I tilt my head in a way to let him know I’m ready to listen.
He’s quiet for a second and then says, “Ever since my divorce I’ve felt stuck, but I haven’t been doing anything about it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I’m also surprised to hear someone my age is divorced, perhaps because at thirty-five I haven’t even managed to make it down the aisle yet.
He nods. “Thanks. That’s why I came here to regroup. My friends sorta did an intervention on me. I wouldn’t say I was dwelling on the past, though that’s what they think, but it was more that I just didn’t want to move forward.” He shrugs. “Whatever that means. It’s not like I’m ready to get married again, but I also haven’t been dating or figured out how to move on.”
I’m surprised by how open he is, but then again sometimes the best person to confide in is a stranger, and it also probably helps when you’re both strangers in a strange land together.
“Yeah,” I say, “I’ve learned recently that I’m not the best with navigating relationships. I was supposed to get married in June, but my fiancé broke up with me.”
“Ouch! How long were you together?”
“Five years.”
“Huh. That’s how long I was with my wife. We married after a year of dating. That sucks about the wedding, but maybe in the long run it’s better to cut it off if it avoids the mess of divorcing. A better now rather than later situation?”
“That seems to be the general consensus.” I give a small laugh. “Though I kick myself for wasting all that time on something that was never really meant to be.”
“I hear that.” He leans back against his chair and shakes his head. “Anyway, that’s the past. At the moment, being here, right now, having lunch with a gorgeous woman in a beautiful country, I’m happy.”
“The power of now,” I joke.
He grins back. “Exactly.”
After lunch, he asks me what I’m doing the rest of the day, and I tell him that I’m planning to try out some of the meditation techniques that I learned this morning.
“Are you sure? Because there’s a lot to see, and if you’re only here six days there’s no time to waste.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet. “I was going to head to Manuel Antonio Park this afternoon with my camera. Any chance you’d like to join me?”
While I’ve calmed down since the monkey attack and would like to visit some parks, I’m a little leery about setting myself up as Alistair’s plus one on this trip.
“Thank you, but I’m going to pass today. Maybe later this week?” I offer.
He bows his head, looking at the ground for a second, and then looks back up at me. “Okay. Thanks for lunch, and I’ll catch up with you later.”
BACK IN MY room, I turn on the ceiling fan and open the French doors to the little adjoining patio to help circulate some air. While I wait for the room to cool down, I take out my journal and sit out on the patio (after first checking for any lurking monkeys). Before opening my journal, I close my eyes. I can hear the distant sound of the ocean waves, leaves rustling in the trees, birds calling to each other, but even with all these sounds everything feels quiet and still. This is the solitude I’ve been seeking. Not the lonely, isolating, sad existence of hiding out in my condo after getting dumped and fired and being too afraid of running into anyone. Even though I’m technically alone here on this trip, nothing about it is lonely. Instead, I’m choosing this quiet time—it’s both a reflection and celebration of how far I’ve come these last months. When I get home, I’ll be returning on a completely different course from where I thought my life was headed. And I’m finally feeling content with that. And with my eyes closed, I’m also feeling a little sleepy and let myself doze off again before journaling or meditating.
I RUN INTO Alistair the next day at breakfast. He asks how my retreat is going, and I tell him about Melody’s guided meditation that morning. He tells me about his visit to the park yesterday, and that he’s planning to return to do some snorkeling today.
“That sounds fun! I was planning to sign up for one of the hotel’s snorkeling tours,” I say. Yesterday was a peaceful day of relaxation and inward thinking, but today, now that I’m well-rested and in a tropical country, I’m ready to do some exploring.
“You could do that, or you could just join me.”
I hesitate for a second. But then think, Why not? It was something I already planned to do and it would probably be more peaceful to do it with only one other person than an entire group. So this time when Alistair asks if I’d like to join him, I say yes.
Since it’s the rainy season, the visibility for snorkeling isn’t great; but I still see schools of fish and enjoy the coral reef and the freeing sensation of being underwater. On the bus ride back to the resort, I look at some of the underwater photos Alistair managed to take and he describes to me the different species of fish that I saw. Overall, he turns out to be an interesting guy—he writes for television, and I learn that his slight accent and name are from his British mother’s side of the family, and that his father is a movie director in Hollywood. He’s full of fun stories and jokingly informs me that his English constitution makes him a good cocktail buddy in the evening.
The rest of the week after my morning meditation and yoga, I try to cover as much ground and do as much as possible on the island. I explore more of the beaches, take a horseback ride under a waterfall, scream my head off while ziplining, and even ask Alistair to join me for a visit to some national parks with the promise that he’ll protect me from any thieving monkeys (though thankfully we encounter more sloths, which are much more my speed, than monkeys).
While my moments of meditation have been meaningful and a practice I plan to take home with me, remembering what it feels like to be adventurous Allison again has been priceless.
WHEN MY RETREAT ended, I decided to see if Alistair was as good a cocktail buddy as he said. So I invited him to join me in town tonight to celebrate the fact that I don’t have to get up early tomorrow morning. Though at first I was worried about him glomming onto me, it didn’t prove to be the case; like me, he was just a fellow solo traveler who enjoyed some company some of the time.
This afternoon we visited Tenorio National Park and hiked to Rio Celeste, where we saw a lagoon in the most electric blue-turquoise color, and later we watched my last golden sunset of the trip. Now we’re soaking up the warm late July evening and enjoying our final hours in this wonderland. (Between the cloud forest, the rainforest foliage, and the various beaches, when I get home I want to paint my place in all the deep brilliant colors I’ve experienced to remind me of this trip.) My plane ride is tomorrow afternoon, and I want to squeeze every last minute out of this vacation.
“Are you ready to return to real life?” Alistair asks.
“Am I ready to leave? No.” I look out at the night sky and then at the smiling faces at the bar. “As for real life, nothing has felt really real the last few months anyway.”
“So are you ready to return to your surreal life?”
I laugh. “I’m not sure yet.”