Coming home...

With a sick Matt in tow (who believes we brought the germs off the plane) and his slobbering, snorting English bulldog, Molly, we're beginning our drive home in a matter of minutes. It should take us anywhere between 14 and 16 hours if all goes well. I haven't checked the weather forecast for the East Coast but from what I've heard from family, we'll be accompanied by storms or racing them. We have our fingers crossed that it'll be a very boring, uneventful drive.

ETA: Saturday morning, probably around 7 or 8. If Mother Nature doesn't delay us...

Where did we land?



Oh the places we've been...

 So, the weather outside is frightful. Alright, maybe it's not there yet, but seriously - we're dealing with a 60 degree drop overnight - have a little sympathy for us ;)  Really though...we are in the South right? I heard it's only in the 30's in Florida. What the heck is going on with the weather?  We weren't equipped for this. Mike stepped off the plane in cargo shorts, flip flops and a t-shirt. That didn't really cut it for 26 degrees...thank goodness for four extra t-shirts in his carry on that he proceeded to layer on, and of course, the beard.

Speaking of, we successfully made it through America's security after a suspicious review of Mike's passport photo (the JFK Jr. version) and a "that's you?" I informed him that we just spent three months in Costa Rica without a razor. He laughed and added that Mike reminded him of Tom Hanks in Castaway.

After a two hour trip to Matt's house, I got my fill of driving. Stupid me, decided to call shotgun on driving the first stretch of our road trip to CT when we were still in Costa Rica and driving was something I missed. Mike and Matt haven't forgotten.  So I guess I'll get an overdose soon....

Day 89: Blogging from the sky

It's was smooth sailing getting to the airport and has been a pretty decent flight with the exception of our takeoff. It was a little bumpy and I told Mike I hope it wasn't a sign that the flight was gonna follow suit. He reminded me that this was a Costa Rican runway. I should be happy it's paved.

So I'm blogging from the sky right now (courtesy of Delta's free in-flight wifi until January 2nd) with about 45 minutes left of our flight before we touch down in Georgia. The pilot informed us at takeoff that it's a cozy 32 degrees in Atlanta. Welcome home. Well, almost...

Day 88: Some final recognitions...

When we walked into Adobe, we were personally greeted, literally, by the rental agent that’s always there when we rent our cars. He called Mike by name and asked how he could help him and seemed to be as disappointed as us that he couldn’t provide a car that could be left at the airport for only one day without charging us for three. Seeing as Adobe is a much smaller company (I’m pretty sure their fleet maxes out at six cars) they would need to charge us the additional amount to cover the cost of the driver and gas to pick the car up from the airport to bring back to Quepos which is about a three hour drive and over 150 miles away. We had a feeling he would’ve hooked us up had he been the only one in the office, but with a supervisor and another employee present, he was defeated. Thanks anyways Carlos.


It was probably better for us. The Jimny sat in Adobe’s driveway just waiting for us to take it on another journey and we don’t have Matt here to fix it when it decides to be stubborn. Alamo had a much nicer and less stubborn looking Toyota Yaris waiting for us that has proven to be the smoothest rental ride yet.


Before we picked up the car, we headed to our favorite Quepos café, El Milagro and was recognized by the waitress that speaks fluent English but likes to ask us questions in Spanish to see if we’ve gotten any better. I would have impressed her by ordering my coffee in Spanish, but all I had to do was nod my head and respond with a “si” since she already knew what we wanted and how to make it. I was a little saddened that we couldn’t take her home.


With a final trip to Jaco for some last minute souvenirs and we quickly got the heck out of there, after a decent lunch at Restaurant Espanol, and headed back home. With everything already packed and cleaned, we really had nothing left to do except wait. So in a matter of 24 hours of writing this, we’ll be back in the States - God willing US customs allows Mike back in.

Day 87: Cleaning house

We’ve decided against the car service to the airport seeing as renting a car, getting lost, and barely making our flight are worth the amount it would cost to bring us to the airport. Through our various road trips throughout this country, we remembered there’s a different route to the airport that avoids the confusion of San Jose’s hectic one way streets. So tomorrow, we’ll catch the early bus to Quepos to pick up our final rental car…fingers crossed it’s better than the Jimny.


We decided to clean and pack today so we can enjoy the freedom of the rental car on our last day here. I’m sure Gary will agree that the place is in better condition than when we arrived. Everything is clean, including the refrigerator, the garbage is out and we’ve added to the collection of minimal kitchen utensils. And we didn’t leave a bullfrog behind the toilet.

I’d say I’ll miss this place, but after last night’s party till dawn, I’m pretty happy to be heading home to catch up on some much needed sleep. We woke up about every hour to the sound of applause, cheers, drums, music and yelling. Around 5am, I gave up thinking it would end. We tried to use our earbuds as ear plugs to help block the noise but it didn’t work.


I guess we're feeling our thirties.  We were just amazed people can actually stay awake for that long. We didn’t even go to the party and we're exhausted.

Two more nights to go…

Day 86: 'Twas two weeks before Christmas...

And we laid on the beach. (I thought of continuing the rhyme but it seemed really cheesy so I thought it best to not.)



Anyways, we made it to the beach for the last time of our trip and of the year for that matter. We extended the summer for as long as we could. Now it’s time to return to the cold, harsh reality that awaits our return. Rather than focus on that, we’ve been listing off things we’re looking forward to; family, friends, Marley, kitties, hearing English, dryers, my Keurig...

Mike listed off the restaurants we'll be hitting up in no particular order: Pizza Shoppe, The Whistle Stop, Osaka, Buffalo Wild Wings...I’m sure the list could continue but he stopped there. Other than pizza, the only craving I’ve had is Indian food. I’m looking forward to some tikka masala and garlic naan from somewhere and plan on it as soon as we land. Matt’s convinced the south doesn’t have Indian food, I’m convinced I’ll find one.

It's a little nerve racking but still exciting to return to the unknown. Our employment, our home, our next step, is all up in the air. (Don’t think we haven’t been working on it, but I have a feeling it’s gonna be a bit easier when we’re home.) I’m convinced it’ll work out. We had good intentions with our trip; to take advantage of the opportunity that probably wouldn’t be around for long, to add to our travel and life experiences, to enjoy each other and ourselves, and for me, it was to explore a personal goal I had pushed off to the side and regretted with each day that passed. With 200 pages worth of blog material (book pages, not 8.5 x11) and 233 pages of some other stuff, I’d say the inspiration was found. I’ve committed myself to daily writing and I don’t intend to stop.

So I’ll leave this entry by screwing up a quote I once read. I can't remember it verbatim but you'll get the point.


"If you wait until the right time to do what you want to do, you’ll end up doing a whole lot of nothing…"


Made sense to me.

Day 85: A Farewell Note to Costa Rica

Dear Costa Rica,


It’s gonna be sad to say goodbye but we knew this wouldn’t last forever. At least we had enough time to get to know each other pretty well. I hope we can still be friends even after we part.


I was a little overwhelmed in the beginning. It had been awhile, things were foreign to me. I’ll admit, at first I didn’t think we were gonna work. After a few days, I was ready to leave. You were way too hot and our relationship required way more work than I expected. We barely understood each other. I’m glad we worked it out though. After a few adjustments, we figured it out and got used to each other.


It annoyed me at first but now I like that you’re the no frills type. You could care less if you keep up with the newest technology or latest trends. You’re simple and don’t see the need for extravagance. That was kind of a nice change - except for the times I just wanted to check my email and you wouldn’t let me.


Anyone who has been lucky enough to spend time with you thinks you’re amazing and beautiful. They’re right, you are. There’s more to you than just your looks – you’re cultured, you value your traditions and family’s important to you. You have every reason to flaunt yourself. I spent a lot of time just looking at you.

There are some things you could work on though. You could take better care of yourself in some areas. And you’re a little bit dangerous sometimes…kind of unpredictable. We went down a fair share of bumpy roads and only got real shaky once. You only got really destructive during your most intense outburst. But you made up for it with some warm embraces afterwards. You kept me from being bored, that’s for sure. I never knew what I was gonna wake up to or what little present I might find. Other than being a little loud sometimes, I was pretty relaxed when we were together. Even if you wouldn’t let me sleep in, at least you know how to make a great cup of coffee and stellar breakfast.

I’m glad we got to know each other. I was tired of the same old and was looking for something different and you most definitely came through. I’m sorry I got a little heated sometimes and a little frustrated when I found myself in some sticky situations. For the most part, I’d cool off after a bit. Our moments were exhilarating, breathtaking, and relaxing. I liked that I could be lazy with you and just lounge around for as long as I wanted, just getting lost at times.


There was a warmth about you, Costa Rica, that I have a feeling I’m really gonna miss…


Pura Vida,


Nicole

Day 84: Out of hiding

I woke up last night to the sound of wings flapping. I woke Mike up, but since this is the fifty third time I’ve done that since we landed here almost three months ago, he grumbled something and rolled over. I wasn’t too adamant about waking him up since the sound was under us and our door was closed - we were safe.


When I woke up, I tiptoed into the kitchen but realized it would make more sense to bang around pots and pans and scare the thing into staying put. I’d rather it rot in the cabinet than fly around our house again. Throughout the day each room got a full inspection before I’d enter. Mike convinced me it must have crept out through a hole someplace…maybe the same way it came in.


He was wrong.


As I was peacefully sitting cross-legged on the couch with the coffee table pulled all the way to the edge so I could use it as a desk while writing, my peripheral vision noticed a flying shadow. I barely had time to look up before it was a foot from my face, blindly headed for my head (really it was interested in the window behind me but my head was in its direct path). In a matter of a split second, I crawled over the coffee table, knocked over a full mug of hot tea during the crawl, and locked myself upstairs in the bedroom. Mike stayed with it while it flew from window to window trying to escape until it finally made it out the door.

I came out of hiding when it was gone, cleaned up my mess and refilled my mug with wine.

Day 83: A few last wake up calls

We woke up to something that sounded very similar to gravel crunching around our roof. For about two seconds, I thought we were mid landslide and rocks were dumping on us until the sound was followed by squealing. After two more seconds of sleepy reasoning, I erased the natural disaster that was playing out in my mind and replaced it with a wheelbarrow. Why was the pool guy working so early? It wasn’t even light out yet. It was….(roll over and get my cell phone) 2:38am.


After listening for a few more seconds, we realized the pool guy hadn’t been overly ambitious and some creatures were throwing a party somewhere between the roof and our bedroom ceiling. Iguanas? Maybe. But after the third bat entered our living room tonight, I’m thinking they’re the late night party animals.

Mike attempted to scare them by turning on the lights but it didn’t work. He went outside on the balcony and stared but that didn’t do it either. So he took the first thing his groggy eyes could find - my change purse filled with American coins - and threw it at the ceiling. I guess you could say it worked. We didn’t hear the noise for the few seconds it took all the change to clang on the wood floor - which also happened to be loud enough to startle the yipper into doing what it does best.


As for the third bat, he drunkenly swooped into the living room, dove into the ceiling and crash landed on the floor with a thud that sounded fatal. He was either knocked unconscious or did a really good job at faking it since he didn’t move when we shined the flashlight on him or walked over to him. Let me rephrase that, Mike walked over to him. I assumed position in the bathroom.

It came to and started crawling in the opposite direction of our front door so Mike decided to let it out the back. It creeped down the short hallway, into the middle of the kitchen, where Mike left it for all of three seconds to shut the front door before another decided to visit. When he returned, it was gone and he couldn’t find it. Knowing Mike’s not the best at finding things because he’s a guy (I’m sorry but I don’t even blame you guys, I don’t think you can help it), I bravely joined the search.

This thing is seriously good at hide and seek. We spent ten minutes checking every crevice of our kitchen. Apparently it found home base. And we have no idea where that might be.

Day 82: Remembering the highs...

Lots of highs amid the annoyances of the lows:

Parrita’s beach, moving to Dominical, ziplining in Monteverde, reuniting with TV and a washing machine, La Fortuna’s hot springs all to ourselves, Matt’s visit, iguanas outside of our house, pastel sunsets, the first ten minute walk to town after a month of two hour walks, every sunny day, no more than 15 people on the beach at one time, a peek at Volcano Arenal, paved roads, scenic landscapes, fried plantains, mountains and valleys, free samples on our coffee tour, beach monkeys searching backpacks, street signs pointed in the right direction, the view of Tamarindo from our upgraded suite, gallo pinto, our regular spots: Café Milagro, Maracatu, Café Delicias, a new favorite: Dominical Sushi, lounging on hammocks, our first rental car, every book I finished reading (well most of them), every page I finished writing, and every day we had to ourselves to do whatever we wanted.



And Mike’s beard (guess who added that one).

Day 81: Forgetting the lows...

We'll start with the lows and leave with the highs. Here's what came to mind:

Bugs, bats, bullfrogs (although they brought a bit of entertainment), crabs of all sizes, earthquakes, rainy days, two hour walks to town, broken bicycles, bruised butts, gallons of sweat, iguanas in our ceiling, getting caught in torrential downpours, losing Matt for five hours, unpaved roads, amputating the gecko’s tail, power outages, the flood, landslides, crowded buses, the Jimny Cricket rental car, hand washing clothes, sliding on mud, getting lost on 95% of our road trips, knowing every day we’re a little bit closer to wind chills and freezing temps.



And Mike’s beard :)

Day 80: He's Batman.

Matt’s departure made room for another houseguest. I invited Bat #2 in by leaving our bedroom balcony door wide open (we get a good breeze and no one believes in the power of door screens here). We heard rustling but since we live in the jungle amid lots of leaves and animals, rustling is normal, even when we heard it the second time. But when the third time was accompanied by a flying shadow, I ran to the bathroom and shut the door.


Mike wasn’t happy about having to shoosh another bat out of the house but they don’t put up much of a fight. He landed at the doorway and sat there until Mike nudged him a few times with the broom.  He walked on his own out the door. And then I opened the bathroom door.

Even though Mike feels like an old pro, I can assure you that neither of us will miss the bats.

Day 79: It's the final countdown...

10 days to go.

Day 78: An unfair travel comparison

Each day we get closer to coming home, we think of something else we’re looking forward to (aside from family and friends and our Marley). Today, Mike mentioned how glad he’ll be to no longer have lint on all his clothes. It’s the little things.



He also admitted, surprisingly, that he was more disappointed about leaving Japan than Costa Rica. I agreed even though I was blinded by my excitement to come home after eight months on the other side of the world. We felt a little unfinished with the country and have seriously thought about another visit.

Instead we opted for its complete opposite. We went from Japan’s advanced technology to Costa Rica’s lack of electricity. From roads so clean I’d eat off them, to some tables I refuse to put my plate on. Transportation in Japan was like walking out the school doors and seeing your mom waiting for you, on time and ready to go. Here, it’s like waiting around for your stoner brother for a half hour before you give up and start walking. Most importantly, in Japan, I would walk to and from train stations, work and home, even in the dark, and never had a hint of worry about my safety or my bags or my keys or any of my belongings. Everything was well lit and well traveled and well…mannered. In Costa Rica, The Lonely Planet guide offers this routine warning for each of the towns we travel through: Take your sh*t with you or it’ll be gone when you get back. Locals have tried to soften the thievery by saying it’s just a misunderstanding. If you leave it behind, it must mean you don’t want it. They’re just helping you get rid of it. Riiiiight.

It’s not fair to compare the countries though because they’re so drastically different and aren't meant to be the same. I’m sure Costa Rica has no interest in surrounding its beautiful beaches with concrete jungles. And the laid back surfer life just doesn’t coincide with the fast-paced work-hungry Japanese. In the end, both countries treated us well. Both gave us our share of tough times. And both have left us with experiences we’ll remember forever.


But man did Japan have good food. We’ve actually contemplated enduring that 18 hour flight just to eat there again someday…

Day 77: A noisy vacation from our vacation

We don’t know why, seeing as we’re well into the dry season, but it’s been raining since we’ve gotten home. So we’ve done a whole lot of just laying around which is actually nice after being consistently moving for the past week. We finally have an opportunity to have a vacation from our vacation.


Good thing we got the majority of our rest during the day. Little did we know, the Villas Rio Mar had a karaoke night planned to begin at 8:30pm. By 9pm, with all the windows closed, we gave up trying to hear the TV. It was so loud, we were convinced a neighbor was hosting the party but after hearing the DJ and the cheers, we knew it was from the resort bar which is only a two minute walk from our house. It sounded as if the tone deaf singers were caroling in our driveway. I can’t sing at all. But I can honestly say, I’d be one of the best singers amid tonight’s poor display of vocal talent. It was bad. And extremely loud. If they couldn’t hit the notes, they’d just sing louder. The louder they sang, the louder the crowd cheered ‘em on.

We laid in bed sharing the iPod, a bud in each ear with the volume cranked, but it couldn't compete. I don’t know how but we managed to fall asleep anyways. I vaguely remember waking up about an hour later and it was still going on but my subconscious wouldn’t allow me to fully awake and expose my ears to any more. I have no clue when they finished…I’m just glad they did. And I pray this isn’t a nightly event.

Day 76: Home sweet home (away from home)

It was nice waking up in the bed we’ve gotten used to surrounded by the noises that we’ve grown accustomed to. It was nice not having to search for the next restaurant for our food, which often ended up being overpriced and under portioned.


I haven't even checked the weather for CT. I don't have to. I’ve seen your Facebook statuses. It's cold. It's chilly. It requires a big beard. I've been dreaming of breathing some crisp cool air again, but now I'm starting to rethink that. It's been about eight months since I've felt cold air.  I'm pretty sure my memory is purposefully blocking out the shivers, chatters, and uncomfortableness of below freezing temps. I'm even more concerned seeing as we've bypassed fall. No prep here for the winter. We're trading in the muggy 80's for the frigid 20's. Can't wait.

We said goodbye to the Cricket today which may end up being the last rental car we use. We’re thinking of having a car service bring us to the airport so we won't get lost for a third time on the same roads.  They can drop us off and we won’t have to worry about dropping off our vehicle before heading through customs and boarding our plane. With so many things that could go wrong, I just prefer not take the chance. I’m confident that if any delays occur, a Tico driver will get us by with either his knowledge of the terrain or sheer insanity.

Until then, we have no plans for our final two weeks other than to deepen our tans and do as much of nothing as possible before our intermission concludes and life resumes.

Day 75: Back on the road...and in the air.

Tipico breakfast. So typical that lots of places don't offer menus.

For some reason, we've been meeting a lot of kitties.
Many of them happy to pose for Mike.

A rare photo op. Ice skates found in a Caribbean coast thrift store.

We were on the road by 6:50am, eating desayuno by 7:30am, and rolled into the airport without any delays at 11:40am. After some hugs and goodbyes, we headed in opposite directions after thirty days of traveling and lounging together. We were sad to see him go. He was sadder to have to leave. But in two weeks, we’ll be hugging and hello-ing in Georgia when he picks us up.


With four hours down, we had four more to go to get back to Dominical. We stopped for a bite to eat and to stretch before the next half of our trek. While Costa Rican food is pretty tasty, it can’t be described as diverse. It’s the same food, same selection, same menu almost everywhere you go. Restaurants advertise “tipico” meals and they couldn’t be any more accurate. Rice, beans, chicken, beef, fish, plantains, cilantro. Yes, it’s all good. But without the help of my own cooking to break up the monotony, I was in need of something…anything….else. Hello Denny’s.

With not many roads to choose from, we drove the same route home as we’ve done on a few occasions now and after a few hours we were as bored with the scenery as we were with the food. As it has on the past few occasions since we’ve traveled, we were welcomed home by rain that got stronger as we got closer. Fortunately, we didn’t return to disaster like we had when we picked Matt up.

We were also welcomed by a cockroach in the sink and four dried turds on the bed. Later in the evening, while I was on the phone with my sis, I interrupted her when a gecko snuck out of the bedroom. He popped up from behind the headboard and scurried to his escape from the room. He was clearly more afraid of me than I of him. Had he not already pooped on our bed, I’m pretty sure he would’ve left a trail of something behind. She asked how I was so calm about it. She couldn't see me but I shrugged when I told her that I'm used to it at this point. I was just glad he finally left our bedroom aka, his bathroom.

Day 74: Tamagringo is a fitting name

Matt got to experience his first crepe.

This must be an ancient leaf bug. Still just as creepy as the youngins.

The view from our balcony.

We tried 'em. Really, they were equivalent to one cheek.

It was dark out when we booked our room (all three of ‘em), so we had yet to see the view from our balcony. When we woke up, we realized it was worth every penny of the extra $80 we weren’t paying. We could see miles of mountains, ocean, beach and sky from the comfort of the cushioned bench and rocking chairs.


Most of our day revolved around eating, walking and window shopping. Tamarindo is the most developed beach area we’ve seen in the two and a half months we’ve been in CR. From discotecques to Chinese takeout, sushi bars and hot dog joints, the place has most of what you’re looking for. The beach was beautiful and waves could be classified as calm - no where near the dangerous things we've been battling on a regular basis.

Our hotel is also home to some serious gangs of leaf bugs. We were surrounded by the monster bugs that looked exactly like a leaf mated with a praying mantis. I hate them more than any of the other bugs that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting here. Matt does too. Mostly because they are extremely large and, we think, blind. They fly around aimlessly without caring what they bump into or attach to. After Matt was attacked by one giant that refused to leave his leg, he refused to walk the same path again. His torture didn’t end there. As we walked up a different path to our room, Mike grabbed a real leaf and tickled his ear. I’m surprised he didn’t do some damage to Mike after violently flinching and slapping in his direction. I’m even more surprised that he didn’t punch him in the face when he realized it wasn’t really a leaf bug.

I stocked up on two more books for our last two weeks.  Seeing as we have a lot of bookshelf sitting somewhat empty at home, I'm committed to bringing all worthy reads back with us.  But I'm starting to get a little nervous that suitcase space may be an issue. Not only have I accumulated a number of books here, we’ve also done some souvenir and Christmas shopping. I guess that’s the positive side of the mold infestation. Anything growing spores will be left behind to collect as much green and blue fuzz as it wants. Seeing as our comforter, sheets, pillows and long pants will most likely remain on a permanent vacation, I think we’ll be alright...pending I don’t find any more book stores.

Day 73: No offense San Jose, but we can't stay...

The trip back to San Jose took less time than we expected. Within about 4 hours, we were yet again lost on the familiar one way, congested streets that encase the airport. We’re pretty consistent with our guesses seeing as we ended up at the same intersection we were at almost one month before, asking a stranger for directions. We re-enacted the event and navigated our way down the same roads that led to the airport.


The drive made us realize that with two nights left before Matt’s flight, San Jose didn’t really appeal to us. It stinks of pollution and the cages that surround the businesses and homes just aren’t very inviting. Since we were halfway to the opposite coast, a place we had yet to see but really wanted to, we decided to just do it.

Google anticipated our ride would be 3 hours and 22 minutes to Tamarindo, a very Americanized surf town known as Tamagringo. I was nervous Google used a high speed tank with monster truck tires to get that estimate but seeing as we had nothing else to do and refused to head home, we went for it. A little over four hours later, we were greeted with the bright lights of funky restaurants (a number of them serving sushi that the thought of made us gag after our all you can eat fest), vacancy signs and souvenir shops. First order of business? Find some beds that are up to standard.

Since we couldn’t find the two I had selected from the LP guide, we decided to wing it. We stopped in a few and looked at a lot - one of which came with a peepshow. As we tried to figure out how to enter the property and where the reception desk was, we scanned the glass doors. Mike stopped on one in particular.

Mike: That lady’s rubbing her boobies.
Matt: Nuh uh.
Nicole: Shut up.
Mike: Swear to God. Look.

With a high hat spotlight pointed directly on her topless half, she enthusiastically examined herself. Until she saw her audience - two very hairy guys with a squinting chic (I didn’t bring my glasses for the occasion). The show then turned into  a disappearing act. Oh well. People with glass doors shouldn't stand naked in front of them.

For the sake of ease, we settled on familiarity at the Best Western. While the entire debacle that gave us our room took about an hour, it was worth the wait. The first standard room she put us in was still occupied but she only realized this after we completed the paperwork and got the keys. No more standard rooms were available. She felt bad, so she upgraded us to a suite for only $20 more versus the $50 it was supposed to be. When we walked in though it was clear it hadn’t been cleaned from the last occupant. With no more suites available and no staff on hand to prep it, she was forced to upgrade us to an apartment style suite with an ocean view for the same price. To her, this was such an absurd upgrade that she had to get her boss’ approval. Seeing as it was 9pm on a Sunday night, he appeared to be less interested in the money and more in being left alone. Approval took all of 20 seconds. So we got ourselves a cozy one bedroom apartment with a full kitchen, two daybeds, two air conditioners and a real hot water shower that didn’t threaten our lives – all for the same price as a “small” standard room as she described it.

We took a brief stroll around the new town only to find most places closed. We forgot. It’s Sunday. The day of rest. We ate at one of the only open restaurants before deciding that’s probably what we should do too.

Day 72: Puerto Viejo and bellies

The agreed upon hotel - after several disagreements.

Yes, the turd that landed on our sushi plate.

Mike found some Christmas presents for himself here.

The belly dancer's finale.

An advertisement mural for Puerto Viejo businesses.

You can't tell from a polaroid...but she could shake it.

Getting to Puerto Viejo was a bit more difficult than we had anticipated the paved road to be. It appeared as though someone went jackhammer happy and drilled various sized potholes, both in depth and width, for miles into town. Dirt roads with moguls are tough but pothole-riddled pavement can do a lot more damage to a car so we had to trudge along with care.


Unfortunately for Matt, the sushi hotel didn’t live up to my requirements (nor his, but he’s gotta tough it out for the sake of his brother who claims they can both sleep on palm leaves in the jungle should the need permit). I could tell that declining a room that was equivalent to last night’s with a bit more feng shui was a relief to him (even though he won’t admit it). I could also tell that after about fifth hotel, when I found an affordable one on the beach with A/C, TV, pool, jacuzzi and breakfast included, he was equally as happy as I was.

Just because we didn’t stay at the sushi spot, didn’t mean they barred us from enjoying the all you can eat sushi special, which we promptly did. Our first plate was barely smaller than our table and loaded with sushi rolls selected by the chef. Seeing as we liked all the options, we didn’t care and proceeded to wolf down the entire plate at an impressive rate before we dove into plate two, a smaller portion of the same selections that started to fill us up.

Fortunately, we had finished all but three of the rolls before we got a special side. Mike noticed that something fell from the ceiling onto the edge of our white ceramic plate that looked very similar to the tiny pellets we’ve discovered on our bed - except with a moist freshness to it. Our premonition was confirmed when we looked up and found a gecko positioned directly over our heads. We can leave the house, but can’t escape being pooped on. I was just glad it didn’t land in the black pool of my soy sauce where chunks of rice and wasabi could easily mask a fresh turd swimming around. Just in case, I emptied it before refilling for our third and fourth rounds.

After four giant plates, we couldn’t bear the thought of putting any more food in our bellies and headed to Chile Rojo to watch the Spanish belly dancer bare hers. We threw away most of the flyers that were handed to us as we strolled in and out of vendor booths and souvenir shops, but we hung on to that one and we clearly weren’t the only ones. Her show was a big hit with the men and women that lined the bar while she jiggled and jingled through the crowd. I was jealous of her skills (and a few of her other assets) but thoroughly impressed.

With her show ending around 9:30pm, we were spent. We’ve succumbed to the fact that none of us are the party animals we once were. Making it past 10pm without snoozing is one of our biggest challenges here. Not that we need the extra rest. We have a long day of sitting planned for tomorrow since we’re headed back to San Jose to enjoy some city life before Matt’s flight home.

Day 71: Taking it slow in Cahuita

Baby sloths eating their lunch.

I’m often surprised that when Mike bleeds, yellow and green don't flow as well and I'm sure that most of the time his heart beats to the melody of Natural Mystic so Cahuita was a destination that wasn’t picked by accident. We didn’t stumble upon the place adorned with Bob Marley flags, stickers, tapestries, and t-shirts that plays Legend on repeat for 20 out of 24 hours a day. From the Natty Dread coffee shop to the Reggae Bar to the houses painted Rasta colors, you couldn't escape Bob's presence. 

I felt like we weren’t in Costa Rica anymore. While the suffocating heat and blazing sun were the same, the Afro-Caribbean’s look and language are much different than the Ticos we’ve come to know. Rather than translating Spanish, we were deciphering broken English with a Jamaican accent – something Matt and I admittedly suck at. Speak Spanish with a Jamaican accent? Fuggetaboutit.

There’s something else this town had that Mike adores, that I’m sure is news to all of you – sloths. He has a affinity for the goofy wide-eyed, perpetually smiling hairballs. When we drove by the Sloth Sanctuary on the way to Cahuita, we knew it wouldn’t be long before we made a U-turn and pulled in their driveway. Of course, that was if we could get out of the hotel parking lot. Yet again, the Jimny thought it was too hot to go anywhere and refused to start. Fortunately, we had a mechanic piled under all the cargo in the back so we dug him out and put him to work. He could only think of one solution - something to do with resetting the battery - and when the fob instantly worked we gave him all the credit.

The sanctuary was founded by an American woman who rescued Buttercup, a now 19 year old sloth. It's a well known and well reputed haven for sloths that have experienced any kind of trauma at any age. So if you ever travel to Costa Rica and stumble across a hurt or orphaned sloth, this is the place to bring it. I'd recommend not trying to care it yourself after it appears to be as complicated as having a mogwai.

After a canoe ride and informative video, we got to see them close-up. Since sloths normally lounge high in the trees, they just look like blobs of shadows whenever they're pointed out by guides so this was cool. We got to come as close as three feet of these very, very slow moving creatures and even closer to the babies where we were just in time for feeding. Tiny sloths laid flat on their bellies with their heads in their plates of veggies and dog food chopping away. They were super cute. The only disappointment was that we couldn’t hold them. Something about germs and biting…whatever. What about our needs, huh?  We paid good money for this.

From there we decided to check out towns further south along the coast. Puerto Viejo is expected to be even more Jamaican-ized than Cahuita and also has a hotel with all-you-can-eat sushi. So Matt’s already decided where we’ll be staying.

Day 70: Caribbean bound

Possible electrocution - the price you pay for hot water.

Sweet ceiling fan.

We got an early start on the road this morning seeing as we don’t know how long it’ll take to get to the Caribbean coast and according to the map, it looks like the furthest trip that we’ve attempted to take so far. After loading the Jimny Cricket with all of Matt’s stuff (since this trip will end at the airport for his flight back home) and our trip gear, we barely fit. Each time we stopped, we made sure the car was parked near us. We weren’t so afraid of anyone breaking in, but rather, a couple of guys picking it up and carrying it away.


Our route required us to climb the same mountainous roads into the clouds that we had previously taken to San Jose with the exception of a detour to the east before we hit the congested city. From there it was a pretty direct route with little need for signage. We refueled with food and gas a few times and made it to our destination of Cahuita in a little under 10 hours.

In a place with no Best Westerns, I’ve learned an important hotel lesson – don't commit to anything until you see your room. After looking at Tito’s Casas, our first stop, I was glad I did. We were brought to a pink room with a double bed and a twin bottom bunk. Amenities included a mosquito net.

Apparently, the Jimny thought it was a fine place to stay. The sun set while we tried to start the car. Since we couldn’t keep the windows down because of the mosquitoes (dusk is feeding time), the windows fogged up, Mike’s shirt slowly became a darker shade of gray with each minute, and Matt got claustrophobic and decided to the battle the skeeters than be trapped in the Cricket (that was after he contaminated the little air we had by farting). Mike’s mood went from irritated to infuriated after 20 minutes and peaked at about the 30 minute mark when the car decided to turn on.


We drove to the next lodge, Hotel Belle Fleur, and while it was as minimal as option number one, the white walls and sheets made it look cleaner. I wasn’t on board, but after the stunt the Jimny pulled, Mike wasn’t in the mood for me to be picky so I sucked it up for the sake of his patience.

Our room was equipped with a desk fan mounted to the ceiling (which worked surprisingly well with the exception of a loud click every time it made a rotation) and hot water heated by some dangerous looking wires connected to the showerhead. None of us chose to use it. We felt survival was more important than a comfortable shower.


After settling in and calming down, we ate some Caribbean grub and caught a glimpse of town. Seeing as it was dark, we figure tomorrow will be better for experiencing the diverse town that’s painted red, green and yellow an accompanied by an endless reggae soundtrack.

Day 69: Rental Car #4 and some local travels

That's it. The Jimny Cricket.

Today we picked up rental car number four. Seeing as the agent only had two cars in the driveway and only one of them was four wheel drive, our decision was made for us. We are driving around in style with the Suzuki Jimny – an “SUV” the size of a Smart Car. Matt described it as driving around in a roller skate. It does the job though and gets us from point A to point B which will be the Caribbean coast come tomorrow.


Before heading there we made one more trip to Parrita so Matt could see our first place. Fortunately, it’s been dry for the most part and the area looked better than last time when it was submerged in several feet of water. We made it to our old digs and Matt was equally amazed at the vast ocean that was once our front yard. It was even prettier than I remember (probably because when I lived there I was blinded by all the unattractive things like cockroaches and crabs). We also caught up with Clint who's on his second week of drying out his mattress.


From there we brought Matt to the tourist area of Jaco which we’d dubbed the poor man’s Miami. It’s just not a pleasant location and I don’t recommend a visit there if you are headed to Costa Rica. I assume it’s high on the tourist lists due to the number of restaurants, bars, and shops. But there’s equally as much sleaziness on each street corner as well and you can barely walk a few feet without a being asked what type of drug would enhance your visit.


The Jimny Cricket wanted us to stay in Jaco a little longer than necessary when it decided to not start. Rental cars here come with a company installed security feature - a magical fob. On our previous rental cars, you had to rub the fob on the key ignition before it would start. This one requires you to rub it somewhere along the steering column. There isn’t a specific spot, which means you just have to keeping rubbing it between the ignition and bottom of the steering column until the lights turn on. It took a good fifteen minutes with each one of us trying our luck before it worked. Maybe it knew we were in Jaco and needed some extra security.


It appears as though our rental cars get increasingly worse as we get them. Our first was awesome. Second, perfectly fine. Third had a leaky door and squealing tire. Now this one. It's the most uncomfortable, the least smooth and apparently the most stubborn. This doesn't sound like a good combination.

Day 68: Traveling muralist and more sushi

These are the two bums that follow me around everywhere I go.
Can't get rid of 'em.

Sun is shining now pretty regularly.

We met Jaime the artist today. He asked through the window if we had a tire pump. He got a flat from the next town over in Dominicalito while riding here to visit his friend, the pool guy. After the pump failed to help him several times, Mike offered the next best thing – his bike. Granted, the handlebars suck and tire leaks, but he could at least get home to get his patch kit. And regardless, if he stole it, well, one less thing we need to leave behind.


Jaime told us that he used to live in the house next door – the one scheduled to be a bar and restaurant someday (most likely four years from now given the tropical work ethic). The interesting thing about him was that he lived there rent free in exchange for his talent. He painted the seascape mural that wraps the bottom of the house. After that, he lived rent free with meals included at the Villas Rio Mar resort while painting their concrete fence. He’s a wandering muralist looking to marry an American lady to get his green card. His only problem is that he falls in love too quickly with each Gringa he meets and has been left by them all after their first time under the covers. Personally, I thought that was a little too much information for a first encounter and probably something he might want to tell close friends (or no one at all). Eventually he left and returned with Mike’s bike, patched his tire and invited Mike to a waterfall (he declined) before he headed home.


While Mike was learning intimate details of Jaime’s love life, Matt made the executive decision that he required one more sushi session before saying goodbye to Dominical. I headed to town earlier than the guys and secured a spot at Maracatu, a reggae bar with big cups of coffee and a solid internet signal, to upload blog entries and look for jobs. That meant Mike and Matt had to come get me regardless of the rain that started about a half hour after I left. You haven’t experienced rain until you come here. Walking through some spurts is as blinding and vicious as getting dosed with a fire hose. Mike took a detour to buy me my own umbrella for the rest of the walk to Dominical Sushi. I told him that was very husbandly of him until he admitted his purchase was purely selfish. He wasn’t sharing his umbrella.


We headed to the restaurant after the rain downgraded to a downpour only to find it closed. Of course. Matt’s boycott list is now cursing all of us just for associating with him. We asked a neighboring business if they knew what time they’d open but he couldn’t help. We waited ten minutes before deciding that the rain was light enough to leave. As we turned the corner, we were face to face with the pretty Tica sushi chef who asked for five minutes before inviting us to her dinner table. Within an hour, we were rolling in salmons and tunas and shrimps with all the right fillings. I have a feeling they won’t ever be on the receiving end of Matt’s boycotted restaurants.

Just an FYI, day number three of poop in the bed.

Day 67: Our very different fitness routines

It's still there.

Even though I’ve boycotted the only fitness routine that has the potential to hold my attention, Mike and Matt have been going strong with their daily workouts. Matt grunts and gives up only to do one more set after Mike taunts him. I told Matt I’m pretty sure this is Mike’s way of bullying him as an adult. When they were kids, he’d pin him on his back, knees holding down his arms and smoosh peanut butter cups on his face. Now he’s forcing him work off peanut butter cups he doesn’t even eat anymore.


My fingers get the most workout while I assume position behind a computer screen which I’m pretty sure is responsible for my recent bout of migraines. I glad to say I’ve managed to avoid migraines my entire life even through the rare times life and work were too hard on me. How I end up getting them here, while taking a timeout from both, is beyond me.

The recent lines in my vision were immediately followed by two things; a headache and a very near anxiety attack when I assumed I must have a brain tumor. Fortunately, with the help of Dr. Web MD and his nurse, Google, I found out I was far off. Apparently, I’m one of the low percentage of folks who get auras before migraines. I feel clairvoyant. I’m actually thankful now for the string of tinsel that dangles in mid-air a foot from my face. It’s my cue to take some aspirin, minimize bright lights and avoid sudden movements.

I’m assuming the computer screen is the culprit but maybe it’s also the extensive reading that my eyes aren't yet accustomed to. My reading list has grown to include some really notable reads: The Time Traveler’s Wife, Running with Scissors, White Oleander and The Kite Runner. I would add Almost Moon to that list but I can’t since I only almost finished it before I left it on our last bus ride. For those of you who took my advice and read the Twilight series (although there’s nothing wrong with indulging in a little guilty pleasure of immortal teenage love), please let me redeem myself and ask you to read The Kite Runner (read it, don’t rent the movie).

I’m still averaging about a book a week and it really has done some good. I’m a better reader now and can see the change in my writing. I didn't believe it but now I realize it's true, a writer’s best teacher really is someone else’s book. I have to admit though, after reading The Kite Runner I’m feeling extremely inadequate as a storyteller. I can't say enough good things about that book.

So what if I’m not exerting as much physical effort as Mike and Matt’s workout routines? I’m definitely keeping my brain as fit as their muscles. I’m sure that can hold me over until we return to our treadmill, which I’ve vowed to spend more time with when we return. For real this time…

Day 66: A mystery pooper and phantom bugs

Something has been pooping in our bed the past two nights. No, it’s not Matt. Seeing as I’ve become familiar with lizard turds, I know what type of creature they’re coming from at least. And I’m pretty sure I know exactly which one. One that’s angry with me. One that’s seeking revenge. One that doesn't have a full tail. Little does he know, he’s pooping on Mike’s side of the bed.


I didn’t know but Matt is something of a gecko expert seeing as he’s had them as pets back in the day. He told me a story about the time his gecko’s tail had also been removed by a woman – although in a bit more dramatic fashion. Against Matt's wishes, she took the gecko out to play but it had other plans. When it ran away, she grabbed for it…only to be left pinching a squirmy tail with no body attached. Matt assured me the gecko was fine and the tail grew back.

So I’m now convinced that the gecko may have survived after I severed its tail. And to add to that, I’ve seen a handful of geckos suctioned to our windows with either no tails or new nubs sprouting up. I have a vested interest in their tail growing abilities so I examine them pretty closely through the glass. I’m thinking it might have had a chance although Matt didn’t recall his gecko being unable to climb, flopped on its back or convulsing after the incident. Maybe this little guy was a bit was dramatic.

Not only is there a ghost pooper on the loose, I’ve also been battling an unidentified species of phantom bugs. They may go unmentioned in all the guide books I’ve read but they can’t be ignored. At times I can sit quietly while writing and see or feel nothing until the itch kicks in and announces the arrival of the new bites scattered from my shoulders to my ankles. No bugs in sight, no tickles of little legs, just pink swollen itchy bumps left behind as proof they exist. On other occasions, I will swat and flinch at nothing for an hour swearing I feel something crawling on my knee, my neck, my arm. I never find what it is, never able to see anything. But I’m always left with new tiny red lumps begging for my fingernails. I have yet to be free of bug bites since Day 1 in Costa Rica. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s just a normal part of life here. I just pray that none of them are carrying any souvenirs for me to take home in the form of a disease and I try to keep scarring to a minimum by prohibiting scratch sessions. But really, if you’re gonna bite me, at least show your face. Coward bugs. That’s all I ask. Well, that and what’s pooping on our bed?

Day 65: It's Pool Time.

A villa at the Villa Rios Mar resort (our neighbor).

The pool and hot tub.
Matt was convinced this was a pee pool since the water was as warm as cold pee.
According to him, it served no other purpose. Hmmm....he was sitting in it for a few minutes.

Crying water fountains decorate the pool.

We almost didn’t go to the breakfast buffet today after Matt’s restaurant curse began before we even stepped in the door. A few days ago, curious and hungry, he had asked to see a menu from the restaurant. He was told by the resort concierge that there was no such restaurant. He didn’t argue because he didn’t know what we knew – there’s a rather large restaurant in the back near the pool past their desk. Surprisingly (and only because we really wanted pancakes and waffles and anything else a breakfast buffet could have) he went back this morning to find out what time breakfast started. The concierge was yet again helpful as always and told him they didn’t know, maybe 7am, or 8am, or 8:30am. He knew it was hopeless but asked when the buffet ended anyways. This time they couldn’t even guesstimate times after their "I don't know" motto.


He came back with a recommendation - hire a couple of monkeys for the concierge desk and put a board next to them with a list of answers they can point to. He’s convinced this would be much more helpful than anyone currently working at that desk. You can always count on Matt to chime in with words of wisdom. Like when he saw the medical clinic for the first time, he made sure we knew that should he get sick take him to the airport before even thinking of taking him to that place.



We decided that we still wanted waffles. Instead, we got pancakes with stale edges, soggy French toast, warm OJ, and diluted fruit. BUT, it did come with a nice side of in ground pool usage a hint of free internet (if we could find the spot) so that made it worthwhile. We spent about four hours there this morning amid the rest of the resort guests. We still don’t know if what we did was allowed seeing as we were just patrons of the restaurant but no one seemed to mind. The only time an employee approached us poolside was to ask if we wanted anything to drink so I’m pretty sure we had nothing to worry about. Even so, if we did get kicked out, we’d just have to walk all of a minute back to our house anyways where a much better breakfast is served on a daily basis.