It’s raining in Montezuma.
I woke up this morning to the sound of rain drops. El Invierno has arrived in Costa Rica.
I am in Montezuma, on the southern tip of Nicoyo Peninsula, a reggae sort of town, with restaurants catering to different (low) levels of risk-taking tourist diets, from uber-safe to merely highly cautious. The shoreline is beautiful and rocky. The juice bar across the street is run by a giggly Brazilian kid who doesn’t speak any Spanish.
The tour operators came down to stand beside their boats in the morning drizzle, looking slightly disappointed and helpless, but mostly just familiar with it. Not long later the backpackers (who bought their tours yesterday) showed up in their pods of about a dozen and tentatively climbed in.
There are a few dogs who seem to live on the beach, and play with whoever happens by. Last night sitting and watching the waves, the black lab with the brownie-butter eyes came and sat next to me, my best friend in the world, occasionally pushing his nose up under my arm for some lovin’.
Don’t worry, I remembered to wash my hands before eating anything.
I’m stealing from the Pension next door, the battery’s dying, and there’s a hike to be hiked. Saludos.