I decided to be lazy and sleep in today since it was Saturday. That meant getting up at 6 am instead of 5. The early morning waking was to the sound of tranquil rain outside which began just before 6.
I decided it was finally time to make the trek over to Tamarindo, which is the next town over, for some supplies other than fish, vegetables and water. I barely remembered from five years ago the wandering path through the uncleared forest that led to the shoreline of the estuary where the morning boats picked up.
While making my way through the brush it came to my mind that any number of wild species lived within these trees and could surge out at any given moment. There was no sense of fear whatsoever and I felt a peaceful harmony with nature but I was also very well aware of crocodiles in this area. I gripped the strap of my well-worn backpack from it’s many journeys through Asia and now Central America and continued making my way to the sandy beach where one lone boat was waiting.
Daniel, a leathery old Tico, greeted me on shore. He was the boat captain. “Hola Amigo, Tamarindo?” “Si,” I responded. Despite my best efforts, my shoes plunged deeply into the water and the heavy sand sucked them under. Pulling into the shore of Tamarindo there was immediately a completely different vibe and energy altogether from Playa Grande, the opposite in so many ways. Remote solitude versus surfer party scene. Tamarindo is actually known for being the “Party Beach of Costa Rica.” Also locally known as “Tamagringo.” I knew that one trip per week would be more than enough of that energy for me. I suppose 10 or 20 years ago I would have jumped right in. Now I am older, perhaps finally becoming a quiet old Zen Master.
I wandered down the central dusty road of Tamarindo as I have done so many times in the past, feeling once again like the lost foreigner in a new and undiscovered town.
As I made my way through town, I became familiar once again with this sleepy surf community that I had been to many years before. Surfers with their boards wandered the street, massage therapists on the beach, horses on the sand and sailboats in the cove. This was the surf town culture I had remembered, but with now much more new construction as foreigners have discovered it and continued moving in over the years.
I found my way to the market mercado, thanks to the help of a beautiful local woman who was working in the front of a restaurant. Walking into the mercado was like Christmas morning, to see shelves lined with familiar items such as Oreos, Pringles, Diet Pepsi. I went into my normal deer in the headlights mode, as usually happens to me in a large unfamiliar store. After much wandering and confusion I made my way to the checkout….black beans, tortillas, mango nectar, coffee biscuits, Pringles, Diet Pepsi…$23.
On my trek back I was rushing to find a wifi spot to connect with a friend back home. I stopped into Nordico Coffeehouse, which had a great vibe, only to find out they had no water today. No water equals no coffee. Just another typical day in Costa Rica. No need to get upset.
Pura Vida.
Take a siesta.
Appreciate every little thing.
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Field Notes
The value of a human being can be
measured by what he or she most deeply
wants. Be free of possessing things.
Sit at an empty table.
Be pleased with water,
the taste of being at home.
-Rumi
From the Archives
Enjoy The Japanese Art of Forest Bathing from the archives.
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Zen and Ink Journals represents hundreds of hours of writing over the past decade, sometimes from a train in remote China or a coffee shop in Kyoto, a hammock in Costa Rica or a simple cabin on a mountaintop in Boquete, Panama or Ciudad Colón.
On these pages, I share my observations of kindness and beauty from my adventures in the world and invite you to listen quietly for the call within you to explore the places that beckon your soul.
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