Beach and Speech in Guanacaste

I left the Arias-Leitons, my Tico (Costa Rican) family, on Friday morning with friends I've made from the school in El Tanque. One of the kindergarten teachers, her sister and her Uncle and Aunt invited me to go with them to Playa Hermosa on the Pacific coast. The 4 hour drive took us through the Guanacaste region's dry heat and parched fields full of thin white cows, to a small set of apartments 100 metres from the beach where we stayed on Friday and Saturday nights.

Playa Hermosa is a beautiful sweep of a beach, with postcard-worthy yellow sand and waves big enough to be interesting but not dangerous, and as we bobbed in those on Saturday evening Hermosa gave us a brilliant red sunset. It felt great to be with locals and it was useful to have a car as we also drove to Playa Del Coco (which isn't as attractive), and Playa Occital where the sand is almost black and the sea washes in pretty patterned shells and pink coral. Playa Del Coco does have the Lizard Lounge though, where we all went to dance (to reggaeton, though I'm pretty sure its impossible to dance to) and drink Imperial beer late on Saturday night.

They're really friendly people and despite me not having enough Spanish to be involved in the more fast paced (i.e. most) conversations, we had a fun weekend and I'll definitely stay in touch with them. I was pleased to have arranged more Spanish lessons for the following week though, as I felt ready to learn more and learn properly.

So on Sunday evening I found a bus to Playa Flamingo, and an hour or so later I rolled into a place built around the upscale tourist trade - so much so that it used to be called Playa Blanca but after the Flamingo Beach Resort (a large hotel complex) was built, the beach changed its name. There really isn't much in the small town as the hotels and their guest services are pretty self contained behind their security guarded gates, and though it doesn't feel like a tacky resort it's certainly nothing like a typical tico town. But I was predominantly there to spend my last week in Costa Rica having some private Spanish lessons at the CPI language school (which were great).

And of course I was there for the beach too, which I'd heard was amazingly beautiful. And it really is. Sun-bleached and wave-battered trees twist and stretch out from the beach edge to the warm and crystal clear Pacific ocean. Rolling waves tower and curl and crash into the white sand as Pelicans surf the breeze and then dive for fish in the cresting waves. And for the most part the beach was almost empty of people, perhaps a combination of it being low season and the impact of the economic crisis. My routine tended to be: Spanish lessons in the morning, homework in the afternoon, beach for the early evening till sunset. Exactly the kind of week I wanted.

I also took the bus to nearby Playa Conchal, so named as it's a beach of shells not sand, and it had lots of tourists enjoying the clear waves that lap against the rocks there. That's also a lovely beach, more compact with a small rocky headland and some unique shells underfoot, though running along the stretch of Playa Conchal is an up-market resort, from where the mostly American tourists seem to emanate. A very short walk over a little sandy hill is Playa Brasilito, which is a complete contrast. The beach is less steep, has no bathers, and its dark sand is used as a road by some. Along its edge, toward the few cafes and makeshift souvenir stands that surround the football pitch of Brasilito, the beach is overlooked by locals homes. And in front of their brightly painted wood walls and corrugated tin roofs, the sea breeze swings their hammocks, cools their dogs and dries their washing.

On my last day in Playa Flamingo, my penultimate in Costa Rica, I finished looking over my last few Spanish notes as a rain storm spent itself over the town in the early afternoon. Then I ventured down to the beach for one last dip and a final sunset. The deserted beach was soggy from the rain and the sky was mottled with drifting grey storm clouds. I bobbed in the ocean and let the occasional towering wave dunk me in and throw me back out amongst the bubbly froth in its wake. From the warm shallows on the edge of the water I watched the sun on its way down pierce its cloudy cover with perfect shafts of light beamed to all corners of the sky. As the sun slipped from behind the plump purple clouds it set the vast sky a-glow with a rich orange light. Then as it slid beneath the far-away waves, the patchy clouds turned a paint box of colours that reflected on the ripples of the ocean, giving me a most spectacular final memory of Costa Rica.