For whatever reason, likely my fault, we weren’t able to cook on the day we were dropped at a colorful but dusty corner in Puerto Viejo. We had an appointment to learn cooking with a woman who is like the culinary grandmother of residents both old and new on the Caribbean side of Costa Rica. Everyone knows her, everyone raves about her cooking – we were excited. Surfers, wanderers and stray dogs inhabit the narrow strip of land she calls home, which is caught between the sea and an ever-encroaching jungle that refuses to be tamed. It is a paradise in many ways, albeit a run-down one.
As a photographer, I was rather happy to have our allotted cooking time to myself for a photographic expedition. After all, photographing anything that is aged or exploding with shades of the rainbow – is for me, akin to what heaven might be for other people. The beach and streets were somewhat empty, residents still sleeping off the sting of hangovers from a night of raucous partying. I wandered in a creative, happy haze, with the town almost to myself.
This is what my ecstatic heart captured on the day were were supposed to be learning to cook:
I’m more inclined to find another surf town on another foreign shore …
the wide world I’ve not yet seen continually calls my name and I hear good things about Tenerife …
My trip to Costa Rica was provided by the Gift of Happiness campaign sponsored by the tourism board. As always, thoughts and opinions are mine.
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