Living la vida pura

No, not la vida loca. . .la vida pura, the pure life - the mantra of Costa Rica (at least the expats that live there).

The interesting thing about having a party in a country where you don't know anyone is that you never know who will show up. We spent the following day recovering from our hangovers, running into town to go shopping (Shaun and Heather said they'd get the fish), checking eMail (no word on the COX-2 pitch I participated in just before the holidays, drat), and basically checking out the town.

Later in the afternoon, after getting back to the house, Jason decided to go riding around the area (I had had enough on the bikes after Corcovado the day before), so I demurred. Idiot. First, he checks out the most perfect beach (see photo), and THEN he heads over to Matapalo, and gets to observe the only troop of monkeys either of us would see during the whole trip. It became a running joke that the bastard monkeys were refusing to show themselves to me just to make Jason feel even worse for taking off without me that afternoon. But at least one of us got to see them!

Our "party" that evening was great fun - Shaun and Heather found some excellent Mahi-Mahi and then a friend of theirs, MC Rasta Stevie showed up for dinner along with his son, Garnet. Stevie was a trip - amazing guy, very different perspective on life. Grew up catholic and converted to Rastafarianism. Wife named Feather. Appartently he MCs at several well known Reggae fests in California, lives in Colorado most of the year but was speing two months on some property he owned down the beach from us.

A chef from one of the resorts (Melissa) and another woman we had met at Martina's also stopped by on their way home from work. Lots of beer and "cuba libres" were consumed.