This ain't no blog

chronicles of a modern bohemian with itchy feet

I know your type

That’s what he said, while showing us to our room. Funny how four little words can swipe a girl off her feet like that. The next words that did the trick were “you look beautiful in the morning”, baring in mind that my right eye was swollen big time thanks to 3 mosquito’s who bit my tiny eyelid and that I had only slept for 4 hours.

I wondered why they didn’t adjust their timezone. I was getting up at 6 or 7 AM every day and 12 hours later it was dark as hell. They should move up time for at least 2 hours or so.

Cheesy lines might have impaired my judgement a little, but any unbiased traveller would agree that La Oveja Negra is a great place to stay. Set aside the fact that I can’t imagine liking Tamarindo if I were to go there in high season.

We planned to stay at a more pristine beach, especially since we still had Don Manuel (our 4WD) to get us anywhere but this tourist trap. But none of them had the vibe we were looking for to spend our last nights together, so we would just have a look at Tamarindo and probably drive through to the next village the same day. Little did we know that we would stay there until 4 AM on the day that Bri had to catch her flight and rush off after a short nap.

It’s a big hostel with a diverse crowd, from 20-year-old German girls to the 30-ish French guys I already had great nightly conversations with back in La Fortuna. And if hanging around the pool table while having some beers isn’t your scene, there is much to do only a short walk away.

During the day, it’s all about surfing. We preferred sun bathing, reading and getting a massage on the beach. And piña colada’s.  That’s the funnest part of touristic places. Every hour is Happy Hour.

beachCentral Americapura vida

pam • September 5, 2014

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