the smoking (but invisible) Volcan Turrialba. closed for business.
camping in the dreamy El Spino Blanco: sodium lamps, pretty wooden cabins and a singing forest to lull you to bed under the mosquito nets. and the one mother spider that very nearly had us sleeping in the car. everyone's got a line that can't be crossed.
white water rafting down the Pacque River. don't look at me, Pablo - i'm just as lost as you are. forward. left back! left back, right forward. stop!
late-night escape out of the mountains after excellent seafood and not nearly enough coffee. only me, In Rainbows and the rigs. and not a second too soon in Puerto Limon. don't run over the giant crabs crossing the highway to Puerto Viejo. a sweaty sleep in the car by the beach. seat back, windows down. but not too down. waves crashing in every direction. even in my dreams.
rising with the surfers. a cloudy haze in Manzanillo and the tastiest bbq chicken you've never eaten. don't leave the sking. no cocoa tour, but a chocolate espresso and, finally, monkeys in the trees. an angry, confused ocean. riptides. bodies and boards. coming and going.
pura vida.
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