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And now, on with the show...

Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica

Puerto Viejo. It's a sleepy town. Only maybe sleepier. A cup of Costa Ricans, a cup of Caribbean Island transplants, a cup of threadbare tourists with dreadlocks. Season heavily with coconut trees, warm sea water and more than a few sprinkles of rain. Drink slowly, since nothing is happening fast here—except for maybe the fickleness of the weather, a constant oscillation between rain and not.

We arrived early in the day yesterday. I think it was about ten. Nothing was open and the streets were empty. Which meant you couldn't eat from any of the restaurants with the brightly colored hand painted signs or buy board shorts from the stores with brightly colored hand painted signs or buy a knick knack from an artisan who had the skill to make and hang their very own brightly colored hand painted sign. They're really into the signage here.

We didn't walk far before we were offered drugs numerous times by some dreadlocked locals. Then again, we couldn't have walked far. There's nowhere to walk. The town is barely a town. It's more of a tiny village, hidden away in the far southeast corner of the country.

But, some symbiosis must occur here. Surf, sand, coconuts, beauty. Surfers, hippies, vagabonds, fuckos. There seems to be a balance in this place—a completion of the circle. The sluggish pace seems natural and the simple hand–to–mouth industries feel so right. Feeding people allows a married couple to feed themselves; an older man rents freshly–erected, humble cabanas on land near his house; a surfer sells coconuts he plucks from a nearby tree.

The hammock. They aren't comfortable. And, in a beach town like this the tend to be infested with lice, gout, scabies, and other diseases carried by unclean creatures like surfers, hippies, and Canadians, eh. I'm not sure why anyone would want to sleep on one. Yet, they are an icon of relaxation, a symbol of a deep indulgence into the land of leisure.

I've never experienced this sort of thing. It's the paradise we read about in books and see in movies. It's the Caribbean ocean—a place that I never considered to be real. And the vibe. Let's put it this way: I've never seen so many hammocks in one place.

I'm not sure how compatible my natural frequency is with this place—I like things fast, furious, and nonstop. But, I like new things, so I'm ready to dive into life in the slow lane and give it a shot. As long as I don't have to sleep in a hammock.