If I'm going to make hay out of these travelogues and secure a complimentary return trip to Punta Islita through the magic of "influencing" and providing free good press, I'd better say something about the amazing resort we stayed at -- Punta Islita.
As you can see from the picture above, Costa Rica is not hurting for beauty. As Alaska --last year's trip -- was to natural, undeveloped wilderness near the North Pole, Costa Rica is to equally untouched magnificence as one approaches the equator.
I looked it up, the nearest Home Depot, or any Big Box store, was in Key Largo, some 3,297 kms away. Besides, not to mix messaging but the owner of Home Depot is a Trumpster. Get your gaskets, light bulbs and weed-wacker string at Lowe's.
Each of the rooms at Punta Islita is a small casita that, thanks to some clever design, is secluded either by foliage, land contour, and in many cases both. It's as if you're not staying at a hotel but your own private villa and about 700 square feet of living space. Plus, another 1000 square feet outside, atop this magical hill that overlooks the bay.
In addition to the loungers and the incredibly comfortable hammock, I'm a hammock guy, there is a Plunge Pool. I'm also a plunge pool guy. And when the mercury, as well as the humidity, is always above 90, there are plenty of opportunities to take advantage of the instant and indescribable relief a plunge pool has to offer.
Added plus, because of the aforementioned privacy, hay no necessito mi banador. I will leave the translation and the unnecessary hirsute imagery up to the reader.
At night, the skies light up. Again, what the Aurora Borealis is to the north, Heat Lightning is the equator-adjacent south. Rarely accompanied by thunder. And during the dry season, never (or almost never) accompanied by rain.
We often lay in bed with curtains wide open to gasp at the amazing light show.
Also, I would be remiss not to mention the 4 poster bed itself.
It was enormous. Ms. Muse and I are convinced it was bigger than a King. Even bigger than a California King. Perhaps it's only fitting that a nation with beaches on the Pacific as well as the Caribbean merits its own mattress nomenclature -- we call it The Costa Rican King.
The real beauty of Punta Islita is not quantifiable. Nor can it be captured by one's iPhone, which thanks to a friendly staffer in the restaurant, was now sitting in a large zip lock bag of uncooked rice.
And then there was Jose, the Hotel Ambassador, who, when told one of my flip flops snapped, rendering it unwearable, graciously offered to bring another Size 11, EEE, pair from his home for me to use for the week. Jose is phenomenal.
"Fenomenal, repeatan, classe, fe-nom-e-nal."
Having toiled in the restaurant/hospitality business in my youth, I know it is not always easy to accommodate the many, many needs of guests. Particularly demanding whiny Americans, who now appear even whinier thanks to our ugly Presidente.
Moreover they all do so with a smile, especially impressive when the inclination might be to grab a sharp knife. And lapse into a little Tony Montana, "Ustedes no le gusta los platanos? Dice hola to mi amigo pequeno."
I miss all their friendly faces. And how every sentence was punctuated with a volley of Pura Vidas'.
So ubiquitous is the chorus of Pura Vida, Ms. Muse and I are busy working on the lyrics to a new song. I will let you know when it is released on Spotify.
For no apparent reason, here's a picture of Biggy Iggy. Actually that's one of the smaller iguanas roaming the property. Biggy is twice that size.
Pura Vida!
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