Hammock Review:

Tamarindo, Costa Rica

As I went to sit in the array of hammocks, as a hammock model is known to do for a photoshoot, I quickly sensed the distinct possibility that the storefront hammock display may in fact not be designed for that and so I promptly shifted my remaining weight from the hammock back to my feet to avert any impending disaster of hammocks collapsing all around me.

To be clear, I personally do not view a hammock landslide or the idea of hammocks pouring down upon me in a negative light. To the contrary, I view a downpour of hammocks in more of a utopian light, the rainy season that gives life to a tropical paradise, the sustenance for the Garden of Eden’s sensible rejuvenation*, a sort of rebirth from a second baptism, preparing us for The Beautiful Hammock Future.

But unfortunately, we are not in The Beautiful Hammock Future.

Yet.

And so we must (or at least at times should) act in accordance with (some of) society’s current conventions, expectations, and views, which would include seeing a hammock storm as a public disturbance and possibly a crime of public destruction.

Being an educated model of hammocks, I recognized this was not the time or place for an arrest**, and so I drew upon my modeling know-how to strike a different pose, one where I would carry the weight.

While the slow lowering of the body into lounging position is an ability that is the subject of closer analysis than quick feet in most hammock modeling combines***, I summoned those agile inner elementary school tag skills of old to avoid being hit with any hammock destruction citation that would have potentially come from lowering all of my weight onto the hammocks.

So instead of lounging in the bundle of hammocks, I stood by the hammocks.

As I always do, symbolically. Like the great Pretenders of old, I will always stand by hammocks. I will always stand up for hammocks.

But I would much rather be lying down in them.

In a way, this was a microcosm of Tamarindo. It is beautiful like a bundle of hammocks, providing any kind of leisure your heart desires.

There is a gorgeous beach, with people strolling around. Boats. Surfing. Live music. Public performances like fire juggling. Good food. Great weather. Pura vida.

But pura vida is almost all the Spanish you’ll get in Tamarindo. Sure, that may be a little bit of an exaggeration; but not by much, with English dominating the town full of gringos, mostly Americans.

In a way, it feels like you are not actually in Costa Rica.

In a way, it feels like a display.

A really nice display, don’t get me wrong. Tamarindo is aesthetically pleasing, as displays are meant to be.

And this display, in this Hammock Review which some websites call Hammock Literature, displays really nice symbolism, as should be displayed in good (or even so-so****) literature.

As we have shown here in this literature of this Hammock Review, this hammock display could be symbolic of Tamarindo. And hopefully once we explain this symbolism, more hammock symbolism will be used in mainstream literature just as it is often employed in Hammock Literature, or at least on its way to achieving such a beautiful dynamic as we lounge closer to The Beautiful Hammock Future, in our slouching position.

We should be clear here: one who travels to Tamarindo is not necessarily a travelling slouch, as fierce literary critics may call a wordsmith a writing slouch just because they are acting a little slouchy at times with lazy transitions of repeating a word (let’s say slouch) from the end of one paragraph to the beginning of another to feign some sort of logical progression from one paragraph to the next. But maybe the literary loser (the aforementioned dickhead critic, not the handsome wordsmith) could stand to gain from recognizing there is nothing wrong with being a little lazy now and then in slouching hammock times. So even if we were to call the Tamarindo traveler a slouch, it would not be negative.

We say all of this because travelling is often divided into two categories: authentic and unauthentic. And in such an overslouched system, Tamarindo would fall into the latter.

But we do not use such a faulty system here in Hammock Reviews, where we slouch appropriately. We are not ones to label experiences in a binary dynamic of “authentic” and “inauthentic” or “real” and “unreal.” What is one’s authentic experience in Costa Rica (or anywhere)? What is the “real” Costa Rica?

The latter is certainly not for me to say at all, but the former—the question of authenticity—is one I would like to engage with. I believe anyone who is acting authentic themself is engaging in an authentic experience. In other words, I don’t believe an authentic experience necessary depends on the outward description of the experience, but rather on how a person is inwardly engaging with it. While Tamarindo may not outwardly seem as authentic as some rural Costa Rican town not flooded with tourists (though tourists certainly abound in the beautiful country), a person engaging authentically in Tamarindo could have a more authentic experience than the person not as authentically engaged in that rural town, though it may be possible to say that some places—like the less touristy town—may more easily facilitate genuineness and authenticity.

But the questioning of authenticity in relation to place can be understood. Many citizens of any country may hold a certain grudge, animus, or dislike for the country’s biggest and/or most prosperous city, as discussed in the documentary Let’s All Hate Toronto, or in my personal experience travelling to Venice with my sister and uncle and asking the hotel clerk for a food recommendation; he replied by naming a local favorite, followed by:

“Like they say, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans.’”

Then added, with a shit-eating grin:

“But thank god we’re not in Rome.”

Even though as tourists, we had just quite enjoyed Rome a few days back, his statement needed no explanation as throughout societies throughout history this has likely been a common thread, one that should have been as common as hammock threads if humankind would have been doing things better.

And of course it goes both ways on the urban/less urban street. In Seinfeld, the rare samplings of the characters venturing out of New York City are often portrayed as if they’re entering a foreign land. Their portrayal of Ohio, for instance, is pretty comical caricature.

We can fairly say both New York City and Ohio are authentically American. A society, regardless of its size, is diverse and has many authenticities if you look close enough.

Yet, the touristy element***** can make things tricky.

Probably because there’s something sometimes implied in a tourist experience that it should represent something larger than itself, provide a peak into something bigger, when such an idea is usually problematic.

The question “Is New York City authentically American?” is not the same is as “Is Time Square representative of New York City?”

The pair of questions “Is Maine authentically American?” and “Is Maine representative of the United States?” have a similar dynamic.

The question could be asked of just about any location looked at in a larger context.

Are the most southern parts of Maine truly Maine?

Is Connecticut authentic New England?

Is Waikiki authentic Hawai’i?

Many people may say it isn’t really.

But what if it were at the top of your grandma’s bucket list to see Hawai’i. And you travelled all the way there—the farthest she’s ever flown—and pushed her around Waikiki Beach in her wheelchair in what was a truly spectacular moment for both of you. Would you say—or even let others say—beyond the emotional tears of joy in her eyes, she did really see true Hawai’i?

But let’s not get lost in the weeds of endlessly exploring these eternal questions, as the answers could be endless, especially if we were to integrate into the delicate discourse our ever-educated and always-astute audience, for our readership is as diverse as it is large in these handsomely-hung Hammock Reviews.

So therefore we will wrap things up like an authentically handsomely hunky and handsome traveler putting his healthy wholesale hammock in his hearty hammock bag to engage with the next destination, for authenticity is about engagement and thus travels like a hammock and the only true questions we need to ask are: do we hang our hammock or keep it in our bag? Or, if we do not currently have a hammock on our person: do we look for a hammock or pursue dumber, duller, more repetitive pursuits?

And we already know the answer to those questions in our hearts and souls just as we already know the verdict of this blessed ablest Tamarindo Hammock Review.

As Tamarindo may be one of those places that requires a little extra effort in the engagement of sincerity in a Waikiki-way than other places might, you might have been thinking at one point that this stellar Review was leading to a less-than-stellar rating for this Tamarindo Hammock experience. But by now you should not be surprised by the verdict as you are already fully aware that any hammock in existence is an authentic hammock.

Authenticity transcends geography. Hammocks transcend geography. For you can simply pick them up and move them. They are a portable authenticity. As Hemingway described Paris as A Moveable Feast, so too is the hammock the moveable authenticity. And in The Beautiful Hammock Future, it will be the hammock that provides the knockout punch in your 2-Step Authentication, not the addictive smartphone. For wherever you are with your hammock—or any hammock—people will know that you are authentically you.

In The Beautiful Hammock Future, people will put down the smartphone and put themselves down into the hammock as the ultimate selfie, the ultimate self-portrait.

For whereby in more inefficient times James Joyce spent over 85,000 words to paint A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man and Oscar Wilde used over 65,000 words to snap The Picture of Dorian Gray, the picture or portrait of authenticity in The Beautiful Hammock Future will simply be one or two words (depending on your preference of using or accounting for grammatical articles or not): the hammock.

For where there is a hammock, there is authenticity.

And where there is a bundle of hammocks, well, we might as well just call that a bundle of authenticity.

*no one ever heard of any hammock lounger accepting an apple from a snake, let alone being tempted by it; even the thought of it is absurd

**the time and place for arrests are pulling drunken (non-motor vehicle-related, let’s be safe) stunts and shenanigans while in college.

***and other athletic combines oddly ignore this kind of reposing weight redistribution.

****or also even pedestrian literature one might naturally read outside of a hammock, probably on a Kindle as they walk as they might be an exercise nut, providing their body a tremendous workout while only indulging their brain in only marching-towards-middling intellectual activity.

*****not so much the tourism industry of Ohio…