Greckles and Mariana: Last Day in Montezuma

23 December 2010

Greckles and Mariana: Last Day in Montezuma

I actually felt well rested when my alarm went off at 5:45 that morning. The sun was not quite up yet, but it was still light enough and the air was cool and clammy. I threw on my smelly and damp running gear, ate some energy Gu, and was on my way for a 14km run to the town of Cabuya and back. As I got to the stretch of the road that hugged the coastline, I had an amazing view of the sun rising over the horizon of the ocean. It was a fiery orange orb hovering just midway between ocean and sky. The air was still and colorful. It was starting to get hot though.

It was a challenging run along the dirt road. There were steep hills and it felt that even the flatter areas were a steady incline. The humid was palpable even early in the day and my skin was beginning to chafe as I went on. I saw a tree sloth on the side of the road; he didn’t pay me much attention. Most of the surrounding area was rural with farms and emaciated cows chomping away on grass. The locals were beginning to wake up and heading off to work. Hotel owners stood on the side of the road and watered the dirt road in front of their place. I am not quite sure of the purpose of this act, perhaps to counteract dust clouds later in the day, but it seemed like a waste of water to me.

The town of Cabuya was not much more than a few colorful buildings at a crossroad intersection. The road I’d taken ended in a nature preserve that was supposed to be one of the most pristine in Costa Rica that hadn’t even been open to tourists until recent years. It was time to head back to Montezuma though, before it became unbearably hot. Two other runners passed by me as I tiredly made my way down the road, they barely seemed to be sweating. How was that possible??

I was actually looking forward to the cold shower back at the hostel after the hot run. I met my new neighbors when I returned. They were a couple from Lake Placid with their teenaged daughter and her friend, who were practicing yoga on the landing outside our rooms. They seemed like mature and mellow teenaged girls and they couldn’t believe it was only 7am when they asked me for the time. They were sure it was already 11am in the morning.

I looked for Christy before I headed to breakfast but she was not around. Perhaps her night with Brad had been eventful. I ate at a small café painted bright yellow and serving typical Costa Rican food. I ordered one last gallo pinto for breakfast and enjoyed it with coffee while reading a book. There was an American couple eating next to me and struggling at communicating with the waiter. The woman clearly needed to spend a good few months unwinding in Costa Rica as she was a nervous wreck. She was stressing out to her husband about ordering a vegetarian meal, of which there were many on the bilingual menu. Even after ordering her meal, and repeatedly saying “vegetarian” to the waiter, she still complained to her husband. “God, its just so difficult for these people to communicate!” they fussed. I chuckled at her terrible American accent; when she said “por favor” it sounded like “pour fay-vour.”

I was walking down towards the beach when I saw Christy at the same café where we’d eaten together the day before. She was eating breakfast with three people she’d met on her snorkel trip the prior day. There was a young married couple traveling with another male friend. They were all originally from Arizona but lived in Humboldt, California now. I was admiring the wedding rings that the couple wore because they were very unique. I think people have gotten ridiculous these days with the exorbitantly priced wedding and engagement rings. It seems like the focus of engagements now is almost more on the “ring” than the act or the commitment. They were wearing gold rings with greenish turquoise rocks set in them; the turquoise was significant in that it had come from Arizona where they’d grown up together.

Christy was going to hitch a ride to Santa Teresa with them later that day, but first they had plans to hike up to the waterfall with Brad. I said goodbye to Christy and wished her luck on her journey. I told her that I thought that what she was doing was really brave. So many people stay complacently in a relationship where they aren’t happy or in love because they are too fearful of change. I hoped she could make peace with her decision.

I found a piece of driftwood down the beach that was in the shade of a tree. I sat there and read my book with my toes in the sand. It couldn’t have been a more relaxing way to spend my last morning in Montezuma. I checked out the jewelry stands on the way back from the beach. The Rastafarian guys were out there selling their jewelry like every other morning. They smoked weed while working on more pieces. Most were made from semiprecious stones and woven threads. Some were made from hemp and natural items that can be found on the beach. One guy was selling some interesting jewelry he made with silver and stones. I bought a ring.

Every Saturday in Montezuma there is an artisan market. This week they were holding it on a Thursday because of the upcoming Christmas holidays. I found the market located in the middle of a park that had a jungle feeling to it. It wasn’t a big gathering, but there was a decent crowd of local expats and tourists. I was starting to feel like I knew everyone in town as I continually bumped into the same people everywhere I went.

I saw the Scottish woman, she was selling calendars she’d made with her photos of the Nicoya peninsula. I saw Papa Gringo using a machete to crack open coconuts. I met a woman who was originally from New Hampshire but had been living in Costa Rica for at least half a decade. She was openly breastfeeding her two month old half Costa Rican daughter while she talked to me. She explained that stand was a “hands on” experience and that I should try her coconut oil based toiletries. There were other people selling tie-dyed clothing, colorful handbags, more woven jewelry, and artwork. There was also a small farmers market with fresh fruits and vegetables.

Just as I was finishing my circuit through the market, I ran into Sebastian. He was chatting with a guy from Eugene, Oregon who was a drummer by profession, but grew medical marijuana legally at home. It was endearing to hear how Sebastian pronounced marijuana; it sounded like “Mariana,” it made the drug sound so classy. Sebastian and this guy from Oregon were going to play a gig later that night at one of the bars in town.

When the Oregonian walked away, Sebastian and I had an interesting conversation comparing the puritanical sexuality of Americans with the looser values of the Europeans. He told me a story about an American girl he’d been with in Germany. She was originally from a small, conservative town in Texas. Sebastian said she’d only had one sexual partner her entire life up until the age of 25. At that time, she traveled to Berlin to visit an American friend living there. That is where she met Sebastian, who was friends with her pal from home. Sebastian said he could tell how rigid and uptight she was from her Christian upbringing. But all of a sudden, he said, it was like something switched on. She started doing research, watching pornography, reading about sex. She finally approached Sebastian; she was ready to experiment. He was happy to oblige. For the next week, they were holed up in his apartment. He said there was a party on her last night in Germany, but early into the night she tapped him on the shoulder, pointed to her watch and said, “We have six hours until my flight back home and still a long list of things to try, let’s go.”

I looked at my watch and realized it was thirty minutes past time to check out of my hostel. I told Sebastian I had to run. He said he couldn’t believe I was leaving for the US so soon. We decided to meet for lunch in an hour before my bus ride back to San Jose. I went back to Hotel Luna Llena and reluctantly packed up my belongings. Up in the lobby area, I set up my laptop and checked into my flight back home. The view behind the computer screen was of the hibiscus flowers and ocean below. I contemplated whether or not I really wanted to go through with this flight back to the cold of New Jersey, but my family was waiting there. It was Christmas, after all.

I carried my bags back to the town square of Montezuma and found Sebastian at Dorado’s Tacos, eating yucca fries while he waited for me. Dorado’s is owned by a guy from Boston who also took the plunge to leave normal life and live in paradise. I ordered some fish tacos and fueled up for the long ride back to San Jose. Sebastian said that the sun had really made my “grackles” come out. “You mean freckles?” I said.

I heard more about Sebastian’s travels. He had lived in Ohio for a year while in high school as part of an exchanged. He said that he wasn’t very cool until the football coach approached him and asked him to be the kicker on the team. Popularity ensued thereafter. In Germany, he said, sports were not the epicenter of coolness as they are in American high schools. He enjoyed his experience in the US though and as a result, has flawless English. Sebastian had also gotten to live in Portugal for a time, the called him Sebastiao there. He’d been lucky to actually make a career out of playing the saxophone and had traveled through Europe and Asia thanks to his band. I told him that when he decided to do his American tour, he’d better stop in Texas. We exchanged emails and said, who knows, maybe we’d cross paths again in Berlin or Texas.

As I walked through Montezuma town one last time, I happened to bump into Christy. She was getting ready to pile into a beat up looking SUV with the Humboldt California group. They were on their way to Santa Teresa but wondered if the car would even make it there as it was making some odd klunking sounds as it idled in the street. We said goodbye once more and I wished her luck and peace in her life. I said I’d drop her a line soon and see how things worked out for her and her marriage. It was time to start the long journey back to San Jose and ultimately New Jersey.