Yes, this is me. Slowly and painfully edging my way out of this place they call “pure vida”. Survivng here these years has turned me into a creature. I wanted to play National Geographic and that I did. Having stumbled onto Costa Rica, when it was wide open. Water falls, heat springs, no dirt roads, no ride signs. It was the best. It was adventuring into the wild. With the fauna and floral, size determined by season and state of the nation.
One adventure after another that have barely been touched on in this 700 page blog.
And now the party is over, (for us) and on for the next layer of fools.
I tip toed. It’s easy to see the rip offs. The lies. The beating. The murders. We have only been out in the night time here, maybe an equal to a week, in twenty five years.
I am now a fossil. One that can run, jump and swim.
But I am ready to go home. Battle the Bay Watch Babe with the Band Aid in the slit of her cheeks. I won’t Battle that bitch, I will look to the side. For a new venue. New water. One that she has not polluted and (she is a large representation).
I’ll have plenty to do.
I am packing as if I have already sold my home. It’s becoming more easy to sea. Easier to detach from since the clash with the Bahia Del Sol.
Costa Rica ain’t what it use to be.
I wish them all the luck in the world.
Pura Vida and we all know what that really means.
