Costa Rica

Full Circle in the Land of Pura Vida

01.23.2008 - 02.03.2008 90 °F
View The Big Trip on tommydavis's travel map.

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Last September I took a one-week trip to Costa Rica with a couple of engineering friends. I was one of an unfortunate class of people that I now call "two-weekers." These poor bastards who only get two weeks a year off of work and try to make the most of it by squeezing as many activities as possible into a sorely limited window of time. (What developed country would only give its citizens two weeks of vacation a year?)

As an even more unfortunate "one-weeker", I met several people who were pulling off trips of several months or more, and I was absolutely in awe. After all, who's subconscious does not harbor the slightest desire to wander to an unknown place with only what they can fit on their back? Well, I listened with fascination to tales of exotic lands and unadulterated fun and, after weighing the pros and cons of doing such a trip myself, making the decision to "piss-off" for a year was not very difficult. (More detail about this particular ramble in the next update.) What more appropriate place to finish off my year abroad than to return to Costa Rica, the "Land of Pura Vida?"

So what did I do this time around? Absolutely nothing new. I basically went to the same places and did the same things. It was nice to know what buses to catch, where to stay, etc, for a change. As you can see from the pictures, there was some surfing, Frisbee on the beach, zip lining and a disproportionate amount of partying. (Hey, I am finally able to celebrate the end of this massive trip!)

This time around, I was the guru traveler who knew all the ins, outs, and what-have-yous of skipping around the world. The "two-weekers" were in awe of my countless stories (perhaps by now, some of those stories are a bit exaggerated.) In fact, most of my sentences seemed to start with "When I was in Guatemala...", "A few months ago in Japan...", or my personal favorite: "Back when I was in 'Nam..." Either way, hanging out in "Gringolandia" ended up being a very pleasant way to spend my last few days abroad.

My faithful watch finally broke and border agents now give me a dirty look because they cannot find room for another stamp on my passport. Well, 376 days and 17 countries later, I suppose someone is telling me that it is time to go home.

Tom

Hmm... where should I go?