We arrived in Tamarindo on the Pacific coast a little before noon. Evie, Tom, Leah and Karen had left Nuevo Arenal around the same time as us, but they were planning on stopping for some groceries before picking up the keys to our new home away from home. That left us with time to kill, and for me, that always means time to chill at a restaurant/bar. And today, it would be an oceanside restaurant/bar.
Arriving at Casa Banyan we were mistakenly feeling a little let down. Having just stayed four days at the eco paradise on Lake Arenal, it would be difficult not to feel that way. But these feelings were short lived as we settled in to our little beach house.
The interior of the house was nice, spacious, not glamorous, but very functional. Beth and I were fortunate to draw the long straw and opted for the private poolside apartment complete with its own kitchen and dining area. Unfortunately, we didn’t think enough to take some pictures inside.
Outdoor covered sitting area above the poolside apartment
The grounds outside were quite spectatular. Colorful tropical plants and different types of palms lined the pool and the perimeter walls making us feel quite secluded. And, just outside the rear gate was… the beach.
Because our casa was situated about a mile from the main strip of Tamarindo, it seemed necessary to get us some transportation that was a little more appropriate than the big SUV.
No, not an old VW bus. But that would have been pretty cool.
Nearly everyday all 7 of us would cram into the 6 seat electric car and head into town for lunch, dinner or some shopping. Although a few meals were prepared and eaten at our casa, we usually took advantage of the great oceanside restaurants.
It would be uncommon if a dog didn’t join you for a meal
Always with rice and beans
Our final supper together
Guess what Beth found…. taco stand! Eat My Taco!
Most mornings the others opted to eat breakfast at our place; Beth and I had other plans. Each morning, after a swim and some coffee, we hopped in the “scooter” and cruised down to Joe’s Surf Diner for huevos racheros, waffles and fresh fruit. The food was good, coffee was great, and atmosphere, fantastic.
Over several days of going into town or just hanging out on the beach, through observations and perhaps some prejudices, my mind seemed to have lumped all of the people into 3 categories: The resident Ticos; the young ex-pats (sometimes old ex-pats); and, of course, the tourists. For some strange reason, the tourist seem to be the lowest on the hierarchy.
The young ex-pats all seem to have embraced the surfer lifestyle. Working in the bars and restaurants, or giving surfing instruction, they make just enough money to perpetuate living down in this tropical paradise. One might think that their lives were unproductive or lacked real world experience and education. I wonder if they might be doing life right. It’s difficult to not feel a little envious.
On our final day, I spent some time alone in the shade of a palm tree with the sand between my toes. I watched the neighboring surf school practice what they’ve learned on their longboards while contemplating deeper thoughts. It was a great opportunity to reflect.
Every morning here, I awoke before dawn as the light begins to take over the darkness. At 5:30, right around sunrise, it seemed nearly impossible to resist the call of the ocean’s waves. Okay, so I’m not out there with a freshly waxed board, but it was still enjoyable to bust through the breakers to reach the calm water and do a little meditative floating while gazing up at the morning moon.
During the later part of every morning, there had been very little reasoning and forethought as to what to do and when to do it. More swimming in the ocean? Sure, why not. A little floating in the pool before lunch? Certainly sounds like a good idea. Honestly, the only reason to have a look at the clock is to determine when it is acceptable to eat again.
Leah, “Hey, that looks like Uncle Douwe on horse!” Yup, walk into town; ride back on a horse.
Afternoons have been occupied by quick naps, long naps, a little reading, or perhaps some writing. Sometimes sun; sometimes shade. And almost always a couple more good soaks.
One of the things that the Pacific coast of Costa Rica is famous for is spectacular sunsets. And I, like most people, have an affinity for a beautiful sunset. Having sorted through a hundred photos of the westward sky, I narrowed it down to these few.
Every evening, the sun set sometime between 5 and 6; although the exact time, I never really verified. As darkness quickly reclaimed it place it seemed inevitable that within 3 to 4 hours our bodies were telling us that it was time to sleep. “Good Lord, its only 8:30!”
At home, the enumeration of time is most important. We have jobs to do, schedules to keep, and places to be. In this place, time, the numbers on the clock, seems to have little importance. Eliminate the stress and our internal clocks revert back to a solar time table. Every day we spent in Costa Rica followed this pattern and, yes, I kind of liked it.
Pura Vita!
