An hour and a half away from the city, the highway continues west along-side scattered beach communities, resorts, surf schools, and emptiness. To the north are hills, valleys, a rugged and dry-looking landscape this time of year. Up in these hills is El Valle de Anton, a popular weekend escape. A few ridges over there's a lower key community, La Laguna. Somewhere in La Laguna we find ourselves at the Mamallena Ecolodge.
The property is a birders paradise. Cell coverage is spotty. The internet exists, but it seems to have some problems. Food is grown on site, and prepared for guests by volunteers (i.e., low-budget travelers from all over the world). A river runs through it, but has been damned off to create a natural pool.
If not for the spotty internet, it would be the perfect remote-productivity sanctuary. For any non-internet objective, it is the perfect sanctuary. Niki is here to watch birds, swim with tadpoles, draft concepts for a comic strip idea. Jeff is here to write. Taylor loses herself in wildlife photography.
In between these activities, we swim or hike. We chat with other guests, each with their own agenda. At night, we play mafia with the volunteers. One of the hosts takes everybody on an educational tour of the property. Did you know that a pineapple plant produces only one pineapple, then dies?
All the food we eat is grown on site. All the waste we produce is composted on site.
The wind howls at night.
