This day has been eagerly thought about for about six months or more. At first, it was just a few friends having a drink at a local wine bar, and then it was real. This small, half hatched idea was brewed somewhere between a latte and some bubbly sake. The next morning, this idea was more than just a dream of two girls yakking, it was going to be the best trip of our lives-at least up until the next one comes. Something about it stuck and embraced our needs with something seductive.
So here it is, a well-rounded vacation to Costa Rica right here in front of us… All we have to is wait for that alarm to go off at 5:30 so we can all cram into a San Francisco taxi, dash though our very effective-government demanded, security check points and then sit for a few hours in the airport. At 2:30, three hours before all this actually happens, my brain plays out each part like the Lord of the Rings; could end a million different ways but just kept going on and on using up valuable sleeping time.
In the air, I only saw rocks out the window. I don’t know what I should have been seeing instead, but it was all desert and rocks. Plain and boring, old rocks. So, I looked around the cramped cabin to see if our stewardess, oh-sorry, flight attendant, could liven things up a bit. Her answer was more unpleasing then the rocks. Stating clearly that all adult beverages would be $7.00 USD, and exact change was preferred. So maybe that sleep I missed out on last night would be useful now, now if I could only ban babies from flying commercial flights…
After we landed, and breezed through the airport, we were whisked away to a treasure. Really a diamond in the rough, our hotel had so much character. And the owner’s took us in as if we were their children. Papa made us fresh pizzas that rivaled some that I have had in Italy, and brought cold beers. Mamma dealt a heavy warning for the Jaco and San José areas.