Versus

While my time in Israel has so far followed a similar theme to my time in Central America (volunteering for an extended period/traveling during service work breaks, etc.), there are some poignant differences between life here compared to anywhere and anything I've experienced before.

Israel vs USA

I'll try not to spew the obvious differences (like the fact that Israel is roughly the size of New Jersey or that the official languages don't include English here), but instead delve a bit deeper into dissimilarities.

•Israel is a land of extreme differences, in every way: socially, geographically, politically.  We all know that the US is famed for the multitude of cultures/ethnicities/traditions it combines, yet Israel has all that plus some.  You've got your wealthy citizens living in high rises on the coast, while not even 20 minutes away a Bedouin camp has been erected and the nomads are out taking their goat herds to pasture.  (The juxtaposition of a Bedouin shepherd tending the flock while being immersed in a texting conversation via cellphone gets me every time.)  Then there is the less comical distinction between Israel proper and the West Bank.  The separation (physical or not) of Jews and Arabs.

Land-wise, Israel's small chunk of the world contains mountains, deserts, forests, seas, the lowest point on Earth (the Dead Sea), and both extremely habited and uninhabited land.  An impressive amount of unique ecosystems.

And lastly, the political extremes found here top probably most places in the world.  I'm not even going to get into that.

•Israel is both more forward and more backward than the US.  For example, the amount of solar energy used here far surpasses that of America.  And (though I'm not sure that this proves any sort of higher level of modernity) Israel has the largest per capita use of cellphones in the entire world.  Yet they drive here almost like the only requirement to pass their test was being able to turn on the car. And separation of church and state (a basic foundation of the US) is essentially non-existent here.  Which leads to a bunch of issues, as one can imagine... or hear on the news.

•People are extremely open.  The good kind of openness that moves complete strangers to invite you into their houses for tea or coffee and to tell you about their lives.  And the kind of open that nearly reaches the point of hostility when people discuss their political and social views, and urge you to state your opinions on the matter.

•Religion is paramount.  While levels of religiousness differ, the majority of the population attends some sort of regular services, and on days of rest (be it Friday night-Saturday for Jews or Sunday for Christians) cities and public transport completely shut down. Quite inconvenient for traveling, I'll admit.  Along those same lines, there is no such thing as a civil union here- you must be married in a religious institution (or alternatively flee to Cyprus to elope). And lastly, everyone wants to know what YOU are.  Makes for an awkward situation when I confess to an Arab my mother is Jewish... I generally follow that up by quickly saying my father is Christian and that I personally am non-religious.  Which is hard for some to understand.  (Don't get me wrong- not everyone is biased for or against one religion/nationality.  But in smaller, predominantly Arab cities like Nazareth, it's best to play it safe and not admit Jewdom unless directly questioned.)

•Guns are on display.  I'm still not used to seeing the 18, 19, 20-year olds dressed in military garb casually having their M16's slung across their bodies.  And whenever I'm overtaken by a group of them, I feel very uncomfortable.  Though if I was raised in Israel I'm sure I wouldn't think twice about it.

Israel vs Central America

Certain aspects here are surprisingly reminiscent of my time in Costa Rica/Nicaragua. Like how the guys are pretty aggressive, or how the society is relatively chauvinistic (especially out of the big cities).  And the copious amounts of stray animals (though in Israel it's cats instead of dogs) or trash in the streets.  But being in Israel does provide some novelty.

•Food is waaaayyyyyy better here.  Just look at the local fast foods of choice- hummus, falafel, or shwarma as opposed to McDonald's.  And non-fast foods are inevitably more impressive than the ubiquitous rice and beans.  The Mediterranean-infused cuisine regularly includes cucumber and tomato salads, fresh goat cheese, tabbouleh, omelets, kebabs, and baked eggplant.  And while the selection of fruit in Central America was more impressive, the amount of fresh veggies at any time here is to die for if you're a salad junkie like me.

Don't even get me started on sweets here.  Let's just say it's incredible what they can do with sesame seeds- grind them, spin them with sugar, bake 'em into cookies, the list goes on and on.  Yum.

•The culture is much less risqué here.  In Costa Rica, I literally saw people's grandmothers wearing short shorts and lace-backed tank tops.  Maybe since it was so much warmer there, the culture just moved away from conservative dress out of necessity.  But in Israel (especially the more traditional places), skirts above the knees/without tights, cleavage, and bare shoulders are a no-no.  Here's to hoping I'll get to wear the tank tops and dresses I brought in Europe....

•I'd love to say public transportation here far exceeds that of Central America, but alas I would be lying.  I guess the nicer thing is that here they have shared taxis called sheruts as an alternative to the bus system: large vans you can take to places that cost as little as the buses and don't take as long.

Israel vs Nazareth

You may be wondering about this comparison, as Nazareth is a part of Israel.  Let me explain.

•Nazareth is unlike the majority of Israeli towns.  It is a predominantly Arab city, and parts of it appear (at least to my uncultured eyes) almost indistinguishable from the West Bank.  The city doesn't shut down for Shabbat (instead, nothing is open on Sunday), Muslim call-to-prayers are heard in time with the tolling of the church bells, and the most common language spoken is Arabic (so much for my "Hebrew for Dummies" book).  You're much more likely to see a woman in a burka than a man wearing a yarmulke here.  A bit different from the rest of Israel, I'd say....

Nazareth vs Atenas

The two towns I've had as home bases are quite different, leading to very different experiences and relationships with each.

•Nazareth is a much larger city, with acclaimed restaurants, bars (sort of), a huge shopping mall, and pretty much any knick-knack you could think of.  We were able to find a guitar and a capo in one of the jumbled shops.  That would've been left for a shopping trip to San Jose in Costa Rica.

Plus, as there's more to do in town, it leads to staying out/getting to bed later, and it's harder to force yourself to get out of town.  Sort of.

•While Nazareth is no tourist hot spot akin to Jerusalem, it certainly draws more foreigners than the sleepy town of Atenas did.  So not only do you meet more travelers in day-to-day activities (working in a hostel helps that, too...), but the majority of the locals speak English.

•Nazareth's layout is way more confusing than that of Atenas.  After one day of exploration (and yes, getting lost) in Atenas, I had the geography of the town down pat.  Here, not only are the Old City streets super twisty and confusing, but once I get a bit away from the Old City I'm completely in unknown territory.  I really only venture through the Old City, the restaurant district, the path to the top of Mount of Precipice, and the part of the Jesus Trail that doubles as my running route... anything outside of that sphere, and I could be on Mars. A Mars with atmosphere and civilization....

Hostel Work vs Orphanage

I've come to the conclusion that I much prefer the volunteer work I'm doing here in the hostel in Nazareth to helping out in the children's home in Palmares.

•As the local staff I'm interacting with are adults, not only am I making new friends I can talk with, but I'm also meeting people who I can go out with, or who can introduce me to more of the local community of Nazareth.  Kids are cute, but their social lives are pretty bland.

•Along that same vein, I'm meeting just more people in general, as one of the main jobs of working in a hostel is talking with the guests.  Some you just exchange pleasantries with and answer questions, while other you find yourself talking to for hours and going out with after shifts.  I love that!  (Originally I was apprehensive about working in a hostel, as I don't immediately label myself a social butterfly.  But either my self-perception is really off, or traveling/working at the Fauzi has stretched my social ease.  I've found it pleasingly fun and easy to get into conversations with total strangers.  I feel the sociable persona is half a type of act and half genuine until you get to know someone and it's all genuine.  A major plus of this increased comfort in initiating conversations with strangers is I think I've essentially become immune to feeling socially awkward.  It's become so commonplace it barely phases me anymore, haha.)  This work is certainly doing more for my Facebook friends list ;)

Major Differences in this Trip vs the First Four Months of my Gap Year

Just some general other differences I'm too lazy to try and categorize.

•I don't at all speak the national language(s) of Israel.  The Spanish I started out with might have been basic, but it did allow for communication beyond "hello" and "thank you" (the extent of my Arabic... but I'm working on it!).

•I'm supposed to provide all my own food (though we get free breakfast, fruit, cake, and leftovers from the Fauzi, so...) instead of being provided with three home-cooked meals a day.

•There's a much more extreme time difference between the States and Israel than the US and Costa Rica.  Like, eight hours vs one.  Which makes it more difficult to communicate with people back home.

•My schedule changes daily.  No set weekly routines of knowing exactly when I'll be working and when I'll be free.  I guess for all the inconvenience that gives, it also inspires me to be more active in taking day trips and researching locations to visit.

•I'm sharing a room with the other volunteers instead of doing a home-stay.  First extended dorm room experience?

•The hostel work (while in no way difficult) is stuff I've never done before, whereas I felt pretty confident I knew how to entertain children.

•This time abroad I'll be spending equal time volunteering and actively traveling. Instead of just tacking on the traveling at the end (besides weekend trips).

•Since Israel is a bit further from Minnesota, I won't get to see my family at all for these four months. Sadface.

•Going out, getting connections through the hostel and local staff, and being a bit more into exploring the town has led me to be much more immersed in the local community of Nazareth. Which is incredibly fun.

I've loved everything I've done so far, and every place I've traveled.  This "gap year" just keeps getting better and better.

Now I'm off to learn the "Cooking by the Book" remix by Lil Jon.  A farewell request from the lovely Mike Chong.  Parental advisory suggested.

xoxo, Cleome

The Big Intro to Israel Post

Hello there!  It's been a little while since I last posted, and I've finally gotten a good chunk of time to sit down and write, so I thought I'd take advantage of it. 

I left for Israel a week from today  (though technically I've only physically been in Israel for five and a half days, thanks to an amazingly long 19.5 hours of travel time between home and here...) and have experienced a lot of newness in these past seven days.  But let's start at the very beginning.  It's a very good place to start....


Flights and Firsts
So, like I said, it took me 19.5 hours (three different flights) from taking off in Minneapolis to touch down in Israel. I left MN late morning on my first flight and arrived in Newark, NY mid-afternoon.  After waiting a few hours in the airport, I boarded the airplane that would jet me away from the US, over the Pacific, and allow me to step foot for the first time ever on another continent. <- That flight was the longest one I've ever been on- seven hours.  I flew on SAS, a Scandinavian airline, and was quite impressed by their level of service.  Not only did they show recently released movies [I got to watch Argo, what what], but they actually served MEALS on the plane.  Free of charge.  And they came in the most adorable little portion-sized containers.  I was so awed I took a picture, haha.

Although that second flight was great in many ways, it wasn't my favorite simply because
1) It was a "red eye" flight, but I couldn't sleep.
2) There was a freaky amount of turbulence as we were exactly in the middle of our trip aka over the ocean.  I won't deny that images of a watery grave briefly flitted past my eyes before I shut them out and mentally chanted think positively over and over again.
3) We changed what felt like a million time zones in those seven hours, and so by the time we arrived in Copenhagen it was 7am in Denmark, while my body still thought it was 1am.  After zooming through the cute and sleepy Copenhagen airport [they have hardwood floors, open lounge areas, inviting colors, and a little mermaid statue- how much more adorable can it get?] to find the gate for my third and final flight, I shlumped over and blearily stared at passersby through half-closed lids.  Yeah, I felt pretty gross at that point compared to all the sharp-looking European travelers.  And
4) I was located in the back of this huge airplane, in the middle row of three seats, and I just had to be put with this older guy who (even with the empty seat between us) had stinky farts.  Not very conducive for trying to sleep....

My last flight was about four hours and landed me in Tel Aviv around 2:30pm Israel time on Sunday.  Luckily the passport control guys didn't give me too much grief and I was riding in a shared taxi to Jerusalem half an hour later.  I arrived at the Abraham Hostel in Jerusalem- recommended to me by the GoEco project- a bit before 5pm and immediately took a shower and tried to sleep.  Key word: tried.  I was physically exhausted, having at that point slept only about four hours of the past 36, but mentally I couldn't quiet down.  I think I fell into a restless sleep around 9pm that night, but certainly woke up the next morning still feeling tired.


Orientation in the Old City
Monday was a jam-packed day. 

It began with a two hour meeting in the hostel with GoEco (the volunteer agency) representatives.  They gave myself and two other soon-to-be-volunteers [we were all leaving for different projects, however] an explanation of our volunteering projects and some basic information about Israel. Then one of them, Yan, acted as our tour guide for the rest of the day.

First, we explored and had lunch in the major Jerusalem marketplace [he managed to get us millions of free samples of cultural dishes by explaining in Hebrew to the vendors that we were foreigners and had no idea what any of the dishes were] before heading out to Jaffa Gate to take part in a free tour of the Old City.  [The term Old City in any area refers to the location where buildings, monuments and historical places built hundreds of years ago remain intact and are still used/inhabited by people today.  However, the Old City in Jerusalem is one of the most well-known as it contains many incredibly important religious sites.]

I was extremely awed on our walk through the Old City.  We hit all four quarters (Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Armenian) and our guide was quite knowledgeable about the history of each quarter and their development.  It was amazing to think that we were walking through streets and archways that had been there and seen by people for hundreds, maybe thousands of years.  And to just actually be in this place I'd heard about for so long felt incredibly unreal.  I mean, it was hard to wrap my head around the fact that I was literally standing 100 feet away from the Western Wall.  Wow. 

Since the free tour was a general overview of the Old City but didn't actually take us into buildings, once it was over Yan guided our volunteer group back to a couple of impressive sites.  We watched the sun set while standing on the top of the Austrian Hospice, taking in the scenic view of the entire Old City; we walked through the [amazingly unpopulated] Church of the Holy Sepulchre once darkness had fallen, and then window-shopped in the new mall outside the Old City on our way to dinner.  After dinner (my first authentic Israeli hummus experience!) we explored a few more buildings that had nice views (including one incredibly swanky hotel that impressed me almost as much as the Old City had, haha) and then headed back to the hostel to sleep.

Tuesday was the day I needed to catch my bus to Nazareth to actually begin volunteering, but that wasn't until 4pm, so I had a bit more time to wander around Jerusalem.  I went out with Antonia, the girl volunteer I'd hung with the day before, and we saw the Western Wall up close (I did indeed put a piece of paper with a wish on it into an unused crack in the wall).  We also walked up to the Dome of the Rock (an extremely holy Islamic site) and marveled at the detail and gorgeousness of the mosque.  Finally the time to head to the bus station rolled around, and after a bit of messing around with a temperamental ticket machine, I was on my way. 


Finding Fauzi Azar
I sat next to a very... talkative... guy on the bus who also happened to be going to the Fauzi Azar Inn.  He came in handy, though, when asking for directions [we arrived at night and the Inn is tucked away in a part of the Old City that takes some maneuvering to get to] and in making me feel a bit more secure when hiking past groups of smoking guys in black leather jackets.  But finally we found it, and I had arrived to the place I'm going to be calling home for the next two months!

[I'll be posting specifically about the Fauzi and my duties in another entry very soon!]

I met the other three volunteers that I'll be working with for the next few weeks at least (since two are leaving in a few weeks and new people may be showing up):
Pat- extremely sociable Australian guy working here for his summer break.
Jess- another girl taking a gap year!  She's from London and will spending eight months (until August) in Israel doing a variety of activities.  Once she's done volunteering at the Fauzi she's heading to a kibbutz for five months.  You can bet I'm going to be visiting her.
Mike- Canadian, eh?  ...Sorry, he's taking some time off from studying software engineering to travel and has a bunch of short-term volunteer gigs lined up in various parts of Israel. 
(Oh, and there's also a long-term volunteer lady, Linda, who gives all the guided tours.  But she's pretty much a permanent fixture as she's been here for four years.)

Pat and Jess have both been here for roughly a month and only have a few weeks left, while Mike will be leaving only two weeks before I am.  I really like them all, and the vibe is great because there's enough of us that we won't get sick of each other too soon, but not too many that it's hard to get to know everyone.  Though I do hope that when Pat and Jess leave, other volunteers show up.  I like you Mike, but some new blood potential friends would also be nice.

The night I arrived was a first-ever movie night, so I dropped my backpack off at the volunteer apartment (about 20 feet up the street) and went back to watch Life of Pi.  After the movie I went out for a late-night snack with Pat, Mike, two German guests, and a local named Fadi.  The food was good, but I was pretty much falling asleep at the table, so it was relieving to just head back to the apartment and go to bed finally at 2am.


Navigating Nazareth   
Wednesday began with free breakfast at the Fauzi and then a guided tour of the Old City.  It was a great, alternative tour that ignored the holy places (since you can do that on your own) and instead focused on getting to know the locals and the back roads of Nazareth.  It was a great introduction to this city I'm going to be based in for the next while.  I then grabbed lunch with Mike, hung out and explored the city some more with Jess, and had the most touching hospitality experience I've felt in a while. 

A local Christian Arabic family that Mike and Pat had met earlier had invited them to dinner, and since I was free, both I and a Fauzi guest Jackie were invited along.  However, when we got to the family's house after running through the winding alleyways in the pouring rain, we discovered that the electricity in their area was completely out.  No lights, no heat, no nothing.  Certainly no cooking, we surmised [<- like my word choice, Pat&Mike?].  But the family surprised us, and after an hour of sitting in the candle-lit living room exchanging broken English and Arabic talking with the daughters Ruth and Jessica, we were informed dinner was ready and we were ushered into the kitchen. 

An amazing spread of traditional Arabic food lay on the table before us.  The four of us sat down with Ruth and the dad, Adell, and had a wonderful meal highlighted by lamb, rice with a special yogurt sauce, and Italian champagne.  The food was very tasty (and they managed to magically heat it somehow- candles?), but there were about a million dishes and each was heaped onto our plates in such great quantities that I couldn't even finish half of it.  After dinner the electricity came back on (of course) and we moved back to the living room to join the rest of the family (mom, brother, Jessica and fiance) in smoking hookah (first time for me!) and listening to music.  And when we finally excused ourselves after lavishing thanks upon the family, the brother insisted I take the sweatshirt of his I'd been wearing for warmth as a parting gift.  To be honest, I'm a little wary that somehow I've bound myself to a romantic obligation... but I'll admit its oversizedness had come in handy as a makeshift tent-like changing room, as there is no real privacy in our tiny volunteer apartment.  Alla in all, I was incredibly touched by their generosity in feeding four guests (two of which had been perfect strangers before that meal) in the middle of a power outage.  And we have plans to go back soon and learn how to make authentic felafel, so yay!  Free food and good company is always something to look forward to.


Experiencing Everyday Events enjoying the alliteration of the section titles?
Thursday I was shadowing Jess on the afternoon shift, but beforehand we walked up a scenic hill named Mount Precipice and on the way to the Inn stopped by a small cafe for Qatayaf (a traditional Ramadan sweet- essentially a small pancake filled with either soft cheese or walnuts, fried, and then drizzled in syrup.  As delicious as they sound).  We were kept at the Inn for a while after our shift had technically ended, so just came back to the apartment and slept after.

Friday I attempted to find the Jesus Trail (a hiking trail that starts at the Fauzi- more on that in the next blog post!) and failed dismally- got a good run in anyway, though.  Then half slept half read in the sun, and was on evening shift with Mike.  Bed.

Today I hiked the Jesus Trail with Pat and Mike and five Fauzi guests.  Luckily we didn't get lost, as Pat is an expert Jesus Trail navigator.  The first leg takes roughly four hours to walk, and really is pretty gorgeous once you get past the highway.  We hitched back to Nazareth (a somewhat depressing only 15 minutes away by car) and grabbed a late lunch before coming back home to chill.

I can't believe I just used the word "home" so naturally.  I must really feel pretty comfortable here.

Tonight we're heading out to a local restaurant to see some sort of music.  Maybe dancing will be involved?  Whatever it is, should be interesting. 

Off to find Mike and ask him about that stir fry he's supposedly making....

xoxo, Cleome

Things I'm Missing About Latin America (?)

-The unpredictable bus schedule that consistently demanded improvization in order to figure out what the hell I needed to do to get where I was supposed to go.
-Bus trips that inevitably took at least three hours longer than anticipated.
-Not possessing a key to the lock or the front gate, and therefore being effectively locked in or out of my own home.
-Paying for public bathroom use.
-Rice and beans 3x each day.
-Needing to throw the toilet paper in the waste basket instead of the toilet.
-Roosters and dogs being my 5:00am alarm clock.
-"Cold" and "extremely cold" showers being the only temperature options.
-The intense whiff of cologne that accompanied the passing of every single male.
-The lack of sunset/sunrise [yay for being almost directly on the equator].
-Inevitably spending anywhere from 16-20 hours of any weekend trip on a bus/waiting for one.
-Ants everywhere.  Even somehow in my contact solution container....
-My nighttime gecko friends that lived in the walls of my room and scurried around at night, making unexpected noises.
-Meeting cool travelers.
-Never knowing what was going to happen.
-Making new friends every day.
-Going out dancing.
-Hearing/speaking a language other than English.
-Experiencing another culture.
-Rarely being bored.
-Warmth.


I want to be out again.

xoxo, Cleome

Nicaragua

So I went to Nicaragua for 10 days... alone....  And it was awesome.

I'd been thinking about what to do after my volunteer program ended the last week of November, and after much debating decided going to Nicaragua would be
1) fun
2) a chance to see a new country, and
3) not completely terrifying as I'd met a girl who was working in Granada, and so at least had one person I knew who I could go up and hang with for a bit.

While I'd been traveling nearly every weekend before my Nicaragua trip, the thought of backpacking solo still scared me up until the point that I crossed the border between countries.  There's just something a little more ominous sounding about "backpacking in a different country completely alone for the first time" than "traveling for the weekend with my bestie Lindsay."  At least for me there was.

But I shouldn't have worried.  I survived for 10 days and made it back to Costa Rica in time to meet my family at the airport- and managed to have fun while doing so.

Nica Adventure, Cliff Notes Version

Saturday, December 1
-Left at 5:45am for San Jose.  Was informed the direct buses to Granada weren't available until Monday.  Decided to bus-hop instead.  Met American named Sherry at the border who was also going to Granada.  Had a tiff with officer in border control window- he "forgot" to stamp my passport.  Was denied entrance to country by immigration official and had to return to office for another stamp.  Finally boarded bus with Sherry to Granada.  Arrived and split off from Sherry to go to hostel where my friend Nonny was working.  Set stuff down.  Went out with Nonny and friends for dinner/clubbing.  Slept at Nonny's friend's house (without Nonny- looonnggg story...).  Great first night in Nicaragua.
Sunday, December 2
-Recovered.  Explored Granada a bit.  Ate typical Nicaraguan "frito."  Slept early.
Monday, December 3
-Accompanied Nonny to her volunteering project.  Played with kids.  Sang the Beatles.  Went out for drinks.  Packed.
Tuesday, December 4
-Said bye to Nonny and left Granada.  Ventured to Isla Ometepe [large island home to two enormous volcanos] by chicken bus and ferry.  Felt very alone.  Set up volcano hike with guide and a French-Canadian guy named Julian.  Tried to sleep in a hammock while listening to a man in the Russian Mafia talk about drugs.  Restless night.
Wednesday, December 5
-Woke up at 4am for 5am tour.  Ate a pb&banana sammich.  Completed an 8-hour volcano hike [5,250 feet up, active volcano, extremely windy].  Felt accomplished and exhausted.  Showered and slept.
Thursday, December 6
-Left island for the beaches of San Juan del Sur with my bodyguard, a 29-year old Brit named Romy.  Super cool guy.  Arrived at crazy hostel in every sense: renovated mansion= crazy luxurious, up on a hill= crazy gorgeous views, party hostel reputation= mentally crazy people.  Yikes.
Friday, December 7
-Beach day with Romy!  First hitchhiking experience and I was immediately obsessed.  Gorgeous water, beautiful day, amazing beach.  Located delicious, cheap tacos.  Went to major gringo beach party.
Saturday, December 8
-Switched from hostel to dirty, sketch hotel.  Switched from hotel to other hostel in town.  Breathed a sigh of relief.  Met new friends (Max, Simone, Astrid, drunk naked Australian dude, etc.) and walked to the Jesus statue on the hill for sunset.  Most delicious shot EVER: rum in a passion fruit half with sugar on the side [thanks Romy!].  Party hopped, night swam in ocean, watched Beerfest [<- pretty funny], didn't sleep much.  Fun night.
Sunday, December 9
-Early morning run, another beach day with Romy and Max.  More hitchhiking.  Sunday BBQ at hostel.  Packed and early night.
Monday, December 10
-Left for the border on chicken buses with Romy.  Border crossing and parting from Romy.  Sad.  Sat in a bus aisle for four hours to San Jose.  Made it back to Atenas after dinner.

A great trip.


Nica vs Costa
A surprising amount of animosity exists between Costa Ricans and Nicaraguans- mostly coming from the Ticos.  I think this mainly has to do with how many Nicas try to enter Costa Rica illegally, but any time something bad happens in Costa Rica it's blamed on the Nicas residing with the country, so maybe their negativity is justified....   Yet despite all the teasing I received from my Tico friends about wanting to visit Nicaragua, I have to say I was quite impressed by the country and in many ways it gives Costa Rica a run for its money.

Major Differences I Observed:

• Accent- Nicaraguans speak Spanish slightly differently, leaving me saying "que" a lot more than in Costa Rica.  I just wasn't used to it at first.
• Buses- Nicaraguan buses suck, frankly, compared to those of Costa Rica.  They're converted school buses instead of greyhounds, which pretty much makes all the difference.  Nica "chicken buses" have seats that are smaller, less comfortable, and much more cramped [one of the better times to be short: leg room!].  Also, there either tend to be less seats on Nica buses or just tons more people- every bus I rode was invariably packed to the brim with people.  So much so that if you sat next to the aisle, you couldn't escape having one of the standing persons' asses in your face.  'Twas lovely.  Also, Nica buses picked up food vendors literally every five feet, meaning there was always someone attempting to entice you into buying something.  That happens on Tico buses as well, but only at designated rest stops.  [Okay, to be fair some of these differences make Nica buses more fun and entertaining, but if you're existing on three hours of sleep and just trying to get home, they make the ride seem a lot longer....]
• Animals- farm animals roamed a lot more freely in Nicaragua than I've really ever seen in Costa Rica.  Buses would have to weave between herds of cows, horses were ties to almost every fence post, and spotting a pig rooting in the bushes by the side of the road was not uncommon.  I liked that.
• Cost- without a doubt, Nicaragua is so much easier on the wallet if you're trying to travel on a budget.  Hostels, food, drinks, transport- all was MUCH cheaper than in Costa Rica.  Bananas were literally $.04 <- you can bet I ate a lot of those.  And there were some $.25 tacos in San Juan del Sur that were to die for.  Yummmmm.
• Tourists- compared to the most visited areas of Costa Rica, the touristy parts of Nicaragua are still pretty devoid of foreigners.  Of course it's not like I was the only gringo in the places I went, but the locals were much more prominent, as was their culture.  Costa Rica's popularity and relative prosperity has definitely westernized the Ticos' way of life.
• Places to Go- while there are certainly some amazing places to hit in Nicaragua, there appear to be less locations than in Costa Rica.  I was only in Nicaragua for 10 days and saw only three different areas of the country, but I pretty much hit all the "worth seeing" places besides one or two.  In Costa Rica there are many more spots to go visit that offer significantly different environments, wildlife, and experiences from each other.  I traveled to seven different location in Costa Rica over two months and still have a sizable list of areas I'd love to go check out.

Overall, both countries are amazing, of course.  But for a shorter trip or one done on a more limited budget or one in which you're trying to get a taste of a significantly different culture from the US, then I'd recommend Nicaragua over Costa Rica.  Costa Rica has some of the most gorgeous natural landscapes in the hemisphere, but the country is more expensive and definitely more Americanized.  I'm certainly not upset about having been based in Costa Rica- I'm just saying that were my traveling situation different (i.e. not volunteering and solely backpacking), I'd probably have spent more time in Nicaragua than Costa Rica.  But since I had the luxury of being based in Costa Rica and getting to explore the beautiful country, I'm extremely grateful.

I can't wait to get on the road again.

xoxo, Cleome

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 tour the 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

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

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, with the sunburn to prove it  just kidding, Mom ;)

xoxo, Cleome