This was the first real weekend [November 23, 24, 25] I stayed in town.
Lindsay left on Saturday morning. It was triste. She cried. I cried.
And that's all I have to say about that.
xoxo, Cleome
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Weekend Trip #6: Bocas Del Toro, Panama [!]
Panama
Let me just preface this post by saying that mine and Lindsay´s trip to Panama is hands down my favorite travel adventure (so far). So excuse my love radiating from this recap. I just can't contain it....
Dates: Thursday, November 15- Sunday, November 18
First, let me discuss the rationale behind embarking on a nine hour trip, dealing with the hassle of leaving Costa Rica/entering Panama, and venturing to a place that was reputed to have a relatively similar atmosphere to Puerto Viejo [a place we'd already been].
1) The destination was not just Panama- it was Bocas del Toro, a collection of islands in the Caribbean off the coast of northern Panama.
2) It was Lindsay's last weekend, and we wanted to end with a memorable trip.
3) Islands=water and beaches. And we could finally get that snorkeling trip in.
4) We'd heard it was really cool.
5) Did I mention we'd be going to PANAMA? An entirely different country? <- yeah, pretty syked about that aspect.
We figured that if we were already springing for the trip by taking a day off volunteering, we may as well go extreme luxury and book a tour there as well. The tour included transportation to and from the islands [provided we got to Puerto Viejo on our own], two-nights of accommodation [we got to choose our hostel], and a 9:00am-5:00pm snorkeling/dolphin watching/catamaran trip on Saturday. We researched how much it would cost us to book all that stuff ourselves, and figured we'd be paying roughly $30 more for using a tour company. An essentially hassle-free [and hopefully transport issue-free] weekend for $30 extra? We were sold.
[I've been trying to keep my weekly spending, including on the weekends, below $125. The tour package alone cost $140, so I knew I'd be going over budget. The week ended up costing me roughly $230- but it was so worth it. Plus I made up for it by not going anywhere the next weekend.]
Setting Off
Thursday after volunteering, Lindsay and I headed straight into San Jose to catch the 2:00pm bus to Puerto Viejo. We made it to San Jose [after being passed by the first bus headed there because in trying to flag it down, I accidentally put my thumb up- international hitchhiker symbol. The bus passed us with the driver rubbing his fingers together on one hand, demonstrating that we had to pay. Oops...] with plenty of time to spare, the bus showed up on time, and no major excitement occurred on the ride down. For once, our transportation [at least the first part of it] had worked out. Good omen?
We had decided to once again stay at Rocking J's for the night, thinking we could handle the crazy party hostel if it was only for a day. But our experience there this time around was completely different from when we'd stayed there five weeks ago [wow does time fly]. For one, we got in around 6:30pm- a much more reasonable hour than last time. When we arrived only a handful of people were milling around, no tents were set up on the green, and the bar's music was much more mellow. As Lindsay and I checked in, a man of about 50 [obviously of some importance there] came over and introduced himself as J- as in the "J" of Rocking J's. He told the clerk to give us some icees, and then invited Lindsay and I to create a mosaic or a mural [or both], and to come on a tour of the mysterious building out back called the Ark. We politely declined making art, but figured a tour of the Ark couldn't hurt. Boy were we in for a surprise.
J's Ark
I'm not even sure how I can go about describing the Ark in a way that makes sense. I'm going to preface the description by saying that the Ark is a rich mad man's response to the Mayan-predicted end of the world. Amazing but incredibly insane. Unfortunately I didn't have my camera on me [didn't realize I'd want it], so the inside exists only in my mind. But here goes an attempted description of the Ark in all its glory.
The Ark sits behind Rocking J's, in a large, grassy area. From the outside it resembles a three-tiered, mural-covered pyramid. Its foundation is made up of seven enormous shipping crates that have been welded together so that the Ark can float. The building has been worked on for the past year and a half, and still the top two levels are under construction. But even without being finished, it's clearly the work of a mad genius.
Like I said, the Ark has three different levels. The top two make up what will become J's house, and are made completely out of handcrafted, recycled wood and mirrors. His private space includes a secret artillery room [entered by pressing some button in the living room, and fully equipped with any video game-obsessed youth's weapons/accessories wildest dreams. I'm assuming much of it is illegal...], artwork from all over the world [personalized so that every piece includes a picture of his dog], and an "ice room"- an airtight location where everything needed for a bar will be made out of ice. The public bottom level [for the lucky souls who make it onto his boat before the floods come...] has four different spaces, each located inside one of the shipping containers and entered through a trap door at the top. One serves as a medical center [complete with specialized enough equipment to perform surgeries], one currently [!] contains $15,000 worth of dried/dehydrated food in enormous bulk bins, one is a dorm with 12-15 bunks, and the final space [and most bizarre] is a recording studio- complete with expensive instruments, tie-dyed and soundproofed walls, floor to ceiling mirrors, and state-of-the-art recording equipment. Like I warned you- it's absolutely insane.
The entire tour [which consisted of Lindsay and I, and a neighbor couple of J's], Lindsay and I would make incredulous eye contact and whisper either "I'm scared," [Lindsay] "This guy is crazy," [Lindsay again] or "Don't let him hear. We'll discuss this later," [me]. The tour lasted two hours, and by 9:00pm we were not only sufficiently freaked out, but starving as well. We thanked J for the... incredible... tour, and hurried out of the hostel to grab some dinner.
The night was insanely calm for Rocking J's [pretty much a normal hostel where people shut up and went to bed by 10:00pm]. The only excitement of the night occurred when Lindsay spotted a cockroach in her bag, and proceeded to spend the next 30 minutes alternating between shrieking and reaching into her bag to pull stuff out. I was quite helpful and held the flashlight over her backpack.... Plus said encouraging things. She eventually found and squashed the offending insect, and then we headed to our hammocks for a surprisingly decent night's sleep.
Border Crossing [My First on Foot!]
7:30am the shuttle pulled up to Rocking J's, and Lindsay and I crawled in. We were joined by two Australian surfer dudes [Kain with his three boards, while Zac only brought two], and a Swiss German guy, Kevin- while none of us talked all that much on the way to the border, we'd end up hanging out quite a bit over the weekend. It took about an hour to reach the border, and I think all of were surprised when we finally hit it. It didn't appear at all like you'd expect the division between countries to look [maybe this was just my American ignorance coming into play, but I was expecting barbed wire, policemen, and guard dogs.... Oh, and also a luggage-checking station]. The entire crossing process consisted of a small office on the Costa Rican side where you filled out an immigration form and got an exit stamp, a rickety ex-train bridge with planks missing that you walked over, and an office on the Panamanian side where you got an entry stamp. The Costa Rican side moved along fairly quickly, but the Panamanian side was experiencing... difficulties, and the line literally did not move for over an hour. Finally the window opened, though, we got our stamps, and were whisked off in another shuttle.
We arrived at the dock around 11:00am, and after waiting for a bit, were shown into the least ferry-like ferry I've ever seen. Compared to the huge boat we'd taken getting to Montezuma [three stories, with the bottom level large enough to transport multiple semi trucks], taking this "ferry" was essentially the equivalent of hopping in the back of an already-crowded pickup truck- except on water. Not only was the boat the size of a large van, but our trip included a large group of [intoxicated] local teenagers toting booze, who spent the ride shouting to each other and singing at the top of their lungs. That's not even taking into account the actual ride itself- a jolting, bumpy experience where I more than once feared we'd capsize [Lindsay and I later agreed the trip felt like you were falling down stairs on your butt]. I was quite relieved when we made it to Isla Colon- the main island- in one piece.
Bocas
When we arrived at midday, the islands' Independence Day celebration had already begun: parades, gunshots, fireworks, you name it. While it was tempting to stick around and watch, hunger and the need to be relieved of our backpacks won out, so the five of us decided to catch a water taxi to the island where our hostel, Aqua Lounge, was located- a $1, minute-long trip.
Before booking our tour, Lindsay and I had done a bit of research on places to stay. Aqua Lounge topped the list on most sites we checked out. It's essentially the Rocking J's of Bocas- a major party hostel, best known for its crazy nights, and THE water trampoline. There turned out not to be that many beds in the hostel, though, so our party was lucky and scored the last few spots when we turned up. Lindsay and I ended up in a dorm with a large group of Israeli guys, some French dudes, and a pair of 18-year-old surfers [Jordan from Canada, and Yotom from Israel]. We said hi to everyone as we put our stuff away, but left right away to find a place to eat. On our way out the back door we ran into Ben from Montezuma- we'd been in communication with him about our plans to go to Bocas and thought there was a 50/50 chance he'd show up. It was nice to see another familiar face; the three of us headed out to grab some lunch.
After lunch [a laborious process of finding a restaurant and waiting for food that took us until 3:00pm], we just hung out at the hostel, talked with the guys we'd ridden down with, swam, and relaxed. Around 6:00pm, Lindsay and I decided to head to the main island for some exploring/dinner, and managed to convince Ben, Kain, Zac, and Kevin to come along. Turned out to be a good thing we left for dinner so early- we wouldn't end up eating for another three hours anyway.
Celebration!
We manage to arrive on Isla Colon at the exact perfect moment to watch the Independence Day Parade. The streets were swarming with people- everyone from every island had come to congregate on Isla Colon for the evening. The parade was made up of at least five separate groups of baton twirlers/drum lines [each with their own distinctive outfits], and in between each group, random guys would be walking around spraying fire from a can [seriously], or lighting off fireworks in the middle of the crowd- one batch of pyromaniacs lit theirs off so close to us, I could feel the hot ash raining down. The atmosphere was incredibly festive, and the music was so invigorating I don't think any of us stopped bobbing to the beat the entire two and a half hours we stood there. Our group definitely stood out- some of the only foreigners, and consistently exclaiming about something in the parade. We were probably just as interesting a spectacle for the Panamanians as the performers....
Eventually it got late enough that we needed food- fast. We searched the main road for a cheap rotisserie chicken place that had been recommended to us, and after successfully annoying the workers [mainly thanks to Kain's "chicken dance" while attempting to convey his order...], we sat down to the best chicken I can remember having. Ever. The delicious French fries that accompanied the meal didn't hurt, either. Having satisfied our bellies, we wandered back up the street to catch the parade's finale, in the process simultaneously meeting another group of travelers and losing Kevin. After pacing the streets shouting "Kevin from Switzerland!" at the top of our lungs for 20 unsuccessful minutes, we gave up looking for him [<- terrible travel buddies, I know], and headed to a local bar/dance club. [Hey, Kevin eventually made his way there as well, so it all turned out okay. Stop with the guilting.]
Ended up seeing most of the others from Aqua Lounge at the bar, and we danced insanely for a few hours. Hot, sweaty, crowded- and so much fun. Eventually Lindsay and I headed back to the hostel, though, to try and get some sleep before our tourthe next that morning. The hostel ended up being too hot and loud to really get any sleep, but it's the thought that counts, right?
Yes I Will Lounge on a Catamaran for Seven Hours
^That's exactly what Lindsay and I did from 9:00am-4:00pm on Saturday. With a bit of dolphin watching [I saw one's back] and snorkeling [for, like, 20 minutes] thrown in. But the day was spent mostly sunbathing [and burning] on a catamaran. We lucked out with the weather- apparently it was the first gloriously sunny day in over a week. Success!
Saturday evening Lindsay and I showered and headed into town for an early dinner. We had okay sushi, but really delicious martinis, so overall dinner was good ;) Then we headed back to Aqua Lounge because that's where the big party was going to be. Plus it was Ladies' Night, which in Latin America means free drinks for girls for an hour. I ended up heading back to Isla Colon for about an hour with Jordan and Yotom- searching for an Internet cafe for Yotom- and we made it back to the hostel at the very end of Ladies' Night [literally, we arrived at 10:33pm, when free drinks were supposed to end at 10:30pm]. But somehow I managed to squeeze in getting three free drinks- two of which I gave to the guys, no worries Mom.
Saturday night was essentially a repeat of Friday- but much more fun, for some reason. Lots of dancing, meeting people, good music, etc. The bar closed at 3:00am and all non-guests were kicked out, but the rest of us staying at the hostel continued to hang out. I ended up crawling into bed around 5:00am, while Lindsay didn't come into the dorm until 6:20am- 20 minutes before we had to wake up to catch our ferry back to Costa Rica.... We both were feeling really great when the alarm went off at 6:45am.
Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig
Ferry to dock, shuttle to border, second shuttle to Puerto Viejo, just missed early bus to San Jose, waited for five hours until 4:00pm for bus to the capital, waited at sketchy station until 10:00pm for bus back to Atenas. Was asleep before head hit the pillow, and waking up Monday was brutal.
I feel like our trip to Bocas del Toro was my favorite because it had all the aspects of what traveling should be like. Parades, fireworks, music, dancing, delicious & cheap food, fun people to group up with, gorgeous scenery, late nights, and a bit of relaxation, just for kicks. In one word: amazing.
And did I mention we went to PANAMA???
xoxo, Cleome
Let me just preface this post by saying that mine and Lindsay´s trip to Panama is hands down my favorite travel adventure (so far). So excuse my love radiating from this recap. I just can't contain it....
Dates: Thursday, November 15- Sunday, November 18
First, let me discuss the rationale behind embarking on a nine hour trip, dealing with the hassle of leaving Costa Rica/entering Panama, and venturing to a place that was reputed to have a relatively similar atmosphere to Puerto Viejo [a place we'd already been].
1) The destination was not just Panama- it was Bocas del Toro, a collection of islands in the Caribbean off the coast of northern Panama.
2) It was Lindsay's last weekend, and we wanted to end with a memorable trip.
3) Islands=water and beaches. And we could finally get that snorkeling trip in.
4) We'd heard it was really cool.
5) Did I mention we'd be going to PANAMA? An entirely different country? <- yeah, pretty syked about that aspect.
We figured that if we were already springing for the trip by taking a day off volunteering, we may as well go extreme luxury and book a tour there as well. The tour included transportation to and from the islands [provided we got to Puerto Viejo on our own], two-nights of accommodation [we got to choose our hostel], and a 9:00am-5:00pm snorkeling/dolphin watching/catamaran trip on Saturday. We researched how much it would cost us to book all that stuff ourselves, and figured we'd be paying roughly $30 more for using a tour company. An essentially hassle-free [and hopefully transport issue-free] weekend for $30 extra? We were sold.
[I've been trying to keep my weekly spending, including on the weekends, below $125. The tour package alone cost $140, so I knew I'd be going over budget. The week ended up costing me roughly $230- but it was so worth it. Plus I made up for it by not going anywhere the next weekend.]
Setting Off
Thursday after volunteering, Lindsay and I headed straight into San Jose to catch the 2:00pm bus to Puerto Viejo. We made it to San Jose [after being passed by the first bus headed there because in trying to flag it down, I accidentally put my thumb up- international hitchhiker symbol. The bus passed us with the driver rubbing his fingers together on one hand, demonstrating that we had to pay. Oops...] with plenty of time to spare, the bus showed up on time, and no major excitement occurred on the ride down. For once, our transportation [at least the first part of it] had worked out. Good omen?
We had decided to once again stay at Rocking J's for the night, thinking we could handle the crazy party hostel if it was only for a day. But our experience there this time around was completely different from when we'd stayed there five weeks ago [wow does time fly]. For one, we got in around 6:30pm- a much more reasonable hour than last time. When we arrived only a handful of people were milling around, no tents were set up on the green, and the bar's music was much more mellow. As Lindsay and I checked in, a man of about 50 [obviously of some importance there] came over and introduced himself as J- as in the "J" of Rocking J's. He told the clerk to give us some icees, and then invited Lindsay and I to create a mosaic or a mural [or both], and to come on a tour of the mysterious building out back called the Ark. We politely declined making art, but figured a tour of the Ark couldn't hurt. Boy were we in for a surprise.
J's Ark
I'm not even sure how I can go about describing the Ark in a way that makes sense. I'm going to preface the description by saying that the Ark is a rich mad man's response to the Mayan-predicted end of the world. Amazing but incredibly insane. Unfortunately I didn't have my camera on me [didn't realize I'd want it], so the inside exists only in my mind. But here goes an attempted description of the Ark in all its glory.
The Ark sits behind Rocking J's, in a large, grassy area. From the outside it resembles a three-tiered, mural-covered pyramid. Its foundation is made up of seven enormous shipping crates that have been welded together so that the Ark can float. The building has been worked on for the past year and a half, and still the top two levels are under construction. But even without being finished, it's clearly the work of a mad genius.
Like I said, the Ark has three different levels. The top two make up what will become J's house, and are made completely out of handcrafted, recycled wood and mirrors. His private space includes a secret artillery room [entered by pressing some button in the living room, and fully equipped with any video game-obsessed youth's weapons/accessories wildest dreams. I'm assuming much of it is illegal...], artwork from all over the world [personalized so that every piece includes a picture of his dog], and an "ice room"- an airtight location where everything needed for a bar will be made out of ice. The public bottom level [for the lucky souls who make it onto his boat before the floods come...] has four different spaces, each located inside one of the shipping containers and entered through a trap door at the top. One serves as a medical center [complete with specialized enough equipment to perform surgeries], one currently [!] contains $15,000 worth of dried/dehydrated food in enormous bulk bins, one is a dorm with 12-15 bunks, and the final space [and most bizarre] is a recording studio- complete with expensive instruments, tie-dyed and soundproofed walls, floor to ceiling mirrors, and state-of-the-art recording equipment. Like I warned you- it's absolutely insane.
The entire tour [which consisted of Lindsay and I, and a neighbor couple of J's], Lindsay and I would make incredulous eye contact and whisper either "I'm scared," [Lindsay] "This guy is crazy," [Lindsay again] or "Don't let him hear. We'll discuss this later," [me]. The tour lasted two hours, and by 9:00pm we were not only sufficiently freaked out, but starving as well. We thanked J for the... incredible... tour, and hurried out of the hostel to grab some dinner.
The night was insanely calm for Rocking J's [pretty much a normal hostel where people shut up and went to bed by 10:00pm]. The only excitement of the night occurred when Lindsay spotted a cockroach in her bag, and proceeded to spend the next 30 minutes alternating between shrieking and reaching into her bag to pull stuff out. I was quite helpful and held the flashlight over her backpack.... Plus said encouraging things. She eventually found and squashed the offending insect, and then we headed to our hammocks for a surprisingly decent night's sleep.
Border Crossing [My First on Foot!]
7:30am the shuttle pulled up to Rocking J's, and Lindsay and I crawled in. We were joined by two Australian surfer dudes [Kain with his three boards, while Zac only brought two], and a Swiss German guy, Kevin- while none of us talked all that much on the way to the border, we'd end up hanging out quite a bit over the weekend. It took about an hour to reach the border, and I think all of were surprised when we finally hit it. It didn't appear at all like you'd expect the division between countries to look [maybe this was just my American ignorance coming into play, but I was expecting barbed wire, policemen, and guard dogs.... Oh, and also a luggage-checking station]. The entire crossing process consisted of a small office on the Costa Rican side where you filled out an immigration form and got an exit stamp, a rickety ex-train bridge with planks missing that you walked over, and an office on the Panamanian side where you got an entry stamp. The Costa Rican side moved along fairly quickly, but the Panamanian side was experiencing... difficulties, and the line literally did not move for over an hour. Finally the window opened, though, we got our stamps, and were whisked off in another shuttle.
We arrived at the dock around 11:00am, and after waiting for a bit, were shown into the least ferry-like ferry I've ever seen. Compared to the huge boat we'd taken getting to Montezuma [three stories, with the bottom level large enough to transport multiple semi trucks], taking this "ferry" was essentially the equivalent of hopping in the back of an already-crowded pickup truck- except on water. Not only was the boat the size of a large van, but our trip included a large group of [intoxicated] local teenagers toting booze, who spent the ride shouting to each other and singing at the top of their lungs. That's not even taking into account the actual ride itself- a jolting, bumpy experience where I more than once feared we'd capsize [Lindsay and I later agreed the trip felt like you were falling down stairs on your butt]. I was quite relieved when we made it to Isla Colon- the main island- in one piece.
Bocas
When we arrived at midday, the islands' Independence Day celebration had already begun: parades, gunshots, fireworks, you name it. While it was tempting to stick around and watch, hunger and the need to be relieved of our backpacks won out, so the five of us decided to catch a water taxi to the island where our hostel, Aqua Lounge, was located- a $1, minute-long trip.
Before booking our tour, Lindsay and I had done a bit of research on places to stay. Aqua Lounge topped the list on most sites we checked out. It's essentially the Rocking J's of Bocas- a major party hostel, best known for its crazy nights, and THE water trampoline. There turned out not to be that many beds in the hostel, though, so our party was lucky and scored the last few spots when we turned up. Lindsay and I ended up in a dorm with a large group of Israeli guys, some French dudes, and a pair of 18-year-old surfers [Jordan from Canada, and Yotom from Israel]. We said hi to everyone as we put our stuff away, but left right away to find a place to eat. On our way out the back door we ran into Ben from Montezuma- we'd been in communication with him about our plans to go to Bocas and thought there was a 50/50 chance he'd show up. It was nice to see another familiar face; the three of us headed out to grab some lunch.
After lunch [a laborious process of finding a restaurant and waiting for food that took us until 3:00pm], we just hung out at the hostel, talked with the guys we'd ridden down with, swam, and relaxed. Around 6:00pm, Lindsay and I decided to head to the main island for some exploring/dinner, and managed to convince Ben, Kain, Zac, and Kevin to come along. Turned out to be a good thing we left for dinner so early- we wouldn't end up eating for another three hours anyway.
Celebration!
We manage to arrive on Isla Colon at the exact perfect moment to watch the Independence Day Parade. The streets were swarming with people- everyone from every island had come to congregate on Isla Colon for the evening. The parade was made up of at least five separate groups of baton twirlers/drum lines [each with their own distinctive outfits], and in between each group, random guys would be walking around spraying fire from a can [seriously], or lighting off fireworks in the middle of the crowd- one batch of pyromaniacs lit theirs off so close to us, I could feel the hot ash raining down. The atmosphere was incredibly festive, and the music was so invigorating I don't think any of us stopped bobbing to the beat the entire two and a half hours we stood there. Our group definitely stood out- some of the only foreigners, and consistently exclaiming about something in the parade. We were probably just as interesting a spectacle for the Panamanians as the performers....
Eventually it got late enough that we needed food- fast. We searched the main road for a cheap rotisserie chicken place that had been recommended to us, and after successfully annoying the workers [mainly thanks to Kain's "chicken dance" while attempting to convey his order...], we sat down to the best chicken I can remember having. Ever. The delicious French fries that accompanied the meal didn't hurt, either. Having satisfied our bellies, we wandered back up the street to catch the parade's finale, in the process simultaneously meeting another group of travelers and losing Kevin. After pacing the streets shouting "Kevin from Switzerland!" at the top of our lungs for 20 unsuccessful minutes, we gave up looking for him [<- terrible travel buddies, I know], and headed to a local bar/dance club. [Hey, Kevin eventually made his way there as well, so it all turned out okay. Stop with the guilting.]
Ended up seeing most of the others from Aqua Lounge at the bar, and we danced insanely for a few hours. Hot, sweaty, crowded- and so much fun. Eventually Lindsay and I headed back to the hostel, though, to try and get some sleep before our tour
Yes I Will Lounge on a Catamaran for Seven Hours
^That's exactly what Lindsay and I did from 9:00am-4:00pm on Saturday. With a bit of dolphin watching [I saw one's back] and snorkeling [for, like, 20 minutes] thrown in. But the day was spent mostly sunbathing [and burning] on a catamaran. We lucked out with the weather- apparently it was the first gloriously sunny day in over a week. Success!
Saturday evening Lindsay and I showered and headed into town for an early dinner. We had okay sushi, but really delicious martinis, so overall dinner was good ;) Then we headed back to Aqua Lounge because that's where the big party was going to be. Plus it was Ladies' Night, which in Latin America means free drinks for girls for an hour. I ended up heading back to Isla Colon for about an hour with Jordan and Yotom- searching for an Internet cafe for Yotom- and we made it back to the hostel at the very end of Ladies' Night [literally, we arrived at 10:33pm, when free drinks were supposed to end at 10:30pm]. But somehow I managed to squeeze in getting three free drinks- two of which I gave to the guys, no worries Mom.
Saturday night was essentially a repeat of Friday- but much more fun, for some reason. Lots of dancing, meeting people, good music, etc. The bar closed at 3:00am and all non-guests were kicked out, but the rest of us staying at the hostel continued to hang out. I ended up crawling into bed around 5:00am, while Lindsay didn't come into the dorm until 6:20am- 20 minutes before we had to wake up to catch our ferry back to Costa Rica.... We both were feeling really great when the alarm went off at 6:45am.
Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig
Ferry to dock, shuttle to border, second shuttle to Puerto Viejo, just missed early bus to San Jose, waited for five hours until 4:00pm for bus to the capital, waited at sketchy station until 10:00pm for bus back to Atenas. Was asleep before head hit the pillow, and waking up Monday was brutal.
I feel like our trip to Bocas del Toro was my favorite because it had all the aspects of what traveling should be like. Parades, fireworks, music, dancing, delicious & cheap food, fun people to group up with, gorgeous scenery, late nights, and a bit of relaxation, just for kicks. In one word: amazing.
And did I mention we went to PANAMA???
xoxo, Cleome
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Weekend Trip #5: Monteverde
This trip occurred the weekend of Friday, November 6- Sunday, November 8. We only were out of town through Saturday, though.
Monteverde
Monteverde is best known for its famed cloud forest. The town itself is actually called Santa Elena, but they're essentially two names for the same place. Lindsay and I decided to go to Monteverde in order to accomplish a specific goal: zip line! We'd heard from multiple other travelers that the zip lining course there was gorgeous and really fun. While Lindsay had zip lined her first weekend here [the one trip she took without me], her experience was lackluster, so I managed to convince her it'd be fun to try again; I, on the other hand, had never been.
We figured this weekend would be a good one to hit Monteverde, because our services as volunteers were required in Atenas Saturday afternoon, so we could only stay over some place for one night [we'd promised the volunteer coordinator we'd help set up for a major dance recital she was putting on through the community center]. Since we'd booked a 7:30am tour for Saturday morning, we felt confident we could both fit in zip lining and helping with the recital.... Yeah, to assume things makes an ass out of u and me.
Let the Chaos Commence
By this point, it's a given that our carefully researched transportation information would fail us, so Lindsay and I barely glanced at the route from Palmares [where we'd be starting from right after work] to Monteverde. All we saw was that a direct bus existed from San Ramon, so figured we'd just head into the town and go from there.
We debated about stopping for lunch at a small restaurant, or /soda/, that we always pass on our walk to the Hogarcito, but decided we could wait until we got into San Ramon- a wise decision we'd realize later. We made it to the bus station in San Ramon around noon, and ambled over to the dollar store where our "informer" works [<- a nice lady who's helped us out in terms of bus schedules at least three separate times. We've come to feel so thankful for her, we legit discussed bringing her a flower that day. Maybe it was better that we forgot to...]. But when I asked her about the direct bus to Monteverde, she looked very confused and shook her head. No, there was no direct bus to Monteverde. You had to catch a bus to Puntarenas first, and then find one to the cloud forest. Lindsay and I thanked her, and made our way to the other bus station to catch the 2.5 hour bus ride to Puntarenas. Figures it wouldn't be as easy as a "direct bus."
We took the 12:35pm [which showed up closer to 1:00pm] to Puntarenas, getting in around 3:00pm. This is where our decision not to grab lunch in Palmares proved itself to be a life-saver: there were no more buses from Puntarenas to Monteverde on Friday. What? How does saving 20 minutes by not having lunch make a lack of buses any better? Here's how: while there was no bus to Monteverde itself, there was a bus leaving at 3:15pm to Liberia, and we were assured that the driver could drop us off at the entrance to Monteverde- whatever that meant. Had we sat down and gotten a real lunch, we would've had to spend the night in Puntarenas. So yay for not eating!
Another traveler also happened to be in our exact situation [a guy who's social skills had severely regressed thanks to just coming from 8 weeks of volunteering in the jungle...], so the three of us boarded the bus to Liberia. An hour into the ride, the bus pulled over beside a gas station, and we were informed this was the entrance to Monteverde. Huh? Extremely confused, we exited the bus and were immediately enshrouded in the dust cloud the bus left behind. We walked over to the store inside the gas station and asked the lady behind the counter how to get from there to Monteverde. She assured us a bus would arrive at 5:15pm, and we'd just have to flag it down. That gave us an hour to wait at the gas station, which we passed by becoming friends with the clerk [a motherly Nicaraguan named Maritza], and encountering yet another backpacker trying to get to Monteverde- Nonny, a volunteer in Nicaragua who was in Costa Rica to renew her visa.
So darkness begins to fall, 5:15pm comes and goes, and we've yet to catch a bus to Monteverde. We're sure we didn't miss it because a few locals are also waiting by the gas station, and just as Lindsay's on the verge of a panic attack- an empty tourism van drives by, backs up, and the guy inside says he'll take us to Monteverde for $4 each. We're so relieved to have a ride there that we just nod and climb in- turns out we payed $2 less than if we'd caught the public bus, anyway. It turned out to be a good thing we were in a small van, since the road was quite pockmarked by potholes, the street was scarily narrow, and [most noteworthy] the weather was terrible. By terrible I mean it was sleeting and windy and cold. But for Costa Rica, where even in the rainy season there's only precipitation a few times a week for a couple hours, the cold and the wind felt extremely foreign. [Lindsay later remarked it was almost refreshing to experience something other than heat and sun. Not sure if I agree, but I know what she means.]
We were dropped off in the center of town around 7:00pm, and said goodbye to Weirdo and Nonny [though we'd convinced Nonny to sign up for the same zip line tour as us, so we planned on seeing her again], as we'd all booked different hostels. Our hostel turned out to be small and sort of dumpy, but the wifi worked, an adorable fluffball of a dog lived there, and the guy who ran the place was totally awesome and into having a good time [he offered us shots even before we'd checked in...]. Plus, we'd find out later that the free breakfast was an amazing smorgasbord of food.
While grabbing dinner at a nearby restaurant [having braved the wind/rain to get there], Lindsay and I developed our new favorite time-passing game to play [trying to name all 50 states, and then their correct capitals. You may scoff now, but I dare you to try. We've tried it on other Americans, and most people can only make it to the low 40's before giving up], and then raced back to the hostel. We were content to just relax, seeing as we had to be up early tomorrow, but not having some sort of fun on a weekend in a hostel is pretty much impossible. The five other guests plus the host and Lindsay and I ended up playing some card games, and then Alonso [the person in charge of the hostel] suggested we go out to a bar in town. It wasn't an extremely appealing offer, but Lindsay and I figured we'd be stuck videotaping a little kids' dance recital the next night, so we might as well.
The bar we went to was sort of a weird situation because 1) you had to pay to get in [the first time I've come across that in Costa Rica- luckily, Alonso was nice enough to pay for Lindsay and I], and 2) there was a live band playing Latin music, but barely anyone was dancing, Tico or not. Luckily, Lindsay and I always bring the party ;). But actually. After hanging off to the side for a bit, we were both invited by Ticos to go dance, and after that I never left the dance floor- just swapped one partner for another. Eventually everyone had had enough of dancing, though, so we snuck downstairs for a quick game of [terrible] pool, and then headed back to the hostel and hit the hay.
Into the Jungle...
Saturday morning Lindsay and I awoke to our alarm blaring at 6:15am. We were getting picked up at 7:00am for our tour, so we wanted to give ourselves enough tine to wake up. Unfortunately, the day didn't look promising. Especially not for zip lining. We'd been hoping that the wind and rain would've died down overnight, but no such luck- it was just as nasty and wet and gray as when we'd arrived. After much debating about whether zip lining in these conditions would be worth it [we already knew it was going to be miserable, but the question was whether the tour would be cool enough to outweigh the misery or not], we decide to just go for it- we had come all this way to zip line, after all.
We were picked up by one if our guides, grabbed Nonny at her hostel, and headed out to the forest. After being suited up in harnesses, gloves, and helmets, we signed our waivers and were off! The two guides showed the three of us [the only people on our tour] to a huge Tarzan swing first, which swung you through a clearing out over the tree tops- extremely exhilarating. Then we began the actual zip lining. There were 15 cables we zipped on, as well as a huge fig tree we descended and then climbed up through. Zip lining was fun, and even in the not-so-great weather, the views were amazing. However, besides the first and last few cables [one of which the wind was so strong it stopped me 15 feet from the ending platform, and I had to pull myself the rest of the way], zip lining itself wasn't all that exciting. I guess I was just expecting something a bit more adrenaline-inducing. We had a good time, though. And luckily the weather eased up throughout our time in the tree tops, until eventually we could see bits of blue sky and the rain had pretty much stopped. The tour took about two hours, and afterwards we thanked our guides, stopped by the bus station to buy tickets to San Jose on the 2:00pm bus, and headed back to the hostel.
...And Out to the Town
We spent the time between the tour and catching our bus chowing down on our hostel's free breakfast [bananas, chocolate cereal, peanut butter, bread, and coffee- what more could you ask for?], visiting the local ice cream shop, and checking out a souvenir store. Eventually we said goodbye to Alonso and Nonny, and walked over to catch our bus. The ride took four hours to get to the highway leading to San Jose. Remember, we were supposed to be back around 5:00pm to help set up and then attend this dance recital. We figured we probably wouldn't make it in time to set up, but we could definitely be there to help clean up around 9:00pm, no problem, right? Not quite....
We would've made it, had it not been for a bridge that was down. Thanks to being unable to continue on its normal route, our bus turned off the road we were familiar with [and where our sketchy highway stop is located] and instead headed to downtown San Jose. As soon as we realized where we were headed, we knew we were screwed. Going into San Jose was an hour more bus ride in itself, not to mention the amount of time we'd have to wait at the bus station to then catch another hour-long bus back to Atenas. Grrr. We got into the capital around 7:00pm, and [thanks to being escorted by a kind, young, paramedic-to-be] made it to our bus station only to learn that we had an hour and a half to wait before the next bus to Atenas. We sat in the creepy station trying not to fall asleep [by trying to name the state capitals, actually], and finally hopped on the 8:30pm bus home. Needless to say, we arrived well after the dance recital ended.... We're sorry, Tina!
A Day in Atenas
Sunday, November 8th was the only entire weekend day Lindsay and I spent together in town. It was actually quite relaxing to wake up and not have to do... anything. No volunteering, no bus rides :to miss:, no nothing. We spent out free day just chilling in the morning, venturing out for iced coffee (her) and scalding hot coffee (me), and then she accompanied me to the grocery store [ohmygodilovethoseplaces] so I could buy ingredients for the chicken & wild rice soup I was making. <- I'd brought wild rice down as a present for my host family, but seeing as they didn't even know it existed, I offered to make them a meal with it.
The soup took me four hours to make. I attribute this to 1) I hadn't cooked in over two months, 2) I'd never actually made the soup before, and 3) only one burner worked on the stove. But by 7:00pm there was piping hot soup ready, and while it didn't look or taste anything like what my mom makes at home [oh the joys of eyeballing measurements and improvising ingredients], it was still deemed "rico" by my host family, so I guess it was successful. Or they just were kind enough not to hurt my feelings....
Yep, the weekend of zip lining and soup. Pura vida.
xoxo, Cleome
Monday, November 26, 2012
Weekend #4: Montezuma [aka The Non-Existant Post]
I've written about this weekend in immaculate detail TWICE now. And both times the posts magically deleted themselves. Incredibly frustrating. I know the third time's normally the charm, but I just can't.
So I'm giving you a Cliff notes version instead. [And maybe someday I'll come back and write the real thing. Or you can just fill in the blanks with your imagination.]
Dates: November 2-4
Place: Montezuma- small beach community on the Pacific side
Story:
Supposed to run a marathon, plans fall through, decide to go to Montezuma since Emma [other Hogarcito volunteer] and friends were.
Continuing theme of transportation issues. Involving three buses and a ferry this time.
Lindsay and Emma sick. I share room with both. Go to sleep Friday not sure if I'll wake up.
Wake up.
Search for snorkeling tour. Boats left at 9:00am, we asked at 9:30am. Screwed. Damn.
Local man says he can take us snorkeling. Falls through.
Meet Ben from Texas.
Local man says he can take us [now six with Ben and Emma's three friends] snorkeling. Boat won't start.
Pout.
Visit waterfall by fording river and climbing through jungle. Scenic.
Jump off rocks into water. Tarzan swing.
[Insert witty bracketed comment here.]
Meet Marcos and increase crew number to seven.
Go to top of waterfall. Swim.
Lindsay is a daredevil.
Lindsay Lindsay Lindsay.
I'mobsessedwithLindsay.
35-foot jump.
Lindsay before jumping: So excited.
Me: I do not condone your actions.
Lindsay after jumping: Ouch.
[And here.]
Spotted- breathtaking view and monkeys.
Dinner. Nomnom.
Ubiquitous night out. Dancing.
Unintentionally played hide and seek. Where did everyone go?
Bed.
Lazy Sunday.
Attempted beach run. Hot & sharp rocks. Ouch.
Transport home. Problems.
Return late.
Token sarcastic ending comment.
Good time.
xoxo, Cleome
So I'm giving you a Cliff notes version instead. [And maybe someday I'll come back and write the real thing. Or you can just fill in the blanks with your imagination.]
Dates: November 2-4
Place: Montezuma- small beach community on the Pacific side
Story:
Supposed to run a marathon, plans fall through, decide to go to Montezuma since Emma [other Hogarcito volunteer] and friends were.
Continuing theme of transportation issues. Involving three buses and a ferry this time.
Lindsay and Emma sick. I share room with both. Go to sleep Friday not sure if I'll wake up.
Wake up.
Search for snorkeling tour. Boats left at 9:00am, we asked at 9:30am. Screwed. Damn.
Local man says he can take us snorkeling. Falls through.
Meet Ben from Texas.
Local man says he can take us [now six with Ben and Emma's three friends] snorkeling. Boat won't start.
Pout.
Visit waterfall by fording river and climbing through jungle. Scenic.
Jump off rocks into water. Tarzan swing.
[Insert witty bracketed comment here.]
Meet Marcos and increase crew number to seven.
Go to top of waterfall. Swim.
Lindsay is a daredevil.
Lindsay Lindsay Lindsay.
I'mobsessedwithLindsay.
35-foot jump.
Lindsay before jumping: So excited.
Me: I do not condone your actions.
Lindsay after jumping: Ouch.
[And here.]
Spotted- breathtaking view and monkeys.
Dinner. Nomnom.
Ubiquitous night out. Dancing.
Unintentionally played hide and seek. Where did everyone go?
Bed.
Lazy Sunday.
Attempted beach run. Hot & sharp rocks. Ouch.
Transport home. Problems.
Return late.
Token sarcastic ending comment.
Good time.
xoxo, Cleome
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Travel Tips I Picked Up, Take 1
- Take advantage of [but don't go overboard] on free food. While traveling, unless you're in a home-stay with a predictable three meals/day schedule, there's often no way of knowing what or when your next meal will be. For instance, in Monteverde the hostel provided breakfast for no fee. While Lindsay took one approach and, as she calls it, "ate for hibernation," I went the other route and made myself a peanut butter & chocolate cereal sandwich for the road. It came in handy.
- Eating out can get ridiculously expensive. Then again, cooking takes time and energy....
- Alcohol is usually involved in meeting people. Therefore, plan on drinking at any and all moments [and budget that into your expected spending].
- Most locals are quite nice and want to help travelers out. I can't tell you how many times people have offered to guide us places upon being asked for directions, or how accommodating people can be if there's a problem. Or just how thoughtful people can seem when you're overwhelmed in a foreign post office collecting a package, and they offer you a piece of candy because you look completely lost/bewildered [I know this goes against the whole "don't accept candy from strangers" wisdom, but different circumstances call for different types of advice].
- Bank schedules differ all over the place, so make sure you leave plenty of time to deal with money transactions that need to occur in a bank. Luckily, most ATM's are 24 hours.
- ALWAYS have your passport [or a copy] on you while traveling. Very important. You really don't want to spend a needless five hours in a police station trying to convince the officers that you're not here illegally- you just left your passport in your hostel. <- I´m not speaking from personal experience here, but I did have a close call in Puerto Viejo during my first weekend trip. Luckily, the policeman glanced at Dean and Lindsay´s passports, and overlooked me. I guess I just don´t have a face that screams "I´m a fugitive." But seriously, I doubt getting deported is on anyone´s to do list.
- Reading generally deters people from trying to interact with you, so by all means do so if you really don´t want to be approached. However, if you´re trying to meet people, a book could also be used as a tool, because you can set it down once you feel ready to begin socializing.
- Having no set plans generally leads to the best time traveling, experience-wise. By not having a concrete schedule, you allow yourself to be more open and available to spontaneous opportunities that eventually make really good memories/travel stories. Though doing a bit of research about the locations in which you will be stopping also helps for moments of boredom, or should other opportunities not surface. [I think a large part of why I had no fun for my half-day in San Jose is due to the fact that I had no idea what there was to do there. If I went now, I know to go visit the National Theater and the Gold Museum.]
- Taking the laces and soles out of wet tennis shoes helps them dry much faster than they would´ve otherwise. Like, overnight.
Those are a few of the lessons I´ve learned/picked up/been shown. Many more to ensue, I´m sure.
xoxo, Cleome
Shout Out
Lindsay, I love you and I´ll miss you. My trip wouldn´t have been the same without you.
Keep in touch!
xoxo, Cleome
Keep in touch!
xoxo, Cleome
Weekend Trip #3: Manuel Antonio
I've realized since I'm posting about these weekends so long after they happened, maybe dates would be a helpful detail. Right? My Manuel Antonio adventure took place the weekend of October 26, 27, and 28. [I realize this is almost a month behind, but bear with me- I'm slowly but surely working on becoming up-to-date.]
Manuel Antonio
Manuel Antonio is one of the most well-known national parks in Costa Rica. It's famed for the abundant amount of wildlife you can see there, as well as its three gorgeous beaches. While there are about a gagillion national parks in Costa Rica one could visit, the reason Lindsay and I [by this point Dean had gone] chose Manuel Antonio was because the large group of other volunteers we'd met the weekend before at La Fortuna (plus Floris, Jo, and this guy Sindre they'd picked up) were all going to be there as well. It was going to be one big reunion party. With a bit of nature on the side.
Getting There aka The Worst Travel Mishap of Them All
That title up there doesn't sound too promising, huh? Well you can decide for yourself after reading about how you'd categorize it. Here's what happened: So using our young, intelligent, technologically-capable brains, Lindsay and I had looked up buses from Atenas to Manuel Antonio on our friend thebusschedule.com, and had learned of the existence of a direct bus, leaving Atenas at 3:00pm. So we did our normal volunteering on Friday, got home and had lunch, and met up around 2:45pm at the corner to walk to the bus terminal together. Of course [having the amazing transportation luck that we do], it turns out the Manuel Antonio bus didn't stop at the central bus station. No, you had to flag it down on the side of the highway on the edge of town, whenever it happened to pass by. Hearing this, we raced to the highway stop, just in time to see a bus zoom past two seconds before we got there. Damn.
Obviously at that point we were not in our clearest frames of mind. We'd just witnessed the only bus of the day to our destination whiz past, and had no idea what to do. So naturally, we panicked, causing us to make a rash decision- one that would cost us three hours of needless travel time. We ended up flagging down a bus to San Jose that pulled up a few minutes after we got to the stop. We just jumped on, not really paying attention to the fact that the Manuel Antonio bus was heading in the opposite direstion of San Jose- we just figured that we could get anywhere from San Jose [which is true, so our wits hadn't completely fled us]. After an unhappy hour-long ride to the capital [filled with attempting to communicate in Spanish via texting with Lindsay's host sister about bus schedules], we arrived and jumped off the bus, racing over to the police stationed at the stop and asked how to get to Manuel Antonio. We learned that we'd want to find a bus to Quepos [a town 15 minutes from Manuel Antonio], but those buses left from a station all the way across town... great. Luckily the police guy we talked to was nice enough to find us a cab and tell him where to go [which also hopefully deterred him from cheating us]. The cab ride was not fun: it was through a clogged, noisy San Jose on a Friday afternoon; the cabbie appeared to be taking the longest route possible, and Lindsay and I were both still worried about actually finding a bus to take us there- at that point we were just hoping something would work out.
Our luck finally improved when we hit the bus station. The cab driver accepted less money than the meter said [we were only a few bucks short], there was a bus to Quepos that was leaving at 5:00pm [right when we arrived], and we got the bus to ourselves. No joke. An entire greyhound for just the two of us. It felt a bit creepy, but we just shook our heads and went with it. [While the bus eventually picked up some other people, by the time we were two hours into our four-hour ride we were once again the only two passengers.] We both kicked ourselves when the bus passed Atenas around 6:40pm, since it meant we'd wasted three hours and $10, but maybe it was meant to be, becuase thanks to being essentially chauffeured to Quepos, the bus driver was fine with stopping for us at a gas station when we had to pee.
The [Real] Weekend Begins
We got into Quepos around 9:00pm, caught the bus to Manuel Antonio at 9:30pm, and aririved at our hostel [and into a welcoming party] just before check-in time ended at 10:00pm. After putting our stuff away in the dorm room we were sharing with Floris, Jo, and Sindre [whom we were introduced to], all 10 of us [our dorm and the Canadians] headed out to a nearby bar for Ladies' Night. We all had a fun time talking and dancing, and headed back to the dorms around 2:00am for some much needed sleep.
Satuday was national park/beach day! After a free breakfast of flies with a side of pancakes [not kidding, unfortunately], we all suited up to get out in the gorgeous day. We wandered through the national park trails for about half an hour [being cheap and just listening in on groups that had paid for guides]. We saw snakes, lizards, spiders, monkeys, birds, and a racoon. But nothing too impressive [though at the end we saw a sloth with its baby, so that was really cool]. Then we checked out the three beaches contained in the park. The first was nice, but crowded. The second was small and secluded, but not very good for swimming. The third was perfect: empty, big, good-sized waves, warm water, and beautiful white sand. We spent a while there, doing flips, chicken fighting, and body surfing. By that point we all were pretty hungry, so we decided to leave the park and grab some lunch before heading back to the hostel to wash up.
Crocodile Crossing
In order to leave Manuel Antonio through the back entrance, you need to cross over a 10-foot wide river. There are rowboats sitting there to take you across, and you're supposed to tip the guys who give you a lift. Fair enough. However, the boat handlers that day were feeling a bit tricky, and when we climbed in they informed us it'd be $10 to cross this stream that looked like you could nearly jump over. We all looked at each other in disbelief, and hauled ass out of the boat. While the guys informed us it was way too deep to wade through, an adventurous member of our group hoisted his backpack and shoes over his head, and made it to the other side no problem. The rest of us followed suit- we were already in our bathing suits, so who cares if we got wet. [Me being shorter than the average guy did find the crossing a little harder- at its deepest the water came up to my chin- but I made it just fine.]. It was only when we hit the other side of the river, connected to the public beach and main road, that we saw the signs that said "Peligro: Cocodrillos" Danger: Crocodiles. Ooohhh. Well if one of us had gotten attacked, we probably would've regretted not paying the $10, but seeing as it all turned out okay, it was definitely worth getting wet.
Lunch was where everyone got their tans from that day. It was HOT. And very sunny. Towels were used as very attractive head coverings, and the sun even inspired three of the girls to go into a nearby store and buy fedoras [only $10! Don't tell...]. After a loooong wait, we got our food, were charged a ridiculous amount of "tax," and headed back to our hostel to relax a bit before nighttime hit. We ended up cooking at the hostel- a delicious mish-mash of food that included guacamole, pineapple (cut by yours truly), tortilla chips and cheese dip, and sausages. Oh, and Lindsay bought me a ginormous carrot, because I asked for it [thanks sister!]. Tiaan said grace [?] and then we dug in, polishing off the huge spread. We then played some card games, swung on the Tarzan swing, and danced down on the pool grounds. Eventually [it was Halloween weekend after all] we headed out to a costume party at a nearby bar [sans costumes, unfortunately- we were so under dressed]. We listened to the live band and had a good time, knowing that in the morning we'd have to say goodbye for probably the last time- we were all headed separate ways/half the group was leaving Costa Rica soon.
Sunday morning we once again chowed down our free breakfast of pancakes & flies, and then had a leisurely pack up/goodbye time before hitting the bus to Quepos. We hooked a direct bus from Quepos to San Jose [though we were planning on getting off at the roadside near Atenas], and zoned out for the four hours it took to get back "home." <- one of the few weekends we made it back before dark
A fun time, withthe sunburn to prove it just kidding, Mom ;)
xoxo, Cleome
Manuel Antonio
Manuel Antonio is one of the most well-known national parks in Costa Rica. It's famed for the abundant amount of wildlife you can see there, as well as its three gorgeous beaches. While there are about a gagillion national parks in Costa Rica one could visit, the reason Lindsay and I [by this point Dean had gone] chose Manuel Antonio was because the large group of other volunteers we'd met the weekend before at La Fortuna (plus Floris, Jo, and this guy Sindre they'd picked up) were all going to be there as well. It was going to be one big reunion party. With a bit of nature on the side.
Getting There aka The Worst Travel Mishap of Them All
That title up there doesn't sound too promising, huh? Well you can decide for yourself after reading about how you'd categorize it. Here's what happened: So using our young, intelligent, technologically-capable brains, Lindsay and I had looked up buses from Atenas to Manuel Antonio on our friend thebusschedule.com, and had learned of the existence of a direct bus, leaving Atenas at 3:00pm. So we did our normal volunteering on Friday, got home and had lunch, and met up around 2:45pm at the corner to walk to the bus terminal together. Of course [having the amazing transportation luck that we do], it turns out the Manuel Antonio bus didn't stop at the central bus station. No, you had to flag it down on the side of the highway on the edge of town, whenever it happened to pass by. Hearing this, we raced to the highway stop, just in time to see a bus zoom past two seconds before we got there. Damn.
Obviously at that point we were not in our clearest frames of mind. We'd just witnessed the only bus of the day to our destination whiz past, and had no idea what to do. So naturally, we panicked, causing us to make a rash decision- one that would cost us three hours of needless travel time. We ended up flagging down a bus to San Jose that pulled up a few minutes after we got to the stop. We just jumped on, not really paying attention to the fact that the Manuel Antonio bus was heading in the opposite direstion of San Jose- we just figured that we could get anywhere from San Jose [which is true, so our wits hadn't completely fled us]. After an unhappy hour-long ride to the capital [filled with attempting to communicate in Spanish via texting with Lindsay's host sister about bus schedules], we arrived and jumped off the bus, racing over to the police stationed at the stop and asked how to get to Manuel Antonio. We learned that we'd want to find a bus to Quepos [a town 15 minutes from Manuel Antonio], but those buses left from a station all the way across town... great. Luckily the police guy we talked to was nice enough to find us a cab and tell him where to go [which also hopefully deterred him from cheating us]. The cab ride was not fun: it was through a clogged, noisy San Jose on a Friday afternoon; the cabbie appeared to be taking the longest route possible, and Lindsay and I were both still worried about actually finding a bus to take us there- at that point we were just hoping something would work out.
Our luck finally improved when we hit the bus station. The cab driver accepted less money than the meter said [we were only a few bucks short], there was a bus to Quepos that was leaving at 5:00pm [right when we arrived], and we got the bus to ourselves. No joke. An entire greyhound for just the two of us. It felt a bit creepy, but we just shook our heads and went with it. [While the bus eventually picked up some other people, by the time we were two hours into our four-hour ride we were once again the only two passengers.] We both kicked ourselves when the bus passed Atenas around 6:40pm, since it meant we'd wasted three hours and $10, but maybe it was meant to be, becuase thanks to being essentially chauffeured to Quepos, the bus driver was fine with stopping for us at a gas station when we had to pee.
The [Real] Weekend Begins
We got into Quepos around 9:00pm, caught the bus to Manuel Antonio at 9:30pm, and aririved at our hostel [and into a welcoming party] just before check-in time ended at 10:00pm. After putting our stuff away in the dorm room we were sharing with Floris, Jo, and Sindre [whom we were introduced to], all 10 of us [our dorm and the Canadians] headed out to a nearby bar for Ladies' Night. We all had a fun time talking and dancing, and headed back to the dorms around 2:00am for some much needed sleep.
Satuday was national park/beach day! After a free breakfast of flies with a side of pancakes [not kidding, unfortunately], we all suited up to get out in the gorgeous day. We wandered through the national park trails for about half an hour [being cheap and just listening in on groups that had paid for guides]. We saw snakes, lizards, spiders, monkeys, birds, and a racoon. But nothing too impressive [though at the end we saw a sloth with its baby, so that was really cool]. Then we checked out the three beaches contained in the park. The first was nice, but crowded. The second was small and secluded, but not very good for swimming. The third was perfect: empty, big, good-sized waves, warm water, and beautiful white sand. We spent a while there, doing flips, chicken fighting, and body surfing. By that point we all were pretty hungry, so we decided to leave the park and grab some lunch before heading back to the hostel to wash up.
Crocodile Crossing
In order to leave Manuel Antonio through the back entrance, you need to cross over a 10-foot wide river. There are rowboats sitting there to take you across, and you're supposed to tip the guys who give you a lift. Fair enough. However, the boat handlers that day were feeling a bit tricky, and when we climbed in they informed us it'd be $10 to cross this stream that looked like you could nearly jump over. We all looked at each other in disbelief, and hauled ass out of the boat. While the guys informed us it was way too deep to wade through, an adventurous member of our group hoisted his backpack and shoes over his head, and made it to the other side no problem. The rest of us followed suit- we were already in our bathing suits, so who cares if we got wet. [Me being shorter than the average guy did find the crossing a little harder- at its deepest the water came up to my chin- but I made it just fine.]. It was only when we hit the other side of the river, connected to the public beach and main road, that we saw the signs that said "Peligro: Cocodrillos" Danger: Crocodiles. Ooohhh. Well if one of us had gotten attacked, we probably would've regretted not paying the $10, but seeing as it all turned out okay, it was definitely worth getting wet.
Lunch was where everyone got their tans from that day. It was HOT. And very sunny. Towels were used as very attractive head coverings, and the sun even inspired three of the girls to go into a nearby store and buy fedoras [only $10! Don't tell...]. After a loooong wait, we got our food, were charged a ridiculous amount of "tax," and headed back to our hostel to relax a bit before nighttime hit. We ended up cooking at the hostel- a delicious mish-mash of food that included guacamole, pineapple (cut by yours truly), tortilla chips and cheese dip, and sausages. Oh, and Lindsay bought me a ginormous carrot, because I asked for it [thanks sister!]. Tiaan said grace [?] and then we dug in, polishing off the huge spread. We then played some card games, swung on the Tarzan swing, and danced down on the pool grounds. Eventually [it was Halloween weekend after all] we headed out to a costume party at a nearby bar [sans costumes, unfortunately- we were so under dressed]. We listened to the live band and had a good time, knowing that in the morning we'd have to say goodbye for probably the last time- we were all headed separate ways/half the group was leaving Costa Rica soon.
Sunday morning we once again chowed down our free breakfast of pancakes & flies, and then had a leisurely pack up/goodbye time before hitting the bus to Quepos. We hooked a direct bus from Quepos to San Jose [though we were planning on getting off at the roadside near Atenas], and zoned out for the four hours it took to get back "home." <- one of the few weekends we made it back before dark
A fun time, with
xoxo, Cleome
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Weekend Trip #2: La Fortuna
La Fortuna
La Fortuna is known as a tourist destination {in high-season anyway} as it is the town closest to the Arenal Volcano and its surrounding national park. The Arenal Volcano was Costa Rica´s most active volcano (and one of the top ten most active ones in the world), but since 2010 its explosions have died down, and it has been pretty quiet since {though it did erupt unexpectedly in 1968 and destroy the small town of Tabacon, so you never know...}. Lindsay, Dean, and I decided to go there because both Lindsay and I had never seen a real, live volcano before, and Arenal is quite well-known.
Dean once again took off Thursday night, saying he may or may not be traveling with us that weekend. He said if he was at the hostel on Friday night, then he´d be there, and if not we were to presume he was off at some other destination. I fully expected him to come to Arenal, but Lindsay had her doubts. We´d find out in no time, regardless.
The Journey
Friday afternoon Lindsay and I went directly from volunteering at the Hogarcito to the major bus terminal of Palmares. We´d done some research {using the handy-but-not-always-reliable busschedule.com} into transportation, and discovered that a bus left from San Ramon (a large town 10 minutes away from where we volunteer in Palmares) at 12:30pm, so we planned to take the 12:15pm bus from Palmares in order to get there on time. It probably all would have worked out, except that the 12:15pm bus from Palmares didn´t end up appearing until 12:25, meaning we missed our connection in San Ramon by about 20 minutes by the time we´d located the bus station.
After talking to a nice lady working in a small store at the bus station {she´s now become our go-to helper whenever we end up in San Ramon}, we learned the next bus to La Fortuna was at 4:00pm- meaning we had an almost three-hour period to entertain ourselves in San Ramon. Fortunately, in the never-ending search for an American-style iced coffee {have I mentioned Lindsay´s obsessed with iced coffee? In Costa Rica they always blend the ice into the coffee, and sometimes add ice cream- it results in a tasty drink, but not exactly what she´s looking for...} we happened upon a University museum with a few art and biological exhibits. We wandered around there for a bit, though once we saw a preserved human fetus in a plastic jar, we were pretty ready to get the hell out of there. We then spent the next few hours tracking down the McDonald´s we were both positive we spotted on the bus ride into town {don´t judge}. You´ve no idea how accomplished we felt when we eventually found it,and in celebration bought french fries (Lindsay) and a twist ice cream cone (me).
Thus sated, we headed back to the bus station in time to catch the bus and finally begin our journey to Arenal. We arrived four hours later in the dark- no stunning view of the looming volcano for us yet. After being accosted by tour guides, we extracted ourselves and made our way to the hostel. We walked inside and were greeted by the sight of Dean {! told you so, Lindsay}, already hard at... work... hanging out with a large, rowdy group of people. Lindsay and I checked in, dropped our stuff on our bunk beds, and headed out to join the party.
Friday Night Meet & Greet
The people we saw Dean with turned out to be a fun bunch of volunteers based in San Ramon {of all places}- four Canadian guys (Bryan, Ryan, Ryan, Tiaan) and one American girl (Kelsey). Also amassed in our new group of friends was a British girl, Jo, and a Dutch guy, Floris. They all introduced themselves, and quickly invited Lindsay and I to sit down. The rest of the night is just one big, enjoyable blur. After talking and joking around for a while {and being invited to chill with them in Manuel Antonio the next weekend}, our group decided to hit the pool for a late night dip {during which chicken-fighting and the origin of our motto "Pop a tit" occurred...}. We then returned nice and soggy to the common area to meet with some more hostel guests. Everyone had stuff planned for early the next morning, though, so by 2:00am we decided to call it a night and go to bed.
On the Road to Cerro Chato (and Other Natural Wonders)
Saturday morning Lindsay, Dean, and I awoke relatively early {it´s actually ridiculously hard to sleep in in Costa Rica, thanks to the early morning sunrise and rooster crows}, and met up with Floris (from the night before) to plan our day´s adventure. We were positive that we wanted to check out the Arenal waterfall, as it was supposed to be gorgeous, and had also heard about this hike up a small, extinct volcano right next to Arenal that provided a great view of the active volcano- and a lake-filled crater existed at the top that you could swim in. The smaller volcano was known as Cerro Chato.
At Floris´s suggestion, we decided to rent bikes and ride to the entrance of the waterfall (only a 30 minute trip, or so we were told)- that idea was doomed from the beginning. We did manage to find four, seemingly functional bikes to rent in town, but our luck went downhill from there. As soon as we passed our hostel, Lindsay´s chain fell off, twice. And the second time Dean attempted to fix it {as the rest of us stood on the side of the road, sweating in the hot sun}, he cut his thumb and had to run into a nearby restaurant for some antiseptic to wash it out. After 20 minutes of fruitless tinkering, we called it quits and decided to go exchange her bike for one that actually worked. But, as our luck would have it, the rental place only had those four bikes. And the one up the hill had two bikes out front, but actually they were reserved. And the hotel over the bridge that rented bikes didn´t have any left either. Lindsay was extremely frustrated after our third unsuccessful visit, so I decided to give the guys my bike to return as well, and said we´d meet them {who were still so intent on biking} at the waterfall- the girls were taking a taxi.
Turns out our decision not to bike was the right one to make. Lindsay and I arrived at the waterfall a bit after 11:00am, a whole 1.5 hours before the boys did. As we climbed down the 493 steps to the falls, admired the beautiful 70 meter cascade of water, swam in the natural pool there, and sunbathed on the rocks nearby, Dean and Floris were {so they say} struggling up an incredibly steep, difficult hill in order to reach the entrance. I´m pretty sure they got lost and went the long, wrong way to the falls, as our cab ride was only 10 minutes and the roads we took were relatively flat. But anyway, the bike trip was apparently so exhausting that the guys could speak of nothing but how tired and sore they were the whole rest of the day. I kid you not- the. whole. day. Lindsay and I eventually just tuned them out....
After letting the guys rest and take in the exquisiteness that was the waterfall, Lindsay and I told them we were heading back up the 493 steps to the top in order to start the hike up Cerro Chato. They moaned and groaned and acted like big babies, but eventually convinced each other that, though they already done the equivalent of 15 workouts thanks to the bike ride, they could probably make it up Cerro Chato. I think they mostly just were afraid of being showed up by two girls {and possibly missing out on something really cool}.
We payed our entrance fee and met another American couple who were also starting the hike at the same time, so the six of us set out up the volcano around 1:00pm. All of us had heard that the hike was steep, grueling, and would take about two hours to make it each way; we initially scoffed at that- WE were young, fit, and determined. How hard could this hike actually be? Answer: very.
Okay, so the beginning of the climb was fine. We all joked about how, if this was considered hard, we'd be back in an hour. We kept up a good pace and admired the great views we were getting, as well as the lush trail we were following. Then, about 20 minutes in, it began to sprinkle. And everything went to hell.
The Hike from Hell
Right after it started sprinkling {which was actually welcomed at first, as we were all damp with sweat at that point anyway}, we hit the part of the hike that switched from a relatively flat, well-defined path, to steeper, grass- and mud-covered hills. By a bit into that portion of the hike, the rain had increased to a pretty heavy downpour, so rain was not only dripping off us in rivulets, but coming down the hill in small streams as well. Conversation dropped off, and we all focused on making it up the hill without slipping and falling on our asses. Eventually we had climbed high enough to where we'd reached the jungle near the summit of the mountain. Unfortunately, it was also the most challenging part of the hike.
Imagine doing a lunge up a stair. Then another. And another. Endlessly. Now, let's be creative and add in some other fun stuff. Torrential rain? Check. Waterfalls cascading down each step? Got that too. Slippery mud, trippable tree roots, extreme elevation? Yes x3. Now take how you'd imagine you'd be feeling after 45 minutes of that, multiply it by 50, and you'll be close to how I felt. It got to the point where I seriously contemplated turning around- Dean and Floris had after 15 minutes of being in the jungle portion- and all that kept me going was the promise of a lake-filled crater at the top {and the ability to brag about making it all the way up later. Assuming I actually survived the journey}.
Finally, relieving-ly, we reached a flat spot at the top of Cerro Chato from which you climbed down through the forest for only about five minutes to reach the crater lake. We came into the clearing at the beach on the lake, and gasped in amazement: the water was bright green. I'd never seen anything like it before. It was so beautiful I wish I could show you what it looked like, but of course my camera had run out of battery 10 minutes into the hike.... The four of us: Lindsay, the couple, and I {the champions who made it ;)}, stripped down to our undies and dove in. We had a group of local kids- the only other people there- take some pictures of us, and then decided we should head back before it got dark. Regretfully we began the climb back, but when we reached the flat spot at the very tip again, it was as though the clouds had been waiting for our arrival to clear. We had the most breathtaking view of the Arenal volcano- it was such a serendipitous moment, and it made the entire, hellish climb worth it {the lake was cool, but I was a bit underwhelmed}. I still have a hard time believing that happened.
The climb back down was exhilarating in its own way. Luckily it had stopped raining by then, but the steps {not to mention our clothes/shoes} were sopping wet and muddy, making our "climb" down more of a jump-from-step-to-step-and-hope-you-don't-end-up-slipping-all-the-way-down sort of game. {We took a clue from the local kids who literally ran down the mountain, every once in a while falling and laughing hysterically- the Costa Rican version of skiing, I suppose.} We made it back to where we´d started about four hours after we began. In one piece, but a lot more worse for the wear.
The couple was nice enough to give us a ride to our hostel in their rental car, and once we arrived we both headed straight to the showers {my first hot shower in over a month, and it was glorious}. Lindsay and I headed out to grab dinner in town with a few other girls from the hostel. We both ordered HUGE casados (the typical Costa Rican dish: rice, beans, fried plantains, meat, steamed veggies, and a green salad. This one was premium and included mashed potatoes with cheese, tortilla chips, a tuna salad, and a beet salad, as well}, and you better believed we devoured them all in record time. The other girls sort of exchanged horrified glances at our maniac eating until we explained that we'd had nothing but raw green beans since breakfast, had gone on this incredibly exhausting hike, and were therefore starving. They understood after that. That night we were supposed to go out dancing around 11:00pm with a group of guys we´d met at the waterfall... but we had both fallen asleep by 8:30pm, and didn't wake up until morning. Oops.
Sunday
After a nice, relaxing brunch with Floris, Jo, and an Australian named Lucy, Dean, Lindsay, and I packed up our stuff, said our goodbyes, and headed out to catch the bus back to Atenas. No major horror stories about transportation this time- though the bus situation didn't go exactly according to plan, the longest we had to wait for a connection was only an hour, and we made it back to Atenas by dinner time. The worst part of the trip home was having to stand on the bus for the 45 minute ride from where we got off on the side of the highway {a sketchy stop, but it saves us an hour of going into and then back out of the city of Alajuela} to Atenas.
All in all, a fun, successful weekend. Though my thighs could feel that hike for days after.
Ouch.
xoxo, Cleome
La Fortuna is known as a tourist destination {in high-season anyway} as it is the town closest to the Arenal Volcano and its surrounding national park. The Arenal Volcano was Costa Rica´s most active volcano (and one of the top ten most active ones in the world), but since 2010 its explosions have died down, and it has been pretty quiet since {though it did erupt unexpectedly in 1968 and destroy the small town of Tabacon, so you never know...}. Lindsay, Dean, and I decided to go there because both Lindsay and I had never seen a real, live volcano before, and Arenal is quite well-known.
Dean once again took off Thursday night, saying he may or may not be traveling with us that weekend. He said if he was at the hostel on Friday night, then he´d be there, and if not we were to presume he was off at some other destination. I fully expected him to come to Arenal, but Lindsay had her doubts. We´d find out in no time, regardless.
The Journey
Friday afternoon Lindsay and I went directly from volunteering at the Hogarcito to the major bus terminal of Palmares. We´d done some research {using the handy-but-not-always-reliable busschedule.com} into transportation, and discovered that a bus left from San Ramon (a large town 10 minutes away from where we volunteer in Palmares) at 12:30pm, so we planned to take the 12:15pm bus from Palmares in order to get there on time. It probably all would have worked out, except that the 12:15pm bus from Palmares didn´t end up appearing until 12:25, meaning we missed our connection in San Ramon by about 20 minutes by the time we´d located the bus station.
After talking to a nice lady working in a small store at the bus station {she´s now become our go-to helper whenever we end up in San Ramon}, we learned the next bus to La Fortuna was at 4:00pm- meaning we had an almost three-hour period to entertain ourselves in San Ramon. Fortunately, in the never-ending search for an American-style iced coffee {have I mentioned Lindsay´s obsessed with iced coffee? In Costa Rica they always blend the ice into the coffee, and sometimes add ice cream- it results in a tasty drink, but not exactly what she´s looking for...} we happened upon a University museum with a few art and biological exhibits. We wandered around there for a bit, though once we saw a preserved human fetus in a plastic jar, we were pretty ready to get the hell out of there. We then spent the next few hours tracking down the McDonald´s we were both positive we spotted on the bus ride into town {don´t judge}. You´ve no idea how accomplished we felt when we eventually found it,and in celebration bought french fries (Lindsay) and a twist ice cream cone (me).
Thus sated, we headed back to the bus station in time to catch the bus and finally begin our journey to Arenal. We arrived four hours later in the dark- no stunning view of the looming volcano for us yet. After being accosted by tour guides, we extracted ourselves and made our way to the hostel. We walked inside and were greeted by the sight of Dean {! told you so, Lindsay}, already hard at... work... hanging out with a large, rowdy group of people. Lindsay and I checked in, dropped our stuff on our bunk beds, and headed out to join the party.
Friday Night Meet & Greet
The people we saw Dean with turned out to be a fun bunch of volunteers based in San Ramon {of all places}- four Canadian guys (Bryan, Ryan, Ryan, Tiaan) and one American girl (Kelsey). Also amassed in our new group of friends was a British girl, Jo, and a Dutch guy, Floris. They all introduced themselves, and quickly invited Lindsay and I to sit down. The rest of the night is just one big, enjoyable blur. After talking and joking around for a while {and being invited to chill with them in Manuel Antonio the next weekend}, our group decided to hit the pool for a late night dip {during which chicken-fighting and the origin of our motto "Pop a tit" occurred...}. We then returned nice and soggy to the common area to meet with some more hostel guests. Everyone had stuff planned for early the next morning, though, so by 2:00am we decided to call it a night and go to bed.
On the Road to Cerro Chato (and Other Natural Wonders)
Saturday morning Lindsay, Dean, and I awoke relatively early {it´s actually ridiculously hard to sleep in in Costa Rica, thanks to the early morning sunrise and rooster crows}, and met up with Floris (from the night before) to plan our day´s adventure. We were positive that we wanted to check out the Arenal waterfall, as it was supposed to be gorgeous, and had also heard about this hike up a small, extinct volcano right next to Arenal that provided a great view of the active volcano- and a lake-filled crater existed at the top that you could swim in. The smaller volcano was known as Cerro Chato.
At Floris´s suggestion, we decided to rent bikes and ride to the entrance of the waterfall (only a 30 minute trip, or so we were told)- that idea was doomed from the beginning. We did manage to find four, seemingly functional bikes to rent in town, but our luck went downhill from there. As soon as we passed our hostel, Lindsay´s chain fell off, twice. And the second time Dean attempted to fix it {as the rest of us stood on the side of the road, sweating in the hot sun}, he cut his thumb and had to run into a nearby restaurant for some antiseptic to wash it out. After 20 minutes of fruitless tinkering, we called it quits and decided to go exchange her bike for one that actually worked. But, as our luck would have it, the rental place only had those four bikes. And the one up the hill had two bikes out front, but actually they were reserved. And the hotel over the bridge that rented bikes didn´t have any left either. Lindsay was extremely frustrated after our third unsuccessful visit, so I decided to give the guys my bike to return as well, and said we´d meet them {who were still so intent on biking} at the waterfall- the girls were taking a taxi.
Turns out our decision not to bike was the right one to make. Lindsay and I arrived at the waterfall a bit after 11:00am, a whole 1.5 hours before the boys did. As we climbed down the 493 steps to the falls, admired the beautiful 70 meter cascade of water, swam in the natural pool there, and sunbathed on the rocks nearby, Dean and Floris were {so they say} struggling up an incredibly steep, difficult hill in order to reach the entrance. I´m pretty sure they got lost and went the long, wrong way to the falls, as our cab ride was only 10 minutes and the roads we took were relatively flat. But anyway, the bike trip was apparently so exhausting that the guys could speak of nothing but how tired and sore they were the whole rest of the day. I kid you not- the. whole. day. Lindsay and I eventually just tuned them out....
After letting the guys rest and take in the exquisiteness that was the waterfall, Lindsay and I told them we were heading back up the 493 steps to the top in order to start the hike up Cerro Chato. They moaned and groaned and acted like big babies, but eventually convinced each other that, though they already done the equivalent of 15 workouts thanks to the bike ride, they could probably make it up Cerro Chato. I think they mostly just were afraid of being showed up by two girls {and possibly missing out on something really cool}.
We payed our entrance fee and met another American couple who were also starting the hike at the same time, so the six of us set out up the volcano around 1:00pm. All of us had heard that the hike was steep, grueling, and would take about two hours to make it each way; we initially scoffed at that- WE were young, fit, and determined. How hard could this hike actually be? Answer: very.
Okay, so the beginning of the climb was fine. We all joked about how, if this was considered hard, we'd be back in an hour. We kept up a good pace and admired the great views we were getting, as well as the lush trail we were following. Then, about 20 minutes in, it began to sprinkle. And everything went to hell.
The Hike from Hell
Right after it started sprinkling {which was actually welcomed at first, as we were all damp with sweat at that point anyway}, we hit the part of the hike that switched from a relatively flat, well-defined path, to steeper, grass- and mud-covered hills. By a bit into that portion of the hike, the rain had increased to a pretty heavy downpour, so rain was not only dripping off us in rivulets, but coming down the hill in small streams as well. Conversation dropped off, and we all focused on making it up the hill without slipping and falling on our asses. Eventually we had climbed high enough to where we'd reached the jungle near the summit of the mountain. Unfortunately, it was also the most challenging part of the hike.
Imagine doing a lunge up a stair. Then another. And another. Endlessly. Now, let's be creative and add in some other fun stuff. Torrential rain? Check. Waterfalls cascading down each step? Got that too. Slippery mud, trippable tree roots, extreme elevation? Yes x3. Now take how you'd imagine you'd be feeling after 45 minutes of that, multiply it by 50, and you'll be close to how I felt. It got to the point where I seriously contemplated turning around- Dean and Floris had after 15 minutes of being in the jungle portion- and all that kept me going was the promise of a lake-filled crater at the top {and the ability to brag about making it all the way up later. Assuming I actually survived the journey}.
Finally, relieving-ly, we reached a flat spot at the top of Cerro Chato from which you climbed down through the forest for only about five minutes to reach the crater lake. We came into the clearing at the beach on the lake, and gasped in amazement: the water was bright green. I'd never seen anything like it before. It was so beautiful I wish I could show you what it looked like, but of course my camera had run out of battery 10 minutes into the hike.... The four of us: Lindsay, the couple, and I {the champions who made it ;)}, stripped down to our undies and dove in. We had a group of local kids- the only other people there- take some pictures of us, and then decided we should head back before it got dark. Regretfully we began the climb back, but when we reached the flat spot at the very tip again, it was as though the clouds had been waiting for our arrival to clear. We had the most breathtaking view of the Arenal volcano- it was such a serendipitous moment, and it made the entire, hellish climb worth it {the lake was cool, but I was a bit underwhelmed}. I still have a hard time believing that happened.
The climb back down was exhilarating in its own way. Luckily it had stopped raining by then, but the steps {not to mention our clothes/shoes} were sopping wet and muddy, making our "climb" down more of a jump-from-step-to-step-and-hope-you-don't-end-up-slipping-all-the-way-down sort of game. {We took a clue from the local kids who literally ran down the mountain, every once in a while falling and laughing hysterically- the Costa Rican version of skiing, I suppose.} We made it back to where we´d started about four hours after we began. In one piece, but a lot more worse for the wear.
The couple was nice enough to give us a ride to our hostel in their rental car, and once we arrived we both headed straight to the showers {my first hot shower in over a month, and it was glorious}. Lindsay and I headed out to grab dinner in town with a few other girls from the hostel. We both ordered HUGE casados (the typical Costa Rican dish: rice, beans, fried plantains, meat, steamed veggies, and a green salad. This one was premium and included mashed potatoes with cheese, tortilla chips, a tuna salad, and a beet salad, as well}, and you better believed we devoured them all in record time. The other girls sort of exchanged horrified glances at our maniac eating until we explained that we'd had nothing but raw green beans since breakfast, had gone on this incredibly exhausting hike, and were therefore starving. They understood after that. That night we were supposed to go out dancing around 11:00pm with a group of guys we´d met at the waterfall... but we had both fallen asleep by 8:30pm, and didn't wake up until morning. Oops.
Sunday
After a nice, relaxing brunch with Floris, Jo, and an Australian named Lucy, Dean, Lindsay, and I packed up our stuff, said our goodbyes, and headed out to catch the bus back to Atenas. No major horror stories about transportation this time- though the bus situation didn't go exactly according to plan, the longest we had to wait for a connection was only an hour, and we made it back to Atenas by dinner time. The worst part of the trip home was having to stand on the bus for the 45 minute ride from where we got off on the side of the highway {a sketchy stop, but it saves us an hour of going into and then back out of the city of Alajuela} to Atenas.
All in all, a fun, successful weekend. Though my thighs could feel that hike for days after.
Ouch.
xoxo, Cleome
Sunday, November 11, 2012
5 Things I've Learned About Myself [While Traveling]
While I entered my gap year fully expecting to grow and mature thanks to the new experiences I'd be having, I guess I wasn't really conscious of the fact that traveling would make obvious certain aspects of my character. Here is just a random sample of new-to-me facts about... well, me.
In no particular order:
1) I (like the majority of the American adult population [not to mention Europeans, Costa Ricans, and the like]), have become one of those people who just can't function without that daily cuppa joe in the morning. Honestly, coffee is a MUST for me now. I'm not sure if it's a mental thing or what, but when I don't have "cafe con leche" in the morning, I get a slight headache and my brain feels a bit foggy. Maybe it's actually the altitude... but I've been relying on the placebo effect of believing strongly enough that coffee helps it to get by. Whatever works, right? I absolutely detested the taste of coffee before I came to Costa Rica, but now I can't get enough. Haha, watch this be the most significant, long-lasting effect of my time here.
2) I actually am a very safety-oriented person. Don't get me wrong, I like the adrenaline rush of doing crazy things as much as the next person- I just don't want there to be a significant possibility that I could get hurt and/or die in the process. For example: when mountain biking up and down rocky, uneven dirt roads in the rain, I've found I actually would prefer to be wearing a helmet/pads rather than not [Anri, aren´t you proud??]. Especially after falling once.... Or when cliff jumping, I'm fine doing the 10-foot jump- but I'll go ahead and skip the 35-foot one into a pool of unknown depth. [Lindsay, it's all yours.] So I guess in some ways that may make me a bit of a wimp, but at least I'll still be here when all you daredevils have gone and broken your necks.
3) I am a HUGE fan of dancing. There have been multiple occasions where my "entire demeanor changed in the blink of an eye"[according toLindsay my best big sister ever!!!] once a danceable song by American standards was played. And I've even gotten into Latin dance: salsa, meringue, barchata. After a certain point, I don't care how ridiculously white and uncoordinated I look- if a guy asks me, I'll do my best to keep up with his hip movements and spins. What the hell, it's fun.
4) Turns out, despite my often sarcastic and cynical nature, I actually posses a pretty positive, optimistic outlook on life. Regardless of the fact that out of the past 12 long bus trips I've been on [getting to and from weekend locations], only two have gone according to plan, I always manage to find mine and Lindsay's inevitable transportation disaster comical, and I don't get bent out of shape about it. Maybe it's just a response to Lindsay's tendency toward anxiety when shit like that happens, but I've been quite surprised at my ability to stay calm and positive about the fact that we will get through whatever the problem is. Since I have the ridiculed I-think-my-life-is-a-movie syndrome, I guess I just always feel like any bad situation I get in will eventually reach its happy ending. Maybe not the most realistic thing, but it hasn't burned me too badly so far....
5) I have a weird foreign supermarket fetish. Honestly, I could spend hours wandering up and down the aisles of any Costa Rican food store. Doesn't matter that they're all essentially the same- they still just have this strange allure for me. I love checking out all the different foods they have compared to the US, how the store is laid out, and which products are most valued. I mean, in the States, there are aisles carrying only breakfast cereals [a bit ridiculous when you think about it]- here, you'd be shocked to see how many different kinds of white rice and mayonnaise spreads exist. I just find it mesmerizing. It's weird, I know. But on the plus side, I think I just discovered my ticket to traveling cheaply through Europe- walking through supermarkets doesn't cost a thing.
Don't judge me, I bet you harbor strange fetishes as well. You just don´t know it yet.
xoxo, Cleome
In no particular order:
1) I (like the majority of the American adult population [not to mention Europeans, Costa Ricans, and the like]), have become one of those people who just can't function without that daily cuppa joe in the morning. Honestly, coffee is a MUST for me now. I'm not sure if it's a mental thing or what, but when I don't have "cafe con leche" in the morning, I get a slight headache and my brain feels a bit foggy. Maybe it's actually the altitude... but I've been relying on the placebo effect of believing strongly enough that coffee helps it to get by. Whatever works, right? I absolutely detested the taste of coffee before I came to Costa Rica, but now I can't get enough. Haha, watch this be the most significant, long-lasting effect of my time here.
2) I actually am a very safety-oriented person. Don't get me wrong, I like the adrenaline rush of doing crazy things as much as the next person- I just don't want there to be a significant possibility that I could get hurt and/or die in the process. For example: when mountain biking up and down rocky, uneven dirt roads in the rain, I've found I actually would prefer to be wearing a helmet/pads rather than not [Anri, aren´t you proud??]. Especially after falling once.... Or when cliff jumping, I'm fine doing the 10-foot jump- but I'll go ahead and skip the 35-foot one into a pool of unknown depth. [Lindsay, it's all yours.] So I guess in some ways that may make me a bit of a wimp, but at least I'll still be here when all you daredevils have gone and broken your necks.
3) I am a HUGE fan of dancing. There have been multiple occasions where my "entire demeanor changed in the blink of an eye"[according to
4) Turns out, despite my often sarcastic and cynical nature, I actually posses a pretty positive, optimistic outlook on life. Regardless of the fact that out of the past 12 long bus trips I've been on [getting to and from weekend locations], only two have gone according to plan, I always manage to find mine and Lindsay's inevitable transportation disaster comical, and I don't get bent out of shape about it. Maybe it's just a response to Lindsay's tendency toward anxiety when shit like that happens, but I've been quite surprised at my ability to stay calm and positive about the fact that we will get through whatever the problem is. Since I have the ridiculed I-think-my-life-is-a-movie syndrome, I guess I just always feel like any bad situation I get in will eventually reach its happy ending. Maybe not the most realistic thing, but it hasn't burned me too badly so far....
5) I have a weird foreign supermarket fetish. Honestly, I could spend hours wandering up and down the aisles of any Costa Rican food store. Doesn't matter that they're all essentially the same- they still just have this strange allure for me. I love checking out all the different foods they have compared to the US, how the store is laid out, and which products are most valued. I mean, in the States, there are aisles carrying only breakfast cereals [a bit ridiculous when you think about it]- here, you'd be shocked to see how many different kinds of white rice and mayonnaise spreads exist. I just find it mesmerizing. It's weird, I know. But on the plus side, I think I just discovered my ticket to traveling cheaply through Europe- walking through supermarkets doesn't cost a thing.
Don't judge me, I bet you harbor strange fetishes as well. You just don´t know it yet.
xoxo, Cleome
Monday, November 5, 2012
Weekend Trip #1: Puerto Viejo
Indisputably, my weekend adventures get a lot more crazy and exciting than anything that goes on in Atenas during the week. {Though last week an earthquake of magnitude 6.2 rippled through the town- didn´t do any real damage, but I certainly felt it up in my already-shaky second story room. I guess that could be considered exciting....} I definitely enjoy planning them and anticipating all the fun during the week. Time passes weirdly both fast and slow here, but before you know it, it´s Thursday and you´ve got to look up bus schedules and pack your bag for the weekend {which starts Friday}.
Generally, how we {Lindsay and I, with Dean being included the first couple weeks} decide where we´re going for the weekend is based purely on recommendations we´ve received from other travelers. Rarely do we go somewhere because we´ve researched it or read about it in a guide book. Though sometimes we do choose places based on activities we want to do/things we want to see, so I guess it really does depend.
But anyway, without further ado, I present the recap of my first weekend of traveling:*
Weekend 1- Puerto Viejo/The Carnaval that wasn´t...
This weekend was a special one, for multiple reasons. For me, it was my first chance getting to travel and explore Costa Rica without trying to reach one volunteer gig or another, my first time traveling with Lindsay and Dean {the first time they´d traveled together was the weekend before}, and my first weekend getting out of Atenas {which I was eager to do, as the one before had been rather miserable}. Also, it was a three-day weekend, thanks to the Exchange of Cultures Day on Monday (their Columbus Day, except he´s not very well liked around here). The goal was to make it to the city of Limon (a port city on the Caribbean side, just a bit south of where I volunteered with the turtles) for this grand event called Carnaval. It´s sort of funny- while Lindsay, Dean, and I had heard extensively about the existence of this festival from multiple sources, no one seemed to know exactly what went on during it. But one thing was certain: it was going to be crazy.
Limon itself was a city already known for being a bit insane. It was a dangerous place to walk around, especially at night. Lindsay had told us about her friend who was held up at gunpoint there, and even the locals cautioned us about the place, citing numerous thefts and murders. To be honest, we were a bit sketched out- I mean, when even Costa Ricans don´t feel safe in a city, you know as a foreigner you´d be stupid not to feel at least a bit of apprehension. Also, putting the safety precautions aside, almost everyone we talked to who´d already been there sort of made a face when we mentioned we were going, and told us in no uncertain terms that "Limon es feo," Limon is ugly.
While all the negativity about our trip in no way deterred us from seeing the city, or the Carnaval, we did concede to book a hostel in the town of Puerto Viejo (an hour away) instead of Limon itself. We figured it´d be cheaper and places to stay would be more available {plus Lindsay and I could breathe a little easier knowing we wouldn´t have to sleep in a city of murderers}. So our weekend plans were set, and on Thursday we called a hostel {recommended to us by Lindsay´s friend who´s lived in Costa Rica for over a year} to reserve three hammocks{!} for three nights. It was on.
Since Dean´s volunteer position had Fridays off, he left Thursday night for Puerto Viejo, leaving Lindsay and I to make our own way there after working at the Hogarcito on Friday. We researched bus schedules and figured it´d be safest to catch the 2:00pm bus to San Jose, where we´d transfer bus stations and then take the 4:00pm bus direct to Puerto Viejo. We anticipated we´d arrive around 7:30pm- a good time, as it would leave us a few hours in which to get dinner and chill before going out for the night. If only things had worked out that well....
Friday afternoon, Lindsay and I get back to Atenas a bit after 1:00pm, and we race home to eat lunch and finish packing. Since I needed to go to the bank to change some dollars into colones before our trip {imperative as banks close around 4:00pm in Costa Rica, and aren´t open weekends}, we decided we´d just meet at the bus station around 1:50pm to ensure we got a seat. I scarfed down lunch, grabbed my {newly purchased, daypack-sized} backpack, and headed to the bank with 15 minutes until I was supposed to meet Lindsay. As soon as I entered the bank, I felt a sinking in my stomach- this was going to take more time than I had, I could just feel it.
I was guided to a square formation of chairs by an armed guard, and sat down at the end of the "line." I was four rows back and three chairs in. The square itself had eight rows in total, with six chairs in each row. Watching the line move would´ve been quite funny, had I not been so anxious about the time: every time the person in the first chair got up to walk to an available banker, the second person would move one chair over, with everyone in the following chairs doing the same thing in a sort of slow-moving wave. While this snaking line of chair transfers was actually moving at a pretty good speed, I ended up leaving about six chair-moves in- there was just no way I was going to make the bus if I stayed. I figured I could find a bank in the two hour "layover" we had in San Jose, so I wasn´t too worried about not having any colones on me at that point. I just had to find one before the bus from San Jose, or I´d be screwed for the weekend {I stupidly didn´t bring any card for an ATM with me <-- travel mistake I won´t make again #1}.
We reached San Jose a bit after 3:00pm, and hailed a cab to take us to the Caribeños bus station, stopping for a quick detour by a bank. Only problem was the cabbie managed to find us the least-functional bank in the city. I´m not exaggerating- out of the five possible attendant windows, only one was being manned. On a Friday before a holiday weekend. What the hell. I left after standing in the line-that-didn´t-move for 15 minutes. I just hoped Lindsay would be fine covering me for the weekend, and I´d pay her back once we returned to Atenas.
We finally pulled up to the bus station, and it was packed. So many people, travelers and locals, obviously had big beach plans for the upcoming three-day weekend. We raced to the ticket booths, where Lindsay stood in line to get us tickets since I had spotted a bank in the terminal where I figured I´d make one last-ditch effort to convert my money. I ended up asking the two guys in front of me if I could budge them, since I was worried about running out of time and missing the bus. While the men complied, I needn´t have worried: the bus ended up leaving an hour late.
It was relieving to finally be on the bus to Puerto Viejo, but the bus ride itself was probably one of the craziest rides I´ve ever been on. Since we left around 5:00pm, by the time we reached the city limits it was already dark, so the majority of the trip was pitch black {the personal lights on Costa Rican buses never work}. Our driver was a maniac- ridiculously fast, especially on the twisty turns of the mountain paths, and had no regard for trying to avoid potholes. Lindsay and I were sitting in the second row from the back, meaning we got to feel the worst of all the bumps. And the people around us were hilariously terrible travel-mates: the people across from us decided to listen to bad Latin music on full blast on their headphone-less iPod, while the guys behind us decided the bus ride was the perfect time to smoke a joint. We spent the entire ride in and out of a weird, dazed sleep, the window wide open for some fresh air. By the time we reached Puerto Viejo, we were exhausted and just wanted to hit the hammocks of our hostel and sleep.
Little did we know that sleep is not an option at Rockin´J´s. I kid you not- search "top party hostel Costa Rica" and see what turns up. Yeah... we weren´t aware of that when we booked the place. For three nights. Lindsay and I showed up at 10:30pm {I almost walked directly past it because I assumed from the noise and people spilling outside that is was a club}, and stepped foot into a massive party. People {noisy, drunk, high, and covered in face paint} were everywhere: dancing at the bar connected to the hostel, playing pool, smoking joints, smoking hookahs, playing beer pong, sitting at the tables mixing drinks... you get the idea. I feel like I experienced my first frat party in Costa Rica- except this one was held on a Caribbean beach.
Dean spotted us and came over to show us to our hammocks {lucky us, we got the three closest to the bar, yayyyyy}, and then introduced us to some guys he´d met and had been hanging out with. While we were mostly very confused about what the hell was going on, and annoyed we couldn´t just go to sleep, Lindsay and I actually ended up having a pretty good time socializing. And when the music was finally turned off at 2:00am, we fell into our hammocks, ready to rest up in preparation for the Carnaval the next day.
All three of us woke up bright and early {like 6:00am- I tell you, this hostel just doesn´t allow you to sleep}, and after breakfast caught the 9:00am bus to Limon for the Carnaval. We were expecting to arrive and be accosted by music, crowds, parades, dancing, vendors, and just general craziness {ironically, almost exactly what we experienced the night before}, but were instead greeted by nothing of the sort. The city was essentially just San Jose on a smaller scale- a dirty, unexciting, completely commercialized handful of streets. The only evidence of any sort of celebration were a few closed tents set up on the sides of streets, and a parade that involved people dressed as clowns going around hitting bystanders with sticks. We wandered around for a few hours, were thoroughly disgusted by the lack of excitement**, and left. After an hour and a half standing-room-only {we were the standers} bus ride back, we grabbed a late lunch, and then hit up a nearby beach until it got dark. We congratulated ourselves on having chosen to stay in Puerto Viejo instead of Limon for the weekend. If it had been the other way around, I think I might have melted in a pool of disappointment.
Puerto Viejo is a really cool place. It´s where all the newly-freed slaves of the Spaniards congregated way back in 1800-something {don´t quote me on my historical accuracy- I´m on vacation after all}, meaning it developed it´s own Bahamian atmosphere, very separate from the rest of the country. There´s a strong reggae, laid-back feel, and lots of dreadlocks and marijuana are present. Everyone there, locals and travelers alike, were friendly, and I never felt paranoid about being robbed {like I had in Limon}. Yeah, there were many tourists- especially from the surfing/bro/stoner/frat guy population- but they only somewhat tainted the otherwise pristine scenery, haha. Given that explanation of Puerto Viejo, you´re probably not surprised that another night of craziness {that involved going to a local club and literally starting the party there} ensued Saturday night. Twas fun ;)
Sunday was our beach day. We rented bikes from the hostel, and after a few false starts {luckily Dean knew how to put chains back on uncooperative gears} embarked on an hour-long ride to the southern-most beach on the Caribbean side, named Manzanillo. The beach was gorgeous and untouristed, with amazing white sand and warm water. It was also cool, because we were only an hour away from the Panama border- we all regretted not going into Panama after we looked on a map and saw how close we´d been. But after biking back we were all exhausted {bumming it on the beach does that to you, haha}, and Lindsay and I took a nap, while Dean went off and did whatever. When we woke up and realized it was almost dinner time, Lindsay and I dressed up to go eat a classy meal out... and then promptly got soaked in a torrential rainstorm on our way back to Rockin´J´s. Oh well, cést la vie. We chilled at the hostel until about 10:00pm, when {the always health-conscious} Dean declared he was leaving to go find a hamburger. Lindsay and I went with him, and on our expedition we ran into a bar called The Lazy Mon {<-- really playing up the reggae vibe, huh?} that was having an open mic night. We ended up staying there through an awesome fire-dancing show, before we decide to call it a night and headed back to sleep.
Monday we were planning on stopping for a few hours in Cahuita national park before returning to Atenas, but ended up deciding in the morning that we just wanted to get back into town. We lucked out transportation-wise on the way back- we managed to hit every station right before the bus pulled out, meaning we didn´t have to wait around and waste time. We arrived in Atenas a bit after 1:00pm, tired but happy about our successful weekend away. I think it was an early night for all of us.
So that´s my long-winded story of my first weekend trip- and first real taste of being a backpacker- here in Costa Rica.
I´m exhausted just typing all that.
xoxo, Cleome
*I had originally titled this Weekends 1, 2, 3, since I´d naively assumed I could fit their recaps all into one large post. But when the clock read two hours after I´d started, and I was only just getting to trying to change my dollars into colones, I realized I had grossly underestimated how much I´d write. Or maybe just how much I´d remember. Anyway, all this is to say that I´m working, slowly but surely, on recapping my earlier weekends here. It just takes time. A lot of it.
**Oh, and apparently there actually is a cool Carnaval that happens in Limon. It´s just that all the excitement doesn´t start until dark, and that the real deal was actually the weekend after when we visited- we´d caught the lamer, more tame "Children´s Carnaval."
Generally, how we {Lindsay and I, with Dean being included the first couple weeks} decide where we´re going for the weekend is based purely on recommendations we´ve received from other travelers. Rarely do we go somewhere because we´ve researched it or read about it in a guide book. Though sometimes we do choose places based on activities we want to do/things we want to see, so I guess it really does depend.
But anyway, without further ado, I present the recap of my first weekend of traveling:*
Weekend 1- Puerto Viejo/The Carnaval that wasn´t...
This weekend was a special one, for multiple reasons. For me, it was my first chance getting to travel and explore Costa Rica without trying to reach one volunteer gig or another, my first time traveling with Lindsay and Dean {the first time they´d traveled together was the weekend before}, and my first weekend getting out of Atenas {which I was eager to do, as the one before had been rather miserable}. Also, it was a three-day weekend, thanks to the Exchange of Cultures Day on Monday (their Columbus Day, except he´s not very well liked around here). The goal was to make it to the city of Limon (a port city on the Caribbean side, just a bit south of where I volunteered with the turtles) for this grand event called Carnaval. It´s sort of funny- while Lindsay, Dean, and I had heard extensively about the existence of this festival from multiple sources, no one seemed to know exactly what went on during it. But one thing was certain: it was going to be crazy.
Limon itself was a city already known for being a bit insane. It was a dangerous place to walk around, especially at night. Lindsay had told us about her friend who was held up at gunpoint there, and even the locals cautioned us about the place, citing numerous thefts and murders. To be honest, we were a bit sketched out- I mean, when even Costa Ricans don´t feel safe in a city, you know as a foreigner you´d be stupid not to feel at least a bit of apprehension. Also, putting the safety precautions aside, almost everyone we talked to who´d already been there sort of made a face when we mentioned we were going, and told us in no uncertain terms that "Limon es feo," Limon is ugly.
While all the negativity about our trip in no way deterred us from seeing the city, or the Carnaval, we did concede to book a hostel in the town of Puerto Viejo (an hour away) instead of Limon itself. We figured it´d be cheaper and places to stay would be more available {plus Lindsay and I could breathe a little easier knowing we wouldn´t have to sleep in a city of murderers}. So our weekend plans were set, and on Thursday we called a hostel {recommended to us by Lindsay´s friend who´s lived in Costa Rica for over a year} to reserve three hammocks{!} for three nights. It was on.
Since Dean´s volunteer position had Fridays off, he left Thursday night for Puerto Viejo, leaving Lindsay and I to make our own way there after working at the Hogarcito on Friday. We researched bus schedules and figured it´d be safest to catch the 2:00pm bus to San Jose, where we´d transfer bus stations and then take the 4:00pm bus direct to Puerto Viejo. We anticipated we´d arrive around 7:30pm- a good time, as it would leave us a few hours in which to get dinner and chill before going out for the night. If only things had worked out that well....
Friday afternoon, Lindsay and I get back to Atenas a bit after 1:00pm, and we race home to eat lunch and finish packing. Since I needed to go to the bank to change some dollars into colones before our trip {imperative as banks close around 4:00pm in Costa Rica, and aren´t open weekends}, we decided we´d just meet at the bus station around 1:50pm to ensure we got a seat. I scarfed down lunch, grabbed my {newly purchased, daypack-sized} backpack, and headed to the bank with 15 minutes until I was supposed to meet Lindsay. As soon as I entered the bank, I felt a sinking in my stomach- this was going to take more time than I had, I could just feel it.
I was guided to a square formation of chairs by an armed guard, and sat down at the end of the "line." I was four rows back and three chairs in. The square itself had eight rows in total, with six chairs in each row. Watching the line move would´ve been quite funny, had I not been so anxious about the time: every time the person in the first chair got up to walk to an available banker, the second person would move one chair over, with everyone in the following chairs doing the same thing in a sort of slow-moving wave. While this snaking line of chair transfers was actually moving at a pretty good speed, I ended up leaving about six chair-moves in- there was just no way I was going to make the bus if I stayed. I figured I could find a bank in the two hour "layover" we had in San Jose, so I wasn´t too worried about not having any colones on me at that point. I just had to find one before the bus from San Jose, or I´d be screwed for the weekend {I stupidly didn´t bring any card for an ATM with me <-- travel mistake I won´t make again #1}.
We reached San Jose a bit after 3:00pm, and hailed a cab to take us to the Caribeños bus station, stopping for a quick detour by a bank. Only problem was the cabbie managed to find us the least-functional bank in the city. I´m not exaggerating- out of the five possible attendant windows, only one was being manned. On a Friday before a holiday weekend. What the hell. I left after standing in the line-that-didn´t-move for 15 minutes. I just hoped Lindsay would be fine covering me for the weekend, and I´d pay her back once we returned to Atenas.
We finally pulled up to the bus station, and it was packed. So many people, travelers and locals, obviously had big beach plans for the upcoming three-day weekend. We raced to the ticket booths, where Lindsay stood in line to get us tickets since I had spotted a bank in the terminal where I figured I´d make one last-ditch effort to convert my money. I ended up asking the two guys in front of me if I could budge them, since I was worried about running out of time and missing the bus. While the men complied, I needn´t have worried: the bus ended up leaving an hour late.
It was relieving to finally be on the bus to Puerto Viejo, but the bus ride itself was probably one of the craziest rides I´ve ever been on. Since we left around 5:00pm, by the time we reached the city limits it was already dark, so the majority of the trip was pitch black {the personal lights on Costa Rican buses never work}. Our driver was a maniac- ridiculously fast, especially on the twisty turns of the mountain paths, and had no regard for trying to avoid potholes. Lindsay and I were sitting in the second row from the back, meaning we got to feel the worst of all the bumps. And the people around us were hilariously terrible travel-mates: the people across from us decided to listen to bad Latin music on full blast on their headphone-less iPod, while the guys behind us decided the bus ride was the perfect time to smoke a joint. We spent the entire ride in and out of a weird, dazed sleep, the window wide open for some fresh air. By the time we reached Puerto Viejo, we were exhausted and just wanted to hit the hammocks of our hostel and sleep.
Little did we know that sleep is not an option at Rockin´J´s. I kid you not- search "top party hostel Costa Rica" and see what turns up. Yeah... we weren´t aware of that when we booked the place. For three nights. Lindsay and I showed up at 10:30pm {I almost walked directly past it because I assumed from the noise and people spilling outside that is was a club}, and stepped foot into a massive party. People {noisy, drunk, high, and covered in face paint} were everywhere: dancing at the bar connected to the hostel, playing pool, smoking joints, smoking hookahs, playing beer pong, sitting at the tables mixing drinks... you get the idea. I feel like I experienced my first frat party in Costa Rica- except this one was held on a Caribbean beach.
Dean spotted us and came over to show us to our hammocks {lucky us, we got the three closest to the bar, yayyyyy}, and then introduced us to some guys he´d met and had been hanging out with. While we were mostly very confused about what the hell was going on, and annoyed we couldn´t just go to sleep, Lindsay and I actually ended up having a pretty good time socializing. And when the music was finally turned off at 2:00am, we fell into our hammocks, ready to rest up in preparation for the Carnaval the next day.
All three of us woke up bright and early {like 6:00am- I tell you, this hostel just doesn´t allow you to sleep}, and after breakfast caught the 9:00am bus to Limon for the Carnaval. We were expecting to arrive and be accosted by music, crowds, parades, dancing, vendors, and just general craziness {ironically, almost exactly what we experienced the night before}, but were instead greeted by nothing of the sort. The city was essentially just San Jose on a smaller scale- a dirty, unexciting, completely commercialized handful of streets. The only evidence of any sort of celebration were a few closed tents set up on the sides of streets, and a parade that involved people dressed as clowns going around hitting bystanders with sticks. We wandered around for a few hours, were thoroughly disgusted by the lack of excitement**, and left. After an hour and a half standing-room-only {we were the standers} bus ride back, we grabbed a late lunch, and then hit up a nearby beach until it got dark. We congratulated ourselves on having chosen to stay in Puerto Viejo instead of Limon for the weekend. If it had been the other way around, I think I might have melted in a pool of disappointment.
Puerto Viejo is a really cool place. It´s where all the newly-freed slaves of the Spaniards congregated way back in 1800-something {don´t quote me on my historical accuracy- I´m on vacation after all}, meaning it developed it´s own Bahamian atmosphere, very separate from the rest of the country. There´s a strong reggae, laid-back feel, and lots of dreadlocks and marijuana are present. Everyone there, locals and travelers alike, were friendly, and I never felt paranoid about being robbed {like I had in Limon}. Yeah, there were many tourists- especially from the surfing/bro/stoner/frat guy population- but they only somewhat tainted the otherwise pristine scenery, haha. Given that explanation of Puerto Viejo, you´re probably not surprised that another night of craziness {that involved going to a local club and literally starting the party there} ensued Saturday night. Twas fun ;)
Sunday was our beach day. We rented bikes from the hostel, and after a few false starts {luckily Dean knew how to put chains back on uncooperative gears} embarked on an hour-long ride to the southern-most beach on the Caribbean side, named Manzanillo. The beach was gorgeous and untouristed, with amazing white sand and warm water. It was also cool, because we were only an hour away from the Panama border- we all regretted not going into Panama after we looked on a map and saw how close we´d been. But after biking back we were all exhausted {bumming it on the beach does that to you, haha}, and Lindsay and I took a nap, while Dean went off and did whatever. When we woke up and realized it was almost dinner time, Lindsay and I dressed up to go eat a classy meal out... and then promptly got soaked in a torrential rainstorm on our way back to Rockin´J´s. Oh well, cést la vie. We chilled at the hostel until about 10:00pm, when {the always health-conscious} Dean declared he was leaving to go find a hamburger. Lindsay and I went with him, and on our expedition we ran into a bar called The Lazy Mon {<-- really playing up the reggae vibe, huh?} that was having an open mic night. We ended up staying there through an awesome fire-dancing show, before we decide to call it a night and headed back to sleep.
Monday we were planning on stopping for a few hours in Cahuita national park before returning to Atenas, but ended up deciding in the morning that we just wanted to get back into town. We lucked out transportation-wise on the way back- we managed to hit every station right before the bus pulled out, meaning we didn´t have to wait around and waste time. We arrived in Atenas a bit after 1:00pm, tired but happy about our successful weekend away. I think it was an early night for all of us.
So that´s my long-winded story of my first weekend trip- and first real taste of being a backpacker- here in Costa Rica.
I´m exhausted just typing all that.
xoxo, Cleome
*I had originally titled this Weekends 1, 2, 3, since I´d naively assumed I could fit their recaps all into one large post. But when the clock read two hours after I´d started, and I was only just getting to trying to change my dollars into colones, I realized I had grossly underestimated how much I´d write. Or maybe just how much I´d remember. Anyway, all this is to say that I´m working, slowly but surely, on recapping my earlier weekends here. It just takes time. A lot of it.
**Oh, and apparently there actually is a cool Carnaval that happens in Limon. It´s just that all the excitement doesn´t start until dark, and that the real deal was actually the weekend after when we visited- we´d caught the lamer, more tame "Children´s Carnaval."
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