Nicoya with Nani

I drove my Galloper over to Puntarenas yesterday, just making the 9:00 ferry to Naranjo from where we drove down to the southern rim of the peninsula on what I didn't realize was the worst, pitted, rocky, swervy, steep, dirt road EVER! We drove and drove, sister Nani patiently sitting shotgun and clinging to her seat as I inadvertently hurled her from side to side as I slammed through potholes, climbed and dropped over hills and valleys and veered right and left as I tried to steer away from any oncoming cars while trying to make time on our rushed tour of the peninsula. We were both starving and cranky, so as soon as we hit a paved road in Paquera, where the other ferry goes, we stopped to eat some lunch at a little soda/house that had several tables with table clothes that looked promising. The man of the house came out and talked to us about his fishing business, telling us he had fresh red snapper or shrimp rice. I took the "fresh" fish, and Nani opted for the shrimp rice. The fish was breaded and fried, tough and tasteless, but Nani's rice was yum, so I helped her out. She eats like a bird.

After lunch, we decided to drive as far as we could, thinking/hoping we could get up around Samara, but no such luck; we made it to Montezuma, again hitting the deep ruts, twisted turns, and pitted hills of the dirt road; however, once we arrived and scoped out all the dredlocked inhabitants, we were relieved to find Amor de Mer a few meters outside the main drag, and we got a room overlooking the sea. This was the first vista from the hotel.

I was a little grumpy and so went to lie in one of the many hammocks strung up among the trees and photographed this fellow who was mooching around in the rocks. After reading and sitting awhile, I found Nani, and we walked into town to check out the dinner options, passing on our way the tables of handmade jewelry and geegaws that hippies and surfers seem to sell to stay afloat.

This bus was plunked on the land in front of a restaurant and hotel and gives a little feel of the place. We bought a beer each and realized that it seemed to be the law of the land that one drank beer as one walked around; off came the lids, popped went my Nicaraguan latest favorite beer, and we wandered around, heading back toward the hotel. I knew when I tried to clamber over the rocks that I had drunk my beer way too fast. I slipped, crashed down into a rushing rivulet from the rushing tide, scratched up my knee but

found my way up to the big lawn of the hotel. It would have been better to have my picture here, but one of sister Nan with her open Corona speaks volumes. We settled into two uncomfortable chairs and watched this elegant heron for awhile, read, went upstairs and decided it was time for dinner. Probably I decided it was time for dinner because my druther is always before dark.

As we traipsed back down the dirt road to the town, we heard some dreadful sounds from the surrounding forests, and a family of Swedish blondes told us that it was the giant monkeys - we supposed the Howlers. The woman warned us not to get too close to them as they were likely to throw their shit at us if they got scared. We didn't have to worry as they never materialized, but I heard the howling again the next morning.

We rose at the crack of dawn, struggling to sleep through the torrential rains, cracking lightning and crashing thunder throughout the night. When we left in the morning, I snagged a quick shot of the lawn leading down to the water at the back of our hotel; this was our view from the room. It was a splendid little place, but I think it will be a long time until I return to Montezuma.