Roadtrip to Manuel Antonio

So late Thursday night, Scott and I are in the bar, and he reminds me of a conversation we had with Jeni, Pepper, and Ozzie on Monday night about a pink sand beach south of Quepos.  Strangely, I didn't even REMEMBER the conversation, and I wasn't drinking on Monday.  So, I asked him who actually mentioned the pink sand beach, and he said it was Ozzie.  And here's the REALLY strange part... Ozzie wasn't here on Monday night!  So his story was suspect. 

It turns out that the conversation actually happened on Tuesday night, not at the bar but at Jeni's house, and it was, after calling all over town trying to find out who might have mentioned it, Fred who brought the pink sand beach to Scott's attention.  In any event, on Friday morning, we set out in search of the mystical place.  

We started in normal fashion, blasting music as we left this small town.  We stopped in Parrita first for a Cuba Libre, which is now our tradition, and Jeni and Pepper came up with the great idea to run by Ropa Americana (second-hand clothing).  They invented a game where we drew someone's name out of a hat, and we bought one item of clothing for that person, and that person had to wear that item all day.  So, we left the store after many laughs... Jeni sporting a pink shirt with Grover from Sesame Street on the front with script reading "Super Fly"... Pepper showing off the Jackson Five on her black T... And the boys all in random basketball jerseys, which gave birth to the now infamous Oeste Pistachios (named hours and hours later after the flavor of Pepper's ice cream in Manuel Antonio), consisting of Gonzalez, Poynter, Dos Dos, and our center, Bubba, who never showed.  

After a tough game against the local Parrita basketball team, where Gonzalez fouled out after 17 minutes in spite of the opposing team's forfeit for failure to appear, we continued on our journey south.  Perhaps the highlight of the entire trip was when we waited for 45 minutes or so for the bridge south of Parrita, where I eventually had to get out of the car and dance (see short clip below).  We took team photos (see above), and the girls made at least one construction worker's day.  Basically, we just impressed a hundred or so angry motorists with our skills for the better part of an hour.  

After the bridge was finally cleared, Jeni took us off the path to a sweet restaurant down on the river.  It's a nice little place - an old Panamian boat floating over the river south of Parrita which had been remodeled into a really quaint soda.  Oh, and it also burned down TWO YEARS AGO.  Well done Jeni.  Well done.  

We eventually arrived in Manuel Antonio, perhaps just kilometers from the enchanted beach that had drawn us already literally MILES from our own home, and finally got some amazing BBQ at a lean-to make-shift restaurant on the beach.  After lunch, we had a team huddle, and quickly decided to abandon our what now seemed impossible search for the pot of gold on the other side of the rainbow, and instead buy a bottle of rum and some juice to enjoy a drink or two on the beach in between body-surfing, kite flying, and frisbee tossing sets.  

Exhausted, we decided to start to make our way back at about 3:30 after a nap and some ice cream (thanks to Ally, perhaps our first fan, at the local gelato shop there on the strip).  Scott fought through the ridiculously hard rain, which finally let up just in time for us to dance a bit more as we waited again for the bridge to clear, this time heading north.  As we passed through Parrita, we stopped by Ropa Americana again, had some fun with hats and stuffed animals without spending a dime, and crossed the street for a last Cuba Libre before the final leg.  We went into the less-than-upscale grocery store, Pali, and got the rock star treatment our team deserves, as Gonzalez was ushered from the back of the line to a hidden register opened just for the Pistachios.  We're that cool. 

After about 20 minutes, we found ourselves still right in front of the grocery store, laughing and loving, without having even realized what we had become.  Yes, we had become those unshowered loiterers that hang out on the sidewalk in front of the grocery store in funny t-shirts and basketball jerseys, drinking cans of rum and coke and providing obstacles for the poor patrons trying to exit the store with their full carts of groceries.  And it was GLORIOUS.  The pistachios and their harem of cheerleaders gracing the Pali with their presence, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but bask in the glory of their recent victory.  We decided on one more Cuba Libre, and after some post-game stretching, we took off for home, where we got the type of non-existent hero's welcome we deserved, non-existent parade and all.  Life is good when you're a star. 

For all the pics, check out my facebook page.  I'll also put a link to it on the Lowtide facebook page.