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mesmerising eerie feel . When the afternoon clouds swept in , we fled the certain rain in the mountains for the more unpredictable weather of the wild and windy Pacific Coast , hoping to get lucky with some sunshine . Preparations for the surfing competitions were in full swing along the coastal route . Barefooted guys in board shorts were carrying surfboards to the most promising beaches and traffic slowed for competitors in brightly coloured sportswear going for a run along the main road , where there are no footpaths .
We left the excited bustle behind and headed further south where the waters were calmer . On the tiny beach peninsula by Bosque Santa Clara time seemed to stand still . The
tiny fishing community stretched along the peninsula between the ocean on one side and mangroves on the other . It culminated at a sandy tip with open-plan houses built of bamboo poles and palm leaves that occasionally convert into impromptu restaurants if a hungry tourist should find their way . We persuaded the owner of the closest one to leave his stripy hammock for a moment to sell
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