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.