Costa Rica - Out of the City

First, A Brief Conference Call
On Thursday night I switched to the fancy hotel by the airport so I could pick up the Dough that night.  Her flight was three hours late due to bad weather in Newark.  By the time she got in it was close to midnight so we crashed.  Next morning, I didn't go to the office - the benefits of technology - we "worked" by the pool...

I stared out onto the pool growing annoyed that my colleagues were going into minute details, in their halting English, especially on a Friday.  I told them to speak Spanish, thinking it might speed things up but no - they're just wordy.  I was itching to hang up and dive in.

After the calls and some swimming we checked out, loaded up the 4x4 and headed out of San Jose, west towards the mountains. We were going to make one stop on the way to our "hotel." near the Pacific.

We timed it so we'd arrive at a particular roadside "soda", which is the Costa Rican word for eatery.  As we winded our way up to a small town called Atenas the temperature dropped from a sticky mid-80s to the low 70s.  Our soda was of the usual variety from the outside - a bit ramshackle and downtrodden.

It's selling point, besides good food, became apparent as you walked in.

The open air seating with a view over the mountains all the way to the Pacific.  Dodo put her improving Spanish to use, poring over the menu.

A cool breeze was rolling up the hills, rushing past us and out the front door.  It's the first time I've ever felt cold in this country.

We both ordered "casados" which is the Spanish word for "married."

Nobody has ever given me a convincing explanation of why they call this dish "married."  It's rice and beans, vegetables, fried plantain and some kind of meat.  We both got chicken.  Quite delicious and ridiculously filling, especially since I'd eaten a breakfast that was similar to this a few hours earlier.

An hour of driving later, the last ten minutes of which were on a craggy dirt road, we arrived at our digs.  A giant wooden mushroom in the middle of a mango plantation, a few kilometers from the beach.  Our host, Andre, a retired French gentleman, stayed on the top of the shroom.  We got the bottom two levels.  There weren't any other humans around for miles, the last ones we saw were a selling granitas on the roadside.

The lower level is open-air with two hammocks fronting a small pool.  There is a kitchen, wood burning oven, bar and dining area behind the hammocks.  On the second level is a mini-apartment - one bedroom, bathroom, dining room and kitchen.  Andre designed the mushroom himself.

We tested out the hammocks and listened to the birds.  There were dozens of different calls.  A few parrots struggled by and countless other colorful birds I've never seen before flew from tree to tree.  Ditto the butterflies, they sauntered by in a procession of color.  Andre explained in a mix of French and Spanish (he doesn't speak any English) that the monkeys are usually in the trees, eating the mangoes but a few days a ago they left.  Later at night, to a soundtrack of crickets and cicadas, the entire grove lit up in a twinkle of fireflies.  

We took a quick drive to Jaco, the nearest beach town.  It's like any other beach town in the world, garish, loud, crowded, commercial, tacky - but it looked to be pumped up to a different level since there was a surfing competition starting the next day.  We parked on a faraway block near the beach and dipped in our toes.

I expected it to be cold but to my surprise it was like 30 minute old bath water.  Wonderful.