No matter how far I travel, or how many ports I see, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat of the tropics. When I first joined the ship in Tahiti, I remember the wall of heat and humidity as I stepped off the plane – plastering everything from hair to travel skirts to my skin. Costa Rica feels like that.<\/p>\n
That said, it is a lovely place, about as a far from a big city as you can get, street stalls line the roads (where traffic direction seems to be a foreign concept) and music spills from local cafes (where I’m sitting as we speak – er, type). Everything is colourful, beach towels flap in the hot breeze and multicoloured umbrellas provide what might conceivably be called shade. Though in all honesty the shade isn’t much cooler than the sun. The sun though, is truly luscious – even ghost-girl like me can feel her skin starting to brown despite the layer of sunscreen I cannot allow myself to be without.<\/p>\n
Such a change from the European climates I’ve gotten used to over the last few days.<\/p>\n
I’ve been trying to focus my thoughts in on something to write about, some kernel of experience that best wraps up a port like this – but the truth is, there’s something about tropical ports that shuts off your brain, especially when you’re coming off a long hard slog of four months going non-stop…<\/p>\n
Pour me something tall and strong, make it a hurricane before I go insane….<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
No matter how far I travel, or how many ports I see, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat of the tropics. When I first joined the ship in Tahiti, I remember the wall of heat and … Continue reading