I woke up with a hangover.

Now wait just one minute. A hangover? Come on. I’m no biology buff, but it shouldn’t take my liver 12 hours to metabolize the alcohol from two (rather girly) drinks from the night before. Even if it wasn’t a hangover, it sure felt like one. Why did I feel like such crap?

Maybe it was dehydration. Or lack of exercise. An omega-3/omega-6 imbalance? Rolling out of the wrong side of the bed. The possibilities were endless less than dramatic and all remediable in one morning.

My grand solution? Eat something. And get some fresh air.

I wanted to find breakfast with a view. For a town that’s built on the edge of the ocean, this should’ve been easy breezy. Not so. We drove up and down the main road from one end to the other, but nothing was open. Manuel Antonio caters to backpackers, and that means a hoppin’ night life. Not exactly the place for early risers.

Just as we were about to give up, I saw a small sign for a restaurant at the Costa Verde HotelBreakfast * Lunch * Dinner.

Breakfast, we found you!

And View, we found you too.

The plan, after breakfast, was to get to the beach and rent a surfboard at high tide. Kirk kept an eye on the waves between each bite of his pancakes (courtesy of our amazing view).

Now, for some photographic evidence to justify the title of this post:

Kirk’s done this a few times before.

Me?

I still use the knee approach.

Nevertheless, I made it onto two feet. Don’t you love the intensity?

This is the “I got-up! Twice!” smile.

After our surf session, we showered, checked-out, and scoured the shops for souvenirs.

Then, all too soon, we had to wave adios to the beach and the little town. See you next time.

We had a date with Rocky at noon. It was time to head home. ☼