Tamarindo

The drive to Tamarindo takes over 4 hours, with a stop to make use of facilities and listen to the bickering of a flock of macaws.  It passes mostly without consequence, the drive. I spend most my time watching the absorbing the landscape whipping by, drawing parallels to places I don't spend enough time in.  Gravel roads, red clay, bayous, and thunderstorms are all familiar but removed. A form of déjà vu? 

We are booked into the Tamarindo Diria, part of the Diria Group, which seem to have cornered the market on development in the area. It is a strange place, Tamarindo. Originally a small fishing village, its conversion to a surfing/tourist destination has been deliberate.  At  first I thought I was imagining the Coastal Florida-Vibe, then (because I was avoiding admin work I KNOW I need to be doing) I did a little dive down the research rabbit hole and discovered: 

• Ground was broken for the hotel in 1973. 
• Electricity arrived in 1974. 
• 1977 Playa de  Tamarindo Aquaduct opens to provide a year-round water supply to the area 
• 1989  The Iguana Surf School opens
• 1994 Tamarindo gets telephone service
• 1994 Tamarindo is featured in the opening credits for ENDLESS SUMMER II 
• 1995 Tamarindo is incorporated into the municipality of Santa Cruz 
• 1995 Liberia Airport begins allowing commercial flights 

The hotel itself is fine. I mean, the older part of the hotel has a certain charm that I love: clean lines, clean decor palate. Sea view. The bar and restaurant staff are attentive. There are two really great staff on the front desk, the rest can be rotate between indifferent to condescending (case in point, I had a rip in a pair of trousers I wanted to sew but didn't have a needle. I asked a the front desk if they happened to have any sewing kits - not an unusual request, given that the hotel still issues small bottles of shampoo and shower gel). The building we end up in is across the street. It isn't terrible but it has a Vegas time share feel that makes me irritable. 

Could someone educate me on the point of a swim-up bar?   The family pool makes me feel trapped but that has more to do with having run out of reading material and my travel companions wanting only to sit by the pool. I sit for hours on the second day, staring out at the boats moored across the harbour.  I think about my grandparents, my father, St Thomas and the Shawna Marie. I think about my grandfather teaching me to help pull up the mainsail. About learning the basics of water convservation, about how to pack lightly, a skill I forget I have.  My heart is at war with itself in a field of memories one minute, then another I am back on the veranda, staring out at the ocean.

The entire experience wasn't terrible. I found an amazing hair stylist who helped right the misguided 'Woif Cut.' I had several interesting conversations with local residents, and we had some lovely meals but I just didn't feel connected to the place the way I did in Tortugeueo or even Monteverde.

My favourite food experience was Nogui Bar, which opened in 1974 ( the year my parents met, which could also explain the sense of 'Wait, have I been here before?). It was close enough to Walter's that jazz wandered over the night we were there without the music overwhelming.