Nicoya, Costa Rica -- afternoon

Today is Monday; a new week is starting. In just a little bit, I will take the hour and a half bus ride to Samara to spend the evening and night. From Samara then, either tomorrow or Wednesday, I'll hitch a ride up to a gas station about five kilometers out to catch a bus for Nosara, where I'll then spend an afternoon, evening and night. From there I should be able to get a bus to Santa Cruz, and then on Friday I'll travel in bus from Santa Cruz to Liberia for the weekend fiestas. At the conclusion of the weekend, I'll head north to Nicaragua. These are my short-term plans.

Well, I don't have much time to write, so I will now quickly finish my account of yesterday's journey from just past that fancy hotel in Punta Islita. I hadn't walked more than about 200 meters when a blue Kia came up from behind me and actually stopped to offer me a ride before I even stuck out my thumb. Of course I hopped in. We travelled about four kilometers and reached the Rio Ora, where the couple stopped to bath for only half an hour. They offered to carry me on to Samara if I was willing to wait. But I felt restless and I declined, putting faith in being able to catch another ride, or at worst, walking until they caught up to me.

Feeling re-charged, as much from the human interpersonal contact as from the physical break, I made amazing time walking over two kilometers in about twenty to thirty minutes. At that point, I decided to stop into a home on the roadside to ask for a glass of water. I got into a decent conversation with the old man of the house, and I made a couple of jokes that managed to make him laugh. However, during the conversation, I saw the couple in the Kia drive by, without having any idea of my whereabouts.

Leaving the home, I had to walk another two kilometers to Playa Carrillo, where I was surprised to see the couple sitting at a table waving at me. I walked over, and they offerred me some coca-cola along with that ride to Samara, still seven kilometers to the north. When we arrived in Samara, we drove around looking for the bank, but could find none. I jumped out to ask a man whether Samara had a bank; he replied "no." The next town with a bank was either Nosara, on the coast, or Nicoya, inland, which is where the couple were driving. I told them that I didn't want to inconvenience them, but they offerred to take me the nearly forty kilometers inland to Nicoya.

But first, they wanted to go to Playa Barco Quebrado, a tiny hidden beach, to watch the sunset. I said I had no problem with that. After all, beggars can't be choosers. While they went off on their romantic walk, I cut up watermelon with my knife and ate it voraciously. Unlike my other car-rides with them earlier in the day, I remained silent on the ride back to Nicoya; I had read that they were quiet people, and I respected that, as I respected the solitude of the sunset and its decreasing twilight.

And so that's how I got to Nicoya, when it was nowhere in my original plans. But this morning, I woke up on my own at 7:30am to eat a nice breakfast, go to the bank to cash a traveller's check, and go to an internet cafe to catch up on my correspondences. I took photos of the colonial church here in the town center plaza. And I just ate a good lunch.

Now I'm sitting in the park in the plaza in 90*F weather, but in the shade with an occasional breeze. Compared to my journeys in the sun the past week or so, this is quite comfortable. Now, before it gets too late, I'm going to get my things to catch the bus.