We made eye contact and everything, but I think he thought he had control... unfortunately for me, he grazed me and dinged my board pretty bad. Time for some epoxy. Little turd.

Well, this really is the home stretch for Tamarindo. About 10 more days of this and then time to relocate. So until then-- ¡Pura Vida!

Out of the woods and onto the beach

Hello all!

First of all, I apologize for the lack of entries. My internet connections have been spotty at best, and I have been loathe to go to internet cafes that charge by the minute. Luckily, tonight is a good night and there is connectivity! So to sum up since my last entry, San José was largely forgettable and the highlights for the capital were the anti-Bush graffitti and a stroll through a butterfly preserve. There were an amazing few the size of small dinner plates, slowly fluttering to and fro, wings drenched in iridescent blue. Most were smaller and of every hue you could imagine. The scene was reminiscent of something out of a tropical Secret Garden, with lush native flowering plants providing homes for the thousands of butterflies lazily winging about.

One of the denizens of the preserve, stopping for a photo-op.

The Halloween party consisted of me navigating a bumping discotech for yet another whiskey-coke. Sorry there aren´t pictures, but the camera was safely stowed as we stumbled around in the rain... Fun, but mostly expenisve and exhausting. Anyhow, right now I´m in a town called Tamarindo, in Guanacaste on the Nicoya Peninsula. It is beautiful and touristy, and totally relaxed.

So I have been here for about a week, and will be here for another 2 to brush up on my surfing skills. To that end, Cash and I have purchased two surfboards:

Exhibit A: Our funboards in our dorm. Cash rides the banana to the left and I´m on whitie.

We are staying in a hostel named, La Botella de Leche, or "The Bottle of Milk." The entire hostel has a cow motif, complete with cow utensils in the community kitchen, and white boulders with black spots lining the hostel walkways. The space is airy and colorful, and everyone who´s here is super chill. Cash and I got a special rate since we are staying 3 weeks here, so it is only costing both of us 12 bucks a night. Internet and community kitchen and t.v. included! The hostel is run by a fabulous Argentinian family, and the matriarch´s name is Mariella. She´s kind and goodhearted and makes the place feel as close to home as you could hope for out here in the world. Here´s a pic of the commons:

The girl to the left is Gunilla, a Swedish surfing pal and to the right is Wenses--the son of the hostel mother and a great guy to bullshit with.

Here´s the sign for the hostel, shaped after its namesake.

Upon closer inspection, you can see the cow here is tokin´a doob. My kinda bovine.

As you can see--totally relaxed and be-beanbagged to boot. So far Cash and I have been surfing the various playas together-- Tamarindo, and a little place called La Casita on Playa Grande. To get out to La Casita, you have to paddle out across a river that runs out of the rainforest and that is infested with caiman alligators. No shit--it makes for an exciting morning.

Other than that, I walk the beach a lot, practice my Spanish, relax during the amazing Tamarindo sunsets, drink copious amounts of beer, and I do a lot of cooking. A couple of times I have been to local discotechs to check out the nightlife. Amazing! The music here is so pumping. At this one place, the pianist was incredible. He sounded right out of Buena Vista Social Club. The percussionist was also amazing, and the whole place writhed as if it was an independent organism. Here, the music drives like a heartbeat: blue light, bongo rhythms, mambo steps, and bass hitting. The only downside is the premium price on drinks, so this kind of entertainent is necessairly limited.

Relaxing here at the beach has been a fulltime job for me. It is actually surprisingly hard to let go of the constant nagging your mind is used to enduring... It almost seems that my mind is encouraging that kind of mindset. I wake, with literally nothing to do but catch some waves, nap, and cook--but I am still finding that worry creeps in to harsh my mellow. Don´t get me wrong, it is a challenge that I feel totally blessed to take on, but then again, it is what it is.

So anyhow, here at the hostel my new found friends and I have been having a great time, and we´ve even started a dinner club of sorts, so in the evenings we are throwing together community barbeques. I am usually on cooking duty for these, so on any given night you can find me whipping up Spanish rice (thanks ma), or marinating chicken and fish. Also, thanks Sarah for your help in the kitchen--it has certainly proved to be useful here!

Here´s the dinner and surfing crew from the left to the right: Dave, a northern Cali contractor here for the surf, me, Cash, and a German couple named Christopher and Stephanie.

Believe it or not, I have also been brushing up on my trigonometry and have been having candid conversations about quantum physics and technological singularity with some hostel mates. Soon my friend Gunilla and I will also start training tai chi and sparring together on the beach--I look forward to that. So here´s to 2 more weeks on the Pacific!

A typical sunset here: just another day in paradise!

Okay all, I better get back to my tallboy of Pilsen and the sea of random conversation that only an international hostel can provide. Con gusto!

--dave out.