PURA VIDA - PARTE DOS: Montezuma
If you know Montezuma, then you know. Basically, even with the slightest mention you’re going to Montezuma locals wherever you are want you to take them with you. Chances are if you're reading this and are one of those people who have been to Montezuma then you likely just let out a little, “le sigh” and were momentarily brought back to the quiet, laidback vibes of this charming coastal town. I’ve probably said too much.
For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure let me attempt to paint you a picture.
Just tucked away on the bottom inside of the Nicoya Peninsula, where the jungle meets the ocean is Montezuma. A quaint little town full of locals, tourists, lots of dogs (theme continued) and very cheeky monkeys. You quickly become accustomed to the scutter of fast moving feet on dry leaves as reptiles of all sizes scurry out of your way or don’t. The echoing sounds of the howler monkey no matter the time of day don’t ever stop being eerie. The ocean is warm and the river is cool; they both have their daily uses (the upper river pools, in particular, have become my favourite place to rinse off the salt water sans bathing suit). Days are long and warm and ruled by sunrise coffees and sunset cervezas. There are a bunch of surf breaks to choose from, the furthest away being Santa Teresa & Playa Hermosa at about 30-40 minutes. Some days the turtle sanctuary in front of us releases turtles and it never gets old. If and when it rains - it pours!
How lucky am I that I get to spend months here this winter? Beyond words - lucky. I know.
So, what am I doing down here besides soaking up as much culture as possible? Well, I’m doing some cooking at a surf camp. The dishes and culinary things I’ve learnt are so inspiring. We are fortunate to have access to happy organic chickens & eggs and all organic vegetables from local farms and a hookup for fresh fish. Hard to beat starting every morning with a fresh bowl of fruit and a side of passion fruit… beans & rice are of course also always available. The best part of kitchen life are all the chicas I get to work with each with something different to share. They have taught me how to cook their cuisine and I’m so honored to have them share secrets with me. Plus, we have one hell of a dance party most of the time and that warms my heart, makes me smile and miss my Alone kitchen gals. There should ALWAYS be music in the kitchen.
I’m feeling incredibly spoiled here if you can’t tell yet.
Coffee on the beach is my preferred spot but often I’d perch up at the bar in the morning and try to learn some more Spanish. After desayuno I’d walk over to Playa Grande for beach runs and ocean swims or I’d hike up to the waterfall to run stairs and swim. I even walked all the way to Cabuya one day for fun, via all the beaches of course. Thankfully there was a craft beer spot open for a refreshment before I trekked the 8km home. Guess I’m trying to say, my feet continue to take a beating and I’m grateful for them. I also found time everyday to just go and sit still in the shade with my eyes closed listening to the sets roll in and out crashing against the beach and then I’d go into them and wash it all away. It was healing and very much needed.
Because guess what? Turns out Christmas in a totally new place can still be just as triggering as being at home. It was my first no snow Christmas (I have ruled weather out as a trigger) instead it was already 30-34C at 0600. To state the obvious it was hot just like everyday but it was still a little weird. There was cookie decorating, we made ornaments to adorn potted palm trees and we ate turkey with gravy, mash potatoes and a bunch of other non-traditional sides followed by a pumpkin pie. It was perfect, delicious and fun. But my reality was that the whole week leading up to Christmas I had been struggling and I’d get mad at myself for feeling like shit in such a beautiful place. It lasted through to New Year’s, every day a little less. I had a pretty good talk with myself on one of my, “let’s just walk a long way to check out a beach” kind of days.
Where was my gratitude? What happened to my Pura Vida outlook? What did I need to pull myself out of this?
Those that deal with any form of PTSD or anxiety will likely understand that we are really the ones in control of our episodes, unfortunately if even they were brought up by something we didn’t ask for or expect. Not having some of my normal outlets that would usually calm me through anxiety attacks was a good push to find new ones and adapt to my surroundings. It wasn’t easy but I made it: still standing, thank you feet. They get easier but I’ve come to terms that PTSD is just something I am now living with. As I evolve, how I deal with it will also evolve because it turns up when you don’t want it sometimes and at the rate I move around I need to be ready. Here, I turned to the ocean and I wrote down what I was grateful for everyday. That turned into just writing again - one of my newer lost arts. As mentioned in my last words entry, parts of the old me had surfaced and they were a comforting place to turn to.
Every sunrise was a new day and I vow on my next trip to take more of them in vs. staying under the thin cover on my bed with my roommate curled up at my toes or “making biscuits” on my neck. That’s right I had a roommate, her name was Rio/River or gata loca. She has the voice of an ambulance when locked in our room against her will, loves a good gecko feeding, has the deepest purring affection you could imagine and watching her turn into a palm tree climbing bird chasing killer is pretty fun. It’s hard for me to admit that this little furball grew on me but she did. I think we were both a bit of a safe haven for each other. Maybe I could even take a page from her bravery as a kitten growing up in a jungle. I’m sure #shadowruffruff is baffled by what she’s witnessing but also probably stoked I have some company.
My countdown to returning to this haven is on but I’ve decided to take a few weeks detour to Nicaragua first; too close to not explore. My heart is craving all sorts of things right now and I’m just going to keep letting it run to those things. The dark mornings at home and gloomy weather have me missing the taste of salt on my lips and sand that doesn’t seem to ever wash off.
As I’ve said before, I didn’t anticipate falling for the life down in Central America like I did. All I can think is that it’s what I need right now and I’m not fighting it; my Raynaud’s Syndrome is probably my biggest supporter.
M.