Eight now we're in Tamarindo, a beach town on the Pacific coast that the Lonely Planet guidebook describes as being heinously full of unimaginative American sun-worshipers, packed together like "beached whales." I take offense to being called a whale, and find their description totally at odds with what we've found here. Yep, it's becoming over-developed, but it's a beach town - what do you expect to find? Lots of locals fishing? Because I have been to plenty of "unspoiled" towns like that in Africa, and trust me, you don't want to go there on vacation unless you enjoy the smell of rotting fish.

Mostly there have been surfers and young couples here. It has rained every afternoon, so we get in a little beach and pool time in the morning, then watch Olympics on a staticky TV while Milo naps. Today I'm getting a treat and going for a massage, though, because my back is killing me from carrying Milo around.

Last night we had dinner at a very nice little place where there was just one waiter, who happened to be the boyfriend of the chef, who also worked as a hostess somehow. They are expecting a baby in November and we were so excited for them. Funny how you get so much more happy about babies once you have one yourself and know how great they are.

Just a few more days of vacation, then we are in the home stretch for heading back to Malawi!