Although I was in Tamarindo for a month I somehow didn't manage to get bored of the place. That month was full of new and exciting experiences; from learning to salsa for the first time to going to rodeos full of bulls, beer and baile. Week days were filled with Spanish lessons in the morning followed by an afternoon on the beach, surfing, reading, relaxing, testing out my Spanish and drinking fresh pipas. As temperatures cooled in the early afternoon, I would sometimes walk to neighbouring Playa Langosta with some friends from the school. Here the softest, white sand seemed to stretch on for miles and a dip in the crystal clear water was a perfect refreshment after the 20 minute walk over. Tamarindo sunsets would be accompanied by the lovely people I met from the school; people from Germany, the U.S., Sweden, France, Norway, and so many more nationalities. We'd chat in our broken English or Spanish conversations, over a few cans of ice cold cerveza until the sun turned red, illuminating the sky as it disappeared over the horizon. Afterwards I'd make tracks to catch a lift back to Santa Rosa for another night with the family. I fell in love with the Costa Rican way of life whilst in Tamarindo; it seems to be all about having fun, and dancing is a large part of it, rhythm seems to be in their blood as women (of all ages) dance effortlessly, gliding around the dance floor, and swaying their hips as the salsa or merengue music plays on. Even the men dance with no awkwardness at all, it's as if they were born to do it, and it makes a nice change to the guy's dancing moves back in England! We managed to sample some of the men's dancing talents in a rodeo we went to in Huacas, a small town 15 minutes outside of Santa Rosa. They were eager to dance with us (Ashley, Lindsay, Miranda, Sydney and Connie) to show how it was done, as they swung us round, coaxing our feet in the right direction they sent us into a dizzying frenzy of twirls and hip swaying steps. After a half hour or so some of us had had enough, except for Ashley who had already been miles ahead from the start, she continued to stun the guys with her insatiable salsa style rendering the guys speechless and not wanting her to stop! Whilst there we watched the faultless moves of grandmas dancing merengue with their grandchildren and husbands. This might have been where I started to fall in love with the Ticos, it's not everyday you see a grandma dancing salsa with her grandson or whoever else, certainly not in England anyway. Before the dancing had started that night I had just witnessed my first real rodeo, with 'sabaneros' or cowboys, handling lassoes whilst on horseback. Raging bulls also running riot in the ring and men frantically attempting to attract the bulls attention by kicking it or running into its path, then jumping into hidden gaps in the fence to escape the bull's lethal horns. From our high, unstable wooden stall, somehow managing to hold everyone up, we saw sabaneros being flung about like rag dolls as bulls burst out the docks enraged by the weight of the man on top, and possibly the hot poker someone had just poked its bum with. During the festivities, one unlucky sabanero had been trampled on by a furious bull, and another bull had fainted due to the rope being pulled too tight around its neck as they attempted to drag him out the ring. It wasn't the nicest thing to have watched, as we realised how cruel a sport it actually is. Afterwards we all felt a bit downhearted so we went in search of churros and somewhere to dance to lighten the mood.
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