Two Little Expats

Friday, March 15, 2013

This Time I Really Thought We Were Going to David

While waiting to board a bus to take us to David, we asked the ticket salesman if he knew of any interesting places in the mountains on the way to David. Several times he mentioned a good hotel called "Los Tenfoon", or something like that. Odd name, but whatever.

Jeff thought the place sounded pretty cool, and the bus driver's assistant agreed that Las Tenfoon was just right for us. That was enough to seal the deal. Even though we couldn't find Las Tenfoon on any map or any travel book, we insisted they drop us off there, por favor.

The bus drove as off we stood by the roadside with our luggage - and with barely a clue.

Before us was this sign: "Lost and Found Hostel ". Oh! now we understand. No wonder our "guides" couldn't spell Las Tenfoon!! It was actually English.

It was a steep 15 minute walk up the jungled mountain to the lodge. Our Sherpa was an 80 year old deaf man who was as fit as a fiddle and told long stories with multiple punchlines, pausing to laugh happily at each one. All except his story about the Noriega years.

At 4000 feet in the mountains we had rain, mist, high winds, and enough cool air that 2 wool blankets were needed. Later in the clear night air the fireflies were enchanting and the stars looked as close as I have ever seen them.

This stop was just one night, then on the road again. To David at last!! Where we will transfer buses and head way out east to the Veraguas region. Stay tuned. We have big hopes for the next stop.

Our worldly possessions in a roadside heap.

Colorful directions up the trail.

Rest stops help make a happy day.

Ignacio is a very fit 80 year old with a nonstop sense of humor.

The mysterious Hostel "Las Tenfoon" has been located.

The dining room has a territorial view west towards Volcan Baru and Costa Rica.

We are about 4000 feet elevation at the hostel. The tallest mountains in the Cordillera are about 11,000 feet.

An international band of 20 somethings operate and populate the mountain hostel.

The vibe is alternative psychodelic sci-fi.

Beats formica.

Curious white faced monkeys swing by the hostel to have a closer look at us.

A note from Rocky, the camp Kinkajou.

There is really nothing better than a creamy papaya batido.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

To David, Panama? Maybe later . . .

Well . . . eventually, maybe.

Heading east from Puerto Viejo, Jeff changed his mind, voting now to cross the border into Panama and then head out to Bocas del Toro - just for a day or two.

So in the sweltering midday sun we found ourselves trudging over the Costa Rica - Panama border crossing, which is a decrepit railroad bridge over the Sixaola River. Once over, we waited for the next bus by lunching in the muddy, musty shade of the border town's general store. Between us we polished off a petite can of sardines, some wheat bread, and a bottle of water. All while dripping sweat and laughing about our luxurious, enviable adventure.

The water taxi ride out to Bocas crossed a vast bay at top speed and scooted between exotic mangrove islands. So refreshing, just exactly what we needed.

Bocas? Well for me Bocas Town presents itself as a somewhat endearing tourist spot with brightly painted older buildings, tons of tourists, very few cars and little, inexpensive water taxis to deliver people out to a long list of nearby islands. The vast majority of the traffic in the streets is pedestrians and bicycles. Makes sense for life on an island in a coral atoll. Sweet.

A load of desks being chased by a sweater ghost.

Walking the plank to Panama. Bonus: Peek a boo views of the Sixaola River.

Welcome to Panama.

Heading out to Bocas Town.

Everyone has an ocean view. Yep, those are outhouses on the docks over the water.

Splish splash. Zoom zoom.

OK I'll go for the easy one. It was a hair raising voyage.

Boats are a way of life in Bocas Town.

Used to be some innocent mangroves and shrimp along this shore.

Enjoying the beach.

Proof: the shoes are off.

Pretty dang tropical.

Pretty dang relaxing.

Junior gets first lesson about beach fun.

The sauce was very hot. The food was good.

The restaurant is a dock with a roof.

An actual Gurgel auto. They were manufactured in Brazil between 1969 and 1994.

Personally, I wouldn't want to live on a hot, rainy Caribbean Island - but a two night stay was great!

Pack it up!!

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Dream "Reality" vs. Feet On The Street Reality

"A world become one
Salads and sun
Only a fool would say that."
Donald Fagan

Dreaming of endless travel in exotic lands with sunny beaches and outgoing friendly people is exactly that: dreaming.

It's a really good thing we're not naive travelers. We're rough and tumble luggage-draggers, with years of experience in Central & South America.

The past 2 weeks we've spent on the Caribbean Coast of Costa Rica: Puerto Viejo de Sarapiqui, Cahuita, Bribri, and Puerto Viejo de Talamanca.

Yes, the beaches of the Caribbean Coast are lined with fruit-laden coconut palms and the dense jungle full of luscious, exotic plants, fruits and flowers grows right down to the waves washing on the shore. And within the warm jungle greenery are howler monkeys, geckos, toucans, raucous birds, Jesus lizards, colorful (and sometimes poisonous) frogs.

Our dream has come true: The warm weather never stops, day or night. But it seems that the rain never stops either. Most nights involve rain. Sometimes lots of it, often continuing into the mid-morning. Remember, this is not Seattle drizzle, it's tropical rain. But it stops at some point in the day, usually remaining densely cloudy the rest of the day. The dirt roads never completely de-puddle and walking around involves a great deal of muddy pant legs and shoes. It's all part of the dream.

We love the lively Rasta-Caribbean vibe happening here, and the fact that Spanish is not necessary at all. Long ago English speaking Jamaicans landed on this coast and their descendants still make it their home. Unfortunately they didn't have a choice. The Costa Rican government wouldn't let them travel inland - until that policy was reversed around 1950. However by that time the former Jamaicans didn't want to leave here. And around 10 years ago, when the world of tourism found this lazy little corner of the world, living off the fish in the sea and the fruits of the jungle, tourists were fully enchanted with taking a bite of paradise for themselves.

Now the area is FLOODED with tourists from all over the world. We never know what language to use in initiating a conversation. Today I heard more German spoken than English, Spanish, or French, the dominant languages. Interestingly, the version of English that the locals speak is often unintelligible. I'm told that many of the locals that were here have left for quieter, more peaceful grounds by now.

And it seems that the government has never fully adopted this part of Costa Rica, leaving many cities with dirt streets and neglecting garbage collection for WAY too long. (It hasn't been picked up for at least 1.5 weeks so far.)

Mosquito nets are standard fare in hotels. Prices are unthinkably high and unaffordable. The locals do what they can to earn a living off the tourism, forgetting fishing, gardening, and previous technical skills. Unlike the rest of Costa Rica, the tap water is NOT drinkable and the lettuce should not be consumed.

This is what's left of paradise. Though the tourists don't seem to mind.

All this said, we did have a great time, especially working with Art Donnelly of Seachar in making biochar stoves. We hung out for days on end at an organic cacao growing co-op in Bribri, an indigenous area. And we attended a biochar workshop at Finca La Isla Botanical Garden and learned new, more effective horticultural applications for biochar. We're not fully armed yet but we're developing an arsenal.

Leaving tomorrow morning. Next stop: possibly David, Panama by nightfall - unless we stumble into some other dream.