November 30: Celebrating life

Today is a day for celebration. I sleep in. I listen to my favourite morning radio show, I head for a massage and my therapist gives me a 90 minute session for the price of 60 minutes--what decadence! I invite some of my favourite people to join me for dinner at Graceful for a Chinese vegetarian feast. Life is good!

November 29: Back to the non-mosquitoed world

It's 7 a.m. and I am having breakfast with Alfonso at Soda Tapia. I am glad that we did manage to connect. I met Alfonso 9 years ago while studying in London, England. Over a year of sharing most meals together, he had become almost like a little brother to me. We have been having trouble connecting these past few years, only managing once despite my many recent visits to London. He relates his current projects with enthusiasm. I am glad because Alfonso is one of the most curious and driven people I know. I did wonder if he would be happy returning from the high powered banking sector in London to life in Costa Rica.

Two Texan ladies took the shuttle with me to the airport. They commented on my accent. I think they were ignorant of the insinuations. I commented back regarding Texan accents. But I think they took the comment quite negatively--they didn’t talk to me after that! Well...tit for tat...though I didn’t mean to insinuate anything either!

It is so good to be home. I had spent last night with two Quebecoises and 2 Australians. We Canadians were expressing how we were looking forward to going home back to the cold--no more mosquitoes, no frizzy hair, and no profuse sweating. The Australians stared at us in shock. “Are you for real???” Real Canadian gals!

November 28: Having a swinging time in Costa Rica

I return to Taco Bar for a bit of swinging for breakfast. My favourite drink is usually water or a variation of water, but the batidos here have been so great that I’ve had litres of them. Taco Bar serves up a litre size--not quite living up to my moderation motto. I go for the soursop and guava combo.

My two hours prior to my bus’ departure is spent wave jumping--a simple, free, yet thoroughly enjoyable pastime. I pick up a freshly made coconut gelato for lunch. One should indulge a bit while on vacation...

I am disappointed. I was supposed to meet Alfonso and his new wife, Gaby, for dinner tonight. However, the Festival of Lights parade has caused havoc with the traffic and Alfonso is not able to reach me.

November 27: Barefoot on the beach

I couldn’t get out of town fast enough. The morning did not make Puntarenas any more inviting. One day left--I think I’ll check out the beaches. Travellers rave about Montezuma and the Guanacaste beaches but I really don’t have the time to travel so far afield. I head to Jaco, one of the original Costa Rican resort destinations whose reputation has suffered. Jaco turns out to be an okay beach community. Yes, I guess I am a bit spoiled, growing up on the pristine white sanded beaches of Jamaica.

My tasty vegie taco at Taco Bar made my meal in Puntarenas a distant memory. I invite June Gorman to join me as we channel our childhood in swings that function as seats. We click instantly. Conversations covered a wide range from her book on education, to Naomi Klein, and lots of other fascinating topics beyond weather discussions. I just hope that our paths will cross once again.

Should I do the Jaco thing and take a surfing lesson? I’m not averse to the idea, but the thought of balancing on a board sounded like work. Instead, I walk barefoot, revelling the feel of sand between my toes. A dog happily jumps waves and beginner surfers glide on wave crests as the sun sets.

November 26: How did I end up here???

Getting out of Ometepe and back to Costa Rica turns out to be a very long journey. After a breakfast of pancakes with fruit at Gloriana’s (named after Juan Carlos’ daughter), we packed up, checked out, and headed to the bus stop. It is 9 a.m. The bus finally arrives at 9:30 a.m. We are lucky to get seats for the long ride. We meander through most of the island before arriving at the ferry at 11:15 a.m.

Halfway through the trip, a young woman boards the bus holding a baby. A man stands to offer her a seat. A few minutes later, she makes her way to the rear of the bus sans baby. She sobs into her arm, leaning on the rear door. She glances back once, then continues her quiet sobbing. The bus slows down to a rolling stop a few minutes later. The woman opens the door and exits. Is this a woman abandoning her child? Or did she sell her baby? Or is she just a doting babysitter? Am I reading too much into this silent drama?

The lancha started off at 11:30 a.m., taking the full hour to reach the mainland. Disembarking at San Jorge and taking a taxi to Rivas takes another 30 minutes. At Rivas, we say our goodbyes as the 5 of us are heading to 3 destinations.

Luckily, my bus to the border leaves shortly. I get to the Nicaragua-Costa Rica border, which, despite recent deteriorating relations between the two countries, remains open and easy to navigate. At least I am not waiting 1 1/2 hours for a whole bus to go through customs today! I get to the Costa Rican side and onto a San Jose bound bus by 3 p.m. Night had already fallen by the time I get dropped off in Barranca, 3 1/2 hours later. This place is not even listed in the Lonely Planet! I feel very vulnerable, standing in the dark on my own by the side of a road in a place I know nothing about. With the help of a local couple, I manage to get to Puntarenas, the largest town in the area. Not much of an improvement: this town has no charm that I can detect. It is, like port towns the world over, infused with a good dose of sleaziness. I splurge on a better room, noting the nice older couple whose home seems to be this small inn.

I am hungry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast 11 hours ago. I passed a Chinese restaurant earlier, its sign proclaiming the best Chinese food in town. Only after people watching over dinner do I realize that all the other diners are close friends and kin to the establishment. If this is the best, I hate to visit the runners up. I wasn't asking for much--just a bowl of rice that is not three days old.

What a day! But then, if all goes well on a holiday, there are no good stories to tell.

November 25: Petroglyphs--the Central American version

I wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the concrete barrier. I really had not planned to be on Ometepe, but all Nicaraguan travellers’ itineraries seem to lead here. The other guests are packing up from Playa Santo Domingo,this forlorn looking place that fails to deliver the promised pristine beach. Marie and Nicolas are moving, but 3 of us decided to stay behind, the move being too much trouble for one night.

We hike up to the base of Volcan Maderas to walk among petroglyphs. No telling how old these ones are. Did a farmer carve them up last week just so that tourists will gawk at them instead of trampling through his farm?

The long walk to El Porvenir and back in the hot midday sun takes its toll. We rent a couple of bicycles and head to Ojo del Agua, a swimming hole whose waters are fed by a volcanic spring.

The owner of Gloriana’s Restaurant seemed desperate for customers. It cannot help that the only access to this local restaurant is via a beach that is nonexistent currently. Juan Carlos ushers us, his first customers of the night, through another restaurant to get into his. The sad-looking eatery is attached to a humble home, but his effusive personality and the lovingly prepared meal of vegetarian curry washed down with a tasty lemonade makes the experience a wonderful one. We promise to return for breakfast. Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the Americas, and Juan Carlos and his family certainly seem to be living at the bottom end of the scale. I just hope that the little bit of business that we provided will help the family to survive a little bit longer. Great food, friendly hosts, hard working couple--they deserve to succeed. I can only hope that the world they live in is a bit more forgiving.

November 24: The beach without a beach

Today's breakfast is at the chocolate museum. My body should be happy for the extra antioxidants coursing through my body from chocolate produced so close to its source. Chocolate banana crepe, chocolate pineapple crepe... I stopped myself at two.

After all my obsessing the day before, I did manage to scheme away and find my way back to Pueblos Blancos. Alas, the piece that I had my eyes on is no longer there! Lucky for the artists, who are able to sell their wares. I am not too disappointed because there are many more beautiful pieces. I had planned to buy one, maybe two, but walked away with 4 new pieces.

Today, I am travelling with Paula and Fabian, two young people from Spain and Germany respectively, who have spent most of this year teaching kids in Honduras. They are quite willing to help me live out my obsession and take the one hour shopping detour with me. We are heading to Ometepe, an island in Lake Nicaragua with two volcanoes, joined by an isthmus created by their lava flow.

We board a small lancha, sailing over rough waters towards Ometepe. The water level is high, swamping much of the lower parts of the island. It is hard to imagine that we are on a lake and not an angry sea. We arrive in Playa Santo Domingo, except that there is no playa. I swing in a hammock listening to the crashing waves as night falls.

November 23: Pottery obsession

I get a one hour massage first thing this morning, followed by breakfast at the Garden Cafe once again. I opt out of the hammock sleeping though, as I am heading out on a day tour.

I am happy to have Alanna and Babette join me. Our tour guide is Stefan, a French National who has spent much of his life in Costa Rica and Nicaragua. This is the first time he is running the tour so we are really his guinea pigs.

I am a sucker for nice pottery, and Pueblos Blancos is pottery heaven. I only buy a couple of pieces but have my eyes on a couple others. I am on a tour and so, being considerate to my fellow travellers, I pull myself away. We head to the Santa Catalina mirador (lookout), which lives up to its billing and more. We see Granada in the distance, the grand Lake Nicaragua, and smaller but pretty Lake Opoyo. Next stop is the famous Masaya market. However, I preferred the Pueblos Blancos shopping experience, visiting workshops and interacting with the artists themselves.

Last stop of the day is the Masaya Volcano. This was not on my must-do list but should have been. I gawk at the gaping hole extruding its sulphurous fumes. Parrots flit by. For some unknown reason to scientists, they have learned to adapt to a very toxic environment, nesting within the crater, which keeps them safe from predators who have not been able to survive the gas emissions.

We head home...all I can do is obsess about the pottery pieces that are not in my bag.

November 22: Impersonating a sloth

Photogenic Granada is even more so in the morning light. I wander down the street and catch part of mass in La Merced, one of the prettier churches around. A fruit seller is cutting up papaya. The prep seems pretty clean so I take a gamble, buying a small bag, hoping that Montezuma will not seek revenge.

I meet up with Alison, who is as pleasant at 7 a.m. as she is later in the day. Kayaking among the 365 Isletas in the early morning, watching herons and egrets flying by is such a pleasant way to start the day. I pass holiday homes of the rich, squatters' homes of the poor, a fortress, horses, and a beehive. After a pleasant couple of hours, we head back into town. At the end of breakfast at Garden Cafe, I said goodbye to Alison, and crawled into a hammock swinging nearby, promptly falling asleep for the next 1 1/2 hours. The closest I've come to encountering a sloth on this trip is acting like one! I was awakened rudely by a German tourist, who thought it was funny to prod me awake.

I snap out of my slothfulness in time. I visit the Chocolate Museum, which is more of an exhibit showing the process of chocolate making. Mi Museo is two doors away, filled with local pottery from archaelogical digs. I wander off looking for the legendary quesillos in town and check out the local market wares. I meet Babette and her daughter, Alanna, from Alberta at dinner and invited them to join me at the free concert at Casa de los Tres Mundos (This is a cultural centre whose portal dates from the 1500s). At times, this concert was more like karaoke, even including a young woman serving soft drinks. Nonetheless, it is always fun to catch a bit of local culture. We do as the locals do and walk out halfway through the concert. There is an upper limit to a healthy daily dose of culture intake. As I always say...moderation is key.

November 21: To the Granada of the New World

The 3:45 a.m. start and the 300 m walk down a rocky path to the bus station in the dark was not as bad as I had thought it would be. The bus arrived shortly. I find a seat and promptly fall asleep, awakening briefly with the extreme turns and bumps along the way, just long enough to glance at the stunning scenery passing by--foliage of varying shades of green. The roads leading to and from Monteverde are seldom paved--purposefully so. The inhabitants, to minimize the impact of tourist traffic on this ecologically significant site, request that roads remain unpaved.

I awaken just in time to get off at La Irma, the crossroads with the Interamericana, the highway that threads together countries from Mexico to Chile. I catch the Transnica bus, bound for Nicaragua. Border crossings by bus is tedious: bus searches and mass inspections. This process took 1 1/2 hours.

By the time I reached Granada, I was out of sorts--feeling dopey, nauseated from the exhaust fumes, and dehydrated in the heat. I planned to splurge and stay at a nice place. The guidebook had described a modern place with minimalist style, but the yellow walls, fluorescent lighting, and lack of windows were a real turn-off. Instead, I found a dorm bed in a very clean spacious brightly lit room.

I wander into the town centre. Granada, like its namesake in Spain, was built to be a jewel in the Spanish colonial empire. However, William Walker, the American filibuster, burnt a good part of it to the ground. The city was rebuilt, following the original city plan. Today, the city is filled with charming red-tiled buildings enclosing flower-filled courtyards.

I walk into Imagine Restaurant, not because I was hungry, but because I was too tired to continue. The tables were full, but Alison from Florida offered to share her table. Her positive attitude was just the antidote I needed for my current mood misalignment. Alison had just completed a surfing course and celebrated her half century mark while surfing. She invites me to kayak with her first thing tomorrow morning, which fits into my plans perfectly.

We split Kevin´s creation: mango bread topped with ice cream and chocolate, a concoction that was recently featured in Travel & Leisure--just the perfect food to put an upswing to my mood.

November 20: Clouds vs Rain

What is a cloud forest anyway? I imagine puffy clouds atop sturdy tree trunks. It turns out a cloud forest is very much like a rain forest. In certain spots on Earth, the air currents meet mountains creating ideal spots for clouds to congregate, creating cloud forests. I witness the clouds rolling in, blanketing a clear view within a minute.

I sign up for the early morning guided walk in Monteverde Cloud Forest reserve. This is one of the first cloud forest protected sites in the world and continues to be one of the most significant cloud forests. I had a few minutes to spare before my guided walk, so popped over to the hummingbird gallery. These birds zip by at lightning speed, so do appreciate the non-blurry photo that I managed to get for you. Our guide, Eduardo is friendly and talkative. Though the fauna was pretty spare this morning, the walk through the shrouded forest was memorable for its ambiance. We see a walking stick, an insect that looks like a small twig. However, we did see one thing that made the whole trek worth its while and more. WE SAW A QUETZAL!!!!! This bird--resplendent is part of its name-- is rarely spotted, and is even rarer in the current season.

The wait for the next bus back to town would be a while, so I bummed a ride from the 3 German guys on my walking tour. I stop off at Stella´s bakery, a charming spot, perfect for a midmorning brunch and cake.

I walk back to Santa Elena, enjoying the stunning vistas of the Eternal Forest of Children and the distant gulf and Pacific Ocean. Remember coming across children raising funds for rainforests? Well, this is what they bought: 22,500 hectares of pristine rain forest, most of which is protected from human intervention and tourists. I walk through the clouds, an experience likened to walking through a perpetual rain mist.