Would love critique, opinion and ideas! No sugar coating, please.
Somewhere long past midnight, the water has receded several hundred feet into the Pacific. We stumble along, feet thudding on damp sand, having made no attempt to quiet our boisterous conversation or crooked walk. Looking South, Tamarindo sparkles white and yellow, asleep. The slight breeze and easy temperature are relaxing, liberating. More so after escaping the traveler-and-tico crowded karaoke bar an hour earlier. Looking West, the impossibly black ocean can not be distinguished from an impossibly black sky. Except for the dusty stars.
We brought two large bottles of coconut rum, though now we had closer to one and three quarters after this 2 minute walk from the hostel to la playa. These Canadians were pretty damn good at drinking.
“Do you guys think there are any crocodiles out here?” the Canadian asked, as we stepped into the water. It wasn’t a stupid question, at least not to us. We were warned not to go near the river outlet late at night. Apparently, younger and weaker crocodiles are pushed out by the current to where the ocean and river meet during low tide. Maybe that story had more to do with us being gringos. Who knows.
“I don’t think we are close enough.” my buddy, Nate, said as he handed off the bottle of rum to the cute Blonde Canadian wearing only a bra and thong that was just as black as the ocean.
“Sharks?” he followed.
“Probably", we joked as the bottles made their rounds, “I heard they hunt at night.”
After reaching mutual agreement that we were 100% certain to be swimming in shark infested waters (we weren’t) the jovial conversation faded in an out of this week’s plans, traveling horror stories, life plans, travel plans, drinking more of our coconut rum plans and, for better or worse, plans to swim further into the Pacific.
To ensure we would all venture onward and a bit brazen by beverage, the Other Canadian hurled an empty bottle at the horizon. Lumbering into darkness, the bottle rushes below the surface, and a hundred tiny, bright green orbs illuminate in the wake. Our eyes illuminated as well, as we watched the alien glow dissipate. Without hesitation and with a touch of organized chaos, we hurry into that fast, move your arms from side to side to side wade deeper into the Pacific. What else are you going to do when you find green, glowing water? We paused when we cause the bleak ocean to erupt in swarms of green globes. (no remaining rum was lost in the scurry)
“I’ve heard about these!” I said, “plankton or something. I think they are called bioluminescent, maybe? You just swirl the water around and they light up.”
I had actually heard of them before this night, too. I wasn‘t just making this up. A coworker at the outdoor shop I worked at in college had raved of the great experience it was to create these glowing whirlpools. “Special plankton!“ my coworker said, “You know, like lightning bugs underwater.”
Glowing whirlpools, green figure eights and radioactive splashes. This felt like something we should be doing inside the St. Louis Science Center on a Wednesday afternoon, not on the Costa Rican coast at whatever hour it happened to be. We had discovered a rare moment when it is warranted to use the word, amazing.
As the others returned to conversation, I lay on my back and do the monkey-airplane-soldier stroke away. My ears submerged, I only hear the undulation of the ocean. The glassy black water just past the tepid break makes it easy to see the varying shades of the bioluminescent plankton. Some growing brighter and others growing dimmer. The orbs whirl after each arm stroke then twist in the current and dance away, fading in color as they tail off.
The plankton imitate stars and in one long swoop of the arm they form as a galaxy. Making a plankton angel seemed like an excellent idea, and, well, it was. With swaying arms, green light swirls and saturates the water. Looking up at that impossibly black sky and those now crystal clear stars, I lose sense of where ocean and sky meet. Above or below; black and light. The ocean is gone and so is the sky. I had nothing else to see. Just blackness, stars and bioluminescent plankton. Time, in this moment, ceased and I am reminded why I journey.



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