The Accidental Beachside Spa In Puerto Viejo (part one)

By BobbyRica | March 29, 2011

reaching-puerto-viejo

It’s finally happening! After all the craziness in Witch’s Rock and Cano Island, I finally got my dream girl to go out with me on a holiday. Finishing up loose ends from our last adventure took some waiting. But all that got sorted out. In no time at all, my Madeline Stowe-lookalike hopped in with me in my Land Rover Defendor as we sped off to the sunset.

Now that would have been a happy ending. But as you would expect reading from this blog, nothing pans out as you would expect. From one adventure, we managed to get ourselves into a whole new one. It might not be as dangerous, but this one manages to make the once cold Fulvia Mallorica warm up to me.

costa-surf-map-caribbean

From San Jose, I decided to go to one of the most happening place in Costa Rica. That’s none other than Puerto Viejo. It’s probably the best place to visit when you’re in a partying mood. You see this place is a haven for surfers. They come here for the Salsa Brava wave. There’s always parties to be had especially during the summer. And you can enjoy swimming and exploring miles upon miles of beach without getting bored.

So off we went. I knew the roads by heart. But I soon found out that talking to Fulvia can sometimes demand my full attention. She was chatting about her life before being in the FBI. She had been a foster child and had gone from one guardian to the next. But Fate must have smiled on her when she went to her fifth and final foster home. There she met Pietro, an inventor who at age fifty sparked something inside her. She became fond of Pietro. Soon they developed into a father/daughter relationship that she would cherish right up till his death three years ago.

puerto viejo

I had gotten so caught up in her story that I must have lost my turn.
The minute I realized this, we were already somewhere I was unfamiliar with. It was late morning. But the sun was up high and blazing. My throat was beginning to get dry.

I decided to go further into the road, hoping that there would be a place to buy water and snacks. But we only passed more jungle forest.

All this time, I didn’t say anything to Fulvia. But as girls are, she easily picked up on my anxiety. She gave me this concerned (and somewhat disappointed) look. “We’re lost, aren’t we?”

Puerto-Viejo-seaside jungle

I was about to answer when I heard the unmistakable sound of the surf. We are approaching a beach! Not only that, I hear musical instruments playing!

I eased the Land Rover down to cruising speed so we can find where the sound was coming from. We were still surrounded by jungle. But maybe the sounds will help us navigate.

“There!” pointed Fulvia to our right,” The sound is coming from there.” Even though we can still see vines and trees, there is something amiss just beyond it. I can make out a few vague figures dancing in the distance.

I put on the brakes and we immediately got out of the truck. We followed the sound of what appears to be calypso music.

“Hmmm, is that coconut I smell?” Fulvia turned up her nose in surprise, “such a lovely smell…”

We weaved our way into the vines and branches that blocked the commotion a few yards away. Fulvia stopped me and looked at me conspiratorially. We didn’t know what we were going to step into. I just wished the beach floor wasn’t so damn rocky!

“Maybe they’re having an orgy!” I said with an evil grin.

puerto-viejo-beaches

I thought that we may have wandered into someone’s private resort. I was ready for an explanation if someone accuses us of crashing.

But as soon as things came to full view, what was waiting for us caught us by surprise. What I saw made me drop the machete I was holding. What I saw made my jaw drop (yet again!). I couldn’t believe my eyes when right before us were a group of young and beautiful ticas dancing. They were all buck naked. And they were frolicking in a small pool beside the rocky shore.

If Fate smiled at Fulvia for finding her a surrogate father, maybe this time — Fate must be smiling down at me too.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

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