Havingagoodtime

A long story

Havingagoodtime is the answer to the question “Why hasn’t Kamie started the internship yet?” Blame it on the rum, the hotness, the color of the skin around me. Blame it on the Rainforest Alliance that has been too busy lately thus leaving me no other choice but havingagoodtime. A week ago I got an e-mail from them informing me that my supervisors will be out of office and out of town for a week due to seminars (which already sounds promising as I will be part of these seminars quite soon) So little Kamie had another week off in Costa Rica. One too many.
Ida and I decided to get away for a few days just to change the climate as San Jose was too god damn cold with its 25 degrees. In search for sunnier spots down the coast we took the deadly 7 hour bus to Santa Teresa, on the not-so-far-located-on-the-map Nicoya peninsula. The Pacific coast. My first one.

Seven hours sounds like pretty long and boring trip, right? Well, it was until we got to the mountains and the bus started swinging. Leeeeeffft. Riiiighhhhttt. Sorry, guys you are not allowed to sleep anymore! Not in Costa Rica – quickly stick your noses on the window pane and look. Look and absorb. Cause you’ve never seen anything like it. Mountain tops dressed in greenness. All-embracing steam. Backpackers-free zone. Then suddenly we stopped in front at a harbor. A quite cute little village harbor. The initial feeling of confusion grew into panic when the majority of the bus finally figured out that we have to get out. The panic quickly became anarchy as tourists wanted to know when and how are we going to continue. Bags, hands, red sun-burned cheeks, blue Scandinavian eyes looking for answers. Only the Ticos stood in silence mockingly watching this episode, while a few of them told me that we, the bus and the luggage will be transported to the other side of the peninsula by ferry. Its always easier when you know Spanish. And what a ferry, my friends! ....A huge boat on three levels transporting everything- animals, agricultural machines, local families, lonely-planet-ers and us - out 60 seat bus. The view was definitely worth it.

Arriving in Santa Teresa at 21:00 was anything but exciting. Especially as we found ourselves in the middle of a loooooong unpaved dusty road (it was not too hard to figure out that it is the only one in the village). Tired as dogs we had to face the fact that the high season had left no beds available for the two intruders. The last and only salvation from sleeping on the beach was Tranquillo Backpackers Hostel. On the way we stopped at an Israeli restaurant, had some humus and Maccabee beers. Not surprisingly, the only language was Hebrew (somebody somewhere told me that in Central America there are tree tourism season –High season, Low season and Israeli season (:D). Good times, my dears, Tico times.

So, after filling up ourselves with some quality middle east food and drinks we finally got to Tranquillo and guess what – no beds left! Thank God the good Argentinean guy at the reception agreed to locate us in one of the reserved rooms. Got my bed sheets, touched the pillow and fell into sweet tropical dreams. Well, not as tranquil in the end as the real tropical biodiversity of this lovely eco-lodge was shamelessly stinging, biting and blood-sucking me all night long. A real orgy. The sun came and with it a day and night of constant havingagoodtime.

There was a beach wide and sandy, trapped between the vastness of the Pacific Ocean and the dry rainforest. I stood there speechless, miniscule and imprisoned by my civilized nature, wondering why have we lost connection to our real home? Why are we destroying it? How could we kill beauty so magnetic? Life seemed so much simpler in a second. Just looking, I was so overwhelmed that I did not even want to take pictures. The surfers were filming their not so great at the moment achievements. The crabs were extremely shy hiding in the rocks all day – did not want to me meet the only Bulgarian in Santa Teresa. Big mistake!!! We overdosed with vitamin D and called it a day.

Beach house party in a small Costa Rican village. How about that? A great deal of the small- and big-scale house parties that I have visited during the last 2 years should be ashamed and head for the corner to ponder over their bad behavior. It started slowly with a few Cuba Libres (“ I just can’t get enough” ) a big bon fire on the beach and a few scattered Ticos. In an hour I had the feeling that the whole current population of the village – both locals and tourists – appeared from all sides. The DJ assumed The Position and the night begun. As for me, I let my delinquent habits to lead my way. As usual they knew what they were doing.

Pura Vida