On the advice of the hotel mom, Marie, we decided to go to Flamingo Beach. She said it was a beautiful white sand beach, but the wave break is pretty strong, and I should be careful. She also recommended a restaurant on the beach called CocoLoco. So we hired a car and driver, whose name was Orlando, and set off, bathing suits under our shorts and shirts.

We already knew about Flamingo Beach because our driver Roger said it was very nice and he lived there. He also said there used to be roseate ibis there, which would be exciting to see. People mistook the ibis for flamingoes—hence the name. I doubt there are many ibis left there, as it has been developed. It looks nice to us, but I am sure it ruined the ibis neighborhood.

We rented a tent for shade and some chaise lounges. There was very little shade on the beach, and I am a very white person who burns badly. (Of course, I was wearing sunscreen, but sunscreen only goes so far.)

I waded into the water. Marie was right about the break, but getting out was no problem. The waves were powerful, but small, breaking almost on the beach. Past the surf line, it was still quite shallow very far out. I was cautious about my feet, thinking there might be stingrays. But I didn’t see a single, solitary fish of any sort as I bobbed around in the warm water.

Getting back to the beach through those waves was another matter entirely. The waves broke hard, and then pulled strongly back out. Having grown up swimming in the ocean, I allowed them to knock me down, relaxing into the force and not resisting, trying not to put strain or torque on my knee or shoulder, but making steadily towards the shore when possible. I was absolutely astonished when one of those little waves knocked me down and boiled me! Having learned to survive boiling in the much larger waves of Southern California, I wasn’t hurt. Eventually I found my feet and crawled onto the beach, dripping with compacted sand that filled my bathing suit.

Then Tom went in (we took turns because leaving our stuff unattended would be stupid, right?). Tom saw myriads of baby manta rays (they do not sting), swimming everywhere and surfing in the waves! I could see them in the breaking waves. Evidently, they do it for fun, because they swim back out and go again. He also saw a four foot fish with a dorsal fin that might have been a shark. But the shark, if that’s what it was, was uninterested in him.

When Tom returned, we packed up and walked the short distance to CocoLoco. We sat at a table on the beach and ordered margaritas. Tom had yellowfin tuna tacos. I had taquitos with chicken, and we shared a watermelon-feta-cashew salad. We ordered more margaritas, and then Orlando showed up, right on time. When we returned to the hotel, I showered in my suit and the amount of sand that flooded out was astounding. Then I went for a brief dip in the hotel pool, which was cool and refreshing. Then I took the suit off and took a real shower. I discovered that my cleverly-designed bathing suit, in addition to drying slowly, was fashioned with many clever nooks and crannies, apparently ideal for sand storage. Another avalanche of sand in the shower.

We ate at Dragonfly again. This time I had beef empanadas and the kale salad. Delicious. The music was ghastly—a monotonous bass beat with an electric guitar tootling around it. Every number sounded just like every other number. I guess people would rather listen to any kind of music rather than have an actual conversation.

Today was the first day since we arrived at Tamarindo that I didn’t take a siesta. Maybe I am acclimating?

Tomorrow we leave for a week in Manuel Antonio, near a large biological reserve. I had my doubts about TamaGringo when we arrived, but we had an enjoyable stay. I can’t close without mentioning how they manage dust control here. They periodically come through and spray the streets from a huge truck. But it’s not water. It’s something with molasses in it, probably combined with oil, because it collects in the ruts, but doesn’t evaporate. The bugs don’t go for it either, although it is sticky with sugar. It sits there in odiferous, dark-brown puddles, making walking all the more interesting.