Pura Vida

Pura Vida: (Poo-ra Vee-da) As Costa Rica’s official slogan, tourists may hear this term very often. Directly translated it means “pure life,” although Costa Ricans use it in a plethora of different contexts. For example, locals use it to replace the word goodbye, you’re welcome, and thank you. It is also a common response to many questions (for example “how are you?” or “how was your day?”) and it translates to “awesome” or “great.”

Well, that's according to Google's dictionary.

According to the RP/KP dictionary, "Pura Vida" = "Thanksgiving is awesome."

The nice thing about Costa Rica is, it’s so hot that your skin constantly glistens to the point you look like you’ve been lubed up for a Mr. Universe competition (see photos below). Not to mention that using a hairdryer or applying makeup in Central America are complete exercises in futility, so getting ready for breakfast is a 10-minute tops process.

That left approximately 23 hours and 50 minutes each day to enjoy the pura vida in Guanacaste, Costa Rica.

And we did. I thought I’d spend this vacation splurging on sleep (read: sleeping in til 7 am). Instead, I was up at 5:30 most mornings just because the sun was too and the landscape was calling my name.

The landscape, of course, included 80-degree ocean water, long dirt roads (perfect for a sweltering run), picturesque beach-front cafes, black sand, and a personal infinity pool. Of course, it also involved beetles the size of my thumb, tiny jellyfish that had their way with RP, and enough mosquitos to provide West Nile virus to a Russian Army (not a bad defense were we to wage another cold war).

Our five-day Price Familiy Vacation (we brought the kids), included all of the following:

• Sunset swimming on Avellanas Beach upon our arrival
• Girl’s Thanksgiving lunch at Lola’s, an adorable beach-front café with their very own pet pig (see photo – that’s actually not me after Thanksgiving dinner)
• Thanksgiving Dinner at Villa Daveena, a French Restaurant in Costa Rica, owned by a Portuguese couple and decorated in the Balinese style. Diversity aside, it was delicious. RP ate my pumpkin pie, but I got both our portions of whipped cream. Score.
• Holding a moment of silence (and trying not to kill our friend Pete) upon finding out he’d ran over a monkey and her baby. RIP, sweet monkey family.
• Getting pulled over for speeding along a dirt road and told that a Costa Rica speeding ticket was “Sixteen-hundred dollar. Muy Caro. No bueno.” Luckily cops are easily bribed with $40 cold hard USD’s.
• Surfing with RP at Playa Grande. He ditched the boys for the afternoon and surfed the small stuff with his wife (the fact that my swimsuit top came off every time I got off a wave might have swayed him to stick around).
• Swimming with RP in a tropical rainstorm. Warm ocean water below; warm rain water above: nothing better.
• Taking cold showers all but one day before RP showed me the difference between the hot and cold water handles.
• An 11-cable zip line tour through the jungle, where we saw howler monkeys and determined that they’re even more obnoxious than me.
• Breakfast date with RP at KonTiki, where breakfast is “French toast, or oma-let.” We went for oma-let.
• Frying up some plantains with RP, then sadly assigning him to sprinkle the sugar. Said plantains were INCREDIBLY salty. Go figure.
• Spending our entire month’s grocery budget on staples like peanut butter and Coca Light. Totally worth it.
• Realizing that, if left hungry long enough, boys will eventually cook you dinner.
• Falling asleep in the sun on the hot sand. Rinse. Repeat.
• Chatting it up with a Costa Rican waiter named Javier (who asked if we were “movie girls” – the flattery worked and we tipped generously), an Israeli surfer boy named Eran, and a Dubai-dwelling, British pilot named David.
• Getting an in-house (ocean-facing balcony) couple’s massage with Rick’s friend Pete (RP was suffering skin disease). Mine was deep-tissue and sometimes bordered on excruciating, but the masseuse threw in some boob-touching free of charge.
• Treating RP for jellyfish stings upon returning home. Pobrecito.
• Coming home to Christmastime. Let the winter games begin.