Keeping it Tico

Christmas Sunset ~ Playa Potrero

Four of us ventured out to the beach, three carrying rod and reel, one a swimmer. All day, I had waited for this. First, we deposited our shoes at the hotel, fence corner. You must always wear shoes that are so ugly and cheap, no one will steal them. Then we began walking and casting. We were passed by a group of tico youths, chasing the birds and a large school of fish below them. They were laughing and tossing their lures. One fish was caught, as they continued to run.

We meandered slowly in the other direction, headed north, toward the river mouth. You could see thirty fishermen, in the distance, wading in the tide. They were shirtless and wearing colorful hats. All, had landlines; plastic spools that hold their line. They cast like cowboys roping a steer.

I walked the furthest, getting closer to the crowd than the others. Then I turned back towards home, thinking of the fifteen pound, jack that I had caught the day before. The sun was setting and the colors in the water changed from purple, to orange, to red. I watched the light show and dreamed of painting.

The novice in our group reeled one in. His devotion was equal to the best anglers.

He would still be there casting, if we didn’t bring him home.

Earlier we cooked our Christmas sweets, for home and a party.

The gringo party was with church friends. I enjoyed myself.

But really in my heart, I like Tico. That’s why I came here.

I know I’m not Tico. I just like living like one.

Kind of ~ Sort of ~