Craving Costa Rica

Whenever it’s hot, I get that jones to be someplace where heat is part of the lure, making the water feel wetter, the breeze more flirtatious, and the mojitos mintier. I’m up for some basking.

A few years ago I deviated from my usual rainforest/cloud forest/volcano love-paths in CR and landed in Liberia for a taste of Flamingo Beach. With higher temps and lower rainfall, the northern regions boast bounties of a plant you never see in most of Costa Rica — cactus. I love wandering the backroads and passing fields of cattle contained by living fences — a tight row of cactus — or planted single-file to serve as guard rails along risky roads.

Playa Flamingo sits on a drop-dead bay with movie star houses, drool-worthy views, and treacherous beach access, but a slow meander down the road brings you to sand that runs right up to the pavement, tree-studded beaches, hammocks, and lunch shacks. Head south a few more miles to Tamarindo for surfing lessons, or beyond the beach to the Tropical Dry Forests of the Guanacaste region, famed for cowboys, ziplines, horseback riding and mud baths.

Dos Equis anyone?

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