Monday, we decided it was time for a road trip. We hopped in the car and headed south
along the coast, toward Manuel Antonio.
It was a gorgeous day.
The sky was the perfect shade of blue, with puffy wisps of cloud and a
brightly shining sun overhead.
While Thomas drove, I surfed the radio dial and made sure we were
staying on course—we passed through fields and fields of palm trees, small
towns, and expanses of coastline.
Almost 75 kilometers later, or about 47 miles, we had arrived. We were spending the day at the home of
Costa Rica’s smallest, yet one of the most visited, national parks. We decided to forego the park for the
beach and, after parking the car, grabbed some lunch at a restaurant and bar
down the street. It was pretty
good… I got a chicken sandwich and fries, while Thomas got a casado (typical
Costa Rican fare). We enjoyed soda
out of glass bottles and listened to the sounds of the beach from the upper
level open dining area as we ate.
From lunch, we crossed the street and climbed down the
embankment to the beach. I swear,
it was like I had settled into a dream.
White sandy beaches, turquoise waves, surfers and sunbathers
galore. Together, we located a
spot in the shade and set up camp.
Oh, it was wonderful.
Even on a Monday, the beach was bustling with activity. We laid out, spent some time in the
water (though the waves were pretty intense and more unpredictable than at
Playa Jaco), did some reading—me—and took some photos—him. It felt like
paradise, being there in Manuel Antonio.
I wish we could have had more time there, and I hope next time we can
visit both the beach and the park.
(Right now, I can still hear the water crashing onto the shore, can feel
the breeze on my skin.)
Eventually, we packed up and dusted off some of the sand
we’d gathered. We stopped for some
super refreshing smoothies, which were the perfect pick-me-up before getting
back in the car for our drive back to Jaco. We turned on the radio and headed back through the mountains
and palm trees, north along the Pacific.
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