Sámara

The first week of our holidays is gone. We travelled to Sámara, in the province of Guanacaste.

Bus full
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We headed off on Monday, cutting it a bit fine in getting to the bus station. By the time we got there the Sámara bus was full. So we had to get a later bus to Nicoya, and then a local bus from there. As you travel down from the central valley you notice the temperature rising considerably.

Sámara
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Sámara is a small town with a very big beach. It’s on the Pacific coast in the beautiful province of Guanacaste. We had directions from Shane to a hotel he’d stayed in before. It’s right on the beach. We were even able to pop back several times for a beer from the fridge.

Intercultura Sámara
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The school I work in has another campus in Sámara. We popped down to it because we were trying to make contact with Tom and Elena. The school is beautiful. It has a long garden that goes right down to the beach. It’s totally air conditioned, and also holds a lot of classes in the garden. We met my boss Barbara while we were down there. She said it’s a great place to work, but there’s nothing left to do after about two weeks.

Sun and palm trees
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The beach itself is really beautiful. It’s like a picture postcard, with the palm trees running all around, and a 3km long beach and big waves full of surfers. And it was hot. Despite plastering ourselves with factor 25 we both now have tomato heads. But our favourite thing was popping down to the beach at night before we went out. We’d take a few cans onto the sun loungers and watch the distant lightning. I think it may have been storms on the perimeter of hurricane Dennis.

Ridin’ along in my pushbike
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On Friday we hired bikes and went on a 14km round trip to the next beach along, Playa Carillo. This was even more beautiful, and with less people. All week we swam in the warmest sea water I’ve ever been in. I’m normally such a coward about taking the plunge. The only drawback was that Jack emerged after one dip with a jellyfish sting on his foot. There must have been 100 people in the sea, and he was the only one chosen by the discerning fish.

We’d actually visited Carillo the evening before, but were waiting ages for the bus and ended up hitching there and back. On each occasion the first vehicle to pass stopped for us. An ancient VW minivan on the way out, and a Cherokee Jeep on the way back.

Caribbean here we come
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We’re back in Heredia now, but heading off to Puerto Viejo de Talamanca in the morning. Not wishing to leave the tickets to fate tomorrow, I headed off today (in the pouring rain!) to the Gran Terminal del Caribe bus terminal. The Grand Caribbean Terminal. Don’t you think Busarus should be called Gateway to the Atlantic or something? We head off on the lunchtime bus, and should be there around 5.30.

It’s an awful tough life out here, dragging ourselves from coast to coast in the hot sun. But we struggle on …