Puntarenas, Costa Rica

There are hills in Puntarenas. Mountains, really, and I see them in the distance. Soft, blue-grey peaks soaring into the sky.

We’re in port, docked just off a long sandy spit from which it is named. Teddy tells me that Puntarenas translates into Sand Point. I didn’t believe her and asked our Spanish tablemate last night what it meant, who then quite rightly chided me for doubting.

The beach is dotted with Sunday bathers, locals probably even though there are two cruise ships in port. Given the option, I’d rather swim in the pool than in the ocean unless there are rocks nearby offering the possibility of good snorkeling.
Today is very hot. Thirty-three degrees and the air is heavy with moisture. Hans, Teddy and I walked into town stopping to browse through the beach markets. They make beautiful bowls and boxes out of wood here, using different woods in different colours all polished to a rich, warm gleam.

We stopped to rest and refresh ourselves with a Smirnoff Ice at one of the quaint beach huts with thatched roof. The break from the heat was welcome but even so, by the time we got back my face had turned an unattractive but vibrant fuschia whereas Hans and Ted still looked as cool as when we left.

Now, we’re just waiting to cast off. We’re leaving a little late again so it must be that one of the tours was somehow delayed. If it’s an official Princess tour the ship will wait for you but if you made your own arrangements to go somewhere and are unexpectedly delayed, tough luck. However, I just heard over the PA system that 3 people are missing and asked to check in with Passenger Services. Then the Captain came on.

“We don’t have much leeway as to when we pull out otherwise there’s a fairly strong current that we’ll be encountering which will make the movement of the ship a lot more interesting and exciting. I’d like to avoid that excitement.” And then he told us that we’d be moving our clocks ahead one hour yet again! They’re chipping away at our sleep time bit by bit.