Sunday, June 28, 2009

Rickey's Costa Rica Travelogue: Part II

Day 4. We still haven’t adjusted to the time difference and keep on waking up at 5:30 in the morning and going to bed at 9PM. Who the hell gets jet lagged from a puny two hour time difference? (The Hendersons, that’s who).

Departing from Liberia, we head towards Playa Hermosa, a gorgeous beach resort town on the Pacific coast. Driving west, I’m struck by how much flatter the land is here. It’s almost like the Serengeti—squat trees punctuate vast fields and large mountains loom in the distance. The car GPS does a decent job with straight roads, but once you venture off them, things quickly devolve into a greek tragedy. There are lots of unmarked rutted dirt roads here that the folks at Garmin have absolutely no idea how to classify. But on the plus side, the GPS does helpfully alert you whenever you’re about to cross over a speed bump. I wonder who the miserable schmuck is who has to drive around every country marking speed bumps on satellite maps. That poor bastard definitely drew a karmic short straw. One could safely assume that an ancient ancestor of his raw dogged Magellan’s daughter.

We’re settling in for seven days in Playa Hermosa at a lovely resort known as Villas Sol. It’s one of those all-inclusive packages that removes all worries and replaces ‘em with unlimited drinks, helpful smiles, and terrific spreads. Mmmmm, the white man’s burden never tasted so good. The resort is built entirely on a sloping hill with levels upon levels of houses with of cylinder clay tile roofs—the kind that Buster Keaton would scramble up on and cause an avalanche of roofing materials to cascade down after him. Looking at how vertically situated everything is, I try my damndest not to let the word “mudslide” enter my vocabulary. We’re just a short hike from the beach. I probably won’t be updating much over the next few days since essentially all there is to do here is relax and enjoy the incredible views. By no means is this a bad thing.

Promptly after checking in, we make for the beach with due haste. The sand is a black volcanic ash color that stains the skin and massages the feet. Looking for a spot to set up camp on the beach, we’re quickly accosted by an ex-pat named A.J. selling timeshares. He hands us two scratch off cards and informs us that if we scratch off three monkey symbols, we get a free car rental for a week. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that this guy was working on commission. I swear these people would give up their first born for an opportunity to sell a condo. Uh, thanks but no thanks bub, the Hendersons would like to purchase a home stateside before they seek to expand their international realty holdings.We spend a while at the beach marveling at our surroundings. The surf is gentile and the sunbathers are friendly. We pick up our books and let the sun soak into our lanky Yankee bones. A guy wheels a cart down the beach selling cerviche. After careful deliberation, I decide to let my stomach settle with the normal local fare before diving into a cup of raw marinated fish (if no blog posts appear for a few days midweek, you’ll know why—I’ll have sampled cerviche and Erika will be attending to my foodsick stricken carcass).

There’s actually a good deal of stuff to do here. Tomorrow we’re doing pretty much the same thing: heading back to the beach followed by some pool action, but on Monday we’re going snorkeling. Tuesday is sailing. Wednesday is kayaking. In case you hadn’t already surmised, rolling Hendersons gather no moss. Back in a few days with updates.


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David said...

Glad to hear things are going swimmingly.

Smitty said...

Idyllic. Minus Indiana Jones-style creeping insects, I hope the rest of your trip is a wonderful. Looking forward to more updates!

Toasty Joe said...

I believe it's "ceviche," not "cerviche." Ya gringo fool, ya.

Haley said...


Or as I call her more often than not "YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE!"

Anonymous said...

My country roads take me home.

eddie brown
Free Satellite TV

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