Perfect Waves

A Chance Encounter

Your zinc face sunscreen is still on my lips. The sound of the carver sawing his tree trunk sculpture mixes with the smell of the dust from the street. The café I'm sitting at is beautiful. So many perfect moments on this trip, where to even begin.

I am so in love with Costa Rica. Truly, madly, deeply. I am so grateful that fate had led me here. I have never been as happy, whole, or carefree. Especially Santa Teresa, on the Pacific side of the country. Here, I am free like a bird. Or as Nik says, like a pelican surfing the waves.

Nik, oh Nik. I met him at my hostel a week and half ago. He noticed me, he remembered me. A few days later, on my way into a bar, exactly a week ago, I see him. I'm friendly. I notice he's cute. I remember not even paying attention to him at my hostel since there were so many pretty boys around.

But now the image of him is stuck with me. Beach blonde, sandy curls. The most beautiful ocean eyes. Smile lines that make him look a little like a handsome young Santa. It is impossible to stay away. Like a warm sunny day.

That smile.

But I get ahead of myself in the story... I arrived in Santa Teresa in the most appropriate way, ready to surf, dance and move on from a breakup a few days ago. It was winter break of my last year of law school, and a week-long surf camp in Costa Rica turned into a breakup over the phone with my ex. I had no interest in returning to broken holiday season plans and my bland dorm and college town after that, so I extended my surf trip.

I had been in Tamarindo, a rowdy, artificial playground targeted towards late 20's, early 30's Americans looking to shop and party. Santa Teresa was different, full of beautiful people. Lithe, tan local girls, tall, blonde expat surfers, and of course, confident, charismatic surf instructors. It was very amusing how they so casually hit on every girl they taught. What Santa Teresa was, was a real surf town. Most folks went to bed around 10pm, to get up and surf at 5am. Rising with the sun became easy even for a night owl like me. My eyes opened every day at 4:45am sharp, without an alarm, and I jumped out of bed to run the entire two-minute trek to check the waves.

Waves here were wonderful. Heavenly, even, for a beginner like me. They came so consistently, the entire month that I was there there were only three days when it was flat. Waves ranged from one foot on a flat day to five feet on a good day, when all the pros would come out and fly into the air with their boards and make five, hell, even seven sharp turns racing from the bottom of the wave to the lip before they wiped out.

I was going to stay in Costa Rica for a few more days after my breakup, and a friend I made in the surf camp back in Tamarindo convinced me to go to Santa Teresa with her. Her name was Julie, and she was the liveliest, most hilarious human I have ever met. Most people didn't believe me when I told them that she was more energetic than me, but next thing you know, the girl would be dancing on bar tables pouring shots for everyone and exchanging Instagram accounts with half the club. I loved Julie, and we did everything together for a full week. She was there when I cried angry tears about my breakup and dragged me out the night after. She was there when I injured myself daily when I surfed, to laugh at me, but also get me ice and water. We got along like we had known each other for years, and the locals thought we were sisters. We ate together, surfed together, and got drunk together. All in all, we had a jolly good time in Tamarindo.

Poor Julie had lost her phone at a club the night before we got to Santa Teresa. So her darling boyfriend decided to join her in Santa Teresa and deliver the new phone himself. She had been telling me that I could stay with her, so now I rushed to book a place since they were going to share her room. Santa Teresa hotels was surprisingly expensive, so I chose a highly-rated hostel that was only 18 dollars a night that was right by her hotel.