I decided to catch a bus to Playa de Samara. Kris and Julie, my hosts, had to go into town to get the truck worked on, so it was perfect. I got to the bus stop and only had to wait about 20 minutes. I sat in one of the little tiendas and had some coffee while I waited. I tried to ease drop on the old men next to me. Ya, Nope, still didn’t get all that; come again? Que? The bus ticket guy caught my attention. He was short in stature,about my height. But, his presence was comanding. His wild curly hair and his beard were just the cutest. He had a great smile and a lot of confidence without ego. We are gonna be friends, I thought. The bus came. I got on and took a seat. Next stop? SAMARA!
Samara is a beach about an hour south-west of Nicoya. The land scape on the way was dreamy. The rolling hills were painted with a scattered array of citrus, coconut and banana trees. Bob Marley and the Wailers were serenading me through my headphones. I was waiting for a herd of unicorns to stampede over the horizon at any minute. It was just that damn majestic.
The bus dropped us off around 830am, right at the edge of town. At first glance it was small. The street was narrow and souvenir shops were sewn in between the little eateries on each side of the street; ice-cream shop, souvenir shop, souvenir shop, tapas bar, regular bar, souvenir shop.
I obviously walked toward the beach. I had no intention to stay past 4 though; I had to catch the bus back to Nicoya. About 3 blocks in I saw a sign that said “Surf Hostel”. It had a bunch of signs, which caught my attention; reggae night, yoga classes, surf lesson, tide charts, etc. Just a plethora of information about the happenings in Samara. I climbed the ramp to the top of the stairs to inspect the place. It was very charming; airy and cool with a bohemian atmosphere. Their were benches with fluffy cushions draped with a kaleidoscope of tapestries. Stacks of surfboards were tucked in the corner for rent. The reception window was open but no one was there. I went back down following the stairs past the ramp to find the kitchen. Their were a couple busty, tan blondes sitting at the table. Miriam, the receptionist, guided me back up the stairs as I asked her a few questions about the place. She was very informative and her thick, Spanish accent had my full attention. She was a voluptuous, lusty blonde from Spain. Her words dripped into my ears as I hung on every word. I could have listened to her talk all day. She smiled and offered to sell me cupcakes and brownies that one of the locals had baked. And, well, I got a bunk for the night instead. It was 20$ with a locker and a towel and soap. Guess the bus was just gonna have to wait till tomorrow.
I tucked my things away in my locker and continued my journey to the beach. Their were a couple Samarians with carts selling fresh coconuts to drink for 500 colonies($1) along the way. I was famished. Miriam had suggested Soda Sheriff Rustic. It was on the right, right as you walked onto the beach entrance 5 blocks from the hostel. It was inviting and smelled great. It helped that the cute, local surfer guys were right there waxing their boards and getting prepped for lessons. So, I got eggs, rice and beans, pico and hot surfer dudes for breakfast; oh, and the beach too. I was happy.
I sat admiring the view for a while. The salty air had me in a trance. The waves were perfect, glassy sets; about chest high and just gliding solid to the left. The trees were hanging over the top of the restaurant , which created the most picturesque framed view. The shade was nice too. Although it was 9:30 am it was still pretty steamy. My food finally came. It was the perfect amount. Little mound of arroz con frijoles with fresh pico de gallo, 2 fried eggs and a couple of slices of fresh thick cut bacon! I was satisfied.
I finished eating and walked around for a bit. The town was a lot bigger than at first glance and over the night it would bring even more surprises. Restaurants were tucked into the landscape and little haciendas were scattered about with “rooms for rent” signs hanging in the trees. Motor bikes and ATVs zoomed all around, as I assume everyone was getting ready for the day to start. Their was a an organic shop, sandwich shop, real estate business and outdoor tapestry markets on this street. Nothing in Samara is tall, so things just tend to pop up as you are walking by. All the places are built into the trees. Making it quite lovely to enter. Every cove is a magical, sandy garden you are walking into and the Samaraian fairies come by with tasty treats and cold beers. BLISS!
I strolled back to the hostel. I purchased a $10 pair of swim suit bottoms and headed back up to my room. I switched my undies, grabbed my towel and hat and headed back to the beach. It was HOT. The sand was melting the 1″ tick layer of dry skin I have right off the bottom of my feet, and I had sandals on. Ok, they aren’t that bad, but I haven’t had a pedicure in some time. Thank you scorching sand dunes! I walked bout 1/4 of a mile down the beach. There were boats pulled up on shore waiting to take eager tourist out fishing and snorkeling. Good luck Becky and Bob! The boats were definitely out of inspection. The hulls looked like a patchwork quilt and the plastic tarp cover tied to a couple broken fishing poles didn’t seem too promising. But hey! PURDA VIDA, right?
The tide was coming in fast. I found me a spot near the tree line where I could perch up and bake my transparent skin into a nice toasty brown. The wind was picking up. The breeze was welcoming. I ran down to the water and I coud feel the ocean greeting my soul. It has been way too long Poseidon. Oh how I have missed your caress. I didn’t want to get out. This was the rejuvenation of a true love affair. But I knew I was gonna be able to dip back in. I went back to my towel and stared out over the crystal blue tide. I have been working on meditation lately. I sat up straight, crossed my legs, rested my arms and started to breath. I have been working on clearing my mind. Every time the sound of the waves would be interrupted by some random thought, I would just think about the sand and the air and the crashing of the ocean just 4 feet in front of me. It was absolutely precious. I felt my soul connect to my mind and I went on a 5 min trip out in that ocean. I could feel the vibration. I was siting in the sand but my mind was swimming with the turtles. Then, some people walked by and it sucked me right back to reality. That’s what I am working on next. No distractions.
However, when I finally got off the beach, and back to Samara square, the night came with a distraction in the form of a Tatiana and tequila!
to be continued…