We’re on, what we hope is, the final day of rain. Matt decided he’d like to venture out for a walk to witness any new damage from the overnight rains that continued to flood the area. He suited up with his poncho, a garbage bag skirt to cover his shorts since none of our ponchos are long enough, and an umbrella.
For those that don’t know, I have a serious case of the worry disease. In most situations, I uncontrollably visualize the worst possible scenarios. It makes me crazy most of the time but I also find it beneficial since it gives me the comfort of preparation in the event my warped fantasies transpire. After four hours, I was doing my best to repress any visions of Matt caught in a landslide or trapped in the river current. After five hours, I wasn’t the only one worried and seeing as Mike thinks my worrisome thoughts are often ridiculous, that made me even more worried.
We would’ve felt a little more at ease if he had followed some important ground rules that we live by while abroad; always carry your passport, our phone numbers and who to contact in the event of an emergency, and some money. We realized that he left with none of the above. He left with the one thing he thought he needed – smokes.
Seeing as our rental car had already been picked up, we were without wheels to scope the town for any sight of his bright blue poncho and green skirt. It was still daylight so Mike decided to get into his rain gear and see if he could find him. And left me at home to worry about my two guys walking around in who knows what direction, on unstable roads, teetering trees and rivers gushing from areas they don’t belong. I called my sister for some panic control but seeing the worry genes were passed along to both of us (thanks Meme!) her consolation was pretty much a reiteration of my worried anger (but kept me distracted…so thanks Shan).
About a half hour after Mike left, a blue poncho strolled up the driveway and they hadn’t crossed paths. I calmly explained to Matt what he just put us through while my sister did the yelling for me on the phone in the background. I spared him her lecture and opted for guilt as I told him his brother was now searching for him because I wasn’t the only one worried.
As a novice worrier – Mike wasn’t as experienced at managing the various scenarios that fueled his search. To my surprise, he had more things going through his head than me. He shared them with me:
What if he got too close to the river and slipped in? Or if he was standing next to the river and the land gave out? What if he found a hiking trail and got lost? Or got bit by something? What if he met some people that he thought were cool but they weren’t and kidnapped him? What if the police picked him up and he couldn’t explain anything to them (it’s illegal here to walk around without a passport)? What if he passed out since he was gone so long and hadn’t eaten? He could be on the side of the road. Or someone could have brought him to a hospital somewhere. What if he got hit by a landslide? Or debris? What if he walked too far along the beach and got trapped by the tide? What if a car lost control and hit him? He even went so far as to wonder if the locals who said they didn’t see him really had and were holding him hostage somewhere. Welcome to the World of Worry Michael…be careful, it’s very easy to get lost in there.
The real story of Matt’s adventure was less eventful than any of the scenarios, thankfully. He walked down one road and couldn’t pass because the river flooded it so he decided to walk the opposite way into town. The majority of the time lapsed when he saw some locals trying to unclog a drain system under the road that wasn’t allowing water to pass through. He asked if they needed help and they did so he got his hands dirty and helped dig out the drain. From there, he decided to continue his walk into town, going as far as he could go in either direction on the beach. When that wasn’t enough, he strolled down the main road to the next town over. Even though he lost track of time, he realized he had gone pretty far and even admitted that he was afraid we’d be worried about him.
The guilt trip worked and he felt bad that Mike had went looking for him and even contemplated going out again to find him. He was worried he’d be mad but I assured him that the relief would probably outweigh any anger. And I was right. As Mike strolled up the driveway to see if he was home, he smiled, comforted that his brother didn’t have a starring role in any of the scenes in his head.
I clearly explained to Matt the rules of wandering off alone in a foreign country. Hey, as long as he lives under my roof, he needs to follow my rules. Isn’t that how it goes??
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Day 50: Costa Rica's National Emergency
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| This road is actually perfectly paved...not a dirt road. The mud is from the mountain to the left after a landslide. |
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| This was a massive hole between the highway and a home. The red wall is built on the edge of their driveway. |
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| The bridge collapsed here, causing them to rip up the road and rebuild. They've been working on this for several days. There's no way around it - that line of tractor trailers has been there for days as well. |
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| Our river and newly fallen trees. |
We drove about 10 minutes before our first stop. Mike parked and checked it out. A landslide had either pushed a pickup truck into a hole where he was stuck or he poorly tried to navigate himself through the muddy waters. It would be a long time before anyone could pass so we turned around. Yet again, another place Matt will have to wait and see. We might have to start keeping a list.
The only other options were to drive the same route as yesterday or explore the opposite direction. Seeing as the roads were barely driveable 24 hours ago and the rain hadn't let up, we were certain that wasn't an option anymore. We headed in the only direction we could go. Twenty minutes later, we were at a dead end, blocked by bulldozers and no road.
We headed for the only place we could go - home - and were welcomed by a power outage. We decided to go into town for some food and internet. We noticed that the businesses with TVs were all tuned into the same thing; live footage of destroyed homes, cracked pavement, massive holes, gushing water and devasted people. I immediately googled Costa Rica and found headlines of this nature:
Escazu Landslide Leaves 20 dead; 10 missing
While Escazu isn't very close to us, the affects are hitting close to home. You cannot drive more than 10 minutes without evidence of falling land. Costa Rica is supposed to be declaring a State of Emergency within the next few hours.
While watching the news reports, our old town of Parrita shared the spotlight with the landslide. The tressel next to the bridge we drove over yesterday had collapsed and the cemetery's graves were no longer visible. After seeing the conditions of the road yesterday, only a quarter mile from our old house, and the news reports of the severe flooding today, there's no way our first home isn't flooded right now. It's amazing, sad and scary.
So, we're trapped. Each direction out of our town is blocked by flooded rivers, undriveable roads, fallen trees or immobile vehicles. We've received 18 inches of rainfall in 48 hours and it's expected to continue until tomorrow. Fortunately, our town has some great restaurants, bars and cafes that still function and we're spending our time in them. Guess Matt had some good timing...
Day 49: Over the river and through...more rivers
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| The bus stop at the cemetery. |
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| Flooded homes in Parrita. |
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| Driving through rivers. |
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| Chunks of road missing. |
As we drove, we realized that rain must have continuously poured from the day we left (although it was sunny) without stopping. We drove in the dark through a river in the road and found even more trees and power lines down in our town (we realized later they were probably cable lines since ours is out). With some careful maneuvering over new potholes, fresh drop-offs, branches and puddles, Mike got us to our house and Matt got to see his bedroom with a view and balcony with a hammock.
This morning, still mid-rain, we decided to show him our first house and the infamous road that consumed the majority of our first month in Costa Rica. He got to see more than we expected when daylight illuminated the newly fallen trees and the fast moving river spilling into an even narrower road. I’m hoping the road survives the rest of the time we have here since it gets smaller with each storm.
As we drove toward our old town, we had to pass the same river that flooded our route last night, in addition to three more. The coffee-colored water gushed over and under the roads, taking chunks of land, pavement, trees and road signs with it. Cars lined the area where the water met the road knowing they couldn’t pass after seeing one too many stall, need a push, or get towed. Luckily, we had an SUV and just made it safely across behind the rest of the trucks.
The last time we saw Parrita flooded, it was a big deal. This was an even bigger deal. (If you don’t recall, we were told the bridge hadn’t flooded in 9 years. It has now flooded twice in a matter of a month.) Homes had water a foot higher than their welcome mats and cemetery graves were completely submerged. If you sat at one bus stop, your legs would be underwater from your knees down. Galoshes would be equivalent to wearing buckets.
We passed what we thought was the worst part until we were a quarter of a mile from our first house. The water was as still as a pond with no current threatening to relocate our car but it got deeper as we inched forward. I was the first to recommend another day for our visit. Matt seconded the motion except he warned Mike to reverse quickly before water started seeping in the car doors. Even that made him nervous (in turn making me nervous since no one wants to hear the mechanic is nervous) since the water would be pushed into the exhaust. With his expertise guiding Mike, we reversed to shallow water, turned around and exhaled. We have a month to show him our old place…if the rain lets up.
Instead, we took a quick trip to my favorite grocery store, Mas x Menos in Jaco (about an hour and a half from our town) to get some much needed ingredients for the new mouth to feed. Seeing as Matt has a newfound love for Costa Rican cuisine, I invested in a recipe book to bring more home cooked specialties to our dinner table. Next on the list are arroz con pollo, ceviche and patacones (fried green plantains that taste potato-ish if cooked correctly). Seeing as he’s a picky eater and has a serious gag reflex when he dislikes something (I’ve seen him regurgitate tofu), it’ll be easy to see if my food makes the cut.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Day 48: Ziplining. 'Nuff said.
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| Not happy about suiting up. |
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| The group - with the least compassionate guide on the left. |
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| Matt, mid turn (you aren't supposed to do that.) |
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| Mike, happily flying in. |
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| Check out the broken rail on the platform behind us. Matt almost leaned on the missing piece and the other one fell off when we walked away. |
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| Finally smiling during flight. |
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| Mike's Tarzan Swing (he's screaming here). |
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| Superman. |
I was really hoping the start of my day wouldn't set the tone for the rest of it seeing as I dumped practically an entire glass container of sugar (the ones you see at diners with the silver lid with the flip door that lets the sugar out). Apparently, someone didn't screw the cap on properly and seeing as the owner charged me for another coffee - even though she clearly saw it was the sugar's fault - I'm thinking that's how she makes a few extra bucks. I just hoped that was the extent of today's bad luck since ziplining was next on our list.
The weather wasn’t great. It had already rained steadily and even though it stopped, the clouds hadn’t cleared. We thought about cancelling and trying again at another place some other time but we had already built up the cajones to do it, so figured we'd suck it up. We got picked up by Extremo Adventures bus with two other tourists in tow. I had the same feeling in my stomach as I did when I was twelve waiting in long lines at Six Flags. A half hour later we were suiting up with butt and chest harnesses, garden gloves with leather palms as thick as two belts and plastic helmets (which were stinky by the way).
While they strapped us in, I thought it was a good idea to tell them I was nervous. Here's how well those conversations went:
Me: I’m scared.
Guide 1: Me too.
Me: I’m scared.
Guide 2: Don’t be scared. This is 100% safe. Sometimes.
Funny guys. Just what I needed. But really, it was. They lightened the mood and downplayed any anxieties by making you just let go.
After a few key instructions on how to properly ride a zipline, we walked the metal staircase to our first line for practice. I went first. Even though I was scared that I was going to land on the next platform with a load in my pants, standing on those small rickety platforms not connected to anything scared me more so I opted to get off as quickly as possible. Even if I was the first on the next platform, I was distracted by the ride and watching Mike and Matt fly in. I survived the first glide to the other side and have to say it wasn’t all that bad. The next, a little better, the one after that – a little longer – and way more of a rush. But at no point did my anxiety or fear subside.
I had thought that rappelling was an optional adrenaline rush but apparently, it was the only way down to the next area. Again, I went first. Half by choice, and more by the pushy guide who strapped me in while I objected and expressed my dislike for it. To my surprise, it was easier and less scary than zipping. And just so you know, Matt protested having to do this one more than me.
My favorite example of our guides' lack of empathy was when we got to our second “activity” - the Tarzan Swing. You freefall 126 feet from the tower attached to a rope and swing through the trees (kind of like bungy jumping without the bungee). Matt and I had already decided that rappelling was enough adventure for us. Mike followed our guide, the least compassionate one, to the edge of the platform and watched him tie ropes and fix carabineers - just out of curiousity. Mike assumed the guide was going first, as they had been doing for each zipline. So he was completely thrown off when the hook got attached to his waist with no conversation other than "hold here" and he was shoved off the platform.
You guys know Mike, he's not a big reaction guy. Pretty mellow, calm in all situations, even stressful ones. So I was equally as surprised when I heard a gargled, extremely loud, “oh my God” dragged out from his gut through clenched teeth. Even though I got my adrenaline rush by watching my husband get tossed off a treetop, I also found the uncontrollable noise that came out of him hilarious. I recorded it to memory and get a chuckle every time I replay it in my mind. After seeing what happened to Mike, Matt and I hid behind a tree far, far away from the guide.
The guides were a little more understanding about my decision to not be insane but they were a bit harder on Matt. They pressured him but he wouldn’t waiver. So they nicknamed him "Chicken" or the Spanish version "Pollo" for the rest of the hike and bawked at him every two minutes.
To make up for his failure to jump, he went first on the Superman. It was kind of optional, but you had to make up your mind before hiking there and seeing as I was managing the ziplining ok, I hadn’t tossed out idea. It was the longest line (1 full kilometer) and you didn’t have to do any work - no leaning back, no legs crossed, no braking. Just lay face down, legs in strapped to keep your entire body straight and parallel to the zipline, and keep your arms out to the sides while the guides do the rest. I don't know what's more amazing - the views, the ride, or the amount of trust we have in strangers and a single cable and hook.
In the end, we all did it and survived. At times we could see the views above trees and forests. Most other times, it was like someone standing three feet in front of you with a fog machine aimed at your face. I personally think it may have helped to not see how high up we were. Either way, it was still pretty cool to be flying in the clouds and pelted by mist. It was the craziest experience of my life. Call me crazy but I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again.
The hikes in between the platforms made the rides on the zipline welcomed though. It was like climbing several steep mulch and leaf covered stairways and when I wasn’t afraid of slipping on a wet leaf and rolling down the mountain, I was busy catching my breath before taking flight again. I was doing alright though and didn’t put up much of a fight until we hit the rappelling area.
Day 47 PART II: Coffee history and caffeine fix
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| Unshelled beans actually look like a peanuts - pre roasting process. |
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| Matt picking coffee berries with our guide. He's considering a career change. |
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| Pounding the skins off the dried beans. |
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| Enjoying the reward of his hard work. |
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| Coffee berries on the trees. |
Matt took an active role in the coffee process by trying his hand at coffee picking with a nice basket attached to his waste, shelling them, pounding the skins off the bean and creating sugar cane juice. We also learned that dark roast coffee (which we all enjoy more) has less caffeine than light roast since the beans are left in the roaster longer causing them to lose caffeine the longer they roast. Apparently, we all enjoy burnt coffee the best because that’s all dark roast is. He explained that Starbucks’ traditional coffee comes from various countries and the way they make it taste the same no matter where it’s from is by burning the beans. When they do that, the distinct flavors subside and the coffee all tastes the same – burnt (or bold as they like to call it). At the end of our trip we got to enjoy as much coffee as we wanted along with some traditional treats like arroz con leche (a type of rice pudding), chocolate covered coffee beans and a mini bean and cheese empanada.
When booking our coffee visit, we were also provided information on one of the best ziplining company; Extremo. Supposedly they have the longest ziplines in the area with some extras like rappelling, a Tarzan Swing, and the Superman line – a new method of ziplining where you’re strapped horizontally, belly down by two hooks on your back so you fly head first, arms out like Superman, to the next platform. I’ll pass. I’m pretty sure I’d be flying in the fetal position the entire way.
I don’t know why or how this happened, but we booked our ziplining flights for tomorrow morning, me included. We passed on the 8am adrenaline rush (I don't that's what I want to do first thing in the morning) and went for the 11am ride. Plus, I get to live a few hours longer.
If you’ve read this blog regularly, you’ve probably noticed I’ve been freaked out by many things: bugs, frogs, crabs, bats, waves, power outages, you name it. This is probably the most freaked out I’ve been, not just in Costa Rica, but in my life. And I have no one to blame but myself...
Day 47 PART I: A scary treetop stroll (for me...)
Since we are in the town where ziplining was born, we can’t leave without checking that off our list. But today I realized that I might not be able to do it. A bridge that was as wide as three of me and as solid as any bridge in the treetops could get, did not give me a good feeling never mind being harnessed to a single cable flying at speeds of up to 40mph at trees. I was really excited to zipline when I was just reading about it. Now that I actually have to do it, the excitement has turned to pure fear.
Following our tree walk, we headed to a local restaurant for some home-cooked meals and booked our next stop - a tour of a local Don Juan Coffee Plantation to see how the beverage I can’t live without is made.
Day 46 Part II: We survived the road to Monteverde
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| The lagoon surrouding the volcano |
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| A lonesome dead tree in the meadow |
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| An attempt to take a picture of the road. Couldn't help the blur. |
Being Matt’s first experience on these types of roads, he was equally amazed and appalled. We all agreed that the worst part was the stretches of dirt moguls. I couldn’t help but laugh as Matt uncontrollably spewed prayers and curses in the back seat while dodging concussions. My favorite of his observations was when, without joking, he wondered how babies are driven around on the road since this is worse than shaking one. He’s confident the ride would induce some sort of brain damage.
The sun set, the road got worse, and the signs were still sparse. Fortunately, the options were slim and it kept us routed in one direction. To add to the stress, the car began to make a very loud clanking noise every time we hit a bump (which was every half a second). Matt, a professional mechanic, really didn’t like what he was hearing. And I really didn’t like the sounds of that. After a brief inspection in the dark, he concluded that it could just be a rock in the heat shield causing the racket. He hoped. (FYI, about thirty minutes later it stopped...he was right...we knew he was good.)
The few times we did question our navigation, we asked a few locals who all pointed us in the same direction. We finally made it, four hours after leaving La Fortuna, and arrived in our next town in the same condition as our last; looking for a place to fill our tummies and lay our heads.
Immediately upon entering their downtown we pulled off to the side of the road to check out the guide for a hotel and was immediately approached by a woman with a brochure for the hotel she owned (as to why an owner would be handing out brochures roadside, I’m not sure). She explained the amenities, we thanked her, and moved along. Further down the road, we pulled over again, only to have a man stop his car, jump out and give us a brochure for the hotel he owned. Then the Lonely Planet warnings started to come to life. Apparently there are scammers in this area that will tell you of “friends” or “family members” that own hotels or tour companies and encourage you to go with them. Now I haven’t figured out what they get out of the scam (since none have asked for money) but it was clear to beware of them and to make smart decisions. We chose to go with neither and continued on our way until we found a small, clean hotel with no other guests (another perk of the rainy season).
While trying to find a good restaurant, we were immediately stopped by local tico Jose, who pointed to the restaurant behind him that his family owns. Sure they do. It looked decent and had food, so it fit our criteria regardless of whose family owned it. When we sat down, Jose noticed the tour brochure I was reading and told us that it was the best company in the town. You know why? Because his familia owns it. What a coincidence.
While eating our ceviche (by the way, kudos to Matt for trying all local cuisine in a matter of 48 hours and loving every bit), Jose came over to chat with us. He asked where we came from so we told him that we were recently in La Fortuna. He asked what hotel. We told him Pura Vida. He was happy to hear that. Know why? Guess who owns it. Jose’s familia. Now it wasn’t the ridiculousness that this was the third place his family allegedly owned that made me start laughing. Wasn’t even the fact that the hotel was a tiny generic place about four hours away on barely drivable roads that made tears roll down my cheeks. It was my tiredness combined with the fact that the owners of the hotel were clearly not tico. I think the Chinese characters on their sign, their first floor Chinese restaurant, their lobby filled with Chinese Jade and golden cats, not to mention the fact that we spoke to them, made it clear to us that they were very Chinese. Jose was very much not. His familia is apparently very diverse.
We decided to book (not pay, just book) a Treetop Walkway tour with Jose’s family anyways since their office was two doors down. So tomorrow we’ll start our day with a walk on suspension bridges higher than the trees…that is if Jose’s familia pulls through with the 7:50am ride.
Day 46 PART I: Hot Springs + Volcano = Very Cool
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| La Fortuna church (where a drug dealer told Mike he could find him any day of the week) |
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| Eco Termales' pools |
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| Best waiter ever Jeffrey making traditional sock coffee for Matt |
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| 45 days in Costa Rica = Mike 1 day in Costa Rica = Matt |
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| The long awaited peek at the peak |
Of course, as with most of our adventures, seeing the volcano didn’t come easy. It was drizzling and dreary this morning which made visibility hopeless, so we decided to hit up the local hot springs first with a trip to Eco Termales. It’s the least expensive and smallest of the thermal pools in the area and was the absolute best thing we could’ve done in the rain. We couldn’t hike, we couldn’t see the volcano and we didn’t want to slosh around the town. We’d be getting wet anyways so why not have it be with naturally steaming hot water? For the first hour and a half, we had four hot pools all to ourselves until a Dutch couple joined us for the final half hour. At times it poured on us, at times it misted and the moment the sun peeked at us, we left so we could catch a glimpse of the volcano. It was a perfect combination of relaxation and recreation and checked one more thing off our to-do list.
Getting a clear shot of Volcan Arenal wasn’t that simple, but as we drove closer we got to see the base which was more than the tree lined mountains we saw before. Since we were hungry from a stressful morning of laying around in pool baths, we decided to eat at local joint, Restaurante Cascajos. As soon as you enter the town of La Fortuna, practically every hotel, restaurant and toilet, claims to have the best view of the volcano. Most are lying. But this restaurant, that didn’t claim to have the best anything had the best everything: food, view, waiter and atmosphere. We had front row seats for the volcano’s anticipated appearance, one of the best casados we’ve yet to devour, and Matt got to try his first Costa Rican sock coffee brewed right at the table. The clouds teased us the entire time with clear blue skies hugged both sides of the volcano but kept the peak hidden behind a thick layer of fog that threatened to stick around. About a half hour after we ate our last bites, the clouds didn’t vanish but became transparent enough to see the plateau-ed peak of the volcano. To be honest, it was nice getting to see it after the journey we had, but the wait was better than the moment. Our waiter not only treated us well, entertained us with jokes and said a prayer for us to get a glimpse of the volcano, he gave each of us a business card and a hug when we left. If you ever go there, refuse to be served by anyone other than Jeffrey.
See active volcano, check. Next up? Don’t know (if you haven’t guessed, we were winging it). But I had read that Monteverde was one of the best places to visit for ziplining and that was still on our to-do list. It was also jam packed with other interesting things to do so we began a very serene, peaceful, pretty drive around the lagoon that lead to the most stressful drive we’ve yet to experience.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Day 45: PART II - Signs, signs, nowhere are there signs...
Maps of Costa Rica are deceiving since a place that looks relatively close can be several hours away. After five hours of driving to the airport, we didn’t realize we were in for another five hour trek to the volcano. Maybe it shouldn’t have taken that long but we were missing some critical components for travelling in the right directions – signs. Without ‘em, it’s very easy to take unnecessary detours and unknowingly backtrack. I guess I can’t say there aren’t any signs. There are plenty of unnecessary signs. When there’s only one road and it can only turn left, a sign will point you left. BUT, when you get to a fork in the road, or a four way intersection, there are no signs to be found for miles and miles. Or if you’re lucky enough to see one, you can bet on it pointing in a direction that isn’t quite clear. If Costa Rica would grant me one wish, I’d say screw the paving the roads, please add more signage throughout the country (accurately placed too). We finally made it through the signless, maze-like roads up mountains, through more clouds and fog that made visibility next to impossible and pulled into La Fortuna after the sun went to bed. We needed to find a place to do the same. After another less than reliable review of a hotel in the area, we went with Pura Vida Hotel. While I have a list of requirements for our hotel stays (i.e. hot water, real windows, clean bed, electricity), we needed one more thing: wifi. Today was the cutoff for the potential Cut Off.
All the driving (and flying) induced travel exhaustion and we went to bed right after dinner with the only vision of this invisible volcano being in our heads since it was hidden behind curtains of clouds and darkness.  |
| Beard Brothers |
Day 45: PART I - Do you know the way to San Jose?
It should take about three hours to get from our home to the airport. We decided to give ourselves two extra hours, just in case the roads happened to be gone or some other act of nature caused a delay. We left at 7am to pick Matt up at noon. We made it to the airport five hours later – right on time, taking two hours longer than expected.
Fortunately the roads were all there although there was evidence of some landslide action along the route. The first delay occurred when a Coca Cola tractor trailer derailed on a sharp curve up the winding trail that lead to the airport. After being parked for fifteen minutes, we were finally able to pass through the one open lane. In the middle of our journey through the mountainous peaks and valleys, we found ourselves cutting through one of the largest cities we’ve seen so far, San Isidro, and had our next delay; a detour when the road unexpectedly became a One Way without warning. Fortunately we avoided an accident and took a bathroom break at the first McDonald’s we’ve seen since we’ve been in Costa Rica. Then we were back to climbing more mountains with views of valleys dotted with isolated homes and farm animals. We went through as many temperature changes as scenery. We had to actually roll up the windows but still kept them open so we could breathe fresh dry air, not steam. I’m pretty sure at the highest point of our journey, we had the same views as Matt as we drove through and above the clouds.Other than delays like bus stops on major highways, the real delay was our arrival in San Jose, a place that both lived up and down to our expectations. There were too many cars, not enough signs, and zero time to figure out where we needed to go. We just got pushed along with the traffic and hoped a sign would be around the next congested intersection. No luck. We finally resorted to asking other drivers. To the left, a taxi driver who claimed he didn’t know where the airport was (really?), to the right, the nicest driver in the city. After realizing he wasn’t going to be able to explain in a language we’d understand before the light turned green (hand signals weren’t going to work with this one), he responded “follow me.” We let him pull in front of us and took his word that he’d get us to where we needed to go without forgetting and guiding us to his house. He navigated us out of the overwhelming downtown traffic and onto the highway that had finally directed us to the airport. At around the same time, Matt was able to navigate through airport customs and the swarm of taxi drivers in his face. We found him pretty easily once he made his way past the crowd and were on our way to Volcan Arenal, one of the top ten most active volcanoes in the world for some possible eruptions, lava sightings and hot springs.
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