Monteverde

Early on Saturday, the next morning, I meet the other people on the tour to Monteverde, to participate in the eXtreme Canopy Tour of the cloud forest there. They're French, from a University (I think Toulouse University) which has sent them to Costa Rica for a month to study agriculture. There are two guys and three girls, all of them 23 years old. I ask them how they feel about doing this tour and one of them, Virginie, claims to be afraid of heights but wants to do something to combat this fear. I wholeheartedly agree, and tell her that my inkling is completely spontaneous. I mean, would I have planned this a month ago??

The ride to Monteverde from Fortuna takes approximately 3 hours and we're traveling in another one of those "shuttle" buses. On our way around Lak Arenal, we encounter howler monkeys and the guide stops so that we can photograph them. There are wonderful views of this biggest lake in Costa Rica and as we climb northeast, the countryside differs and many of the hills sport coffee plantations. We stop for a break in one of the towns around; it's not Santa Elena, I think. I get a coffee and spill most of it on my t-shirt because the drive is pretty bumpy. Most of us are relaxed. Virginie and Chlorissa seem to be a little disturbed...

We arrive and check in, and they all choose the "Superman" stunt, meaning that when they come down on the last cable run, they'll have their arms spread and their feet behind them, instead of hanging on to the harness and cable with feet crossed in front. Ok. We get a quick run through of how to brake, stop, and travel and we start the climb to the first cable. It's not terribly far away and I learn that I must not brake too soon. The next run is done with two people and is easy. After every run you have to climb more and more steps to get to the ensuing cable. I find myself huffing and puffing yet able to take the next two runs, but on the subsequent run, I realize I have climbed over 300 steps and am, consequently, t-i-r-e-d. So, I said to the guide, "I don't know..." and he said, "If you want to stop, now is the time to do it, because the path to the Lodge is the shortest here..." "Fine. Yeah, I think I've done as much as I can..." So the guide lowers a rope that is hanging over a branch in one of the trees, saying that we can go "this" way. The only problem is that the rope has a noose tied in the end of it!!

After I get out of the gear, I wander over to the Restaurant and look for something to drink and am surprised to see a beer in the fridge, so I, of course, get one. I notice that the driver of our van is asleep in the vehicle. It's only a few minutes more and I hear the first of the rest of the clan starting to come in... I rush over and get a couple of pictures and congratulate them. They are all starry-eyed! I explain that I gave out around the half-way mark, but I can't explain what it felt like soaring over the tops of the trees way below... at least a thousand feet!!

Standing in the reception area, the person at the desk who could not speak English, passed by me and muttered, "Chicken!"

Vulcan Arenal

When I return to Gringo Pete's Too, I meet the owner whose name is Carlos. He offers me another room, if I'd like, because my room is on the street. I accept! Then he tells me that there is a tour leaving at 3:00 for a hike in the Arenal forest and then, when dark, a chance to view the lava coming out of the volcano... and, after that, we would go to Baldi hot springs for luxurious hot pool soakings and dinner. Since I've saved so much on the price of the room, I agree to pay the sum for the tour and, indeed, pay the price of a tour for the next day to Monteverde...

We leave in an hour. The Eagle tour bus picks me up at the hostel and I join a French couple from Paris who are young, of course, and we travel up the road to the Arenal forest and hike a good distance up into the cloud forest. Our guide, who is probably in his thirties, and quite convivial, points out cutter ants, monkeys and different species of plants and talks a good deal about the cloud forest. As the altitude rises, we see a thicker, and more plush growth of vegetation until we are rather high up before beginning the descent back to the entrance of the park, where we wait for four others to join us in watching the volcano down in a place by the river...

The place to watch the volcano is covered with people and I find a rock on which to wait while the dusk turns to night. We must be there for a half-hour when a gray-haired lady comes over to me and says, "Are those Keen shoes? I sell those shoes at LL Bean's..." "Yes," I reply, "they are!" In the ensuing conversation, I discover that she's staying with a friend outside of San Jose and needed to to get out to see a little bit of Costa Rica. I explain to her that I'm up in the north to see the volcano and Monteverde, where I'm going tomorrow. When it is totally dark, we are only rewarded with a streak of lava on the outside of the volcano for a moment and then the fog encompasses the entire top...I don't think my picture-taking was very fruitful and I go to look for the rest of my group.

Since Vulcan Arenal is the only real attraction in this town, there is a large traffic jam trying to get back to the main road. However, our trusty drivers sneak their way in and out of the traffic and drop us off at "Baldi" hot springs. Now, I don't know if these are "true" hot springs, but the place looks expensive and touristy. So I change into my bathing suit and tried the 104 degree jacuzzi with waterfall and it feels marvelous! I think they may have two more pools with water up to 117 degrees, and a number of others but this one feels the best.

After an hour, I meet up with the Chilean-German couple to whom I have offered the use of the locker I rented to stow their valuables (and mine) and we go off to have dinner. Carlos, a recording engineer, aged 28 and his girlfriend, Katrina (whose occupation I can't recollect) are great company and our talk revolves around the globalization of the universe -- people of different nationalities combining and the conglomoration of ideas. I have to express my zeal for Obama's State of the Union Address, with his emphasis on education, energy, the environment and health care.

I get back to the hostel and it's pouring buckets of water!!!

Continued from last week...

  Thursday, a little later…

The last leg of this air trip finds me starting to feel slightly cranky because I’ve been up longer than 24 hours. Once again, the plane is crowded with only a handful of seats empty and fortunately, one of these is the middle seat between myself, at the window, and the woman sitting in the aisle seat. I notice that she is transferring information from a calendar to a journal and ask if this involves her work. She informs me that this is the record of raising her kids year-to-year and she processes the memories into a hard-cover journal so that she can recollect, relate and reconstitute them whenever. Her kids are now 20, 21, and 22. I can’t imagine having that much information and that many books (one for each year?) to record all the negatives and positives in my life and in the life of my kids; there’s a lot of water that’s gone under that bridge that I’d like not to replace with any deficient memories.

I lose my glasses on the plane! I honestly cannot locate them and am glad I brought two pairs.

We land in San Jose, go through customs (middle of the afternoon rush) and I go to the tourism desk for a map and to the taxi window to get a cab. The driver is very charming and he keeps calling on his cell phone to “Sandra” and asking her if she’ll be ready at siepte, hocho, nueve? I ask him if it’s his girlfriend. He says yes. He also calls a hotel where he thinks I’ll be better situated than at the Casino Morazon. Heck, I say, I’m so tired, OK. It’s nice and its quiet and I fall asleep but not until I notice a slight smell of cheese? Or is it old socks?? (Isn’t this what my son said about the first hostel he stayed in? “It smelled like old feet!”)

After I sleep for a couple of hours, I’m hungry and I leave the hotel to look for something to eat along the Public Mercado. Believe it or not, every fast food chain from Burger King to Wendy’s is available here and there are even Costa Rican knock-offs that sell fried foods on numbered menus. And the pizza and Italian food doesn’t seem to be an option because of its appearance. So, I settle for a few cold things from a Supermarcado. On this short excursion into the main section of San Jose, I count five beggars and see a blonde prostitute in a short, blue-sequined dress, followed by her black pimp.

In the morning, I’ll be catching the bus to Fortuna.  

 

Friday

Buses are inexpensive in Costa Rica. The bus to Fortuna is supposed to leave at 6:15 a.m. but doesn’t actually arrive at the station until 6:45. It heads for the outskirts of town over and around winding blocks of metal-roofed shanty-type shacks cornered by cement casas with iron-gated driveways until we reach the freeway bound for the north. The driver of the autobus races down the triple-lane freeway and we’re fortunate not to be coming in the other direction because it is rush hour and backed-up because of a two-car accident. Several moments later we’re taking a four-lane highway, which becomes a divided two-lane road.    

As the bus climbs up the grades, I notice that there are banana trees, fields of sugar cane, coconut palms, agaves and avocado trees growing on this narrow plateau lined with verdant, lush vegetation and the valleys reach deeply on either side. While the altitude is increasing, we ride through bits of rain and drizzle and can see the Vulcan Arenal in the distance.

Fernando is a Mexican pilot who I met downstairs in the Hotel Inca Real this morning at 5:30. When I ask him where he’s going, he mentions Arenal. Because I am going there, too, I asked if he’d like to share a taxi and he agreed. The bus to Fortuna will take 3 1/2 hours and appears to be a local because it stops and picks people up along the road almost every five minutes, it seems. By the time we reach San Carlos, everyone disembarks, and those headed for Fortuna board another bus.

When we arrive, there are, perhaps, 12 to 15 people trying to hawk places to stay, mainly lower-costing hotels. I walk to Gringo Pete’s, a hostel just around the corner and pay the money for two nights at the ridiculous price of $12 per night and it’s a double room with a bathroom and it’s super clean. Since I had hardly eaten for twenty-four hours, I went out and found a soda where I had Arroz con pollo and then I looked for a towel, having forgotten to bring one…  

Hello from Houston

It's now 6:33 Houston time and I've been off the plane from San Francisco for about a half-hour. We boarded the plane at 11:20 p.m., left at 11:59 p.m. and arrived here and advanced the clocks because of the time difference. The plane was absolutely full and two ladies sat in my row, I on the aisle. One of them was maybe my age, from Redding and going to Honduras alone. The other was from San Francisco traveling to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. As soon as the plane took off, both of them fell asleep and their heads bobbed up and down in unison. Neither of them snored, thank god. Why can't I fall asleep in a moving vehicle? I remember once when my ex was driving and he almost went off the road into a ditch in Sebastopol... And, last night when Seamus was driving me to the airport, he missed the exit from 101 to the airport. "I swear to god, Mom. I've driven this road hundreds of times!"

I need to go get a cup of coffee and something to eat... Maybe I'll catch a catnap during the 2 1/2 hour trip to San Jose...

Tico Tico

You may well be aware that Costa Ricans, who are male, are called "Ticos." However, being from a rather musical family whose tastes ranged from classical to flamenco, I didn't know that fact until my son traveled to Costa Rica three years ago, and mentioned in one of his blogs that he was talking to a "Tico" outside one of the mercados. The song "Tico Tico" immediately popped into my head, and, thus, has become the title of this blog which will recount my travels in the country of Costa Rica... If you look on YouTube, you'll see several Tico Tico's - from Carmen Miranda to Paco de Lucia - to a Brazilian Group's version all playing the same song. So, entrada!