Friday, December 11, 2009
Good byes
And 4 months flashed before the eyes, those that were near have dispersed like fireworks into their pathes we call life. New pages, chapters, novels and a moral to the story. Stay attuned for the moment. In the last couple days seeing the people prepare for departure and me feeling drastic change in the routine, it seems it can be very easy to take for granted the inner beauty of people and the location we are in. If only we were better listeners to our consciousness' and could be ever appreciative. Getting perspective is important to persue. And writing this recollection at 2:51 is producing a strange form of phyisical deja vu. But the Fall '09 USAC student body has split. Off to Nicaragua with my best mate, and some solid bonding time with the fam in Costa Rica.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Cerro Chirripo excursion
Immidiately after class on wednesday (before Thanksgiving) I set out with 3 friends (All USAC students Drake, Emily and her boyfriend Michael) to the highest point in Costa Rica, the second highest mountain in Central America. We bussed along the pacific cost through Jacó, Quepos, Manuel Antonio, Domical and inland to San Isidrio del General. From there a metropolitan agricultual center we slept and arose at 4ish to bus to San Gerardo de Rivas. I grabbed a baguette for less than 50 cents and carboloaded.
Cerro Chirripó 12050 ft- the eternal waters. (should be a synonym for the never ending trail, eternal fatigue). It totaled out to be 46km in two days, 14.5km from trailhead to base camp, 3am rise 5.5km summit bid to sunrise, nearly 20 hours of 16,000 feet accent and descent, fairly decent. A test of wits to say the least.
If your wondering where I learned how to do math, when we arrived we had to hike 3km from the closest town to the base of the trailhead. We had heavy packs (25-40 lbs) and the few steps from the ranger station seemed too tedious and started a burn that would be sustained for many, many hours. I used my spanish communication skills and stepped into a hotel and conversed to a local (Francisco - a local heroe mountain runner, and extremely kind with his words) and stored some of our unnecessary gear in his hotel establishment for a dollar or so.
We started our trek around 7:30 am, the rise was slow and steady and horses and cows scattered the farmland that was touching the parkland. It was a bright day in San Gerardo and we could see the small town, its coffee farms and bannana farms. The first kilometer was long but I was antsy to get high on the mountain and very excited to be not at near sea level. So I wasn't as shocked like my team by the sluggish arrival of the 1km sign.
The hike later turned into a never ending accent, and we later realized that the lonely planet had miscalculated and underestimate the hiking distances the to the peak and basecamp crestones. This didn't explicitly affect out moral as we stopped and talked to some people desending. The natural beauty and spirit kept me focused, and I knew that somewhere the peak was awaiting another visit from a sentient bieng. A lot of water consumption helped with the altitude gain from the where 4,900 ft the trailhead started at. The hike soon turned into a biology and ecosystems field study. Eccentric sounds of birds and change of plant life gave the trail character and helped us feel as though we were making progress to the unseen "cumbre" or peak that had been hidden by cloud cover. The clear skies in the lower parts of the mountain were eventually were enveloped in the cloud that was produced from the transpiration. Coincidentally at 8km - 9km the longest and most trecherous km the rains began, and didn't really cease. Our spirits were affected, conversation came to a null mostly due to fatigue, breath conservation and the clamorous sound of rain hitting out rain jackets, bodies and lush vegetation.
We passed through the montaña sin fe (the mountian without faith) and other never ending sections like the accent of the repented, and were soaked dispite our attempts to stay dry. Lunch was taken at an establishment and consisted of beans and tortillas, PBJ's, crackers, water, and some home made gorp. There was water that I believe was directly siphoned from a local stream because there was some "floaters." This was our Thanksgiving lunch.
After a near full work day (7.5 hours) accent to base camp we arrived at the páramo at around 3000 meters. [pah’-rah-mo]
noun
1. Paramo, an Alpine plain open to the winds. (m)
2. Any place extremely cold. (m)
3. Waste land (descampado). (m)
4. Drizzle (llovizna). (Andes) (m)
And have you all know, of those applied to this zone.
We arrived cold, wet, famished and jellylegged to the unheated base camp complex that resembled something from the movie the Shining. We hurried to our ice cold room and changed into all the gear we had that was relatively dry. After a resting period which incorporated body heat, we started to cook with Drake's alchohol stove which consisted of a can cut in half, and the bottom of the top part creased to allow oxygen to flow out like a stove top gas stove. It took a long time and drew the attention of a German guided group that was drinking beer and waiting for their course meal (mostly elders). Finally we boiled a meager amount of water and had tea to rid our deep soaked cold from the inside out. Ohh yeah, this was the beginning of our thanksgiving dinner. We cooked ramen and spegetti noodles with plenty of red pepper spice packets to start the internal heat and had more tea. While you all were eating pumpkin pie and rhubarb pie we savored a snickers bar. We were wrapped up in anything we had, Drake resembled a worm in his sleeping bag, I used a towel as a scarf, emily looked as though she could have been in full indigenous apparel, and Micheal was wearing blankies like a dress. We went to sleep early and I was awoken a handfull of times by cold symptoms and nose drainage. Our team woke up around 3 am and shared one pack of essentials to make it to the summit for sunrise. We hiked in the dark, dew, and wind. In the distance higher on the mountain we saw the headlamps of the german group whom had left camp around 2 am. When we turned off the headlamps the sky gave birth to the brilliance of the contrast of stars and the pitch black wilderness reserve. We were walking blindly and at one point had to go with our gut instincts at a fork in the path, but after about 3km found a sign that reassured our direction. A little before 5 the alititute steepend and we found ourselves onthe heels of the German group. Here the path routed to a single track and the groups bottlenecked. I felt like I was at Hillary Step on Everest, the wind had increased exponentially as we rose our from the cover or the ridge line. Slowly but surely we passed the group. I could feel the presence of the peak, and like morder to the ring was pulled to the spirit. Naturally adrenaline secreated into my system from the increase of acuteness of the terrain.
I bypassed many and eureka, took my last few strides to the peak. There was hugs bieng given, smiles and an increase air turbulance as we were now scraping the skyline. Photos, video and alchohol were bieng dispensed to top off the climatic event. We waited for the sunrise, surrounded by clouds and our hands went numb and out thoughts of breakfast and taking seemed less appealing. My team accepted some Casique guaro alchohol (gringo killer) to ease the mental perception of cold. I later got a pounding headache, probably from the alchohol, but maybe a combination from the lack of breakfast, altitude, and exertion.
Suddenly an deep orange and a clearing of sky permitted the some 20 people at the top to see the sun rising in the Carribean. It was brief but sufficed out escipade. After about 30-45 min at the top the cold became unbearable especially for Drake and Michael whom's legs were exposed to the wind Slowly the climbers trickled down the mountain. My team followed with the light at the end oatmeal breakfast at a hopefully warmer basecamp. The trail that was previously dark revealed rock formations, alpine lakes and bird activity. After decending the 5.5 km to base camp, we stopped quicky and started out still looming quest to get off the mountain. It was rainy and when we set out our hopes were fragil, but the sun burst through the clouds and it felt like a baptism to shed all the layers we had been wearing for what seemed forever. The feeling of the sun, a mist and warmer wind stimulating our skin, mind and nervous systems. Our spirits rebounded and we made good time and felt more enthusiastic about taking pictures on the easier descent. The terrain was something that we had been blind to on the way up because of the torrential rains.
The descent down the mountain made me recollect the longness and neverendingness of the treck, it felt even longer. It felt good to tell the others climbing upward of our accomplishment and to feel the gravity working in our favor. We stopped for lunch at one of the water sources out of the blue I was stunk on my back by an ant bee hybrid insect. I had Michael suck out the poison and drake unirinated on it to sanitize it. I must reiterate that if wernt for the changes in vegetation, it would have that we were not making progress. At about the same time it started raining on our day up to base camp, it started raining on our way down. The mud transformed the trail into a muddy slippin' slide. All of us in the group went down at least once. Emily later had a blister on her heel the size of a half dollar. My legs have been recooperating for 3 days, though I have done yoga to help they ache deep in the tissues and time seems to be the only cure.
All in all, it was worth it. I feel more compelled to do other technical hikes, I feel accomplished phisically, and more spiritually conected with the earth and its mysteries. Mountains, I believe are a representation of life and goals in life, you have to put in a lot to get to the top, and once you get there it will be magnificient no matter the view and its not necessarily about arriving at the top but the journey and how you get there. You will end up a more rounded, spiritually and environmentally connected individual. And if you do catch an amazing view, you are in the presence of bliss. And every time I have hiked I have encountered miracles, or in better terminology, grand occurances. Running into wild animals, the views, the terrain, mother nature, your inner psychology all usually reveal some form beauty that might otherwise go unnoticed or unexplored. So get out their and find your mountains.
Pura Vida,
Thom
Cerro Chirripó 12050 ft- the eternal waters. (should be a synonym for the never ending trail, eternal fatigue). It totaled out to be 46km in two days, 14.5km from trailhead to base camp, 3am rise 5.5km summit bid to sunrise, nearly 20 hours of 16,000 feet accent and descent, fairly decent. A test of wits to say the least.
If your wondering where I learned how to do math, when we arrived we had to hike 3km from the closest town to the base of the trailhead. We had heavy packs (25-40 lbs) and the few steps from the ranger station seemed too tedious and started a burn that would be sustained for many, many hours. I used my spanish communication skills and stepped into a hotel and conversed to a local (Francisco - a local heroe mountain runner, and extremely kind with his words) and stored some of our unnecessary gear in his hotel establishment for a dollar or so.
We started our trek around 7:30 am, the rise was slow and steady and horses and cows scattered the farmland that was touching the parkland. It was a bright day in San Gerardo and we could see the small town, its coffee farms and bannana farms. The first kilometer was long but I was antsy to get high on the mountain and very excited to be not at near sea level. So I wasn't as shocked like my team by the sluggish arrival of the 1km sign.
The hike later turned into a never ending accent, and we later realized that the lonely planet had miscalculated and underestimate the hiking distances the to the peak and basecamp crestones. This didn't explicitly affect out moral as we stopped and talked to some people desending. The natural beauty and spirit kept me focused, and I knew that somewhere the peak was awaiting another visit from a sentient bieng. A lot of water consumption helped with the altitude gain from the where 4,900 ft the trailhead started at. The hike soon turned into a biology and ecosystems field study. Eccentric sounds of birds and change of plant life gave the trail character and helped us feel as though we were making progress to the unseen "cumbre" or peak that had been hidden by cloud cover. The clear skies in the lower parts of the mountain were eventually were enveloped in the cloud that was produced from the transpiration. Coincidentally at 8km - 9km the longest and most trecherous km the rains began, and didn't really cease. Our spirits were affected, conversation came to a null mostly due to fatigue, breath conservation and the clamorous sound of rain hitting out rain jackets, bodies and lush vegetation.
We passed through the montaña sin fe (the mountian without faith) and other never ending sections like the accent of the repented, and were soaked dispite our attempts to stay dry. Lunch was taken at an establishment and consisted of beans and tortillas, PBJ's, crackers, water, and some home made gorp. There was water that I believe was directly siphoned from a local stream because there was some "floaters." This was our Thanksgiving lunch.
After a near full work day (7.5 hours) accent to base camp we arrived at the páramo at around 3000 meters. [pah’-rah-mo]
noun
1. Paramo, an Alpine plain open to the winds. (m)
2. Any place extremely cold. (m)
3. Waste land (descampado). (m)
4. Drizzle (llovizna). (Andes) (m)
And have you all know, of those applied to this zone.
We arrived cold, wet, famished and jellylegged to the unheated base camp complex that resembled something from the movie the Shining. We hurried to our ice cold room and changed into all the gear we had that was relatively dry. After a resting period which incorporated body heat, we started to cook with Drake's alchohol stove which consisted of a can cut in half, and the bottom of the top part creased to allow oxygen to flow out like a stove top gas stove. It took a long time and drew the attention of a German guided group that was drinking beer and waiting for their course meal (mostly elders). Finally we boiled a meager amount of water and had tea to rid our deep soaked cold from the inside out. Ohh yeah, this was the beginning of our thanksgiving dinner. We cooked ramen and spegetti noodles with plenty of red pepper spice packets to start the internal heat and had more tea. While you all were eating pumpkin pie and rhubarb pie we savored a snickers bar. We were wrapped up in anything we had, Drake resembled a worm in his sleeping bag, I used a towel as a scarf, emily looked as though she could have been in full indigenous apparel, and Micheal was wearing blankies like a dress. We went to sleep early and I was awoken a handfull of times by cold symptoms and nose drainage. Our team woke up around 3 am and shared one pack of essentials to make it to the summit for sunrise. We hiked in the dark, dew, and wind. In the distance higher on the mountain we saw the headlamps of the german group whom had left camp around 2 am. When we turned off the headlamps the sky gave birth to the brilliance of the contrast of stars and the pitch black wilderness reserve. We were walking blindly and at one point had to go with our gut instincts at a fork in the path, but after about 3km found a sign that reassured our direction. A little before 5 the alititute steepend and we found ourselves onthe heels of the German group. Here the path routed to a single track and the groups bottlenecked. I felt like I was at Hillary Step on Everest, the wind had increased exponentially as we rose our from the cover or the ridge line. Slowly but surely we passed the group. I could feel the presence of the peak, and like morder to the ring was pulled to the spirit. Naturally adrenaline secreated into my system from the increase of acuteness of the terrain.
I bypassed many and eureka, took my last few strides to the peak. There was hugs bieng given, smiles and an increase air turbulance as we were now scraping the skyline. Photos, video and alchohol were bieng dispensed to top off the climatic event. We waited for the sunrise, surrounded by clouds and our hands went numb and out thoughts of breakfast and taking seemed less appealing. My team accepted some Casique guaro alchohol (gringo killer) to ease the mental perception of cold. I later got a pounding headache, probably from the alchohol, but maybe a combination from the lack of breakfast, altitude, and exertion.
Suddenly an deep orange and a clearing of sky permitted the some 20 people at the top to see the sun rising in the Carribean. It was brief but sufficed out escipade. After about 30-45 min at the top the cold became unbearable especially for Drake and Michael whom's legs were exposed to the wind Slowly the climbers trickled down the mountain. My team followed with the light at the end oatmeal breakfast at a hopefully warmer basecamp. The trail that was previously dark revealed rock formations, alpine lakes and bird activity. After decending the 5.5 km to base camp, we stopped quicky and started out still looming quest to get off the mountain. It was rainy and when we set out our hopes were fragil, but the sun burst through the clouds and it felt like a baptism to shed all the layers we had been wearing for what seemed forever. The feeling of the sun, a mist and warmer wind stimulating our skin, mind and nervous systems. Our spirits rebounded and we made good time and felt more enthusiastic about taking pictures on the easier descent. The terrain was something that we had been blind to on the way up because of the torrential rains.
The descent down the mountain made me recollect the longness and neverendingness of the treck, it felt even longer. It felt good to tell the others climbing upward of our accomplishment and to feel the gravity working in our favor. We stopped for lunch at one of the water sources out of the blue I was stunk on my back by an ant bee hybrid insect. I had Michael suck out the poison and drake unirinated on it to sanitize it. I must reiterate that if wernt for the changes in vegetation, it would have that we were not making progress. At about the same time it started raining on our day up to base camp, it started raining on our way down. The mud transformed the trail into a muddy slippin' slide. All of us in the group went down at least once. Emily later had a blister on her heel the size of a half dollar. My legs have been recooperating for 3 days, though I have done yoga to help they ache deep in the tissues and time seems to be the only cure.
All in all, it was worth it. I feel more compelled to do other technical hikes, I feel accomplished phisically, and more spiritually conected with the earth and its mysteries. Mountains, I believe are a representation of life and goals in life, you have to put in a lot to get to the top, and once you get there it will be magnificient no matter the view and its not necessarily about arriving at the top but the journey and how you get there. You will end up a more rounded, spiritually and environmentally connected individual. And if you do catch an amazing view, you are in the presence of bliss. And every time I have hiked I have encountered miracles, or in better terminology, grand occurances. Running into wild animals, the views, the terrain, mother nature, your inner psychology all usually reveal some form beauty that might otherwise go unnoticed or unexplored. So get out their and find your mountains.
Pura Vida,
Thom
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Nicaragua account
Hola,
New explorations have enveloped new visions and excitement. The weekend before last I woke at the crack of dawn and taxied with three (Katie, Martin, and Jordan) others to a bus that would usher us to the Nicaraguan border. We took a bus from there directly to the border, because the bus seats were allready full I slept on the floor using my bag as a pillow and Katies legs as a leg rest. I went on a short trip up there mainly to get a basic feel for the borders, busses, and Nicaragua. At the border we were swarmed with people trying to exchange cash, taxi drivers and others trying to obtain money one way or the other (selling or begging). The border was hectic but we stormed into the lines to get the passports stamped and crossing fees paid. But there was more, and if I hadn't come with my other experience colleage (Katie) then I might have either missed one of the numerous check points or fallen to the back of the mile long lines. Transport trucks were lined up nearly a mile back from the intermediary zone. Dust was bieng blown around from the traffic and lack of pavement.
We taxied out of there for cheap and were soon driving along side the lake of Nicaragua, the biggest lake in central america. At the center of the lake were two volcanoes together forming the island of Ometepe. The water was a grayish color and strong winds made the water look as if it were a sea. I felt like Don Quixote when we passed by a wind farm which was generating a significant amount of renewable energy. We taxied to the tourist town of San Juan Del Sur though miles of cow pastures, and millions of birds flying low through the fields in asymetrical patterns.
On the outskirts of town I could see the Nicaraguan development, minimalistic poor communities bunched together. As we got closer to the town more gringos and touristy development poped up. After checking into the 5$ a night hostel we checked out the beach, where boats were parked out in the bay. There was significant development along the hillside which sheltered the little town that I was told was from foreigners.
In town breakfast at the local market cost 2$ for a pankake with fresh fruit, gallo pinto, (rice and beans) eggs and toast, and other staples. The highlight was meeting the friendly people of the town, nearly everyone gesturing and saying hello.
Surfing at Playas maderas was raw, 9'8" surfboard rented for 10$ with a free beer, and 5$ for the awesome offroad ride through mud to surf thats world class. There I really had the opportunity to harness the 4-6 feet waves. The water there was at least 10 degrees cooler that the waters of Costa Rica which brough a lot more stingy jellyfish (medusas) and mantarayas (which i stepped on one). The 300 yard stretch of break was packed with pros and amatures and people were camped around the parking lot. Surfed for 5 hours straight and only to stop because of the sunset and surf dying down.
Nicaragua means the water of the people in the native tounge there, and now I know why. I cant wait to return to see more of the coutries historical heritage and other wilderness beauties. Poverty is a serious issue but the people seem very calm, and in touch with their spiritual sides. Also they are environmentally aware, on our way offroading to playa las maderas there was a community building event where people of all ages were cleaning up a park, and maybe talkign about the environment. Around San Juan del Sur I was also very stoked to see "I recycle, San Juan del Sur" stickers. And it showed, the waters of their cover were immaculate, and the community streets were near perfect.
I need to try and write not late at night to be more coloful.
T
New explorations have enveloped new visions and excitement. The weekend before last I woke at the crack of dawn and taxied with three (Katie, Martin, and Jordan) others to a bus that would usher us to the Nicaraguan border. We took a bus from there directly to the border, because the bus seats were allready full I slept on the floor using my bag as a pillow and Katies legs as a leg rest. I went on a short trip up there mainly to get a basic feel for the borders, busses, and Nicaragua. At the border we were swarmed with people trying to exchange cash, taxi drivers and others trying to obtain money one way or the other (selling or begging). The border was hectic but we stormed into the lines to get the passports stamped and crossing fees paid. But there was more, and if I hadn't come with my other experience colleage (Katie) then I might have either missed one of the numerous check points or fallen to the back of the mile long lines. Transport trucks were lined up nearly a mile back from the intermediary zone. Dust was bieng blown around from the traffic and lack of pavement.
We taxied out of there for cheap and were soon driving along side the lake of Nicaragua, the biggest lake in central america. At the center of the lake were two volcanoes together forming the island of Ometepe. The water was a grayish color and strong winds made the water look as if it were a sea. I felt like Don Quixote when we passed by a wind farm which was generating a significant amount of renewable energy. We taxied to the tourist town of San Juan Del Sur though miles of cow pastures, and millions of birds flying low through the fields in asymetrical patterns.
On the outskirts of town I could see the Nicaraguan development, minimalistic poor communities bunched together. As we got closer to the town more gringos and touristy development poped up. After checking into the 5$ a night hostel we checked out the beach, where boats were parked out in the bay. There was significant development along the hillside which sheltered the little town that I was told was from foreigners.
In town breakfast at the local market cost 2$ for a pankake with fresh fruit, gallo pinto, (rice and beans) eggs and toast, and other staples. The highlight was meeting the friendly people of the town, nearly everyone gesturing and saying hello.
Surfing at Playas maderas was raw, 9'8" surfboard rented for 10$ with a free beer, and 5$ for the awesome offroad ride through mud to surf thats world class. There I really had the opportunity to harness the 4-6 feet waves. The water there was at least 10 degrees cooler that the waters of Costa Rica which brough a lot more stingy jellyfish (medusas) and mantarayas (which i stepped on one). The 300 yard stretch of break was packed with pros and amatures and people were camped around the parking lot. Surfed for 5 hours straight and only to stop because of the sunset and surf dying down.
Nicaragua means the water of the people in the native tounge there, and now I know why. I cant wait to return to see more of the coutries historical heritage and other wilderness beauties. Poverty is a serious issue but the people seem very calm, and in touch with their spiritual sides. Also they are environmentally aware, on our way offroading to playa las maderas there was a community building event where people of all ages were cleaning up a park, and maybe talkign about the environment. Around San Juan del Sur I was also very stoked to see "I recycle, San Juan del Sur" stickers. And it showed, the waters of their cover were immaculate, and the community streets were near perfect.
I need to try and write not late at night to be more coloful.
T
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
October 13-18 The Carribean: Tortugero, Costa Rica and Bocas del Toro, Panama
Hello all,
This was the climactic week that many in my program, including myself, had been waiting for. I awoke at 5 am and finished packing, meeting the bus with my guitar and my backpack. Anticipation was in the air despite the early rise for the 40 or so USAC students. I missed breakfast at the house because Papá Hernán insisted that he go get some stuff to make breakfast instead of some bread. He came riding by on his bicycle to make sure I was ok as the bus was departing at six. The bus ride up though the hillside and volcanoes was relatively swift. Our destination was the infamous Toturtuguero, which is surrounded by a wildlife reserve in the North Caribbean side of Costa Rica. Totuguero is most known for its frequent visits and nesting of leatherback and green turtles. The little town is only accessed by boat, and one has to travel out of the way to get there. On the bus we passed by fruit stands, machinery rentals, and the numerous restaurants that are so commonly scattered along the s shaped narrow roads. Once in the highlands, volcanoes scattered the horizon. We stopped for breakfast just outside the Capital of San Jose and continued toward the carribean. On the eastern side of the main land we encountered the cloud forest and lower in elevation more and more farms. They have large banana plantations (second biggest exporter after Ecuador), tons of pineapple (1st in the world), coconut, and of course coffee. We arrived at the coast only to be loaded into some “pangas” or little speed boats. After about 2 hours though the canal river system we arrived at our resort, “Pachira Hotel” which was on the other side of the a river that separated us from the little town of Tortuguero and the turtle nesting grounds! We were greeted with tropical drinks and pineapple and a buffet.
After accommodating in my room with my roommates Martin and Jack we all met up at the pool to wait for our first walk on the beach of Tortuguero. We were dropped off with our guide a half mile from the town with ambitions to see turtles. We saw many nests, eggs and even fresh turtles tracks to the Atlantic. We were told not to swim there because of the strong currents and the danger of sharks that are feeding on the turtles. The students were wild, throwing footballs, straying off, taking photos, most acted like goofballs. With no luck seeing any live turtles, the guide informed us later that it would be best to see them in the wee hours of the morning or at night. I did learn some cool things, the mother leatherbacks (the largest turtle in the world) breed twice a year on that beach and after their first mate, if they can’t find another mate they save sperm from the first and somehow invitro themselves. What an adaption! Out of a litter of about 200 only about seven or less might make it back to the beach. The town of Tortuguero was relatively small and had a lot more people of African descent. There was a lot knick knack shops, a few markets, a dock and the housing which I don’t believed had a sewage system. I randomly encountered my other two friends there on my way back whom had traveled on their own accord there and were more or less tracking our steps. The other group excursion in Tortugero was spent wildlife watching by boat (howler monkeys, birds, and spider monkeys) which wasn’t the best because it was down pouring. Another select group went on a nature walk where we studied the plants and animals of the jungle. I was fascinated by our guide’s knowledge of herbology and naturopathy. He himself had diabetes and beat it with certain tea’s and foods I have written in my journal. Also another cool fact he informed us in is how with a certain tree sap eases muscle pains. He said if the world knew about it there would be no doctors. The nights at the hotel were wild, celebrating at the pool and more buffets. I got my pleasure and dopamine from playing guitar with other guitarists (Evan and Ziggy) and other enthusiasts. What a good feeling making music. We attracted many others and found ways to make percussion and harmonization.
On day three we split in the “madrugada” or early hours for the border of Panama and the islands and town of Bocas del Toro. Driving along the Carribean was like exploring another country. Some students got in the habit of arriving late and managed to delay our departure for Bocas. Some of the students true colors began to fly, whining, and attitudes slowly surfaced from their sub surfaces. Yawning and tiredness spread throughout our busses to Bocas and caused much needed catchup shut eye. Upon arriving at the Panama border we had to get out and cross a rickety iron bridge that crossed a large brown murky river. Semi trucks still managed to cross it across the wooden planks that were haphazardly lain across train tracks to create the border crossing. The walkways to the side weren’t the most secure, the railing was rusted and there were holes in the steel floor from the same oxidizing and deterioration. Young boys from Panama singled out and questioned all of the travelers in our group for money. These were my first glimpses of the faces of Panamanians. They were of an indigenous heritage whereas the “ticos” or people of Costa Rica were mostly Spanish. After dealing with the border and customs we loaded onto other smaller busses. We were bombarded by more border boy requests; I gave some rations of chips instead of money because I noticed that they seemed to be buying sweets and sodas with their earnings. On the drive we passed through a Free trade zone where there were many factories, the most dominant being the Chuquita banana factories and plantations. I was appalled and nausiated when we passed by a dump where they were burning trash and other plastics. The country was less developed commercially and not scattered with Imperial and Pilsen beer signs which are so common on the Costa Rica side. Riding behind the other bus I saw the other bus driver pass another bus going like 20 mph uphill on a blind spot double yellow. Down here traffic laws more so guidelines. I fell asleep amidst the flat farmland region and woke up in a port town.
Here we loaded on to speed boats and slowly left this residential and commercial melting pot. I thought we were at a lake but later realized that this was the Carribean. There was make shift shanty shacks and plastic bottles lining the shores we had to drive slowly by. These are the people that have been neglected by the American international corporate international politics. While we drove by on our speed boats other locals were out fishing in what looked to be hand carved canoes. When we got out of the cove community, we increased velocity and by the time we passed a large tanker we were on what was probably the fastest boat I have ever been on. The waters went from dark to different shades of blue and were still calm. Furthermore the shores were now covered in a mangrove type of vegetation which reinforced my confusion to whether it was a lake or the ocean.
The town of Bocas del Toro was quaint and was a mix of the indigenous and Africans. It definitely had a touristy feel, but was infused with the locals. Taxi trucks ravaged the streets, and occasionally one could see the very military looking police. It was very clean and most development stayed close to the crystal waters. There was only one ATM in the whole town that worked and we had to change from Colones (Costa Rican currency) to American dollars and some Panamanian coins that didn’t have values printed on them. Here the night life was fun, there was a large array of cheap local beers that in my opinion, were a step up from the monopoly of water beer in Costa Rica. During the day we sped off through the Islands in Bocas Del Toro. I snorkeled in colorful choral mosaics, with multitudes of fish, starfish, jellyfish, sea slugs, urchins and even saw a barracuda! The water here is so clear that it facilitated such activities easily. We visited a few islands even made it to the island where they hosted the first Survivor show. Lo and behold did I find out that my boat driver was a third generation resident of that island island. He lived there for 30 years until it was declared a national park and him and his family could no longer legally fish in the waters. His father had lived there his whole life sustaining with the vegetation and fishing. He still lived there that beautiful day I visited and was manager of the island. He had an outpost and counted turtle visits, eggs, nests and was generating statistics. I enjoy speaking with the locals; it’s amazing how much more you can learn when you speak the local dialect. I talked to a beach maintenance worker at another island while on a run and got the low down on the island history and talked Panama’s politics.
On the way back to Puntarenas we had an interesting transit story. I was napping for many hours and woke up on the eastern side of Costa Rica to find that our bus was stopped for maintenance. We were like blind sheep without our dog. The directors didn’t brief us on anything, and out driver was in the back doing maintenance for a good 45 minutes. We waited, and finally hit the road but were only moving at like 10 km an hour. I had to inquire why we were moving so slow and they said so that the engine didn’t overheat. Cars and buses alike were passing our snail pace. We were returning to the national reserve cloud forest ascending into the volcanic hills when a faint burning smell filled the cabin. Ruth, the kiwi from New Zealand immediately informed those in front of the burning smell. We didn’t pull off immediately because there was no shoulder in the narrow road. When we did find a spot everyone scurried out of the bus to see a large plume of smoke exiting from the engine compartment. We were left explanation less until I probed for an answer. The driver after extinguishing the flames claimed that it was a towel that caught fire. While the driver gallantly tried to fix the problem in pitch dark, we found ourselves in another predicament. We had not cell phone service. I and my other friend broke out our head lamps and helped the driver find his tools and whatnot. Later after it was “fixed” we were herded onto the crippled bus and continued our jogging speed accent to cell phone coverage. We were swooped up another 20-30 minutes later in a new bus and survived! Haha well I am getting fatigued so this is the end until next time.
This was the climactic week that many in my program, including myself, had been waiting for. I awoke at 5 am and finished packing, meeting the bus with my guitar and my backpack. Anticipation was in the air despite the early rise for the 40 or so USAC students. I missed breakfast at the house because Papá Hernán insisted that he go get some stuff to make breakfast instead of some bread. He came riding by on his bicycle to make sure I was ok as the bus was departing at six. The bus ride up though the hillside and volcanoes was relatively swift. Our destination was the infamous Toturtuguero, which is surrounded by a wildlife reserve in the North Caribbean side of Costa Rica. Totuguero is most known for its frequent visits and nesting of leatherback and green turtles. The little town is only accessed by boat, and one has to travel out of the way to get there. On the bus we passed by fruit stands, machinery rentals, and the numerous restaurants that are so commonly scattered along the s shaped narrow roads. Once in the highlands, volcanoes scattered the horizon. We stopped for breakfast just outside the Capital of San Jose and continued toward the carribean. On the eastern side of the main land we encountered the cloud forest and lower in elevation more and more farms. They have large banana plantations (second biggest exporter after Ecuador), tons of pineapple (1st in the world), coconut, and of course coffee. We arrived at the coast only to be loaded into some “pangas” or little speed boats. After about 2 hours though the canal river system we arrived at our resort, “Pachira Hotel” which was on the other side of the a river that separated us from the little town of Tortuguero and the turtle nesting grounds! We were greeted with tropical drinks and pineapple and a buffet.
After accommodating in my room with my roommates Martin and Jack we all met up at the pool to wait for our first walk on the beach of Tortuguero. We were dropped off with our guide a half mile from the town with ambitions to see turtles. We saw many nests, eggs and even fresh turtles tracks to the Atlantic. We were told not to swim there because of the strong currents and the danger of sharks that are feeding on the turtles. The students were wild, throwing footballs, straying off, taking photos, most acted like goofballs. With no luck seeing any live turtles, the guide informed us later that it would be best to see them in the wee hours of the morning or at night. I did learn some cool things, the mother leatherbacks (the largest turtle in the world) breed twice a year on that beach and after their first mate, if they can’t find another mate they save sperm from the first and somehow invitro themselves. What an adaption! Out of a litter of about 200 only about seven or less might make it back to the beach. The town of Tortuguero was relatively small and had a lot more people of African descent. There was a lot knick knack shops, a few markets, a dock and the housing which I don’t believed had a sewage system. I randomly encountered my other two friends there on my way back whom had traveled on their own accord there and were more or less tracking our steps. The other group excursion in Tortugero was spent wildlife watching by boat (howler monkeys, birds, and spider monkeys) which wasn’t the best because it was down pouring. Another select group went on a nature walk where we studied the plants and animals of the jungle. I was fascinated by our guide’s knowledge of herbology and naturopathy. He himself had diabetes and beat it with certain tea’s and foods I have written in my journal. Also another cool fact he informed us in is how with a certain tree sap eases muscle pains. He said if the world knew about it there would be no doctors. The nights at the hotel were wild, celebrating at the pool and more buffets. I got my pleasure and dopamine from playing guitar with other guitarists (Evan and Ziggy) and other enthusiasts. What a good feeling making music. We attracted many others and found ways to make percussion and harmonization.
On day three we split in the “madrugada” or early hours for the border of Panama and the islands and town of Bocas del Toro. Driving along the Carribean was like exploring another country. Some students got in the habit of arriving late and managed to delay our departure for Bocas. Some of the students true colors began to fly, whining, and attitudes slowly surfaced from their sub surfaces. Yawning and tiredness spread throughout our busses to Bocas and caused much needed catchup shut eye. Upon arriving at the Panama border we had to get out and cross a rickety iron bridge that crossed a large brown murky river. Semi trucks still managed to cross it across the wooden planks that were haphazardly lain across train tracks to create the border crossing. The walkways to the side weren’t the most secure, the railing was rusted and there were holes in the steel floor from the same oxidizing and deterioration. Young boys from Panama singled out and questioned all of the travelers in our group for money. These were my first glimpses of the faces of Panamanians. They were of an indigenous heritage whereas the “ticos” or people of Costa Rica were mostly Spanish. After dealing with the border and customs we loaded onto other smaller busses. We were bombarded by more border boy requests; I gave some rations of chips instead of money because I noticed that they seemed to be buying sweets and sodas with their earnings. On the drive we passed through a Free trade zone where there were many factories, the most dominant being the Chuquita banana factories and plantations. I was appalled and nausiated when we passed by a dump where they were burning trash and other plastics. The country was less developed commercially and not scattered with Imperial and Pilsen beer signs which are so common on the Costa Rica side. Riding behind the other bus I saw the other bus driver pass another bus going like 20 mph uphill on a blind spot double yellow. Down here traffic laws more so guidelines. I fell asleep amidst the flat farmland region and woke up in a port town.
Here we loaded on to speed boats and slowly left this residential and commercial melting pot. I thought we were at a lake but later realized that this was the Carribean. There was make shift shanty shacks and plastic bottles lining the shores we had to drive slowly by. These are the people that have been neglected by the American international corporate international politics. While we drove by on our speed boats other locals were out fishing in what looked to be hand carved canoes. When we got out of the cove community, we increased velocity and by the time we passed a large tanker we were on what was probably the fastest boat I have ever been on. The waters went from dark to different shades of blue and were still calm. Furthermore the shores were now covered in a mangrove type of vegetation which reinforced my confusion to whether it was a lake or the ocean.
The town of Bocas del Toro was quaint and was a mix of the indigenous and Africans. It definitely had a touristy feel, but was infused with the locals. Taxi trucks ravaged the streets, and occasionally one could see the very military looking police. It was very clean and most development stayed close to the crystal waters. There was only one ATM in the whole town that worked and we had to change from Colones (Costa Rican currency) to American dollars and some Panamanian coins that didn’t have values printed on them. Here the night life was fun, there was a large array of cheap local beers that in my opinion, were a step up from the monopoly of water beer in Costa Rica. During the day we sped off through the Islands in Bocas Del Toro. I snorkeled in colorful choral mosaics, with multitudes of fish, starfish, jellyfish, sea slugs, urchins and even saw a barracuda! The water here is so clear that it facilitated such activities easily. We visited a few islands even made it to the island where they hosted the first Survivor show. Lo and behold did I find out that my boat driver was a third generation resident of that island island. He lived there for 30 years until it was declared a national park and him and his family could no longer legally fish in the waters. His father had lived there his whole life sustaining with the vegetation and fishing. He still lived there that beautiful day I visited and was manager of the island. He had an outpost and counted turtle visits, eggs, nests and was generating statistics. I enjoy speaking with the locals; it’s amazing how much more you can learn when you speak the local dialect. I talked to a beach maintenance worker at another island while on a run and got the low down on the island history and talked Panama’s politics.
On the way back to Puntarenas we had an interesting transit story. I was napping for many hours and woke up on the eastern side of Costa Rica to find that our bus was stopped for maintenance. We were like blind sheep without our dog. The directors didn’t brief us on anything, and out driver was in the back doing maintenance for a good 45 minutes. We waited, and finally hit the road but were only moving at like 10 km an hour. I had to inquire why we were moving so slow and they said so that the engine didn’t overheat. Cars and buses alike were passing our snail pace. We were returning to the national reserve cloud forest ascending into the volcanic hills when a faint burning smell filled the cabin. Ruth, the kiwi from New Zealand immediately informed those in front of the burning smell. We didn’t pull off immediately because there was no shoulder in the narrow road. When we did find a spot everyone scurried out of the bus to see a large plume of smoke exiting from the engine compartment. We were left explanation less until I probed for an answer. The driver after extinguishing the flames claimed that it was a towel that caught fire. While the driver gallantly tried to fix the problem in pitch dark, we found ourselves in another predicament. We had not cell phone service. I and my other friend broke out our head lamps and helped the driver find his tools and whatnot. Later after it was “fixed” we were herded onto the crippled bus and continued our jogging speed accent to cell phone coverage. We were swooped up another 20-30 minutes later in a new bus and survived! Haha well I am getting fatigued so this is the end until next time.
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