Chubster Nation

Excuse me Sir, Would Like a Little Costa Con Los Chubbies?

Day 3:

Yeehaw! Back crankalankin’ on the old Chubbies travel blog!

Allow me to reintroduce all the relevant characters:

Tom: me, your narrator!

Brian: my buddy and traveling companion

Monica: our gracious hostess for this part of the trip. Total cutie from Laguna beach living in Costa for a year.

Ghost: Monica’s rad pit bull and my new best friend

From the left: Ghost, Monica, Tom, Brian (Sunset at Playa Langosta. Brian is wearing capri pants. Ghost is pissed)

Now back to the snoop bloggy blog…

After our mellow evening watching Wedding Crashers, we get tons of rest and are up early to hit the beach. Monica’s working today (taking travelers out to the beach to catch some gnar) so Brian and I are on our own to shred sick wave.

We hit up Tamarindo Beach for a couple of hours. Brian loves it, catches the surfing bug. 

After shredding wave for a couple hours, we begin to tire and need to get some grub to refuel. We hit up this restaurant at the Witch’s Rock Surf Camp whose claim to fame is “Nachos as big as your ass”. All they need to say to attract two happy customers. We get the nachos (obviously). I’m not sure whose ass they are referring to, but these nachos - while big - definitely aren’t as big as my big ol’ badonkadonk. They are certainly tasty though.

After grubbing out, we decide to just hang out on the beach. The beach in Tamarindo is not super crowded, but most of the folks on the beach are out peddling their wares in one way or another. Whenever they see a gringo, these consummate salesmen start slangin. We get offered everything from surf lessons to bird whistles to cocaine. A conversation with one gentleman on the beach actually hits all three of those products - he leads off with the surf lessons, we decline, moves on to bird whistles, we decline, on to the marijuana offer, again we politely decline, and he closes it out with a casual offer for a gram of cocaine. WE ACCEPT! Just kidding, we decline once again. 

After lounging for a bit, catching some rays, Brian and I decide to head down to Playa Langosta. Playa Langosta is a rivermouth beach that is like a 5-10 minute walk from Monica’s house. Not too many people on the beach. To get to the break, Brian and I ford the river on our boards and paddle out into the depths. Langosta is set up in such a way that there is mainly one peak to ride. There’s a crowd. It’s tough to catch waves. Especially because the locals are ridiculously good surfers. There’s a kid out there who’s maybe 10 years old, tops. Kid shreds. Brian and I are mesmerized at how good this little dude is. 

We catch some wave. We head back to shore. 

We get back to Monica’s place and hang with Ghost for a bit. He’s barking at the howler monkeys and so we try to help him catch one. It doesn’t work. Ghost is bummed for a bit, but he recovers and we walk around the forest. 

Brian and I decide to catch the sunset back at Tamarindo so we head down the beach. We sit on a log. 

This local Costa Rican gal walks up to us and starts chatting us up. The conversation continues to die naturally and she continues to ask questions. Brian and I are suspicious that she may be looking for some paid company this evening. After a few rounds of this and a sweet sunset, Brian and I head back to Monica’s to meet back up with her and plan the night’s festivities. More on this gal in a bit.

We meet up with Monica back home. Tonight is our big night on the town. There’s a reggae party and Monica is taking out a couple of her surf students (30/40 year old men, two pretty cool dudes from Florida and a dude from New York) out with us on the town. Sweet. We get spiffed out and ready to vibe with the nightlife. 

We meet up with the Florida dudes and Brooklyn bro and lo and behold who do we spy sitting at their table but the dame from the beach who had been chatting us up earlier. Yowza. Florida dude 1 is intent on m’lady. We are pretty sure she is a lady of the night. 

Florida dude 1 gets us beers. Monica gets our camera and starts taking lots of pictures. THANKS MONICA.

Chillin in the Chubbies

We finish up the old brew-has and head to get some grub at Monica’s favorite Tamarindo spot. I get casados. And a marg. We discuss politics. And football. And shorts. 

Brian took it upon himself to toast the group’s health and happiness. Thanks Brian!

It’s not quite time to get reggaelicious, so we head to a pretty cool upper deck pool hall. Brian and I lose at pool. But it’s just cause we let Monica win. Naturally. Pool pool pool. More pictures. Couple more beers. Locals and tourists alike are confused but intrigued by our shorts. Many questions. Many compliments.

Gal from the beach, Me, Brian. 

Time for reggae.

Reggae lunges.

Brian and I infuse ourselves with the Rastafarian spirit and get our grooves going on the dance floor. We repel all women except for Monica who takes pity on us and dances somewhat in our general vicinity. Our only saving grace is the hot hot shorts we’re rocking like muths.

From the left: Monica, Tom, Florida dude #2 getting with the program, Bob Marley

Reggae reggae reggae. 

Post reggae we head home and catch some z’s. On to day 4.

Day 4:

We leave Tamarindo today so we have to pack up all of our stuff and return our rental surfboards. Monica has to leave early in the morn so she wakes us up and we say our goodbyes. Bye Monica, bye Ghost. We are off to another little beach town called Santa Teresa that’s like 60 miles south.

We literally sprint to our next destination. 

My feet hurt when we arrive, but we pull it together and hit da beach. Beach beach beach. Surf surf surf. Shorts shorts shorts.

We are staying at a hostel called Tranquilo Backpacker (peaceful backpacker for those of you who don’t habla espanol). Our hostess (I’ll call her Oklahoma Yoga Lady) is from Oklahoma and loves doing yoga. She just moved to Santa Teresa a week ago. She’s a bit on the strange side. Direct quote from Oklahoma Yoga Lady - “if you drink Kombucha every day you will literally never get sick in your life”. She spacily hands us our keys and bedding. It takes like 45 minutes to complete this process. We ask her questions. She stares blankly for a few seconds before answering. She tells us about a Full Moon party that is going to happen in a couple days. Wahoo!

Tranquilo Backpackers is sweet. Hammocks all over the place. Tons of tourists from all over. Our next door neighbors are 1) a pair of German girls who are very nice, in Santa Teresa learning to surf, and 2) a group of Swedish girls who are really dang good at surfing, down in Costa catching GNAR. Nice gals. 

Hammock lounge

Best feature of Backpackers (short for Tranquilo Backpackers) is their ping pong table. Brian and I play like ten games a day. We get heckled by our neighbors a lot. 

We head out for some CASADOS and eat them up. We explore Santa Teresa. We see a sweet sunset and we take some pics.

Me and Brian with Malpais beach in the background. Brian and those damned capri pants.

Santa Teresa is pretty sweet - a bit more local-y than Tamarindo, definitely more surfer-y. Waves are big and nice. There are a few hostels and a few bars. Some decent restaurants as well. 

We head back in and grab a couple beers. We play ping pong. We drink the beers we bought. Mellow evening, we want to get up early for more beach action.

There’s a storm abrewin’. Brian continues the capri pants travesty.

CHUBBIES TRAVELS

Comin’ in hot with our first Chubbies Travels blog entry! Tom Montgomery (Chubster extroadinaire) went to Costa Rica over winter and this is the first entry in his seven-part series:

I went to Costa Rica for two weeks; this entry is on days 1 and 2. Kerplunk.

Day 1: 

Brian and I leave San Francisco on a red-eye to Miami at 9pm. Hell of a flight, but our tickets are only $250 round-trip. Suck on that. We get into Miami International at 5am ET and our next flight leaves at 10am ET. So we have plenty of time to burnalicious. We attempt sleep, but the damned airport is damned cold so we end up reading books and talking about Costa. Oh and we also make a little stop at Wendy’s to order from their delicious breakfast menu and slam down some silky smooth Frosties. 10am arrives and we hecka totes bail on Miami and take a jetplane to Costa. Some random lady tells me that there are tons of empty seats back where she’s sitting and that I could sleep back there. So I do. Nice lady. Three hour flight whizzes by. 

We officially arrive in LIberia Airport in Costa Rica and it’s burning hot - luckily I’ve got my Chubbies on. Costa Rica is stunned at the awesomeness of my shorts. You should have seen it’s face, it was all like “!!!!” and I was like “yup”. 

We need to find transportation. There are tons of cab drivers, but methinks they aren’t offering us the best deals as one of them offered a ride for $90 one way to Tamarindo and we have heard of a bus that costs $2. Oh yeah, Tamarindo is the next stop on our journey. Enter my amazing Spanish dialect to haggle the pricing. Apparently none of the locals can understand such eloquent Spanish and the haggling does not go well. Must be my accent. We wait for 2 hours and finally a policeman guides us to the correct bus and we get on that mother. $2 one way. TAMARINDO OR BUST.

Bus ride is magically totesliciously sweetage. The windows are rolled down, there’s foliage all over the place and a lot of locals puttin’ out the vibe. 2 hours later we’re in Tamarindo, a “resort-y” beach town known for having great surf and cool knightlife.

Tamarindo is, first of all, far from “resort-y”. It’s the least resort-y place I’ve seen. But, as Brian and I will learn later, it is definitely the most resort-y in Costa. Second of all, it’s awesome. Nice and warm (perfect Chubbies weather), friendly folks, great water and nice waves. Primo. Third of all, it was featured in Endless Summer, which is totally sweet.

Brian and I are Couchsurfing for this leg of the trip, and are staying with a local named Monica. Monica is originally from Laguna Beach, but grew up spending her summers in Costa Rica at her family’s beach house. Now she’s spending a year at that very same beach house and just groovin in the Tica culture and teaching folks how to surf. She’s a total cutie and super duper nice and outgoing. When we arrive at her house, she tells us that there’s a family of howler monkeys living in her tree and that her dog (a most righteous pitbull named Ghostfaced Killa, Ghost for short) has chased a pretty big iguana up her wall. We see the monkeys and we see the iguana. Our first wildlife encounter in Costa and we haven’t even been at our destination more than 5 minutes. 

Howler Monkeys

Monica immediately takes us to get some grub at one of her favorite spots in Tamarindo and Brian and I get our first Casados (rice, beans, main course like chicken or fish or veggies, salad, and awesome friend plantains), a traditional Costa Rican dish that proves to be the staple meal of our trip. After the meal, we head out to the beach and go for a Sunset swim in the 80 degree water. It’s pretty great. 

That night, Monica takes us out with some of her buddies to this hot Latin dance club. Literally every person there besides Brian and I is an expert salsa dancer. Dudes are flipping ladies all over the place, ladies are hip-wigglin like there’s no tomorrow and Brian and I are doing the white-boy shuffle. Apparently that’s not a dance sensation in Costa Rica but good times were had all around regardless.

Sleeping in Costa Rica is interesting because there’s no need for a blanket except to hide your body from mosquitos because it’s so burning hot. We figure out the mosquito repelling benefits the following morning when our legs and arms are blanketed with bites. All the way up to our mid-thigh because obviously we were wearing our Chubbies to bed.

Day 2:

Monica has today off work, so she hangs with us all day. We have a breakfast of an assortment of fruits and head to a surf shop to rent some boards. Brian gets a sweet longboard and I get this little fish and we head to the beach. 

One thing to note here, which will become a recurring theme throughout our trip, is the preponderance of dogs in Costa Rica. They are all over the beaches and roads and no one uses a leash. They are kind of like communal property; people feed them when they can and if they can’t, the dog will move on until it finds someone who will feed it or until it finds its home. Ghost (Monica’s aforementioned pit bull) is no different. Dude just chills on the beach hanging with every crew that rolls by, hitting on all the lady dogs, and catches up with us when he’s ready. 

Anyway, back to the beach. The surfing is pretty swell! Water is warm, sun is out, waves are nice and mellow, couldn’t ask for more for a first day out. Brian catches a few waves and I come up with a few as well. Monica catches literally a hundred waves. We surf for a few hours until hunger overtakes us. 

More casados.

Back to surfing. 

We head back after we’re all totally wiped out from the shred fest that took place throughout the day. We shower and get all changed up. Then we head toward this beach called Playa Langosta to catch the sunset. We sit on a log. We snap some photos. We walk back.

This is a good time to describe Monica’s beach house. It’s ridiculous. The way she described how to know we were at the right place was “my door is the one that goes into a jaguar’s mouth” and that’s exactly what her front door is. A giant painted jaguar with his mouth wide open and double doors that lead through his teeth. Her dad is an artist and there’s artwork all over the place inside. Sweet self portraits, political paintings and cultural paintings. Dude loves jaguars as well - they’re in a lot of his work. All in all, it makes for a pretty cool atmosphere. 

Me and Ghost hanging at the rad beach bungalow

Tonight’s pretty mellow. I read some surf mags. Brian reads his Kindle - something about how to be a bajillionaire entrepreneur. Monica reads some surf mags as well. We decide not to go out and opt for watching Wedding Crashers instead. 

Good first couple of days.

Stay tuned for the next entry!

- Tom “I hate pants” Montgomery and The Chubster Nation