Dispatch From the Beach Town

Tamarindo is a dusty, hot, funky, hippieish, one-road town with a lovely, expansive beach, and waves that sustain 10-year-olds to 60-somethings with their long, roiling advance. Numerous surf, t-shirt, and trinket shops, old and new hotels, up-scale crafts and art boutiques, are home to an international cast of tanned expatriots, funky locals, enthusiastic tourists, dogs on the beach and in the bars and iguanas crawling through the landscaping.

Our hotel offers nice cabanas, a small bar and restaurant near a small, cold swiming pool, and quick access to the beach. Our kids have swam, surfed, boogie-boarded, sun-bathed, hunted for shells, danced to Brazilian music, eaten grilled sea bass (and Subway sandwiches), bought yet more souvenirs, and lamented the fact that the trip is soon coming to an end. Indeed, we end tonight with dinner, cards by the pool, a birthday party for Cheryl (with cake supplied by the French bakery down the road), packing and loading of the bus, and leaving by 4am to drive down the bumpy savannah road back to Liberia for an 8am flight out to Houston.

Did we mention the bumpy roads of Costa Rica--apparently the country has a very high fuel tax that should pay for massive road improvements, but a large percentage of the money is still going toward other services. We have bounced and bumped our way through most of the country--only the famous Pan American Highway has offered speeds over 50mph.

If I can gather enough energy to return to the hotel, fighting sunburn, jungle bites & vacation fatique, I will return to this air-conditioned internet cafe to post pictures and some more stories from the kids.

best

Robert