What’s life without a little risk? Adventures in Costa Rica

Hello everyone!

Sorry that I’ve been out of touch for a little bit. I’ve been on holiday! The internet connection where we stayed in Costa Rica was patchy at best which meant a real chance to disconnect and unwind.

It also meant that I had to miss the Celebrity Invitational in LA last week but this trip was too good to give up!

We’re headed back to the real world now and I think my suitcase is 10 pounds heavier with all the sand that has somehow infiltrated everything that I own.

I spent just over a week away and it was my first trip to Costa Rica. I ruddy loved it! A few of us came out here for a Triathlon in Brasilito – I wasn’t running it, obviously – and coincidentally there was also a friend’s wedding in a tiny town about 2 hours away from us which meant we had a LOT to do and a lot of great people to do it with. It was one of my favourite holidays EVER. In fact – EVER, EVER.

What’s life without a little risk?

That being said (so you know the following isn’t a complaint but rather just a story, hopefully for your amusement), it wasn’t a holiday without a bit of struggle.

For a girl from Northern Alberta, spending time on a beach holiday is a huge treat but also, a little on the scary side. There’s just so much water! Although I love living by the ocean (in California now and Brighton, UK for a number of years) I have a very uneasy relationship with the water and it’s big, scary, inscrutable waves. Still, what’s life without a little risk?

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So the first day we were in Costa Rica I waded out into the incredibly warm waves on a golden sand beach and wet my legs, one millimetre at a time. So brave. Our hotel was right on the beach so there were a few other people out there, swimming and body surfing with their happy smiles. Feeling bolder, I edged in until I was in just over waist deep and started to breath a little less carefully. Ahhh, carefree and on holiday.

It was at that moment that the ocean (clever, clever thing) decided to re-assert it’s power as I felt a burning, stinging sensation wrap itself around my left knee. In shock, I propelled myself out of the surf screaming ‘SOMETHING BIT ME’ and a few other things that I can’t write down here.

Considering my tendency to the melodramatic (and the fact that we were on one of the loveliest, safest beaches in the world) my swimming partner stifled a simultaneous laugh and eye-roll and helped haul me up to the sand where I lay panting and clutching my knee which was now starting to blister. (HA! Melodrama that!)

I had run into a jellyfish. No big deal, right. Happens to everyone. There’s just no reason to think that the ocean is out to get me. Hell no. That would be crazy. Ahem.

I’m from Alberta – I shouldn’t be in the ocean

Following that, I had got to hear a terribly interesting lecture on how incredibly rare it is to be stung twice on holiday but now that I’d been stung once, my odds were frighteningly worse because of course, the ocean doesn’t ‘remember’ that it stung you once already. Sure. Maybe YOUR ocean doesn’t remember but mine sure does. And it holds grudges.

I did finally get back into the water and even tried a bit of surfing after being shamed into renting a board by the two older aunts of the bride whose wedding we attended. They were twice my age, had never surfed and were fearless – I crumbled beneath the pressure.

One of the brides friends who had never surfed was there too so the four of us decided to go in with a little help from a girl who’d surfed her whole life. Needless to say, it ended up with four of us nearly drowning as we wiped out in spectacular fashion in a huge wave set that just wouldn’t let us get out of the water. The boards twirled around our heads as we ducked and covered.

Every time someone nearly managed to struggle up out of the water, one of our boards would dart around them, tangling their ankle line and dragging them back out to sea. At one point, I came up for air to see our teacher (whose bikini top had long since given up on her) struggling to pick up one of the aunts while covering herself. I believe I may have yelled something like ‘I’m from Alberta – I shouldn’t be in the ocean!!’

After what felt like forever, a few guys swam in and helped us untangle our lines, tame the boards and drag us all panting onto the beach, bikini bottoms full of sand and big blue bruises spreading along all of our shins.

Surfing. Brilliant.

I blame the ocean.