I really envied the dogs.
They wandered the roads with abandon. They slept wherever they wanted. They were shaggy and street smart, and they didn’t keep much of a schedule. Most dogs had no collars or licenses, and they went by several names. They’d follow us down the beach. They made a show at dinner, circling our table and eagerly eyeing our plates for scraps.
Really, the dogs set the tone for Brasilito, one of Guanacaste’s most laidback beach towns. Clocks don’t matter much here, nor do fences or rules. From the moment we stepped off the bus, I imagined what it would be like to live in such a place: I could set up a crab shack, talk up travelers, and scratch a stray dog’s ear for a few hours a day. I’d have a boat, obviously. And maybe a motorcycle. Continue reading