On the bus, on the bike, on the beach

There was a partly new constellation. A new tour leader, a few losses, fewer gains. For the first time since the 2,5 hour ride from Cancun to Playa del Carmen it was time to go by public transport. The bus was packed, lacked restroom and didn't intend to stop along the way. It had both legroom and aircon, though, so it was still a comfy ride to the Caribbean coast.
Puerto Viejo de Talamanca is a laid back little town where the surf's up and reggae rules. I was hoping to get in the water, and promptly contacted the only diveshop in town, as well as the one the next village over. The local one had closed earlier in the autumn, so their auto reply told me. The more distant one informed me that the recent heavy rain fall had dragged a lot of silt into the sea, and therefore visibility was crap. So again, I missed an opportunity for diving due to funky weather.
There was no reason to put on the frowny face, though. The cozy little coastal town offered other objectives as well. We went to the nature reserve by the beach, spotting iguanas, sloths and millions of centipedes, then to a cocoa place, doing archery, putting natural makeup on, making chocolate, and finally going to the waterfall for a swim in the swirly water.
The lack of diving the next day also meant that I could, with a reasonably clean conscience, have a big night out, as the following day were a relaxing day by the beach.
Well, relaxing might be to stress it a little; the beach some 10 km away was supposedly better than the one in town, and therefore we rented bikes and set off under the beaming sun. We managed to overshoot the exit by a couple of k:s, though, so the bike ride got slightly longer than expected. It's a tradition, or an old charter, or something.
It was a very nice beach, in fairness. There were a lot of dogs around, and at least one of them were very keen on taking our newly bought communal frisbee. It was not as keen on returning it.
The last night in Costa Rica was a quiet one, and that turned out to be a good thing. The border crossing was a bit of a struggle, for a man from my latitude.
A short enough drive to the border was followed by a series of standing in line in a frighteningly inefficient process of, you know, checking a passport and stamping it.
So, in 40 degrees, humidity closing in on the 90's and no shade whatsoever (seriously, how hard or expensive can it be to just raise a bit of cover?) we stood in line. And again. After two hours of saunaesque (with the major difference that with the sauna one can leave whenever to cool down, or even jump in lake through the hole in the ice) red tape, I was finally in the last country of this odyssey. I might count some countries that others don't, and I may have forgotten some that should be counted, but by my reckoning, Panama is my country #60.