Of all the nights to go heavy on the drink, I had decided to pick the night before we packed our bags and make the shift to the next accommodation; a four hour drive to Santa Teresa on the Nicoya Peninsula.
The fact that this place was only 130 miles away and it was a four hour drive gave an indication of what the roads were going to be like, an average speed just over 30 miles per hour.
I don’t think I had opened my eyes while the prospect of this journey raced through my head. I could still feel the drink in my mouth, but more so in my stomach. I couldn’t face breakfast and made the excuse that I was going to pack while the kids went down to eat. I didn’t pack, I just cried inside.
Knowing that a shower would help me, despite the pain involved in standing up, I forced myself out of bed and prayed that the warm water would wash away the bad decisions of the previous night. Trying not to vomit, life slowly started to creep back into my limbs like a recharging iPhone and so enabled a long overdue brush of the teeth and, slowly but surely, I was able to function a little more like a human.
My kids came back from breakfast and started off pulling my leg about being a lightweight but, when they realised they were attacking a wounded animal, the weirdest of things happened, they started to show me a tiny amount of compassion. They finished off the packing and as I couldn’t bend over without vomiting, they did the most Dadly of Dad jobs, checking under the beds for anything that may have been left behind.
Satisfied that the room was ready for exit, we made our way to the bright and cool reception and took in the final moments of one of the nicest hotels I have ever had the pleasure of visiting.
JP and Natty breezed into reception smoothly pulling their cases behind them and looking every inch like first class travellers, gracefully slid over the polished marble floors, placed themselves next to me and laughed and laughed and laughed at my obviously struggling state.
We made the short walk down to the car park and loaded the car up, ready to head to our next base, Santa Teresa. I tried to sleep as much as I could, the hope being that I would arrive magically refreshed and back in good form. The constant banging and bumping didn’t help me one bit and so, instead, I watched the lush green fields and mountains zoom past and took in the sights from this corner of heaven on earth.
About three quarters of the way to our new home, JP suggested that we stop for a break. We pulled into the Restaurante El Picadero, Jicaral which was a café during the day but looked like they would put on a hell of a good party of an evening.
There were a lot of hearty looking meats bubbling away in display cabinets but I wasn’t ready for that level of stomach stress. Instead I went for a bottle of water and a small tub of vanilla ice cream. Despite my fragile state, it really was great and, because JP is so nice, he decided that I should try the tutti-frutti too.
And so it was that I forced down two tubs of sweet deliciousness on an empty stomach, save for left over tequila and bile, ahead of an hour’s drive on bumpy roads in the tropical heat. What could possibly go wrong?
Shortly after we hit the road, I guess I must have been making some weird groans of discomfort as JP asked if I needed him to stop the car, we only have 24 minutes to go. “No thanks….’ was the confident reply, “…..I’m fine”.
I think it must have been about 90 seconds later I demanded we stop and that we did it quickly. And so it was that I found myself hanging off a fence post near a farmer’s field, while being watched by a nervous security guard at a liquor store, spewing up my two pots of ice cream, leaving it by the side of the road along with my dignity.
JP, Natty and the kids all watching from the car, gleefully recording the event for posterity to make sure I would never forget the scene. Wiping my mouth and desperately trying to blame food poisoning, we set off for the last leg of the journey.
Our AirBnB was in Santa Teresa which was pitched to us as ‘a remote fishing village that has developed into a vibrant tourist trap with an easy going bohemian vibe and an economy focused on tourism, in turn driven by perfect clear seas, surf, snorkelling and golden sands.’ It sounded like heaven on earth, surfer and bohemian vibes, ideal for the kids to relax and for us oldies too.
The reality was quite different, at least initially. The streets were little more than dirt tracks with occasional huge boulders offset by deep puddles, making this very tricky ground for the hungover oaf to be bobbling around in the back of the hot and sweaty car. There were communal bins on the side of the road but they looked to be optional rather than required and so the place was covered in filth. We drove all the way down the long, and apparently only, street than ran parallel to what we assumed to be the sea given the number of surfboards that were on display, and totally missed our accommodation.
We turned and headed back and eventually found the ‘road’ that we needed to cut down. It was hard to imagine how the road could be worse yet it was. It was maybe 200m down to the sea and there, tucked in on the left, was an imposing metal gate, behind which was our home for the next few days.
We tapped in the key code and behind this metal gate was the most incredible space you could imagine. It really did feel like we were walking into a house from Cribs on MTV. There was a huge doorway that was themed like an Indian temple; you walked through that into a glass fronted living space with a kitchen off the side.
Through that glass front was a private swimming pool over which there was an outdoor bed under a leafy canopy. There was an outside BBQ and eating area, all framed in private gardens with fruit hanging from the banana trees, it was paradise.
We walked through the double doors and around the pool were two separate outbuildings, each holding two separate bedrooms that opened out onto the pool. I am not sure what I had done in life to deserve this sort of luxury but I wasn’t going to start questioning it now!
I took a shower in my private bathroom that had a glass roof, so it felt like you were washing in nature. The fancy body rubs and scrubs that were provided made it feel even more so! I lay on the bed, still struggling after the night before and fell asleep while the kids annoyed each other in the pool.
I woke, I would love to say refreshed, just in time to make the short walk down to the beach. We took a right turn and it was then a short walk of about 500 meters to the Coco Life beach front bar. I have to be honest I can’t tell you much from this point on.
I know that the floor was sand. I know that everyone else there was half my age and that they were at least ten times more healthy and tanned. And I know that my energy levels were almost zero. I didn’t eat and just had soft drinks and then fell over a tree trunk covering the black dark path on the way home…..a fitting end to a terrible day for me, fully self-inflicted.
Itchy Feet and Titchy Feet 