hotel el silencio del campo

Melting into a pool from a natural hot spring, basking in warm sun and fresh breezes, drinking in the overflow of greenness punctuated by vibrant shocks of red, purple, pink, orange, yellow...above us looms the balding slope of the Arenal Volcano, its peak hidden by a thick grey circlet of cloud, like an oversized smoke-ring from a pipe. Peace has settled like fine dust onto the chairs and tables and angled rooftops of the collection of mini-villas that make up the hotel. With a deep breath and a gust of wind, I feel it coating the back of my throat, weighing on my eyelashes, brushing past the goosebumps on my bare legs. A bird with an echoing, alarm-like whistle-call cuts through the quiet afternoon as if he were awakening us to better appreciate his chirping mastery. My camera's dead right now, but even seeing the outlandish beauty of this slice of Eden, it's hard to believe that such a place exists outside the world of Dr. Seuss. It's strange to think wireless has crawled into even this place, slinging its thin strands of electronic fiber from the points of enormous leaves and draping them upon the edges of my screen. Alright, enough for now--I need to shower and think about planning out my classes before our cena. Hopefully tonight we'll go dancing somewhere and test our feet with the newly-learned rhythms of salsa, borchata, merengue, and Tico swing.