La Fortuna

I used to be able to say to you: "Don't ask me what it's like to see a sunset in a Costa Rican rainforest."

Until now.

"It's green glorious." I can tell you like a wise man. "Green grass, green trees, even green mountains and a green stream. The rain is green, too. And there's a whole lot of it." I never knew it rained so much in a rainforest. I guess that's why they're called rain forests.

The pounding rain woke me up from I don't know where back into that wet green world with a brutal throbbing hangover headache and a congested left nostril. Forced to breathe through my dehydrated mouth, the bungalow air tasted sticky and stale - like a soaked Spaniel. I lay there in my new Calvin's on top of the tangled white bed sheets. Those briefs were perfectly form fitting, with a baby soft cotton blend and a delicious amount of room for my manhood, which is why I hadn't yet taken them off since Christmas morning. My lady certainly knew how to get me a wearable gift. I had no idea where I was but I recognized the rain and Tanya right there peaceful pretty next to me reading her new book: Eat, Pray, Love.

Tanya snuck a peek over the edge of her open book and giggled at me.

"What?" I asked her. "What's so funny?"

"Nuthin'." She returned to her book with a permanent smile. I ignored her infatuation and rolled myself off the edge of the bed. The wrinkled sheet slid down my leg as I shuffled my bare feet over the cold tiles to the back patio door so I could catch a glimpse of the stormy sunset outside. 

"Where are you going, baby?" she asked.

The rain was pounding so hard out there it was making holes in the ground and those wet whistling birds and hungry moaning cows didn't even feel a thing. A stream danced its rapture downhill from the cloud covered volcano to my right. There was a waterfall somewhere out there - I could almost hear it but the beauty all around me was so loud it was nearly deafening.

In a blink the world outside went to black, like flipping the light switch on to off. One second it was bright light delight out there and everything was wet and green, and the next second it was blackness all around and I only heard the torrential rain and the overflow pouring off the edges of our thatched bungalow roof.

So I was still not sure where I was or how we got there but I remembered a winding road with lots of potholes and hitchhikers, a small Israeli owned roadside cafe where we ordered some green rice and beans and a couple eggs scrambled, and I remember checking into that rainforest hotel.

"What's your name?" the front desk clerk asked. He didn't sound too Costa Rican. Kind of generic. Kind of American. A nice looking Tica girl stood next to him smiling at me.

"Margaritov," I replied. My name rolled off my tongue like I owned it.

"Maaar-gaaar-eeeee-"

"tov," I interrupted. "Like the drink... Margarita."

"Oooh, I like those! Margarita!!!"

"Yes, like the drink. But with an O-V at the end." I wondered how many times in my life I've had to say this to people. Sometimes simple names, like Smith or Jones, work better in the world. Especially in a Costa Rican rainforest.

"Do your rooms have nice views?" I asked the smiling girl. She didn't answer me, just stared quietly and smiled.

"What is that? Your name? Where from your name?"

"Margaritov?" I questioned. "Originally Spain, I guess. And then Eastern Europe. Russia."

"Russia!" he shouted back at me with excitement. "Sprechen ze Deutsche?"

Huh? Do I speak German? "Umm, uhhh, I don't speak Russian. Do you?"

"Sprechen ze Deutsche a little. Very little, actually. Sprechen. Ze. That's all."

And then I woke up to a rainforest rainstorm and certainly questioned my whereabouts and how I got there. But honestly, who really cares, it was all so wonderful. And in that lovely moment - laughing about my day, admiring the view, feeling the rain - Tanya, with her adorable giggle - mischievous and giddy - rolled over to her side, rested her sleepy face in her open hand, and paused. She was sizing me up with those sunshine freckled Hazels.

"So, how many days have you been wearing those chones?" She nonchalantly asked cracking herself up. "How many different countries can you wear those chones in without washing them?"

"What!? I like them! They were a gift!" 

"I know, baby. Who gave them to you?"

Little did she know I'd wear them around the world and back again. A perfect pair of chones, like the love of your life, you just want to keep close to your skin all the time. 

And, believe it or not, I had both wrapped around me there in my rainy Costa Rican rainforest.