When we went, Manual Antonio did not look like the beach depicted, b/c it was raining. The sky and the water looked gray and the tide was a touch rough.
We were there for two nights, hiking through the monkey-packed park and swimming only for like two hours on the beach. Husband and I took turns, so one of us could watch our stuff. He likes to go very far out. Not me. I get too nervous. Sure, I have the technique where you dive under the wave so you don’t get dragged to shore in a tumble (must have been Dad who taught me that, because Mom is a mess when it comes to swimming). Husband insisted I leave my glasses with him. I’d dive and periodically wave at him. I stayed out for what I hoped was a respectable amount of time, because in the moment, I really had no desire to be in the ocean. The waves looked unpredictable. I was second-guessing myself as to when to dive, and thus had many a salt-water-nose (awesome). After my final dive, I waved to him again and walked quickly towards him — and that’s when I realized I had been waving and walking towards the wrong man. Husband tried to run interference and screamed my name to no avail, but my eye sight is bad enough that I had to be pretty close to realize my mistake.
Dude, I was so embarrassed. This random Costa Rican man was like, What the hell is this woman harassing me for?