"War parties fell into line on either side,
dredging up old grudges under the banners of a new conflagration.
At one point a jungle sicario was even mentioned."
You been to Costa Rica before? It is to the US
as Bali is to Australia. A tropical getaway close to home.
Comfortable. Non threatening. A modern-day ctrl alt dlt for $499
return.
It’s a beautiful place. Tacos and dime bags and warm water.
Consistent, user-friendly waves. A culture going back thousands of
years (the Guanacaste tribes predated even the Maya). Old
jungle.
I worked there for a couple seasons as a surf instructor. My
secret shame. Pushing god knows how many VALs into
their first waves. VALs that
should now, by my calculation, be paddling in front of you on their
7S fishes,
and, in some cases, for the more advanced, Hypto Kryptos, in
the fight for two-foot closeouts at your local.
VALs that
are penning op-eds on The
Inertia about how surfing needs to become more
inclusive and democratic.
But I jest.
I met many lovely people. Made friends for life from all over
the world etc.
Surfing is massive for the country. The town I lived in was
essentially built around the first surf school, circa twenty,
twenty-five years previous. It’s now a thriving wellness centre
with dozens of high-end surf and yoga retreats, holidaying A-List
Hollywooders and supermarkets selling expensive cheeses.
The Ticos are a well adjusted, friendly people. Progressive. No
standing military since the forties, despite having the
fight-loving Nicaraguans on their northern border. Powered by 98%
renewables. Per capita one of the happiest places in the world.
But, like any developing country with a reliance on western
tourism, there’s an undercurrent of antipathy towards gringos.
Especially ones like me that move there and take jobs. Me and the
Mrs was robbed twice in one three-month stretch.
Home invasions, everything gone. Perpetrated by the same little
crew. We knew who they were. They knew we knew. Things got pretty
heavy. War parties fell into line on either side, dredging up old
grudges under the banners of a new conflagration. At one point
a jungle
sicario was even mentioned. Can you imagine it!
In the end, we decided to split. It wasn’t our turf. We got the
message. A lesson for me on staying in your own lane. Plus I’m a
massive, massive fucking wuss.
But, I digress.
Costa Rica loves surfing so much that they’ve gone and made a
National Day for
Surfing, in recognition of its value to the
country.
Well, ain’t that swell? Will we ever see one in Aus, US, NZ,
EU?
What would you do on your National Day of Surfing?
Would you celebrate it in the water with all your new VAL
friends? Or would Australians, say, marinate at home with a
Skegss
album, a favourite piece of quit-lit, braiding beards
and wondering where it all went wrong?
And, tell me, what’s your best run in with the locals story?