Costa Rica :: Part 22

This story is being told as a series. Here’s a link to Part 1

Part 22

I noted that none of that late night group — other than Ciro and Chucho — were taking the day’s excursion to Manuel Antonio National Park, opting instead to just enjoy a day relaxing at the hotel.

I had breakfast with Rose Marie and her daughter, as various other members of our group slowly straggled in. A tired-looking but still upbeat Ciro collected us. He may have been surprised how many of us had signed up for another long day of touring.

On the way, we saw enormous crocodiles resting on the river bank beside the bridge. It rained a good bit along the way to the park, but turned sunny, bright and hot as we arrived. It was perfect weather to walk in the shade of jungle — as usual for me, an experience that was one part wonder and one part jangled nerves — and then enjoy the picturesque beaches on the other side. A few hours later, it started to cloud over just as it was time for us to head back to the bus again. The rain began to fall in earnest again during our drive back, lulling us all to sleep. It trailed off to just a mild mist as we returned to the hotel. When we arrived, a bunch of the ladies and I sat in the pool area, having snacks and sipping margaritas.

Two tables away, Ciro and Chucho sat at a table with the other Majesta tour guide and bus driver combination, drinking cervesas. I pulled out my camera to take a quick shot of them. Just as I took the picture, the other tour guide turned and saw me take the picture. I turned back to the girls and we giggled like schoolgirls caught getting into mischief.

In the evening, I had dinner with Peter and Maureen, a friendly couple from New England. As we were finishing dinner, Rose Marie and her daughter came down and sat at the next table. I sat sideways to turn to talk to them too, inattentive to the effect of the damp on the floor tiles, or to the fact that I was tipping ever so slightly as I leaned forward. Of course, the margaritas earlier certainly didn’t help. As if in slow motion, my chair went out from under me. The wait staff seemed to be coming for me before I reached the floor and I was scooped up and redeposited on my righted chair — safely, if embarrassed — in one smooth motion.

After dinner, I freshened up, then went to wait for the live entertainment to begin. I sat for a while watching a children’s game — which I could not entirely follow since of course they were playing it in Spanish — then went over by the bar area to listen to the music. I waited just outside, where I could hear and see but would not feel any pressure to order another drink that I clearly did not need.

Besides, my alcohol-drenched mind was telling stories that even in that state I suspected were not true. That I wanted something to happen; that I would let something happen. If Chucho wanted to find me, I heard myself think, I wanted to be found.

Copyright © 2010


~ by lorakceel on May 19, 2010.

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