After a long and unexpected journey... missing the planned bus, trucking five miles through a town we did not know, risking the possibility of being homeless, and hopping into the backseat of a few tico's pickup truck, we discovered the town of, Jacó, Costa Rica!
Savannah and I walked down a small street alley, tucked in by various bars, tourist trap shops, and small restaurants, to the beach of Jacó. Immediately stepping onto the beach, I made eye contact with a Tico surfer, as he licked the rolling paper in his hand with much grace and ease. He shouted out to me with a grin that stretched across his face like how the beaches stretch here for miles, "Chicaaas! surfing lessons? I'll give you a deal you can't beat." In order to keep everyone's names a secret, we will call this stoned surfer-- Thiago. After accepting the deal with Thiago, he proceeded to inform us about the surf city of Jacó. His friend, Primo, joined the conversation as they gave us the details on which bars had "ladies night" for the weekend. Thiago mentioned to us with that same goofy grin, that he was 17 years old... then after a moment of laughter he admitted that he is in fact 26. The clock interrupted our banter, as it read 4:20 p.m., the two men exchanged a look of excitement. Thiago and Primo told us that it's a tradition on Jacó beach for the surf instructors of their school to smoke a joint every hour of the day when it turns 20 minutes past the hour. Savannah and I exchanged baffled looks as we both repeated the information to make sure we were catching it right. I felt great importance to be in their presence as the clock struck the ultimate stoner time of 4:20. The surf culture along the Puntaranes coast, while may not be as extreme as these men, encompasses the 'go with the flow' chilled out mindset. This relates to our time at the hostel in Jacó.
When checking into our hostel, Savannah and I were greeted by a shirtless and barefoot man of about mid-twenties, I'll call him, Victor. When he spoke, a heavy French accent coiled it's way into his words. He led us to the backyard, where we would be staying in a "private room" also known as... a tent. We asked when he'd like us to pay him for the night and Victor replied "whenever you'd like," there was no hostility or rush to his words, they floated in the air like the palm leaves make their way through the sky finding their eventual way to the dirt floors. I have found so much beauty by living in a hostel. The way that all of these different paths and backgrounds lead seemingly completely different people to one place of sustainable and cheap living, fills my heart with an indescribable sense of gratefulness to have been planted in this moment.
Savannah and I were at dinner after watching a surf competition on Playa Hermosa, looking out at the surf, a colorful swing-set, and watching the sunset as we talked about perspective. We discussed the crazy reality that we were living-- the idea that her and I could somehow see the world through similar lenses. Let me tell you all a little bit about Savannah (without giving too much away because I'll have a full post about her later into the semester). She comes from a small town called Two Rivers, Wisconsin. I, come from a town with over 100,000 people outside of New York City. We were raised in very different households and surrounded by extremely differing opportunities and ways of experiencing the world. But, somehow we were both attracted to the major of anthropology, the Spanish language, and a strong desire to encounter something more than ordinary. As we looked out over the bar at the sunset, we reflected on all of the mixed opinions that were thrown at us when first telling friends of our planned trip to Jacó. I summed up Savannah's thoughts as, "some people can only see with their eyes and not their hearts--- there is so much more beauty in being aware of the culture and journey, rather than only focusing on the view that's just directly there."
Following the sunset, we stumbled upon a group of Tico surfers while hanging out at an after party of the surf competition. We mingled with them a little and then offered us a ride in their pickup, back to the mainland of Jacó. Squished perfectly between Savannah and who we would later find out was "Mr. Costa Rica," listening to Raphael's surf/rap playlist, and riding along the hermosa shore, I questioned again how this messy but flawlessly pure life and these beautiful people had been placed in my presence.
thankful and grateful for the journey,
anjali
KEY:
Tico = Costa Rican
Hermosa = beautiful
*Pseudonyms have been used throughout this post in order to veil the identities of the people I encountered along this journey*