Day 5

He might be called The Naked Chef but just how close has Jamie Oliver brought his tackle to a hot frying pan or a pot of boiling pasta?

Tonight, we finally made the Spaghetti Carbonara that should have satisfied us and kept us on-location last night. It worked out pretty well and brought a nice enough end to a day that started well but threatened to turn badly pear-shaped. In the process, I was reminded that clothing-optional cuisine requires some particular care and attention.

The Goddess got caught out yesterday by a misplaced umbrella that kept her in the shade, apart for her left flank. Which got burnt. Obviously. We've also been suffering from heartburn -- don't you hate getting old(er)?! -- so this morning after breakfast we headed for the pharmacy in Cul de Sac for the equivalent of Zantac. The place is a delight, with a knowledgeable and thankfully bilingual pharmacist. 
[Cue funny story. I used to work for a small software company, headquartered in Oakland, California. On one visit to HQ for a training course, the instructor made a comment and then turned to me to try to explain the Americanism. I was going to jokingly say that it was OK, I  understood, because I was bilingual. Of course -- you can guess where I'm going with this -- what I actually said was, that's Ok, I'm bisexual. ]

Back to beach: sand, snooze, sand, swim, Perch. This time I did the swim from Papagayo to The Perch without a break at the platforms -- I just swam up and touched them before continuing on. If anyone has access to google earth, I'd be interested to know the distance between the two bars. I reckon it's about 500 meters but it would be good to know.

Beer, another beer, collapse into sand, sleep.
The Goddess is hungry now so, back down to The Perch. We shared a swordfish sandwich from Jennifer and joked with Willy about the staff on her yacht. (You had to be there.) Two more beers without the swim to earn them first. Uh-oh. Really good time at the bar then back to the beach before a break and then we headed to check out Club Fantastico. Or, so we planned. At that point, things went tits-up. (That's a peculiarly British way for peculiar Brits to say that a plan fell apart.) We had arranged with Chloë to view CF as a possible base for our next trip. She provided directions and I reckoned that we could walk there in 20 mins. I obviously misinterpreted the directions because after walking for 30 mins in the very hot sun, we had no idea where the place was and The Goddess's mood was turning very stormy and we turned round for another 30 minute walk back to base. I expected her to be calling down thunderbolts any minute. We resolved things later but it made for a dark afternoon.  We will probably still check out Club Fantastico but at least we know that we will need to drive to and from the place if we stay there.

The reason we looked at the place is that-- and here we come to some actual travel reporting -- is that Club O doesn't have a lot going for it at night. Even by our standards, where we like to just relax and read and chat, we miss not having some amenities at hand. Particularly, access to a pool or hot tub and that's where renting a villa scores. The ideal place of course would be a villa right on a nude beach. Not sure where I might find one of those, mind you.

Anyway, after settling back in, I went to Papagayo to check up on the booking sheet for the Tiko-Tiko trip tomorrow. The good news is that there are enough signed up for it to happen. I made one last swim of the beach ( hard going this time) and headed back to our unit to make a couple of glasses of Kir and put the water on for the pasta.

And with those thoughts, dear readers, I bid you good night.