We’re alive and kicking. There have been a couple bumps in the road– both literally and figuratively, but those have hurt nothing more than my pride. And maybe my first layer of skin.
There were about 24 hours when we first arrived in Puerto Viejo in which I managed to forget how to keep hold of all my belongings. My sunglasses left at the outdoor shower, water bottle at the hotel bar, debit card most likely left in the ATM machine. The sunglasses and water bottle have since been recovered, but the debit card is still MIA (and since canceled). Small mistakes, but an issue for the girl that managed to hold on to the same chapstick for 6 weeks in Europe.
Old single speed bikes have been our favored method of transportation– they are about 1,000 years old and quite rusted, but get you to from point A to point B. This morning on our way to the beach two towns over my bike chain fell off, locking the wheels and sending me ass over tea kettle. I landed on my side with the bike on top of me– my elbow and leg (and not my head) taking the brunt of the fall.
Bree immediately started yelling as simultaneously as she could “are you OK?” and “get out of the road!” as Costa Rican drivers drive like bats straight out a hell. Luckily, their depth perception is impeccable– as I thought we were doomed on more than one occasion for collision.
I think I was more shocked than anything but save for some nasty road rash and some questionable bruises on my back due to the handle bars, I’m a-ok. I had no choice but to get back on the bike (the hardest part) and we managed to make it all the way into Manzanillo before my chain fell off again. At this point I was covered in dirt, blood and sweat– I quit and demanded a Fanta.
I had no choice but to clean myself off in the sea– and that shit stings. I chugged my Fanta, waded into the water and used a pair of hot pink leopard underwear I had in my bag to clean the wounds. I think the most traumatizing part of it– beyond feeling silly for having the briefest of meltdowns in paradise, was when I realized I had tiny little bugs crawling in my open wound after lunch (don’t worry– I have since showered and sanitized).
As my Grandma Jeanie would say, if it’s not life or limb—then forget about it. And this is neither. Back Monday morning– hopefully in one piece, wearing business casual attire and with no sand in my ears. Until then, I’ll be enjoying Caribbean time, lobsters and having nowhere to be but the beach.