The moment of disconnect was defined by everything that defines late-season Guanacaste. It was hot and lethargic, and the laziness was contagious where work was concerned. But if you were free to find the ocean and shade at liberty, the lifestyle was supreme. There were mangos on every mango tree, and all the river crossings were passable, which opened quiet beaches along the whole coast to those with the appropriate sensitivities to find them. The dust hung in the air from one spring break crowd to the next, and it would be that way until the first shower opened up the green season. That was the paradox I woke up to one last time before I left.