Thanksgiving in Costa Rica
Thanksgiving Weekend 2006 kicked my ass. But not in a normal Thanksgiving sort of way.
My first Thanksgiving in Costa Rica didn’t include any overeating, although it did include turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie. It didn’t include any overdrinking, although I did enjoy my fair share of Imperials and, regrettably, margaritas. And it didn’t include any awkward extended-family dinners or airport delays, although I did spend the entire weekend with my dad and although we did encounter some pretty bad highway traffic.
Nope. None of that normal, boring crap. Instead, my weekend left me bruised, beat, bitten, and burned. And my stomach bothered.
It all began Wednesday morning, picking my dad up at the San Jose airport. We caught the Thrifty shuttle to pick up our car and then headed next door to the airport Denny’s for some breakfast.
Now, a couple of years ago, after a particularly frustrating night of poker and a particularly disgusting middle-of-the-night Denny’s “breakfast,” I decided that I would never eat at a Denny’s again. But when your dad’s just flown in on the red-eye, you’re hungry, and there no real alternative for miles – well Denny’s didn’t sound all that bad.
And, thankfully, it wasn’t. My meal wasn’t terrible and the restaurant actually provided – get this – wireless internet service. So my dad and I pulled out our Macs and surfed, sent email, and caught up on current evens while putting down some pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and sausage.
After that, it was off to Tamarindo, a small but booming town on the west coast of the country. Driving in Costa Rica can be an adventure thanks to its pitiful infrastructure, but about five hours later, we rolled into town right at sunset, just in time to snap some pretty fine photos before finding our hotel. A few minutes later and we were at a little place on the beach, downing some beers and enjoying the beach life.
Thanksgiving Day itself didn’t feel different than any other day down here. I woke up late, answered some emails, watched the parade on TV, and waited for my dad to wake up. Apparently, flying overnight on the red-eye and then driving five hours will wear a man out, because he didn’t wake up until past 10, almost 14 hours after he fell asleep.
That day, Thursday, was our easy day. We found a great place for lunch and then took off for a long walk on the beach. And when I say long, I mean long. Hours in one direction and hours back. And as you may know, hours in the sun can leave you with just a little bit of a sunburn unless you liberally apply that sunscreen. Which I thought I did. But the plate-sized sunburn in the middle of my back begs to differ.
That night, I soothed my pain over turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d find a Thanksgiving menu in a tiny coastal town in Costa Rica, but my dad and I chose this restaurant at random, and there it was. And it was good too.
Pretty soon after that, though, things started to deteriorate. My dad wanted to go horseback riding on Friday, so we went. I was sunburned and tired, but I was all for it. Until I actually got on my horse. Never in my life have I felt more uncomfortable riding a horse (or any other animal for that matter). Halfway through our TWO-HOUR trip I was in pain, and by the end, after all the trotting and galloping on the beach, I could hardly move. My back was jacked up, my knees hurt, and on the ride the local mosquitoes apparently decided to turn my legs and arms into their own Thanksgiving dinner.
That night, I decided to numb my body with alcohol. Good decision, I thought. And it was, until I decided to go for a margarita on the rocks. You would think I’d have learned my lesson the first time about mixed drinks and what the water does to my stomach, but you’d be wrong. Less than two hours later, I was already regretting my decision (and to be honest, I’m still feeling the repercussions today).
Somehow, with my back aching, my skin burned, my body itching, and my stomach bothered, I managed to make it home late Saturday night. (It probably helped that my dad drove the entire way.) I recovered somewhat on Sunday, and Monday, it was back to the grind. By which I mean rubbing my bug bites against the wall of my office.
My first Thanksgiving in Costa Rica didn’t include any overeating, although it did include turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie. It didn’t include any overdrinking, although I did enjoy my fair share of Imperials and, regrettably, margaritas. And it didn’t include any awkward extended-family dinners or airport delays, although I did spend the entire weekend with my dad and although we did encounter some pretty bad highway traffic.
Nope. None of that normal, boring crap. Instead, my weekend left me bruised, beat, bitten, and burned. And my stomach bothered.
It all began Wednesday morning, picking my dad up at the San Jose airport. We caught the Thrifty shuttle to pick up our car and then headed next door to the airport Denny’s for some breakfast.
Now, a couple of years ago, after a particularly frustrating night of poker and a particularly disgusting middle-of-the-night Denny’s “breakfast,” I decided that I would never eat at a Denny’s again. But when your dad’s just flown in on the red-eye, you’re hungry, and there no real alternative for miles – well Denny’s didn’t sound all that bad.
And, thankfully, it wasn’t. My meal wasn’t terrible and the restaurant actually provided – get this – wireless internet service. So my dad and I pulled out our Macs and surfed, sent email, and caught up on current evens while putting down some pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and sausage.
After that, it was off to Tamarindo, a small but booming town on the west coast of the country. Driving in Costa Rica can be an adventure thanks to its pitiful infrastructure, but about five hours later, we rolled into town right at sunset, just in time to snap some pretty fine photos before finding our hotel. A few minutes later and we were at a little place on the beach, downing some beers and enjoying the beach life.
Thanksgiving Day itself didn’t feel different than any other day down here. I woke up late, answered some emails, watched the parade on TV, and waited for my dad to wake up. Apparently, flying overnight on the red-eye and then driving five hours will wear a man out, because he didn’t wake up until past 10, almost 14 hours after he fell asleep.
That day, Thursday, was our easy day. We found a great place for lunch and then took off for a long walk on the beach. And when I say long, I mean long. Hours in one direction and hours back. And as you may know, hours in the sun can leave you with just a little bit of a sunburn unless you liberally apply that sunscreen. Which I thought I did. But the plate-sized sunburn in the middle of my back begs to differ.
That night, I soothed my pain over turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d find a Thanksgiving menu in a tiny coastal town in Costa Rica, but my dad and I chose this restaurant at random, and there it was. And it was good too.
Pretty soon after that, though, things started to deteriorate. My dad wanted to go horseback riding on Friday, so we went. I was sunburned and tired, but I was all for it. Until I actually got on my horse. Never in my life have I felt more uncomfortable riding a horse (or any other animal for that matter). Halfway through our TWO-HOUR trip I was in pain, and by the end, after all the trotting and galloping on the beach, I could hardly move. My back was jacked up, my knees hurt, and on the ride the local mosquitoes apparently decided to turn my legs and arms into their own Thanksgiving dinner.
That night, I decided to numb my body with alcohol. Good decision, I thought. And it was, until I decided to go for a margarita on the rocks. You would think I’d have learned my lesson the first time about mixed drinks and what the water does to my stomach, but you’d be wrong. Less than two hours later, I was already regretting my decision (and to be honest, I’m still feeling the repercussions today).
Somehow, with my back aching, my skin burned, my body itching, and my stomach bothered, I managed to make it home late Saturday night. (It probably helped that my dad drove the entire way.) I recovered somewhat on Sunday, and Monday, it was back to the grind. By which I mean rubbing my bug bites against the wall of my office.
posted by Higgity Heitner at 8:34 PM
3 Comments:
Well, Matt...that really sucks. Sorry to hear you had such a bad Thanksgiving. I hope things go better for you this week. I'll give you a call soon.
T.
Higgity-
I have enjoyed reading your blogs tonight....
I had no idea you were in Costa Rica. Much more fabulous that Phoenix! We are going to Espana in a week and I can't wait to be back in Madrid (it has been 5 years!)
Anyway, great to read about how great you're doing!
Dallface
DF,
Well, I'm sure Costa Rica sounds more fabulous than Phoenix, but trust me: I miss all the easy living of the states: Costco, hot water, reliable garbage service, having a car, etc.
But I don't want to complain. I'm having a great time down here fo sho.
Hope you had a great time in España! Heather and I went last Christmas and loved Sevilla and Barcelona. But it was COLD!! I'll take the Costa Rican weather over that any day of the week and twice on Sunday.
HH
Post a Comment
<< Home