Things Remembered, Names Forgotten

Jose, our host, and me in Cahuita, Costa Rica

Jose, our host, and me in Cahuita, Costa Rica

Even though the rain has ceased, Spring has sprung, and cherry blossoms are in full bloom throughout the city of Portland, their pink and white petals boasting vitality, my mind still wanders. I suppose this will always be the case; if my feet cannot roam, my imagination will. Meditations of the Caribbean pervade me: warm weather, reggae music, tanned skin, plantains and black beans, lounging in hammocks, sloths hanging motionless from trees, capuchin monkeys jumping around, and little yellow crabs dancing sideways in the white sand.

It’s curious what you remember about certain experiences, and if you can actually enjoy the present moment as much as you will when it’s gone, and nostalgia has set in. Case in point- I vividly remember getting caught in the undertow in Cahuita, Costa Rica, not knowing if the sky was above or below me, wrestling with the wild ocean currents, not sure if I would ever take another breath. But I don’t remember exactly how we got to Cahuita, or when we wandered the streets at night looking for food and a man tried to rob us. Funny that I wouldn’t remember that.

Same with the man who hosted us in his small bungalow- I know his name was Jose because it’s visible in the photo, and I remember how kind he was. I’m not sure why, or what he said, but I know that he made me laugh and I was completely at ease while staying there. I wish I knew the name of the place we stayed- but who knows, this was almost seven years ago, and I don’t know if it’s still around, or even if Jose is still there.

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