Well I've been informed I need to blog more...
I suppose I can write about my weekend trip to Tortuguero last week. I don't feel particularly inspired to write about it because unfortunately it was a little disappointing. But here it goes…
****Detour: Something so ironic/crazy just happened. I can’t even believe it. I started to write this entry (it’s always a little helter-skelter at first… writing a little, searching for the right feeling music, writing some more, looking up stuff on google, etc.) and after I had already copied and pasted the following quote onto this page (cause it’s one of my favorites), I noticed that the “google” picture had changed (it’s after midnight now). So I clicked on it to see what it was for. And wait for it… Holy smokes… this is weird… Today is Robert Louis Stevenson’s birthday. Weird. And awesome.
So this one’s for you RLS… you and your big fat adventurous mustache.
For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move. - Robert Louis Stevenson
trav·el
–verb (used without object)
1. to go from one place to another, as by car, train, plane, or ship; take a trip; journey: to travel for pleasure.
2. to move or go from one place or point to another.
3. to proceed or advance in any way.
I love traveling… moving. I just do. So I didn’t even mind that I had to stand most of the way on the first bus ride of the trip. I was just rocking out to my music and watching a guy play bubble breaker on his cell phone. I arrived in a nearby town called Turrialba about a hour and a half later. The tour guide, Carlos (who a Canadian student at the university had recommended and also who strangely reminded me of a Robin Williams character), met me at the bus station and took me to my hotel. I had to stay overnight there because the tour was leaving at 5 am. Gross.
So Saturday morning I got up at the butt crack of dawn and got in a van with the other 13 people on the tour. These people were… well… honestly some of them were probably old enough to be my grandparents, and the others at least as old as my parents, but not nearly as cool. So let’s just say I started off feeling pretty skeptical about my choice to go with a group instead of solo. However, I saw some serious beauty on that van ride through the mountains of Costa Rica which made me smile. In tropical climates there’s life everywhere. I love it.
From a city called Moin, we took a boat. I love boats. I really do. It was a small tour boat with a little covering. I sat in the very front until I got rained out and had to go sit in between Victor and Jorge. Jorge and Carlos took it upon themselves to tell me everything I didn’t want to know about everything. Jorge wanted me to learn the Spanish name of every single tree in Costa Rica (and let me tell you, there are tons). Carlos would lean over to me and put his hand on my shoulder and quietly tell me some interesting information and the names of all the rivers and birds… then he would tell the whole group. Now the thing is, Carlos doesn’t speak English. So he was telling me everything in Spanish… then saying everything again in Spanish to the group. These people just decided that they were gonna look after me like I was their niece/daughter/granddaughter. And it was so nice and they were great… but after being quizzed on 27 different names of trees and being interrupted while reading or relaxing to take a picture of something or learn the name of it, I was getting a little impatient. I started imagining The Little Mermaid when Flounder is mocking Scuttle, “This is this and that is that.” But don’t get me wrong, the people were super nice. They just wanted me to have a good time and feel included which of course is great.
As a side note… on Saturday the only English I spoke was 1. the word ‘Superman’ because on the boat Carlos was wearing a poncho and when he stood up the wind was blowing it around like a cape… so I said he looked like Superman. 2. singing the words to My Hips Don’t Lie and a Michael Jackson medley.
We visited a super small sand island called Parismina. It was interesting to walk around the island/village and see how the people lived. There had been a lot of rain so the “roads” were flooded… the ground was sand so it couldn’t really sink in. We had to climb across boats and over fences to avoid getting wet feet, which proved to be the most adventurous part of the trip.
Back in the boat we continued on to Tortuguero. We checked out the island a little and had dinner. After dinner a few people went “dancing”… which means Carlos and I danced a little bit which was kind of awkward.
Ok I’m getting tired and this is getting long…
The next day we got back in the boat… Now I had assumed that since Tortuguero is a famous turtle nesting ground I would see some turtles. Especially when we were going to “Turtle Beach”… but it ended up being a fancy resort. Then we took a nice hike along the beach, got in the boat and headed back for “free time”, lunch and then checked out and got back in the boat… but not before I saw the most depressing, disheartening thing I could ever imagine (if you’re easily grossed out, skip to the next paragraph). The only turtle I saw the whole time… was dead. A dead baby turtle who had lost his way. Instead of heading for the sea, he went inland and died. And ants were eating his face off. And I almost cried… I probably would have if it had not been so gross. So that was awfully disappointing to say the least.
So basically the highlight for me was the
boat. Altogether we probably spent about 5 or 6 hours riding around. The canals were absolutely beautiful and I just loved cruising through and seeing so many birds… and MONKEYS (I love monkeys) and an alligator and some iguanas in trees. It was awesome. On the ride back I sat in the very front the whole way with the wind on my face, and after being inspired by my friends’ old band (
Lone Wolf and Cub) I was able to marvel at everything yet again and smile and feel so happy and blessed to be were I was and see what I saw and experience what I experienced and even glad to have been able to practice Spanish so much.
Life is pretty darn good.
Holy smokes, I ramble when I'm tired. Tomorrow/today I go on a new adventure with the family I'm staying with...
Walking through the farm was almost surreal. It’s so strange to go back to a place, years later, when things are so different and so the same. Most of the people working there were new. Eugenia, the cook, was still there. I used to help her make breakfast at 5:30am every morning in the outdoor pavilion kitchen. A lot of the same animals were still there too… I’m pretty sure my canine compañera, Benjamina remembered me. She used to walk with me down into the valley when I stayed out in this one dorm by myself (about a 15 minute walk away from everyone else). She slept outside the door and waited for me to walk back in the morning. She also chased away the snakes (most of the time). 
There were some LASP students there doing their internship. I talked with this Canadian guy who was in the Spanish sped class. Oh dear. It reminded me of when I was a student… who had no idea what was going on and couldn’t speak Spanish at all. I’ve come a long way… in so many respects. 
I loved being at Mari’s house. Just that feeling of family is so significant. Her mom is great. For some reason, I just loved how Mari (and her sister when she came) wiped her hands on her mom’s apron. It was just a small absent-minded gesture that was really endearing. 
On Saturday and Sunday I went to Orotina with my Tico family. They have a house there with a big yard and lots of fruit trees. Eating star fruit off the tree? Don’t mind if I do. They said there used to be a lot of iguanas that came into the yard, but the neighbors ate them all. Whoops. 
