The Lost and Found

Bobe’ -

How are you my  meditating mejor amiga?  I hope you are having a very enlightening time at the Ashram.  What is it like?  Is it mentally/spiritually/physically tough?  I think about you all the time and hope you are in good spirits. Well, life is good here on my end.

I tagged along with Jacinthe and her best friend Melanie to Chiriqui, Panama on the overnight bus.  Chiriqui is a large province (state/region?) that is just west of Bocas and south of Costa Rica.  I had been through the region two times before since David is in Chiriqui and this is the main hub to catch any bus to Panama City or out of the country to Costa Rica.  We arrived in David around 0530 and caught the next bus to Boquete where we were to met one of Jacinthe’s friends she had met while traveling around Panama.  Boquete is an expat community that was founded after the French failed at making the Panama Canal. Although the Americans succeeded, it was brought to my attention that the only reason the French failed is because of Malaria and it was the Americans who connected Malaria to the  mosquitos who carry the virus.  I kind of laughed when the point was highlighted because really, let’s be serious, the canal isn’t the first time the French has failed.  So Boquete is this charming little town that is heavily landscaped with beautiful flowers.  No one can tell me for sure, but I am going to guess Boquete means bouquet which makes sense since the town’s landscape looks like one huge flower arrangement.  There are a ton of gringo expats and they are everywhere.  With it being such an international community, you can eat just about any cuisine or find amazing bookstores with nothing but English titles.  Although it’s not a true Panamanian town, it is still quite charming and the area around it is green, lush, mountainous, and is also where a lot of coffee is produced.

I’ve been told Panamanian coffee is famous and has won best in world for three years running.  Needless to say, there’s a bunch of money in Boquete and I heard a nice houses will cost just as much as if buying/building in the US.

We ate breakfast at this cute little cafe’ which just must be the eyes and ears of the town. Everyone knew everybody and no one could walk by without coming in for a quick conversation. It was so simple, yet I could tell it was a special place for those who’ve made it their morning routine.  The cafe’ was the designated spot for Jacinthe’s “friend”, Ellen, to met us.  Ellen. Wow.  I fear she’ll take up much of the blog for which she is not worthy, but unfortunately she plays a big part on our time out and about around The Lost and Found.  Ellen is from Austin, Texas, but she’s likely the most annoying Austin-ite I have ever come across.  Ellen is one of the those Americans who I just cringe when I met out of the country because she validates all the stereotypes foreigners have.  First off, she’s LOUD.  Now, I know I am loud.  I know my voice can carry and I’ve been accused of having a tone even when I didn’t even realize the “tone” was happening.  This chick is obnoxiously loud in that stereotypical American way.  Second, she’s FAT.  I mean F-A-T.  She makes me look like I’m a size 2.  I try not to judge someone by their size because I don’t know the struggles one overcomes, but she was gross.  Third, she has the same arrogance level as Ross.  Forth, TMI.  I don’t need to know about f*cking some guy so he’ll create a website for you.  When she was talking all about her sex-apades I just kept thinking of your saying “Fat girls do what skinny girls won’t.”  Fifth, well I don’t think I need to go on. Hopefully you get the point.  So while I sit having what just had been an enjoyable breakfast, I’m thinking oh great, I’m going to be stuck with this obnoxious ass for the next few days.  However, I really adore Jacinthe and Melanie and I wasn’t going to be the person to rain on a parade so I just kept my mouth shut and played nice.   First impressions can be priceless.

Before we had gotten to Boquete, Ellen had made all these plans with Jacinthe, which she in turn relayed to me.  Everything sounded great – we will hike, go to hot springs, go on a coffee/wine tour,  and party at night in the jungle.  Since our time was limited Ellen got on the phone to see if it was possible for us to do a tour that day.  The tours normally are with a minimum of four people, but we agreed to the $5 increase since there was just the three of us.  While we waited for the guy to pick us up, we discussed what we should get from the grocery store. At this time, Ellen informed we should buy everything from The Lost and Found because she is getting a cut and quite frankly the more we spend up there, the more money she will make from us. EXCUSE ME?  Now I’m wondering what is going on here? Once again, I stay silent.  Andrew (one of the owners of the Lost and Found) comes and picks us up and we first head to the Paradise Gardens which is an animal refuge.

The goal is to aid the animal back to health to release them back into the wild.  Of course some animals will never be able to live in the wild because they never learned any natural instincts from their mother.  The stories were sad because most of the animal’s (especially monkeys) mothers were killed so they could be sold as babies to humans and/or were abused by humans.  The garden survives on donations and is a volunteer only work environment.  The landscape and set up is absolutely beautiful.  I really enjoyed my time there and I got to go in the cage with the monkeys and they climbed all over me.  They are so much fun, just little spoiled babies who get jealous if you don’t pay attention to them.   I didn’t have my camera with me, but Jacinthe and Melanie both got pictures so hopefully they will send them to me soon.  Jacinthe has a really nice camera, a Nikon D5000, and pushy Ellen kept trying to take over the camera and asking to take certain pictures for her website.  After the garden, we went and saw some more sites around the area and then the rain came.  Our last destination was the hot springs and in the cool rain we hiked for about 20 minutes to reach the springs.  The springs were hot, but it was relaxing to have half your body heated, while the top portion was cooled by the rain drops.  We stayed in the springs until our fingers and toes were all wrinkly.  The rain came down even harder and we were drenched by the time we got back to the truck.  Since we were wet, the hour ride to the Lost and Found was a bit chilly.

The Lost and Found is situated in the Fortuna cloud forest reserve so it is not in a national park.  The area is a reserve because there is a hydropower dam in the area run by French Canadians.  Almost everyone who lives in the area are squatters meaning they live on government-owned land with zero rights.  The owners of The Lost and Found actually own the title to their 30+ acres of property that is right in the middle of the cloud forest and has an amazing view of Baru Volcano.  The lodge is about halfway up one of the hills/mountains so it was a wet and steep 15 minute hike with my backpack and wearing only my bathing suit and sarong.  To top it off, the day was ending and night came on quite quickly.  After the overnight bus, an all day long tour, and hiking up a steep hill I was ecstatic to learn there were hot showers with water pressure.  Oh, it felt so great to shower with hot water all while looking out and hearing the sounds of the jungle.  The owners, Andrew and Patrick, have built everything from scratch and it’s a beautiful piece of property next to coffee fields and citrus trees.

After my shower I helped myself to a glass of box wine (cause I’m classy like that and much lighter to hike with) and just reveled in the thought of finally being able to relax.  The staff was mostly made of volunteers and they were awesome.  Since the hostel is in the middle of no where, there is no small grocer or restaurants nearby.  Plus, whatever you buy you must hike up.  The hostel is run on the honor system with you tallying up what you buy from their store to fix for a meal.  By Panama standards, the items were expensive, but I guess one is paying for convenience.  The tally sheets are divided into two parts – the top half is completed by the staff for such items like laundry, tours, reserve fee, lodging costs, etc., etc.  The bottom half is where you are responsible for marking down the food you use.  All the sheets are listed by name and is on a cork board for easy access.  After I had a few glasses of wine, I noticed our (as in Jacinthe, Melanie, and myself) tally sheets had different prices marked for items I had previously been told the price.  I then noticed Ellen’s sheet had nothing charged.  I went and asked Jacinthe and she was wondering what was going on so we called Andrew over to ask.  According to Andrew, Ellen told him we were paying for her divided by the three of us.  EXCUSE ME?  We let Andrew know that not only had we not discussed paying her way, but we never agreed to such nonsense.  I was floored that some cow I just met and didn’t EVEN LIKE thought I was going to pay for her for the next three days.  Jacinthe was upset because she was led to believe this was an outing with a friend. I told Jacinthe it would be no problem for me to be the bitch of the group and have at Ellen.  It then turned kind of awkward with everyone asking us what was going on with that Ellen girl and how well did we know her.  Then Andrew told us his history with her and that he was cutting all ties.  To make a long story short, Jacinthe did talk to Ellen, and Ellen thought we hired her to take us to the Lost and Found.  I asked Jacinthe how could she had possibly known we hired her when it was never discussed.  Ellen claims we owed her for making the phone calls and arranging everything, but Jacinthe was quick to point out we could have done everything ourselves and she made it sound like it was a group of friends getting together to hang out at a cool spot.  We later met a group of German people who told us Ellen tried to charge them $30 a piece to get them to the Lost and Found.  I can’t believe the hustle this girl is trying to pull on people.  She’s only been living in Boquete for three months, knows nothing about the area, didn’t do a damn thing (but use her phone), and according to Patrick had never been to the Lost and Found before although she made it seem like she had been there a few times.  I was sickened each time a new person showed up to the hostel and subjected to listening to  Ellen play her hustle game.  Luckily for us, Ellen is fat and out of shape so she didn’t do any of the activities we had a great time doing while at The Lost and Found.  The next day we went on a 5 hour really tough hike.  I kept thinking about Anika and how she would’ve been in her element climbing over, under, and on top of trees.  The path was marked well, but it wasn’t cleared out because you cannot remove any trees when they fall since it disrupts how water flows into the dam.  There were some parts that were downright dangerous and had been washed out due to landslides and such.  The hike was trekking in its true form and there was nothing easy about it, but luckily we went at a good pace and I never felt tired until the very end when I started to get hungry and cranky.  I felt very accomplished once I got back to the Lost and Found.

The next day was the best because we went on an organic coffee tour.  Now, it wasn’t the best because of the coffee.  You know I’m not a coffee drinker, but it was the best because I had the pleasure to meet a wonderful farmer named Cune.   Cune is a childhood nickname for Felix Gonzalez Cortez who couldn’t say conejo which is rabbit in Spanish.  In the 70’s Cune moved to the area to farm.  His farm is Finca Margarita aka Finca de los Locos because Cune is known as the crazy farmer.  Cune is probably the smartest uneducated (in the formal sense) man I have ever met.  He’s wonderful and I loved watching him and listening to him talk.  He only knows limited English such as lunch, push, and let’s go, but surprisingly I was able to understand a lot of what he was saying although we did have a translator.  While we enjoyed fresh coffee, passion fruit, oranges, blackberries, and raspberries, he explained to us the history of the farm and the decision to turn his farm organic. His farm is known as the crazy farm because he’s the only organic farmer in the region.  Ironically, he became organic after learning some tips from the German company who used to sell him the pesticides.  He figured if he could lessen the amount of pesticides used, then he could eliminate them all together and go organic.  He showed us all the tricks to his trade which he learned from trial and error such as putting grease on a stick with a large fly swatter attached and hanging a lamp above a bucket of water.  Once the bugs are captured he then can tell which bugs are infesting certain plants.  There is also a plant that acts as a natural repellent for bugs and if you rub the leaves on yourself you can be protected too.  There is a ten process in order to become certified organic and Cune’s farm is in its final year.  He has about 2000 Geisha coffee trees which is the most expensive coffee in the world selling on store shelves for $300 a pound.  It takes a few years for the trees to produce so his Geisha beans will be harvested in two years. Here is Cune with his Geisha coffee trees.

Cune has banana, papaya, guava trees, numerous berry bushes, and an organic garden. There are also free range chickens roaming around and about 90% of what Cune eats comes from his land–he barters for the rest.  Not only did I learn about coffee, but I also watched juice made from a sugar cane which was a delicious treat with the fresh squeezed orange juice added.

We saw how coffee is produced on Cune’s farm and afterward, enjoyed a delicious organic/free range lunch.  We then got to sample as much home-made wine we wanted although it was a little to acidic for me.  Cune was delightful and the tour was magnificent.

I would recommend his tour for everyone and it was a real treat away from the mass produced coffee farms only an hour away.

I thought of you a lot during the tour and I really wished you could have been there with me.  So far, visiting Cune’s farm is definitely a high-light of my trip.

After three amazingly cool days in the jungle, we headed back to Panama City on another late bus.  Unlike last time, I got decent sleep in the movie theater at Luna’s Castle.  I was so excited to see Molly and Aron and they told me all about the crazy party I missed on Saturday night.  I haven’t done much the past few days, but catch up on email, upload pictures, and of course update the blog.  Today, my stomach is killing me.  I don’t know if I have food poison from the shrimp we cooked last night or what, but I’ve felt like crap all day.  Tomorrow I finally leave on the boat sailing to Cartagena, Colombia.  Check out the boat I’ll be on.

http://theandiamo.com/logwp/sail-andiamo/

The captain Tony is another loud American, but he seems really fun and I know almost everyone who’ll be on the boat.  We’ll be spending two days on San Blas before sailing to Colombia.  I’ll be in Colombia for a little over a week because I need to meet Sherry in Peru to do our Machu Picchu trek.  I miss you!!!!  Sending good positive vibes your way.  Besos chica…

Ness

Salsa City

¡Hola Bobe’!

I adore each and every one of your blog updates from India and I feel like I score a Cracker Jack surprise each time I go online and see something new has been posted.  I read your blog last night when I got back to the hostel a wee bit drunk from a night out at the casino (more on that later), but I just re-read it now and got a bit sentimental and realized just how much I miss you and hate that I am here in Panama and you are in India.  Two really cheap, chaotic countries half a world apart.

For the past four days I’ve been in Panama City and I think I just may have found my retirement destination if I ever do return to the real world and stay at a job long enough to draw a pension.  I finally understand why Leti gets that look of glee in her eyes whenever she talks about Panama.  Panama is just so good for the soul.  It’s lively, colorful, musical, gritty, and spicy.  I have come to think of Costa Rica as the pretty girl who just assumes all the guys like her based on looks alone.  If a guy isn’t interested, he must be gay.  She never has to try to win anyone over because her looks have always gotten her along in life so there is no real substance where it matters most.  Panama is the average looking girl who guys may not look twice at, but in the end will charm with her zest for life, adventurous spirit, spicy attitude, and wicked sense of humor.  Costa Rica is beautiful, but it doesn’t have to try to win people over. It’s assumed to be the gem of Central America…low crime, good infrastructure, eco-friendly, etc., but I don’t like pretty shiny things.  I like a little grit and a little spice and that’s my Panama.  People in Panama seem just so happy to live——->life! They are always smiling, playing music, singing to themselves, and dancing in the aisle of the grocery store when they think no one is looking.  I’m a bit over-whelmed with Panama, but in a “I got a new boyfriend and I’m a little giddy with all the newness of getting to know and fall for someone new” kind of way.

I honestly do not know where to start with Panama City because  so much has happened in the past few days.  The sole reason for coming to Panama City was to just met up with Selenia and then head on the first boat out to Colombia.  Well, Selenia left without me.  Not rudely, she sent a very sweet and sincere email so I knew in San Jose a few hours before I was due to get on yet another early morning bus.  The sailboat to Colombia has been on my mind every since my first day in Costa Rica when I met Selenia in Monteverde.  I was a little bummed she had to leave because I know we would’ve had a blast, but I understand she was on a more strict time constraint than me.  Since the international bus line was full, my back-up plan was to get on a bus to David and then transfer there to Panama City.  I was a little worried to be traveling in Panama City at midnight, but I met a guy and girl who were traveling to Panama so I had other backpacking buddies to hang out with for the 17 hour trip.  The trip to David was great.  We all sat on the back row and became fast friends and talked almost the entire 7 hours.  The meat locker on wheels bus to Panama City was another story.  By the time we got on the road dark was arriving, it was raining, and the a/c was on full blast.  I’m not sure if they were trying to prove a point about having a/c, but I became really aware quickly that not only does the a/c work, but it was working overtime since condensation kept dripping on everyone in a window seat.  For the first time in almost a month of riding buses practically every other day, I could not fall asleep no matter what position I tried to put myself in.  The light above my seat didn’t work so I couldn’t read and the tv  flashed so violently it would’ve put an epileptic into a seizure.  All in all, it made for a long second half of the trip.  Although it was half past midnight, unbeknownst to me the night would still be young.  Since the reception at the hostel closed at midnight, they invited night arrivals to sleep in their “comfy” movie room.  The movie room was pimp.  They had all these day beds all over a large room and some were stacked into the largest bunk style couch I’ve ever seen.  I really was looking forward to finally fall asleep.  Instead, I couldn’t and right when I was just drifting off after an hour of itching my bug infested skin, I had the pleasure to know  “Ellen” and “George”.  I could smell the alcohol from Ellen, George, and German guy even before they entered the movie room.  Ellen decides to plop herself on my bus buddy who had been fast asleep for hours and put her feet in my face.  She is wasted and has no idea there was anyone in the room, but I make my presence (and Simon’s) known.  She’s very apologetic although I just want her to shut her mouth so I don’t have to smell her alcohol drenched breathe.  Ellen is content to spend the night with Simon and I, but George wasn’t having none of it.  The man must get laid!  He pleads and whines to have Ellen come to room and she said she wants to lay here forever.  They get in a fight when German guy comes in with his personal email card so they can keep in touch because she’s such an awesome chick and then I think Ellen and German guy start making out in front of George.  Of course it was pitch-black and I didn’t see this, but I know what kissing sounds like.  This sends George into a fit of rage and he and Ellen start screaming at each other and then George must be a bit of a bitch because he starts whining about how much he cares about her and why is she acting this way.  Dude, Ellen doesn’t want your sausage tonight.  For an hour (no exaggeration) Ellen and George proceed to fight, yell, crash into the walls, get physically violent with one another, and I think (because of my awesome hearing) ended the night with make-up sex in the hallway.    What a way to spend the night after spending 17 hours on a bus.  Not much sleep was had my first night in Panama, but it was free so I can’t really complain and I made sure to tell a bunch of people about my encounter with Ellen who I was told is a bit of a mess.  The next night, my friend heard two gay guys having sex when she had to crash in the movie room so I suppose it could have been worse.

Ok, so I know I raved about Antorchas in Dominical and The Wide Mouth Frog in Quepos, but Luna’s Castle in Panama City is the hippest and coolest hostel I have EVER stayed out.  First of all, it’s in a HUGE, three floor mansion in the Casco Viejo area of the city.  Casco Viejo is one of the cities oldest areas and the buildings and streets remind me of Portugal or pictures I’ve seen of Cuba.

Casco Viejo is a bit run down, but they are putting a lot of money into sprucing the area and it’s starting to slowly becoming a trendy place to open very expensive cafe’s and restaurants right next door to a gutted, rat infested building.  Luna’s castle is a mansion with high ceilings, dark wood floors, wide staircases, beautiful balconies a la French Quarter, and enough chill space to accommodate the 100 people staying here.  Despite being enormous, it doesn’t fill big nor do you get the sense you’re just another traveler passing through.  Strangely enough, this place feels like home.  The staff remembers your name and goes above and beyond with explaining every answer in detail.  There are these huge windows everywhere with amazing views and the place is loaded with tons of abstract art hanging everywhere.  The artwork is brilliant and no matter how many times you look at a single piece it is as if you are looking at an entirely new painting.   Luna’s book exchange is the best I’ve ever come across.  Of course the book exchange is so great, because one very selective guy (another Book Nerd 4 Life) gets to decide if a book is worthy to exchange. Only then does he unlock the padlock and allow one to swap out.  There were easily 10+ books I was dying to read.  They even had Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead.

The hostel also has a bar called Relic.  Remember the bar we loved at the hostel in Toronto?  Well, Relic makes that white-light patio oasis look like the Crossroads smoking area. Relic is GORGEOUS!!!!  Relic could be an upscale bar in any big city and it’s a hostel bar.  It reminds me a lot of nice bars in Europe with the exposed stone walls, thick dark wood furniture, wrought iron fixtures with low-wattage lighting, and a beautiful patio.  They thought of everything when designing Relic all the way down to purse hooks under the tables.  As hostel guests we get charged phenomenal happy hour prices like $.50 beers and $1.50 cocktails.  Oh, and like most hostel owners in Panama, they are American and young.  They are the same people who own Hostel Mondu Taiatu and Heike in Bocas Del Toro.  They have since sold Mondu, but they have a GREAT thing going with Luna’s.  I love it and all the people who come through.

I have run into a bunch of people from Bocas so I’ve been hanging out with my wonderful French Canadian friend, Jacinthe (Ja-Saint), my crazy-fun Belizian-American friend Molly (who went to LSU), and my adorable Dutch bud, Aron.  My first day in Panama, I went to the mall with Jacinthe and got the worst pedicure of my life.  The pedicurist was a masochist.  I think I’m quite tolerant of pain, but this beast of a woman dug and dug until I bled.  I think she took great pleasure in seeing me yell and squirm in pain.  Ironically, Molly had the same masochist bitch a few days earlier, but she knows enough Spanish to speak her mind and walk out without paying.  I wish I had the huevos and habla español skills to have done the same.  Jacinthe and I spent all day at the mall.  Seriously.  I think that it was the longest I have ever spent at the mall in my entire life.  The mall was nice, but all the stores were practically selling the same cheap clothes.  Sometimes you could find a shirt from Target’s Mossimo collection, Abercrombie and Fitch, or Forever 21 for less than $3.  I think the fashions are about two – four years behind and in the most brightest of colors.  Central Americans love bright colors so orange and hot pink are popular choices.

The next day Jacinthe and I went down to the Causeway and rode one of Panama’s national treasures – the golf cart style bikes for two or four if you’re a family of little people.

The bike ride along the Causeway was a delightful treat and so much fun.  Jacinthe and I laughed a lot. Especially when we noticed ridiculous funny street signs like this running meat head.

The view of the city from the causeway was awesome.  This is the same view I actually have from my dorm room at Luna’s.

The way Panama City is laid out along the waterfront kind of reminds me of Izmir and it really is not too far of a walk from Casco Viejo to the downtown area which is mostly condos.

Later that day,  back at the hostel I ran into a girl I had met on the ferry from Montezuma, who is also from Louisiana. For the past four years,  her and her boyfriend run a pub crawl business in Prague and travel during the off season.  Along with Jacinthe, we decided to go to the local market for a nice dinner meal of fresh fish.  As we were walking two kids approached us.  These kids approached us right in the middle of one of those moments where I was loving life, truly soaking in my new found lover Panama with a permanent smile on my face.  The kids had their hands in their clothes acting like they had a gun.  While I knew they didn’t have a gun, I thought they could very possibly have a knife.  I was the only one carrying a purse (diagonal across my body) so the one kid tried to grab my purse strap, but I pulled back away from his grasp.  He went for it again, but at this time a woman started screaming at them from the projects across the street.  When he knew he wasn’t going to get the purse, the little shit slapped me in the face and I even lost my hoop earring during the scuffle.  A big, black man in an SUV pulled over and got out of his car yelling at the kids and only then did they run off.  I could just tell by his face that the guy was just so disgusted and could not believe what he was seeing. I wasn’t really that shaken up over the ordeal, but I kept thinking of the Brazilian movie, City of God, where kids as young as 5/6 were running around robbing and shooting people.  When we got back to the hostel, we told Peter (the hot half Hungarian/Panamanian receptionist/Relic bartender) and he said the kids were the ones doing the shootings and he felt really bad because he gave us the safe route to go.  I told him the kids were just really ballsy and the thought to try to rob us was a spur of the moment decision between them.  It was obvious they were amateurs, but whose to say the next 8 year olds are not?  An old guy helped us get a taxi and we just scratched off getting fish and got wine and ordered Dominos pizza instead. Now I can’t stand dirty, little Panamanian kids.  Give me a cute old guy wearing a Panamanian straw hat. Despite the little tussle, I still love Panama.  Everyone deserves three strikes.

One of my favorite things about the city are the buses.  The buses are so pimp and according to Molly they are all individually owned so the owners can decorate them anyway they want.  Xzibit (or a Panamanian counterpart) should have a show called Pimp My old American school Bus.  Add a little salsa music to the show’s track and it’ll be a smash hit.

Another favorite are the cheap cafeterias where you can eat a whole plate of food for $1.45!  Jacinthe and I went to a vegetarian cafeteria and each serving was only $.50.  Score!!!

I also love seeing the Kuna women in the streets with their beaded arm and leg bracelets.  They are beautiful and so petite and graceful.

Like any good tourist, I have my very own Kuna leg bracelet that is purple, blue, and black and is still so tight on my leg it almost, almost looks like sausage casing.

Panama City has a ton of casinos.  They are everywhere and Molly is as big of a gambler as me so once night we decided to head out to see if Lady Luck was on our side.  Like the budget backpacker ballers we are, we only played with less than $50, but fortunately for us Roulette was only $.25 per bet.  How sweet is that?!?!  Especially since we almost lost all our money at Blackjack within one free drink on the Casino.  Roulette was so much fun and I was so lucky.  I have no idea to play, but at $.25 a bet I picked a few numbers and hit a bunch of times.  I ended up making back almost all my money so it was a pretty successful night out.  However, I drank way too much. Way more than one should while solo traveling in a foreign country.  I got separated from Molly and another guy so I decided it was best I go back to the hostel and lucky for me I could habla enough to get my self back to my little haven aka Luna’s Castle.

The next morning while fighting a hangover, we decided to go to the canal locks at Miraflores.  The canal consists of three different locks, but I think Miraflores is the set of locks meant for tourist viewing and has a little museum on the history of the canal.  I completely geeked out watching one of the seven modern wonders of man while Jacinthe and Aron were bored to tears.

First the boat is tied to these cable car that have tracks along the canal.  I think the amount of cable cars needed is in direct correlation to how big the boat is.

Second, the water from this reserve is drained out at 8 million gallons per minute.

To here

Once the water transfer is complete, then the gates open up (workers can actually cross over these gates between the two canals).

Now the boat is ready to pass through the locks.  Here are two boats that passed through while we were watching. The blue boat on the right is the largest vessel allowed to pass through.  This company is also the canal’s biggest customer.  Both boats came from the Pacific heading now to the Atlantic.

While watching the cargo ships pass through I wondered if my stuff ever went through the canal when I moved from Korea to Italy and I also thought a lot about my grandpa Nesser who was a Captain on cargo ships transporting all over Asia and South America.  I could have stayed there all day watching the ships pass through–definitely a neat experience to see.

I am leaving the city for a few days to go discover the jungles of Panama in the Chiriqui region which is in the Northwest part of the country.  I am really looking forward to escaping the sweltering heat of the city and getting to smell fresh cool air.

I miss you!  I know you’re at the Ashram now.  Thinking of you non-stop and hoping you are not a yoga school drop-out.  ***giggle***

Ness

 

My(throat is)sore

Namaste’ Nessie,

Hello from a place with internet civilization!  I just arrived in Mysore last night after spending the most wonderful 3 days in the mountainous Kodagu (or Coorg) region  and before that 4 days on the south Karnataka coast town of Gokarna which I mentioned in the last post.  Mysore is home to a most fabulous palace and put Ashtanga yoga on the international map.   I am still traveling with Sarah, my German/Tunisian/yoga/travel buddy since Hampi and like you being sad to part with ways with Anika, will be sad to see her head off to Nacik to start her yoga teacher training course tomorrow.  We also met up with Singh, my neighbor when I was in Hampi whom I also ran into in Gokarna.  Singh is a (get ready for this) Punjabi Indian by heritage, born and brought up in Singapore, traveled to the states for college and then lived in both Virginia and Florida for the last 25 or so years.  He speaks Hindi, Chinese, English, Punjabi, and Malay, worked in “mergers and acquisitions” but recently quit and just finished a Southeast Asia backpack trip with his niece.  I suspect he is fabulously wealthy and just slumming it around the world for the fun of it. He is great company and a welcome sight whenever I run into him around India.  It also helps to have him around when trying to wheel and deal because he can play the Indian card and speaks the language.

The past week has been so fantastic, both places (Gokarna and the Kodagu region) being so completely different in terms of scenery and climate but what they did share in common–tranquility, genuine friendliness from locals, and as Anika would put it, “good, clean fun”–I haven’t really felt in other places I’ve traveled to in India.  There was a remotely wild beauty to both areas that made you feel all the trouble it took just to get there was more than worth it.  First up…Gokarna!

Sarah and I stayed at an awesome place called “Namaste Yoga Farm”, run by both a German man and his Spanish girlfriend, Oliver and Lucia and a blond dreaded Russian named Sergei.  Sergei seemed to bring in most of the business.  We apparently had just missed a 2 week “Tantric Yoga” holiday package.  I’m not sure exactly what all of the holiday package included but for some reason, I was really glad I missed it.   There were quite a few Russians that decided to linger after and they provided endless entertainment as you could imagine.  How is it that Russian women can make even something as elegant and tasteful as a sari look slutty?  It is a god given talent I tell you.  On our second night Sergei and the rest of his comrades had some sort of costume/bring your own musical instrument party.  The costumes ranged from ornate, silky saris to leaves sewn on body stockings in strategic places.  Glitter and flower petals were the accessories of the night.  The men were not to be outdone and were dressed in toga like outfits,  long flowy pants sans shirts and there was even a very young man dressed as a cossack carrying around a cross.  The fête was complete with music and some interesting dance numbers.  One older lady wearing 3 inch chimey anklets replicated what I believe to be some traditional Indian dance with all the concentration and precision of a former USSR gymnast on the balance beam.  It was a sight to behold!  Let’s just call her Irina.  Irina stamped her chimey feet and clapped her hands in a synchopantic frenzy!  There was also a couple swaying à la eighth grade dance gazing into each other eyes never veering for a second even as the rest of the party got into the big finale of drumming and dancing wildly in that awkwardly Eastern European way.  Sarah and I figured they were leftovers from the “Tantric” sessions and were unsurprised when woken up later by heavy panting and moans from the bungalow next door. 

Anyway, our room was more like a house minus unessentials such as windows but they did provide an industrial strength mosquito net and our view from up high on the rocky hills overlooking Kudle Beach was  beautiful.  I must admit–I am not a big fan of the beaches in India thus far.  I can’t help that I grew up Miami Beach as my backyard and the water is blue and see-through.  Plus, littering is something of a national sport–second only to spitting or cricket–making only the most remote beaches clean.  Gokarna being somewhat of a challenge to get to has been able to retain some natural beauty without locals and tons of tourists mucking it up.  The Gokarna area actually encompases 4 beaches all seperated by a rugged jungle hike much like our beloved hike that we did in Sydney from Bondi to Bronte beach.  First there is Gokarna, almost strictly local and the dirtiest.  Then Kudle beach, more serene but not quite as beautiful as Om Beach and then finally Paradise beach which we never made it to because Sarah and I got horribly, horribly lost in the jungle after sunset without a torch.  (I have now taken to calling flash-lights torches because I keep being corrected by everyone I meet.  The Brits did colonise India after all).  The story is better told in person, of course, but let’s just say a full moon and fireworks probably saved our life lighting up pieces of trail and finally a main road.  So much more to tell but I have been given the 30 minute warning!  On to the Kodagu region!

According to Lonely Planet, “The mountainous Kodagu (or Coorg) region is home to the Kodava people and refugee Tibetans. The geography and cool climate make it a fantastic area for trekking, bird-watching and generally refreshing the soul.  Winding roads ramble over forested hills and past spice and coffee plantations, which burst into fragrant white blossoms in March and April.”  Lonely Planet couldn’t have been more spot on.  On a whim Sarah and I decided to venture away from the beach and had both, almost simultaneously suggested the same place.  Off we went on another bumpy bus ride at 6:30 AM to catch another bus into Marikeri and then the next day we found the most wonderful place called Honey Valley another bud ride away in Kakkabed.  From the where the bus dropped us off, we had to hike in 3.5 KM just to get there. I wish we could have a reunion here!!!  The place holds up to 60 people in various rustic cottages, some only holding 2, some more like apartments.  They even had huts built into the jungle!  We went for the most basic accommodation.  Our bathroom was unattached but it was actually really cool because it had this cauldron sized water tank that was heated by a fire made for just us each night.  The bathroom turned into a mini sauna and was a much welcomed retreat after 8 hours of hiking.   Honey Valley offered the tastiest ORGANIC home cooked food which they put out buffet style (even though it was just 2 of us in the whole place) complete with coffee and teas fresh from the local plantations.  The staff were fantastic anticipating every need and then some.  Our main go-to guy whose name I could never remember procured us a torch from town even and only charged us what it cost.  They even had beer, whiskey and cigarettes, you know, in case someone should want such a thing.  Did I mention a fire ring just outside of our cabin!  Oh Ness, I haven’t even gotten to the hiking yet!  I really wished you were there…I missed you a lot in Honey Valley.
Sarah and I tried to hike the tallest peak, we’ll just call it Mt. T for short (the real name is something like Mt. Timmhgaakthhththalkjii) but decided after we got all the way to the base that time was not permitting.  We had a trail guide written by an American family provided by the honey valley people but it was a few years old, not especially thorough and many parts of the different trails were overgrown but still findable.  It just took more time than expected stopping to find the trails, backtracking when the land didn’t match the map, etc…All in all it was still fantastic and we estimated that we probably logged about 20Km in one day.  We met a great young Indian man named Krishna along the trail who was on his way to the top of Mt T. also and planned to camp there.  Very unusual for an Indian. He got his tent from Bangalore but mentioned that I should be able to find a tent in Mysore no problem.  We’ll see.  Sarah and I left honey valley (sadly ) but we had to move on to .  We caught 3 different buses and finally arrived around 8PM, called my friend Singh and he directed us to a nice cheap hotel.  I wish I could say I enjoyed Mysore but I just didn’t.  Minus the palace which was a breath-taking blend of Indian, Arabic and English architecture, Mysore felt pretty souless.  I think after a week of almost bliss at the beach and then in the mountains didn’t help either.  Mysore just seemed that much dirtier, noisier, the people that much stupider and irritating.  It also didn’t help that I fell violently ill the second night there.  I had just seen Sarah off to the bus station and was feeling not quite right for a few hours but chalked it up to all the sweets and sickeningly sweet almond milk after dinner.  God, just writing about the Almond milk and sweets days later sent a pang of queasiness through my belly just now.  The amount of sugar these people consume is obscene!  I had planned on going to the internet cafe’ after seeing her off but just then knew I had better get to my filthy flea bag but only 2 dollarsroom hotel.  Well, I won’t go into all the details but let’s just say eventually there was bile and I am just glad I didn’t have any “explosive” episodes.  The, as usual, overstaffed internet place is waving their arms about so I know it is time to go.  Why can’t places that actually need staffing, like say, the bus station have this many people?  Good God, this place is bizarre.  Anyway, loads more to fill you up on!  I can’t wait to tell you all about the cyclone I survived and the massive landslides of Ooty where I just managed to get out of today.  I am safe and sound and with 2 other girls.  I miss you and love you and pray for you every night. 

5 Lbs. lighter Bobe’

10 Little Monkeys

Bobe’ -

Well, it happened.  I finally fell in love with Costa Rica.  The Costa Rica everyone I know raves about.  I’ll have to admit I was a tough lover to win over.  I didn’t quite get the hype and while I was in Panama I wondered why am I not here instead of wasting spending my time giving Costa Rica chance after chance after chance. Up until a few days ago, I was not impressed with Costa Rica. Yes, it’s nice.  Yes, extremely beautiful, but so are a lot of countries.  I had not yet come across any area that got into my soul like Dubrovnik or South Africa.  Why does this place have such a devout following?   I pressed forward and I am so glad I did.  After Panama, Anika and I made our way to the Pacific coast which I’m just crazy for.  Our first stop was Dominical.  I love Dominical.  It’s small, it’s slow, but it’s also peaceful and tranquil and everyone seemed so darn happy and content to just lounge away the days.  I believe it also helped to stay in one of the best hostels thus far on my trip.  I loved Antorchas and the people who own, work, and stay there.

I did much of nothing while in Dominical, yet I had a fabulous time.  Anika and I hanged out with a real group of comedic characters–Cristian from Ibiza; Albert from Barcelona; and Tuan from France.

Cristian is an artist and DJ.  He freelances artwork all around Costa Rica doing murals for surf shops, hostels, restaurants, etc., etc.  However, I think his best talent is comedy. He had me in stitches explaining how to do drugs.  Now, normally I don’t think drugs is a funny subject matter nor do I care how, in minute detail, to smoke hash, snort coke, or make crack and meth.  However, picture Roberto Benigni from La Vita é Bella (Life is Beautiful) giving the drug lesson because this is Cristian. Not only is Cristian as animated as Robert Benigni, but he sounds just like him.  It was uncanny and wonderful–I was in awe.  I was laughing so hard and I wanted more drug lessons.  Tell me more!!!!  How do you burn the ends of the hash (using a wine cork as an example)?  I mean, these lessons are coming from a guy who is from Ibiza, the party capital if not the world, definitely Europe.  When Roberto Cristian demonstrated how to cut coke and snort it I vividly flashed back to the movie scene when Guido was a waiter and with slapstick enthusiasm explained all the meal options for the doctor.  Watching Cristian was as if I was watching Roberto Benigni.  It was magical and when I mentioned the similarity everyone agreed. I laughed so hard until my sides were sore and my eyes filled up with tears.   We decided to spend another night in Dominical, but it was a slow day since it rained non-stop.

The hostel had a really nice outdoor living room area with cable so I spent most of the day hanging out there and relaxing.

Since we were kind of on a time limit, I didn’t think we would have time to do both Manuel Antonio and Montezuma so we decided to skip Manuel Antonio to spend a day of traveling to get to Montezuma.  A day I like to call bus, bus, ferry, bus day.  Traveling via the bus and/or boats are some of my most favorite moments of the trip.  Looking out the window and watching the countryside go by just never gets boring.  It’s so relaxing and most times I doze off so the trip goes by really fast.  I love it.  I laughed my arse off when I read your Hampered By Hampi blog because your bus adventures experiences sound a bit like mine except I’m sure your buses smell a lot like curry.  For instance, when we took the boat from Tortuguero to Moin we had to take a bus to Puerto Limon to continue on to Puerto Viejo.  The bus stop was a tree.  No markings, no signs, just a little pathetic looking tree with some trash around it.  We did know we were in the right spot though because a few cars passed us by yelling “Gringas, the bus is coming.”  I guess our backpacks make us stick out a bit.  Also, I’ve been on some bumpy Costa Rican roads, for good reason almost everyone drives a 4 x 4, but the road into Montezuma takes the cake.  To begin with, I sat in the back where the seats were no longer hinged down properly, but rather just hinged on one side to make a rocking chair effect.  I’m not a little girl.  I have a big butt and if this solid body of mine can have lift off from the seat,then that must be one hell of a bump.  I made air a few times so I think if I had not held on there would have been a good possibility that the seat could have catapulted me into the air and down the aisle.  All I could do was laugh.  It was kind of fun.  Unfortunately, the rain that was down south in Dominical followed us to Montezuma so we arrived after 10 hours of travel having to find accommodation in the dark and in the rain.  I’m getting kind of used to always being wet.  Thank god I spent money on clothes that wick and dry super fast.  Thank you REI.  Once we found a spot, we dumped our gear and headed out to check (this time with a flashlight) out the town. We didn’t get too far.  I noticed a restaurant that played movies for free with a dinner purchase. The catch was the dinner was really expensive.  I’ve gotten accustomed to eating casado plates at cheap sodas so this would definitely be a splurge, but it was so delicious.  I had a fabulous spicy mahi mahi fillet layered over the best mashed potatoes I’ve had in recent memory.  The movie of the night was My Life In Ruins with Nia Vardalos who played a tour guide in Greece. The movie definitely played up on national, gender, and age stereotypes, but with us having worked on the train it was quite funny because we know it to be true.  Like Anika said, “good, clean fun” and quite frankly there wasn’t much going on in Montezuma.  It rained all night and our hotel was right on the beach so I’m not sure if it was all the water I drank throughout the day or my sub-conscience hearing the waves break against shore, but I must have broken a personal record for getting up SEVEN times to pee throughout the night.  TMI?

It had rained all through the night and rained off and on during the day.  Montezuma is said to be this really wonderful hippie surf town, but it was very sleepy and with the constant rain it put a little damper on our spirits, especially since it had been raining almost all day, every day since returning from Panama.  Despite the rain, we headed to go hike the Montezuma Water Falls that just sounded amazing according to the LP travel writer.  According to LP, the hike was easy with well-marked trails and only about 20 minutes from town.  We found the trail with no problem, but then ended up in an area where I had no idea where to go.  The mountain goat Anika and I trekked across what we thought was a trail, but the more I went the more I thought the mud cliff to uncertain death was not a trail, but land washed out from all the rain.  Despite having travelers insurance, I still wimped out and wanted to head back.  After all, I am a city kid and like my paths well-marked.  I felt a little bit better when we turned around and passed a group of people who told us that the river was really high and that it was impossible to cross over to the trail because of all the water powerfully flowing over the rocks.

We then headed to the beach, but the weather was blah and the water felt really cold.  To waste time, we went to this really cute oasis called Organico.  Like I mentioned before, Montezuma is a little slice of Hippie Heaven so there were plenty of vegetarian and organic options available along with a hefty price tag.  Throughout the day I spent over 8 dollars drinking two glasses of lemonade.  One a strawberry lemonade and the other a mint lemonade.  Thankfully, it was super fresh and delicious so I choose to ignore the fact I spent so much money on non-alcoholic drinks.  Organico had a nice zen room with wi-fi, books, magazines, and games.  The lounge couches were really low to the ground and the purple, brown, and fuchsia colored walls really warmed up my dreary spirit.  We spent a few hours there hanging out (what else is there to do on a rainy day) and decided to leave Montezuma and go to Quepos/Manuel Antonio where we hoped to escape the rain.

Aaaahhhhhh…Quepos/Manuel Antonio.  The destination where I found my heart and allowed myself to buy into the hype of Costa Rica.  I love it here!!!  I kind of think it’s a good thing that this is the last destination with Anika because I very well may have never left to venture all around Costa Rica.  Later today, I might actually shed a little tear when I have to get on the bus for San Jose.  Of course, as it’s becoming routine, we arrived to Quepos during another rainfall and with the entire town going through an electricity outage. This would be the third time in under three weeks that electricity has gone out while in a hostel.  Never a dull moment, that is for sure.  Even in the dark, I could just tell the hostel was amazing and when the lights came back on, it was a real treat to see just how nice it was.  I highly, highly recommend Wide Mouth Frog hostel.  http://www.widemouthfrog.org/  If it is not the best, it is one of the best hostels I’ve ever stayed at.  The place is owned and run by a 30 something Kiwi couple and the wife looks just like Kylie Minogue.  I asked her if she had ever been told so and she said not in many years so I think I made her day.  The hostel has everything a great hostel should have–wifi, free breakfast and according to Anika, great coffee, a nice well-stocked kitchen, a huge patio, outdoor living room with a wonderful selection of free DvD movies, but the best is there are wine glasses.  Well, they are plastic wine glasses, but I was just impressed they had a nice supply.  So right this minute, I am a happy content little camper using free wifi and enjoying a plastic/glass of wine.  Luckily the rain stopped just long enough for Anika and I to enjoy the most beautiful day on the beach.  Based on Kylie Minogue’s Doppelganger’s suggestion we opted to bypass the free public beach and instead pay the $10 to go inside the Manuel Antonio National Park to enjoy the beach there.  We were told we would not be disappointed and it was indeed a marvelous little slice of utopia.

The sky was blue with barely a cloud in sight, the water was clear, the sand was fine, and there were tons of monkeys to keep us all entertained.

Watching the monkeys in action was definitely a highlight of the day.  We must have followed the monkeys 200+ feet down the beach watching them fight with one another, try to take people’s belongings from the beach, hug, and put on a show for all the people watching them and taking pictures (guilty).  This little monkey was a hoot.  He posed, he jumped up and down, and he waited patiently for everyone to snap a picture.

I’m not sure if he was actually trying to get into the trash can or just playing around like a little monkey should, but this raccoon sure knew what to do despite the trashcan being tied down.  This lil guy was no amateur.

Of course, once the trashcan was opened the 10 little monkeys went crazy, taking out the trash and climbing around the trees eating through the plastic ziploc bags. It was kind of sad because all over the beach are signs to not feed the monkeys, yet they still can get to human food because of the raccoon and a few morons I witnessed who chose to ignore the signs.

Needless to say, the monkeys were the excitement to such a relaxing day on the beach. While Anika and I were in the water, a monkey tried to take off with one of our flip flops or our bag, but luckily a girl sitting close by snatched it away and the monkey took off like a scolded child.

When we were leaving the beach area I even got to see a sloth from really close up.  The sloth was less than 15 feet away and up until yesterday I had not seen one so close.  So here is a really good picture of your sloth.

They are ugly little things–a face only a mommy could love.

So I found my very own little piece of utopia on the Pacific coast of Costa Rica.

Today, I leave Anika and truly venture out on my own.  I’m really excited, but nervous too.  It really is nice to have a buddy especially when you show up to a hostel for the first few hours and are feeling your way around a new place.  Anika has been a great travel buddy and there is hardly ever a dull moment between her asking a million personal questions or singing show tunes.  She’ll be missed and I hope to see her again while traveling and navigating foreign destinations.

Today I head to San Jose where I’ll be hopefully getting on the 10 pm Tica bus to go to Panama City, Panama.  I will not arrive in Panama City until 3 pm eastern time so I have one long ride ahead of me. I hope to met up with Selenia so we can find a boat to sail to Colombia on. I’ve met a lot of people who are doing the boat so I really hope there is a spot for us.  I have a ticket to Guatemala for the 17th so my days are kind of limited although I am just thinking about canceling Guatemala for the moment.  Not sure just yet though.  So for now I leave you with a little monkey hug.

Loves & Hugs,

Ness

Bocas, Bocas Del Toro

Dear Bobe´ -

Not sure where in India you are, but due to the lack of communication I´m certain you are not in the technological hub of Mumbai, but rather the India with no electricity, internet cafe´s or wifi zones.   I will continue to think that this blog is a priority and you are not wasting your precious time on Perez Hilton.  Love you.

I, too, am guilty for falling behind on my posts since I´m about four destinations away from my great sloth chase in Puerto Viejo.  After Puerto Viejo, Anika and I made our way to Bocas Del Toro, Panama.  We, along with these Canadian girls, Selenia and Sari, who we had met in Monteverde, took the 0830 bus since we had no idea how the border crossing will be.  The bus was really fun because the bus driver directed all of us foreigners with huge backpacks to the back of the bus as if we would make to much noise or take up space because of all of our stuff.  This guy, Cameron, came on the bus carrying this HUGE, prickly foreign-looking papaya thing.  Selenia and Sari, who visit the local fruiteria in each destination, where mystified by this large prickly thing they had yet to come across.  Coincidentally, Cameron’s uncle owned the botanical garden that was closed during the great sloth chase.  While I had to endure a bumpy, dusty bike ride with a sore bum to only be greeted by the colorful close sign on the gate, Cameron got to be like Mowgli running around his uncle’s garden that has all these rare Asian trees bearing even rarer fruits of the world.  I was a wee bit jealous.  The bus ride was about an hour and a half and then we crossed into Panama over this scary bridge.  I love bridges, I love heights, but this bridge had me so nervous because it´s pretty much a rail (likely dates older than the Alaska Rail and looked as if there was no longer a  maintenance fund) with wooden planks for you to walk across.  There were areas with no rail and/or spaces where you could look directly down below.  There was sort of a foot path along the edge, but the sheet metal was so rusted it looked and felt so fragile under the weight of myself and my pack as if it would crumble away on a seconds notice.  At one point, a semi truck crossed over and we were all packed like sardines into one little area with nowhere to go, anxiously waiting for the semi to rumble on pass us so we could get to relative safety.   I was just so worried I would trip over one of the nails and with the weight of my pack I would be over the edge.  If I was to fall, I kept imagining if I landed on my pack there may have been a chance for survival.  From the border we were forced had to buy a bus ticket out of the country for an $11 charge which was needed to get the stamp of approval for our Panama visa. Talk about a rip-off and a loss of money.  I can eat almost four good meals on $11!

From the border town we took a taxi to the port where we caught a water taxi to Bocas Del Toro.  Bocas Del Toro is an archipelago off the north east (Carribean) coast of Panama and some travel insiders are calling it the next Galapagos.  Bocas is so pretty and even though I have never been to Key West, it reminded me of Key West based on the pictures I have seen.

A few days later, I was looking through a Panama Real Estate magazine and they actually referred to Bocas as The Key West 30 years ago.  The architecture is brightly colored with greens, yellows, blues, and pinks. The main town was so bright and cheerful and all along the streets you could hear salsa music or someone playing beats on a drum.   We stayed at Mundo Taitu hostel which is ¨the¨party hostel of Bocas.  Mundo Taitu is owned by twenty-something American guys and they definitely know how to run a fun place. Every day there is happy hour with $.50 beers and they do theme nights a few times a week.  Everyone on Bocas migrates to the bar at some point of the evening and the place gets packed and noisy.  It was a cool place, but quite clique-ish too.  There was definitely a vibe of people never leaving or wanting to move forward with their trip.  The day after arriving, Anika and I went on an all day boat adventure that included snorkeling and beach time at Bocas´s Red Frog Beach.  So far, whether its been in Costa Rica or Panama, I still haven´t found the one beach that has taken my breath away, but I´m on the quest to find it.  Our 9 hour boat trip only cost $15 so that was sweet.  I got a bit freaked out during snorkeling because everywhere I looked there were big, small, and schools of  man-o-wars in the water.  I got stung once when I was a kid and getting stung is a once a lifetime event I did not want to repeat so needless to say I didn’t stay in the water for long.  There was actually a girl on our boat who did get stung, but the boat captain said they were not dangerous.  Dangerous no, but a pain of an annoyance–yes!  Between the snorkeling and the beach, we stopped at a rest stop to use the bathroom and eat lunch.  The food was super expensive so I went to the little grocer to buy a pack of Pringles to snack on and I could hear Selena playing on the radio.  It made me smile thinking after all these years, even in Panama, they are still playing Selena.  Red Frog beach was nice, just nice, but the current was really strong and the waves were so powerful I almost lost my bathing suit bottoms a few times over.  Getting knocked over by the waves was quite good fun and the water felt so good.

I loved Panama!  Panama is so cheap, they use the dollar, and almost everyone speaks English. Yet, it hasn’t become commercialized nor does it feel like America at all.  There is a distinct Panamanian flavor with a lot of salsa picante and salsa music lingering in the air.  Panamanians proudly display their country flags on everything and even the most beat up of bikes has a license plate.  I got a little sun-burned on our 9 hour boat adventure so the next day I was a bit restless and had no idea what I should do.  Anika had a surf lesson booked, but I didn´t want to be out in the sun or in the water for fear I would get even more burned.  Plus, the water taxi just dumps you out in the water for surfing.  There is no shore to hang out in if you get beat up by the waves or the reef and I wasn’t about to be a little bobble head in the water.  So instead,  I wanted to rent a bike to ride to Bocas Del Drago which was 15km one way and was said to be a beautiful, hilly ride.  However, the bike rental place tried to pull a fast one on me about my passport and I wasn´t having it.  I went to other bike shops, but no one else had as nice of bikes with gears.  I met up with this Panamanian guy, Gustavo, who tried to talk reason with the first bike shop, but they would not back down.  With the road being super hilly I needed something a bit more than just the one speed, rusty beach cruisers.

When Anika returned, she proclaimed herself to be “el stupido” because her lesson was actually a Panamanian attempt for a date!  Gustavo’s brother, Raul, told Anika for $10 she would get the lesson and the board rental.  Since the hostel rents boards for $15, she thought it was a really good deal.  However, Raul takes her on the water taxi and has no board.  They get in the water to learn “techniques” without a board, but Raul was quick to turn the surfing lesson into a lets salsa dance and will you allow me to give you a massage.  Mentioning of the massage was Anika’s aha moment that she was not on a lesson, but a cheap attempt (or expensive if you’re Anika) for a date.  The date idea was sealed when Raul announced “Panamanian men make great sex!”  My sweet and a bit naive Forman was horrified.  I couldn’t help but laugh because she paid $10 to go out on a date!  Although, if I would have run into the little scam artist, I would’ve gotten all travel mama on his ass  for duping her because Anika really wanted to do a surf lesson.  Luckily, she had me to use as a way out saying I was bored and all alone in the hostel, which sadly, was a true and accurate statement.

That night was the Halloween party and since I had a bandana and thanks to Anika, big hoop earrings, I decided to go for the easy costume option of a pirate.  Mind you my bandana was purple and the hoop earrings were the colors of the rainbow so I could have very well been a gay pirate.  Thanks to Google and my mad craft skills, I became the hero of the moment for this Australian girl, Jo, when I made her a Peter Pan hat to go with her costume.  I won her adoration and a lollipop.  The hostel’s bar was way too small for the party and very soon it was so miserably hot and the beer was not cold.  Urgh.  The party was good fun, but I felt like I had no place to go because there was literally no place to go.  I sat outside on the curb for a while chatting and drinking until the Tourism police came and made us go back in the oven hostel.  I called it an early night.  Plus, I needed to pack and Anika and I planned to leave early the next morning to make our way to the Pacific coast.

The next morning we set off for David, which is the second largest city in Panama.  David is also home to many North American retired expats who live out the rest of their years in cheap comfort.  The buses and roads in Panama are much nicer than what I’ve experienced in Costa Rica.  The buses are actually large minivans that don’t fit more than 30 and if the driver chooses there is a/c.  Oh sweet, a/c!  The ride to David had hundreds of s curves with blind spots and there were times I wondered how did the driver know he could take a curve while driving on the wrong side of the road.  Did he have a sixth sense about on coming traffic?  I had to close my eyes most of the time, but while they were opened, the country side was absolutely beautiful and similar to Costa Rica.    We got to David really early and despite checking into a hostel and eating at a satisfying Lebanese restaurant we decided to continue on and cross the border so we could make it to Dominical in two days versus three.

Your India blogs have me in stitches.  I know you are one of the most  funny people I know, but damn it’s hysterical reading.  Love it, love you. Miss you mucho, chica! Anika says hola and she loves your blog updates as much as me.

Ness

Hampered by Hampi

Dear Ness,

Shanti, Shanti (peace, peace).  I have been at the mercy of Hampi’s electricity/internet/phone line connection problems for the better part of 5 days now.  The last 3 days nothing.  Before that, I was able to get on 5-10 minutes at a time, then off-line, then back on, then the lights go out, then wait, back on, write some more, off-line–you get the idea.  I don’t know the reason for the internet connection problems but it doesn’t really matter when there is no power to turn the computer on.  I didn’t realize at first that Hampi shares it’s electricity with another neighboring village or two.  This means for blocks of hours throughout the day and night, Hampi is without.  You would think there would be a specific schedule to this, as in, the same hours of the day every day so one could plan their day accordingly, but this just isn’t so.  On top of that, there was also an accident involving a truck and a main electrical pole.  If you are lucky, some guest houses have back up generators but oftentimes deem the internet cafe’ 2 computers from the 90’s as non-essential.  How uncivilized.  At any rate, I am loving the updates from Costa Rica!  Congratulations on your sloth sighting!  The pictures add so much to the blog.  I really get a sense of what’s going on and how beautiful it is.   I have not been able to upload any pictures and I am so frustrated because I have some really good ones.  I have a mini USB to regular USB cord that I bought here in India but not one computer has recognized my camera.  I don’t know if my cord is just shit, the computers are just shit or it’s a combination of the two. 

If you let it get to you, India could possibly be the most frustrating, ridiculously paradoxical place on the planet.  Of course, mishaps and differences  of cultures, etc…while travelling is part of the adventure and fun of it all.  I understand this.  But sometimes I am truly exhausted just from trying to get from point A to point B.   For example, to get out of Hampi you have to take a local bus to Hospet, the next biggest town, and then take another bus to your destination but there is no stand to buy a ticket.  Nor any information window/display/what have you of any kind.  You kind of have to know where you are going and what time the bus is and you just have to pay on the bus.  So trying to find out any information about the local bus out of Hospet in Hampi was damn near impossible.  I asked 5 different people, locals mind you (to include 2 different travel agents), what time the buses left.  5 different answers.  So I decided to splurge (double the price from 5 dollars to 10 dollars) on the “Deluxe Tourist Sleeper” bus from Hospet to Gokarna scheduled to leave 6:30 PM and arriving Gokarna at 5 AM.  I met an awesome German/Tunisian girl, Sarah, in Hampi, also traveling by herself who was up for the trip and we set off together to catch the rustbucket death trap on wheels deluxe sleeper.  Do you remember how in Korea stores would use advertising jargon just because it sounded or looked cool?  Like the store that had “24 HOURS” written on the window but was always closed.  India does the same shit!  I bought some mosquito repellent cream that basically promises an invisible shield able to dissolve mosquitos on contact.  Bullshit.  Anyway, off on a tangent but you get the picture–deluxe bus my ass.  We thought we had scored by getting the last two tickets for the overnighter to Gokarna until we realized this meant the back of the bus over the wheel axle where you feel every single little pebble and pothole for God Shiva knows how many kilometers.  The sleeper area is a chair that lays all the way back and clicks into place and a privacy curtain should you be foolish enough to try and sleep.  Sarah’s chair didn’t click and actually acted more like a trampoline catapulting her into the air several times after a gigantic pothole.   I though she might break her nose or suffer a concussion from hitting the roof of the sleeper above us.  Of course, I was concerned but it was funny as hell too and the more I tried not to laugh, the harder I had the giggles.  I seriously contemplated hitting up Tom, the British chap I met in Hampi also on our bus, holding a stash of Valium but decided against it.  You know I don’t do/have never done drugs so you can only imagine the deluxeness of this bus ride.  1 hour into the trip we broke down.  There was some sort of fuel pump problem but much to the driver/mechanic’s credit with a mini torch and minimal tools, we were up and running in a little over an hour.   Around 4 AM Sarah and I were dumped off at  some town trucker stop called Ankola 25 KM away from our intended destination of Gokarna.  Sarah and I, aside from the men sleeping on the floor in front of the hotel brothel, were alone with (for the fucking first time in India) not a taxi cab/rickshaw driver in sight.  After 5 minutes of terrifying myself with thoughts of getting gang-raped by Indian trucker men, Sarah and I just put on a brave face and waited for a rickshaw.  Of course, we had to pay a ridiculous amount of money (well, ridiculous by Indian backpacker standards–really I think it was a 10 dollar split) by the time one arrived around 5:30.  We did have a nice chai stop on the way to the edge of Gokarna after our driver informed us he hadn’t slept all night and almost killed us.  Very good chai actually.  After that, a further hike of 5 KM from Gokarna to Kudle Beach.  On the way, we met the unofficial town guide, Vishnu, who chaperoned us all over Gokarna.  We stopped at a beautiful ashram, passed the town bath and got a tour of a temple in a cave.  Such a wealth of a knowledge, and so cute with his broken English and weighing about 100 lbs, Vishnu even showed us a short cut through the jungle to a really cool place to stay called Namaste Yoga Farm.  Yeah, he asked for a donation, supposedly for some kids program at the ashram but I choose to believe it was for the kids and a little bit goes such a long way here so I gave him 100 rupees.  Nothing is for free here in India.  Nothing.

I have read that people often explain India as an assault to the senses.  I can see why.  But I will have to explain further in another letter.  How the hell are you posting all the time anyway?  Don’t tell me you have been getting Wi-Fi?!?  I can’t even remember what a fast computer feels like.  Do you remember dial-up?  I wish I could stay here and write for another 2 hours.  I have so much to still fill you in on and people I’ve met, etc…I miss you a lot and wish I was able to have some Central American fun con tu y Anika.  I really hope we can meet up in Thailand at some point. 

Namaste’

lil sweaty frustrated bobe

The Wild Sloth Chase

I was on a quest to find a sloth because you requested a sighting with picture.  When we were in Tortuguero, the guides said it was very hard to see them, but we might get lucky.  Similar to the kind of luck one has  seeing a grizzly bear from the Alaskan train–darn wildlife.  However, I was on a mission and I was going to find a damn sloth because quite honestly I had no idea what one was or looked-like.  I thought a sloth was more similar to an anteater, not some slow-moving, big monkey.  I had read in Lonely Planet (LP) about an awesome botanical garden that was just overrun with sloths and had amazing fruit for taste-testing and juice-making.  Brilliant!  Sounds like an awesome time–fresh fruit and sloths!  The day before, when Anika and I rode our bikes to beach bum in Punta Uva, we rode right by a botanical garden which had the most beautiful landscaped entrance.  So the next day, Anika and I rode bikes and headed out to the garden. However, we  could not find the damn place.  It blew my mind that I saw it coming and going yesterday and I could not find it–the very next day!  We rode our bikes practically into Punta Uva (about 5-8 km from Puento Viejo) and I stopped to ask directions and was told we passed it by a klick.  We turned around and headed back and still could not find it.  By this time, it is super hot out, it’s after one, and Anika must stop and have her first cigarette of the day (It’s now almost 6 pm, Panama time and she hasn’t smoked yet for today.)  While we were taking a break, this guy, Todd, we had met the night before rode by and informed us we were going in the wrong direction.  Damn it!  We got our tender bums back on the rusty bikes to ride back in to town.  Anika suggested we eat at Veronica’s place which we had seen a flyer for a couple of days earlier.  Veronica’s place is Vegan/Vegetarian/Macrobiotic and it was a gem.  I loved it.

http://www.greencoast.com/area-information/cuisine-scene/local-food/veronicas

I had the soy meatball (of course I would order some fake meatballs) and it was delicious.  Veronica’s closed at 4 pm so it was a mixed blessing to not find the botanical garden on the south side of the town. After we had a yummy tummy, we headed to the botanical garden that was actually the one highlighted in LP.  There were bright painted signs everywhere with directions and we found it in no time.  However, the garden was closed.  I was crushed.  By now we’ve been searching in vain to get to a botanical garden for a possible sloth sighting for hours now and it was hot.  Really hot.  Plus, my bum was tender from all the bumps in the road.  The word road is an understatement, it was more like a dump truck unloaded a ton of rocks and they were flattened out to make a road, but shifted with wear and is now nothing but huge potholes.  Fun stuff!  Really…

Once again, we headed back into town and went to the hostel to figure out what to do next.  Anika must have felt sorry because she asked one of the hostel workers where we could find sloths and he told us of a trail right behind salsa brava which is the big surf swell in Puerto Viejo. For what felt like the 100th time, we set out in search for the sloth.  The wooded trail along the water was so shaded and for the first time I felt somewhat cool and comfortable instead of sweating out my entire 2 liter water intake.  I’m walking really, really slow along the path looking up, looking down, looking right, and looking left.  I’m going to find a sloth.  I must not fail what had now become my own holy grail of missions.  When about 10 minutes into the walk I notice a medium size, furry ball hanging from a tree branch.  I wonder, is this a sloth?  I take out my camera to zoom in and snap a picture.  Yes, I can make out legs.  It definitely is not a bird’s nest, but is it a sloth?  Anika and I ponder and wonder and really have no idea because it isn’t moving.  If it is a sloth, they truly are lazy!  We continue on walking when Anika bumps into a girl who knows what a sloth in a tree looks like.  She looks up and isn’t sure, but when I show her my picture she validated that it was indeed a sloth.  Score!!!!  She then tells us of a place where she saw a bunch of sloths not too long ago. We go there, and no luck.  I think I’m seeing a sloth, but I’m still not happy and cannot say for certain that my mission is complete.  I saw one and now have a picture, but it just looks like a furry ball.  A furry brown ball.  We ran into a Costa Rica family and they said oh it’s a bird nest, but when I showed them my zoomed in picture, they determine it is a sloth too.  I saw a sloth…a still, sleeping, furry brown balled  sloth, but a sloth no less.  The proof is in the picture.

Later on, when Anika and I shared our story of the Wild Sloth Chase, we were told over and over again how there’s a sloth conservation not too far from Puerto Viejo that cares for baby sloths who are unable to live in the wild due to circumstance.  Oh darn, maybe next time.

I hope you had/have better luck in India.

Dear Bobe’

I know you’ve got online access because you are FBing so where’s the blog on how wonderfully amazing of a time you are having enjoying forbidden beers in dry Hampi and having monkeys attempting to steal your purse at a temple?

Plus, who is this Martin that you promised to tell me about and have left me hanging for days now?  I know it’s hard to write and the blog entries can be quite time-consuming, but you can write a little each time you are online and save it in draft.  Just a little thought…

Besos…

Nessie

The Blog With Too Many Titles

Chapter one – I’m on a boat, MF.

On Friday, Anika and I left Monteverde, not kicking and screaming nor deliberately missing the 0630 bus for San Jose, but it was a sad moment to leave a very special place.  The bus ride was uneventful, no scary toothless sermon preacher this time, and traffic must have been light because we were in San Jose earlier than expected.  We had a long day ahead of us because we were attempting to get to Tortuguero, which is one of Costa Rica’s National Parks that is made up of miles and miles of canals on the Caribbean side.  According to LP, getting to Tortuguero independently is not impossible, but difficult at best.  Well, Anika and I can attest that travel did call for a long day, but what an amazing adventure it was.  First off, we got scammed!  When we got off the bus from Monteverde, those cut-throat taxi drivers were just waiting for fresh bait.  Anika and I went with one taxi driver who we told to go to the Caribbean bus terminal for Cariari.  He asked if we were going to Tortuguero and when we said yes, he gave us this long story of how we won’t make the boat to Tortuguero because it leaves at two and we will miss it if we take the bus.  It’s best for him to take us and if we take the bus and get stuck in Cariari, it’s too dangerous for gringa girls.  Blah, blah, BLAH.  He promised with his services we will be there by one and make the bus and connecting boat at two.  Well, he did get us to Cariari by one, but he dropped us off at the central terminal and would not drive a further 400 meters to the terminal for La Pavona which was where we needed to go in order to catch the bus/boat.  To top it off, the bus didn’t leave until three and you buy your boat ticket in conjunction with the bus ticket.  So Max Martinez, whose business card claims responsibility, security, and honesty is a BIG FAT LIAR and MASTER MANIPULATOR of gringas who wake up at the crack of dawn and are too tired to put up a fight.  So since Max the Manipulator got us to Cariari at one as guaranteed, we had two hours to kill at the bus station.  Boring.  Anika and I drank a couple of Fantas, she did get to purchase a pack of smokes for only 800 colones which is just a little over a dollar so that was great for her.  Our restoration in humanity was met by all the people at the bus station who were making sure we also had a boat ticket to Tortuguero.  They were so sweet and were making sure the two gringas carrying big backpacks knew what they were doing.  The bus trip from Cariari to La Pavona was the most beautiful bus trip I’ve ever taken in my life.  We bumped and bounced through miles and miles of banana trees, watermelon patches, and corn fields.  We even stopped so people could get off and buy bushels and bushels of bananas.

The drive was so amazing that Anika and I forgot all about our anger from being scammed and were just in awe of the landscape which was so different from what we’ve just seen within the Monteverde/San Jose area of Costa Rica.  The boat ride was brilliant as well and although we saw no alligators, Anika was still thrilled to proclaim “I’m on a boat, MF!”  We got into the village of Tortuguero around 1800 which means it was pitch black and we have no idea where to go. Luckily, there was a cute little map right at the dock and we soon realized all of the village can be walked in under 15 minutes.  We stayed at another gem of a hostel called La Casonas which is a family run business that also includes a wonderful restaurant.  http://www.tortuguerovillage.com/casona/english/lodging.html  Our room was super cute and included mosquito nets (there is no a/c nor are there window panes in Tortuguero) which made Anika and I feel like we were little girls sleeping under a canopy bed.  Here I am relaxing in a hammock right outside our room after the 12 hour crazy bus, taxi, bus, boat ordeal.

The owner and her son, David, (pronounced the Spanish way — Da-Veed and who Anika was slightly crushing on) were marvelous and so hospitable.  I loved it there!  There’s nothing like reflecting on this one hostel I stayed at in CR where the owner and her son shared a joint together and invited us to hang out on their private porch.  David was a cutie, but the more he smoked the harder it was to understand his English and the more he said “For Example…” which got kind of tiresome.  Anika and I ate at an amazing place called Buddha Cafe and yes, Buddha accepts all major credit cards even in remote marsh lands of Costa Rica. Buddha Cafe also had tasty Sangrias.

Chapter 2 – Travel Mama

The next morning we woke up super early to do a 0530 canoe tour through Tortuguero National Park.  The canoe trip was wonderful and we weaved and made our way through so many different water trails that varied between being really wide or really narrow.

Our guide had an uncanny sense for wildlife and could spot a monkey or a toucan from two miles away.  We saw a bunch of wildlife although I felt a little robbed with the Toucan since they were so far away and I can only tell it was a Toucan when he flew off because the beak was almost as big as the body itself.  We saw all three species of monkeys that home in Tortuguero and the best shot was of this Capuchine or white-face monkey.

We also saw a lot of birds like these “Feminist” birds or sluts as I like to call them.

My favorite picture of the day though goes to the eye of a baby Caiman which belongs to the alligator family.

Sorry chica, but I’ve had no luck finding a sloth.  I’ve been asking and looking out for one though.  After the boat ride, it was only 0830 and already SUPER hot.  I mean, the type of miserable humidity where you don’t even want to move your body because you’re afraid to raise your body temperature or make your clothes shift and stick to you in really awkward places.  In a joint effort, Anika and I locked ourselves out of our room and of course it was the one room that had no spare key.  I felt a little better about locking my stuff in the room knowing there was no spare key, but I felt super sorry for the chico who sweated and hammered his way to pry open the door.

After leisurely watching the locked key in the room debacle, it was time for me to truly take in a siesta before Anika and I hiked along the waterfront of the park.  Tortuguero means land of the turtles and/or turtle catcher so the park is home to hundreds of turtle nests.  There’s a big conservation effort to help/protect the turtles and the laid eggs so that they are able to properly hatch and move to the ocean when they are ready.  During one of our many conversations during the hike, Anika appointed me travel momma because I’m always prepared for the unknown (or thus far I’ve been prepared) and I’m full of useful (or less) information.  I immediately told her I didn’t like Travel Momma so she said I was Travel Guru which I like better.

Chapter 3 – This one Time…

This one time, when I was in Costa Rica, I went out really late, in the pouring rain, in pitch black darkness to wait for something to happen, but nothing did.  Fortunately, I did get to see something happen, but after over an hour of standing in the pouring rain in the pitch black darkness, I feared I would not get to see what I paid $15 dollars to see which was witnessing a turtle lay eggs, nest them, and then camouflage them from predators.  It was really amazing to watch so up close and in person. It was well worth me getting super soaked.

Anika and I are now in Puerto Viejo and all we plan to do is ride beach cruisers and get in lots of beach time.  We   meet these Canadian girls so that we can head to Bocas Del Toro, Panama for Halloween.  It’s been so nice having a travel buddy and I’m starting to hate pondering the thought that time is limited and there will be a time soon when I’m off on my own. I’m not too sure I want to be solo, but I’m willing to put myself out there.

Besos…

Ness

Costa Riiiiiiica

Bobe’ -

Here is me being dropped off at the airport and don’t I look super awake and excited for 0430?

I’m sitting here at George Bush International airport anxiously awaiting my flight to Miami and onward to San Jose, Costa Riiiiiiica.  While I was researching bus options out of CR for my next destination I stumbled upon a blurb which stated US citizens must have a roundtrip or onward ticket out of Costa Rica to enter without a visa.  Huh?  I don’t recall reading such a thing on the State Department website so I go back and I do see it there.  On another site, I read one must have a ticket OR $400 to show financial security to get out of CR.  I called the consulate because I did not want to get all the way to the airport to only be turned away or get to CR and be stuck like the Tom Hanks character in that movie Terminal.  The consulate though was no help. I got the idea I would be at the mercy of what ever immigration official I will have so it’ll be a crap shot at best. I tried seeing if I could reserve bus tickets online with no success so I purchased a ticket out of CR on 17 Nov for Guatemala.  It’ll give me a month, but I hate, I HATE, now having a CR timeline.  Urgh….  To rub salt in the situation, the AA ticket clerk didn’t even ask if I had a ticket out which according to the site they are suppose to do.

Michelle and Shawnie bought their Thailand tickets for 1 Feb and I plan on being there around the 20th.  Meeting up in Thailand would be AWESOME and Sri Lanka is definitely on my must do list.  However, you are completely disregarding the cruise.  Do I count you out?  I have not given up hope and I put the secret out there every day so I hope I get an email saying I got it.  The cruise is still three months out so there is hope.  I really, really want to do a cruise. For one, after roughing it, it’ll be a nice pleasant treat for the same price I’ve been paying to get cold water, bugs, and a lumpy bed night after night.  It’ll suck to work two seasons on the train and not enjoy the offered cruise perk.

Congrats on the Ashram.  Could Fred possibly send you a tent directly to the Ashram or contact them to see if one has been left behind?  I’m just not sure if camping is a regular activity in India so the procurement of one off of CL may be tricky.  What do you plan to do for the next month until your course starts? Is Fred extending his contract or will he be done come Feb?

ok…so the above was written at the airport and now I’m two days into Costa Rica.  I am soooo upset that I bought the plane ticket out of Costa Rica because the immigration official was like “Tania, you’ve been to Costa Rica before?”  Me, “No”.  Official, “How long do you want to stay?”  Um, I have a FREAKING CHOICE?  He didn’t ask me for any proof out of the country and my visa is stamped for 90 days.  URGH….  The only thing that makes me feel better is many, many people told me their airline forced them to purchase a ticket, but they too are really upset because not one official asked them for proof either.  Since I arrived in San Jose airport really early,  I had enough time to take the bus to town and then the bus to Monteverde to meet up with Anika.  The bus was…um fun.  I’m sure it’s not the craziness you’ve experienced in India, but this is the green season right now meaning it rains a lot.  So the bus ride was like what I’ve read about any crazy Central American bus ride on the windy, blind turn, honk your horn, potential land slide, bumpy (thank god for an empty bladder) roads.  I was so tired that I blissfully slept, i.e., kept my eyes close the whole time because opening up was too terrifying of an option.  The bus would randomly stop so people selling food or the gospel could come on.  The gospel dude was weird…he would change his voice as if he was being overcome by the spirit so I kept my eyes closed during his sermon too.  Then, he begged for money.  He gave me the creeps with his decently nice suit and no teeth.  After close to four hours on the bus, I suddenly realized I had no idea where the Pension Santa Elena was located and it was so dark outside.  However, never fear, it was a hop, skip, and a jump away from where the bus dropped us off.  When I got into the hostel, Anika, greeted me with a glass or wine.  Sweet!  I was so tired, but so excited to finally be able to unwind.  The day after I arrived, we did the canopy tour through the Santa Elena cloud forest.  There are two cloud forests in Monteverde, Santa Elena and Monteverde.  We choose the canopy zip line and suspension bridge tour.  The hostel receptionist completely hooked us up with student fare tickets.  Anika has her BYU id, but for me it was more of a wink, wink of course I’m a student.  By the way, I am completely jealous of Anika for having an id and me nada.  Student savings are wonderful and I hate when I have to pay almost double!  I wonder if I can find someone a business online that forges student id’s for budget travelers?  The zip line was super fun and much more fast pace than the two I did in Maui.  For one, in Maui you don’t break yourself, where here you had to reach back with your strong arm/hand and have hold of it in case you are signaled to break.  We did 13 zip lines and one tarzan swing which was a delightfully fun highlight.  What was so cool is that it rained (imagine, rain in the rainforest – ha) almost the entire time, but it made the experience that much more authentic as if we were seeing the cloud forest as nature intends for it to be. I would’ve been bummed if there were clear skies the entire time.

Today, Anika and I got up early to catch the 0730 bus up to the Monteverde cloud forest for a nice hike.  We missed the bus and decided to walk to the entrance instead.  The monteverde area is really hilly and there are some really steep areas.  It took us an hour and a half to walk there and it was a great hike. I could feel my hamstrings work the entire time and although it was rainy/misty out I still managed to break a sweat.  We had this dog follow us (there are so many stray dogs everywhere) and at first he was an annoyance, then he acted as our protector when we came across other dogs, and just as we were growing attach to the damn dog, he JUMPS on me and literally covers my entire side in mud (it was really raining, not the normal cloud mist that I call rain and locals are quick to correct me).  With that swift action (high maintenance stray got mad we had stopped walking to take a picture) he was back in our bad, annoyed graces. Not really, but kind of. Here’s a pic right when I loved him following us and being our protector.

Speaking of strays, my favorite part of the hostel is the front porch.  It’s a great place to hang out in and surf the internet and just people watch in general.  There are so many strays that also love this porch, but when certain trucks, loud muffler, emission test failing sounding truck drive by the dogs go bezerk, barking, and following the truck up the hill.  It’s small town good, clean entertainment at its finest.  So back to the cloud forest…it was so beautiful, wet, and muddy!!!!  We hiked around to a continental divide, but all we could see were clouds like this.

My favorite part of the hike was the suspension bridge.  I hate to say that this bridge was so much better than the 8 we crossed over yesterday in the Santa Elena cloud forest.  It was really bouncy and I loved it.  Sooooo amazingly serene.

I ♥ bridges and the one above rates as a personal top favorite.  After about four hours of hiking or actually more of getting turned around and doing a lot of backtracking along the trails, we opted for the bus down back into town.  By this time, I’m beyond wet, sweaty, muddy, and hungry.  However, a big shout out to the inventor of Gortex because my feet stayed so warm and dry despite stepping into the biggest deceptive looking mud pit.

Tonight, Anika and I are going to do a salsa lesson and afterwards go out with Shannon who along with her brother Ran owns the Pension Santa Elena.

http://www.pensionsantaelena.com/

This Pension is so cute and we are in brand new rooms with stone showers.  Ah…I fear my hostel accommodations are just going to go downhill from here.  This is the place where Eddie and Noel had their very own friendship at first sight experience.  ha ha ha.  They love those guys and have so many funny, crazy stories about them.  I love the area, but Anika and I must move on so tomorrow we are taking numerous buses to get to Tortuguero.  http://www.tortugueroinfo.com/index.html

My friend Sherry went here and raved about the boat trips through the canals.  Anika and I met a girl yesterday who volunteered at a turtle conservation there and they are hatching right now.  Did you know those turtles weigh over 400lbs?  Wowzers–that’s one heavy shell! After that we are going down to Puerto Viejo and maybe for Halloween we are going to Panama!  I told Anika she might as well add another country before she must head home.

Miss you!!!! Besos, chica bonita.  I love your India stories and Fred’s pictures are AMAZING.  He should start a portfolio to try and sell them to websites and/or publications.  He’s got an amazing eye!

Ness