Now in San Juan del Sur

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Now in San Juan del Sur

Updated 1 Year, 6 months ago

After a few days in Granada trying to work out if it was for me I decided to leave and go to San Juan del Sur instead. I found myself embarking on what would be a very sweaty and crabby search for a hostel that had been recommended to me by my new friend Roberto. After half an hour or so of lugging around my rucksack I abandoned the search and started to look for any hostel that wasn't full, since it was Friday, the beach town was filling up. I finally settled on a respectable little guest house run by and agreeable old Guatemalan women. I would have been happy anywhere. The ocean was RIGHT there! I could see it! But I had spent all this time walking around looking for a place to sleep, so it had just been the taunting me. I peeled off my sweat drenched clothes and threw on my swimming suit, ready to run-walk down to the ocean, trying to look casual, a la fat person at a Chinese buffet when the newest eggrolls come out.  I fling open the front door and…noooooooooo…a funeral procession has just begun to walk by. It stretches at least two blocks back, moving at a snail’s pace. It’s going to take foreeeeever to pass. I slink back inside the doorway in dismay, it would be disrespectful to pass them and there is no way around. I lay down on my bed in the dead, still air of  my bedroom for the next 20 minutes. Best to work up a good sweat anyhow.

            I finally made it down to the sea to splash around. As a landlocked flatlander, I am always a bit suspicious of the ocean. I mean, it just keeeeps going. If I went in there, I wouldn't come out until Japan! But it's amazing. I am still watching it now, at night, hypnotized. I could sit for hours and watch the waves grow from one end to the other. I love to pick one point and follow the water until the very last of it sinks away into the sand. Something about the steadiness and briefness of a waves’ life captivates me. It is so ancient and fleeting at the same time. Not to get overly romantic on you. I never visited the ocean growing up. The first time I ever saw the ocean was when the guys and I went for a trip to Brighton, so any nostalgia I have regarding the ocean I associate there. I've thought about them a lot while I've stared out at the ocean here – we're not really in touch any more, except for via Facebook, I wonder if they're having as awesome a life as me? 

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