Shit. I’ve downed a third of my rum already. I wanted it to last the week but I may need to buy a new one by Wednesday. Let me tell you how I started on it…

I had a rice and meat dish for seven dollars today, and this is true. The food had pieces of crab, calamari, shrimp and pork and was good and hefty. SEVEN DOLLARS THOMAS SPITZER!!!!! I bought my first Cuban cigar ever and a quart of Panama rum, aged seven years. It burns like a splif at its last embers on your thumb and has a smooth, spicy taste.

I made it to the beach at 5:20pm and am walking along towards some volley ball players at a beach front hotel. It’s high tide and there is plenty of time to get settled and I brought my towel and a notebook to write in. Everyone who is enjoying the beach looks good and happy. I set myself on my towel and get my cigar going. It’s been awhile and I forgot how much you need to suck to get a sucker going. I’m wearing my tan aviators and mi sombero cafe. I took it off of a man I killed in a bar fight some years ago in Arizona(that’s a lie) and I could sell it as a prop in “A Nightmare on Elm Street” if they ever made another one(probably true). I am sitting so that the tide is just tickling my toes and I count 14 surfers enjoying the tide this evening. More than 100 people are out for this sunset today. It is cool out, and is the only time we really get this kind of cool on this beach.

One of the surfers catches my eye. She is really hitting those waves hard! She is wearing a light blue top that looks like a sports bra and black swim bottoms and hits several waves with a trained eye and balance like a cat. I watch and puff on my cigar. This chick must be here often…then it hits me. It’s her! Pez, the working girl, is a guru on a surf board. At one with the waves and no stranger to admiring eyes….

“Shit”! The tide comes in faster than I am able to respond and drowns my sandals, my towel and leaves me scrambling to save my hemp-straw satchel. In the rush I let my cigar fall out of my mouth and gets extinguished in the sand. By the time I recover and move myself away from the encroaching tide Pez has disappeared among the surfers enjoying their last moments of sunlight before night begins.

Pez has been surfing as long as she has been working in Jaco, which means she is damn good on a board and can get a decent day out of any kind of wave. This is how she keeps her physique for her profession and it is a body type that few in the business have; this is a boon for her and she knows it. Out on the waves everyone is your pal. Excited glances are shared as a good wave starts to form, and conservation is inevitable. “Yeah, I got a bonus from Whole Foods this spring, and my grades were good enough that my parents gave me a ticket for the break”. “Oh cool! I’m celebrating the first successful year of my business…So…what do you do”?

Pez always lies about her profession. With gringos she tells them she works a cash register in Quepos, the town outside of Manuel Antonio National Park. An hour’s drive away. When a native is out in the surf with them, she makes up stories about living in San Jose, or Liberia and moves on to different subjects. Most tourists have hit beaches from Spain to Hawaii, but Pez must always tell them, regretfully, that she have never been to another beach. There is only enough money for living expenses in her business, never for travel. She has never tried to tell anyone about her profession. A professional distance must be kept at all times, and anyone who knew her true self may become a potential client, seek her out, and ask for a discount. There is no space for personal involvement, and favors and friendships and lovers do not bring food to her table or clothes to her back. At least, this is what she believes and has seen happen to colleagues in the business.

I am making a point not to mingle with this crowd; I am not going to waste these working girls’ and boys’ time trying to convince me to buy their services.

Pez finishes up at the beach and heads home to bed. It’s Monday, and it is not worth working after a weekend. Besides, she made 1800 USD this weekend. A good haul, even for a holiday like Easter…

I stand barefoot staring at the sun, the source of it all, falling down into the horizon. The cigar is in my right hand and the quart of rum in my left. I am wearing a “Good Times” shirt with a guitar logo and khakis. I drink at the beginning of the sunset and I will drink again at its completion. I stand alone, and I’m sure someone on this beach is wondering why I’m wearing aviators after sunset and guesses that I drank a quart in the period of a sunset. I don’t. I see people having a good time. Their experiences in Jaco can be defined by this section of beach, the hotel pool and bar, and a restaurant or bar in town. They do not seek to know this town and do not want to know this town. They know enough to know they do not care. I do not want to know this town and I will not get to know it in the short span of time I am here. Additionally, I will be omitting some important parts of the culture and economy here in Jaco so there is no chance I will know the real Jaco. I put out my cigar and wrap it up tight. I want to dispose of it properly. No sense in adding anymore trash to the beach. I begin my walk back to my Hostal and organize my thoughts into a workable blog post or two for the evening.