Costa Rica – Day 2 – Chill…..

So, my roommate during this trip was my good friend Melissa.

Melissa and I have been friends for 5 years now. We met in LA, and immediately bonded over some commonalities: 1) We are both surgical nurses (I work in the Operating Room, she works in Recovery), and 2) We are both utterly retarded and completely hopeless when it comes to dealing with members of the opposite sex.

However, despite these commonalities, on this trip Melissa and I remembered that we have one really big difference, too - we are thermostatically incompatible.

Yes, it was bloody hot in Costa Rica - I will admit that. But Melissa cranked the air conditioning in our room down to 60 degrees, turned on the fan that was above our bed, slept with no covers on - and was still complaining that she was hot. And there I was - poor little Courtney - sleeping in flannel pajama pants, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, socks, and completely wrapped in the blanket. It was quite the ridiculous scenario, I tell you.

Anyway, despite our temperature differences, Melissa and I both crashed that first night. And we slept in the next day. And it was soooooo great.

Since we had had kind of a crazy and stressful time getting to Costa Rica, the group decided that we would just take it kind of easy and have a chill first day. And what is the most chill thing one can do in an equatorial Central American country? The beach, of course!

A couple of the guys in our group had woken up at 5:30 (?) that morning to surf. They told the rest of us that they had found a really awesome beach, located kind of in a harbor,  that we should check out. So, we threw on our suits, hopped in the cars, and drove there.

Soooooo, the beach - she was nice. Only one problem, though. It was now high tide. And the shore - she was now an island. If we wanted to get to the nice beach, we were going to have to swim across a river for it.

No problem. Yes, the distance to the other side was a little wide, but the water couldn't be too deep, and the current seemed pretty docile. My friends Mark and Tanya crossed first, holding their beach bags above their heads, with little effort. Next, my friend Lindsay and I crossed. I was swimming backwards, with my head bobbing just above the surface, holding the mesh bag with my beach items securely above it. It actually wasn't that bad. The water was deeper than I'd expected - too deep to touch the bottom. But it wasn't overly strenuous to cross.

Until the current picked up. Which was when I was about halfway across the river.

Now, I fancy myself a pretty good swimmer. I was raised in San Diego, and spent much of my childhood on the beaches of North County. But my swimming capabilities apparently drop dramatically when I am fighting a strong ocean current holding a ridiculously huge bag over my head.

Lindsay and I started drifting downstream, away from the rest of our friends. As I struggled against the current, I looked back at the rocky shore where I had first started. Since my embarkment, some locals had gathered - and they now were pointing and laughing at Lindsay and me. I could almost hear them now, mocking the silly, ignorant, American females who had actually tried to swim across the deep river - during high tide no less - to reach the beach shore. Looking back, it probably wasn't the smartest idea.....but it made sense at the time.

Well, Lindsay and I did eventually make it across. But it wasn't easy. And we were waaaay downstream from where we were supposed to be. And let’s just say that my beach bag was no longer above my head by the time we reached the shore. Yeah, I completely ruined my copy of "The Host."

Everybody else in the group was able to hitch a ride across the river in a motorboat that suddenly decided to show up. Yeah, apparently one of the locals saw an opportunity to make some money by charging everybody a dollar each to shuttle them across the gorge. And where was this helpful Samaritan when I was drowning, I ask you?

I didn't bring my camera to the beach (thank goodness), so I don't have any pictures of this ordeal. But I kinda wish I did. Or at least a video....

We spent the rest of the afternoon at two different beaches - the above-referenced one, and one that was further north. I  made a rookie mistake, though. Although it was quite warm outside, there was a thick cloud cover, making the weather seem really overcast. This lured me into a false sense of security when it came to sun exposure, and I did not reapply my sunscreen nearly as often as I should have. Boy did I pay for that. By the end of the day, I had turned a lovely shade of dark pink. And I am sure that if my mother had been there, she would have lectured me ad nauseam for these capricious actions. (When my sisters and I were kids, she used to lather us with Bullfrog sunscreen and make us wear t-shirts at the beach. Do you think that that could be considered child abuse?)

That night, we all went out to dinner at a restaurant called "El Avion." Translation: The airplane. Strange name for an eating establishment, I know. But the restaurant was built around an actual old WWII airplane.

They even used one of the wings as the bar counter. Kinda funny.

So, the picture below (taken at the plane restaurant) is one of my favorite from the whole trip.

It may not look like much to the outside observer, but it is the implication behind the photo that I love.

Melissa HATES having her picture taken. And, as previously mentioned, I am a photo whore. I am constantly seeking out the perfect shot, and will keep snapping away until I get it. Well, I was trying to get a cute picture of Melissa and I with our matching Pina Coladas, and I just couldn't get one that I liked. Finally, 15 shots later (I know, I need help), I did. Later, when I was looking through all the discards, I came upon this picture and busted up laughing at Melissa's expression. She looks like she is literally being tortured. I can just see it in her eyes, a cry for help - "Save me, please, from this flashbulb-obsessed maniac!!" She is such a good friend to put up with me all the time.

When we got home, we discovered that we had a little visitor.

A 7-legged one, to be precise.

Yup, in Costa Rica, they grow everything big – including insects. Once spotted, this little intruder evoked much screaming and pointing and running from our little group. Jonathan decided that he would try and catch it humanely, so that he could release it back into the wild from whence it came.

Yeah, that was a good idea in theory. Excepting that he tried to catch it using a bread basket full of gaps. Nice, Jonathan.

Spidey was eventually captured and set free, but it was not without much effort and drama – and noise, from the terrified bystanders.

Well, that is it for Day 2. Phew! I promise that the next few posts will not be such novels!