This is a little stream-of-consciousness string of journal entries from the week I spent in Tamarindo, Costa Rica. I won a trip from Fit & Fly Girl, a luxury women's fitness retreat company (if you haven't already, you need to go check them out).
I accomplished a few things on my wander-list:
36. see a volcano
40. soak in a natural spring
62. learn how to surf (This one is maybe halfway complete...I definitely need more lessons)
and I fell so in love with Costa Rica that I added this rather ambitious item to the list:
69. Live in Costa Rica for a year.
Currently on a plane to costa rica. What even is my life? I’m so broke I don't even know how I’m going to pay my rent this month, and I’ve won a luxury fitness getaway on a beautiful beach. The universe is toying with me, dangling all of my desires in front of me, knowing that there’s no way in hell I can afford them.
On the way to Tamarindo on a van with wifi and four women, sweet strangers with whom I’m going to spend my week. Two best friends and a mother & daughter.
Groves of trees, empty fields, rough-hewn wood fences laced with wire. The occasional bright yellow blossom. So many chickens. Skinny dogs. Laundry hanging to dry.
Cloud cover now, giving the trees a break from the direct heat. And looming in the distance, behind it all, grey-blue mountains. Gorgeous white cattle grazing, white chickens, little white goats.
I want to stop everywhere and let myself drink in every scene.
Today... I surfed! The sun burned and the ocean soothed. Soothing, sparkling, clean. The RICH COAST. observation or participation? Coast coast coasting and crashing and inhaling. the sea
wrinkling my throat. wrinkles in a smooth surface.
Went to the beach this morning at 5:45 with Elizabeth to watch the sunrise. Light touching the faces of the mountains, the rocks, skimming the surface of the ocean and the tide pools. Light touching me as if I am I part of this ecology.
There’s a haze in the sky over the ocean, the sun shining through it—prismatic.The birds dive head-first into the water, wings flapping, beaks open and ready.
LAST NIGHT. The drummer guy from the band called himself “chocolate” and I sat next to a Swedish girl named Isabel and the singer’s puppy. They were all very kind to me, took me out dancing. I rode on a stranger’s motorcycle.
Skim my surface. All I want are chance encounters, striking conversations with perfect strangers. The ocean. Whiskey. New places. Curvy girls wearing booty shorts and crop tops and ROCKING them.
If I lived here I could go anywhere. I could go to the ocean whenever I wanted. I’m also going to visit the ocean at night tonight for the last time. The ocean is undulating right now, impatient for me.
We are both pulsing with desire.
FRIDAY NIGHT in costa rica. Everybody dancing around and my head sits very still on my neck (for once). Maybe it requires chaos in order to calm itself into a state of quiet. Like a wave stopping in the middle of crashing.
People of all ages dancing on the stage here. The black cat hasn’t reappeared and all of the other cats I met have run away from me.
Drums beat faster and faster and faster than I can keep up, faster than my legs can run, faster than my heart expands and contracts. All of the lights spin purple, yellow, blue, green, red, and I only have four hours left in this country. An entire nation squeezed into a moment.
I want it to slow down. I want everything around me to spin a little slower so that I can distinguish the variety, the one from the other one from the other, this otherworldly breeze exhaling into the tendrils of hair curled around my ears, into my forearms, around my calves, over my lips.
I could live here...Spanish music everywhere I turn, lingering in my ears and vibrating in my back molars.
People my age dancing to streams of saxophone, actually dancing.
And above it all, this tree dripping vines and leaves and pulsing with lights...it’s impossible to keep still and yet here I am.
Still. Silent. Resisting sleep.
and I saw the black cat again, two hours before I left for the airport. He slipped into the outdoor bar, that little red ribbon around his neck.
and everybody said they’ve been in my position before, at 23, broke, and in lust with the world.
and now I go back to Ohio.
and everybody here shouts, sings, dances, radiates “PURA VIDA”. Pure life. Pure light. Sunshine sinks so deep into their bones that they can’t help but become it.