I missed you guys!!! But I’m back from my Costa Rica Coma, rested, relaxed and trying to figure out when I can get away next and to where. Marrakesh sounds perfect.
First, I have a drawing I was behind naming the winners on. It’s for a random grab bag of samples. Winners are: Maureen, sunnlitt and Leslie. To collect, click on the Contact Us over there on the left, send me your address with a brief note of what you’ve won so I can keep it straight. I will respond to that e-mail, so if you don’t get a response from me in a day or two, send again. Sometimes mail from the contact us winds up in my spam filter, and I never see it, but enough come through that I don’t go digging through them unless prompted.
When I left, I asked about smells of a place or time of year. Costa Rica has that amazing mix of almost rot with this breezy freshness. The air is perfumed by alternating whiffs of decaying fish and crabs and fruit, with the occasional wafting of the most lush white floral. When those go by, my nose perks up, and I start sniffing it down, hunting for where it is coming from, and I almost never find it. That’s better, it leaves mystery in life.
On top of the smells are the sounds. The place we stay in the Osa Peninsula is Pan Dulce, and the house is right off the beach, so you get surf sounds pounding at you second by second, minute by minute, hour after hour, day after day, and it takes you into this really deep place of presence. The absence of internet, phone, tv helps, along with living in a rustic cabin with a star bat sleeping above the stairs. Oh, you get used to it. I’m not one for creepy crawlies, but for some reason, I feel like that’s their place, and I’m the intruder. I don’t even kill insects while there. And then there’s the 5 a.m. howler monkey wake-up call, the afternoon macau scream-fest, as they fight over some beach almonds, then go soaring into the air like the most vivid, elegant pair of Bickersons in the world. And in the rainy season, every night brings the rain and Tink frogs (that’s the sound they make, loud, almost like a sonar). Rain comes sometimes as the sun goes down or waking you up in the middle of the night or as the accompaniment to the howlers as you open your eyes in the morning.
Every time I’m there, as I get to the last day, I’m shocked it is almost over and sad, and all I can do is cheer myself with the thought of planning another visit. The Osa Peninsula is always described as one of the most ecologically intense places on the planet. I haven’t been everywhere on the planet, but I wouldn’t argue with that statement. Everything about it is alive and immediate and real. It talks to a place inside me that has always known life is short – make it worth breathing, the future is no place to make a home to live in, and everything you have lived was completely necessary. A lot of cliches? Well, yeah! Life is made of up cliches and catch-phrases, but it makes them no less true. Getting to a place where you are rolliin’ in the deep present is a place to breathe from, inhaling all the broad spectrum of scent life puts out there.
What gets you there? Do you get there? Do you not care if you get there? 🙂 Oh, listen I had a rolfing session right after acupuncture this morning, I’m so squishy right now, it’s ridiculous, so these platitudes will be like mother’s milk for another 18 hours, then I’ll go back to giggling surlishness.