Costa Rica Unplugged: Day 10, Part 1-- A Wet Goodbye

Jackie and I had nothing planned that morning in San Manuel Antonio. The brave ones went canyoneering at sunup but we had opted out. Months before, during a hike in Forest Falls in the San Bernardino mountains, I watched as three people descended the waterfall. It was late afternoon. The air had started to cool. Two females and one male came down directly underneath the downpour. I imagined myself in their wet shoes--unable to catch my breath, incapable of seeing through the water rushing down my eyes and face, and tensing up due to the cold. No thank you. That was one activity I could live without ever partaking in, especially after I saw how banged up the crew arrived hours later. Their knees and elbows where scraped and bled. I could only imagine how well canyoneering would have turned out for me after my contacts washed away.

With the first half of the day to ourselves, Jackie and I walked to the dining area behind the pool in our pajamas 30 minutes prior to closing time. There, we found a less adventurous group like ourselves (or broke, at that point) at a table. We filled two empty seats and shared our plans until we went horse back riding in the afternoon. Most of them were ready to head to the beach and Jackie and I agreed to meet them there as soon as we changed.

What was supposed to be a quick wardrobe switch-- bathing suit, cover up, sun block, hat-- turned into an hour because Jackie decided to blow dry her hair. 

"What are you doing," I snapped. "We're going to the beach. The sun will dry your hair."

But the sun would not be able to scrunch or add volume to her curls, she said.

By the time Her Majesty was ready, our peers were coming back. We bumped into three of them halfway down the street. I was mad. The point had been to hang and sunbathe with them, drink and have good conversations with friends. I was now stuck with my sister, the person I was getting upset with at the speed of one exasperation per hour.

"You guys done already," I asked with the most desperate and disappointed inflection I could form to convince them to turn back.

"The beach is too sandy," one of the girls said.

I stared at her stupefied. Yep, I thought, the beach would be sandy. I thought you knew that.

"It's too hot," she then said, using her hand to fan herself, "so I'm going to go to the pool."

We bid each other farewell and went about our day. As we continued our walk, I fidgeted with my towel hanging over my bag. Jackie caught sight of it and said, "My towel, I forgot my towel."

Oh hell no, I thought.

"You don't need it, we'll share," I said, using everything in my power to get to the beach pronto.

But she insisted. I explained I wasn't going to walk back with her so I handed her the room key. I hoped that by sending her off alone she'd hurry. While I stood in the middle of the road, I messaged her best friend. I needed advice. I had to know how she managed to get my sister out in a timely manner when they vacationed together. She told me to breathe and enjoy the rest of my trip. 

The sole purpose of heading to the beach in the first place was to complete our end of a deal. Jackie's friend (has now become my friend too) Fransisco has a sister in Hawaii that makes the cutest cover ups. Knowing we were Central America-bound, he gave us each the summer must-have under the condition that we be photographed in them for his sister's website. 

Like a true Mexican, I never intended to accept his gift for free. My goal the entire trip was to capture beautiful pictures in Fransisco's sister's creation. I took my sandals off when we reached the sand, ready to scope out the perfect location. As we walked across the beach towards the water, I realized the warmth I felt under my feet was more than that. I had actually burned them, something I'd never managed to do in California. My soles only felt relief in the water where I quickly put my sandals back on. 

Jackie caught me assessing the damage.

The Pacific Ocean...

...from Costa Rica!

We spotted one of our girls lounging under an umbrella. We walked towards her and she volunteered taking our picture before we continued our scavenger hunt.

To the left of the beach, we spotted what looked like a little jungle island. There were few people coming down a stone staircase that reminded us of the L.A. staircase hikes we'd done with friends back home. We waded through the water to get to the vegetation where unbeknownst to me, I would leave a piece of my heart. 

Our hiker instincts took us up the stairs where my slippery sandals made it hard get a grip and balance. I was thankful the steps ended at the short distance to the top because I didn't feel confident walking with burnt feet and shoes without traction.

Probably the only selfie I have never erased.  

As we descended, a family that had been taking pictures amongst large rocks packed up and left. Jackie and I rushed to that picture-perfect spot for our shooting. We hung our bags from a naked branch in a neighboring tree and I put my camera in Jackie's hands. As she prepared, I walked to a boulder in the water trying to muster as much confidence as my sister always did when there was a contraption with the ability to take her photograph in front of her. I posed for what I thought would make good shots but Jackie corrected and directed. 

With combined efforts, we achieved this, the only frame that didn't show my lonja, or roll.

I can only stand someone snapping away at me for so long. If they can't capture what they want with a few shots, they probably won't. So when I was over it, I walked to Jackie to critique the images. I hated most of them because, even though I thought I sat up straight and sucked in my stomach, my imperfections were visible. Seeing my disappointment, Jackie sent me back to the scene. She wanted me posed in front of the other rock. Trusting her photographic skills, I followed orders. 

Second decent shot.

The water made the ground very unstable. The current moved the sand so much in certain areas that it was swept from under my feet and created holes that almost made me fall. Luckily I remained upright thanks to the rock walls I used to hold or lean on. The waves kept coming while Jackie kept shooting. She yelled orders at me and I tried my best to follow them. I remained vertical by finding new ground to stand on constantly. In one of those unstable moments, I looked over at Jackie and found her bent over a rock. I didn't think anything of it except that I noticed water dripping from my camera lens in her hand.

"Why is my camera wet," I demanded to know.

"The water knocked me over," she said, her voice getting higher as she finished that sentence.

Water droplet in my picture. The beginning of the end. 

My camera took over my mind as I swooshed as fast as I could to get to her. I thought it had only been the tip of the lens that had kissed the ocean but my entire camera was soaked. I instinctively snatched it out of Jackie's lousy grip and smacked the water out of it the way a doctor slaps a newborn to make it cry, at least the way they do in the movies. Then I proceeded to the tree, grabbed my towel, and padded it dry. I could hear Jackie apologizing behind me, repeating it was an accident. I knew in my heart it was but that didn't mean I wasn't allowed to be angry. I just wished she wasn't as clumsy as she was. 

I was attempting to save my precious memory maker-- blowing droplets out of crevices, slapping water out of gaps, and sticking my towel in far to reach places-- when I heard, "Aren't you going to take a picture of me?"

I paused my operation to see exactly what Jackie wanted me to take a picture of. She was sitting in the exact spot on the boulder I had begun the shooting.  I shot her a look similar to that of a mother who has just come face to face with her child's killer and knows she's about to avenge herself. How dare you ask me that question after what I have just been through, I thought. You killed her and you you still expect me to use her for your entertainment? As calmly as I possibly could, without snapping and sounding deranged, I said, "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm too busy trying to save my camera." 

I unhooked my purse from the branch on the tree and left her.

Camera, taking pictures without my consent.

I reached the other side when Jackie screamed behind me, "Are you going to leave your sandals here?"

I felt so stupid. I thought I had executed my furious maneuver so eloquently, leaving Jackie behind to wallow in her guilt, only to have karma stop me in my thoughtless tracks. I knew giving my camera a dip was an accident but the sentence she uttered last drove me over the top. How could she be so selfish, was all that repeated inside my head. The least she could do is bring my shoes to me on her way back.

Like an idiot, I splish-splashed back to the jungle-island, picked up my sandals, and waded to the main beach again. I frantically searched for a place to sit to continue to operate on my camera when I found a fallen tree trunk. I set my folded towel over it and proceeded to save my picture maker. Jackie, meanwhile, gave me a piece of her mind when she set her stuff down on the sand to relax the way we were meant to that morning. I hated her for appearing so carefree, laying on her towel in her teeny bikini with no worry for any body fat spilling out of it. My camera brought me back to reality as it took its last breaths. It turned on and off on its own, zoomed in and out, and captured some last shots without the press of a button, including this one:

Yep, that was Jackie taking a selfie while all I wanted to do was strangle her. 

That's when I opened the tiny door that housed the memory card and took it out. I dried the diminutive piece of plastic and put it away in a safe compartment in my purse. I hoped and prayed that the pictures I had taken during the past ten days would be safe. I gave up on my camera after a few minutes. I accepted I had lost her forever. All I could do was hold tightly to that memory card and pray that it would work when I got home. 

The girls had been right, it was too hot. Jackie and I packed our stuff a short time later and headed back. But not before one final stroll.

We walked around the edge of the beach, closest to the foliage, searching for a crocodile. I had calmed down a bit and for the umpteenth time, Jackie apologized. I accepted her apology and shared a private sentiment. The day was July 21st, the exact day I had decided seven or eight years before to marry my then boyfriend. Back then, he thought I was crazy. He didn't see the point in waiting so long to merge our lives when we had already been together for a couple of years. But the truth was that I didn't trust him. I was giving him time to change and me, time to believe, confide, and rely on him again. It was also exactly a year since I had ended said relationship. 

"I was supposed to marry him today," I said in my softest voice ever. "Maybe that's why all these bad things are happening, like a curse."

Using her MSW rhetoric, she assured me that the end of a saga for my camera was unrelated to the date. She said I couldn't attach negative thoughts to July 21st because just like all the others, it was just another random day of my exhilarating life. 

Deep In Thought. (Copyright @ Jackie's cell phone)