Blog On Through To The Other Side -- The Costa Rica Diaries, Volume 5

“I’d rather laugh with the sinners
Than cry with the saints
The sinners are much more fun ...”
~~ Billy Joel



“Staring straight up into the sky
Oh my my
Solar system that fits in your eye
Microcosm
You can die but you’re never dead
Spider web
Take a look at the stars in your head
Fields of space, kid”
~~ Red Hot Chili Peppers, ‘Parallel Universe’




Top Five All-Time Sexiest Activities:

1) Kissing / Dancing in the rain.
2) Naked in a hot tub.
3) Sex on the beach.
4) Afternoon in bed, particularly if it’s raining or snowing outside. Any sort of precipitation, really. A fireplace helps.
5) Intimate massages.

P.S. What makes water so sexy?




By the time of the second fire, the party was already in full swing. The first came at dusk, as we were finishing dinner. The guides wanted to rid their cabin of an enormous nest of bees, and decided best course of action was to smoke the bastards out.

But in Costa Rica, a small fire or torch isn’t sufficient. No way, Pura Vida. They built a stack of firewood that lit the whole camp when they set it ablaze. When the bees were gone or stunned, they tossed the honeycomb into a bucket, and we had a sample of warm, fresh honey. As if the coconuts, mangoes, papayas, lemons, limes and cashews fresh off the trees weren’t enough.

It was our final night on the beach (we were moving camp to the river the following night), so we had a farewell speech from the park ranger, and received special permission to build a bonfire on the shore. I think he knew we’d have built the damn thing anyway.

While people searched for driftwood, the excitement was too much for everyone else. We started drinking.

Each group was allotted enough vodka and juice to make one screwdriver per person, plus any alcohol we had left over from the rest of the week -- two large cans of beer, in our case, plus two flasks partially filled with Jack. My group was named Team Disco Flask, partly due to the Jack, and partly due to a tiny disco ball the girls had hung in their tent. We stood around the table, said a few words and did a toast to Team Disco Flask with shots of the foulest vodka any of us had ever tasted. The orange juice barely diluted its vicious bite. But this was a party, dammit, and I was thrilled to be drinking anything that wasn’t rum.

Pura Vida.

With so little to drink, everyone pounded what they had, and by the time the bonfire was roaring we were all fairly drunk. Matt pulled his SUV down to the beach and opened the tailgate, piping music from his tape deck.

Things went Well for me that night. Our sixth and final group member overcame the Government Conspiracy that threatened to hold her in L.A. for her entire spring break, and she managed to join our group on Tuesday. She added an entirely new dynamic, and by Thursday I couldn’t help but like her. She was beautiful, laughed a lot and conversations with her were always … lively, to say the least.

This night, she was being aggressively flirty with me, and I was thrilled to flirt back. A group of us finished the alcohol we had, then stared up at the stars and savored our final night on the beach. Eventually, the group thinned out, leaving the girl and I alone by the fire. Matt had long since packed up his party wagon and left the beach.

While a bonfire on the beach has a romantic ring to it, it was actually very hot. We were in a tropical climate, and building fires is not the Wisest of moves, as far as comfortable temperatures are concerned.

“What do you say we move away from this fire?” I ask.

She agreed, and I grabbed my sheet from the tent. We walked a little ways down the beach, but we were still a little tipsy and didn’t make it very far. We spread the sheet out and sat close to one another.

I like pre-sex banter, and I think I’m different than most men in that regard. Maybe men are too impatient to appreciate anticipation. Or maybe most men don’t know for certain they’re getting laid until it actually happens.

But I knew, and that’s a fantastic feeling. Don’t get me wrong – this wasn’t any sort of personal mojo on my end. My smoothness was ejected from my body along with a stomach-load of rum earlier that week. I’d done little to put us in our current position, laughing and kissing on the beach. She wanted it, and it was entirely my good fortune to have been there with her.

And let’s not forget the atmosphere. The rainforest was as dark and mysterious as ever. Lightning bugs drifted lazily over the beach. The glowing waves rushed perpetually toward the shore. Over our heads, there was a patch of clear sky, affording us a modest view of those magnificent stars. But that clear patch dissolved into Ferocious clouds over the ocean. In the distance, we could see brilliant bolts of lightning striking the water in slow rhythm. Electricity was in the air that evening, I tell you. The air was filled with excited tension. This was the calm before the storm.

Pura Vida.

Between the moon and the waves and the bonfire I could see her, little more than a silhouette, but beautiful under the nighttime sky. Her kisses were warm and sweet and savory, and everything seemed to be straight out of a movie …




Aside: My Life As A Movie

There’s a part in the novel High Fidelity where Laura spits a vehement question at Rob: “Everyone’s just a supporting character in the movie of your life, aren’t they?”

I understand that this question is meant to be a caustic attack on his ego, but I can’t help but sympathize with his response: “Isn’t that true for everyone?”

We all see the world through our own lens. Memories flicker through our consciousness like our own personal film stock. These memories can even become slightly exaggerated, fabricated or otherwise fictitious -- idealized over time. I think Rob’s point is valid. It’s sort of like how we all star in our own dreams, while the other people and places in them shift constantly. This ego trip is something we all share. It is the Human Condition. Besides, if I were directing the movie of my life, I could not have made that night any better, any more real, any further stylized. Aside from the occasional pause to retrieve water or go to the bathroom, it was picture perfect. And I never would have thought of the lightning. That was a brilliant touch.



Afterward, we stretched out next to each other, and listened to the gentle crash of the waves. I began brushing sand off my body, and she let out a soft laugh (oohhh, what a sexy laugh!).

“What’s so funny?” I asked, smiling.

“Sex on the beach really isn’t that sexy,” she said.

I laughed. She’s right. We were both blanketed in sand. We were Dirty from a week’s worth of camping and hard labor in the hot sun. The damn insects were biting us everywhere. But we were both laughing because it had been damn fun anyway. And in my opinion, all the uncomfortable displeasures of the beach scene only add to the exotic, erotic flavor. Sex on the beach is Dirtier than anticipated, but -- Pura Vida – it’s sexy anyway. I’m keeping it in my top five.

We walked back to the camp and sat outside our tents talking. This was Weird. Not awkward in any sense, just Weird. I got to know her better afterward than before. And she was genuinely fun to be around – a Biology major with a minor in … wait for it … music. Hot. Eventually we were talking and laughing so loud Carney poked his head out of the tent and hissed at us.

We weren’t tired enough to sleep; we were having too much fun. We walked down the beach in the other direction, past dark lumps that might have been driftwood or other lovers. I decided to show her the Amazing Discovery I’d made earlier that week.

Some of the bioluminescent dinoflagellates (that phrase belongs in a rap song) get trapped in the sand when the waves rush over it. When the waves recede, and you step on the wet sand, tiny little glowing green pinpoints appear – a sparkling outline of your footprint.

She loved it. She was so delighted she began hopping down the beach, watching her feet and squealing with laughter.

Yeah, this is bio-nerdy. But I’m a zoologist, dammit, and between you and me, I found it sexy. I began jumping down the beach with her. We attempted to see if we could make different patterns of sparkles (sort of) until finally we were tired and headed back to Camp.

She gave me a surprisingly warm kiss, and we crawled into our tents.

I fell asleep smiling.

Pura Vida.

~ Sketch E.