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
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
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."
Friday, October 19, 2012
Mail Me Maybe?
Hey, I just updated the Contact Exchange page, but just to make it entirely clear and obvious, here´s the address with which you can mail me things. Honestly, it doesn´t just have to be letters- whatever you want. I will appreciate it all.
Cleome Bernick-Roehr
Su Espacio
En frente de la bomba Coopeatenas
Atenas, Alajuela, Costa Rica 20501
This offer only stands for the limited amount of time in which I´m actually based in one place this entire traveling adventure. So don´t waste this month-and-a-half-long opportunity.
I´ll be waiting with bated breath.
xoxo, Cleome
Cleome Bernick-Roehr
Su Espacio
En frente de la bomba Coopeatenas
Atenas, Alajuela, Costa Rica 20501
This offer only stands for the limited amount of time in which I´m actually based in one place this entire traveling adventure. So don´t waste this month-and-a-half-long opportunity.
I´ll be waiting with bated breath.
xoxo, Cleome
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Atenas- Intro and General Life
I guess it´s about time I posted about the second part of my time {of service} in Costa Rica- I have been here for two weeks (since October 5th) now....
Atenas
So alrighty, I´m now stationed in the small, mountain community of Atenas, Alajuela, Costa Rica. The town is one hour west of the capital (San Jose), meaning it´s located nicely in the very center of the country. The town itself is pretty sleepy and uneventful- there´s exactly one {unpopular} sports bar, one church, one "mercado," and one bus station. Although if you were looking for shoe stores or dental clinics, Atenas is the place to be. But I didn´t realize exactly how small it was until I set out my first day here to explore the place, and ended up walking down every street in town in less than two hours. Definitely a change from the Twin Cities.
While the lack of activity and excitement at first made me hesitant about whether or not I was going to like it here, I´ve decided that the comfort of a small town is a much better place for a home base than some large, crazy city. Especially after a fun-filled weekend of traveling (<-- more on this later), having a safe, quiet town to return to {and recover in} is quite welcome. And it´s nice to be able to walk around at night (though, yes, usually with at least one other person), and not feel like I´m going to be molested by every guy I see. {However, while the guys´ manners here are better than on the beach, or in San Jose, walking around is still always accompanied by whistling/hissing/honking- men in Atenas just don´t feel the need to enter your personal space as much.}
Familia Nueva
So what exactly is my home base like? Well, I live with Arelis Rodriguez (my "mom" while I´m here) and her two boys, Alejandro (17) and Fernando (almost 16). They´re a middle-class family who have a house only five minutes from the center of town. I´ve also gotten acquainted with the grandparents, aunts, cousins, etc., since staying connected with {extended} family is a big thing here. And interestingly enough, no one in the family really speaks English. They´ve been having {primarily American} volunteers living with them for at least five years now, but from what it sounds like, there´s always been some communication issues, since most of the volunteers haven´t spoken much Spanish. They were happily surprised that I could hold at least basic conversations.* And my Spanish has definitely improved since being here. I just need to work on verb conjugations and some vocab, and I´m golden.
*Funny story: the first night at dinner, I was sitting at the table alone (having been served first). The younger brother grabbed his plate and sat down awkwardly next to me, and then looked up and asked in Spanish if anyone else was going to come sit at the table. When his mom asked why, he replied "So I won´t have to eat alone." I looked at him pointedly, and said in {halting} Spanish, "You are not alone. I´m here." It caught him so off-guard, and everyone started laughing. He mumbled a sorry to me while looking down at his plate, cheeks red. He confided to me later that he had no idea I could understand what they were saying.
From speaking with other volunteers about their families- and specifically their host moms- I´ve realized there are two general types: those where the host mom babies the volunteer, and those where the host mom doesn´t. I´m experiencing the latter; it´s a good thing. I´ve just come from 18 years of having a mom {I swear, nothing negative is implied here, Mom}, and it´s a nice change (plus what I´m sort of looking for in my year off) to be an essentially independent being. Arelis is nice and I like her a lot (and she´s a good mom to her boys), but besides cooking and changing my sheets, she lets me take care of my own shit, sola. Which is just how I want it. I mean, I´ll soon be traveling entirely alone in Europe, and it´d be a lot harder to visualize taking care of myself if I´d been under motherly care up until that point. {I think the reason she´s not a babier is because she´s pretty young (about to turn 33), and still has kids at home, so I in no way represent a chance to have a child living at home again- she´s currently got two.}
I have my own room upstairs to sleep in, but when I´m at home I generally spend time downstairs in the living room- reading, talking, using the computer, or watching dubbed American movies/over-the-top dramatic Spanish soaps on the TV {which is almost always on}. Besides the first few days, I haven´t spent too much time at the house. Generally I´m out volunteering, at the community center through which the volunteer program is run, taking dance/exercise classes, running, or hanging out with the two other volunteers currently living here.
Arrival
Right now, I´ve completely settled into a good routine here, and am really happy with how everything is going- but it wasn´t always like this. The first three days I was in Atenas, I was miserable. I felt homesick, awkward, unhappy, uncomfortable, bored, etc. It was just not a good point in my trip- but I´ve found that´s pretty common of {my} transition periods.
I think I was feeling so down because I´d just come from the turtle project, where I´d gotten familiar with the routine, I had met some great people, and I was having a lot of fun. Instead, I found myself in a small, boring town {with no beach} where I didn´t know anyone, was living in a home full of strangers who spoke only a foreign language, and {since my time at the orphanage didn´t start until Tuesday, and I arrived Friday afternoon} I had essentially nothing to do all day. I found myself doubting my decision to stay in one place for a whole two months- a lifetime, considering I´d only done a little over two weeks at the turtle place. Plus, I could finally make contact with my family (and friends) through email, facebook, and Skype, and I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to speak with my family, and hear their voices.
But luckily, literally the day after I Skyped with the fam for my first time ever {a horrendous ordeal... long story short, bad internet connection + confusion about whether or not to press the microphone button on the headset when speaking = major frustration/possible tears}, it all changed for the better. I had my orientation with the volunteer coordinator, was given a mini tour of the town, met both Lindsay and Dean {which was an amazing experience, considering just learning of their existence filled me with joy, aha}, had my first Spanish class, and went out that night to the sports bar where I ordered my first "legal" beer. A life-changing day, let me tell you. And from then on, I´ve been in an extremely positive state of mind. It´s amazing the difference one day can make {<-- a thought I´ll be storing for later use in Europe}.
{Week}Day in the Life {of an Orphanage Volunteer Living in Atenas, Costa Rica}
This is my general schedule Monday-Friday morning:
5:30am- wake up {usually naturally- it gets light/loud outside early}
6:00- run
7:00- shower, eat breakfast, fill up my water and grab a snack for later
7:45- meet Lindsay {more on her later} and walk to the bus station
8:00- get on the bus to Palmares {where the kids´ home is located}
9:20- arrive at the childrens´ place after a 20 min. walk from the bus stop
9:30-11:40- play with kids!
12:15pm- catch the bus back to Atenas, eat aforementioned snack
1:20- arrive home for lunch, write emails/blog posts, read
2:30- head to the community center Su Espacio with Lindsay for Spanish classes (the first week)/ independent-study (now)
4:30- Spanish studying ends, leave either for home or to the town center {if I need to buy something}
After 4:30- dinner happens sometime between 6 and 7, and some nights I´ll go out to dance/spinning classes, to the sports bar, or out to hang with Lindsay and/or Dean, Otherwise it´s more writing/reading/relaxing.
8:00-10:00pm- bedtime occurs within this window, on average around 9:00 or 9:30, but last night it was 7:30, and the night before it wasn´t until 11:00 {since I was watching the Costa Rica vs Guyana "futbol" game- veerrryyyy important; luckily they won}
Repeat
The weekends are when the schedule goes out the window, and craziness ensues. I´ll have to go over those in a different post, haha.
Other {Important} People
Not sure how surprising this is, but I may actually interact more with the two other volunteers stationed here right now than my host family.
Lindsay and Dean are the two other volunteers in Atenas right now, and with whom I´ve been spending lots of time with (especially {as Dean likes to point out, in a total show of FOMO, aka fear of missing out} Lindsay). They´re both American, in their early 20´s, and pretty cool. Lindsay is not only volunteering for almost the exact same period of time as me (she´ll be leaving only one week earlier), but she´s also working at the childrens´ home- we´re together a lot. Dean is teaching English in the community center, and actually only has about 1 1/2 weeks left here in Atenas. But Lindsay and I traveled with him last weekend, and I´m pretty sure we´ll be doing so again this coming one, so I´ve definitely gotten to know him. It´s fun having the three of us together- we´ve got a good dynamic going: Dean meets people, who then invite Lindsay and I to go do stuff, and we bring him along. It´s also become a thing to make fun of him, so Lindsay and I are a little worried about how we´re going to pass the time once he´s gone....
I´m so glad there are those two to hang out with here, because like I learned at the turtle project, it´s the people who really help make an experience.
So yeah, that´s my situation for the past few weeks now. I´ve officially been in Costa Rica/away from home for more than a month, and I honestly couldn´t tell you whether it feels like I´ve been away for shorter or longer. My perception of time has gotten so screwed up here. But however long it´s been, I´m not ready for it to end anytime soon.
Off to a spin class with Lindsay {Dean, feel the FOMO}.
xoxo, Cleome
Atenas
So alrighty, I´m now stationed in the small, mountain community of Atenas, Alajuela, Costa Rica. The town is one hour west of the capital (San Jose), meaning it´s located nicely in the very center of the country. The town itself is pretty sleepy and uneventful- there´s exactly one {unpopular} sports bar, one church, one "mercado," and one bus station. Although if you were looking for shoe stores or dental clinics, Atenas is the place to be. But I didn´t realize exactly how small it was until I set out my first day here to explore the place, and ended up walking down every street in town in less than two hours. Definitely a change from the Twin Cities.
While the lack of activity and excitement at first made me hesitant about whether or not I was going to like it here, I´ve decided that the comfort of a small town is a much better place for a home base than some large, crazy city. Especially after a fun-filled weekend of traveling (<-- more on this later), having a safe, quiet town to return to {and recover in} is quite welcome. And it´s nice to be able to walk around at night (though, yes, usually with at least one other person), and not feel like I´m going to be molested by every guy I see. {However, while the guys´ manners here are better than on the beach, or in San Jose, walking around is still always accompanied by whistling/hissing/honking- men in Atenas just don´t feel the need to enter your personal space as much.}
Familia Nueva
So what exactly is my home base like? Well, I live with Arelis Rodriguez (my "mom" while I´m here) and her two boys, Alejandro (17) and Fernando (almost 16). They´re a middle-class family who have a house only five minutes from the center of town. I´ve also gotten acquainted with the grandparents, aunts, cousins, etc., since staying connected with {extended} family is a big thing here. And interestingly enough, no one in the family really speaks English. They´ve been having {primarily American} volunteers living with them for at least five years now, but from what it sounds like, there´s always been some communication issues, since most of the volunteers haven´t spoken much Spanish. They were happily surprised that I could hold at least basic conversations.* And my Spanish has definitely improved since being here. I just need to work on verb conjugations and some vocab, and I´m golden.
*Funny story: the first night at dinner, I was sitting at the table alone (having been served first). The younger brother grabbed his plate and sat down awkwardly next to me, and then looked up and asked in Spanish if anyone else was going to come sit at the table. When his mom asked why, he replied "So I won´t have to eat alone." I looked at him pointedly, and said in {halting} Spanish, "You are not alone. I´m here." It caught him so off-guard, and everyone started laughing. He mumbled a sorry to me while looking down at his plate, cheeks red. He confided to me later that he had no idea I could understand what they were saying.
From speaking with other volunteers about their families- and specifically their host moms- I´ve realized there are two general types: those where the host mom babies the volunteer, and those where the host mom doesn´t. I´m experiencing the latter; it´s a good thing. I´ve just come from 18 years of having a mom {I swear, nothing negative is implied here, Mom}, and it´s a nice change (plus what I´m sort of looking for in my year off) to be an essentially independent being. Arelis is nice and I like her a lot (and she´s a good mom to her boys), but besides cooking and changing my sheets, she lets me take care of my own shit, sola. Which is just how I want it. I mean, I´ll soon be traveling entirely alone in Europe, and it´d be a lot harder to visualize taking care of myself if I´d been under motherly care up until that point. {I think the reason she´s not a babier is because she´s pretty young (about to turn 33), and still has kids at home, so I in no way represent a chance to have a child living at home again- she´s currently got two.}
I have my own room upstairs to sleep in, but when I´m at home I generally spend time downstairs in the living room- reading, talking, using the computer, or watching dubbed American movies/over-the-top dramatic Spanish soaps on the TV {which is almost always on}. Besides the first few days, I haven´t spent too much time at the house. Generally I´m out volunteering, at the community center through which the volunteer program is run, taking dance/exercise classes, running, or hanging out with the two other volunteers currently living here.
Arrival
Right now, I´ve completely settled into a good routine here, and am really happy with how everything is going- but it wasn´t always like this. The first three days I was in Atenas, I was miserable. I felt homesick, awkward, unhappy, uncomfortable, bored, etc. It was just not a good point in my trip- but I´ve found that´s pretty common of {my} transition periods.
I think I was feeling so down because I´d just come from the turtle project, where I´d gotten familiar with the routine, I had met some great people, and I was having a lot of fun. Instead, I found myself in a small, boring town {with no beach} where I didn´t know anyone, was living in a home full of strangers who spoke only a foreign language, and {since my time at the orphanage didn´t start until Tuesday, and I arrived Friday afternoon} I had essentially nothing to do all day. I found myself doubting my decision to stay in one place for a whole two months- a lifetime, considering I´d only done a little over two weeks at the turtle place. Plus, I could finally make contact with my family (and friends) through email, facebook, and Skype, and I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to speak with my family, and hear their voices.
But luckily, literally the day after I Skyped with the fam for my first time ever {a horrendous ordeal... long story short, bad internet connection + confusion about whether or not to press the microphone button on the headset when speaking = major frustration/possible tears}, it all changed for the better. I had my orientation with the volunteer coordinator, was given a mini tour of the town, met both Lindsay and Dean {which was an amazing experience, considering just learning of their existence filled me with joy, aha}, had my first Spanish class, and went out that night to the sports bar where I ordered my first "legal" beer. A life-changing day, let me tell you. And from then on, I´ve been in an extremely positive state of mind. It´s amazing the difference one day can make {<-- a thought I´ll be storing for later use in Europe}.
{Week}Day in the Life {of an Orphanage Volunteer Living in Atenas, Costa Rica}
This is my general schedule Monday-Friday morning:
5:30am- wake up {usually naturally- it gets light/loud outside early}
6:00- run
7:00- shower, eat breakfast, fill up my water and grab a snack for later
7:45- meet Lindsay {more on her later} and walk to the bus station
8:00- get on the bus to Palmares {where the kids´ home is located}
9:20- arrive at the childrens´ place after a 20 min. walk from the bus stop
9:30-11:40- play with kids!
12:15pm- catch the bus back to Atenas, eat aforementioned snack
1:20- arrive home for lunch, write emails/blog posts, read
2:30- head to the community center Su Espacio with Lindsay for Spanish classes (the first week)/ independent-study (now)
4:30- Spanish studying ends, leave either for home or to the town center {if I need to buy something}
After 4:30- dinner happens sometime between 6 and 7, and some nights I´ll go out to dance/spinning classes, to the sports bar, or out to hang with Lindsay and/or Dean, Otherwise it´s more writing/reading/relaxing.
8:00-10:00pm- bedtime occurs within this window, on average around 9:00 or 9:30, but last night it was 7:30, and the night before it wasn´t until 11:00 {since I was watching the Costa Rica vs Guyana "futbol" game- veerrryyyy important; luckily they won}
Repeat
The weekends are when the schedule goes out the window, and craziness ensues. I´ll have to go over those in a different post, haha.
Other {Important} People
Not sure how surprising this is, but I may actually interact more with the two other volunteers stationed here right now than my host family.
Lindsay and Dean are the two other volunteers in Atenas right now, and with whom I´ve been spending lots of time with (especially {as Dean likes to point out, in a total show of FOMO, aka fear of missing out} Lindsay). They´re both American, in their early 20´s, and pretty cool. Lindsay is not only volunteering for almost the exact same period of time as me (she´ll be leaving only one week earlier), but she´s also working at the childrens´ home- we´re together a lot. Dean is teaching English in the community center, and actually only has about 1 1/2 weeks left here in Atenas. But Lindsay and I traveled with him last weekend, and I´m pretty sure we´ll be doing so again this coming one, so I´ve definitely gotten to know him. It´s fun having the three of us together- we´ve got a good dynamic going: Dean meets people, who then invite Lindsay and I to go do stuff, and we bring him along. It´s also become a thing to make fun of him, so Lindsay and I are a little worried about how we´re going to pass the time once he´s gone....
I´m so glad there are those two to hang out with here, because like I learned at the turtle project, it´s the people who really help make an experience.
So yeah, that´s my situation for the past few weeks now. I´ve officially been in Costa Rica/away from home for more than a month, and I honestly couldn´t tell you whether it feels like I´ve been away for shorter or longer. My perception of time has gotten so screwed up here. But however long it´s been, I´m not ready for it to end anytime soon.
Off to a spin class with Lindsay {Dean, feel the FOMO}.
xoxo, Cleome
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Sea Turtle Conservation- Through My Eyes
Alright, here´s all that drama I promised. I hope you´re sitting down....
The Beginning
So when I arrived at the project {after a pretty cool tropical boat ride, in which we saw many birds, and some capuchin monkeys}, there were only three other volunteers (two of which arrived at the same time as me). However a group of four "research assistants"- essentially long-term volunteers who had slightly greater responsibilities/freedom than the normal volunteers {and paid slightly less to be there}- were living there as well. Also present were about four Costa Rican staff members, who came and went as they pleased, but somehow managed the project (? <-- the research assistants were sort of bitter about how much organization the management lacked).
I have to admit that that first week was tough for me. One of the volunteers left three days after I arrived, so only two others remained; the research assistants had been there together for over a month, so they had a sort of clique that I sometimes felt awkward trying to break into, and I was still getting used to the idea of being away from home for so long. There were definitely moments where I wished I´d never signed up, but luckily those were relatively brief. {It helped that the beach was beautiful, untouristed, and clean; the stars were plentiful and bright every night, and chilling in the hammocks was incredibly relaxing.}
The People Make All the Difference
Just at the point where I was getting extremely sick of the work, though, the second wave of volunteers showed up, and I made six great new friends. Honestly, it is partly the people you´re with that make the experience. I bonded with the two other volunteers that stayed my first week (a very cool Australian couple who were completing a South American journey before heading to Canada for winter work), but as they were almost 10 years older, and traveling together, I didn´t really have a person to hang out/bond with. But from the beginning of my second week, volunteers just kept appearing. They were all youngish {though I was definitely still the youngest}, very friendly, and had great stories. Plus there were finally enough people to actually do activities with. I was also being included more in the research assistant "group" becuase I already knew the ropes {it was a weird feeling to be considered "experienced" after just one week, but compared to the newbies I suppose I was}.
I made friends with people from all over the world: Australia, Germany, England, Sweden, France, Spain, the U.S., and, of course, Costa Rica. And most of them were more than happy to invite me to come drop in for a weekend when they learned I´d be traveling through Europe this next Spring {yes Nina, Ronja, Vicki, and Violetta, I am coming to Germany ;)}. What was pretty surprising to me was that 1) there weren´t more people from the USA {the girl who was there for my first three days was the only other American while I was there} and 2) English was the most commonly spoken language.
¿Habla Usted Español?
I went into the project expecting to have to speak Spanish from Day 1. I certainly was thrust into speaking it as soon as I stepped off the plane in San Jose- trying to find a taxi, get to the hostel, buy dinner, set up a ride to the WIDECAST office, buy a bus ticket, etc. And WOW did I forget how exhausting trying to speak another language is. When I met the Australian couple at the WIDECAST office Monday morning, it was so relieving to be able to communicate myself articulately without having to consciously think over what I was trying to say. I actually felt lighter, I was so happy to be able to speak in my native tongue. But when I arrived at the beach, all the research assistants spoke English, and as the days went on, I realized Spanish was certainly not the most common language heard at the project. The locals and permanent Costa Rican staff talked to each other in Spanish, but were relatively separate from all the English-speakers {at least for my first week there}. I had maybe two conversations in Spanish a day, and it certainly wasn´t necessary to do so. But even so, I believe that small exposure to Spanish did help in the transition to speaking another language. It was a great way to balance {re}learning/trying to speak another language, while being able to regress to English during downtime. And funnily enough, while I felt my Spanish was still very rough and basic, most of the Costa Ricans told me I spoke very well- which I suppose may be true in comparison to the majority of the volunteers that they normally get, who don´t speak a lick of the language.
*Funny story: when being picked up by the taxi driver to be taken to catch the boat out to the beach, the person from the project who was supposed to meet with us was late. It fell to me to communicate with the taxi driver {in Spanish}, and express to him that I and the other volunteers were going to look for something to eat before we left for the dock. When the project manager did arrive, they asked the taxi driver how he was able to communicate with us, if none of us really spoke Spanish. The driver replied that no, communication had been fine because luckily I was an "española," a girl from Spain. Flattering, but so unbelievable.
Now for what I generally did all day.
A Day in the Life {of a Turtle-Saving Volunteer}
8:30am- wake up and grab a plate from the kitchen to go eat at the Rancho (shelter with picnic tables/main gathering spot); chat with everyone
9:30- clean plate and check the daily schedule for when I´m on hatchery duty during the day, as well as which chore (cleaning the bathroom, kitchen, or Rancho, or raking) I´ve got; read in the hammock
10:30- go for a swim with others (after applying sunscreen of course, Mom); read on the beach
12:00-2:00pm- hatchery duty {lunch was brought out by another volunteer}
2:30- run on the beach
3:30- {cold} shower; hammock time for writing in journal/reading; check night schedule; change the rehab center turtle´s water
5:00- gather in Rancho with other volunteers to talk/play cards/kill time until dinner
6:00- dinner; talking time
7:30- get ready for bed, set alarm for {patrol} duty
8:00- sleep
11:15- wake up bleary-eyed; get ready for patrol
11:30- fill up water; meet patrol group in Rancho; head out
12-4:30am- night patrol
5:00- fall into bed; sleep
Day restarts
*Obviously that´s a really generalized schedule. Some days I wouldn´t have late-night work, and other days I´d be on hatchery from 6pm-12am- it just depended. Also, I did get one day off (since I stayed more than a week). Oh, and some days the volunteers would go on adventures, whether it was a walk to the river at one end of the beach, or a canoe ride with some of the local {questionable} men. We managed to amuse ourselves. And we even got to cook a few times! I personally helped in making pasta bake, hummus, and an amazing lime cake. I guess it was overall a pretty good time. In a pretty gorgeous location. With pretty cool people. Sigh.
The Good...
So I bet you´re wondering if I actually got to see any turtles, or hatchlings, or tracks at least. The answer is: YES, to all of those. Which maybe seems like a no-brainer considering I went to a beach specifically to see all of those things, but at the time I was there, seeing an actual large turtle- not to mention one that actually stayed on the beach to lay eggs- was pretty rare. There were only something like four turtles who came up and laid in my entire 2 1/2 weeks there.
But yeah, I was on hatchery duty twice when a nest hatched (both were green turtle babies- the prettiest hatchlings that appear on Pacuare Beach)- my first and last hatchery shifts ever, actually. The first time they hatched, I was really not expecting/wanting it to happen. I had been pinching myself to stay awake (I had the 10pm-2am shift), and I decided to check the nests one last time before calling it a night. As I entered the hatchery with my red light on, I just got this feeling like "oh shit, something happened." And sure enough, the first nest I shined my light on illuminated a cage literally overflowing with baby turtles. I was so freaked out and unsure of what to do, that I left the hatchery unguarded {a no-no} and ran to find someone, anyone, who would be able to help. Luckily, since I only had 10 minutes left in my shift, the next person on duty was getting ready to head out, so I grabbed them and we hurried back to deal with the nest. Unfortunately, the turtles had decided to dig up out of the nest on the side of the protective cage, meaning some surfaced outside the cage and were roaming free throughout the hatchery when we arrived. After rounding up the free turtles {a somewhat freaky experience, as you had to make sure you weren´t about to step on them while searching the pitch-black hatchery. Plus I was unsure of how much pressure I could apply to the turtles without killing/maiming them...}, we grabbed the rest of the turtles out of the enclosed cage and placed them all in a bucket. Then we did the measuring and weighing, as well as counting how many there were {something like 93 of them, yeah, TONS}. Finally, we walked a few feet from the entrance of the hatchery, made sure there wasn´t too much debris around, and took the turtles out of the bucket one by one. Because it was dark out, the turtles quickly disappeared from view, and they actually made it to the sea much faster than I would have ever expected. Within 10 minutes, they were all gone.
The second time was essentially the same as the first, except I actually knew what to do.
Now for the really dramatic retelling of the night patrol I saw my first (and last) grown, laying turtle: ´Twas a dark and stormy night... okay, not that dramatic, but in all honesty the weather was awful. One of the only times there was a sustained, heavy rain. And thanks to the storm clouds, it was pitch black on the beach {oh, it´s probably important to point out that when you´re on patrol you don´t actually turn your light on unless you think you´ve seen turtle tracks}. So I was on patrol with this guy named William, and we were about an hour in, having a stilted conversation {not only was he German, but he was also relatively quiet/antisocial}, when he flicked his light on and gestured for me to be quiet. He then went up to the edge of where the sand ended and the forest began, and rushed back to me, saying that we´d found a turtle! We´d come across it when it was in the process of digging it´s nest, so we had to wait until it was done digging to do anything {meaning we got to stand around in the rain getting cold, yay}, but finally it was time for action. I really did feel like some sort of weird ninja, thanks to my all-black outfit and combat-like boots. William held the egg bag under the tail, while I recorded where we´d found the turtle, etc. Once it was done laying (about 15 minutes), we measured its shell (essentially a meter by a meter), and William tagged its flippers. Though we wanted to rush back to the hatchery right then, we had to wait for the turtle to make its way safely back to the sea. It took for what felt like forever, but then I remembered she´d just given birth and I was cursing her for not moving very fast... then I felt bad. But from the time we saw the turtle initially to when it returned to the sea was roughly an hour and 30 minutes. We then raced back to the hatchery where a nest was dug, and the eggs were put inside. Then we went back to the cabins an hour earlier than we were supposed to, to shower and sleep- shhh, don´t tell.
And the Not-So-Good...
From the way I´ve described it above, it might sound like exciting things happened all the time, and every time you worked was fun and amazing. Not true. While overall I greatly enjoyed volunteering with the turtle, I did have four main complaints I can pinpoint about my personal experience with this project: the bugs, the schedule, lack of sleep, and the food. {Future volunteers, take note.}
-Bugs: WOW was I attacked by bugs. Not only mosquitoes (which I knew were going to be bad), but the sand flies as well, seemed intensely attracted to me. I feel like I was one of the worst off, in terms of the severity and sheer amount of my bug bites. They itched so bad- especially at night. And everyone had to comment on how bit up I was....
-Schedule: The way the project was set up (and its isolated location) meant that during the day you were pretty much left to your own devices- which was really nice once the next wave of volunteers showed up, because it left lots of time to talk and hang out. But then at night you were either on 4 or 6 hours of hatchery, or 4 (really 5) hours of night patrol. And that schedule just got really old about 1 1/2 weeks in. You couldn´t really get away and do anything, so it just felt like the same thing day in and day out (which it was). In that sense I was more than ready for a change in scenery.
-Lack of sleep: okay, so it´s not like I was extremely sleep deprived or anything. And you could certainly make up for a shitty night´s sleep by dozing in a hammock during the day. But I guess I got sick of more the lack of uninterrupted sleep. Because, while I´d end up getting between 7 and 9 hours each night, I´d have to go to bed at 7pm, wake up at 9:30pm to go to the hatchery for 4 hours, and then get back in bed around 2:30am, for example. It was just a really screwy schedule. Haha, and now I´m so used to it that I´m exhausted by 8pm, but then wake up at 6am feeling completely rested, since I was able to just sleep through the whole night. I really need to fix that....
-Food: so unfortunately Costa Rica is not know for its food. Coffee, yes {and that reputation is definitely deserved- I didn´t drink coffee until I got here, and now it´s a daily necessity}. And it wasn´t that the food at the project tasted bad or anything; the cook was decent. I (and everyone else who´d been there for more than three days) was simply sick of the lack of fresh fruits and vegetables, the insane amount of carbs, and the lack of variety. Honestly, we ate the same thing for breakfast every day- gallo pinto (rice and beans), a pancake or two, and a small side of scrambled eggs. Lunch was the only time rice didn´t show up on the plate (usually then it was either pasta or fried dough with corn in it <-- blech), and dinner was generally rice, some sort of meat, and maybe a canned vegetable. While the flavors were fine, they were also really bland, so I became best friends with the hot sauce there {it actually ran out the day I left, so perfect timing, right?}. Oh, and we only saw food at those three meals, so if you got hungry in between, sucked for you. Or you could beg a local to cut you down a coconut for a snack ;) But man am I loving my new found access to fruits and veggies.
The End (!)
Haha, so if you´ve actually made it through that extremely long post, congratulations! You now know the details of my (almost) three weeks as a turtle savior in a {not-so-concise} nutshell.
But I had to get it all out before I can start talking about my life now.
Gotta stay chronological.
xoxo, Cleome
The Beginning
So when I arrived at the project {after a pretty cool tropical boat ride, in which we saw many birds, and some capuchin monkeys}, there were only three other volunteers (two of which arrived at the same time as me). However a group of four "research assistants"- essentially long-term volunteers who had slightly greater responsibilities/freedom than the normal volunteers {and paid slightly less to be there}- were living there as well. Also present were about four Costa Rican staff members, who came and went as they pleased, but somehow managed the project (? <-- the research assistants were sort of bitter about how much organization the management lacked).
I have to admit that that first week was tough for me. One of the volunteers left three days after I arrived, so only two others remained; the research assistants had been there together for over a month, so they had a sort of clique that I sometimes felt awkward trying to break into, and I was still getting used to the idea of being away from home for so long. There were definitely moments where I wished I´d never signed up, but luckily those were relatively brief. {It helped that the beach was beautiful, untouristed, and clean; the stars were plentiful and bright every night, and chilling in the hammocks was incredibly relaxing.}
The People Make All the Difference
Just at the point where I was getting extremely sick of the work, though, the second wave of volunteers showed up, and I made six great new friends. Honestly, it is partly the people you´re with that make the experience. I bonded with the two other volunteers that stayed my first week (a very cool Australian couple who were completing a South American journey before heading to Canada for winter work), but as they were almost 10 years older, and traveling together, I didn´t really have a person to hang out/bond with. But from the beginning of my second week, volunteers just kept appearing. They were all youngish {though I was definitely still the youngest}, very friendly, and had great stories. Plus there were finally enough people to actually do activities with. I was also being included more in the research assistant "group" becuase I already knew the ropes {it was a weird feeling to be considered "experienced" after just one week, but compared to the newbies I suppose I was}.
I made friends with people from all over the world: Australia, Germany, England, Sweden, France, Spain, the U.S., and, of course, Costa Rica. And most of them were more than happy to invite me to come drop in for a weekend when they learned I´d be traveling through Europe this next Spring {yes Nina, Ronja, Vicki, and Violetta, I am coming to Germany ;)}. What was pretty surprising to me was that 1) there weren´t more people from the USA {the girl who was there for my first three days was the only other American while I was there} and 2) English was the most commonly spoken language.
¿Habla Usted Español?
I went into the project expecting to have to speak Spanish from Day 1. I certainly was thrust into speaking it as soon as I stepped off the plane in San Jose- trying to find a taxi, get to the hostel, buy dinner, set up a ride to the WIDECAST office, buy a bus ticket, etc. And WOW did I forget how exhausting trying to speak another language is. When I met the Australian couple at the WIDECAST office Monday morning, it was so relieving to be able to communicate myself articulately without having to consciously think over what I was trying to say. I actually felt lighter, I was so happy to be able to speak in my native tongue. But when I arrived at the beach, all the research assistants spoke English, and as the days went on, I realized Spanish was certainly not the most common language heard at the project. The locals and permanent Costa Rican staff talked to each other in Spanish, but were relatively separate from all the English-speakers {at least for my first week there}. I had maybe two conversations in Spanish a day, and it certainly wasn´t necessary to do so. But even so, I believe that small exposure to Spanish did help in the transition to speaking another language. It was a great way to balance {re}learning/trying to speak another language, while being able to regress to English during downtime. And funnily enough, while I felt my Spanish was still very rough and basic, most of the Costa Ricans told me I spoke very well- which I suppose may be true in comparison to the majority of the volunteers that they normally get, who don´t speak a lick of the language.
*Funny story: when being picked up by the taxi driver to be taken to catch the boat out to the beach, the person from the project who was supposed to meet with us was late. It fell to me to communicate with the taxi driver {in Spanish}, and express to him that I and the other volunteers were going to look for something to eat before we left for the dock. When the project manager did arrive, they asked the taxi driver how he was able to communicate with us, if none of us really spoke Spanish. The driver replied that no, communication had been fine because luckily I was an "española," a girl from Spain. Flattering, but so unbelievable.
Now for what I generally did all day.
A Day in the Life {of a Turtle-Saving Volunteer}
8:30am- wake up and grab a plate from the kitchen to go eat at the Rancho (shelter with picnic tables/main gathering spot); chat with everyone
9:30- clean plate and check the daily schedule for when I´m on hatchery duty during the day, as well as which chore (cleaning the bathroom, kitchen, or Rancho, or raking) I´ve got; read in the hammock
10:30- go for a swim with others (after applying sunscreen of course, Mom); read on the beach
12:00-2:00pm- hatchery duty {lunch was brought out by another volunteer}
2:30- run on the beach
3:30- {cold} shower; hammock time for writing in journal/reading; check night schedule; change the rehab center turtle´s water
5:00- gather in Rancho with other volunteers to talk/play cards/kill time until dinner
6:00- dinner; talking time
7:30- get ready for bed, set alarm for {patrol} duty
8:00- sleep
11:15- wake up bleary-eyed; get ready for patrol
11:30- fill up water; meet patrol group in Rancho; head out
12-4:30am- night patrol
5:00- fall into bed; sleep
Day restarts
*Obviously that´s a really generalized schedule. Some days I wouldn´t have late-night work, and other days I´d be on hatchery from 6pm-12am- it just depended. Also, I did get one day off (since I stayed more than a week). Oh, and some days the volunteers would go on adventures, whether it was a walk to the river at one end of the beach, or a canoe ride with some of the local {questionable} men. We managed to amuse ourselves. And we even got to cook a few times! I personally helped in making pasta bake, hummus, and an amazing lime cake. I guess it was overall a pretty good time. In a pretty gorgeous location. With pretty cool people. Sigh.
The Good...
So I bet you´re wondering if I actually got to see any turtles, or hatchlings, or tracks at least. The answer is: YES, to all of those. Which maybe seems like a no-brainer considering I went to a beach specifically to see all of those things, but at the time I was there, seeing an actual large turtle- not to mention one that actually stayed on the beach to lay eggs- was pretty rare. There were only something like four turtles who came up and laid in my entire 2 1/2 weeks there.
But yeah, I was on hatchery duty twice when a nest hatched (both were green turtle babies- the prettiest hatchlings that appear on Pacuare Beach)- my first and last hatchery shifts ever, actually. The first time they hatched, I was really not expecting/wanting it to happen. I had been pinching myself to stay awake (I had the 10pm-2am shift), and I decided to check the nests one last time before calling it a night. As I entered the hatchery with my red light on, I just got this feeling like "oh shit, something happened." And sure enough, the first nest I shined my light on illuminated a cage literally overflowing with baby turtles. I was so freaked out and unsure of what to do, that I left the hatchery unguarded {a no-no} and ran to find someone, anyone, who would be able to help. Luckily, since I only had 10 minutes left in my shift, the next person on duty was getting ready to head out, so I grabbed them and we hurried back to deal with the nest. Unfortunately, the turtles had decided to dig up out of the nest on the side of the protective cage, meaning some surfaced outside the cage and were roaming free throughout the hatchery when we arrived. After rounding up the free turtles {a somewhat freaky experience, as you had to make sure you weren´t about to step on them while searching the pitch-black hatchery. Plus I was unsure of how much pressure I could apply to the turtles without killing/maiming them...}, we grabbed the rest of the turtles out of the enclosed cage and placed them all in a bucket. Then we did the measuring and weighing, as well as counting how many there were {something like 93 of them, yeah, TONS}. Finally, we walked a few feet from the entrance of the hatchery, made sure there wasn´t too much debris around, and took the turtles out of the bucket one by one. Because it was dark out, the turtles quickly disappeared from view, and they actually made it to the sea much faster than I would have ever expected. Within 10 minutes, they were all gone.
The second time was essentially the same as the first, except I actually knew what to do.
Now for the really dramatic retelling of the night patrol I saw my first (and last) grown, laying turtle: ´Twas a dark and stormy night... okay, not that dramatic, but in all honesty the weather was awful. One of the only times there was a sustained, heavy rain. And thanks to the storm clouds, it was pitch black on the beach {oh, it´s probably important to point out that when you´re on patrol you don´t actually turn your light on unless you think you´ve seen turtle tracks}. So I was on patrol with this guy named William, and we were about an hour in, having a stilted conversation {not only was he German, but he was also relatively quiet/antisocial}, when he flicked his light on and gestured for me to be quiet. He then went up to the edge of where the sand ended and the forest began, and rushed back to me, saying that we´d found a turtle! We´d come across it when it was in the process of digging it´s nest, so we had to wait until it was done digging to do anything {meaning we got to stand around in the rain getting cold, yay}, but finally it was time for action. I really did feel like some sort of weird ninja, thanks to my all-black outfit and combat-like boots. William held the egg bag under the tail, while I recorded where we´d found the turtle, etc. Once it was done laying (about 15 minutes), we measured its shell (essentially a meter by a meter), and William tagged its flippers. Though we wanted to rush back to the hatchery right then, we had to wait for the turtle to make its way safely back to the sea. It took for what felt like forever, but then I remembered she´d just given birth and I was cursing her for not moving very fast... then I felt bad. But from the time we saw the turtle initially to when it returned to the sea was roughly an hour and 30 minutes. We then raced back to the hatchery where a nest was dug, and the eggs were put inside. Then we went back to the cabins an hour earlier than we were supposed to, to shower and sleep- shhh, don´t tell.
And the Not-So-Good...
From the way I´ve described it above, it might sound like exciting things happened all the time, and every time you worked was fun and amazing. Not true. While overall I greatly enjoyed volunteering with the turtle, I did have four main complaints I can pinpoint about my personal experience with this project: the bugs, the schedule, lack of sleep, and the food. {Future volunteers, take note.}
-Bugs: WOW was I attacked by bugs. Not only mosquitoes (which I knew were going to be bad), but the sand flies as well, seemed intensely attracted to me. I feel like I was one of the worst off, in terms of the severity and sheer amount of my bug bites. They itched so bad- especially at night. And everyone had to comment on how bit up I was....
-Schedule: The way the project was set up (and its isolated location) meant that during the day you were pretty much left to your own devices- which was really nice once the next wave of volunteers showed up, because it left lots of time to talk and hang out. But then at night you were either on 4 or 6 hours of hatchery, or 4 (really 5) hours of night patrol. And that schedule just got really old about 1 1/2 weeks in. You couldn´t really get away and do anything, so it just felt like the same thing day in and day out (which it was). In that sense I was more than ready for a change in scenery.
-Lack of sleep: okay, so it´s not like I was extremely sleep deprived or anything. And you could certainly make up for a shitty night´s sleep by dozing in a hammock during the day. But I guess I got sick of more the lack of uninterrupted sleep. Because, while I´d end up getting between 7 and 9 hours each night, I´d have to go to bed at 7pm, wake up at 9:30pm to go to the hatchery for 4 hours, and then get back in bed around 2:30am, for example. It was just a really screwy schedule. Haha, and now I´m so used to it that I´m exhausted by 8pm, but then wake up at 6am feeling completely rested, since I was able to just sleep through the whole night. I really need to fix that....
-Food: so unfortunately Costa Rica is not know for its food. Coffee, yes {and that reputation is definitely deserved- I didn´t drink coffee until I got here, and now it´s a daily necessity}. And it wasn´t that the food at the project tasted bad or anything; the cook was decent. I (and everyone else who´d been there for more than three days) was simply sick of the lack of fresh fruits and vegetables, the insane amount of carbs, and the lack of variety. Honestly, we ate the same thing for breakfast every day- gallo pinto (rice and beans), a pancake or two, and a small side of scrambled eggs. Lunch was the only time rice didn´t show up on the plate (usually then it was either pasta or fried dough with corn in it <-- blech), and dinner was generally rice, some sort of meat, and maybe a canned vegetable. While the flavors were fine, they were also really bland, so I became best friends with the hot sauce there {it actually ran out the day I left, so perfect timing, right?}. Oh, and we only saw food at those three meals, so if you got hungry in between, sucked for you. Or you could beg a local to cut you down a coconut for a snack ;) But man am I loving my new found access to fruits and veggies.
The End (!)
Haha, so if you´ve actually made it through that extremely long post, congratulations! You now know the details of my (almost) three weeks as a turtle savior in a {not-so-concise} nutshell.
But I had to get it all out before I can start talking about my life now.
Gotta stay chronological.
xoxo, Cleome
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Turtle Conservation Project- Basic Facts
Hey! I´m back in a place with internet access, yay! So yáll should best get started on those emails you´re planning on writing me... *cough cough*
*Pictures will be added slowly, since the internet connection is sort of slow here
So what the hell was I doing for the past {almost} three weeks? Well, before I can tell you about my personal (mis)adventures, let me fill you in on WIDECAST (the organization I worked with) and its mission, etc.
WIDECAST (Wider Caribbean Sea Turtle Conservation Network) was established within the past decade to combat the slow-but-entirely-real extinction of the majority of sea turtle species. {I´ll post facts soon about the sea turtles themselves. Honestly, before I went to volunteer, I was relatively unaware about how marine turtles lived- not to mention their plight.}
Of course the most dangerous threat to sea turtles is mankind. We´re pretty much the murderers of everything natural, it seems. But with this in mind, the WIDECAST project at Pacuare Beach has three main functions: night patrols, hatchery maintenance (and guarding), and a turtle rehabilitation center.
Turtle poaching/being in possession of its meat or eggs is illegal in all of Costa Rica (and pretty much the rest of the world), except for one beach in the south of the country. (That beach has "regulated" poaching, meaning during certain months a person can obtain a permit to take a certain amount of eggs out of the turtles´nests, because so many turtles come ashore to lay there, that many eggs would be lost anyway due to being dug up by other turtles.) And luckily, the most populated nesting beaches are part of Costa Rican national parks (such as the well-known Tortuguero in the northeast), so there are coast guards present to deter poachers from taking turtles/eggs. HOWEVER, the 7km stretch of coast where the conservation project I worked on was located happened to be the only unpatrolled beach area around, meaning poachers are very commonly seen roaming the beach at night. Therefore, WIDECAST, a few other organizations, and the locals (who aren´t poachers, at least) have taken the place of the coast guards in order to keep the turtles safe.
Okay, so now a more detailed description of the three aspects of this specific sea turtle conservation project:
Night Patrols
Every night during high season (roughly March to late October), 1-3 groups of no less than two people each (and each group always has at least one male, just as a precaution and to ward off any potential advances from the poachers {or drunk/high/just plain nasty local men}) leave at staggered intervals to complete between four or five hours of walking up and down the coast in search of turtles/tracks. The possible shifts were 8pm-12am, 12am-4am, and {rarely} 10pm-2am.
The point of the patrols is to
1) make sure that if a turtle does come up on the beach, it isn´t spirited away by a poacher
2) ensure that if a turtle lays eggs (which only happens about 1/3 of the time- it´s not uncommon for a turtle to come out of the water only to turn right around and go back in without laying- called a rayon) the turtle is tagged and measured, and the eggs are collected and brought to the hatchery ("el vivero"), and
3) the locations of where turtles came up on the beach are recorded.
{WIDECAST has a nonconfrontational policy with poachers, meaning that even if you see a turtle or its eggs being snatched, you´re not allowed to do anything about it <-- very frustrating}
Night patrols are grueling, but more on that later.
Hatchery
The hatchery exists as a place to store all of the gathered nests, and then once the turtles hatch, they are released so they can make their way back to the sea. The reason the nest just can´t be marked and left on its own when found is becuase the first week after eggs are layed is the most desirable time for poachers to get the eggs (since if too much time passes, the embryos have grown too much for the egg to be edible), and when a turtle has laid its eggs it´s quite obvious, thanks to the large, distinctive tracks they make to and from the sea. Thus, the eggs are "replanted" in a hole (nest) in the hatchery, and the date they arrived and are then expected to hatch (roughly 60 days later) are recorded.
The hatchery is guarded 24/7, and the hatchery attendant´s duty is to check the nests every 15-30 minutes (depending on how strictly they follow the rules of checking every 15...), and if one of the nests hatches, they then transfer the tortugitas to a bucket filled with sand, count how many there are, weigh and measure 15 of them, and then release them outside the hatchery- about 15 meters from the shore (it´s important that the turtles walk along the sand for enough of a distance, as it may affect their memory of which beach to return to). Attendants also make sure that all the babies actually made it to the waves- you´d be surprised at how many start out moving away from the water.
Most hatches occur at night (when you have to laboriously check each nest with your RED light), so during the day hatchery duty was pretty much just time to chill. Also, days shifts were only two hours long, compared to the four or six (!) hours at night. And since you weren´t supposed to read (or sleep, duh) at night, those hours could go pretty s l o w l y. My favorite longer hatchery shift was 6am-10am, becuase, though you were on your own (two people were only ever assigned simultaneously at night), I found reading/zoning in the sun to be a nice way to wake up. Plus it meant you got a decent sleep the night before.
*The hatchery is also where the exhumations (unburying and looking at the remaining material) of thenestts occured. These happened three days after a nest hatched, and sometimes the finds were quite interesting (read: disgusting). A few times, there´d be babies left in the nest {but these were always "special," weaker hatchlings, since they didn´t make it out with all of the normal babies}, and even if there weren´t any live ones, the remaining eggs were always counted and the state they were in was recorded. The majority of the remains were just egg shells, becuase the babies had hatched, but all the eggs that were whole had to opened and whatever was found inside was marked down: skin and bones, parts of turtles, just yolk, or embryos still in stages 1, 2 or 3 of development. Exhumations were gross, and the nests often smelled terrible. Once everything was recorded, all the remains went into a hole away from the hatchery- they were reburied to deter dogs from getting into them (and I guess developing a taste for turtles?).
Rehab Center
This was the smallest job at the project, and volunteers didn´t have much to do with it. There was only one turtle (a juvenile hawksbill) in it when I was there, and all that had to be done was feeding it, cleaning it, and changing its water daily. (<-- worst. chore. ever.) Becuase no vet had seen it yet, no one was sure if anything else needed to be done for it. It had ended up in the rehab center becuase it was confiscated by the police from some people who had been trying to keep it as a pet; at this point it probaly wouldn´t be able to survive in the wild. But like I said, I didn´t really have much to do with it besides cursing it for needing its water changed every day.... Haha, I´m not veiling my hatred of that task very well, am I?
There you go, the overall deets of the organization´s functions. Expect the personal side of the story soon.
Dun dun dun....
xoxo, Cleome
*Pictures will be added slowly, since the internet connection is sort of slow here
So what the hell was I doing for the past {almost} three weeks? Well, before I can tell you about my personal (mis)adventures, let me fill you in on WIDECAST (the organization I worked with) and its mission, etc.
WIDECAST (Wider Caribbean Sea Turtle Conservation Network) was established within the past decade to combat the slow-but-entirely-real extinction of the majority of sea turtle species. {I´ll post facts soon about the sea turtles themselves. Honestly, before I went to volunteer, I was relatively unaware about how marine turtles lived- not to mention their plight.}
Of course the most dangerous threat to sea turtles is mankind. We´re pretty much the murderers of everything natural, it seems. But with this in mind, the WIDECAST project at Pacuare Beach has three main functions: night patrols, hatchery maintenance (and guarding), and a turtle rehabilitation center.
Turtle poaching/being in possession of its meat or eggs is illegal in all of Costa Rica (and pretty much the rest of the world), except for one beach in the south of the country. (That beach has "regulated" poaching, meaning during certain months a person can obtain a permit to take a certain amount of eggs out of the turtles´nests, because so many turtles come ashore to lay there, that many eggs would be lost anyway due to being dug up by other turtles.) And luckily, the most populated nesting beaches are part of Costa Rican national parks (such as the well-known Tortuguero in the northeast), so there are coast guards present to deter poachers from taking turtles/eggs. HOWEVER, the 7km stretch of coast where the conservation project I worked on was located happened to be the only unpatrolled beach area around, meaning poachers are very commonly seen roaming the beach at night. Therefore, WIDECAST, a few other organizations, and the locals (who aren´t poachers, at least) have taken the place of the coast guards in order to keep the turtles safe.
Okay, so now a more detailed description of the three aspects of this specific sea turtle conservation project:
Night Patrols
Every night during high season (roughly March to late October), 1-3 groups of no less than two people each (and each group always has at least one male, just as a precaution and to ward off any potential advances from the poachers {or drunk/high/just plain nasty local men}) leave at staggered intervals to complete between four or five hours of walking up and down the coast in search of turtles/tracks. The possible shifts were 8pm-12am, 12am-4am, and {rarely} 10pm-2am.
The point of the patrols is to
1) make sure that if a turtle does come up on the beach, it isn´t spirited away by a poacher
2) ensure that if a turtle lays eggs (which only happens about 1/3 of the time- it´s not uncommon for a turtle to come out of the water only to turn right around and go back in without laying- called a rayon) the turtle is tagged and measured, and the eggs are collected and brought to the hatchery ("el vivero"), and
3) the locations of where turtles came up on the beach are recorded.
{WIDECAST has a nonconfrontational policy with poachers, meaning that even if you see a turtle or its eggs being snatched, you´re not allowed to do anything about it <-- very frustrating}
Night patrols are grueling, but more on that later.
Hatchery
The hatchery exists as a place to store all of the gathered nests, and then once the turtles hatch, they are released so they can make their way back to the sea. The reason the nest just can´t be marked and left on its own when found is becuase the first week after eggs are layed is the most desirable time for poachers to get the eggs (since if too much time passes, the embryos have grown too much for the egg to be edible), and when a turtle has laid its eggs it´s quite obvious, thanks to the large, distinctive tracks they make to and from the sea. Thus, the eggs are "replanted" in a hole (nest) in the hatchery, and the date they arrived and are then expected to hatch (roughly 60 days later) are recorded.
The hatchery is guarded 24/7, and the hatchery attendant´s duty is to check the nests every 15-30 minutes (depending on how strictly they follow the rules of checking every 15...), and if one of the nests hatches, they then transfer the tortugitas to a bucket filled with sand, count how many there are, weigh and measure 15 of them, and then release them outside the hatchery- about 15 meters from the shore (it´s important that the turtles walk along the sand for enough of a distance, as it may affect their memory of which beach to return to). Attendants also make sure that all the babies actually made it to the waves- you´d be surprised at how many start out moving away from the water.
Most hatches occur at night (when you have to laboriously check each nest with your RED light), so during the day hatchery duty was pretty much just time to chill. Also, days shifts were only two hours long, compared to the four or six (!) hours at night. And since you weren´t supposed to read (or sleep, duh) at night, those hours could go pretty s l o w l y. My favorite longer hatchery shift was 6am-10am, becuase, though you were on your own (two people were only ever assigned simultaneously at night), I found reading/zoning in the sun to be a nice way to wake up. Plus it meant you got a decent sleep the night before.
*The hatchery is also where the exhumations (unburying and looking at the remaining material) of thenestts occured. These happened three days after a nest hatched, and sometimes the finds were quite interesting (read: disgusting). A few times, there´d be babies left in the nest {but these were always "special," weaker hatchlings, since they didn´t make it out with all of the normal babies}, and even if there weren´t any live ones, the remaining eggs were always counted and the state they were in was recorded. The majority of the remains were just egg shells, becuase the babies had hatched, but all the eggs that were whole had to opened and whatever was found inside was marked down: skin and bones, parts of turtles, just yolk, or embryos still in stages 1, 2 or 3 of development. Exhumations were gross, and the nests often smelled terrible. Once everything was recorded, all the remains went into a hole away from the hatchery- they were reburied to deter dogs from getting into them (and I guess developing a taste for turtles?).
Rehab Center
This was the smallest job at the project, and volunteers didn´t have much to do with it. There was only one turtle (a juvenile hawksbill) in it when I was there, and all that had to be done was feeding it, cleaning it, and changing its water daily. (<-- worst. chore. ever.) Becuase no vet had seen it yet, no one was sure if anything else needed to be done for it. It had ended up in the rehab center becuase it was confiscated by the police from some people who had been trying to keep it as a pet; at this point it probaly wouldn´t be able to survive in the wild. But like I said, I didn´t really have much to do with it besides cursing it for needing its water changed every day.... Haha, I´m not veiling my hatred of that task very well, am I?
There you go, the overall deets of the organization´s functions. Expect the personal side of the story soon.
Dun dun dun....
xoxo, Cleome
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)