BW: Consider me gone.
 That's what we said Wake at 7, cup after cup of free coffee up to the room, worry about all the sugar I get down here from that, the fruit from breakfast, the daily can of ice cold mango nectar that I down in two orgasmic gulps before I have even reached the sidewalk for two seconds, study the verb mostrar, longer yoga session than usual trying to work the travel day kinks and weird aches from the thin mattress out, call one of my bosses and follow up with an e mail in case my VM was unintelligible thanks to often bad skype connections, go down to see what room I have to move into and when I can do so and find that I can keep this one for two more nights, have an amazing breakfast of banana, pineapple, papaya, water melon, eggs, beans and rice, bread, and a pancake for under four bucks with three chicks from Oslo who are checking out one of whom has a can of dip in her front pocket which I could not wrap my head around, and then the contemplation of whether or not I am still sick because now my gut aches and it did not before, and get a proper workout in while I wait to see, packing my bag for the park between sets, shave in the dark bathroom hoping I got the side burns correct, and then buy a bottle of water and a banana and throw it in my bag, pay my ten bucks, and walk the trail for three hours sweating up a storm, looking at sloths and monkeys and lizards and hummingbirds other critters and beaches and unsuccessfully trying to figure out how I get to The One That I Came Here For in fewer than 4 hours without hiking boots and I run into most of the Zuma crew, Jarred and Athena, M/Norris and Antonia, Chantel and Julie, and Oly and Ily (taking the wildest of stabs there) who were two Swiss girls that I never talked to but saw every day at my hotel. The prettier of the two has a pierced septum and hairy armpits. They are already in Dominical by now. While my eyes are still those of a hunter, the twin satellite dishes on the sides of my head that pass for ears play tricks on me, and it would take me forever to drown out the competing sounds made by birds and insects and zero in on the thing that was making the racket, minutes spent scanning the treetops to finally see some large rodent feeding on the ground. You can enter the park in one of two ways and I exited the other from which I entered which involves crossing an estuary that has several boatman who want to ferry you across, for a fee of course, to protect you from the crocodiles, which may or may not exist, but I yelled Liars! as I passed and waded on through looking over my shoulder at the mad glares of the boatmen and the nervous glares of older tourists, got my mango nectar and more water, came back here and washed the sand off as much as one can, had a business meeting over the Skype, took a nap, uploaded the photos, had the same cheap awesome lunch as yesterday as I went through the flashcards, and grabbed a can of beer for the sunset. It occurred to me as I sat there looking at girls in bikinis, based upon my previous conclusions in Carrillo, that I should have hoped to see several crocodiles. Four girls waved from a blanket and I recognized two of them from the shuttle into Zuma. They are from Buenos Aires and I told the tale of Soledad and I, and they wanted to know where Isabelle was, and I looked at them weird since they were dropped off before I had met Iz, and they somehow knew we were sharing a bed together and were confused and disappointed when I drew a line in the sand after they failed to understand my explanation that we were sharing a bed but not sharing sharing a bed. And, as if her ears were burning I come back here to find a facebook message from here wondering where I am. It just occurred to me that she never had one drink drink during the time we roomed together. II I had three really good meals today, all here at Costa Linda, paid ten extra bucks for the park, bought deodorant, am paying twenty for a ten dollar room and only went nine bucks over budget. Dinner and ensuing drinks were with Moritz and Antonia and Jarred and Athena who looks and talks so much like Jill Benner, actually, on their last night in town. The former taking off for Uvita in the morning and the latter not so sure, but hoping maybe to get to Panama. Assuming my room continues to be available, I will stay, if not, I will head down the coast to either Uvita or Dominical. They all dreaded going back to their place. Not only are the rooms expensive small and hot, but if the rave ever ends, then loud voices chatter all night. That’s a fun group and the highlight was when Moritz finally caught on and laughed for 5 minutes when, after Athena said, in reference to second hand smoke “It makes my throat hurt” and I said, well, you know what I said.
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Diary Photos
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