Iguanas on a Hot Tin Roof

Sometimes, a girl has dreams about eggs. Mountains and mountains of eggs.  Or other times, she forgets to look up at the surrounding hills and feel a shiver of appreciation for her surroundings.  Or she wakes up and dreads weeding.  Or doesn´t enjoy her pinto for breakfast.

When any or all of that happens, it´s time for a change. And sometimes, that change comes along and knocks.  TJ, of Thanksgiving and Finca Chinchilla fame, worked for a few weeks at a hostel at a nearby beach, and the owners happened to need more help.  I just didn´t think that was the kind of thing a girl should turn down.  So, last Thursday, I pack up and moved out.  To Dominical, a sleepy little gringo-swarmed surf town on the southern coast.

The getting there was a little interesting, since TJ´s plans changed and he didn´t show at the market. I wavered at the market for a little while, helping Luz sell eggs and wondering what to do.  The longer I spend here, however, the more willing I am to walk into little known territory, and the more confident I am that there are helpful people out there.  I decided to gamble and go. My faith in friendliness paid off, and I met someone who helped me to my hostel with little more than "I think it starts with a ´p´ and is owned by Spaniards...."

The hostel itself is an open, laid back building with people coming and going at all times.  I work in the mornings cleaning rooms or completing odd jobs, and then wander on my own schedule in the afternoon.  It´s bizarre to have to much free time, but feels good after an exremely scheduled month and a half.  I haven´t conquered any surfing yet, but I will be sure to let you guys know when I do!

My front yard.