Waiting for the Last Wave – Santa Teresa Costa Rica

I will gladly enjoy the pool, the shady path to the beach, the smart industrial designed overpriced room, the air conditioning and the endless playlist of electronic music. Such is the life at this new generation of hostels. International spoiled brats on holiday or gap year, surfers, goddesses holding space and Envision festival goers. They can’t clean up their mess in the kitchen, they can’t even get their dirty dishes into the sink or garbage into the can. They buy ice and fill the freezer with it. Not surprisingly not one of them has talked to me. They are all staring at their phones. I may have seen a few people actually working, digital nomads perhaps, or maybe they might just not be able to live without their MacBook Pro for a few weeks. 

I park myself on a lounger near the pool and under an umbrella. I’m reading Anthony Bourdain’s, Medium Raw and laughing out loud. 

I’ve been here for days, same chair, same side table. I wear the same bathing suit every day. It’s called a classic bikini, you know the kind that actually covers your ass cheeks, but nonetheless still a bikini. 

It is possible that I may be over dressed. I’ve learned that a cover up is some kind of a shirt that covers your belly but still allows your ass to hang out. I can’t understand why all the skinny bitches do not have tan lines and I wonder where all the fat girls hang out. 

Everyday about 4pm I head to the beach because “surfs up” for the evening high tide. We watch as dozens of surfers are waiting for the last wave. We watch the sun go down. It is always amazing. It is always miraculous. 

I’ve learned that surfers are in g reat shape and there is plenty of scenery poolside. Last night while eating a deliciously flavorful wok creation on a busy dusty beach road I heard a reggae version of a Dave Brubeck classic. I knew that perhaps it was time to head back home, the place where my house is, the place where my car is and a smattering of friends. 
Next Stop: Home but just long enough to regroup and head out on a road trip for a few weeks. 

Montezuma Costa Rica

We were skeptical about leaving Sámara, but we had to see other places in Costa Rica. We head farther south and after a few hours drive on some pretty rough roads and driving through a couple of rivers we arrive. The street our lodging is on is narrow and steep so the driver lets us off at the bottom of the hill. 

Montezuma with its rocky beaches and big undertow is quite picturesque, along the shore and the actual town which is functional at best is about two blocks long. There are a few beach bars, a few street vendors selling handmade bracelets, some restaurants, a variety of lodgings and a grocery store. There is an ATM machine but more times than not is isn’t working. 

We hiked to see a waterfall just south of the town. After scrambling over rocks and a couple of tricky spots using ropes we came upon this! We swam in the cool waters below the falls. We hoped that those hiking up the actual waterfall did not fall and die. Apparently it happens many times each year, one way to cull the herd.

We walked along the beach today. The day before I had walked as far as I thought I could go before having to scramble over the rocky shoreline. Today we took a closer look and saw an easy path hidden from view. This path led us to a new beach where a small waterfall created a perfectly cool swimming spot. Natures original infinity pool. There was a memorial of stacked rocks for Nicolas Wessberg and Karen Morgenson. 

A little slice of history. A love story. Nicolas Wessberg and Karen Morgenson came to Costa Rica in 1954. Karen had a dream where she saw themselves living in a tropical paradise. In Montezuma they found the land she had seen in her dream and they bought a piece of land. Their farm was located on the northern end of Montezuma beach, near today’s Nicolas Wessberg Nature Reserve. They built a simple thatched hut, right in front of the beach. The thatch is long gone and Karen’s cabinas which she ran after her husbands murder are also gone. There story remains and their conservation work established national parks in Costa Rica.

At the end of the day, what I will remember from this place is the roosters crowing, the howler monkeys roaring and the white-throated capuchin monkeys. The roosters never stop, the howlers roar in the trees all around where we stay and the capuchins while entertaining are actually aggressive. Apparently they think they own all the bananas in the world. 

Howler Monkey
Capuchin Monkey

Here is a short video of the capuchins.

Next Stop: Santa Teresa, Costa Rica

A Good Place To Get Lost

A friend of mine told me she once got lost for a time in this place. I thought I might like to do that too. We left the “lets make party” town of Tamarindo after two days. That was enough for me. We took a van shuttle to Sámara and after a few short hours we were fairly certain we could spend a good amount of time here. 

We got a cheap room behind a beach bar and restaurant. It came wth a shared kitchen, hammocks, beach chairs in the shade and all the dogs we ever wanted to hang out with and all right on the beach.  We decide to stay here until they kick us out. We end up staying two weeks.They do not kick us out. We could have easily stayed here the whole time but we want to see and experience some other places in Costa Rica. 

So many dogs and all pretty well cared for. Every dog that runs by me I say is my favorite but these two really are! Augie the puffball puppy we fondly call chewy because he bites our feet. The other dog we call whiskers who somehow managed to get up on the roof the other day. These guys help me remember the beach dogs in Mexico many many years ago. Who knew sitting in a beach chair at night in Costa Rica, listening to music with your eyes closed could be so dangerous? One big BAM to the head with a soccer ball later, I knew. The shock, adrenalin, bloody nose, broken glasses, small cut on eyelid, bruised and swollen but ever so lucky.  If you know me you know I hate that word but it somehow seems appropriate in this case. Good thing  I have carried spare eye glasses in my backpack always. It has proven to be a smart move.

Love these cabinas located at the beach bar property but we usually refer to them as scorpion huts. Thatch roof not necessary. I’ll take the cinderblock room behind the bar. 

Some mornings the horses from the next village take a little beach run all on their own. They stop by the outdoor shower for some tasty grass. 

Surf’s up twice a day. 

Why would we want to leave?

The next beach over is beautiful Playa Carrillo. Picture postcard perfect. 

Next Stop: Montezuma, Costa Rica 

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