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.

Day 64: My own personal boycott

With each restaurant that makes Matt’s boycott list we tease him for being stubborn and not allowing for minor, forgivable human errors. But, I should talk…


Being somewhat bored over the past few weeks, I got excited when I saw a sign outside of Bamboo Yoga – a place that has been closed for the rainy season. It announced their grand opening for group yoga sessions and after reading the description of the class, their yoga meditation combo sounded exactly like something I needed. I’ve been really interested in meditation lately and seeing as I literally had nothing better (or else) to do, why not give it a shot? I planned on purchasing a ten class card and psyched myself up.

I gave up on solo yoga a long time ago. I wasn’t motivated to stand in a sticky room by myself doing postures without the guidance of a real instructor or mirror. It’s difficult without the momentum of the class carrying you through each posture. So this was the perfect way to reunite with my yoga mat (if I can pry it from under Matt seeing as it’s recently become his couch – he refuses to sit on cushioned wicker anymore cause it makes his butt go numb).


But the plan went downhill after a new girl came to town. With such a small population, faces are familiar and new tourists are pretty easy to spot. While her face was new, I could tell she wasn’t a tourist. She knew her way around, talked to local vendors, and bargained for coconuts on the side of the road. She also carried herself in a way that highly annoyed me.

Her posture was so good it was actually bad, like she hadn’t fully come out of a back bend before she decided to walk. Her tank top was rolled up to her nipples displaying the floral tattoo that decorated her ribcage. She swayed her hips while parading down the street. She flaunted.

In my head, I did the math. The dramatic posture, the recent opening of the yoga studio, the familiarity of her interactions…she could very well be the yoga instructor. I hoped I was wrong but on my way to inquire about the first class, my premonition stood correct. She was outside of the studio, dressed in formal yoga gear which covered more than her previous outfit, rewriting the studio specials that had been washed away from the rain. I kept walking.

Now, I know how shallow and petty this sounds and I hope you think no less of me because of an honest confession. But I’m confident that my 31 years of interactions have supplied me with a solid foundation to determine compatibility, even if based on only a few characteristics. I couldn’t picture her guiding my mind to stillness. Especially when I have a feeling she probably stretches her words and pierces her Ss.

I guess I can thank her for allowing me a free dose of self-realization though. I like to think of myself as open minded, welcoming and warm. But I guess I can be easily led by an intuition that might be a little critical at times…even a bit hasty. Maybe we can work on that but not with Little Miss Look At Me. I stand by that decision however silly it sounds.

Day 63: Food’s revenge on Matt.

Matt may have escaped some things from home with his vacation here but he’s apparently unable to shake his bad luck with restaurants. His patience with wrong orders and poor service is as non-existent as half the buses we try to catch here. Take too long? He’ll leave and not come back. Mess up his order? He’ll stay but vow to never return.


So far, two restaurants in Dominical have suffered the fate of never getting to feed Matt again. One of which is our regular hangout, Café Delicias, after they forgot to get his coffee. It may not have been so bad if we hadn’t been the only customers in the place but seeing as we were, he took it personally. Now, while Mike and I are at the café, Matt will return home, go grocery shopping or take a stroll through the neighborhood since he refuses to revoke a boycott for any reason.

The second place, SuRaza, disappointed their way to his boycott list by teasing him with an appetizing picture of lobster only to be served a miniature lobster tail with a side of unseasoned white rice. Even though his stomach is smaller now, it still didn’t come close to filling him up and severely let him down. His wallet was left equally as empty after he paid the $20 bill – big bucks in a place where meals typically cost around $3.

The next to go is most likely Rum Bar as I’m sure they’ve missed the list only because they show NFL games on better TVs than our own. After trying to order three different appetizers, he was told they were out of all of them and that about 75% of their menu wasn’t really in stock either. What did they have? Dough, cheese and sauce. And maybe a few slices of pepperoni in the back of the refrigerator if he was lucky.

Fortunately, Matt saved his pizza craving and opted not to eat our freeze dried astronaut version when we were in San Isidro. Seeing as the Rum Bar had the ingredients, he ordered one to go. A half hour later they handed him a Styrofoam takeout container with individual slices of pizza stacked between pieces of foil paper. When he got home, he put them together like a puzzle that was clearly missing a few pieces. Looks like the chef stocked up on some slices for break time.


He hasn’t officially boycotted them but I have a feeling after this Sunday’s Giants vs Eagles matchup they will be added to Matt’s ever-growing list of restaurants that have lost his appetite. Even in Costa Rica, he’s destined to be a frustrated diner. Maybe that’s just food’s way of getting back at him for eating healthy now. Since he’s ignoring them, they’re ignoring him.

Day 62: San Isidro (aka Shoe Capital of Costa Rica)

The first Christmas decorations we've seen.

Surprisingly not a shoe store...but surrounded by 'em.
Mike thought the name of the store was fun.

Matt and I enjoying real cushions.
We spent a little longer than necessary here.

I ordered a tortilla con queso.
I got a cheese pancake (aka instant heart attack).

With 45,000 residents, San Isidro is referred to as a “big city” in comparison to places like our home that boast about, oh I don’t know, 45 residents? So we decided to take a day trip to check out big city life.


It didn’t start as well as we thought it would, of course. Mike dragged me out of bed before 7am (I’m proud to say I’ve actually been able to maintain a steady snooze until 8am most mornings) to catch a non-existent morning bus. With the next bus not being until 1pm – so happy about that unnecessary wakeup call – we opted for a taxi ride. It took under an hour to drop us off in the city filled with nothing but shoe stores.

When we had driven around the complicated city streets on the way to pick up Matt at the airport, we didn’t pay close attention to what was shelved behind all the windows of the stores that lined the streets. We expected cafes, restaurants, boutiques, shops, souvenirs, etc. Instead we found shoe store after shoe store after shoe store. Matt was in luck since he needed new flip flops. At least our trip now had purpose.

The stores range from thrift store selection to Steve Madden knock-offs and amid the unrecognizable stores there was even a Payless. Matt had strict rules with his shoe purchase. They needed to be comfortable, durable and no employee could come within a foot of us (no pun intended). Apparently each store’s security system consists of immediately greeting you upon entering the door and then tailing you while you browse. It annoyed Matt enough that he almost immediately left any store when approached by an employee. They could have had the flip flops of his dreams or offered him a 99% discount and it wouldn’t matter. They irritated him therefore they would not get his colones. After about the 17th store with the same selection under a different name, he finally found his pair. And that concluded the need to stay in this big city any longer.

We headed to the bus station an hour early to catch the 1:30pm bus home only to find out it was also non-existent. With a three hour wait for the next one, we headed to an internet café and surrendered to our recent urge for pizza after their menu seduced us with a tantalizing photo. Unfortunately, the picture of the pizza probably tasted better than what we were given to eat. As Mike so accurately described it, it tasted like it was freeze dried for a few months and meant to be shipped to soldiers overseas. I’m now craving East Longmeadow’s Pizza Shoppe pizza even more than before.


San Isidro did make me smile as I got my first glimpse of Christmas decorations. It’s beginning to look a little like Christmas…which doesn’t feel quite right while walking around in shorts and tank tops and searching for the perfect pair of flip flops.

Day 61: No pool for us.

A coati. Similar to a raccoon. Found anywhere there's food.

The pool was supposed to be completed and ready for a swim yesterday. Seeing as it looks no different than the picture that was posted a month ago, we won’t waste the space posting another one. There has been very little progress made. After talking to our landlord, he informed me that his employee called him and said the weather had been bad for several weeks and he couldn’t work. We’ve lived here for a month and I’ve seen him a total of five times. Sure it rained for a while, but 25 days? No way. I kept my mouth shut though.


Our landlord, Gary, is a talkative surfer dude in his mid-forties who lives someplace in Costa Rica with his Tica wife and baby. He told me he was going to be starting the deck and tiling for the pool while he was here for a week but after several days of lounging on the hammock, I think he really just came to collect rent, catch a few waves and take a break from life. Other than a few pieces of wood tossed next to the pool, there’s no sign of any type of deck being built or any tile laid.

Mike was proud of his electricity monitoring skills when Gary congratulated us on having a power bill half as much as a normal one. He didn’t know how we did it but we must really be conserving electricity somehow. Here’s the trick - after Matt or I leave a room Mike walks checks it to make sure we’ve turned off the fan and light. If he goes upstairs after one of us has come down and we hear our name called out, we know we left something on. We’ve nicknamed him the Light Nazi.

I’ve resigned to the fact that we won’t be swimming steps from our house. Now I’m working on convincing Mike and Matt to go to a breakfast buffet at the resort next to us. I could care less about the eggs…they let you use their in ground pool after you eat for as long as you want. That’s my kind of breakfast.

Day 60: Could it be?!?!

When Matt landed amid buckets of rain, he asked if we knew when the rainy season is supposed to end. I pulled a date out of my butt and said November 15, 2010. Seeing as today is that day and we spent the majority of it bathing in lots of sun under cloudless skies, I’m thinking I might be psychic. Welcome dry season, glad to finally meet you.



But when we got back from the beach, our landlord warned us that storms are brewing in the Caribbean again which means we’ll get dumped on for a few days. That is not good news. Our road is still a muddy mess no matter how dry it is and they just re-secured our power lines and cable. The trees have been cleared and the river is back to green. After the kind of day we had today, it just wouldn’t be right.


From what we’ve been told, certain roads are still not repaired from the last storm and I’m sure plenty of people are still displaced. After we became aware of the flooding of our first town, Parrita, we contacted Clint to extend an invitation to stay at our place if needed. He responded today, after several days of waiting, to thank us for the offer but he had gotten rid of the 20 inches of water in his home. His mattresses are no longer floating and the house is finally dry. His mom also told us that they couldn’t risk leaving their home for an extended period of time as theft has increased drastically due to the condition of the neighborhood. For several days, Parrita was without electricity, water and was severely flooded.


We haven’t often wondered if moving was a good thing. We knew it was. Now we know for sure that we made the right decision. And are so thankful we did.

Day 59: Daydreaming about our first day back...

Today marks one month until we are back in the United States. We’ll be landing in Atlanta, GA on December 14th and will be staying at Matt’s until the 17th when we begin our drive to CT. Here’s a preview of what I plan to do on my first day back.


After waking up in a nice, comfortable king size bed (Matt graciously offered his) I’ll shower with familiar products and scrub my face no less than four times to rid my pores of any mold residue. Then, I’m going to dry my hair. I brought mine here but I have no desire to blow hot air on my head for ten minutes. It's been used once as a clothes dryer.  Not only am I going to dry my hair, I’m going to actually DO it. Here, I have two hairstyles; up and up, either in a bun or in a ponytail. Then I’ll apply makeup. Not much. Just the normal routine that I had to abandon here for fear I’d end up looking like Gene Simmons after my mascara mixes with sweat.

Then I’m going to get into my car and drive to a coffee shop. Sure we’ve spent hours in internet cafes. And yes, we’re in the land where coffee began. But they don’t share it as much as we do at home. They don’t do big coffees here and they don’t do takeout. For avid coffee drinkers like us, it takes all of three minutes to finish our teacups (they can’t even be described as mugs). Matt attempted to get a coffee to go and got a small amount poured in a plastic white solo cup set in a Styrofoam cup used as the sleeve. So I’m going to drive to Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts or both and get a giant coffee to go.

And then maybe I’ll get a little lost driving…just to be able to drive again. (Although, I’m sure that I’ll have enough about four hours into our seventeen hour drive home.)

During coffee runs and driving around, I’ll still be relishing in the fact that I’m wearing jeans. I have yet to wear pants for fear that I’ll never be able to peel them off or I’ll pass out from overheating. Even though it’ll be unnecessary, I think I might even wear my high heeled ankle boots (after I scrape the mold off of them). I’ve been only able to wear functional, destructible shoes since we’ve been here and I plan to functionally destroy them before we leave.

From there, I’ll make a stop at the Red Box and rent a new release. Repeats of Conspiracy Theory just aren’t cutting it. And last night’s new HBO movie, Ghost of Girlfriends Past, prompted a more amusing debate about the demise of Matthew McConaughey’s career than it entertained us.

With enough coffee in my cup to keep me happy, I’ll call Verizon and finally get off this ridiculous international plan and reactivate our internet card. And I will immediately call someone and talk for as long as I want without a delay and without being interrupted by calling card robots counting down minutes before it abruptly disconnects. Of course, I’ll be stationed on the couch for the duration of this call, only to move to take off my heels - maybe.

Before starting the movie, I’ll flip through the channels, all of which I can understand. I’ll even use the digital cable guide and trust it’s telling the truth. And I will open my laptop and go online without being forced to eat or drink at the same time. I’ll check my email, scroll through some Facebook statuses. I’ll even look for a job. All without being rushed by a draining battery and no power source.

And then we’ll go to the mall to most likely start and finish Christmas shopping. I’ll get my fill of the decorations and the songs and the Christmas cheer that I'm already starting to miss. But after a half hour of shoving through stores and standing in lines, i'm sure I’ll be satisfied until next year so we’ll head to the grocery store. I promised Matt I would attempt to make sushi while at his house so I’ll need ingredients. I’ll spend way too much time in each aisle, not because it’ll be like a scavenger hunt, but because there will be so many options I won’t know which to get.

We'll return home, mud-free, with full grocery bags carried only a few feet from the car to the house which is a good thing because I’ll probably have to juggle my second coffee of the day. I’ll be able to put the grocery bags on the counter without stretching and start cooking without standing on my tiptoes.

And while I’ll be excited that I made it through the day without breaking a sweat or swatting a bug, I’m sure I’ll be reminiscing about the beach that was once 10 minutes from my house and missing the warmth that was always breathing down my neck. I’ll be wishing my tan wouldn’t fade so fast and that the sun was around to help it stay a little bit longer. And I’m sure, while dozing on the couch watching a second movie, that I’ll be wondering what happened. How did the vacation I once considered endless come to an end so quick…

Day 58: Matt's sixty mile joyride.

Hopefully Matt’s butt will heal in time for his return flight in two weeks so he can sit on the airplane seat without wincing. About 15 years since his last bike ride, he decided to hop on today and go for a little joyride that got a little too ambitious – a sixty mile journey to and from Quepos - without sunscreen (on the sunniest day he’s seen yet) and without remembering how painful several hours on a bike can be.


Having a few bike rides of our own under our belts, we knew Matt was in for a rough night. We clearly remembered the ache of our legs, the bruised buttocks, the inability to sit comfortably and the overwhelming exhaustion. We’ve also had our share of moments forgetting sunblock. Combine both, and we bet he’d be in bed by 5pm and in pain until Monday.


He first set off at 6:30am with my bike. Even though it’s a boy’s bike, it doesn’t have the same problems as Mike’s loose handlebars, perpetual leaky tire and overall poor construction that made everything break. After getting about five minutes down the road, he turned around and came back. He couldn’t take his knees hitting the handlebars every time he pedaled. He might not be as tall as Mike but he’s definitely not as short as me. He decided to push his luck with the lemon.


He returned around 1pm, and we found him shirtless, groaning after each sentence and sleepy. While we were discussing one of my infamous rides, I was pretty sure he fell asleep standing mid conversation. The tan he was working on, well….it’s now going to need some creative work with sunblock in order to even him out since he was smart enough to protect himself with the only thing he had and kept his t-shirt on. Now he looks like he’s wearing a flesh colored t-shirt. The back of his neck, his forearms and face have lots of color – tinted towards the red hue which I’m sure will deepen through the night. He put a hurtin’ on himself.


Fortunately for him, next week marks one week until we get another rental car to take us exploring. We’re planning on going to the Caribbean side of Costa Rica where the beaches, people and food are supposed to be very different from what we’ve grown accustomed to here in the Central Pacific. In the meantime, we’ll stick to what we’ve been doing: lounging on the beach and around the house while Matt explores himself into exhaustion daily.

Day 57: No escaping the creatures

The three of us are each struggling with our share of creatures that irritate or freak us out. I’m definitely not the only one. This was apparent today when Mike did a nice little jig in the living room after he found a spider swinging from his shorts. He claimed it was “giant” but it was actually smaller than his fingernail. He explained that it seemed much bigger dangling very near his unmentionables. His pictures look much more intimidating than the itsy bitsy spider did in real life. We learned another valuable lesson here though: check not only your shoes but your shorts as well. Never know where these buggers decide to build their homes.

Matt has been prohibited from a few areas of the house due to the creatures that are annoying him. An army of wasps have taken over the balcony adjacent to us – directly aligned with Matt’s. Swinging in his hammock results in two things: the ssssssssss of the Raid can followed by footsteps to the stairwell asking if he can use our hammock.

Since his balcony is not an option and the back steps are in the path of worker ants that could care less if you’re in their way as they walk on you, around you and over you, Matt has resigned to the front steps for his smoking breaks. But the creature that annoys him the most rests there: The Puppy. His visits are daily now, probably encouraged by Mike’s afternoon treats of crackers and fresh water (of which he takes two laps, dumps the bowl and uses it as a chewtoy). Matt’s attempts at relaxing have now been interrupted by keeping The Puppy from eating his cig.

I, on the other hand, have now been haunted by dead creatures. A few days ago, I was the lucky one whose eye spied a mud covered carcass that I refuse to admit looked very much like a cat. I was inches from stepping on it (and in it). Today, I happened to come across a much less cuddly looking giant bullfrog that appeared to have thrown up his insides. Again, seconds before I stomped on it. I’ve done a decent job at remembering where these creature shells are and change my route on the way back to avoid any mishaps. That’s if the vultures don’t relocate them to the other side of the road, as they did with the cat-like creature. Each scream lets Mike and Matt know where not to step.

And even The Puppy has been annoyed by a snake that slithered up to our steps. He’s of the opinion that barking incessantly in the snakes face will get it to leave. It didn’t appear to be working.

Fortunately, there was one visitor that wasn’t annoying but nice to look at. A large butterfly that doubles as an owl's face landed on our kitchen window screen and hung out for a while. We all let that one stay. No swats, no dances, no slaps, no shivers, no screams, no Raid…for once.

Day 56: Sushi fix found

Matt finally got his sushi craving satisfied and I’m happy to say it was a surprising treat. I’m tentative about sushi from an unknown place. I need my sushi to be recommended by someone. I’ll only try a new place if I’ve heard from a valid source that it got their stamp of approval. We can’t really do that here, so we had to wing it.


To Matt’s relief, Dominical Sushi wasn’t closed for the rainy season as some other places are. It’s always been closed because we’ve been checking at the wrong times. It’s only open for dinner starting at 6pm. We’ve determined this must be because it’s owned by a young Costa Rican couple with day jobs. Their sushi was pricy but I doubted it could support them and their eight year old son (I was proud of my ability to understand the Spanish exchange between the owner and a customer that asked his age). They might be able to swing it had their restaurant been able to hold more than eight customers at a time.


We liked the intimate, cozy atmosphere though. It was the size of a sunroom in a house in the US and had a purple velvet cushioned bench that lined two walls accessorized by throw pillows and tree trunk tables. They set the mood with table tea lights and a few funky hanging lamps. It had a small bar area behind which was their kitchen with a regular four burner stove, countertop and cabinets that housed sushi plates and sake sets. They played background music from their cell phone. Our server, a pretty young Costa Rican woman, was also our chef. Now I was even more skeptical. I realized I’m kind of a sushi snob and expect that sushi should be made only by those of the same culture in which it originated.

I was extremely glad to find that I was very wrong. She made large rolls of sweet rice and tender seaweed filled with fresh salmon and tuna, cream cheese and cucumbers. Her sushi not only mirrored that of any Japanese sushi chef’s skills I’ve sampled, she also added a flare of Costa Rica with some unique extras like jalapeno and mango. Let’s just say it not only satisfied our desire for sushi but made us immediately want to eat there again tomorrow. And the day after. And the next day.

In the meantime, I’m still working on perfecting some more Costa Rican cuisine. Patacones (fried unsweetened plantains) are coming out alright – they taste exactly like the ones we've ordered at various restaurants but aren’t as pretty…kind of deformed. Mike attributes it to not having the right cooking utensils. When it calls for a rolling pin to flatten them, I’m smooshing 'em with an empty wine bottle. Hey, I do what I can.

The most recent house favorite is a rice mixture with palmito (Heart of Palm). This rice blend of mushroom soup, seasoned white rice, heart of palm and a few other ingredients make the best rice dish we’ve had here (and it wasn’t even served in a restaurant). As Matt said, it’s “banging.” His stamp of approval has been on every meal so far seeing as he hasn’t thrown up once, not even a gag, and he’s actually finished everything on his plate, even going back for seconds.

My next attempt is ambitious – homemade sushi. I was inspired by this Tica. She made me realize that I don’t have to be of Asian descent to be able to make a mean roll. I may have found the inspiration but I’m not sure I’ll be able to find the ingredients. Now that’s gonna be the real challenge.

Day 55: National Emergency Update

Figured I’d provide an update on the National Emergency that devastated an area of San Jose last week. The nasty weather has finally stopped. It’s been nice, breezy and dry with periods of sun (of which Matt is sure to be standing in after more than one probably equally as pale New Englanders have commented on his pastiness).


On a sad note, the death toll has totaled 23, ranging from 18 to 80 year old victims, with 1 still missing. Newspapers printed memorials to the victims and showed coverage of the funerals that took place over the weekend, during the two designated Days of Mourning the President announced. We didn’t need to understand the language to grasp the devastation to the community. Over 10,000 are still displaced and roads in almost all directions are still closed. One of our favorite and first locations we visited in Costa Rica, Manuel Antonio, is in severe danger of collapse as it residents and businesses are built on mountainside threatening to crumble. They have been encouraged to evacuate until a geologist can confirm the mountain’s safety.


We ran into our rental agent last night and he informed us that he’s bringing his wife and toddler to his home country of Canada for a month as they’ve been without water and electricity since the storms. They live only 10 minutes from us. I guess we’ve been very lucky. And we were complaining about no cable.


Our road has been cleared of the power lines, trees and debris that covered it last week. The river has returned to a low level and the current speed has slowed. The ocean has also returned to normal with the exception of some extra branches washing up on the shore. I doubt our road will look the same again though. It was relatively smooth as clay-like dirt grouted the rocks into a sort of pavement. Now it’s just the bottom of an aquarium with the water dumped out which makes walking without twisting an ankle a chore. Areas where our views were once blocked by giant palms and trees are now completely open. I’d say in a few years, this road won’t exist. A few more seasons of rain like that and it wash into the ocean along with the rest of the chunks it just stole.

Note to anyone interested in purchasing property in Costa Rica: visit first during the rainiest months of the year. Only then will you really know what you’re buying. A land or swamp? House or submarine?  And if you think that you’ll save yourself from the floods by purchasing in the mountains, be prepared to vacation one year and search for your home the next.

Day 54: Our new houseguest - The Puppy

The crotch nipping puppy has found out where we live. He no longer stalks the bushes waiting to attack with his curious needle teeth. He just sits on our steps and waits.


Matt got to meet him for the first time the other day. Mike forewarned him to pick up a stick, which The Puppy continued to chew all the way to our house. That night, he slept on our steps, guarding our door like a watchdog. He had a few scraps with some neighborhood dogs. The bigger one made him yelp for a minute straight which made me not want to see what he looked like when he got back. He got braver when the little yipper stepped approached him. He tried to scare the yipper off, but he forgot whose territory he was in.

Mike played with him a little bit before we went to bed. Which looked an awful lot like an attack as he snapped his jaws at Mike’s face (I think he didn’t like the beard either) and pawed his shoulders while Mike cowered and protected himself. After the playful abuse, we went to bed while he remained on our steps for who knows how long.


We didn’t see him the next day so I guessed he was grounded for staying the night without telling his parents. That was until this morning when he followed Matt, not equipped with a stick, and nibbled his toes all the way home. He attempted to come in the house to find his new chewtoy, Mike, but we didn’t allow that. He was welcome on the stairs, we even moved our shoes and umbrellas for him, but he could do some damage in the house.

After a couple of hours at the internet café, we came home to find him still waiting, laying on the steps. He hurried to greet us and got some love from Mike. I’m not particularly afraid of him anymore. Although he plays viciously, he’s still just playing. There’s more strength behind his large paws and prickly teeth than I like but there doesn’t seem to be any intent to do damage. I’m still a little concerned that he’ll get a little overexcited though.


Fortunately, he’s wearing a collar and even though it doesn’t have information, it does mean that he belongs to someone. Thank goodness. Especially since Mike admitted today that he’s pretty sure he loves puppies more than basketball. If he wasn’t already taken, there’s a good chance he’d end up being Marley’s much bigger little brother.

Day 53: The surf is over...

I’m pretty sure Mike knew he wasn’t ever going to be a professional surfer. He only recently came to the realization that he probably isn’t going to be an avid recreational surfer either…at least not in Costa Rica. The waves won. I’m not sure if he ever had a real chance seeing as he and his board didn’t make the best team. With that, he traded his Wave Magnet in for a body board – a sport he’s good at and enjoys a whole heck of a lot more than a hobby that resembles wrestling an alligator more than riding waves.

It was a good decision anyways now that he has an ocean buddy to hang out with. Not being the strongest swimmer, I haven’t really played around much in the ocean due to dangerous rip currents and intimidating waves. I go in as necessary – either to cool off or to pee (we all do it, come on now).  I never hang out in water above my waist. I’m more interested in 1) keeping my bathing suit on 2) not getting sucked out to sea 3) not breaking bones after being slammed by a wave and 4) staying alive.

Now that Matt’s here, Mike has someone to hang out with in the water and it would probably be kind of boring for Matt to watch as Mike's board tosses him into the ocean repeatedly. Seeing as the river’s mouth empties in the ocean, after a week of storms, the ocean now resembles a massive river with a rocky floor, brown waters and little salt (the only perk). Matt even admitted that he's never been thrown around by an ocean this much before. His day in the water ended when a wave bullied him out by picking him up by his trunks and slamming him on the ground face first. His big toe was also beginning to bruise from kicking a boulder beneath the water and his pinky toe was bleeding after a crab locked onto it. 

While Mike was riding waves and Matt was getting abused, I stayed behind to finish up the laundry that was started at 7am with the sight of sun. With dry breezes and only a few clouds in the sky, every inch of our balcony rails and clothes lines were filled with much-needed freshly washed towels, sheets, and undies.

We were also happy to have the return of cable along with the sun. While the NFL games didn't come in great, we couldn't complain after several nights of card games and downloaded reruns. Matt's vacation is finally on track. There's only one more thing he needs - sushi. We turned him on to the raw rolls before we left and he's been craving more ever since. He'd be in luck if the chef at Dominical Sushi ever decides to work...

Day 52: No more rain but we're still wet.

After a full week of rain, the entirety of Matt’s trip so far, the rain finally stopped. We awoke to mist that lingered for a few hours and then it finally ran out. It decided to leave the humidity behind though and we still have yet to see the sun.


I’m not sure if the stickiness has gotten worse, or if a few days in the fresh mountain air reminded me of how easy it is to breathe. Or maybe it has gotten worse. We’re noticing effects that we hadn’t seen before. It’s not only smothering us but it’s wrecking our things. Mike’s belt has turned from brown leather to green and blue fuzz. My sneakers are no longer black felt, but gray. At first glance, it appears to be dust (which would make sense since they’ve only been used once since we’ve been here) but it’s not, it’s the first stage on its way to looking like Mike’s belt. The jeans and pants I brought that have sat in the closet are now accessorized by spots and the couch’s cover is developing new patterns on the back of it.

Not only does it look gross, it feels worse. Imagine laying on bed sheets that feel like they were prematurely taken out of the dryer a good 15 minutes too soon. Our pillows are moist sponges – one of which was already victimized by mold and had to get tossed. Last night, Matt slept in a sweatshirt, with the hood on, just to keep his head and body dry. Did I mention that it’s really gross?


We can’t do laundry in this type of weather either seeing as our dry clothes can’t even be considered dry anymore. There aren’t any Laundromats here but there are laundry services that will do it for you. We’ve contemplated using one but are hesitant since I read most charge per piece of laundry, not load. That could get pretty expensive. So, the washing machine is preloaded and ready to go at the sight of sun.

My skin hasn’t enjoyed this constant clamminess either. I have some sort of breakout that’s dormant under my skin from my forehead to my neck. You can’t see it unless you get up close but I can feel it – hundreds of little bumps just sitting there. Heat rash? Humidity induced acne? I don’t know. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if my forehead erupts in mold…