Saturday, February 18.
Some ill-timed lady business has thwarted my hopes for a daylight dip.
While Jenn and Zoe go swimming at the nearby pool, I jump in the shower.
Partway through, I hear a knock on a door somewhere nearby.
I figure it’s probably someone knocking on the room next door, so I ignore it.
Then I hear a woman’s voice yell, “Hellooo!?”
I scramble out of the shower, thinking it’s maybe Jenn or Zoe wanting to enter the room.
Blind as a bat, I exit the bathroom, sopping wet, with a towel around me … and make out a blurry blob at the door that is neither Jenn nor Zoe.
I ask them to wait so I can get my glasses and see who exactly I’m dealing with.
(At this hotel, all the rooms have signs stuck to the doors with velcro strips with one message on either side: “Do Not Disturb” and “Please Clean”. Most people who have been to hotels have seen these signs hanging from their hotel room doorknobs, and know how to use these signs. One would also believe that hotel workers would trust that hotel patrons have an idea of how to use these signs. In our case, the sign is not hanging on the outer doorknob, because I’m still inside the room.)
I re-emerge, still sopping wet (and probably visibly annoyed).
“Limpiar?” she asks.
I don’t understand right away – plus I’m mildly frustrated – so I say that I don’t understand.
“Cleaning?!” she asks.
“No,” I say tersely (and probably louder than I should). “Tomorrow. Mañana.”
Not my best moment.
The beach is a short walk away. And when we get there, it’s teeming with people.
Jenn and I grab a couple of chairs in the shade amongst other tourists and hotel guests, while Zoe goes in search of a patch of sand in the son, to get a little colour.
We alternate between staring out at the water, people-watching, and reading, as trinket-peddlars and guys hawking ceviche-in-a-cup, pass by.
I get up and join Zoe for a walk along the beach, picking up pieces of shell and letting the water rush over my toes.
By the time we return to the hotel, I’m overheated, and I take a couple of minutes to myself, while sweating uncontrollably, in our room.
By the time early evening hits, Zoe’s feeling a bit off and tired, so she opts to combat it with sleep, in hopes of avoiding the same fate she’s suffered in La Fortuna.
Jenn and I go down the street to eat dinner and get some food for Zoe. By the time we return, she’s feeling much better – and ready for pizza with anchovies!
We spend the rest of the night drinking supermarket booze, and amusing ourselves with games, until drowsiness overtakes us.
Only one day in the hot, tropical sun remains.