For those of you that don´t know, I´m currently in Leon, Nicaragua. And I love it. I think it is one of my favorite places so far. It is the second largest city in Nicaragua, founded sometime like most Latin American cities by the Spaniards and is home to numerous historic Spanish colonial homes and churches (I think there are about 20). Anyways, enough history, let´s get on to the good stuff.
I arrived yesterday by bus…And I can´t stress how awesome it is to catch an hour and a half bus ride for 2 bucks…WIN. I´m staying at a cool backpackers hostel called the Bigfoot Hostel, I tend to chose hotels solely on name…so it was a clear winner (I think I´m headed to Surfing Turtle next, I mean how can you not want to stay at a beach hostel called Surfing Turtle???) Before I had arrived in Leon, I had heard from other travels of an unique experience called Volcanoe Boarding…again how can one not participate, so upon arrival I quickly signed up for the next outing...the next morning at 9. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening walking the city with a new friend, Genna, from the Netherlands. We walked, and walked, and walked; saw churches, and murals, and more churches. We shared a drink atop El Alamo, one of the tallest buildings in town. There we saw a beautiful sunset, and could gaze at the wonderful scenic view, ocean to the west and volcanoes to the east.
A SHOUT OUT to a special someone! Miss you!
I packed very light this trip, leaving the majority of my stuff at Crater´s Edge to be picked up later, so I needed to find a cheap little backpack to use for a few days. To search for one, I visited the newest shopping center where I began my hunt. I knew more or less what I wanted, a simple Jansport would suffice. As I browsed the shops however I spotted a hot pink Fila pack. I was awesome, but about 15 bucks…so I continued my search. As I began to ask the venders what they had available I was astonished to find they were very honest. “Do you have any Jansport Backpacks,” I would ask. I expected to hear something like yes, yes what color do you want…but what I got instead to “Yes, but they are not real, imitation only.” Cool I thought, since everything with a brand name here is imitation, I guess that will do. So I am now the proud owner of a new red imitation Jansport pack.
Okay, skip to this morning´s more obscure and badass event…Volcano Boarding, or more appropriately named, Extreme Volcano Sledding. This sport, if you can call it one, is best described by the following…
1) Jamming 10 stupid, sweaty backpackers in the back of a beat-up pickup to endure the one hour ride to the site (mind you, roads to distant volcanoes in Nicaragua are all but paved)
2) Hiking an hour up an awesome (barren death like landscape) Volcano under the sweltering sun and heat.
3) Suiting up, in what most closely resembles a jailhouse jumpsuit (probably because they figure if you are stupid enough to do this, you have been or will end up in jail at some point in your life) and chem googles (because everything is better when done wearing chem googles).
4) Sitting atop a makeshift sled pieced together from scrap plywood, an old waterski handle, some rusty screws, and what appeared to be linoleum flooring.
5) Hurling yourself back down the 41 degree face of the Volcano just spent an hour climbing to get to the top. NOTE: while safe/controlled techniques are demonstrated, you don´t get your name on the record board for “Most Controlled Descent.” Speed however is forever recorded, and there is always bragging rights. In my opinion “best crash” should also be a category, and I hereby nominate myself for the award.
6) Revel in the awesomeness.
7) Drink a Mojito
After I returned from the awesome volcano boarding stupidity, I quickly showered and caught a taxi to the local baseball stadium to catch the Leon Lions play the Bóer Indians in a LNBP showdown (la Liga Nicaragüense de Béisbol Profesional, or Nicaraguan Professional Baseball Leauge). It was a fun game; the home team lions won 8-2.
On the way back to the hostel from the game, I passed the yellow church, you know the one…where you turn left to get back to the hostel, yeah that one. As I passed there was this very happy man, he kept smiling and shouting, “I love you, I love you, I am a son a god. I love Christmas, I love you, I am saved.” It took a moment to realize he was yelling at me, and then another few minutes of conversation to realize that apparently… I look like Jesus.
So I´m off for now, that Internet café closes in 8 minutes and I still have to post this. But before I go, you should know that tonight, under the full moon I will be hiking Volcan Telica. So… if you see the moon tonight, think of me, and know that I will be thinking of you!
Take care, have faith, be happy
xoxo
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
26 October, 2009| God Damned Stingray
So, I was on my own. Hayley and Cass left this had left for Panama, and I was off to Jaco. I took quick glance at my Lonely Planet guidebook to see just which bus terminal I needed to reach before I asked the friendly man at the front desk how to get there. The Coca Cola Terminal was supposedly just down the road, as the map showed (cheap, on so accurate map of the city given by the hostel). We are here (noted by the red star) and the terminal is here (marked with a small bus-like shape near the edge of the page). Okay I thought to myself, it’s a nice day and I’ll skip the taxi and walk to save a few bucks. Good idea right? Wrong! Not that anything bad happened, but as it turned out the small map prepared by the hostel was not quite to scale. I believe that a few streets had been omitted from the map in order to fit the terminal. I walked through downtown San Jose, packs and all, toward the station. And I walked, and I walked, and I walked some more. I was just about to give up, when I ducked into a small shop to ask just how I still had to go to reach the small bus-like marker that seemed so close. You might be thinking what!? Real men don’t ask directions! True, but real men (gringos with backpacks) who get lost in the wrong part of San Jose also never get seen again. As it turns out, the terminal was just around the corner. I arrived at the crowed terminal and begin to ask where to ticket office could be found. I don’t know why, but taxi drivers just don’t seem to understand why travelers would rather spend 3 dollars on a bus ride than 30 dollars on a taxi to the same place? It makes sense to me. Anyways, after battling through numerous soliciting taxis I finally reached to ticket counter, and minutes later was sitting on the crowded bench waiting for the 11:15 bus to Jaco.
I slept most of the way to Jaco, and arrived around 2:00. Had I know, I would have got off the bus downtown. Instead I had to walk back into town, as the bus station is outside of town. It was a good walk down Jaco’s main street. I didn’t really know where I was going; just the name of a hostel (Beds on Bahia, suggested by Hayley and Cass) and instructions to looks for a green sign that read “Papas y Burgers.” Finally I spotted the vibrant sign down a side street, and went to check in. The hostel was small but homey, and I hadn’t been there 10 minutes before I met Mike and Jen (both working at the hostel). They were headed out to surf and invited me to tag along. Surfing is the main reason I went to Jaco, so why not? I tossed on my shorts, grab the biggest board (the bigger the easier) from the shop next door, and headed to the beach!
Surfing is hard! I love the water and like to think I’m quite athletic. I have good balance, and though I don’t pump weights I am by no means weak. But surfing is hard. It takes strength, stamina, courage, discipline, and more than anything it takes practice. The hardest part of surfing and most time consuming is learning to read the waves; to understand their patterns, sets, breaks, and channels. I spent most of my time attempting to paddle past the break, which with a 9 foot board is anything but easy. Without the ability to duck dive the larger waves as they break, I had adopted the oh-shit roll (hold on to your board at tight as you can and roll upside down). About 90 percent of the time this method works fairly well, the other 10 percent of the time I found myself washed ashore like an awkwardly white beached whale. The other unfortunate circumstance (which led to my demise as you will read later) was the waves were doubles, coming in short sets up two. I could easily roll the first wave, but was often unable to reposition myself before the next wave hit. The outcome: that 10 percent of the failed oh-shit rolls were happening about 90 percent of the time! But I was determined, and with some help from Mike I eventually found a channel and made it out. I was so tired I just lay on my board. I wanted to take a nap, but figured the ocean wasn’t the best place. After resting awhile I was ready to give it a go. It took me a while to get the timing right, but after numerous falls and gallons of saltwater later I finally caught a wave. Mike was yelling go, go, go, paddle, paddle (which I did, probably looking more like awkward turtle than a surfer). As the wave built I could feel its presence moving me and the board with great force. I grabbed the board and force myself up. It was amazing. I just stood there gliding atop the water as the wave raced me toward to shore. I couldn’t see my face, but I’m guessing it was quite similar to that of a six year old boy who just received his first six shooters and cowboy boots on Christmas morning. I rode that wave proudly all the way onto the beach, and was done for the day.
That night we all went out to a local club called, Le Loft, where they were having a special; buy a drink get free sushi, what a deal! We hung out at the club for a while before we headed back to the hostel. That night everybody at the hostel (Mike, Sergio, Jen, Brittany, Zack, Erin, Mary, and I) hung out in the hammocks listening to music and talking. Some choose to participate in slightly illegal activities, of which I did not partake. Overall, it was a fun and relaxing evening of storytelling.
The next day I met up with Nick and Todd (two old friends of my good friend Tess, who happen to be living in Jaco for a month to surf) We had tried to hook up the day before, but having no form of communicate besides Facebook made it a little difficult. We decided to meet at 1:00 in front of the KFC, yes the KFC; it was easy to find. They were fun guys and we got along well. For a while we just walked around Jaco; checking out the local surf shops, markets, and then stopped to get some delicious pizza at Big Ron’s (appropriately named) NY Pizza and Subs. Nick and Todd had rented a condo in this nice gated community, and it wasn’t long before I worked my way onto a free couch for a few days. Later we headed back into town to rent me another board (this time a little shorter, 7’6”) and then out to the beach because I just couldn’t wait to drink some more saltwater! Unfortunately, the conditions were less than ideal, and we didn’t stay long…we would try again in the morning.
We awoke early to the bluest sky I had seen since my arrival, grab a quick bite to eat, waxed our boards, and headed to the beach. I was feeling good, and knew that I was going to get up a lot today. A certain sea creature however had other plans for my day. The weather was fabulous, but again the waves were doubling. As before I was having a heck a time getting past the break, but I didn’t give up. I was so close, and then it happened. I was paddling out to take on a large double set and I successfully oh-shit rolled to first wave only to be manhandled by the second. As I was being tossed about like a rag doll under the water, I assumed the fetal position to which I had become quite accustomed. I waited until water calmed and then stood. I had only been standing for a fraction of a second when COW POW! I felt a sharp pain in the inner arch of my left foot, which sent me crippling into the oncoming surf. I grabbed my board and hobbled to shore. When I reached shallow water I lifted my foot only to see it covered in blood (with the saltwater inhibiting coagulation, it looked worse than it was). I limped up the beach a ways and sat to examine my wound. A deep small penetration, maybe a piece of glass I thought to myself? I tried my best to clean and wound and remove any visible fragments, but I needed to get to my medical supplies back in the apartment and Nick had the only Key. Unfortunately the rip tide had been quite strong that day, and Nick and Todd had been pulled way out of shouting distance. I thought the pain would subside, and decided to tough it out on the beach. I waited and waited. Soon the pain intensified, it also spread through my whole foot and up my ankle. Alright I thought, I is no piece of glass…it could have been only one thing…God damned stingray. But what could I do I had no key, and I wasn’t about to go hobbling down the beach (away from the apartment) to find Nick and Todd. Solution: Sit, wait, and get sun burned. I sat for about half an hour before the pain had gotten so bad I knew I had to do something. I grabbed my board and headed back to the apartment. At the gate, a quick flash of the bloody foot granted me entrance and I began to explain in poor Spanish that I needed to get into the room, but didn’t have a key. Eventually I found my way to the owner of the apartment, two Americans, who thank god were home. They were happy to open the apartment for me, and having had experience with stings before, gave me a few pointers; well just one…really hot water. Just as I had gotten into the apartment, I see Nick and Todd hustling home (apparently the guard told them I was bleeding, which I quite vague and they probably thought I was dying). I grabbed my grabbed my medkit and began to clean the wound. Using some alcohol and a needle, removed the remaining sand, grit, and stinger shards. I spent the next 3 hours hobbling between the microwave (repeatedly swapping bowls of hot water) and the porch (where I sat with my foot wrapped in a hot towel). The heat was an amazing remedy; as the warm water pulled the venom form my foot it decreased the pain tenfold. But even the few seconds between switching bowls was horrible. I do not recommend it.
Later that night, after the paint was bearable again, we decided to hike to an old abandoned Italian building overlooking the bay. By this point I had become quite sick of Jaco, though I had meet some nice people and enjoyed my two days for the most part, the city is quite dirty. Lots of trash, drugs (I was offered 6 times in one day to buy pot, and of course stingrays. But they assured me it was worth it, and so I dawned my sneakers and off we went. We shared a taxi out of town to the trail head, and started up the mountain. It had rained quite a bit the night before and the trail was washed out in some places. A little mud however, was not going to keep us from the view but it did attempt to steal of shoe. When we reached the top, we followed a small path which opened to a wonderful view of the city and beach. We sat and talked as we waited. As the sun set on the horizon, the sky turned a brilliant pink and then a deep purple. It wasn’t long before to sun disappeared beyond the oceans, but I enjoyed every minute of it.
have faith, be happy
Pictures!
I slept most of the way to Jaco, and arrived around 2:00. Had I know, I would have got off the bus downtown. Instead I had to walk back into town, as the bus station is outside of town. It was a good walk down Jaco’s main street. I didn’t really know where I was going; just the name of a hostel (Beds on Bahia, suggested by Hayley and Cass) and instructions to looks for a green sign that read “Papas y Burgers.” Finally I spotted the vibrant sign down a side street, and went to check in. The hostel was small but homey, and I hadn’t been there 10 minutes before I met Mike and Jen (both working at the hostel). They were headed out to surf and invited me to tag along. Surfing is the main reason I went to Jaco, so why not? I tossed on my shorts, grab the biggest board (the bigger the easier) from the shop next door, and headed to the beach!
Surfing is hard! I love the water and like to think I’m quite athletic. I have good balance, and though I don’t pump weights I am by no means weak. But surfing is hard. It takes strength, stamina, courage, discipline, and more than anything it takes practice. The hardest part of surfing and most time consuming is learning to read the waves; to understand their patterns, sets, breaks, and channels. I spent most of my time attempting to paddle past the break, which with a 9 foot board is anything but easy. Without the ability to duck dive the larger waves as they break, I had adopted the oh-shit roll (hold on to your board at tight as you can and roll upside down). About 90 percent of the time this method works fairly well, the other 10 percent of the time I found myself washed ashore like an awkwardly white beached whale. The other unfortunate circumstance (which led to my demise as you will read later) was the waves were doubles, coming in short sets up two. I could easily roll the first wave, but was often unable to reposition myself before the next wave hit. The outcome: that 10 percent of the failed oh-shit rolls were happening about 90 percent of the time! But I was determined, and with some help from Mike I eventually found a channel and made it out. I was so tired I just lay on my board. I wanted to take a nap, but figured the ocean wasn’t the best place. After resting awhile I was ready to give it a go. It took me a while to get the timing right, but after numerous falls and gallons of saltwater later I finally caught a wave. Mike was yelling go, go, go, paddle, paddle (which I did, probably looking more like awkward turtle than a surfer). As the wave built I could feel its presence moving me and the board with great force. I grabbed the board and force myself up. It was amazing. I just stood there gliding atop the water as the wave raced me toward to shore. I couldn’t see my face, but I’m guessing it was quite similar to that of a six year old boy who just received his first six shooters and cowboy boots on Christmas morning. I rode that wave proudly all the way onto the beach, and was done for the day.
That night we all went out to a local club called, Le Loft, where they were having a special; buy a drink get free sushi, what a deal! We hung out at the club for a while before we headed back to the hostel. That night everybody at the hostel (Mike, Sergio, Jen, Brittany, Zack, Erin, Mary, and I) hung out in the hammocks listening to music and talking. Some choose to participate in slightly illegal activities, of which I did not partake. Overall, it was a fun and relaxing evening of storytelling.
The next day I met up with Nick and Todd (two old friends of my good friend Tess, who happen to be living in Jaco for a month to surf) We had tried to hook up the day before, but having no form of communicate besides Facebook made it a little difficult. We decided to meet at 1:00 in front of the KFC, yes the KFC; it was easy to find. They were fun guys and we got along well. For a while we just walked around Jaco; checking out the local surf shops, markets, and then stopped to get some delicious pizza at Big Ron’s (appropriately named) NY Pizza and Subs. Nick and Todd had rented a condo in this nice gated community, and it wasn’t long before I worked my way onto a free couch for a few days. Later we headed back into town to rent me another board (this time a little shorter, 7’6”) and then out to the beach because I just couldn’t wait to drink some more saltwater! Unfortunately, the conditions were less than ideal, and we didn’t stay long…we would try again in the morning.
We awoke early to the bluest sky I had seen since my arrival, grab a quick bite to eat, waxed our boards, and headed to the beach. I was feeling good, and knew that I was going to get up a lot today. A certain sea creature however had other plans for my day. The weather was fabulous, but again the waves were doubling. As before I was having a heck a time getting past the break, but I didn’t give up. I was so close, and then it happened. I was paddling out to take on a large double set and I successfully oh-shit rolled to first wave only to be manhandled by the second. As I was being tossed about like a rag doll under the water, I assumed the fetal position to which I had become quite accustomed. I waited until water calmed and then stood. I had only been standing for a fraction of a second when COW POW! I felt a sharp pain in the inner arch of my left foot, which sent me crippling into the oncoming surf. I grabbed my board and hobbled to shore. When I reached shallow water I lifted my foot only to see it covered in blood (with the saltwater inhibiting coagulation, it looked worse than it was). I limped up the beach a ways and sat to examine my wound. A deep small penetration, maybe a piece of glass I thought to myself? I tried my best to clean and wound and remove any visible fragments, but I needed to get to my medical supplies back in the apartment and Nick had the only Key. Unfortunately the rip tide had been quite strong that day, and Nick and Todd had been pulled way out of shouting distance. I thought the pain would subside, and decided to tough it out on the beach. I waited and waited. Soon the pain intensified, it also spread through my whole foot and up my ankle. Alright I thought, I is no piece of glass…it could have been only one thing…God damned stingray. But what could I do I had no key, and I wasn’t about to go hobbling down the beach (away from the apartment) to find Nick and Todd. Solution: Sit, wait, and get sun burned. I sat for about half an hour before the pain had gotten so bad I knew I had to do something. I grabbed my board and headed back to the apartment. At the gate, a quick flash of the bloody foot granted me entrance and I began to explain in poor Spanish that I needed to get into the room, but didn’t have a key. Eventually I found my way to the owner of the apartment, two Americans, who thank god were home. They were happy to open the apartment for me, and having had experience with stings before, gave me a few pointers; well just one…really hot water. Just as I had gotten into the apartment, I see Nick and Todd hustling home (apparently the guard told them I was bleeding, which I quite vague and they probably thought I was dying). I grabbed my grabbed my medkit and began to clean the wound. Using some alcohol and a needle, removed the remaining sand, grit, and stinger shards. I spent the next 3 hours hobbling between the microwave (repeatedly swapping bowls of hot water) and the porch (where I sat with my foot wrapped in a hot towel). The heat was an amazing remedy; as the warm water pulled the venom form my foot it decreased the pain tenfold. But even the few seconds between switching bowls was horrible. I do not recommend it.
Later that night, after the paint was bearable again, we decided to hike to an old abandoned Italian building overlooking the bay. By this point I had become quite sick of Jaco, though I had meet some nice people and enjoyed my two days for the most part, the city is quite dirty. Lots of trash, drugs (I was offered 6 times in one day to buy pot, and of course stingrays. But they assured me it was worth it, and so I dawned my sneakers and off we went. We shared a taxi out of town to the trail head, and started up the mountain. It had rained quite a bit the night before and the trail was washed out in some places. A little mud however, was not going to keep us from the view but it did attempt to steal of shoe. When we reached the top, we followed a small path which opened to a wonderful view of the city and beach. We sat and talked as we waited. As the sun set on the horizon, the sky turned a brilliant pink and then a deep purple. It wasn’t long before to sun disappeared beyond the oceans, but I enjoyed every minute of it.
have faith, be happy
Pictures!
Monday, October 26, 2009
21 October, 2009| Whatever Blows Your Hole!
On Tuesday, October 20, Hayley, Cass, Braulio, and I left San Jose to meet up with Federico Grant (The walking discovery channel as he was described to me). Federico lives outside of Cartago in a small town called Birtisito, and so we left the hotel to find and catch a bus. We had a map…to the wrong bus station! We thought we needed to catch a bus to Cartago, when we actually needed the bus to Turillalba, duh! After walking around downtown aimlessly, we began to ask directions. Little to our knowledge it is a Costa Rican custom to never tell a foreigner you don’t know the answer to a questions, instead they just give you direction to where ever they feel like! YAY! After circling around the city again and again, we were running out of time. (Ding) the light comes on… why don’t we ask a cab driver? They also know where they are going. Sure enough, it was just around the corner and soon we had out tickets in hand, and were on our way to Birrisito.
After an hour and a half bus ride, we got off the bus at Birrisito. Federico was awaiting our arrival at Captain Morgan’s market on the main drag. We meet Morgan, a super nice older man, who was excited to show off his English skills…or lack thereof, but it was fun and endearing. At the market we picked up food for the next few days’ meals including, Spaghetti, Huevos Rancheros, Chicken Tacos, and more!
Next we drove a few minutes through the country past some dairy farms to Federico’s home, overlooking a beautiful rural Costa Rican valley. We spent the rest of the day relaxing around the house, playing cards (NERTS! It’s making a comeback, and Oh Hell), brushing up on our Foosball skills, lounging in hammocks, blasting all kinds of music, and soaking in the hot tub.
We awoke early Wednesday and the girls made us their signature chocolate chip banana pancakes…So good! We then hurried to get ready, and left for day in the country side with Federico as our guide. We started the tour at a scenic view area. It was actually closed, but Federico is quite persuasive and the presence of two cute girls didn’t seem to hurt. The view was great and the ants were plentiful. I did my best to avoid the ant piles, but eventually I got lost in the moment taking photos. I must have been standing on the fire ant pile for only a few seconds, but that’s all it took. I didn’t realize it until my foot and shin were covered and the biting had begun, and those quick tiny sons of blanks are very resilient. After I was done hopping around trying to rid my foot of the remaining ants, we moved ahead to the next stop.
Coffee is one of Costa Rica’s top cash crop exports, and we got to see and try it firsthand. Coffee plantations were everywhere in Cartago and the surrounding area, Federico even has a few plants on his property he sells to a local organic coffee maker (Café Christina). So, along the way we stop and tried on bean off the plant. You don’t really eat them (we found out the hard way), you just suck on them, and there is only a hint of coffee flavor. It isn’t until the beans are dried multiple times that the gourmet coffee flavor emerges.
Next, we stop in the small town of Orosi, and visited one of, if not the, oldest church still in use in Costa Rica. It was a simple building with great architecture and amazing hand carved wooden altar covered in with gold leaf. The church was cool, but across the road, was a soccer field! A few local kids were playing and it wasn’t long before we had a Costa Rica – USA match. We played for about an hour and had a great time. I of course got schooled by even the youngest of locals, but Hayley and Cass held their own and surprised everyone with their skills.
When we were all totally out of breath we decided to call it quits, and headed up the mountain. We pulled off the road near el Rio Macho, and followed Federico up a small trail. The trail wound through some small coffee plantations, along the river, and through some jungle until it open up to a small natural hot springs! I was so relaxing after our soccer match.
After the hot springs we ate lunch and a small local restaurant overlooking a river gorge. We ordered the mixed rice and beans plate (Marlin, Shrimp, and Chicken!)…So good!
The tour continued with a taste of fresh sock poured coffee and café flan at a nice restaurant in the valley and a walk around a small lagoon and though an oriental garden. On the way back to Federico's, we stopped at one last scenic observatory (that was again closed for renovations, but we somehow got in) A few last pictures of the valley and Lake Cachi and we were on our way.
P.S. At dinner one night we are discussing something, and I said “Whatever floats your boat,” you know like different strokes for different folks, and I guess Federico had never heard that, he thought it was pretty funny and replied laughing… “What did you say? Whatever blows your hole?” HAHAHA we all started laughing and it has become an ongoing joke!
Pictures!
After an hour and a half bus ride, we got off the bus at Birrisito. Federico was awaiting our arrival at Captain Morgan’s market on the main drag. We meet Morgan, a super nice older man, who was excited to show off his English skills…or lack thereof, but it was fun and endearing. At the market we picked up food for the next few days’ meals including, Spaghetti, Huevos Rancheros, Chicken Tacos, and more!
Next we drove a few minutes through the country past some dairy farms to Federico’s home, overlooking a beautiful rural Costa Rican valley. We spent the rest of the day relaxing around the house, playing cards (NERTS! It’s making a comeback, and Oh Hell), brushing up on our Foosball skills, lounging in hammocks, blasting all kinds of music, and soaking in the hot tub.
We awoke early Wednesday and the girls made us their signature chocolate chip banana pancakes…So good! We then hurried to get ready, and left for day in the country side with Federico as our guide. We started the tour at a scenic view area. It was actually closed, but Federico is quite persuasive and the presence of two cute girls didn’t seem to hurt. The view was great and the ants were plentiful. I did my best to avoid the ant piles, but eventually I got lost in the moment taking photos. I must have been standing on the fire ant pile for only a few seconds, but that’s all it took. I didn’t realize it until my foot and shin were covered and the biting had begun, and those quick tiny sons of blanks are very resilient. After I was done hopping around trying to rid my foot of the remaining ants, we moved ahead to the next stop.
Coffee is one of Costa Rica’s top cash crop exports, and we got to see and try it firsthand. Coffee plantations were everywhere in Cartago and the surrounding area, Federico even has a few plants on his property he sells to a local organic coffee maker (Café Christina). So, along the way we stop and tried on bean off the plant. You don’t really eat them (we found out the hard way), you just suck on them, and there is only a hint of coffee flavor. It isn’t until the beans are dried multiple times that the gourmet coffee flavor emerges.
Next, we stop in the small town of Orosi, and visited one of, if not the, oldest church still in use in Costa Rica. It was a simple building with great architecture and amazing hand carved wooden altar covered in with gold leaf. The church was cool, but across the road, was a soccer field! A few local kids were playing and it wasn’t long before we had a Costa Rica – USA match. We played for about an hour and had a great time. I of course got schooled by even the youngest of locals, but Hayley and Cass held their own and surprised everyone with their skills.
When we were all totally out of breath we decided to call it quits, and headed up the mountain. We pulled off the road near el Rio Macho, and followed Federico up a small trail. The trail wound through some small coffee plantations, along the river, and through some jungle until it open up to a small natural hot springs! I was so relaxing after our soccer match.
After the hot springs we ate lunch and a small local restaurant overlooking a river gorge. We ordered the mixed rice and beans plate (Marlin, Shrimp, and Chicken!)…So good!
The tour continued with a taste of fresh sock poured coffee and café flan at a nice restaurant in the valley and a walk around a small lagoon and though an oriental garden. On the way back to Federico's, we stopped at one last scenic observatory (that was again closed for renovations, but we somehow got in) A few last pictures of the valley and Lake Cachi and we were on our way.
P.S. At dinner one night we are discussing something, and I said “Whatever floats your boat,” you know like different strokes for different folks, and I guess Federico had never heard that, he thought it was pretty funny and replied laughing… “What did you say? Whatever blows your hole?” HAHAHA we all started laughing and it has become an ongoing joke!
Pictures!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
19 October, 2009| You Don’t Need Your Luggage to Have a Good Time
I arrived in San Jose on time with the sun beaming at 12:20 pm, and proceeded to customs where I met the passengers from the other four planes that also decided 12:20 was a good time to land. Fortunately the stampede of foreigners seemed to make the process easier, as the customs agents rushed us through as fast as possible. It went kind of like this:
Custom’s Agent: “Hola, welcome to Costa Rica, how long will you be staying?”
Exchange of documents…
Me: “About two weeks until crossing the border to Nicaragua. Then returning sometime in December and I fly out of San Jose the 17th.”
STAMP
Custom’s Agent: “Gracias”
Me: “Hey wait, don’t you need these [declarations and heath forms]”
Custom’s Agent: “No, Next (Ding)”
Okay then…so Pure Vida (Costa Rican Motto) means… Live Pure and… bring whatever you want into the country we don’t care!
Anyways, onto baggage claim where I find out it actually means bring whatever you want into the country… except you… your bags aren’t allowed; we’ll leave them in Atlanta!!!
To make matters even better “wink” the sun was chased away by a torrential downpour, and the shuttle that was supposed to be waiting to take me to my hotel was nowhere to be found. As I searched luggage-less for the shuttle I was hounded by many a friend taxi drivers who each promised me the cheapest rate (thinking back now, it seems that I probably could have gotten a taxi for free, I just needed to start an auction… “I need a taxi to Hotel Pangea, going to the lowest bidder!”... “Treinta…” “Veinte…” minutes later… “Sold to Victor for, yup, for free.”) I quickly realized the shuttle was a no go and got a good deal (not free, but good) from Victor who confidently proceeded to scare the shit out of me as we weaved in and out of speeding traffic through the pouring rain with the windows completely fogged over (defrost out of service?)
As we made over way about 10 miles to downtown San Jose, the sun began to shine rays of hope through the broken clouds above. “Were here,” Said Victor, as we pulled up to a steel orange door amidst tall cement walls and razor wire. I must have looked puzzled, for Victor quickly assured me this was the right place and I would have a great stay. I paid Victor and kindly thanked him for the ride and conversation. As I hesitantly approached the threatening facade, the door swung open, and I was kindly greeted and welcome inside. As I checked in, I heard a familiar voice call out my name. I turned to see Hayley smiling, and happily received a much needed hug. We spent the rest of the day exploring San Jose (where we found it is quite difficult to accomplish much of anything at a bank), picking up the necessities to get by until my luggage arrived, relaxing at the hostel, catching up, and reminiscing of old times.
Before bed, I took full advantage of the Hostel free WI-FI to quickly chat with friends and family, and read the comments and messages left for me (which by the way are awesome and you should write more).
Yes, I know my first day didn’t go as planned, but I found that you don’t need your luggage to have a good time.
have faith, be happy
Custom’s Agent: “Hola, welcome to Costa Rica, how long will you be staying?”
Exchange of documents…
Me: “About two weeks until crossing the border to Nicaragua. Then returning sometime in December and I fly out of San Jose the 17th.”
STAMP
Custom’s Agent: “Gracias”
Me: “Hey wait, don’t you need these [declarations and heath forms]”
Custom’s Agent: “No, Next (Ding)”
Okay then…so Pure Vida (Costa Rican Motto) means… Live Pure and… bring whatever you want into the country we don’t care!
Anyways, onto baggage claim where I find out it actually means bring whatever you want into the country… except you… your bags aren’t allowed; we’ll leave them in Atlanta!!!
To make matters even better “wink” the sun was chased away by a torrential downpour, and the shuttle that was supposed to be waiting to take me to my hotel was nowhere to be found. As I searched luggage-less for the shuttle I was hounded by many a friend taxi drivers who each promised me the cheapest rate (thinking back now, it seems that I probably could have gotten a taxi for free, I just needed to start an auction… “I need a taxi to Hotel Pangea, going to the lowest bidder!”... “Treinta…” “Veinte…” minutes later… “Sold to Victor for, yup, for free.”) I quickly realized the shuttle was a no go and got a good deal (not free, but good) from Victor who confidently proceeded to scare the shit out of me as we weaved in and out of speeding traffic through the pouring rain with the windows completely fogged over (defrost out of service?)
As we made over way about 10 miles to downtown San Jose, the sun began to shine rays of hope through the broken clouds above. “Were here,” Said Victor, as we pulled up to a steel orange door amidst tall cement walls and razor wire. I must have looked puzzled, for Victor quickly assured me this was the right place and I would have a great stay. I paid Victor and kindly thanked him for the ride and conversation. As I hesitantly approached the threatening facade, the door swung open, and I was kindly greeted and welcome inside. As I checked in, I heard a familiar voice call out my name. I turned to see Hayley smiling, and happily received a much needed hug. We spent the rest of the day exploring San Jose (where we found it is quite difficult to accomplish much of anything at a bank), picking up the necessities to get by until my luggage arrived, relaxing at the hostel, catching up, and reminiscing of old times.
Before bed, I took full advantage of the Hostel free WI-FI to quickly chat with friends and family, and read the comments and messages left for me (which by the way are awesome and you should write more).
Yes, I know my first day didn’t go as planned, but I found that you don’t need your luggage to have a good time.
have faith, be happy
Monday, October 19, 2009
October 18, 2009| Gate 2: Adventure Lies Ahead
As I fly from Seattle to Atlanta, my journey has begun and I bring you my thoughts. My mind races, my pulse rises, I’m excited but incredibly scared. I left home sweet home, dearest friends and loving family, only hours ago. Incredibly stressed, I packed all day; rushing from store to store making sure every item on my unorganized list had been accounted for. As I sat in the in the back seat of the car on the way to the airport, I was able to take a breath and relax, but only for a minute before panic set in. I didn’t have a watch, my guide book, the name of the hostel where I booked my first night, or to be honest any clue of what I was/am about to do. A few phone calls to dear friends and texts from others took off the edge. It was like every airport visit before, but like none at the same time. I did my best to hide my fear and anxiety; which I pulled off quite well until it was time to say goodbye. There was only airport security between me and my adventure, and as I sought a few more seconds of home, I wished for the first time that I had been randomly selected for an intensive search. I put my shoes back on, waved goodbye, and crossed the threshold; Gate 2, adventure lies ahead.
Though these thoughts are quite sad, you must know that I am quite looking forward to my adventure. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers.
As I reflect on the days past and those soon to come, I would like to thank…
Mom- for whom without I would not have been ready to leave on time. Today alone, she accompanied me around town reassuring my every purchased, hand crafted a laptop sleeve and camera case from an old wet suit, checked and double checked my lists, gear, and itinerary. She was always there when I had a question or needed a favor. Thanks for keeping it together, when I couldn’t.
Dad- for your encouragement and love. For driving all around town at the last minute looking for the watch I forgot to get, and when it was nowhere to be found for giving me the watch from your wrist as we met at the airport. For always making it known that if ever I need anything you are there.
Glen- for your inspiration, knowledge, and friendship.
Friends- for late night video games, short and long talks, fun/encouraging phone calls, never ending texts, and cherished skypes.
Family- for your never-ending love and support.
As tears (happy and sad, excited and afraid) dance down my face, I will miss you all. Keep in touch.
have faith, be happy
Though these thoughts are quite sad, you must know that I am quite looking forward to my adventure. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers.
As I reflect on the days past and those soon to come, I would like to thank…
Mom- for whom without I would not have been ready to leave on time. Today alone, she accompanied me around town reassuring my every purchased, hand crafted a laptop sleeve and camera case from an old wet suit, checked and double checked my lists, gear, and itinerary. She was always there when I had a question or needed a favor. Thanks for keeping it together, when I couldn’t.
Dad- for your encouragement and love. For driving all around town at the last minute looking for the watch I forgot to get, and when it was nowhere to be found for giving me the watch from your wrist as we met at the airport. For always making it known that if ever I need anything you are there.
Glen- for your inspiration, knowledge, and friendship.
Friends- for late night video games, short and long talks, fun/encouraging phone calls, never ending texts, and cherished skypes.
Family- for your never-ending love and support.
As tears (happy and sad, excited and afraid) dance down my face, I will miss you all. Keep in touch.
have faith, be happy
October 18, 2009| The Plan
For those who don’t know, here is my plan:
I left today for San Jose, Costa Rica. I will arrive mid-afternoon on the 19th and will meet up with an old friend (Hayley McCoy, who has been volunteering at a marine conservation project for sea turtles in Costa Rica for the summer). I will explore San Jose and the surrounding area with her for a few days, while I pick here brain for suggestions on where to go, what and to see and do, and the things I should avoid. I then have 12 days to get Nicaragua, where I will be working at Crater’s Edge (A backpacker’s hostel and day resort the shores of La Laguna De Apoyo, owned and operated one of Glen’s long time friends Ann Thorne) I don’t know exactly what I will be doing other than helping run the place, but will be sure to let you know soon enough. I will work through November, and then have 17 days in December to explore Nicaragua and Costa Rica as I work my way back to San Jose to fly home. I hope to hike volcanoes, make new friends, learn to surf, think about my life, and most of all come home safe and full of stories.
I will attempt to post updates and upload pictures every now and then, but make no promises. If you haven’t heard anything feel free to contact my mom for she will probably know the most about my status (I promised to e-mail every couple of days if possible even if just to say “Hey mom, I’m still alive.”
I will be on Skype for time to time, so sign up and check in, and feel free to e-mail me (hewy313@gmail.com) or even better post comments on this blog so others can enjoy your thoughts.
Please, send this blog to anyone you think might want to know :)
Wish me the best!
have faith, be happy
I left today for San Jose, Costa Rica. I will arrive mid-afternoon on the 19th and will meet up with an old friend (Hayley McCoy, who has been volunteering at a marine conservation project for sea turtles in Costa Rica for the summer). I will explore San Jose and the surrounding area with her for a few days, while I pick here brain for suggestions on where to go, what and to see and do, and the things I should avoid. I then have 12 days to get Nicaragua, where I will be working at Crater’s Edge (A backpacker’s hostel and day resort the shores of La Laguna De Apoyo, owned and operated one of Glen’s long time friends Ann Thorne) I don’t know exactly what I will be doing other than helping run the place, but will be sure to let you know soon enough. I will work through November, and then have 17 days in December to explore Nicaragua and Costa Rica as I work my way back to San Jose to fly home. I hope to hike volcanoes, make new friends, learn to surf, think about my life, and most of all come home safe and full of stories.
I will attempt to post updates and upload pictures every now and then, but make no promises. If you haven’t heard anything feel free to contact my mom for she will probably know the most about my status (I promised to e-mail every couple of days if possible even if just to say “Hey mom, I’m still alive.”
I will be on Skype for time to time, so sign up and check in, and feel free to e-mail me (hewy313@gmail.com) or even better post comments on this blog so others can enjoy your thoughts.
Please, send this blog to anyone you think might want to know :)
Wish me the best!
have faith, be happy
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