Orosi Valley Day Trips: September and October 2007

While Amy and I were stationed in Orosi for our first month of Spanish classes, we took a number of notable day trips around the valley. I wanted to make this post just to give a quick mention to some exceptional excursions and to put up some extra pictures.

Here we go.... One of Amy and I's most common uses of our free time is taking walks. One great hike we took was entitled “The Yellow Church” by a printout of instructions we found in the hostel. According to our sources it was a full day excursion, taking upwards of 5 hours, which we found hard to believe as we could see the yellow church situated on one of the steep hillsides of the valley. There was a dirt road that traveled straight up towards it, and could be seen from the from just about anywhere in the valley. At night, this road was the only one lit on the hillside, creating what looked like a vertical landing strip. One Saturday we decided it was time to head up there and we grabbed our bags, and our tour-guide-dog Guapo. First we had to cross the river on the blue foot bridge over the swiftly running river.





Next we hiked along a paved road with the roaring coffee-colored river on one side, and coffee plantations on the other. After getting a bit lost due to poor directions we started up the hill. It was just as steep as it looked, and soon we were breathing heavy, as was Guapo. The view of the valley was quite fantastic and worth the workout!




After about an hour we arrived at the yellow church, and upon closer inspection we discovered that the directions we had been given took us far past this site, so we continued on. We reached the ridge, which was covered in thick vegetation, coffee plantations, and a few nice little cottages.







After this we dropped back down to the river and returned to our hostel as the daily 4:00PM rain started.



Another wonderful excursion was to a coffee factory in town. We walked to the “fabrica” with our teachers from the school, and got to take a short tour. It was one of our first tours in Spanish, and it was very nice because we were able to understand a lot and do a bit of translating for a few other new arrivals that went with us. The purpose of this factory was two fold: 1) to shell, dry, and bag coffee brought in from the local plantations and 2) to separate the good beans from the bad. The guide told us that pretty much everybody had at least a few coffee plants in their backyard in Orosi, so beans were bought in from everywhere and in every quantity. My Spanish teacher, Margorie, told me that most kids in Orosi help pick at least a little coffee every year. She said that she never liked doing it because she was always too scared. I asked her why, and she told me of three hazards involved in collecting coffee: 1) It is believed that the best coffee grows on the steepest hillsides. (At one point during the trip we saw groups of workers literally hanging on to coffee plants as they picked them) 2) There is a certain kind of caterpillar that lives in the fields, that has a very strong poison. (Note that it is not really dangerous, it just causes temporary numbness around the bite, which although painful and making working very difficult has no permanent effects. She also said that some people believed that if you found the one that bit you, killing it and burying would make the pain go away. Bite me once shame on you, but me twice and I must be an idiot going to look for you again!) and 3) Lethally poisonous snakes. That last one caught my attention so I asked her to elaborate. Apparently there is a certain kind of green snake that lives in the coffee plants, and that has a very powerful venom. In the past, injuries and even deaths from them were apparently quite common. Fortunately now most of the workers use gloves that provide adequate protection. “Most?”, I asked. She said that there were still some people, like her father, who did not use gloves because it was harsher on the plant and made it more difficulty to select only the ripe beans.



As the tour continued I started to notice that there were as many machines that prepared the beans, as there were that separated the good from the bad. This surprised me for two reasons: 1) if they went to all this work to extract only the best beans, why was 90% of the coffee we had drank in this country terrible and 2) why would you go to all that effort to separate them? Both questions were answered with the same response: exportation. Nearly all of the first grade coffee was exported, leaving the locals to consume the bad coffee. Our tour guide explained that if the good coffee was sold locally it would not pay for the effort gone to separate the good beans out. In addition we were told that Ticans much prefer weak coffee and light roasts to strong coffee, making the coffee worse in our opinion, but making me feel better about the fact that babies drink it. The tour ended in a very cool coffee vault that we were literally permitted to dive into, as it was several meters deep in dried coffee beans. Don't worry this was no health code violation as the beans were going to be shipped out and cooked before selling, and since I had remembered to put on clean socks that day, or was I wearing sandals......



The last Orosi adventure I want to talk about is a great day we had to the volcano Irazu. We had met a family of Amercians that were taking classes at our school and they asked us if we would be interested in doing a tour with them. Of course we said yes, and made arrangements with Luis, the driver who brought us from the airport, to take us to Irazu and to some ruins in nearby city Cachi. We planned to meet early in the morning an the church in the center of town. Morning was apparently the only good time too see the volcano, is it was the only time in which it was not covered in clouds. So that morning Amy and I awoke late, and ran to the church.



Fortunately, due to what the owner of our school called “tico time” Luis was even later. We all climbed into the his jeep, and were off! It was really good opportunity for us to practice our Spanish, and as Luis was awesome at communicating with gringos we did a lot of it. First he took us to the look-out over Orosi Valley, which was quite stunning as the early day allowed a rare unobstructed view of the city.




Next we took a long winding road up towards the volcano. It was really interesting to me, coming from most if my high elevation experience being from the steep Sierras in California, to see such a slow grade that eventually added up to over 10,000 feet. Not only that but where-as in the Sierras the land becomes barren around 10,000 feet, this land was still bountiful with life. We past many farms on the way which seemed a bit close to the volcano, and Luis informed is that it was some what risky since, although Irazu had not been showing activity in the last 30 years, it was not impossible for it to spontaneously erupt. Apparently the water in the crater had started to rise drastically in the past few weeks, which experts thought could be an indication of on up-coming eruption. The risk was thought to be worth as he informed us that it was some of the most fertile soil in the world. To elaborate he told us that, like coffee, much of the produce was exported as well. He said that many farmers are trying to conform to “organic” food standards, so as to export the food at a higher price. Again international commerce was forcing them to send all the good stuff away. Its sad to see a country which has so many amazing things, that only the rest of the world seems to have the opportunity to enjoy.
Soon we reached the entrance to the national park, and after paying our $7 entrance fee we headed up to the rim of the volcano. We passed a large cluster of very cool plants that were very common in Costa Rica. These plants have leaves that are about 5 feet in diameter which the locals refer to as “poor man's umbrellas”.



After passing this we reached the main crater. It was filled with murky green water surrounded by steep multi-colored walls and tipped off with heavy vegetation at the rim. Only about half an hour after we showed up, the bowl started to fill with clouds. Perfect timing!!






Next we walked around the area, as Amy started to regret weary sandals (oww, hot hot, oww....) as we walked over the original, now dead, crater.




After that we headed back to the jeep, where we had lunch and enjoyed the company of some local wildlife.



Next we headed for the ruins in Cachi. Apparently there was on old church there that had once been a very important religious place, which had been fought over for years until eventually it was abandoned after a sever earthquake damaged the structure.




Before heading home Luis took as to the “Dreamer's House”, which is a beautiful cabin, covered in carvings made by an artist.



Inside the house he had many wonderful carvings as well, made from coffee wood. After admiring his work together, we headed back to the jeep where Luis opened up a cooler full of some of the best fruit I have ever had in my life. Pineapple, guava, guayaba, and banana, all grown on the slopes of the Volcano Irazu.

Cahuita: October 2007

I said no salt on my Margarita!!!



What could possibly be more symbolic of relaxation and beauty than a Caribbean beach? Well after spending a month teaching English and learning Spanish Amy and I decided that it was time for a bit of R&R. Since we had been in Cost Rica our Tican buddy Adrian had talked about renting a mini-bus to go to the Caribbean beaches in the south of CR. As we were getting ready to leave, we mentioned to him that we were planning to head out to the beach and he said he would set it up, suggesting the beach town Puerto Viejo (he told me that it was a shame that I was already married, because it is apparently very easy for gringo men to find nice Tican women to hang out with in the Caribbean as they are more liberal than in Orosi). Well by this time we had come to realize that Adrian was a great talker, but that's about all he was capable of, so we made our own plans. We meet a Swedish girl who was heading that way, destine for a smaller town called Cahuita. Our default plan was to go with her and spend a few days there. The night before we intended to leaving we went out with a bunch of people, and met up with Adrian at Nido, our favorite bar. Well he told us that him and his American buddy from Montana were planning to head out in the morning as well to Puerto Viejo, only a few miles from Cahuita. They said they were planning on catching the early morning bus, leaving from Orosi at about 4:00AM. Sure you are Adrian, so what happened to that mini-bus?? This also seemed a especially unlikely considering it was almost 2:00AM. At any rate, we smiled and nodded and said sure we'll see you in the bus in the morning...
So we packed up our things, and said goodbye to our Tican family running to catch the 6:00AM bus. Don't get me wrong, Amy and I are such good travelers that we always leave enough time to get everywhere, we just find it hard to get a chance to exercise so we run everywhere. At any rate, we made it to the bus stop, met up with our Swedish friend and got on the bus. After making a bus transfer in Cartago, we made it to the Capital San Jose from which our bus to the Caribbean would be leaving. Now just for those of you who don't know, San Jose is not a place you want to be if .... well ever really. Its dangerous, dirty, and it seems to enjoy consuming tourist seeing as they don't ever feel its necessary to post street signs, making maps utterly useless. The only proper means of navigation is the sun, unfortunately it rains almost daily and is always cloudy. We gave map navigation a try by guessing where we were, and then counting streets. After much debate over which way was north, and wandering for thirty minutes or so we finally decided that we were lost and running out of time so we found a taxi. The first one we hailed attempted to give us directions, which we did not understand, and then drove off without us. The second driver simply pointed at the corner of the street and also left us standing on the curb. We were really confused at this point as to why no taxis wanted our money, when in the past we had had to fight off taxi drivers with mace. One more try... the third driver also tried to give is directions, but when we argued he agreed to drive us, laughing. Soon we discovered why as he ended up driving us about four blocks, two of which were only to get around one-way streets. We tried to explain to him that we like to support the local economy, and our bags were REALLY heavy, oh oh and those we really long blocks, and uphill and I have this condition.... I'm a stupid Amercian.
The bus would be heading out in an hour or so, and as such we bought our tickets and waited. Amy and I grabbed some coffee and breakfast as our Swedish companion ( some may think that I am intentional avoiding saying her name because I have forgotten it, where as in truth I simply don't have accent marks to correctly write it, stupid umlaut) headed to the internet. As we were sitting in the bus station, waiting for our bus I felt something press into my back as I heard a voice say in a heavy Tican accent, “Give my your money, gringo!”. By the expression on Amy's face she either thought there was something funny about me getting mugged, or I was being mugged by a clown. Turned out to be the second as I turned to see Adrian standing behind me with his buddy from Montana (there's an umlaut in his name too, I swear...). Adrian was dressed rather oddly, wearing camo shorts, a Jim Morrison shirt, a fishing hat with a Marijuana leaf printed on it, and a beat up old pair of boots. They had bought tickets to Puerto Viejo on the same bus that we had tickets to Cahuita. We told them that we had already bought tickets to Cahuita since we had not seen them in the morning, and Adrian told us not to worry that we could pay the bus driver a bit more and get off in Puerto Viejo. (Thank goodness!!) Dilemma. Now we had to choose which city to stop at, so we asked them what there plans were. Adrian's friend responded “I'm gonna get FUUUUCKED up!” smiling. Adrian informed us that he wanted to “make with a girl in the room”. At this point we understood the uniform, Adrian was planning to play gringo. At this point we heard the all to familiar sound of a hammer hitting a nail into a coffin, and we knew that we were likely headed for Cahuita. We told Adrian that we would decide where to get off when we got there, I mean we wouldn't want to abandon poor Umlaut!
About ten minutes before the bus was supposed to leave we headed over to the platform and noticed two things. Number one: there were WAY too many people waiting for our bus, and number two Umlaut was nowhere to be found. Half an hour later, the bus started to board, and we started to file on. Umlaut spontaneously appeared running with her luggage, and informed us that she had been on-line and lost track of time. Apparently she left a significant other in Sweden. So we boarded the bus, which was little more than a nice school bus, and all the seats filled. We noticed that Adrian and his friend had not boarded yet. Then more people started board the bus, filling into the aisle. Now normally I wouldn't be surprised at this, but it was going to be a 6 hour bus ride and I couldn't imagine how pissed I would be if I had to stand after buying a ticket. Adrian and his friend crammed on, and he informed us that after all the seats are taken they start to sell standing room. Now I was even more confused, knowing that all of these people had volunteered to do it! Finally everyone was on board and we headed out. Soon we escaped the boundaries of the city, and made our way onto a freeway, which was sort of a misnomer since no one was moving, at all. After almost an hour of baking in the sun, we slowly started to move and made our way up into the hills. Our bus made the noise of what I can only describe as a dying elephant, as we started to climb out of the valley. We climbed, and climbed, and climbed, as the bus made successively more painful noises. The road began to narrow, and we entered into dense cloud forest. By dense, I mean like President Bush dense. We traversed steep mountainsides covered in trees that were 70 feet tall and up. On these trees grew other plants, vines, ferns, everything vibrant green. The ground was covered in smaller trees, bushes, and plants. Even the occasional power line had plans growing out of it! When looking out into what I will now call the jungle, you cannot see a square centimeter of earth, everything is covered in green. The bus climbed well over 10,000 feet as we passed over impossibly steep terrain, and terrifying curves. Every time the bus changed gears it sounded like a small car accident had happened under our feet. It started to rain, and the mountainsides above us started to flow with spectacular water falls. There was no sign of human life as far as we could see, just jungle growing on practically vertical mountains walls. We wound through them like a snake, and every turn we saw more and more jungle. Eventually we started to descend. At this point the people in the aisle had taken to lying or sitting an the floor, and slide from side to side every time the bus turned, which them seemed to prefer to standing for another three hours. Soon we came to a point where we could see the end of the jungle, as the road descended into a valley. Our first stop was Limon, a port city used almost exclusively for load ships with supplies. A number of the standers got off, and we continued. We discovered that Cahuita was the next stop and that Puerto Viejo was about 15 minutes further. Umlaut told us her plans in Cahuita, snorkeling and lying on the beach. That sounded better to us than “getting FFUUUUUCKED UP!” or “making with the girl in the room” so we decided to get off with her. Soon the stop came and we fought our way through the standers to the exit. Adrian saw us pass and we told him we wanted to check out Cahuita, but that we might hop on the public bus to Puerto Viejo later that weekend.
As we stepped of the bus it was clear that Cahuita was not a big town, it seemed to consist of about four blocks. The roads were dirt, the houses were made in the typical style, cinder blacks with corrugated metal roofs, painted bright colors. In the whole town there were only hostels, tourist info kiosks, restaurants, and souvenir shops. Soon we were accosted by a local who was more than happy to show us a hotel, or sell us some pot. You know, which ever. This was in English I might add, since many of the inhabitants of the Caribbean coast are from Jamaica, also explaining the second offer. We said we could find our own way and thanked him. Umlaut had selected a hostel from her guide book and we tried there. It was right on a spectacular white sand beach, overlooking a perfect aqua blue a ocean. Sadly it was full. Not to worry, back towards the bus station we had seen manly other hostels. Full. Full. Full. Now it was starting to get dark, and we were starting to get worried. We found an apartment we could rent, but it was out of our price range for just a couple of days. Finally another local offered to help and found us a nice little hostel very close to the beach. We decided to share a room with three beds, and soon headed out to dinner. We discussed our plans for the next day and decided that the number one priority was the beach.




The beach in Cahuita is a protected park, so you have to pass through a mini-ranger station on entry where a donation is requested. It seemed to be one of the only parks left in Costa Rica which does not have a mandatory fee. Normally park fees are not a bad thing in my book, as long as they are not too high and they are well used to protect the park. In Costa Rica, however, a park fee usually results in gringo only parks as the fees are set too high for locals. The first thing that we noticed was that the beach was pretty much deserted, granted it was about 10:00 in the morning. We walked down the beach, awestruck.



It was your typical Caribbean beach. Fine white sand. Slanted palm trees over the beach. Perfect blue water. And a thick jungle backdrop. We found a nice shady spot and decided to take a dip in the ocean. The water was perfectly clear in the shallows, showing us sand dollars, starfish, and many small fish. As soon as our feet touched the water we were shocked. This was not the cold California Pacific, this was the Caribbean! The water was warm as bath water, far warmer than any shower we had taken since arriving to the country. We went a bit further out and emerged ourselves fully in the wonderful, almost still, water. The water was almost too warm, but felt wonderful as the small waves rocked our floating bodies. The water seemed to have been saltier than the Pacific which made floating effortless.



We spent the whole day running in and out of the water, reading, and relaxing. As we left the beach, which had filled with Ticans and Gringos alike, we watched the sun set over the jungle.
We decided to set up a tour for the next day, and made reservation to go snorkeling. After that we headed out for some diner. We found a nice looking place, which after sitting down, we noticed was playing Elvis music. At first we thought it was funny, until we realized that was all they played. In the end it turned out to be a nice break from the 80's music and reggae that was played EVERYWHERE else in Costa Rica (if I hear Red Red Wine one more time there will be Red Red Blood). We sat down, ordered and started waiting for our food (which in CR often takes upwards of an hour). I came prepared with cards, and we started to play “casino”, a game Umlaut had taught us. Suddenly the lights went out. By that I don't mean the lights in the room, or the lights in the building, but all the lights... everywhere. In an instant it went totally black. This apparently was very common, as no one seemed the least bit concerned. We starred up at a fantastic starry night and moments later little lights started to appear in everyones hands. This occurrence was apparently so common that everyone carried around flashlights. Fortunately I had brought a head lamp with me since the streets were already pretty dark even when the lights were on. About ten minutes later, more lights started to appear as all the shops lit candles that I had not even noticed were pre-placed for just such an event. Our waitress told us that there was a dry spell, and that all the electricity came from a hydro-electric plant. Apparently when there's no rain, there's not enough electricity. After playing cards by candle-light for a bit our food showed up, and we inhaled it. Soon the electricity came back on as we headed back to the hostel.
We woke up the next morning to find the sky covered in clouds. Our snorkeling tour was leaving early in the morning so we packed up quick and headed out. As we arrived at the hostel that ran the tour, we asked about the weather and they said not to worry, that it was normal and would clear. They fed us a breakfast of toast and coffee, while they tried to fit us with flippers. When I showed them my feet they laughed, and simply grabbed the largest fins they had, which didn't seem to be all that much bigger than my feet. Then we were off and climbed into a boat, as it started to rain. The guide told us not to worry, that it would clear up. We took the small boat out as the guide gave as a quick lecture about the coral reef, and how we would be stabbed with a harpoon if we stepped on it seeing as that could kill it. He also showed as a little page filled with many different types of fish that live in this type of reef. All were unbelievably brightly colored which I took to be simply an artifact of the artists rendition, and then a page of sharks. SHARKS??? I was confident that the guide would not take is into a place where there was any danger, I mean that must be against some sort of insurance policy right? I took a good look at our boat, which had clearly been patched about a hundred times and realized that there was no insurance policy. Soon me fears were confirmed is the guide listed the animals we would be seeing, ending with sting-rays and sharks.
As we jumped into the water, it was raining quite heavily. Fortunately the water was still perfectly warm. The guide asked if anyone needed instructions on how to use the snorkeling mask, and as it was my first time I raised my hand. Apparently I was the only one, and being such did not mandate any instruction at all. Off we went. Mistake number one, don't breath through your nose, it simply makes the mask crush your face. Mistake number two keep your mouth totally sealed around the mouth piece other wise your mouth tend to fill with water. Mistake number three, don't dive without holding your breath, as the tube fills with water. Now that that was done, (after having adequately tasted Caribbean water so as to compare it with Pacific water) on with the tour. The reef was amazing, exhibiting many different types of reef, of all different colors, and shapes. They looked like bright green giant brains, still red seaweed patches, and yellow sponges. I soon discovered that the artist who drew the fish was not embellishing the colors of the fish, but in fact did not do them justice. Neon blues, shinning yellows, startling reds. I never could have imagined that colors could be so bright, let alone them be on animals. We followed our guide through coral mazes filled with beautiful fish of all sizes and colors, anemones, sea cucumbers, and many others that I could not recognize. We swam through schools of fish, which came so close to us that you could touch them, though if you tried they would easily dart out of range. Soon we came up for a break and the guide told us we would be heading towards the shark cave. Wait, what did he say??? We found ourselves swimming in deeper waters than before, and it was much murkier than the coral area. The guide paused and brought us all around. He then dove as we watched and pointed to two things in the water that seemed to be breathing holes of some creature. As he approached, a huge ( three feet across) sting-ray shook off the earth covering it and soared away as the guide chased after it, and looked as though he was going to grab its tail. A) Isn't that supposed to be poisonous? B) Ever heard of Steve Irwin? Well the sting-ray escaped and we continued our, what I considered ill-considered, quest for the shark. After about 15 minutes something unexpected occurred. I saw something large swimming in the water, and soon recognized that I was only a few yards from a shark that was well over a yard long. It turned away from me and headed into the murky water as I something even more unexpected happened, after signal the others I swam after it. Soon we caught up to it, and Amy and a few of the others caught a glimpse of the giant fish as well. It was strange for me, because in that instant my desire to get a good look at this amazing animal completely crushed any fears I had of it. After that the guide considered his job done and told us that we could wonder around for the bit and then it would be time to go. We climbed back into the boat and the driver took us to a peninsula, the opposite direction from which we headed. There was a second optional part of the tour, which involved hiking back to town through the jungle. Amy and I had checked out a bit of the trail, and decided that a guide was unnecessary as the trail seemed well-kept. As we approached the land, Amy noticed some creature high up in the trees, which the guide soon identified as a sloth. Umlaut disembarked as she had decided to take the tour with the guide and we headed back to the beach from which we had come.
Amy and I headed back to town for a little rest, packed some lunches and headed out towards the jungle which paralleled the beach. As we started out we ran into Umlaut and her guide. We gave her the key (sadly they only gave us one key to the room) so that she could head back to the hostel and shower. The trail was well-kept, about three feet wide and quite amazing. As we hiked we admired the thick jungle, with vines hanging from tall trees that obscured the light of the sun making it feel like dusk.



There were many flowers and plants which I had never seen before. Soon we came across trails of leaf-cutter ants. These are amazing creatures, as they manage to actually cut trials through even the thickest jungle. You can see trails almost half a foot in width, diving deep into the jungle, revealing the only dirt apart from the trail. As we continued deeper we started to hear something up in the trees. It was coming from some trees over the beach. We hiked through the edge of the jungle and emerged on the beach. We looked up to find a tree full of white-faced capuchin monkeys.



I don't know who was making more interesting sounds, the monkeys or Amy as she squealed with delight. We watched the monkeys eating fruit from the tree, jumping from limb to limb, and occasionally darting threateningly at each other. After a bit I dragged Amy kicking and screaming back to the trail. Soon we came to a very thick part of the jungle. As we walked, we kept thinking we saw movement out of the corner of our eyes, but every time we looked we saw nothing but small holes about two inches in diameter in the ground. Soon the ground became a bit muddy as the holes became more prevalent. We started to realize that something was living in the holes, and when we started to approached they dashed into their hide-aways. We slowed our pace, trying to move more quietly and soon realized that the inhabitants of the holes were bright blue crabs!



There were hundreds of them along the path and as you approached they cascaded away into their homes. Never have I seen anything quite like it!
We continued on, enjoying the sound of the crabs running all around us as this area was packed with them, and soon we came upon a set of bridges. The bridges seemed to pass over some extremely wet earth, but no running water. As we passed over one of the bridges we heard sounds coming from the jungle. We stopped, and caught a glimpse of something cat-sized (house cat, not jungle cat) moving in the foliage. Holding our breath we waited, soon realizing that there were many of them out in the jungle. Soon our visitors revealed themselves as we were disappointed to discover a pack of raccoons. Those critters are everywhere! Continuing on we passed a number of interesting looking spiders, and something strange caught my eye. There was something bright yellow wrapped around a branch of a tree. We approached it to find a very small, bright yellow snake! I brought the camera up real close (within six inches) and got a good picture that clearly shows the eye-lashes of this yellow eye-lash viper. Later we also found out that they are very poisonous, especially young ones like this was. Whoops, should have sprung for the better zoom....



Hiking deeper into the jungle we soon heard a sound which Amy recognized as howler monkeys, or Congos as they call them in Costa Rica. We soon caught up with a group of them that a guide for another group had been exciting by clapping. They were barking loudly like dogs. Not the sound at all you would expect a monkey to make. Continuing on we were accosted by another group of capuchins that had a keen interest in what we were having for lunch.



After making our escape we headed back towards the entrance, marveling at the myriad of plants, insects, and animals that surrounded us. Before leaving Amy wanted to make a quick bathroom stop. While Amy was off in the restroom, I stared out into the jungle. On her return I pointed out a large brown lizard in the foliage which I had spotted. It looked sort of like an iguana about a foot and a half long, but was brown and had a frill on its head that ran along its spine almost to the tip of its tail. We thought that was a great way to end the day and just as we started to head out it moved, clearly startled by something. Upon closer inspection of the foliage we noticed another lizard, almost identical but bright green. Awesome! We watched them for a bit, and soon noticed yet another lizard, which was also iguana-like, but was also brown and appeared to be nearly four feet long!!! By far the biggest lizard we had EVER seen, approaching baby dinosaur size!



Having finished off a great day in Costa Rica, we headed back to the hostel to meet Umlaut for dinner as it started to rain. As we reached the door we noticed that the lights in the room were still off, not a good sign for us. We knocked and received no answer. A few minutes later we tried again, no answer. So we sat down an a bench that was sheltered from the rain we waited while we consumed the remainder of our lunch as we had started to become very hungry. An hour later, and there was no sign of Umlaut. We decided that we were starving and headed out to eat. After having dinner we returned to the hostel, and still found the room vacated. Now it was getting quite late, and we were getting quite worried, and it was raining even harder. We tried to find the hostel owner, but he was no where around. Finally we decided it was time to search, but that one of us should remain in case Umlaut had been looking for us. I headed out into the rain, wet but warm since it was still around 80 degrees out. I checked a few restaurants with no luck, and finally found her leaving an internet cafe. Apparently she had just lost track of time chatting with her boyfriend...
The next morning Umlaut was gone since she had arranged a very early bus towards Panama. After breakfast we headed to our bus, which was leaving that afternoon for Liberia (where we were getting a bus to Nicaragua) and noticed Umlaut coming down the street. Apparently she had left her camera cable in the internet cafe and had made it to Puerto Viejo before turning around and coming back for it. We just smiled and nodded. Soon our bus boarded and we were off again into the jungle.

La Fortuna, Costa Rica, November 2007

When did one of the most dangerous natural phenomenons become a tourist attraction? I mean is it really a good idea to build a million dollar resort at the base of a volcano? I mean seriously what kind of morons would go to a place like that? Table for two, Beck and Amy. Actually three of us went together to visit Volcano Arenal for the weekend, a very active volcano which has caused significant damage to the surrounding area from major eruptions in the last ten years. It is constantly active, creating small eruptions every day for tourists to come and enjoy (I'm going to be pissed if it turns out its an anamatronic volcano). So after three buses and about 9 hours we made it to La Fortuna, (there used to be another town on the other side of the volcano called La Disafortuna.....) a small town with only one purpose, to collect money from tourists. In La Fortuna everything costs twice as much as it should, they add a 15% tax (which we think is a gringo tax), and a 10% service charge (which they don't tell you about, and expect a tip anyway). We went to eat at a Mexican place, and decided to leave because we felt 30,000 Colones (about $55) was too much to pay for a plate of enchiladas which would normally cost at most 3,000 Colones. At any rate, we found a hostel and another traveling buddy, making us four: Amy, Ryan, Gunhild and myself. Our hostel kindly offered us to drive us to the volcano for a fair price of $35 per person (the park was less than 5 miles away) so we opted to rent a car for the day. I offered to drive and return the car, but only Ryan had the appropriate ID so he rented it under his name. I really should have specified that I don't drive stick.... At any rate so there I was, driving a stick in a third world country where there really were no traffic laws, nor anyone to enforce them. We did however read on a sticker in the card that the minimum speed was 40 kph....




So there I was, driving the stick, only having stalled only once before leaving the parking lot (every clutch is different, right?) and eventually we found our way to the entrance of the park around 2:30PM. The volcano can be seen from anywhere, but the lava was only coming from one side so if you want to see it you have to observe from this park. So I pull up to the gate, and we pay. Then I nervously try to get the car moving, and stall. I smile and nod at the nice lady in the window, restart the car and proceed to immediately stall again. Third times the charm..... stall. At this point the woman angrily yells down at me from the window (in the best English I have ever heard a Tico speak), “Sir, there are people behind you!!” . And then I was off..., out of the driver side door as Ryan, our only respectable stick driver, ran laughing out of the passenger side door and took over for me. Now what made this really funny, is that the women at in the window thought we were ass-hole gringos making jokes, where-as in reality we were just incompetent gringos making jokes. The other additional bit of humor in this is that this is not the first time I have held up a line at a gate trying to get a stick to go. I remember the same thing occurring trying to cross the Arizona-California border with Theo, and the Canada-US border with Yosh. Its really a tradition for me now....



At any rate, eventually we made it into the park, which was very cool. We hiked up to the “view point” and watched the volcano belch smoke and make a very scary growling sound. The sort of sound that makes you think “I should be running, why am I not running?!”. So we ate lunch, enjoying the occasional eruption and chatting about our travels. We then decided to check out the trail that circumvents the base of the volcano. As we started to hike we were surrounded be 15 foot tall reeds and were soon startled by a strange sound. It sounded like someone was electrocuting a rooster. It turned out to be a large black bird that was trying to impress another large black bird. The bird was performing a matting dance that started by ruffling its feathers in such a way that it literally sounded like electricity, during which it was leaning further and farther off the branch until it reached a point where it's legs were parallel with the ground and then suddenly jerked back upright making a sound like an extremely loud “coo-coo” from a coo-coo clock. After observing this amazing display, we continued to cross a HUGE lava bed, that had a sign on it stating that this was the extent of the 1992 erruption, and that it was extremely dangerous and that if you can read this sign you should be running, or sacrificing a virgin. We decided the best thing to do was to take a picture with the sign! Cool!



We continued our hike, hearing howler monkeys in the distance as we delved into a thick jungle. Seeing a toucan in a far tree, and then having one land directly above my head was amazing. It's beak was as long as its body, sweet!! We continued our quest for monkeys, as the sun began to set Amy decided it was time to see if vines can hold her body weight.




The jungle it became far too dark, far too quickly so we decided to turn back. We never found any monkeys but we did see some head-sized morpho butterflies dancing together.



As we rose out of the jungle, the sky was on fire, not from the volcano, but from the sunset which was unreal.



We continued on to the lava bed, which we decided was the best view of the volcano (hoping that volcanoes are like lightning and never strike the same place twice).










The volcano exhibited two fantastic behaviors. One of which was lava flows, which was this flow, like water, but you can only see the “crashing” of the front, which is still molten. It would jump in bounds of bright red light, and the pause and jump again. The other behavior was red hot boulders which were blown from the top, and then bounced as the fell to the bottom of the volcano (not towards us thankfully). After watching for a few hours we decided that we should finish the hike back, in the dark. We lost the trail in the lava bed, and were yelled at by a local guide telling us that there were many poisonous snakes and we shouldn't wonder. Thanking him, we asked him were the trail was and we followed it for ten feet, and lost it again. Eventually we made it into the reeds, where Amy found some amazing glow-in-the dark worms, SWEET! When we reached the car we noticed that we were the only car left in the parking lot, weird huh? So we decided to make a loop back up to the “viewpoint”, which was nowhere nearly as good as the lava bed. We were soon stopped by a ranger who informed us that the park had closed to the public four hours earlier (interesting that the nice lady at the desk didn't tell us that the park was closing at 3:30 when we entered at 2:30). He escorted us to the exit and opened the gate for us. After that we headed back to town for pizza and beers laughing about how we had managed to be the most retarded gringos in town.

Granada: October, 2007

In Costa Rica everyone told us that Nicaragua was dangerous, and that the people were unfriendly and mean. When we asked our Tican informants (notice the plural here) why this was or which parts of the country were dangerous we were informed that Nicaragua was dangerous because there were a lot of indigenous people there. Very different from Costa Rica where the people are much lighter skinned. (at this the conversation would take a turn for the possibly more disturbing when our distressed and confused looks were interpreted as a need for further clarification, which took the form of presenting a handy body part for inspection with the assurance that without the suntan the skin is even lighter.) But I digress, Nicas, according to our sources come into Costa Rica to help with the harvests and are the reason for all that ails the country. Apparently their northern neighbors, love nothing better than to sit around drinking, robbing banks, getting in to fights and murdering poor unsuspecting Ticans that is when they aren't busy threatening to invade Costa Rica. These qualities are so ubiquitous when it comes to Nicans that a Tican does not even have to go to Nicaragua (or know a single Nicaraguan for that matter) The concept of visiting a country "infested" with them (ie. Nicaragua) is greeted by Ticans with the same hand waving and squealing behavior displayed when you described 50 foot spider you found under your bed last night over breakfast. Really it is all quite confusing why some stupid gringo would be interested in a place after you have already told them that it is filled with indigenous people. (Did we mention that we have lighter skin than them. Yes mein fuhrer I think you might have brought that up.) Well as you might expect these pleasant discussions set off some red flags and we decided to look into it. After some research on-line we found out that Nicaragua has a "stable" democracy, a relatively high economic growth rate, and is rated the safest country in Central America by the US state department and is technically safer than the better part of the US and most of Europe. Not only that, but most of the problems are isolated to the capital, which we were not planning to visit anyway.

So we found ourselves in Granada (Nicaragua). Picture a combination of Granada (Spain), Morocco, Spanish California and OK a bit of Latin America thrown in there. Despite being one of the oldest cities in the Americas (founded in 1524 by the conquistador Francisco Hernandez de Cordoba and named after the conquistadors home town in Andalusia) Granada's colonial architecture is quite well preserved. Granada is situated on Lake Granada which is enormous. It is the 10th largest lake in the world (about half the size of Lake Ontario or the size of New York State take your pick). Lake Nicaragua is so far west that it is only separated from the Pacific Ocean by a small strip of land but it is connected to the Caribbean sea by a river which traverses the entire country. One of the things Lake Nicaragua is famous for is its fresh water bull sharks which can be up to 11 feet in length and have been shown recently to migrate from the Caribbean up the river just like salmon. (I like to picture that this amounts to Jaws crossing Central America by jumping the wrong way up Class IV's) The sharks aren't the only things to migrate up the river either. Granada has a history of getting attacked by pirates who used to sailed up into the lake from the Caribbean. Don't ask me how they then proceeded to catch the city by surprise but either I am missing something or the Granadians were quite unobservant of what was going on in the lake because the city was sacked 3 times in a relatively short amount of time. Ouch!


We spent most of our time wandering around the city looking at the buildings and trying to escape the rain by dodging into various museums. There are 6 large churches/small cathedrals in town all painted a dramatically different crayola color and in various states of repair. The city itself is spotless, almost freakishly so. And the tourist walk is lined with restaurants where you can find everything from a pesto chicken sandwich, to Mexican style burritos to Americanized nachos and buffalo wings at the American Baseball sports bar. And there is something. Wow do the Nicaraguans love their beisbol. Walking down the streets of Granada you will find more people wearing Yankee baseball caps than you will strolling around Central Park. I think that I read somewhere that they are the only Latin American country in which baseball, not soccer, is the national sport. In contrast to the clean un-cluttered tourist walk the local market is located in a huge colonial building and is just wall to wall people with baskets on their heads selling everything from homemade cheese to socks. Very engaging, very smelly.












From Granada it is a very easy day trip to Apoya Laguna. Apoya Laguna is a lake inside the crater of an extinct volcano and filled with little floating objects which upon closer inspection you realize are actually rocks (not churches, lead, or even very small rocks just huge chunks of pumice stone). According to one source despite the best efforts of survey teams no one seems able to have been able to find the bottom of the crater. You can hang out at a beachfront hostel For US$ 5 a day a serious ripoff since US$ 8 buys you a bed there for the night! Of course for a cool US$500,000 you can just buy the whole place outright. Once you are there there is nothing much to do but kayak around the bottomless crater, read a book or just sit back and float (like a rock) in the lake.