Saturday 8th
Today, like early gods, we all rested. The long day, strenuous activity and heat yesterday had exhausted all of us. After breakfast I wandered down to the beach for a couple of hours. It’s a nice one, especially if you catch it without people.
After lunch at the snack bar (which was conveniently down the hill towards the beach) I wandered back to my air conditioned room for a couple more hours. We met up around 7.30pm for pre-dinner drinks – dinner was to be at 9pm in the Oriental restaurant. I’d managed to book it on Thursday and Saturday at 9pm was the first available time for six of us. Took the opportunity to capture a sunset from my room.
At 9pm sharp, we six assembled outside the shared vestibule for the Oriental and Italian restaurants. I identified us, and showed them our receipt for the booking. But the receipt had mysteriously been put together with Sunday’s date, even though the reservation was definitely for Saturday because the man who does the bookings – a powerful holder of the master schedule who had already caused my brother Dave to nearly have his first coronary – was not doing Any bookings for the following week until Sunday morning.
So there we were. The Oriental restaurant staff had served their last meal for the evening, shut up shop and gone home. But not to worry. We were welcome to eat at the Italian restaurant tonight and could eat at the Oriental restaurant tomorrow night. Thus solving our immediate dilemma, plus our dilemma of where to eat on Sunday (not that we were worrying about that), and best of all, screwing with the powerful master of the schedule who still thinks we ate in the Oriental restaurant on Saturday.
This master of the schedule keeps his schedule on scraps of paper with lots of modifications, strike-outs and so on, while across the hall from him at reservations they could not even give me a map of the hotel grounds – I had to scan the QR code and punt from there. So, 19th century handling of restaurant reservations on one side of the hall and 21st century, equally inefficient, dealing with bookings and hotel maps on the other side of the hall. But everyone smiled and the bar was just across the way.
The Italian restaurant prided itself on maximizing use of cutlery. I counted three layers of fine china at my place before I got to the dish with the appetizers on it. But the food was worth this little silliness, and we enjoyed our evening. Tomorrow – back to the Oriental.
Sunday 9th
I think I am getting into a rut. Of utter inactivity. Today, got up late because we ate so late the night before. I spent some time on the beach before a late lunch. And wandered back to my room for a siesta. Then it was time to head up to the bar for drinks before dinner.
This time, the Oriental restaurant was ready for us and everyone seemed to enjoy their meals. I thought it was a bit disappointing compared to the Italian restaurant. Like, oriental cuisine was a bit beyond them. But my sashimi was tasty and the yom tom soup was delightful. The chicken pad thai had just a bit too much chili in it for me and heartburn was incipient, plus the sauce was thin. Still, not complaining, I have eaten much worse.
Dave made us a reservation for the grill on Tuesday.
It has slowly dawned on me that this is technically winter in Costa Rica (actually the dry season, to be followed by the wet season later in the spring). The daytime mid-30s temperatures with moderate humidity is tough to take when you come from -10. But summer temperatures are not a lot warmer. I’ve just scanned the rest of our time here and the weather will continue in the low to mid 30s, minimal showers, and dropping to the high 20s at night. Given that I have been bone lazy since our rainforest tour, I’ve come to the conclusion that my ability to deal with warmer weather has declined a lot in the last 20 years.
Monday 10th
Shit, I’ll be back in Muskoka in a week and I hear it is still snowing. Yet another absolutely lazy day today. Miraculously, if you know anything about my family, I was again the first person up for breakfast, although I think Dave had gone down to the beach before breakfast. I stumbled down to the beach myself after breakfast and found a recliner that was more or less in the shade.
This working hard to relax can become tiring! Today, Mike and Tanya had reserved a kayak for 11am, but the wavelets were considered too extreme for tourists by the kayak rental agency (aka two Costa Rican guys in black teeshirts and baseball caps that do not say Make America Great Again) so Mike and Tanya wandered off to find a swimming pool about the same time I arrived at the beach for my morning siesta.
After a while doing nothing I sat up and began to prepare to get in the water. This time I had left my hearing aids in my room, so I only had to remove a couple of items of clothing and stumble towards the water. It was pleasantly cooling to float around for a while, but I always begin to feel I am wasting time when I am in the water and not actually doing science. So after a while I got out of the water and walked the length of the beach. And it is a good beach, mainly because it is uncrowded and undeveloped. There is a small community of locals who hang out near the foot of the stairs from the resort offering massages, coconut drinks, bracelets, and kayak and sea-doo rentals. They are remarkably un-american, not pushy at all as they ply their various trades. Or maybe it is just that one look at me probably communicates that this one is unlikely to have any money with him at all. There are ample recliners, likely owned by the hotel, but nobody minds if you drag one half way down the beach to have it exactly where you need to be to have the full beach experience.
After a while, not having seen any more siblings, and having had my fill of morning beach time, I headed up the stairs and inspected each of the two pools for possible stray Sale relatives, peering in the windows of the snack bar all to no avail. And so, back to my room for a shower and head off to find some lunch.
Afternoon was initially spent flat on my back on my bed, too tired to do anything else in the heat of the day. Then further rambling, eventually finding some of my clan. We all met up for drinks around 7pm and then dinner. Along the way we learned that Dave had booked us in for dinner on Tuesday at the grill. (Actually we had learned this two days ago, but I had forgotten till now.)
Tuesday 11th February
We had decided on Monday evening that we would take the shuttle into Playas del Coco to look around and do some shopping. The ladies were like horses let out of the barn after being cooped up too long, And Dave and Mike seemed thoroughly into this excursion too. I was questioned carefully. Did I really want to come along? Well, I could not afford to miss Playas del Coco – a quaint coastal town – and maybe the shops would be interesting. So I was going to ride along. I even took my cobwebbed wallet out of my room safe, and mid-morning we all set off.
Prior to leaving the hotel, Dave had initiated negotiations with JJ to get us a boat for Wednesday. Hey, we are really picking up the pace!
That is JJ who gave us such a great experience in the waterfall and rainforest tour. Negotiations subsequently got complicated because we started with a sailing catamaran that could take 25 passengers, and as it became obvious that there were not 19 people interested in sharing a cat with us, we downsized to a 27ft fishing boat. It all got finalized sometime around mid-afternoon after we had returned from Playas del Coco. We each paid, and agreed that we would be on the beach between 7.30 and 8.00am the following morning for our 3-hour boat tour.
Anyway, back to our shopping trip.
At first glance the town of Playas del Coco is not much to look at. That general air of decay, with buildings held together with fencing wire or old boards and sheets of corrugated roofing. But the street was lined with shops selling souvenirs. Our van came to a halt and we were reminded twice to be back at that exact spot at 3.30 for the trip back to the hotel. Two blocks of little shops and some nondescript restaurants – I figured we would have time on our hands given it was about 10.30. Once on the street, I did a careful look around me so I would know where to come back to. And we scattered. I followed Sue and Tanya upstairs to an art gallery. There were some nice pieces, conventional tropical themes and not outrageous prices. But even the painting of the waterfall we had visited just days ago did not spur me to reach for my credit card. I admired. And left.
Next I went into one of the souvenir shops. The proprietor was clearly someone who believed you should display every item you have for sale. The place was a warren of shelving units that stretched far into the deep gloom away from the front door. And every square inch of every shelf was occupied. I have never seen so many fridge magnets. Or cute plaques with the phrase Pura Vida. When you see 500 plaques, each saying Pura Vida, it does not elicit the calming mood that expression is meant to convey.
I wandered into the next shop. Similar layout; similar merchandise. In fact, if I did not know that I had emerged from the first shop and then entered the second, I would not know that I was now inspecting the fridge magnets in a different emporium.
I went to a third shop. Really getting the hang of it now. Multiple separate realities, all monotonously the same, and side by side along this strange street.
And then I saw them. The bottle openers. Each of the several dozen on the shelf was of wood, quite substantial, and carved to represent a penis. No humor here – there were not short fat ones and long thin ones, ones with kinks, ones that curved up or curved down. Just a large number of more or less similar, quite sizeable wooden penises painted with fetching designs, tattoos perhaps, or to be more or less realistically human.
I subsequently noticed that these penises were present in most of the shops. And, back at the hotel, Tanya reported she had seen one proprietess, busily dusting her set of penises with a large feather duster that she held at arms length while looking elsewhere. Perhaps what is most surprising about the penises is that they were the only risque objects in any of the shops. Even the slogans on tee shirts were quite suitable for children. Which raises the question: is somebody in Costa Rica exploring the possibility of a future X-rated set of curios by putting these bottle openers into shops to see how they sell? Or does Costa Rica have laws explicitly forbidding all sorts of risque display but somehow forgot penises? Or is it just my twisted mind fixating on something not worth fixating on?
I found this image on Reddit taken by someone visiting Costa Rica, and the internet suggests that penis bottle openers are a near-worldwide trend in tourist junque. You learn something every day on the World Wide Web.
I am still kicking myself for not buying one. It would look so good on a buffet spread next New Years.
Eventually I tired of the shops. Wandered back towards our starting point and began looking for stray siblings. It was time for lunch and we found each other and then found Claudio and Gloria. Well, actually, it was Claudio y Gloria, an open-air restaurant, right on the beach, with cold beers, and a place right next door where you could have your feet nibbled by fish, if you’d prefer that to you nibbling at fish. Food tasted great.
Next, some of us wandered briefly on the beach before they all went back to shopping.
Like, maybe there would be an absolutely unique fridge magnet, shaped like a bottle opener. I let them go, but did wander into one of the shops and purchase a bracelet and necklace, strictly male jewelry, for me to wear now that I am officially entering my second childhood. The shuttle arrived shortly after. Freda returned from her fruitless hunt for stamps for postcards that would reach their destinations sometime after Freda got home and told everyone about her trip.
The journey back to the hotel was uneventful, and we all assembled for drinks before proceeding to the poolside venue for the grill. Food was great. I seem to remember having seared mahimahi or something like that. And it was probably about that time that I reflected on the fact that I was imbibing way more alcohol, chiefly as tequilla or red wine, than I usually do. Thought about this for a while once back in my room that evening. Decided there was no reason not to keep on doing so for the rest of the trip.
Wednesday 12th February
Early breakfast today. On the beach by 7.45am. I saw a small fishing boat coming in towards our beach and suspected it was coming for us. It was a 27ft, typical fishing boat powered by a single outboard, center console and comfortable cushions on the forward seating around the gunwales. Our group was expecting something bigger.
Indeed, I had myself expected something with two motors and a proper, if small, swim deck between them. This was important because Sue in particular has some mobility issues, and our average age is somewhere in the early 70s.
Dave said, “This is not what we agreed to” and headed off up to the resort grounds where he could get a wifi signal and contact JJ. Freda said, rather quietly, “the paper I signed said 27ft fishing boat”. We were standing with the captain and mate beside a 27ft fishing boat in an embarrassing game of avoiding eye contact and minimizing conversation.
Eventually Dave and JJ appeared. JJ showed us the picture of the boat which he had showed us yesterday – this was not a 27ft fishing boat, this was the exact 27ft fishing boat he had a photo of. JJ, the mate, and Sue clustered around the stern while the process of embarking and disembarking was explained. Sue practiced, placing her foot on the minimalist step jutting out from the transom, and hauling herself over the transom and into the boat. The guide promised that we would not have any mid-water exits and entrances, which would have made things considerably more complicated (and which told me we were going to be snorkling from shore). Eventually, with much smiling and agreeing and apologizing all round, we boarded the boat and set out on our tour. And to her credit, Sue clambered gamely in and out just as often as the rest of us during the tour.
Memo to JJ (which I quietly conveyed that evening) – when you are describing the fishing boat to people who may have difficulty jumping on and off small boats, it would be good to be very clear about the challenges. And especially, when you are initially describing the amenities of a 59ft catamaran, And you downsize to a 27ft fishing boat, be doubly sure that your clients have made the adjustment in their own imaginings of ‘tomorrow’s excursion’.
Through all of this I was kicking myself for the failures of my hearing system which had meant that I could not fully take part in the initial discussions and perhaps ensure that when we walked down to the beach this morning we were actually expecting the vessel which arrived.
So, apart from the rough start, how was our boat trip. It was great. The Captain kept the speed down so we were not jostled about. We had ample shade, and water and some of the juiciest pineapples appeared just when they were needed the most. And the mate was a fount of information about the places we visited.
The captain, not quite so fearsome a person as he appears in this hoodie, and his mate. And up forward, the now-happy crew.
We started out, heading out of Golfo de Papagayo, and straight for a basaltic plug that rose column-like from the ocean, in the center of a mid-tide level bench, but otherwise in deep water. There were ample big fish around and we were treated to half a dozen manta rays jumping clear of the water. (I’m pretty sure they were eagle rays rather than mantas), but they were still of good size and leaping completely clear of the water.)
We then went around the head of the Papagayo peninsula into the embayment to the north of us.
Heading deep into this bay we eventually came to rest on a beach a lot like the one at the hotel, but minus the people. Purpose? To see the lava tube.
Sure enough, up behind this beach there was a pair of lava tubes, one of which snaked along parallel to the beach, emerging into bright sunlight on the other side of the small headland that ended our beach. The other, which was a bit shorter, proceeded back into the cliff behind the beach, and emerged into sunlight in another bay, presumably the bay on which the hotel’s beach sat.
We clambered around a bit and were duly impressed. Then back in the boat and back around the mouth of the bay, retracing our path except this time we stayed close to the shore north of the bay (the hotel was on the south side of the bay). A short distance in we came to a beach and again came to rest at the shore. Masks and snorkels were produced and we got in the water for a look at a small reef just off this beach.
This was a shallow-water, low-energy reef, predominantly of Pocillopora, a delicately branched and beautiful coral. Unfortunately, it was also a dead reef. I scanned intently, long enough to ascertain that there was no living Pocillopora that I could see on this reef. (Back on the boat, I asked the mate when it had been killed. He told me that two years ago it was a beautiful reef, but warm water and a bleaching event had killed it off. Now it was rapidly becoming an algae-covered rubble bank.)
The death of coral reefs is unfortunately a common occurrence these days. As I watched the various fish swimming about, noting the lack of butterflyfishes, and, indeed, of many others of the more brilliantly colored ones, I wondered about whether humanity will get its act together in time to save at least some reefs on this planet.bThe prospects for reefs do not look very good, and if anything we are further of achieving the goal of ceasing greenhouse gas emissions than we were back in 2016 when the Paris Accord was signed And the world was briefly optimistic.
Still, I am a scientist. The siblings enjoyed their snorkel (as I did mine). There were three large green turtles ambling about, and lots of different types of fish, including a number of large puffers and filefishes. Proof that the value of coral reefs for tourism does not end when they die. It persists so long as there are colorful, exotic creatures swimming about amid the ruins a bit like Palestinians seeking the homes they fled amid the ruins of Gaza, or Ukrainians in some of their devastated cities.
Following our snorkel, it was time for some of the juiciest pineapple I have tasted in a while, and then a leisurely ride further into the bay. Then across to the south side and back to our beach. Despite the unfortunate start, it had been a fun adventure.
Showers, a late lunch, time on the beach, and drinks before dinner. Another day well spent.
Thursday 13th February
Today was another lazy day. Breakfast around nine, no other family in sight although Freda joined me mid-way through. Today I tried an omelet for the first time. It was deliciously light. Should have explored this option earlier but they have been inconsistent in offering and the line-up waiting is often too long.
Then some time on the beach. And using my cellphone to capture pictures around the hotel and on the beach.
Managed some nice shots of the largest of the iguanas that live here. He frequents the patch of lawn at the top of the stair to the beach and along the cliff edge.
Others of the group have seen howler monkeys on the grounds but I have not had that luck, Coatis are around too, but again they have evaded my camera. The first night, two of them invaded Freda’s room but she guided them to her balcony and slid the glass door shut.
Today being the day after the full moon, we had what looked to be the peak spring tides. When I first got to the beach the tide was well out, and I realized how large the low-relief basaltic spur is that extends out into the bay just to the left of the stairs to the beach.
In the late afternoon, as I finished up my second beach time the water was lapping at the recliners pulled well up under the trees. That very wide beach gets submerged at least twice a month. (And as I write this I am reminded of some of my less aware neighbors who complain if the lake level fluctuates more than 3 inches during the course of the summer. Like, the government should not let that happen and somebody must not be doing his job correctly! Yes, I know a lake is not the ocean, but water, salty or fresh, does its own thing and we who like to be beside it need to recognize that it is up to us to keep out of its way, not the other way around!)
During the afternoon, all six of us were on the beach together in recliners lined up in a row. Dave went in the water for a while and commented that there were some tiny stingers -minute jellyfishes. I went in nearby but did not ‘discover’ them. Eventually, one by one we peeled off up the hill to meet up again for drinks before dinner.
This evening, our second-last night, we finally got to the disco. It’s a very small space, and we were the majority of the clientele present. But we had a live DJ, all kinds of strobing lights, a large video screen showing stuff from sometime in the 80s or 90s, and music with a pulsing beat that went in through your belly and radiated out from there. We bounced around for long enough for one more drink before calling it a night.
Friday 14th February
Last full day. Amazing how vacations seem to come suddenly to an end. By now I am into a well-worn rut. I went for breakfast around 9 not expecting to see any sibs, but sister Freda did appear as I was finishing my coffee. She had used my computer to check her email yesterday, and would use it to check in for her flight at end of today.
The fresh, beautifully ripened papaya continues to be the best item in the breakfast buffet. And by now I know the layout of the buffet intimately. Today it was the same old, same old, apart from the intermittent omlet station, and the rotation among the three dispensers of juice – orange usually, green juice, whatever that is, often, pineapple sometimes, iced tea – hardly a juice at all, and today watermelon water, a new offer which turned out to be surprisingly good. I chose a light meal for a change with fresh fruit and granola as the main.
After breakfast it was off to the beach for my morning sun bake and walk. After getting well warmed it was into the water for a short swim. The minute stingy things had decided to have a convention more or less in the middle of the part of the beach where most people swam. I managed to crash the convention just long enough to be stung all the way up and down both legs. Not too nice. I also got a sting from something with longer tentacles on my right wrist, but did not notice this until it began to itch on the way home and on Sunday.
The cnidaria are an amazing group of very distinctive creatures including corals, sea fans, sea pens, anemones, jelly fishes, the Portuguese man-o-war and the box jellies among others. They all have cnidocytes, those ingenious, harpoon-like stinger cells that no other phylum possesses. They vary a lot in toxicity, some simply feel sticky, while others feel like you walked into a bare wire carrying 220 volts. These little guys were sort of in the middle, a bit like most ants or perhaps the smaller native bees. They got me out of the water, but otherwise were not much trouble, except when they started to itch later. Something to remember Golfo de Papagayo by.
Dave and Sue would be leaving at noon – they were departing a day sooner than the rest of us. We managed to have lunch together before they boarded their shuttle.
Lunch back at the buffet restaurant. Soup again. They offer a soup with every lunch and dinner. Each has been different, all tasty, and I think I have had more bowls of soup this past few days than in the past six months. So good in the hot weather to take in liquids in yet another way.
Back in my room again, I found I did not need a siesta today. Which was just as well given that it was valentine’s day and my maid had decided to create an enormous towel swan on my bed and scatter hibiscus blossoms about. I’m sure she knew there was no lady living in that room, so perhaps she imagined that the swan might seduce me as if I were Leda. But the swan was Zeus in disguise, so was she imagining a gay dalliance with a god disguised as a swan, or did she just have pity on this unattached guy who might be so desperate he’d get it off with a folded up towel? I decided not to enquire further, but I left the towel swan on the bed until that evening when I gently transferred it to a chair, where it remained until I left.
Instead of a nap, I spent the early afternoon reading email and my book, plus doing a little preliminary packing. And then… back down the hill. This time I checked out the pools and found siblings at the small, quieter one with the swim-up bar. (Freda pointed out that nobody ever swims up to a swim up bar – they waddle or wade and then they stand or sit, partly submerged and drink the afternoon away.)
We, by contrast, reclined in the shade, alternately watching the other humans and the howler monkeys feeding and playing in the trees above. The monkeys were far and away more energetic than the humans, And yet, the similarities… There is no getting away from the fact that we primates are closely related.
At some point I wandered off up the hill to my room, checked in for my flight and then welcomed Freda, who admired the swan and then checked in for her flight. Then we ambled to the main building to meet up with Mike and Tanya for dinks before dinner.
After dinner, being it was our last night we went back to the bar for more drinks and a quick look into the disco (empty, on a Friday). The hotel was strangely quiet. Was it something to do with Valentines Day? Should I be spending time with my swan? We all wandered off to do some packing and go to sleep for our last night in Costa Rica.
Saturday 15th February
Today, I was again the first up for breakfast. And I managed to go down to the beach for one last walk. Then, final packing, and transport of luggage to reception. Final visit to the buffet (I could do it in my sleep now – even the ice cream hidden in the recessed freezer beside the coffee station.) Then official checking out, which involved nothing more than cutting the bracelet off my wrist. Then the shuttle. Then the airport.
Why did we all dutifully check in on line? We still had to stand in an interminable line along with everyone else to check in at the counter, drop our bags, make our way through security, and sit in the departure lounge until a late and rather disorderly boarding process commenced.
The plane left over an hour late. The ground staff treated this as a normal event. No ruffling of their relaxed approach. The plane arrived early. Had we flown through one of those ripples of space/time? I don’t know. But we got back to Toronto a bit before midnight. We had missed the serious congestion due to bad weather the day before. And we missed the chaos caused by a crash landing the day after. But I still did not get home until Monday because the snowstorm that greeted our return made driving the 400 impossible.
Only Canada to mix up a welcome home to make it damn clear that just because you have been in the tropics does not mean that winter is over. And to hell with what groundhogs have said. Despite the brutal return to reality, it was a wonderful trip and the siblings are still all talking to one another.
My car, which lives in a heated garage, is not used to this. And neither am I.