Journal

Pura Vida, Dominical, Costa Rica

We missed the stop for Playa Dominical, Costa Rica. Ten minutes passed before we could convince our bus driver to pull over and drop us onto the winding road hugging the pacific coast of Costa Rica. It was hot and we were hauling heavyish packs, so we stuck out our thumbs and tried to hitch.

We didn't have much luck, and the heat was too much, so we ditched the road and hiked to the beach. The coast carried us to the surf shack colony of Dominical, where we posted up for the next two days at San Clemente hostel.

Dominical is for dreamers and office job dropouts. Dominical is for the people we envy, the people who aren't bothered by status quo.

Two days later, I was up at 6.30am. Coffee, rain and a skipped shower. We sort of surfed for a few hours, bought some souvenirs, beer, chips and salsa. We traded two dollars for coconut drinks by the road before boarding a bus to Quepos. This time, the bus drove us straight to the jungle.