Sunday, December 18, 2011

Manic Monkeys

10 Things I didn't know until I lived in Belize:
1. Manatees give the best hugs
2. "Clean" is a relative term--and my standards can get lower than Eladio's.
3. Schizophrenia affects monkeys too.
4. It just doesn't feel like Christmas around here without snow and Reba McEntire.
5. I like holding howler monkeys more than babies.
6. The distraction game of "oh look how much fun I'm having over here while you're over there pouting" works just as well with monkeys as it does with kids.
7. The most potent farts I've ever smelled come from manatees
8. Yucca makes a great tropical Christmas tree.
9. I'd miss my Gringo Parade...a LOT.
10. I'd be this excited to see my family!

I hope finals are being kind and that everyone is safe and warm this Holiday Season. Merry Christmas!

Monday, December 12, 2011

This just in: My Life STILL revolves around a Feeding Schedule

So I'm able to get a little more internet than I expected! Unfortunately not enough to add photos (yet), but enough to record a little of what's been going on in my life in the past week.
Hannah and I arrived to Belize without much fanfare, we breezed through customs (the guys loved Hannah's dreads--everyone kept calling her "rasta girl") and arrived in Sarteneja the same day. We met Paul and Zoe, the directors of Wildtracks, and all their dogs; Lucy, Sally, and Meeko right away. Hannah and I got settled in our little cabana, and got ready to wash off the long travel day. Hannah got a shower in, but as soon as I got my hair lathered up with shampoo, the water cut out. I was able to rinse the shampoo out of my hair while Hannah reached over the top of the shower curtain and dumped the contents of her water bottle on my head. This was not our last experience with waterbottle showers.
Everything here runs on solar power. The lights, the internet, and the pump that draws up well water for toilet flushing and showering. It's been a learning experience, but we've learned that you cannot flush the toilet once the sun goes down if you'd like to brush your teeth before bed. Also if you plan on taking a shower, you'd better do it right around lunch time. However, cleanliness doesn't last long!
Hannah and I are responsible for the feeding of the outdoor monkeys, the peccaries, the deer, and the feeding and entertaining of the manatee. Plus Hannah is working on designing the artwork for the visitors center (to be built...soon?) and I'm busy gathering information to beef up the Wildtracks website, which as you can see, is woefully incomplete. There is never a dull moment around here!

All my little girl dreams are coming true--I'm working behind the scenes in wild animal care! I'm allowed to go into cages, snuggle monkeys, feed a manatee from a bottle--all things I never thought I'd actually get to do! My days starts at 6:30am with the howler monkey feeds, which happen again at 10:30, 2:30, and 4:30. Sultan, Nikki, and Livvy are all around a year old and are still being weaned off humans. Sultan spends the entire feeding sitting on my shoulder, his tail wrapped around my neck, drinking his milk from a syringe. Livvy and Nikki generally ignore me, except for last night. There's a "cold" front moving through, and I think they could tell the night was going to be especially chilly, because Livvy crawled into my arms like a small child and snuggled her head right under my chin! I about died it was so precious. The other 5 howler monkeys that I'm in charge of are all about 2 years old; Eden, Igor, Kofi, Minnie and Moe all love leaves. They love papaya and leaves; Kofi actually starts purring when I bring in a huge bunch! Eden and I got off to a rough start, but now that my unicorn bun has lost its intrigue (her last feeder was a guy) she mostly leaves me alone. Minnie is my favorite of the five. When I'm bent in half sweeping up the cage floor, she flattens herself tummy-down on my back and wraps every limb she's got around my waist. When I stand up to leave the cage--she slowly lets herself slide down the slippery leg of my adventure pants like it's a fireman's pole and plops on the ground. She looks around for a moment, confused "well how did I get here?" and then scrambles up my offered arm, bounds off my head, and perches at the highest possible place to watch me leave.
Twiggy the manatee is my other favorite charge. She's two years old and has been at Wildtracks since she was about two weeks old. I feed her at 7:30 and 4:00 every day, a mixture of milk formula, banana, and vitamins from a bottle, and then I swim with her for about 20 minutes. She's old enough to be living in the lagoon, eating seagrass and learning to be a wild manatee, and when she's out there I'll only feed her in the mornings and use a boat to go out and check on her. However, because of the "cold" front, Zoe decided to keep her in the largest manatee rehab pool because it can be easily heated. In the wild, Twiggy would just swim around with other manatees to find warmer waters, but since she can't leave the lagoon, it's important to keep her warm (too-cold manatees get constipated and their stomachs will twist, like horses). I'm sure she's not too fond of life in the pool, but I love that I get to swim with her! I float around on an innertube, letting her push me up and down the pool. Sometimes we race from one end to the other (I always win) and she seems to really like it when I sing Christmas carols.
Between the manatee and monkey feeds, Hannah and I feed the deer and the peccaries on the property, as well as exercise Neto's horse Bullet (Neto is the caretaker and is away until after Christmas).
In our free time (ha ha) we read out by the lagoon, play with the dogs, and work on puzzles. It's an international place, with volunteers from Italy, Sweden, Canada, and the US. Paul and Zoe are both from England, and there's a troop of 13 boy scouts also from England here doing a service project (building new monkey cages) who keep life interesting. The food is superb, there's a never ending supply of rum and cokes, and I'm absolutely loving life.

I can't wait to see my family in 14 days, and be back in America in 22!

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Internationally Thankful

I borrowed this idea from one of the girls on my program, who decided to put a blog-spin on the 30 days of thankful trend on facebook. It's pretty simple, because there are 30 days in November, I decided to make my own list of 30 things that I'm thankful for.  The are in no particular order and most of them are about Costa Rica.  I know if you are reading this blog, I'm thankful for you! Wishing you peace and love on this holiday!




  1. All of my family at home for your international love.
  2. Costa Rica, for teaching me more about myself than I ever wanted to know
  3. Laura, for always putting goodbyes into perspective--it's never for real, just a "see you later"
  4. Carissa, for being a role model, a best friend, AND a sister all in one. Peremptory thanks for the stats help next semester ;) 
  5. My parents at home for supporting me in all my adventure, and for always including my furry friends in our skypes
  6. Skype, and other technology that allows me to stay in contact with America and all the people there that I love
  7. Los Aguilar, for welcoming me into their home and making me feel like a part of the family.
  8. Annie, Jessie, Katie, Lauren, and Andrea--for knowing me better than I know myself sometimes.
  9. Your guys' parents, for encouraging all our endeavors, and for having 5 houses where I always feel at home
  10. For Animal Science 101, Livestock Production. Without you, I would never have met Elle Lynch.
  11. My roommates here for thinking poop stories are just as funny as I do.
  12. Fieds and Craze, for being the best first roommates a girl could ask for. 
  13. The regent boys (do you guys have a new name yet?), for always knowing how to make me laugh, having beds to sleep in, and being an outlet for the products of my stress baking.
  14. The staff here for being equal parts teachers and friends
  15. Carlos, for being the most patient Spanish instructor I've ever met
  16. Digital cameras, for allowing me to pretend to be a good photographer.
  17. For mothers that send you new cameras when mermaid-ing proves to be too much for them.
  18. Blankets, for their versatility--they're good for snuggling, sleeping, wearing...
  19. For the knowledge that any hunger I ever experience is temporary
  20. Wisconsin beer and cheese--you are going to be oh, so delicious when I return
  21. My grandma's chocolate chip cookies, and for the lady that bakes you. I never realized how much I love both of you until I was 2,500 miles away from you
  22. The simple joy in a mug of ice cream
  23. Learning to enjoy drinking my coffee black--there's something slightly badass about answering "Black, please" when someone asks, "how do you like your coffee?"
  24. Eco-friendly sweatpants
  25. Harry Potter
  26. Not being afraid of heights--dreams are so much better on the top bunk!
  27. Sunsets
  28. Wool Socks
  29. The cooks here at the station, for being so good at their jobs that every meal is like Thanksgiving
    • a) for undertaking the cooking of 90 lbs of turkey so that we gringos can have a "real American Thanksgiving"
  30. The 22 people on this program who bring the party wherever we go

Sunday, November 20, 2011

¿Usted tiene este tour sola, si?


Mi casa

As I type I’m actually living back in gringo-ville. We left our families on the 17th and quickly took over the station once more! I love living with my friends again (it’s kind of like summer camp, and who doesn’t love summer camp?) but I really miss my family. I spent my last week riding around all of Monteverde and learning about the behind the scenes action that goes into making tourists happy. Things get really complicated when people cancel horse tours last minute—don’t ever do this if you can help it. You cause many people a great inconvenience—and money. I also got to see how tight-knit the community of Monteverde really is. One day we were supposed to take a family of 9 on a tour, and although Cristobál has 13 horses, 7 of them are off in some mystery pasture that I never got to see. In order to accommodate this family of 9, Cristobál called on cousins and friends—instantly his horse herd grew to 11. Another day, while already on a tour, Cristobál got a call saying that there was going to be another tour that afternoon. These tourists wanted to their tour at the exact time we were supposed to finish the tour we were currently leading. From horseback, Cristobál organized the gathering and saddling of his three other horses by a friend. 
That's my host dad, and the lead horse is Pamela.
That rope is connected to my HAND.
After dropping off the tired horses we had just used, we swung by this mystery friend’s house, where the 3 horses were waiting in the front yard. Cristobál tied the horses together, reins to tail, and passed the reins of the lead horse to me. Cristobál drove and from the back of the 4-wheeler I towed the horses. It was a bit like walking a dog (that was never trained by Jim Berglund) with one of those retractable leashes—your arm gets jerked all around, and you’re constantly taking in and letting out the leash, I mean, reins. Oh and the “dogs” weighs somewhere around 2,500 lbs collectively.
Once again I found myself using the phrase that has become a common part of my vocabulary this semester—this is not real life.
I was sitting on this
On a different horse adventure, I found myself riding with a Vietnam veteran from who was truly a global citizen (Cristobál was there too, although he kept trying to get me to guide the tours by myself--it was his favorite joke). The man’s father had worked for the US State Department, and he had spent his first 18 years of life living in 7 different countries! He spoke English and Spanish fluently, so most of the ride took place in hilarious Spanglish. He was convinced that I needed to marry his son, and both he and Cristobál found hilarity in my refusal; “Los novios son demasiado trabajo.”

Looking out over the Pacific Ocean
If I was a tour guide, all my
ponies would be pretty!
I spent my last week with the family, playing with (read: getting bossed around by) Christopher and bonding with Elieth and Katerine over Combate. Combate is my new favorite TV show—it’s like if the Real World: Road Rules and Wipe out had a baby—that would be this show. It’s hilarious and a great way to learn Spanish! I’m hoping that I get to see them this week, and maybe even go with Cristobál on a tour tomorrow. But it’s also finals week around here, and balancing my two lives here isn’t easy…the horses win every time!

The thing that really shook me about leaving is how close my semester here is to ending. I can remember so vividly the anticipation with which I looked forward to traveling here, thinking when I arrived how far off my homestay sounded. I have really grown to love this place, and all the people here. The 22 people that were complete strangers in August have become an extension of my family in a few short months, and saying goodbye to them is going to be extremely difficult. But, I’m thankful for technology. As exasperating as it can be, however detrimental to society the experts say it is, I am grateful it will enable me to stay in contact with my friends from here with ease. Even my host cousin and I are facebook friends! However, speaking of technology…
We have approximately a week left here in Monteverde, and then we hike to the Arenal Volcano, take a bus to San Jose, and go our separate ways on December 1st. I’ll fly to Belize with my friend Hannah on the 3rd, and I have no idea what the internet situation will be there. I’ve been told that at the Manatee Sanctuary where I’ll live there is enough to check e-mail occasionally, but probably not enough for facebook, and definitely not enough to upload blog posts and photos. There might be an internet café in town? There might be a touristy place with some wifi? But it’s the Caribbean coast, life is pretty Pura Vida, and I’m expecting little to no internet. So, this is probably the last post for awhile, but I promise to share details when I’m back in the grand ol’ U.S. of A!
This is my puppy. He's a 6-month old Boxer-Rottweiler mix. Dad
you would have been obsessed with him!

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Machetes, Materia, Manigordos, oh my!

So basically my host father is a Monteverde celebrity. He knows everybody. And everybody knows him. Every single person has a “Hola Cris, Pura Vida!” for him as we drive past on the 4-wheeler. So it came as no surprise that Cristobál just happens to be bff’s with the host grandfather of one of my compañeros, Jake. This host grandfather just happens to be Maximo, the owner of Rancho San Giraldo, which just happens to be a perfect little finca in the middle of the Cloud Forest Reserve. Last weekend I jumped in the back of a pickup and went with Jake, his host mom, and his 3 host siblings out to Rancho San Giraldo. Jose Pablo is 11, Fiorella is 9, and Catalina is 7. They have been attending the Quaker School since kindergarten, so all of our conversations were in some pretty hilarious Spanglish. Not shy at all, they immediately started calling Jake and I novios, farting, and treating me like part of the family. It was great. Maximo met us at the trailhead with his own 4-wheeler and, to my delight, 3 horses! Chipopo, Materia, and Paloma took Jake, myself, and his sisters all the way to the ranch. I was already pretty much obsessed with how my life was going at this point…and then we arrived at the ranch.
 
Once upon a time, Maximo and all of his brothers all had their own little fincas in the San Giraldo Valley. Since that day, all of his brothers have sold their land to the conservationists, and their plots have grown up in to some beautiful recovering rainforest. However, Maximo said “like hell” to the conservationists, and kept his land. Mostly Maximo lives there on his own, but occasionally groups of hikers pass through, and he can play host to up to 30 people, like Eladio.
Myself, Maximo, and Catalina with Rancho San Giraldo in the background
Never have I ever been so sad not to have a camera (thanks to Jake for the pictures!). Mountains of perfect trees surround his 100-some hectare finca. It’s rolling pastures host his 5 cows and 3 horses. He also has a garden with several potato-like plants, pineapple, sugar cane, some miscellaneous citrus fruits, and a chicken coop (which will be filled with chickens in the coming months…Maximo and his dog, Q, got hungry and ate all the other ones). There was a wood-burning stove in the kitchen, which always had a pot of gallo pinto on it. The living room was a giant porch with walls up to my hip, and then completely open until the ceiling.  Large rolled plastic sheets hung from the edges of the roof, and could be dropped down to form “windows” when it rained. Although there were two large bunk pressed up against the living room wall, and two more bedrooms with bunks and regular beds, Maximo told me that many groups simply rolled out the massive foam mats he kept on a top bunk, and slept in the open-air living room in a big pile. I can only imagine how much fun our group would have had!
Soon after lunch we donned our swimsuits and hiked out to a “pool” in the river that ran through the finca (did I mention that Maximo built his own hydroelectric pump and uses the pure spring water for drinking, bathing, clothes washing, and his own electricity?). However, this pool wasn’t really a pool so much as it was an area of the river where the current slowed slightly and the rocks weren’t too sharp. Much to my shock, Maximo happily threw himself off the edge of the trail and into the river. I swear, the man might be about 68, but he lives like he’s 17.  We spent a good half and hour jumping in to the river and letting the current carry us downstream, and then climbing back up again. Although the kids were wearing lifejackets, my lifeguarding face was on. Everyone got thoroughly chilled, and then we headed back to the farm, following Maximo and his ever-swinging machete.
After dinner, while Jake and I were playing some mystery card game with his siblings, Maximo pulled a stool up to the table.
“Do you two drink?” Maximo asked us in his mumbly old man Spanish. We looked at each other and slowly nodded. He raised his eyebrows, “Do you want to sleep well tonight?” Both of us nodded emphatically. Maximo smiled, pulled out a bottle of Rum, and three Dixie cups. He then proceeded to pour the three biggest traigos that I’ve ever seen in my life. Instead of registering the look on my face as shock at the magnitude of the shots, Maximo jumped up (“oh, naranjas!”), grabbed an orange from the bag we had picked that afternoon, and put a slice next to each Dixie cup. He cheers-ed Jake and I, and swallowed the entire thing in one gulp. Jake and I looked at each other, and back at our Dixie cups apprehensively.
We took our medicine, sucked every drop of juice out of those oranges, and after a few more rounds of cards, slept like babies!

The next morning we packed up our stuff after breakfast, and headed out. Catalina and I rode Paloma, Jose Pablo took “his” horse Chipopo, and Jake grabbed Materia. Riding with that little peanut made me think of all the times I rode in a saddle with you, Auntie Jean. I have met so many people that are afraid of horses because of some scarring experience when they were little, and I always feel so bad for them. I think too bad they never had someone like my Aunt Jean! I don’t think I could ever thank you enough for giving me such positive experiences with horses from a young age.
After an hour or so Materia was getting real feisty, the path was clear, so Jake gave Materia a little more rein. That was the only signal the little horse needed to take off! They went flying down the path and disappeared. Not 15 seconds later I heard a “oh SHIT!” coming from up the trail. I immediately pictured Jake thrown from his horse, dangling in a tree by his backpack strap (pretty sure that worst-case-scenario imagery came from you Mother dear…)
I nudged Paloma into a trot and called for Jake. No response. Obviously that sent the Joan-imagination in me into overdrive. Just as I was about to call out again, Jake and Materia came around the corner at a gallop, fully intact. But before I could breathe a sigh of relief, Materia put on the brakes and Jake…well Jake didn’t. He went over Materia’s head and on to the ground. Not fazed in the slightest, Jake brushed himself off, “I saw a jaguar! I saw one I swear!” Materia shook her head at him and trotted away. I barely understood Jake’s story (he was speaking Spanglish, for the benefit of his siblings) but apparently he and Materia had been going along at a nice clip, when all of a sudden a jaguar crossed their path! This was the point at which Jake had yelled. Then Materia had wheeled around and took off back towards our group. After calming down Catalina, who was then convinced that we were all going to get eaten by the jaguar, we began started again. Jake took off at a jog, hoping to catch up with Materia. Luckily for him, Maximo had taken his 4-wheeler on some unknown back road, and was waiting just up the trail with Materia. Maximo was convinced that it couldn’t have been a jaguar—there isn’t enough preserved land at Rancho an Giraldo to make up one male jaguar’s territory—and told us it was probably a manigordo. Catalina scrambled down from Paloma and situated herself on the 4-wheeler, convinced that she was safer on a machine, and we all continued our walk out of the woods.
When I got dropped off at my house my host family just laughed. I imagine I was a pretty comical sight covered in mud and bug spray! My host mom passed me a towel and teasingly made a face, which I’m pretty sure is “get yourself in the shower pronto” in any language.  After a life changing shower, I told my family all about the jaguar/manigordo. They seemed skeptical, but that may have been because of my translation skills…

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Little of This, a Little of That


So after a week of living with my host family, Halloween arrived. Our academic director, Alan is in a locally famous band here called Chanchos de Monte and the Chanchos always put on a Halloween show! All of us reunited at our beloved station, pulled together some costumes, and headed to the local gringo bar—La Taberna—for a night of hilarity. 
The next day I spent watching Halloween movies on TV and bonding with my host cousin Katerine over boys. Man that girl has some man drama! I learned from here that Costa Rican boys are “different” than American boys, “they’ll fall in love with you at night, and never call you in the morning.” I tried to explain that boys are like that everywhere, but it didn’t really translate—she has a very high opinion of you American boys. The movies we watched were from the US and not actually about Halloween, like that 4th or 5th version of Bring It On with Hayden Panetierre and Rihanna. I hadn’t ever really given the movie much thought, until my host mom and cousin were like “are girls in the U.S. really like that? With the cheerleaders and sex and stuff?” I think I managed to salvage the reputation of American girls everywhere and tell my family that the Bring It On series is not a fair representation, but who knows. My conversational Spanish is coming a long nicely, but my please-don’t-judge-Americans-by-Hollywood-standards translation has a long way to go…
On Monday I had another day of class. Due to difficulties at the breakfast table (at first I thought that watching TV and eating was just a difficult activity for a 5yr old…sound familiar Dad? But it turns out Chris is just superb at stalling) we were running late, so the 4-wheeler ride was nuts. I thought we were going to tip over at least 5 times. Thankfully, Cristobál had the steering under control (don’t worry Mom, he’s an excellent driver), so I arrived at Ecotourism Day with my classmates safe and sound. After a quick (read: excruciatingly long) lecture, we headed out in the community to learn from a business owner, a farmer, and some park rangers, about their perspectives on how the boom in tourism has affected life in Monteverde. We also got to talk to Kathy’s (our mom of sorts while we’re here) mother, Mary Rockwell, about her experiences in Monteverde. Man, she is the coolest lady! As a freshly married 18 year old Quaker girl, she, her husband, and a group of about 40 other Quakers decided to leave the United States to escape the then peace time draft (they left “while all that Vietnam business was still brewing”) and because they felt it unjust that so much of their tax money was supporting the military. Ranging from 2 to 60 years old, the group decided to settle in the military-free country of Costa Rica. They spent the first year living “here, there, and yonder” around San Jose, searching for a place to begin dairy farming. After about a year, and then approximately 3-4months pregnant, Mary and the group moved out to the yet-to-be-settled land that they would call Monteverde (literally “green mountain”). Moving their precious few belongings out to “clear off out the way” (read: Monteverde) by ox cart, over rocky trails and “roads” of mud up to their knees, the group slowly settled in. Truly a modern pioneer, this woman is amazing (Ellie you would have been obsessed with her, minus the whole pacifist thing). She started raising her family (which grew to 8 children) in a tent, helped found this place where I now live, and brought a new industry—dairy—to a land formerly without any real source of income. She seemed happy that the tourism industry had brought a greater success to the Cheese Factory, but fondly reminisced on the days when crime and drugs were non-existent here, and family was truly the most important thing.
I’m not sure how many years back, but the community of Cañitas raised money and put in a synthetic soccer field around the bend from my house. My family doesn’t go much, but it seems like somebody in everyone else’s host family is involved in La Sintética. My friend Laura’s host mom is on a team with all her sisters in a local women’s league, so last Wednesday, Laura organized a scrimmage between the two teams. It was so much fun! On the way to the field I ran in to my cousin, who was on her way to a salsa/merengue class and asked if she wanted to come. Immediately she abandoned all thoughts of dance class, and headed to the field with us (Laura I think you’d like her a lot). Team Gringa (plus Katy) looked pretty comical playing in hiking boots, but I think we did pretty well! I’m not sure if anyone kept score, but I think we gave Team Tica a run for their money! That night Katy invited me to go to her English night course, which I happily attended on Thursday.
Taught by a retired Chicago banker with pretty much no Spanish knowledge (he’s now a peace corps volunteer) the class was really eye opening, and kind of frustrating. It was fascinating to watch other people learn a language that I am so comfortable with, and so fun to see how happy they were when something “clicked.” Unfortunately, the teacher was teaching these poor Costa Ricans to speak English with a silly Chicagoan accent (sorry Craze, Kate, Pauline…and any others I may have just offended) and he had no understanding of how to dissect a language to teach it to others. He focused his class on pronunciation, and completely neglected to explain possessives, basic sentence structure, and a bunch of other things he seemed to assume that his students knew. I didn’t share any of my opinions with Katy, and she still attends the weekly class, but we have our own lessons after dinner. The whole family gets involved, and we trade Spanish vocabulary for English conjugations and sentence structure. Last night, amid much laughter, we had a crucial lesson: Words with which You Need to be Careful. One of my professors taught us the Spanish half of this lesson after a little guaro in Peñas Blancas, so I just taught the English half to my family. We practiced “beach” and “sheet,” as well as “ship” and “fork” (If you can think of any others, let me know!)
Friday was another long day of class, followed by a dinner at our director Alan’s house. Burgers were flying off the grill, the cooler was stocked, and chips and salsa were passed around. Alan has two white west highland white terrier puppies, whom with I immediately bonded, and all of us dog lovers got our snuggle fill. 
At some point in the night, long after the food was demolished, we were all lounging on Alan’s wrap around porch and somehow it became story time. Story time quickly evolved (devolved?) in to poop story-sharing time, and we howled with laughter as the story topping ensued. Constipation was out done by diarrhea, which was put to shame by traveler’s diarrhea. I almost won with my pooping in the woods story, but was out shone by a truly (bowel) moving tale…one which I am not allowed to share here. After all, what happens on Alan’s porch stays on Alan’s porch.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Full House


Currently, I am living with my homestay family. Yesterday was our week-aversay of living together! My host father, Cristobál, is a horseback riding tour guide, my mother, Elieth is a stay at home mom. I also have a 5yr old brother named Christopher, and a 19yr old cousin named Katerine. They are wonderful people who have opened their home to me, and truly make me feel like part of the family (okay, I still kind of feel like a guest, but the other morning I got to help cook a little!). The coffee is so good here that I take it black, and every morning Cristobál asks “quiere azúcar?” and every time I say no he shakes his head a little.
“Cafecito para Chris, cafecito para mi, y café sin azúcar para Emilia…(smiling) guácala.” Coffee for Chris, coffee for me, and coffee without sugar for Emily…Yuck. Yes, you read that correctly, my 5yr old brother drinks coffee every morning. I can only think of his poor kindergarten teachers… Katerine and Elieth are quiet, but seem to share a bond like sisters rather than aunt and niece (dear CJ and Laura, I miss you). The girls and I talk about boys and our families, and this weekend we watched Sleepy Hallow with Johnny Depp (in Spanish) on TV…just in case you were wondering, yes Johnny Depp’s attractiveness is international—Katy and Elieth love him.
            Chris is thrilled that I’m not a vegetarian (Madeline, their last student was and so they ate a lot of fish…Chris does not like fish). And Cristobál takes me on every tour with him. I’m going on one this afternoon actually! The little girl inside of me that still asks Santa for a pony has never been happier (seriously, you can ask Santa).
            Also, my family doesn’t have a car—instead we have a 4-wheeler! So every weekday morning I jump on the back and go with Cristobál to drop Chris off at the Quaker School, and then he takes me up the mountain to the biological station. It’s a pretty sweet deal. Except that Chris likes to drive…yes the 5yr old operates the steering, gas and brakes, and yells “cambia papi, cambia!” when he wants his dad to shift gears. At first it was terrifying, but the little guy is actually a pretty good driver. So now I just hang on and enjoy the ride!
          My family has been incredibly patient with my intermediate Spanish, and it has been a joy living with them. Although my strict feeding schedule has been severely interrupted, I really really like living here. 

Brotanks and Bocas


I am wearing my Imperial
brotank
When I was little I often found myself awake at the crack of dawn, snuggling between my sleeping parents with the instructions to “wait for playtime at least until the clock says “seven zero zero.” All of the pretending to be a mermaid and childish wonder from the day before must have stirred my inner seven year old, so on the morning of October 15th, I found myself awake about an hour and a half earlier than necessary. Also, it might have just been that my inner badger knew that I was Saturday and therefore a game day. Who knows really, but never the less, I was awake. I ungracefully untangled myself from my mosquito net, careful not to wake my roommates, slipped on my brotank, and headed outside.
Other than that first day of crisp fall air, there is absolutely nothing better than morning salty breezes. I found a fishnet hammock between two postcard-perfect palms by our cabaña, and settled in to watch the beginnings of the day. 
Down the sandy road I could smell breakfast getting started by Yoany, the lady who, with her husband, owned the restaurant/bar where we ate all our meals. They had been hosting CIEE groups like ours for 15 years! The bay stretched out along my right side, the blue waters turning turquoise as the sun got higher in the sky. 
Talamanca Mountain Range--looks
like Alaska, right??
Framed by perfect blue mountains, the scene looked straight out of a “Come visit Alaska!” commercial. There was a little rasta boat bobbing just over my right shoulder, and to my left white sand formed the front yards of the little cabañas where my friends were still sound asleep. It amazes me how over the course of a couple months, this group of 21 complete strangers has truly come to feel like not only friends, but also family. We have shared every meal, every waking moment together, and I’m still not sick of them (how many families can say that?). Although we’ve never really put roots down anywhere, in fact on this 2nd field trip I never slept in the same bed for more than three nights, wherever I am with this group feels like a home. Eladio’s tiny little barn, the station in Monteverde, wherever we’re based takes on the role of “home” when our group fills it up.
I could keep going, but at this point in my journal the sentimental musings end. All that is written is “SAND FLEAS!” in a hasty script. With that mental trigger I can remember my horror at realizing that the little buggers were devouring the skin exposed on my hip, where my brotank had ridden up when I laid in the hammock. At that point I remember flipping myself out of the hammock (always the picture of grace) and sprinting down the road to where I could smell coffee.

Later that morning, some of us climbed back on the boats for more snorkeling. Others headed down to Bocas del Toro, the commercialized “spring break-esque” side of our island (us snorkelers were to join them later). It was some of the most beautiful snorkeling of my life. 
The sand was still settling from the rainstorm the night before, so from the surface where I was floating the coral all seemed subdued. However, I got my mermaid on and spent the morning diving down for closer looks. It’s amazing how many little fish live in the nooks and crannies of the coral, which itself is a living thing! I saw dozens of parrotfish, a couple Dory’s (Nemo was nowhere to be found), many jelly fish, and hundreds of other creatures that I don’t know the names of. Reefs are truly teeming with life and beauty!
Near lunchtime we all piled back into our boats, myself resuming my princess position on the prow once again, and we jetted off to Bocas del Toro. I’m sure the place transforms in to a hoppin’ party zone, but while we were there, in the revealing light of day the place just looked like a dirty tourist trap. It was filled with crummy hostels and hotels, it’s docks crowded with sketchy looking bars. Most places were under construction, leading to piles of scraps and who knows what in the streets. Our group picked our way around, shopping a little at the stands and finding our own lunch. Before I knew it, brotanks were everywhere
Sarah, Aki, Julia, Hannah, Caitlin, and Logan--all sporting
the brotank.
Almost all the boys in our group and several of the girls had purchased their own, proclaiming Panama’s finest brews from their chests. We wound our way through the sandy streets, waving at the old rasta men trying to sell us weed and found our teachers in the central park (read construction zone). They escorted us to a local religious shrine—a little spring coming from the mouth of a cave. Nodding at the statue of the Virgin Mary, we all passed into the cave. Apparently, Jesus really like bats because in the cave were hundreds of them! We learned all about Phyllostomus discolor and Artebeus jamaicensis while dodging falling guano. Stumbling and feeling our way through the darkness we ended up in the stream (read: water and guano soup) up to our waists. Fleeting light came when our resident bat expert, Dr. Richard Lavall would briefly shine his flashlight up at the harems of bats. Soaking wet up to our waists we emerged from the caves, piled into some taxis, and headed back to our pristine Bocas del Drago.
That day was actually our academic director, Alan’s, birthday! Since he became director of this program 20 some years ago, he has celebrated every birthday on the beach with CIEE groups. We were honored to share his 52nd birthday with him, him and the best seafood dinner I’ve ever eaten—lobster tails, shrimp sautéed with vegetables, and a mix of calamari and who knows what. Yes Dad, I sampled all of it (and liked pretty much everything!). Once we had all eaten our fill (and then some) the beer and rum started flowing. I cashed in on my prizes from the dares in Tirimbina, and we began to play our favorite card game—Wizard. All of a sudden there was a calypso band setting up, and we ended up dancing long in to the night, wading in the ocean every time the band took a “smoke” break (and being a band of rasta men, those breaks were frequent). In the morning we packed up our belongings, said goodbye to our precious cabañas, and boarded the bus for San Jose.
The bridge connecting the
2 countries
We made it across the border and to San Jose without much fuss, and spent the night in the Hotel Balmoral, where we had all spent our first two days of the semester back in August. How different everything seemed now that we all knew each other! We spent time recalling our first impressions of each other, wandering around the city, and catching up with our families on the lobby computers. Now that we weren’t so focused on meeting each other, we really got to absorb the city as we walked around finding food. Hannah, Julia and got empanadas and churros from a street vendor and returned to the Balmoral, enjoying long hot showers, watching Law and Order reruns (in English!) and falling asleep early. Hannah and I tried to make superbed again, but sadly the Balmoral had chosen furniture that made this impossible.
In the morning we went out in San Jose again, wandering around buying souvenirs, trying to find a place to pierce Hannah’s nose, and practicing our Spanish. Pretty soon 1pm rolled around and we boarded our bus for Monteverde. Although we never found a place to pierce Hannah’s nose, I did find a ring to replace the cartilage piercing I’d lost in the ocean. There’s no chance this thing will fall out of my ear because it requires the use of pliers to clamp it shut! Being a resourceful group, and one liking immediate gratification, I borrowed a pocketknife with a pliers attachment from one of the boys, and Hannah set to work getting the ring in my ear…on the moving bus. 
When the rocking of the bus proved too much for Hannah, Jake jumped in to help. Brandon tried, our TA’s Maricela and Moncho gave their best shot, but nobody could compete with the swaying of the bus. So I sat with the ring halfway through my ear all the way to Monteverde. After many other shenanigans involving the ring, finally my friends Logan and Maddy were able to clamp it shut.
Q: how many college students does it take to put in a cartilage earring?
A: approximately 12.
Never have I ever been so grateful that I’d remembered to q-tip my ears the night before!
Our next days in Monteverde passed quickly with class and Spanish lessons every day. We studied all the things we’d learned on the field trip late into the night, and before we knew it, the exam arrived. After an excruciating morning of testing, we realized the truth—we were about to be separated from each other! Throughout the afternoon we packed up our belongings, spent the night celebrating the end of our exam, and prepared to move in with our homestay families the next morning. 

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Let the Panamania begin!


My roommate Alex--this is normal.

At the Panamanian border we had one instruction: act normal. Probably for any other group this would have been an effortless task, however we’re kind of…special. In our adventure pants, chocos, and assortment of heights and accents we do not appear even remotely Costa Rican. Frequently we find ourselves on a self-proclaimed “gringo parade,” attracting attention wherever we go. We also really like to play ninja—a get-to-know-you game introduced to us on our first field trip. Although we know each other quite well now (too well?) we still haven’t stopped playing. On mountain tops, in the ocean, even in the middle of the road, ninja can happen anywhere.
We were not allowed to play ninja at the border.
With much self-restraint, we all passed through customs and crossed into Panama. We reloaded the bus and headed to the coast where, under the cover of darkness, we loaded our bags and selves on to some water taxis. In the shadow of a huge freighter we took off, speeding through polluted waters (the large banana monocultures there, like Chiquita, dump all their waste in the ocean, so the coastal waters are pretty disgusting). The taxis dropped us off on a the small island at Bocas del Drago, a beach close to the famous Bocas del Toro. My roommates from Monteverde and I secured a small beach cabaña to ourselves with a kitchen, our own bathroom, and a balcony off the upstairs bedroom. 
from left to right, the panamanian bromansion, our house,
and the rest of the girls' house
After a dinner and some ocean beers (note: Panamanian beer is gross) we collapsed in our beds, exhausted from the day of traveling.
The next morning we embarked on an orientation hike. My sleeves of my hanes white-t were quickly severed, and the brotank movement was born. Although I had long ago purchased an Imperial brotank in Monteverde, the heat of Panama quickly increased the brotank followers, and the boys’ shirts quickly lost their sleeves as well. We walked up and down the seaside village, learning all about the species found on the island, the story behind breadfruit, and even getting to see a cemetery where some of the original settlers were buried! After some snorkeling just off our beach (which ended up murdering my camera) we jumped back in the water taxis and headed out to what can only be described as Avatar Island. Sprouting up from the middle of nowhere, the tree-covered rock looked like the floating cloud islands straight out of the movie. Magnificent frigatebirds, red-billed tropic birds swooped overhead, and brown boobies nested in the rocky edges. Ornithologists apparently have a 9-year-old sense of humor…and apparently so do I because I almost fell out of the boat giggling every time somebody spotted one…
“Look, a Brown Boobie! There’s a pair of brown boobies over there!” Okay come on if you don’t think that’s funny we can’t be friends. Anyway. We continued circling the island, pretending to be Na'vi until our driver stopped, told us to grab our snorkels and head into "de wata." Year of living in the Midwest have taught me to expect an icy shock when plunging into a body of water, but bracing myself was unnecessary. The warm waters of the Caribbean greeted me, as did hundred of gorgeous fish. There were beautiful anemones and rock walls that, while barren and boobie-inhabited above water, were coated with colorful life below. I’m probably not the first one to say this, but Ariel (as in the mermaid) is an idiot. Sebastian had it right
                                           Just look at the world around you
                                              Right here on the ocean floor
                                         Such wonderful things surround you
                                               What more is you lookin' for?
 
Being a mermaid...duh.
The next day was an entire day of snorkeling. Sporting my Imperial brotank and a thick layer of sunscreen (and I even re-applied later, Andrea you would have been so proud), I boarded the boat and settled myself on to the prow. In between all our snorkeling sites I found myself up on the prow again, soaking up the sun and sea breezes—really it’s the only way for a princess to ride in a boat.
Our first stop was at some mangroves. Now, in our first field trip we learned all about mangroves above the water—I never imagined there was anything special going on below. The roots of mangroves are absolutely teeming with life! Bright orange corals, purple anemones, and hundred of other species coated the mangrove roots. Little fish darted in between, and I was filled with wonder at everything that I saw.
Hannah Julia and I sharing a life-affirming
moment

For lunch we stopped at a little dock restaurant only accessible by boat. We had some delicious seafood stirfry, and while dangling my feet in the turquoise waters that are only supposed to exist on computer screen savers, I had one of those life-affirming moments. You know, those ones where you just take a step back and think to yourself “yep, this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

At all of our snorkeling stops that day I felt the same. With every fish I saw, every new type of coral, wonder that a thing so beautiful could still exist in this world filed me up. How can anyone hate nature? How can anyone justify destroying it? 

Monday, October 24, 2011

If this were a REAL rainforest, we'd be walking THROUGH that river, not on this paved bridge..."


Bridge through La Selva--note the firm
hand rails and extensive width. 

Now La Selva is a pretty big deal. It’s a famous research station located on the Caribbean slope and you can read all about it here. While I’m sure it’s a great place for many people, our group was not enthused by the place. The trails were paved with bridges, there were showers with warm water, and washing machines with dryers. We weren't allowed to touch any of the nature, and our mealtime eating style (loud conversations, excessive laughter) were not appreciated by the other students living there. That’s right, we also had our first exposure to other US college students since arriving here in August...they were weird (their program had so many "safety" rules--like no bike riding and no night hiking. What? Everyone knows nighttime is when you see all the cool creatures. The whole place was so foreign and strange—we were all very overwhelmed and grateful to only be staying for 2 nights. 
Class in La Selva means wearing party
hats to learn about Tree Fall Gaps. I
maintain that the OTHER group of college
kids were the weird ones. 
            I did get to see some pretty cool creatures though, like an eyelash viper and a Montezuma’s Oropendula. But that’s about it for La Selva.

            Our next stop was Tirimbina, another research station slightly closer to the coast and perfectly lovely. It really reminded me of our home in Monteverde with its large patio and hammocks strung between every post. We did a night hike through the pond down the hill from the station and saw caimans, toads, and even a vine snake! Then some horsemen came whooping over the hill and scared the living daylights out of my friend Caitlin and I, so we decided to be done with the pond.
            The next day was filled with learning all about the timber industry in Costa Rica. The industry isn’t really that exciting, but what was exciting was the farm we visited to learn all about it. Half pineapple plantation, a quarter cows and horses, and a quarter tree plantation, I have found where I’m going to live when I grow up. A small river (which is just deep enough for floaties) cut through the rolling pastures, which were filled with cattle and a couple horses (obviously when I live there the silly brama cows will be replaced with jerseys and the horse herd will grow exponentially). The pineapple fields would provide breakfast…and lunch…and life would be just perfect. You are all welcome to visit, of course.
            
Future home of my floaty
After a night dreaming of my future home, I woke up well rested and ready for anything. We took 4 hour hike from our Tirimbina research station through the forest to the Tirmibina resort, stopping along the way to learn about the plants and animals we found along the way, including some bullet ants! Just before we got to the resort we arrived at a bridge—like literally 3 city blocks long—over a river. We went across carefully the first time, being considerate to the height-fearers…and then later we ran back across bouncing the whole way (insert our teachers shaking their heads and calling us silly gringos here). After lunch at the Tirimbina resort our travel mom, Kathy, had a chat with the hotel staff and got us all a pass in to the pool! We threw ourselves in, clothes and all.
           
Later that evening we returned to our research station via vans for dinner and the main event—the CIEE Fall 2011 Talent Show. Now, all of the people in my group are incredible scientists—that has been abundantly clear to me since our first day in Costa Rica. They are all fascinated by nature, intelligent beyond measure, and clearly enamored by science. I love them all so much, but until the Talent Show I had no idea how truly multi-dimensional these people were—we have dancers, huggers, rappers, and comedians. We also have a un professor muy travieso—between every couple of skits, Moncho had a “dare” for volunteers to attempt. If you were successful you were granted a free alcoholic beverage once we got to Panama (the type and quantity varied based on the challenge). For one challenge myself and two other contestants were called up on stage, and then asked to bring our first tentmate from the first field trip. Julia happily sprinted on stage, as did everyone else’s tentmates.
            “Now, para una cerveza y una joamy umbrella drink, jew guys have to lick eachoder’s armpits!” Moncho pronounced with a giggle. Julia and I took one look at each other and, without exchanging any words, stuck our tongues out in the ready position. Two licks and a high five later, we were the proud recipients of Moncho’s drink coupons! Over the rest of the night, saltines were choked down, more tentmates kissed, balls were iced, and free drinks were won by the most daring of us. Never have I ever laughed for so long, or so hard, in my life. My cheeks were still sore the next day! (Come on Kyle, my face cheeks…)
            The next morning our teachers let us sleep in (9am woo!) and after a late breakfast we had a pleasant but ride to the coast. Under pouring rain we climbed aboard some water taxis and motored down the river to Tortuguero. Now, Tortuguero is by no means a big town, in fact it’s downright tiny. But that didn’t make our gringo parade any less obvious as our pack-laden train wound its way from the river side of the town to the beach. Surrounded by sand and palm trees, Tortuguero’s brightly colored cabaña’s and rasta way of life make it seem straight off a postcard. Our motel was a tiny little thing, with hammocks all around and a large grassy area for soccer playing. The tiny little room Hannah and I shared barely fit our two beds when separated, so we pushed the full and the twin together to create superbed. Even though I woke up at an ungodly hour both of the mornings that we were there, some of the best sleep I have ever gotten occurred in superbed.
            Why was I waking up at the buttcrack of dawn you are wondering? Well to go find baby turtles of course! Tortuguero is famous for being one of the primary green sea turtle nesting sites in the world. If you go there in early August you a guaranteed to see momma turtles laying their eggs on shore at night, as well as little babies crawling out to sea in the wee hours of the morning. Because we were there on the 11th of October, we didn’t get to see any mommas, but we did get to see a baby! 
You wouldn't think so, but these guys can move!
The first morning we were there Hannah, several of our other friends, and I made a loooooong trek down the beach to where we could see a crowd of people gathered. With the sun rising over our right shoulders, after an hour of walking we made it to the group just in time to see the last baby turtle paddling his way down the sand. It was one of the most magical things I’ve ever seen. Even the cranky old French lady that scolded me for reaching to help the turtle when he got stuck in a massive footprint couldn’t ruin the moment (especially because while she was distracted clucking her tongue at me, the large rastaman behind her took care of the turtle).
            We went on what our director likes to call an “orientation hike” that morning. We do one every place we go—basically it involves walking around the place we’re staying and stopping every 5 minutes to get a mini lecture about the species he has found. Generally they’re full of griping and complaining (“ugh god, another one?!” “cripes I’m so hot” etc.), but in retrospect, it’s still a really cool way to learn. No giant lectures, no powerpoints with photos, just you and the professor (and 21 other kids) walking around and finding organisms in nature. And learning about them right then and there. Before lunch I got to see a baby sea turtle, a basilisk, a baby monkey, and a pregnant monkey (who kindly left her perch directly above us, where she’d been watching us learn about zyngiberoid growth forms, to relieve herself several yards away).
Pre-thunderstorm --note the excited smiles!
            That afternoon we headed back to the river and filled up about 6 large canoes. The trip started on a high note—Kathy had filled giant snack bags and placed them under the seats of the canoes (chips and salsa in a canoe? Great idea in science) and quickly took a nosedive. The idea was to go bird watching, but it being the rainy season and all, it rained the entire time. And by “rained” I mean Niagra Falls relocated to the Caribbean sky and dumped freezing water on us for three hours. We did see some roseate spoonbills and some snowy egrets, but mostly we just played “pass the paddle” to stay warm. One of the things I have learned about this place—when you are at your most cold/wet/miserable you are always about to get the best meal of your life. Grilled cheese in Santa Rosa, pesto and garlic bread in Monteverde, mac and cheese and rice pudding at Eladio’s, and Tortuguero held its own with mini shrimp alfredo! Hannah and I set the alarm for even earlier that night, and collapsed in superbed full and content.
            At 4:20am my watch rudely awakened Hannah and I. It was still pitch black outside (you’re not allowed to be on the beach without a certified guide when it’s dark) and superbed was so comfortable that Hannah and I decided to give ourselves another half an hour of supersleep. Not 5 minutes passed before I felt Hannah nudging me awake.
            “We’re going to see something cool.”
            “Excuse me?” I said groggily
            “I just feel it. We are going to see something fricken awesome. Let’s go!” I rolled myself out of bed and down to the beach. Now before you get excited we didn’t see any creatures, but we did get to watch the moon set and the sun rise at the same time! 
After breakfast we disbanded superbed, got back into our boats, and went back down the river to our bus. For the next 5 hours we played Wizard (our card game of choice), snacked, and slept our way down the Costa Rican coast. Around 5 we arrived at the Costa Rica-Panamanian border. With all games of ninja banned and strict instructions to “act normal” all the sleepy gringos tumbled out of the bus. We passed through customs, and carefully crossed a massive bridge spanning a river between the two countries. Once we’d made it through Panamanian customs (not as friendly as Costa Rican customs) we waited for the bus. They took a long time going through all the underbelly compartments, we failed miserably at being inconspicuous, and in several miles we made it to the Panamanian coast. 

Friday, October 21, 2011

Rum Runners

At 8am on October 4th, we filled up our backpacks once more and began the 10-mile trek out of the Children’s Eternal Rainforest. There was a mighty rushing river about 20 minutes in to the hike that we all crossed together (everyone made it!) and then our raucous group quickly dispersed into our various hiking paces. I found myself smack dab in the middle with my friend Julia. We spent the morning chatting about boys, school, and our families until around 10am.
Nobody fell, everyone's pack is dry, we made it!

Now before I get started with this story, I feel like I should offer you an out, so if bodily functions make you giggle, click here. If you’d rather keep your image of me in your head as a delicate little flower, keep on reading…
  
Pocosol is located up the Atlantic slope, right where the warm air from the Atlantic cools enough to loose all of its moisture before it heads over the Continental Divide. The place, which receives some rain almost every single day, is aptly named. In Spanish, “poco sol” literally translates to “little sun”. After a morning of bird lectures and delicious coffee, we all donned our swimsuits (the guard suit made another appearance!) 
Julia (my original tentmate) and Hannah (my future Belize
 roommate) next to our lake
and headed down to a little lake that we’d passed on our hike about 500m away from the station. We don’t really know how the lake got there, but our teachers promised it was free from crocodiles and poisonous snakes, so we confidently ran down the grassy shore in to the water. You can imagine our surprise, which quickly changed to delight, when we realized that this lake was not like most. There was no gradual shallow entry—where the grass met the water there was about a 4ft drop off. We passed the afternoon with cannon ball contests and headed back to the station in time for dinner, with a post-dinner statistics lecture looming over our heads.

The contest-winning photo! I call it "Jake over Johnny"
After dinner we all settled into our makeshift classroom, fighting off food comas and bracing ourselves for the driest lecture ever. I mean, let’s face it, statistics are not really that interesting unless your teacher is genetically related to me…that’s a not-so-cryptic shout out to you, sister dear.

No Laura, not you.

Alan, our head honcho professor blathered on about regression and comparison tests, making nonsense graphs on our travel white board. I pretty much zoned out for the first 25 minutes, until this phrase caught my attention,
“…so to make an interactive example of a comparison test, we’re going to compare your taste for rum to how much the bottle costs.. This will determine if your palates can pick out the best rum.” Um excuse me what did I really just hear that? I nearly fell out of my chair. “So stand up everyone, let’s head back over to the kitchen!”
Never have we ever moved so fast in our lives.

On top of the tables where we had just eaten dinner were now lettered plastic cups filled with 10 types of rum. Our task was to taste (“just a taste children, just get the flavor!”) each cup of rum and rank them according to our preference. Well, our group of college students was pretty much all over the board when it came to our preference. Some swore that cup C must be the $70 bottle, while others claimed cup J was clearly the best. After several suspenseful minutes of running our data through Excel, our teachers pronounced that two of us had A+ palates; while the rest of us ran the gamut from B+ to F. 

I’m proud to say that my taste in rum matches my college student wallet.

We then proceeded to polish off the rest of the rum not used in the statistical experiment, while learning the finer points of salsa dancing from our professors. This sentence makes our activities sound really classy, but…never mind. I’m not going to finish that sentence.

The next morning we groggily got all our packs on to a covered cattle truck, and loaded ourselves into the beds of some open-air ones. Bouncing and rocking down the dirt road (not friendly movements para una persona que tiene goma, let me tell you) my fried Alex and I practiced our princess wave to all the locals (who found our parade of gringo-filled cattle trucks hilarious) and played “I spy.” The little neighborhoods we passed looked like happy places to live, and were framed by mountains off in the distance. If I could buy about 10 plots of land I though to myself I could have my horses, and raise a family in this neighborhood! 
Once we reached the bottom of the hill we transferred our packs and ourselves on to our beautiful coach bus, and promptly fell asleep. I didn’t stir until we reached our next destination—La Selva.