It finally came: my first real vacation. After five and a half months of chasing kids, writing lesson plans, and putting myself in extremely uncomfortable situations, I got a chance to relax. This past Friday was a national holiday: Annexation (of Guanacaste) Day. This day celebrates the annexation of Guanacaste (northwest Costa Rica, arguably the best province in the country) from Nicaragua. This translates into a Fourth of July like party involving traditional dress, dance and food. More importantly for me, it meant a day off and a free night out of site. Therefore, my friends Casey, Julie, Hillary, Meaghan, Mario and I headed north to join in on the partying.
Our first stop was the City of Liberia. Liberia is smack-dab in the middle of and is considered the capital of Guanacaste; it also happens to be Hillary’s site. Hillary met Casey, Julie, Meaghan and I at the bus stop and promptly led us to the Liberia Festivals: the epicenter of a province locked into party mode. The Liberia Festival is comparable to a county fair; there are food booths, carnival rides, bars, concerts and rodeos. We strolled through the grounds in bliss; we were happy to see each other after being isolated for so long. We were also excited by the fantastic food. I immediately grabbed one of my favorite Tico foods: grilled meat on a stick. In another world, one might call it a shish kebab; here, it is meat on a stick. Some got pizza. But the best part of any carnival or fiesta in Costa Rica was enjoyed by all: the churro. For those of you who don’t know what a churro is (if you don’t, I feel sorry for you), allow me to explain. A churro is a deep fried roll of hollowed out batter the size and shape of a foot long hot dog. The churro is covered end to end in cinnamon sugar, and often times infused with dulce de leche. Even though the pastry is vividly phallic, we all ate unbashfully. Ahhhh, churros.
With our stomachs full of carnival food, we moseyed on over to a bar to make a very important toast. With bottles of cheap Costa Rican beer, we celebrated Casey’s birthday and made our own little Liberia Festival. We clinked glasses and slapped each other on the back, high on the anticipation of our vacation. When we were finished, we walked out into the sun and heat to get back to the bus station. It was time to make our way to the coast.
Keeping with Tico tradition, what should have been an hour long bus ride took three. We groggily disembarked from the bus in Playa Brasilito to be roused by the smell of the ocean in the air. We got directions to our hotel from a local and began walking. With each step, the sound of crashing waves on the shore became clearer. As we approached, I realized that our hotel was on the beach, and that I would be sleeping a stone’s throw from the water. If that wasn’t enough to make me smile, waiting for us was our good friend Mario. He was with three people I had never met having drinks on the oceanfront patio. I dropped by bag, hugged him and looked out onto the darkness of the Pacific Ocean. “Welcome to paradise” he said.
We checked into our rooms, went out to the patio, and introduced ourselves to Mario’s friends. Mikey (an interesting name for a girl) is a Habitat for Humanity volunteer working on a new community in Cartago. A fantastic couple was with her visiting from Guatamala. The couple was in Guatamala for the summer making a documentary on coffee growers and the complex economics that go with the trade. The three were interesting, fun, and added a great dynamic to the trip. It is always nice to meet interesting people on vacation.
We took dinner on the patio. Casey received a steady flow of birthday drinks, and eventually retired early with Julie (his girlfriend). The rest of us were drawn to the ocean and took a walk on the beach. While there was talk of skinny dipping, we simply strolled in the darkness. I was taken aback by how many stars I could see. In the Puerto, all you can see is the orange reflection of lights in the night sky. In Brasilito, we could see everything, even the cloudy light of the Milky Way.
The next day, we woke up at six am and ate legitimate breakfast food on the patio. Banana pancakes, French toast, omelets; it was fantastic. Hillary and Julie were doing well on their “no rice and beans” weekend. After breakfast, we packed our beach bags and started the one kilometer walk to Playa Conchal. Conchal is hidden and difficult to get to. We walked south along Playa Brasilito until we came to a headland into which a path had been cleared. We passed through a tunnel of trees and tropical plants and emerged with gasps and wide eyes.
The empty white beach went on forever into the horizon, flanked by clear water. Palm trees bent over the beach, as if kneeling to honor it. The clear water gave way to a clean blue that I have never before seen in the ocean. The beach itself is made of billions of pieces of crushed shell, hence the name Conchal. We removed our sandals, caught our breath and walked along the beach until we found a private tree cove. I knew that places like this existed from travel magazines and postcards, but could not believe that I was actually there. It was so striking that I had to thank God for making such a place, and providing me with the opportunity to see it. After taking it in, I ran toward the water like a little kid, and dove in.
We spent the day absorbing the strong Guanacaste sun, swimming and snorkeling. Mario and I rented snorkels and walked over to a shallow pool protected by an outcropping of rocks. After pressing our masks to our faces, we jumped off the rocks and took a look. Florescent tropical fish were everywhere. I had only seen such fish in tanks at the aquarium in Coney Island, and in Finding Nemo. Speaking of which, I found Dory a few times and said hi. She kept forgetting my name, so avoided her and met all of the other fish.
That evening, we showered, ate and sat on the beach to watch one of the best sunsets I have ever seen. The horizon was free of clouds, but luckily there were some wisps distributed throughout the rest of the sky. The beach is in a horseshoe shaped cove, with tiny uninhabited islands popping up on the horizon like fingers. As the sun lowered in the sky, the foliage covered headlands of the cove turned mango, then pink, then violet. The islands, and then the tips of the horseshoe became silhouettes. The backlighting hid any blemishes the scene may have had, and enhanced the texture of the beards of trees on the islands. The afterglow lasted late into the evening as we sipped rum from plastic cups on the beach.
The next day was more of the same. We took a taxi five kilometers north to Playa Flamingo. Flamingo was actually better than Conchal if you can believe it. There was white, powdery sand and clear blue water. Manta rays jumped into the air and surfed waves right next to me. At one point while I was swimming, I looked down into the clear water to find one at my feet. Remembering the terrible fate of Steve Irwin, I jumped away from him, and he did the same. However, being so close gave me a chance to get a good look at him. He was the color of desert camouflage and floated on the ground like a flying saucer; a truly beautiful animal.
The next day we all traveled back to our sites, tan and exhausted. While I did not like leaving such a beautiful place, I am glad to be back at my site. After a good vacation, I feel recharged. And while times here in Puntarenas may be wet, smelly and difficult, I can always remember that the white sand and clear water are only a bus ride away.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
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