As Renee and I walked down the main drag of Playas del Coco the noonday sun was beating down like Vulcan’s hammer and I could feel the UV rays busily mutating my skin’s DNA. Even though the humidity was a sedate forty-eight percent, it was enough to make it feel like 104 degrees.
“Jesus,” I said wiping my unprotected brow, “It’s hot.”
“It’s like this almost every day,” Renee, said.
“Good thing we hiked in the morning.”
“We should have left earlier. Too much sun near the end.”
I’d brought my running gear in hopes of getting some miles in during my Costa Rican vacation, but my drive withered once I’d saw the elevated topography around Renee’s home. I don’t mind running uphill for a stretch, it’s the downhill part that kills my knees. As a substitute Renee and I took to assaulting the steep hills overlooking Ocotal bay in the cool of the mornings. Heart pounding, but very scenic.
“We have to get out of this heat,” I said, feeling woozy. “And rehydrate.”
“I know a place we can go for lunch,” Renee said.
Sidewalks seem to be a suggestion in Playas del Coco, forcing people to walk in the street which, between all the gypsy cabs, scooters, mopeds, and retirees in golf carts, can be a daunting adventure – and every driver seemed to be looking at their cellphone. Noticing we were not walking facing traffic, I pulled Renne across the street so we could at least see danger hurtling toward us.
“How far?” I said, as my legs turned to rubber.
“A couple of blocks,” Renee said. Then we saw a lovely young blonde woman running towards us at a blistering clip. Clothed in very short shorts and a sports bra, the muscles of her abdomen were sharply defined and the sweat pouring off her body seemed to drain away whatever body fat she had left.
“She has to be an American,” I said as I turned to watch her go by. “Or extremely OCD.”
“Got to fit into that bikini,” Renee said.
“She’s gonna get heatstroke.”
Finally arriving at the restaurant, the owner greeted Renee like an old friend and immediately sat us at a table. To my chagrin, the place didn’t have air-conditioning but, between the shade and celling fans overhead, it was a damn sight better than the blast furnace outside. “Water,” I told the waiter before he got a chance to say hello. After guzzling some H20, Renee and I ordered lunch and Imperial, the local beer. “Now I know why there are siestas,” I said. “This is too much.”
“It’s better by my house,” Renee said. “The ocean and the forest cool things off some.”
As I tucked into my meal, the blonde jogger ran past the restaurant on what must’ve been her return trip. This time, however, she was shuffling at a pace I could’ve beat walking. Although her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, I could see from her haggard expression that she was tortured. I could never understand why some runners feel it necessary to brutalize themselves in extreme temps. Oh well, I guess everyone self flagellates themselves in their own way.
As I was eating to replace the energy I’d sweated out more than gustatory pleasure, a sharp pang of homesickness suddenly sickened me and ruined my appetite. I’d never been separated from my daughter so long and missed her. It was also the first time I’d ever travelled abroad by myself. When I got off the plane at Libera airport solo, I felt the novelty of being in a new place thrilling but now, three days later, it had worn off. Feeling anxious I was so removed from the world I knew, I tuned out and stared staring into space.
“You okay?” Renee, said, sensing I was elsewhere.
“Being in a new and strange place and all that,” I said. “I’ll be all right.” But I knew that homesickness was just another word for vulnerability.
Meal finished, Renee and I walked back into the heat, and I wondered if that blonde jogger was prostrate in bed jonesing for IV fluids now. Stopping off at a shop to buy a souvenir for my daughter, I picked out a cutesy looking sloth for my daughter’s menagerie of stuffed animals. I also felt a kinship with that creature who shared its name with one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Ever since my friend killed himself, I’ve been feeling unmotivated and depressed, moving slowly through life lest I stumble over one of my many inadequacies. Then again that’s why I came to Costa Rica in the first place, to go slow. It wasn’t a coincidence I flew there on the first anniversary of my dad’s death.
An un-air conditioned cab ride later, we were back at Renee’s place feeling totally spent. After quaffing water like it was going out of style, a profound tiredness came over me and all I wanted to do was go into my room, crank the A/C to meat locker temps and get some shuteye. “Too much sun,” I said to Renee before retiring. “I think we both have mild heat exhaustion.”
“I think you’re right,” he said. “Get some sleep. We’re meeting some friends of mine for dinner at six.”
Half an hour later in my cold room I watched the ceiling fan whirling overhead while the sun blazed through a crack in the curtains and pasted an annoying band of brightness across the middle of the bed. Feeling restless, thoughts effervesced through my brain like a free associative cacophony of regret: flagellating me with opportunities missed, connections squandered, and memories of what I’d done and failed to do. Maybe that overheated jogger was running from some of the same things. When sleep finally did come, it was as shallow as I felt.
A few hours later I was indulging in beer and barbeque with Renne’s friends while a singer sang seductively on the restaurant’s stage. Taking a break from the conversation, I looked out the window and watched as the twilight skies lapped magenta shadows on the distant hills while the clouds above incandesced with seraphic fire. Reveling in nature’s loveliness, I half remembered a quote, “The beauty of the world is God’s tender smile for us coming through matter.” By coming a new place, I’d hoped to escape my sorrows only to find they’d come along for the ride. But looking at the shimmering vista, I realized something else had followed me here too – something familiar yet delightfully new. Feeling the ocean breeze caressing my face as it swept away the heat of the day, I could almost hear it whispering, “Nothing is ever lost.” Sighing, I realized home was far bigger than I could ever imagine and that somewhere, somehow, my father and friend were there too. Rejoining the warm company and food, I relaxed for the first time that day.
I was no longer homesick.
