Updated: Jun 18
Once I was out of the only-me resort, I hit the dirt path once again, and made my way into civilization....
Actually, I’m lying.
Before I hit Samara, I checked out of The Flying Crocodile, and hit nearby Playa Barrigona.
And subsequently... Red me.
I am slowly trying to re-introduce my roly poly oly belly to the sunshine again… and it's suffering ever so slightly. It gets about 15 minutes exposure per day and that’s probably too much. I now have this big red blotch plastered over my starch belly!
Once I had my fill of beach and sunshine time, I got back in my Bird and ventured into Samara.
... and it only took the crossing of one river.
I can honestly say, so far, of all the towns I have explored over the past three weeks, Samara has become my favourite. Not too incredibly touristy… nothing too pretentious at all. Samara is very locally owned and locally loved with a laid back atmosphere and a pura vida aura … and oh, the beaches…. the beautiful, palm-lined, pristine beaches.
My hotel was booked on a whim. It seemed cheap and reasonable, conveniently located… unlike the remote Flying Croocodile. I was only staying one night, so I booked, crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.
Well, the best is what I got. It had the undeniable characteristics of a regular hostel… but ALL the good ones outweighed any bad ones! I had a small, private room in what appeared to be almost a tree-house -like structure. My wee apartment came with a twin bed, built right into the wall, my own bathroom and my very own balcony, hammock and all.
It had a pool, communal cooking facilities, public lounge, massage therapist, yoga classes… It was an absolute gem and I can’t speak highly enough about it.
It was divine.
This is exactly the reason I keep on giving hostels a chance, regardless of previous and frequent nightmare experiences. There was a screaming baby... but I let that slide.
There was no complimentary breakfast, but they did provide a large vat of fresh coffee in the morning. There was sugar... but no complimentary milk, so I had to open the fridge and steal a little bit from “Julie.”
Thank you, Julie, whoever you are.
I explored the little town... did a walk on the beach... feasted on octopus tacos (which were delicious)... drank a lemonade slushy... visited the Belen Waterfalls... bought a few trinkets... it was bliss. Just a couple lazy days in Samara and exactly what I needed. Then I popped back to my oasis to dip myself into the pool and hang out in my hammock, on my own personal tree house balcony...
This was the life.
If I had to pick anywhere to settle down in Costa Rica, Samara would be it. I was kicking myself for having not booked more time here. Well... maybe kicking myself for having booked The Flying Crocodile, outside of town, originally...
I met up with Junnie, Caroline and Liam at a little Mexican restaurant called Frida’s and, of course, we all split delicious bean-coated nachos! The bean load was a little excessive, it was actually quite ridiculous how many beans were on these nachos, and we all ending up feeiing the lasting effects of the musical fruit.
How was I to know that the very next day, I would get lost in the jungle?...