costa rica day 5 | jungle love, puerto viejo

Well. After being initiated into Puerto Viejo with shots of Guaro, I woke up in the starring role of the unfortunate movie, Guaro's Revenge. I was a little hungover. Okay, that's an understatement.

Zan woke up early to go fishing, and I slept in. Around 10am, I plopped into the hammock on our porch to plan the rest of my day. Next thing I knew, it was two hours later, and I hadn't moved an inch. By noon, Zan wasn't back yet and I knew it was then or never to get myself moving. I tossed on my bathing suit, packed a beach bag, and before I could leave Zan a note, he walked through the door. He was dejected from not catching anything, but "it was a nice boat ride." He always sees the bright side. Speaking of bright side, his arms were lobster red ("he's my lobster!").

We biked into Puerto Viejo for lunch at Soda Mirna, our first taste of Tico food in the south. It was a basic meal of braised chicken, rice, beans, and plantains. It was a hearty, good meal... but even at a restaurant as local as it gets, lunch was $20. I can't get over how expensive this country is!

We biked to a beach in Playa Cocles, a small town before Playa Chiquita, really close to the Jaguar Rescue Center. It wasn't as beautiful as the beaches yesterday, but in paradise, the beaches are all just shades of gorgeous. It's a locals beach, evidenced by the handful of guys we saw wading out to their thighs before throwing fishing line into the surf. A few had buckets of fish they'd already caught.

We left with enough time to check out Alice's Ice Cream Bar, a place we'd passed (and somehow resisted) the day before. An American expat couple owns it. The wife, Alice, makes all of the ice cream with hand run machines, and her husband runs the business side of things. The husband is from DC so we had plenty to talk about over the rich, creamy coffee and dark chocolate ice cream we devoured.

For dinner, we took a taxi ($8) to Jungle Love, a raved about restaurant in the quiet town of Playa Chiquita. We got lucky that a couple had canceled their reservation, and we nabbed one of the 5 tables right away. All of the tables are outside in the open air, a simple roof overhead, and the jungle encroaching from all sides.

The owners are an expat couple. Zamu is a character. He's a big guy - very muscular - from Oakland, California. He has a penchant for pithy, philosophical phrases and an ability to talk to anyone. He told us right away that it was our night, and the entire, beautiful meal made us feel that way. Most of the ingredients are either grown on their property (lemongrass and herbs) or locally sourced.

I had Zamu's sausage pasta ("I know the guy who makes the sausage"), and Zan had sea bass, the fish of the day. Zan had a religious experience with his fish and the basil-ginger sauce on it; I found the ragu a little sweet for my tastes but the dish as a whole hearty, warm, and crave-worthy. Zamu's wife (a charismatic, expert traveler with a contagious laugh) sold us on a cinnamon brownie with homemade coffee ice cream from a local farm. That ice cream was so rich and creamy, and I want more even thinking about it.

With a bottle of wine, two entrees, two apps, and a dessert, our bill came to about $65 with tip. It was probably the most reasonably priced meal out here, and we weren't even charged for incredible conversations with Zamu and his wife.

Zamu is an Army man and trained in hand-to-hand combat. I joked, "Remind me never to make you angry," and he smoothly replied, "It doesn't have to be like that. I just tell people, 'use your words.'" He's teaching his 9-year-old son martial arts and self-defense to carry on the family legacy.

I'd use my words around his son, too.