The day after Christmas, Olivia and I booked a combo snorkel
and sunset cruise on a catamaran. A late lunch would be included, as well as
unlimited beverages. Once again, we were picked up at the house by one of the
employees and driven to the launch site - which happened to be right in the
middle of the public beach in downtown Tamarindo.
There was no marina in Tamarindo, so any large vessel that
desired to come ashore had to drop anchor in the bay/cove at the main public
beach area. Our catamaran was parked out there.
When we arrived at the launch site, our driver informed us
that we would be headed out to sea with a large group of Canadians. There appeared
to be about twenty-five of them and a good majority of them were obese. Along
with Olivia and I, there were three or four small groups sprinkled in to max
out the manifest.
A dinghy with an outboard motor was used to ferry us out in
groups to the anchored catamaran. The crew had the arduous task of pushing the
dinghy off the beach and into the breaking waves over and over again until they
had gained enough depth to drop the outboard motor and gun it out to sea.
Olivia and I were asked to wait until the last group so the crew could get the
fat Canadians on board first. This took much longer than I expected. And it
appeared to take longer than even the crew expected. The Canadians were just
too heavy to push out to sea.
The crew pushed and pulled and pushed for what seemed like
forever. And each time they made a little headway, an unusually large wave would
come along and smack the dinghy back onto the beach. I began to lose confidence
in the procedure. I didn’t think it would be possible to get the dinghy in deep
enough water to drop that motor. When they finally did get the motor down and
ignited it looked like absolute dumb luck. But they did it. They got those fat Canadians
on board, and eventually they came back for me and Olivia.
She and I were the very last two on board. Hence, we got the
very last two seats on deck. It didn’t much matter though. No matter where we
sat, we’d be sitting next to an obese Canadian.
The crew gave us a rundown of the itinerary and the rules of
the boat. We would set sail for the northern tip of the Tamarindo bay/cove. It
would take about thirty minutes to get there. Along the way, we’d be free to
order Imperials and pina coladas from the crew at our leisure. The captain
would do his best to find a calm and clear spot to snorkel for an hour. Then
the crew would serve us a lunch of chicken & rice and Greek salad. After
lunch we would sail back to the launch site at a very slow pace so we could
enjoy the sunset - and once again, order Imperials and pina coladas from the
crew at our leisure.
As we set sail, the crew turned on a stereo and played a
collection of Bob Marley hits. Olivia and I hung our legs off the edge of the
boat and held onto the railing as we watched the Guanacaste coast line and
interior mountains drift by.
The place that we snorkeled was clear and calm, but the
wildlife in the area was subpar. We saw only a handful of bright blue fish and exactly
one yellow and black striped snakelike creature that may have been an eel. We
did spot a couple of pale-skinned Canadian whales, but they were not very
enjoyable to look at, and I was a bit afraid of getting eaten by one of them,
so we spent the majority of our time in the water trying to steer clear of
them.
The subsequent lunch was delicious as there was ample Lizano
salsa made available to douse over the chicken & rice. Lizano is a smooth
textured Costa Rican salsa with just a little bit of kick that is sold in a
bottle similar in size and shape to Cholula or Tabasco . It’s a fantastic
addition to any rice dish and its everywhere you look in Costa Rica .
Meals refuse to be eaten in Costa
Rica unless there is a little bit of Lizano
mixed in.
I was a little worried that there would not be enough chicken
& rice & Lizano to go around due to the general girth of our fellow
shipmates. This preconception was proved to be unjust as I am quite certain I was
the only passenger that went back for a third helping.
As soon as I began to feel guilty for my discriminatory attitude
– and my own descent towards obesity – I overheard one of the larger ladies
asking one of her fellow Maple Leafers if they were going to the planned lobster
dinner that was awaiting them on shore, and how much she was looking forward to
devouring said lobster, and how much she enjoyed devouring lobsters in general.
When that conversation had run its course, she moved on to the next person, and
asked the same question. When people began to move to the starboard side of the
boat to get a better look at the setting sun, she followed. Not to get a look
at the sunset for herself, but to continue telling whomever she could just how
much she enjoyed putting giant lobsters into her gullet. Even though it probably
shouldn’t have, my guilt quickly subsided into bemused delight as I watched
this large woman openly salivate over her upcoming feast; and immediately after
lunch no less. I think I enjoyed watching the lobster lady more than I enjoyed
watching the sunset.
Shortly after the sun sank into the sea, we returned to the
harbor. We were ferried back to the launch site in the fading light. We were
shuttled back to our hotel where we quickly showered and headed right back into
downtown for dinner and drinks.
It did not seem to cool off during nighttime on the coast.
It was still very warm. There wasn’t much of an ocean breeze, either. So
basically, it was hot at night. I don’t think I put on a long sleeve shirt the
entire time I was in Tamarindo.
Olivia was in the mood for seafood. Perhaps she had been
subconsciously infected by the lobster lady. We found a nice open air,
beachside restaurant called Copa Cabana. There we were served an absolutely
horrid dinner. Olivia ordered mahi mahi that she claimed was satisfactory, but as
she ate, I heard no sounds from her side of the table that would indicate even
the slightest notch above baseline satisfaction. Meanwhile, I had a pasta dish with
some sort of Indonesian sweet sauce that tasted like old tomatoes and feet. I’m
fairly certain everything in that restaurant was frozen, zapped in the
microwave, and then dipped in a bucket of dishwater and soiled socks.
After dinner we walked along the main street and found
ourselves at a seedy open air bar listening to a couple of locals play rock
covers on an acoustic guitar and bongo drum. I ordered a whiskey straight up,
partly in an attempt to remove the taste of feet in my mouth, and partly just
because it makes my bones tingle. Olivia ordered vodka tonics. We sat and drank
until the band finished their set. It was still pretty early for creatures of
the night, but not so much for we creatures of the dusk. We took a cab home and
the lights were extinguished in our room by the time the clock struck midnight.
No comments:
Post a Comment