Today I smelled an aroma that immediately brought me back to childhood. I couldn’t place the strawberry coconutty scent, neither in its location today (in fact, it could have been a bathroom air freshener) nor in my past, but I knew it had something to do with summertime, or perhaps family vacations in Florida.
There is evidence that scent is the most intense trigger of memory. I would say that taste comes in a close second. I wrote an article about the taste of Costa Rica for Casa Maracuya‘s website last month. It was a post that I had started for Family Freedom Project, but never got around to finishing.
I was working that website today and re-read my recipe for Passionfruit Screwdrivers. As I did, specific memories of drinking that beverage, including the feel of the paper cup in my hand, the coolness of the ice, the setting of the sun as I walked down the gravel road, and what I was wearing (I remember what I wore for all important and unimportant occasions) all flooded into my head.
As I prepare for our return to Guanacaste and specifically Tamarindo later this month, I get these short flashes of sensory memory every now and then. Here’s how my senses remember the Pacific Northwest Coast of Costa Rica and how I imagine our first few hours off the plane will feel.
Stepping of the Plane at the Liberia, Costa Rica Airport
As we get off the plane, I know I will immediately smell and taste the ocean salt and humidity, even though the Liberia airport is about 30 km from the beach. We’ll also feel the heat and immediately strip off our outer layers, stuffing them in our carry-on bags. The kids and Derek will walk down the steps onto the tarmac and head straight for the bathroom to change into shorts and flip flops. At this point, we’ll start to hear more Spanish than English, though it will be muffled by the sounds of the huge fans whirring overhead. And it will still be hot. There is no air-conditioning in this part of the airport.
We’ll get our bags, have them scanned and leave through the doors of the inner doors of the airport. As we exit, several people will shout to us from different directions, asking if we need a rental car or a taxi. We’ll decline and scout out our driver holding a sign with our names on it. He’ll help us put our heavy bags into the back of the freezing cold van. He’ll offer us cool water and even a beer for the grown-ups. Or maybe, if it’s been a busy day, he may just suggest we stop at a mini-super – a convenience store – for a drink. Derek will want to stop for a Coke Zero.
Inside the mini super, it’ll be warm; there’s no AC in these places. Luckily, the fridges are usually cold enough. It will smell a little bit like rotting fruit and if it was garbage day today, it may smell a bit like hot trash. We’ll thank the cashier in Spanish, and head back to the van.
Fifty minutes of Spanish small talk later, with the sound of the rolling open of the van door, we’ll breath a sigh of “we’re home” and open the door to the sharp smell of salty air, hibiscus flowers, and sometimes a hint of sewage; it’s the developing world after all.
We’ll drop our things in our rented condo, change into bathing suits, and head across the street to feel the sand in our toes, the salty wind in our hair, and the cool and salty taste of a Michelada or a mango batido (smoothie) quenching our thirst.
I’m predicting the boys will feed their hunger with chicken and thick cut french fries, while Derek chooses a caprese panini and I go for… hmm… shrimp cocktail made with the hugest, most perfectly cooked shrimp in all of Tamarindo.
We’ll hear French, Spanish and English spoken around us. We’ll here splashing in the pool and laughter at the bar. Soon, we’ll begin to feel fatigued after a long travel day.
We’ll head inside and eventually fall asleep to the sounds of the warm winds, the cicadas and the geckos laughing – it only took me about 2 years to figure out who or what was making this sound.
I can’t wait.
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