This morning, under unsettled skies, we docked in Puntarenas, Costa Rica. We booked no tour. We want only to walk around in Puntarenas, a town so small that the cruise ship’s destination guide does not bother to show a map of it and talks only of what the tourist might see in other places in Costa Rica.

A walkway along the beach hosts several blocks of makeshift kiosks selling handicrafts and souvenirs to debarking tourists from the cruise ship, and, perhaps also to any local tourists who may have come to enjoy the wide, sandy beach. Already we can tell a difference between Puntarenas and our previous destinations. Smile and say, “No, gracias,” and the vendors here respond with a smile, “De nada.” Meet the eyes of a stranger, and smiles are exchanged.

I photograph a rustic beach structure where a Costa Rican family watches their children play, while I also try to get the cruise ship in the background.

A little girl of the family maybe five or six years old meets my eye. She returns my wave. I continue down the walkway, and the girl runs up to me. She is offering me a small piece of prettily painted folk art. I don’t want the folk art; what I want is to take a picture of her. With gestures and use of the word “photografia” (I hope this might be understandable in Spanish, which I don’t speak), I ask her permission. “Si,” she says, posing prettily with her art object. I take the picture and offer her a dollar.

“No!” she says. She is vehement in her refusal. Instead, she offers me her art object again.

I think, “Okay, if it’s a sale she wants, I can do it that way.” I take the object, an apparent desk adornment of painted wooden flowers, and offer her the dollar for it.

“No!” she insists. “No, es un gado!” (or something that sounds like that… probably, my later research reveals, “regalo.”) She shakes her head and backs away from my money. “Regalo!” she repeats.

I don’t know Spanish, but I know a gift when one is thrust upon me. “Gracias,” I say.

“De nada.” It is a solemn moment. Then we smile at each other, and the girl returns to her family. I keep looking over there, catching the eye of the mother to make sure I’ve done no wrong. But all appears to be fine. When I walk back down the pathway, I wave, and the girl waves back.

I am now the proud owner of the most beautiful desk ornament ever.

There aren’t many beggars in Puntarenas, but there are a few. I keep coins in my pockets and give some to everyone who asks. I have received a gift from an angel, and I want to pass it along. Today, I feel blessed.