Costa Rica Pringles

Costa Rica Part One. Costa Rica Part Two. And finally, now, thank God, the doozy of a long finale. 

Part Two left off in the lush and loud rainforest after a horse ride so long, we could not sit comfortably for days. A breather from adventure was needed so we hit up the most expansive hot springs in the La Fortuna area. We didn't just want hot springs; we wanted A LOT of hot springs. 

The entry fee was shockingly expensive. Alex, when told the price we owed for admission, gaped at entrance man and said, "Do we get to take one of the hot springs home for that price?"

The Baldi hot springs flow straight from the Arenal volcano. The higher and closer to the volcano you climb, the hotter the pools get. It's damn hot in the highest pool. You could poach a fish in that water if you happened to bring a fish along in your bag. We did not bring a fish so instead nearly poached ourselves; we didn't much care because the hot water felt so good on our sore muscles and aching butts.

Plus, swim up bars and piña coladas

and a decent view of the Arenal Volcano

The highest pool.

This here's a fish poachin' pool.

Sufficiently restored to life, we moved on from the rainforest to the next region on the itinerary -- the beach at Manuel Antonio National Park. The long drive from La Fortuna to Manuel Antonio involved crossing the infamous "crocodile bridge."

Our little girl on a bridge above a gathering of crocodiles.

I was fine.

(Nope, not fine, dragged her off the bridge,

turns out I don't trust bridges?)

We are not beach people so were approaching our next stop with suspicion. Unfortunately for us, we were also approaching it on Costa Rican Spring Break so were most definitely not alone at Manuel Antonio. It was a real mob scene. It took our driver a painfully long time to thread through the moseying hordes in the streets.

Our hotel up high on the hill at Manuel Antonio was made almost entirely of re-purposed shipping containers. The idea of a hotel made solely of re-purposed and recycled materials was exciting until we entered our room. Rooms made of old shipping containers are as narrow and claustrophobic as you think they'd be.

Cool!

not so cool

nice view, though, we'll deal

We arrived early morning our first day at the beach to beat the crowds and snag a rental tent for sun hiding purposes. I also immediately rented a boogie board to show the kids "how fun they are." I jumped into the water, waited for a big wave, hopped onto my boogie board with a "whooooo!" I was immediately flipped by the wave, pulled under, dragged along the bottom of the sea for awhile and deposited mercilessly on the beach.

I came up spitting sand and saltwater with a giant bleeding abrasion on my knee -- an area that still bears a faint scar nearly three months later. Goddamit, I am not a beach person.

Coco and The Loosh watched my smooth boogie board moves and saw me limping out of the water and quickly decided boogie boards were not for them. Smart kids.

We all got sunburned at Manuel Antonio despite taking every precaution. You're pretty much hovering over the equator in Costa Rica so there's not much to be done besides diving into full shade at every opportunity. Alex even got sunburned through his shirt. It's a "breathable" shirt he often wears to the gym but we soon learned "breathable" means "full of tiny holes so the sun can stealthily attack your skin."

Our guided tour through Manuel Antonio National Park the next day was much more our style. Our guide carried a telescope and was an expert at spotting wildlife all around us, wildlife we never would have seen solo on account of wildlife's excellent blending skills.

Just look at this damn frog

and look at this owl trying to be a branch

look at this sleepy spider monkey with his little dangly legs

trying to hide behind a leaf

and look at this sloth not even remotely trying to blend in,

just being all, "hey, girl."

A family of capuchin monkeys lived in the trees above our hotel. They played games together like taking turns rolling down the hill behind our room and trying to steal guests' bags if left unattended on the balcony. There were warnings posted everywhere about the thieving capuchins. They are super cute but don't get distracted. They are up to no good. Do not, no matter what they say to you, trust them.

Hi lady,

just put your purse down and go back into your room.

I'll watch it for you, I promise.
I am a helpful monkey.

Animals are all over the place in Costa Rica. They run the show. This big guy surprised us when we sat down to lunch one afternoon and he was right beside our table --

What are you looking at?

I SAID WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?

And this one startled us when it showed up behind me at our dinner table --

Hi, guys. Deer here.

And this little punk was, of course, waiting for us upon return to our room --

I want to steal your iPhone

The kids were each allowed two souvenirs on our Costa Rica trip. Coco chose a cute one at Manuel Antonio -- a pair of stuffed monkeys that wrap their arms around your neck with the aid of velcro. Lucien, on the other hand, chose a can of Pringles. I told him it was a bad choice, that he was never going to remember a can of Pringles and should instead choose something more lasting. He insisted it's what he wanted. Fine, we all have to live with our choices sometimes.

He has ever since made it a point to prove me wrong. Still to this day, nearly three months later, even if he's in the middle of playing one of his video games or doing homework or whatever, he'll suddenly lean back and yell, "Whooooo! Remember those amazing Costa Rica Pringles?"

Our final destination was the wild Osa Peninsula. The Osa Peninsula is not for the faint of heart. It is remote and hard to get to. There aren't many people around. But if you want to experience the unabashed wildness of Costa Rica in all its unpredictable glory, the Osa is the place of dreams.

The Osa

There is no easy way to get to the Osa peninsula but one way, the way we chose, is an hour-long boat taxi from Sierpe through crocodile-infested waters. The boat taxi waiting area was full of people glancing anxiously between the nearby sign that said, "Crocodile area, do not swim" and our boat captains, all of whom seemed to be about fifteen years old.

Before we got moving,

we had no idea what we were in for

The boat taxi traveled at suffocating high speeds down the river through the crocodile laden mangrove forest and made sharply banked turns so severe you could reach down and touch the water without much effort. When we crossed the wakes of other boats, our boat went airborne. It was an intense trip, made more intense when the co-captain suddenly began motioning frantically for all of us to put on our life jackets (they had been casually tossed at our feet before that). Soon thereafter we left the river and hit the open water and the ocean swells. Holy shitballs.

One blessed hour later, the boat beached at Drake Bay, our destination. We smoothed our hair, tried to get our breathing back to normal, then took off our shoes and jumped into the shallow water to walk ashore on shaky legs. Our suitcases were balanced on the backs of the captain and co-captain and carried to the beach beside us.

The captains

trying to get the boat taxi back out to sea
so they can go scare more people

A cherry red 1980 Range Rover was waiting for us on the beach. Cheerful American Patrick jumped out to give us warm handshakes and welcome us to Drake Bay. Patrick stuffed us into the back of the old Range Rover, tossed our suitcases on the rack up top, and drove us up the long driveway to his resort, Drake Bay Getaway, where his co-owner and partner, Yens, awaited us with pineapple orange welcome smoothies. Every moment from that moment on made it evident -- the decision to brave the Osa Peninsula was worth the terror.

Drake Bay Getaway Resort itself is small, only five cabins, but it is immaculate and beautiful and built entirely of sustainable materials. Yens and Patrick built the resort themselves with the help of a small team of locals and have since carved out a very special life for themselves in Costa Rica. They left their high stress jobs in Seattle a few years ago; one used to be an aeronautical engineer and the other a software guy. They don't miss their previous lives at all. That definitely got Alex's wheels turning so don't be surprised if we suddenly up and vanish to some remote exotic corner of the world.

The shining star of the Osa Peninsula is Corcovado National Park, the largest park in Costa Rica, renowned as one of the most biodiverse places on earth. It is remote and pristine and fringed by unspoiled beaches. To protect the park and animals therein, any visitor to Corcovado must be registered and accompanied by a certified guide.

Our guide arrived at Drake Bay just before dawn to pick us up for our Corcovado tour. The first part of the tour was another high speed 45-minute boat ride to the far away ranger station at the edge of the park.

Coco is still very sleepy at this early hour

and does not care she's on a boat

The first thing we saw upon jumping out of the boat at the ranger station was a lizard scooped up by a very large bird right in front of us. Coco and Lucien screamed; the bird had bitten off the lizard's tail during the attack and the tail sat on the ground wiggling around by itself for quite some time after its owner was long gone.

I've never seen my kids that horrified/speechless. Welcome to Corcovado, my darlings!

We hiked with our guide into the dense forest. Our guide soon spotted many more animals for us to look at through her telescope.

look at this damn howler monkey

I've never been in such an isolated place, a place that bears very little if any trace of humans. The thick woods were silent except for the occasional rustling of animals in nearby brush or the call of a tropical bird or the whoosh whoosh whoosh from high in the canopy as howler and spider monkeys swung effortlessly from tree to tree. It was slightly unnerving to be so far away from civilization (I knew I was alone out there with giant snakes and not much backup) but I was also happy to learn places that pure and wild still exist. 

Our guide cracked open several coconuts using a piece of shell and her hands. She fed many pieces to this female coati who was eyeing us from the edge of the woods while we took a breather on the beach. The coati, according to our guide, showed signs of recently giving birth and nursing. She needed a lot of food.

Our guide said it was OK to feed the animals things they would eat in the wild anyway. It's especially OK if you're opening a coconut and there's a new mama coati nearby. Coati adore coconut but they're difficult to open. They'll rarely take the time to do it. It's too risky to be distracted that long in a place crazy as Corcovado.

I told the guide it was OK to feed coconut to the wild Coco, too. She is also a big fan --

Our hike ended at a waterfall where we were able to take a relaxing swim before heading back.

After we'd changed back into dry clothes and started the walk back, our guide pointed at an alligator sunning itself on the banks not far downstream. We were like, "WHY DID YOU LET US GET IN THE WATER" but she assured us the alligator would never get that far upstream because of all the rocks in its way. Plus, it was just a small American alligator, maybe five feet long. It would never do any lethal harm to us, worst it could do was gnaw on a limb a little bit and leave it at that. Well that's comforting.

look at this bastard

My family and our guide. 

We are all alone in this world

and have been for hours

We made it through our hike and relaxed on the gorgeous beach outside the ranger station while waiting for our boat. We said aloud, "What a perfect beach, maybe we should go for a swim while we wait" and our guide said, "Gah! No! Never this beach!" and pointed at the giant crocodile floating not even ten yards offshore, only his eyeballs and part of his snout barely visible above the water. He was lying patiently in wait for a heron or some stupid swimmer.

Do you see that dark shape low in the water, just in front of the cresting wave?

That's the sneaky guy pretending to be a rock.

(Aside: the word for crocodile in Spanish is crocodrilo but Lucien mispronounced it and accidentally said "crocodildo." I can't hear the correct Spanish word in my head anymore thanks to him and inevitably end up saying "crocodildo" whenever the topic of crocodiles comes up. You'd be surprised how often crocodiles are mentioned in Mexico. I gracefully back out of the conversation before I embarrass myself.)

look at this squawky bird

they are gorgeous to see in flight

Our boat ride back to Drake Bay was gentle and sunny and smooth until our captain suddenly banked hard to the left and killed the engine. We were like, "Oh God, what surprise hath Costa Rica for us now? A murderous boat captain?" until we realized he'd spotted a large pod of spinner dolphins, steered us right into them and killed the engine so we could enjoy them swimming around us in silence and not scare them off. It was a gorgeous handful of minutes. Sorry I assumed the worst of you for a second there, Captain, I am suspicious by nature.

The next day Lucien was dehydrated and feeling a bit sick. Yens had given us a bunch of Powerade that morning to get his fluids and electrolytes back up but Lucien was still woozy and wanted only to lie down.

I stayed in the cabin with Lucien, reading a book and enjoying the view, while Alex and Coco went to explore the town of Drake Bay. Not long after Alex and Coco's departure, I heard a knock at our cabin door. It was Yens. He'd brought me a couple beers on ice since he knew I was stuck in the room for awhile. Now that is service. That is also how you win my friendship and loyalty forever.

We loved Drake Bay Getaway (they don't know I'm writing this but they do know I love them). It was our favorite stop of the trip due to its wild location, it's friendliness, its view, plus its three meals a day of gourmet food. We saved the best for last ---- and now Vanessa Williams is in my head and will be for hours.

the view from our cabin

a horse hanging on the beach

Personalized plates for every meal based on our food preferences.

The place is goddamn heaven.

By the end of our seventeen days in Costa Rica, we were all sunburned, abraded, bruised, itchy from strange rashes and unidentifiable bug bites, and exhausted. It was time to go home.

The fastest way back to San Jose to catch our flight back to Mexico City was a tiny propeller plane. Patrick drove us in the cherry red Range Rover one last time to the rinky dink Drake Bay airport. Part of the ride involved driving through a river. The water level was above the tires. I was sure we'd be washed away but Patrick just kept chatting happily as he plowed on through. Jesus, place, stop scaring me when nobody else seems to be scared.

I've got pretty serious plane issues and that damn plane from Drake Bay to San Jose did not much help. The tiny thing bounced all over the place, caught up in wild air currents over the water and mountains of Costa Rica. If our boat captain had been fifteen, I swear our plane pilot was twelve.

Supposedly the flight only lasted 35 minutes. To me it felt like 35 minutes all right.... but all of them underwater. (Reprise of awesome Mario joke from my last post, huzzah.)

what fresh hell is this

 those are the backs of our youngster pilots on either side of that half wall

Never again. Never. Again.

OK! That was hella long but it's over, it's finished.
You will never hear me speak of Costa Rica again
until Alex quits his job and we move there to open an eco-resort.

Those Pringles were truly amazing,
MJ

and these guys are definitely NOT trying to steal your stuff.

(yes, they are)

Pura Vida, Mr. Horsey

I'm going to continue with Costa Rica stories even though it feels like ages since we've been there. My recollection of events may be rusty due to the passage of time; I have a short attention span and a sieve-like mind. 

But I owe it both to myself and my kids to try and preserve as much of life as I can, even if some of it is fuzzy around the edges. Someday when all our minds are soft like mozzarella, we can look back at these pages and say, "Oh yes, I remember that now. We once tried to fight a hot water bottle with an umbrella in Costa Rica." 

Part One of Costa Rica ended with a graphic birth photo. What I neglected to mention was the day we saw that calf being born on a dairy farm was also the day I was birthed by my awesome mama in similarly graphic fashion 42 years ago. That calf and I are both Aries. We are both enthusiastic and optimistic but also short-tempered and impatient. High five, my similarly infuriating calf brother.

When the driver to our next resort heard it was my birthday, he suggested we stop and buy beer for the occasion. I was confused at first: "no....it's OK.....I mean, they'll have beer at the resort, right?" and he said, "Yes, of course, but I didn't mean for the resort, I meant for the CAR!"

That's when I learned people can drink beer in cars in Costa Rica. Not the driver, of course, which we can all agree is for the best, but open container = no problem. Pura Vida!*

(*As for the exact usage of the Costa Rican expression, "Pura Vida," best we can tell is it's a bit of an "Aloha" situation. It can mean hello, goodbye, enjoy your life, have a great day, have a shitty day I don't care, etc. etc. It can mean just about anything. One meaning, however, is set in stone -- Pura Vida means you're in Costa Rica, baby.)

We agreed with the driver that car beer was a great idea -- we were giddy with rebelliousness -- and stopped to pick up a six pack of Costa Rica's favorite, Imperial. It felt odd to be in the passenger seat drinking a beer. Alex had a few, too, and soon thereafter began yelling, "PURA VIDA" at high volume and at regular intervals from the backseat of the car.

The driver may have regretted the beer idea when Alex began yelling but he was still very friendly and entertained us for several hours with fun stories like, "A bus missed this very turn and plunged over the side in 1980, killing three of my childhood friends" and "Everyone driving on this section of road died when the earthquake hit six years ago because landslides wiped out everything."

He said all these things with a broad happy smile on his face so.... is bad news really happy news in Costa Rica?

We got out of the car here because our driver wanted to point out all the areas of devastation the massive earthquake in 2011 created. 
Alex took the time to stretch; he was trying to ignore the fact we could die right now, too, 
if another quake hit, and instead focus on his muscles.

After several hours, our cheerful bummer driver dropped us at our resort just outside La Fortuna, next to the Arenal Volcano, a resort called Leaves and Lizards Retreat.

Leaves and Lizards is in the rainforest, quite a different scene from the mountainous region we'd just left near the Poas Volcano Lodge. If you're headed into the rainforest anytime soon, I hope you don't like to sleep. The rainforest is a thunderous beast; the roaring downpours in the middle of the night (every night) are like no decibel level you've ever experienced unless for some reason you've found yourself standing directly in front of a jet engine. We should have known we were in for a treat when we commented our rental cottage came equipped with 500 sets of earplugs.

such a peaceful place during the day

Rain rarely disturbs me (I live and love in Seattle) but that first night I sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the sheets to my face and yelling, "WE'RE GONNA DIE!" I assumed for a good hour our cottage was about to wash down the hill and splinter into jagged pieces at the bottom. Didn't take long for the kids to run into the room and bury their faces in each of my shoulders. Good times.

It's intense stuff, a rainstorm in a rainforest. And when it's not raining, before and after those storms, the creatures in the trees and brush surrounding you are just about as loud. The animals make screechy startling noises all night long. They don't give a rip if you can't sleep -- "We're animals, b*tch, get outta our house!"

Our cabin was the farthest from the dining room so came equipped with two flashlights. We were advised upon check-in to take the flashlights to dinner so we could make our way back to our cottage afterwards. It sounded fun at the time, kind of like camping.

Leaves and Lizards is a small-ish resort, only nine or ten cabins, and each cabin has its own designated table in the dining room. The dining room is open air with a pool right beside it and a stunning view of the Arenal Volcano on clear days.

It's a dunking Coco

The first night at dinner we really made an entrance. A giant clacking bug flew up to us as soon as we walked in and really took a shine to Lucien. The bug began clacking loudly as he circled Lucien's head and attempted repeatedly to land on his face. Lucien, sometimes one to keep his cool but not this time, immediately took off running through the dining room, arms flailing, clawing at his face and hollering, "IT'S TRYING TO KILL ME, MOM!"

Alex and I waved enthusiastically at everybody and said, "Hi, guys! We're new!" as Lucien continued to run circles around the pool yelling and swatting at himself. Coco took this opportunity to walk over to the pool to feel the temperature of the water and immediately fell into the shallow end. We have arrived, Leaves and Lizards, we have arrived.

Alex wrapped Coco in a towel and we calmly took our seats at the table glaringly labeled with our cabin name on a sign stuck into the table centerpiece. We didn't know where Lucien was at this point but were comforted we could still hear him screaming somewhere out there on the property.

You could almost hear the silent looks family members shared at other tables. The looks spoke words and the words were, "We should perhaps steer clear of the Hummingbird Hacienda."

The kids and I returned to the cottage alone in the pitch dark that night because Alex needed to answer some work emails and the dining room was the only place with WiFi. The three of us walked with our sole flashlight amidst the loudest animal cacophony I've ever heard. I got disoriented at a fork in the road and took the wrong prong, which freaked us out when we didn't recognize any of the things we were passing. Being disoriented in the rainforest in the pitch black night with my two little kids and no cell reception was, ahem, not super comfortable.

The animals were with us all the way, though, as I turned around and picked our way back to that fork in the road. The rainforest emitted shrieks and hums and squawks and clacks from all sides. Coco, Lucien and I huddled together in a tightly wound ball because we weren't sure which, if any, of those animals were likely to attack.

But hearing all of those gorgeous things living their animal lives in the treetops and brush was also indescribably moving. It damn near took my breath away. Even though I was still super freaked out by the darkness and the getting turned around and whatnot, I made the kids stop and just listen. I knew we'd never hear anything like it ever again. It calmed us a bit, standing still listening to the sounds the rainforest has always made. What a goddamn amazing place.

We all made it back to the Hummingbird Hacienda safely that night. But the kids still slept in our bed because they remained a touch jittery, plus a thunderstorm seemed fit to shake our cottage apart again.

Hi, I'm Conan.

Leaves and Lizards is known for it's innovative "Eponicity" equine learning program. It's what brought our family to the resort in the first place, the chance to bond with horses beyond your basic bland nose-to-butt trail ride.

There's a whole theory behind Eponicity -- and a documentary currently being made about it so you should check it out someday -- but the bottom line is horses are our friends and you should get to know your horse before you just jump on his back and start riding him. If you don't spend the time earning his horsey respect first, you are putting the horse in a very uncomfortable situation. Historically speaking, before humans, the only things that have regularly jumped on the backs of horses without context are things with large teeth intent on murder and dinner.

Horses may be domesticated but they are still hardwired to be leery of things on their backs out of the blue. If you just jump on yahoo-style, they may at first be afraid of you, then will probably resent you and think you are a dildo, perhaps even a dildo out to kill them.

I am not an expert on this theory so please take all the above as a grossly inaccurate summary of Eponicity's basic tenets. As I mentioned before, my memory gets hazy nearly immediately following an event.

There is a two-hour Eponicity training course before you're allowed to get on your horse. There are exercises you must complete with your horse before you're permitted to ride, such as leading him around behind you by the reins until he stops immediately whenever you stop. After that, you move on to dropping the reins and getting him to follow you without being led, still stopping when you stop.

After that, you move onto the more advanced steps, such as playing Scrabble with your horse and writing a love letter to your horse. Finally, you must take your horse out for a beer and play his favorite songs on the jukebox. It's all about building trust and familiarity. It's an intense process.

(I am so happy I have time to draw these pictures again)

Horses are very sensitive creatures. They can pick up on your breathing patterns, know how nervous or not nervous you are to be around them, hear the tone of your voice or sense the conviction behind your actions and know whether or not you mean what you say. If I ordered my horse to follow me but was also distracted, maybe looking around for Alex or the kids at the same time, that horse wasn't gonna buy it and would plant his feet firmly in the earth like, "woman, please."

Horses know a spacey, distracted leader is not one worth following.
I'm lookin' squarely at you, there, homeland.

This was the pairing ceremony. 

We were paired with our horses based on common interests, places we've traveled, 

and senses of humor.

I was paired with Conan. Coco had Dorado. I don't remember Lucien's horse's name because my mind is a sieve. I do remember Alex was paired with a feisty thing named J.R. J.R. always had to be way at the back of the group because he had a penchant for kicking other horses and would sometimes bite their butts if too close.

That pairing ceremony was spot on. J.R. found his soulmate because Alex can also be ornery, with sometimes controversial ways of interacting with his peers.

The kids and I are ready to go. 
We have sufficiently bonded with our horses and have passed many tests.

Alex is still wandering around somewhere trying to bond with J.R.
and probably trying to keep him from biting butts.

PS. I creamed Conan at Scrabble that horse can't spell ha ha ha

There are no rules on a Costa Rican trail ride. There is no nose-to-butt, you can do what you want. Faster horses passed slower horses by nudging them aside. Slower horses were free to plod along as slowly as they'd like and not feel badly about themselves. If you had horse smarts, you were allowed to take your horse full throttle when you hit an open field, then join the rest further up the road whenever you were done sowing the wild oats. 

My Conan was on the slow side, Coco's Dorado even slower. And God help poor J.R. who was antsy and wanted badly to push the other horses aside but was forced to stay at the back of pack by the guides on account of his antisocial behavior. At one point Alex, feeling his new horse friend's pain, asked, "If this horse is so damn difficult, why do you let people ride him?" The guides just laughed. The rules in Costa Rica are different, you see. 

Lucien had one of the fastest horses of the entire group. What's-his-name wanted to run so the guides told Lucien to hang on and let him run. And then he was off. It wasn't my most comfortable moment, watching my kid bounce off towards the horizon, but I could tell by his "WHOOOO" that he was OK with it. Sometimes you just gotta let your kids go, especially when they're running away from you on fast horses and you can't even dream of catching up because Conan is a lazy SOB. 

We reached our destination after a few hours of riding through howler monkeys in trees and poison dart frogs being colorful against fallen brown leaves: a waterfall down in the valley. Our group took turns changing into their bathing suits behind a thin curtain which shielded you on one side but didn't do much for all the other sides. You best hope you're not traveling with a perv.

Then we all went swimming at the base of the falls. The group was euphoric, so much laughter and splashing and hollering. I did briefly consider the scary creatures that could potentially be swimming around in the water with us but once I jumped into the cold splashy water, I didn't much care.

We returned on our tired horses to Leaves and Lizards, greasy from sunscreen and sticky from bug spray, muddy from wading through the banks and changing with no towels, and all sorts of humid and crispy.

If it's not yet been made obvious, I dream of the place every day.

You complete me, Conan.
(but shmurdgzf is still not a word)

There will be more chapters of Costa Rica. At the rate I'm going, maybe 20. But I can finally write them because I don't have anything else to do now that my Paris manuscript is with an editor in NYC (though she didn't respond to my latest email so I hope she hasn't fallen off a cliff clutching my manuscript in her hands) and the people I know here in Mexico have written me off as a hermit. 

Pura Vida!

(whatever it means, it seems we should all embrace it on the daily)

MJ

PS. Watch and learn. Lucien is still too distracted to earn the respect of his horse. Coco is too small but working through it. British Dad has gotten his horse to follow him without a lead and stop when he stops, true, but he has yet to teach him euchre or give him a hoof massage. They all have a ways to go.

No hayride problems, Clark

A friend of mine here in Mexico City recently asked for a recommendation for a place to stay in Costa Rica. I gave her my favorite and she booked it the same day. I tried hard to fight the jealousy wave that threatened to overwhelm me when she later sent a few, "Yay! I can't wait, this is going to be amazing, thank you!" messages.

Jealousy won. And now -- well, she and her husband are just going to have to deal with the fact I'm tagging along on their romantic getaway. You can't stop me, people, I am freakishly strong and not worried about losing friends.

Given my feelings, I suppose today is as good a day as any to begin my voluminous love ode to Costa Rica. It will take a long time to write all of it but I don't have anything else to do today besides send incomprehensible text messages to my housekeeper. Paulina and I often communicate by text but my auto correct enjoys changing all of my Spanish words to English words and I rarely notice before I hit "send."

Instead of the fairly straightforward, "Si, claro, no hay problema. Hasta luego. Gracias!" Paulina often receives something more alarming to her, such as, "So, Clark, no hayride problems. Has taken luge. Gracious!"

Anyway, we went to Costa Rica last month.

Our first stop was San Jose, which I'd been warned beforehand is not the most interesting spot for sightseeing. Alex had to stay in San Jose for a few days for work meetings but the kids and I spent one day touring San Jose then bounced to the north.

San Jose does have a gorgeous old theatre --

And an impressive gold museum --

There are many heavy doors in the gold museum to keep the gold safe and unstolen at night. I have no idea what Lucien is doing to those doors above. Let's give him the benefit of the doubt and say it was hilarious.

We had lunch in San Jose with one of Alex's friends. A sharply dressed man appeared at our table towards the end of the meal and began asking questions about our coffee preferences. It was explained to me by Alex's friend that the man was "like a sommelier for coffee" and takes coffee as seriously as a good sommelier takes your wine pairings. Coffee is serious business in Costa Rica.

The coffee sommelier chatted with us some more about our ideal brews then returned with several different contraptions, one for each of us. As he ground beans and sifted and poured, I learned the shape of the container matters, the material of the filter matters, the time it's allowed to sit matters, etc. etc. I'd never seen such an intricate coffee set-up nor met a person with such an incredible breadth of coffee knowledge.

As he poured three different cups of coffee, each one perfectly synced with our personality quirks, interests and hobbies, I asked the man what his job was called. I was hoping there was a more precise title for him than "a sommelier for coffee." The man stood up straight, puffed out his chest with obvious pride and said, "I am called a 'barista'."

Oh dang. I didn't have the heart to tell him we've bastardized that word and made it quite plain back at home.

The next day, the kids and I left Alex in San Jose for work stuff. We were picked up by a driver and taken to our lodge up near the Poas Volcano, about an hour north of San Jose. The drive was stunning as we climbed out of the Central Valley and up into the mountains. We had our heads hanging out of the windows like happy dogs.

The Poas Volcano Lodge is the definition of "cozy" with its relaxing piano music playing in the lobby and its fire crackling in the wood stove in the library. It was the perfect place to return to after a day of sightseeing. I'd play a game with the kids or read a book in the library and enjoy the view of the valley while staff brought me beer. You cannot convince me it gets much better than that.

A hummingbird got into the lodge our first evening, spotted first in the hallway by Lucien, who ran to get a staff member. The staff member he found came calmly down the hall, watched the bird for a few minutes, then reached into the air and grabbed the bird with his hands. He just plucked it right out of the air. He then walked to the door and released it outside, where it quickly flew off with no evident injury.

My mouth agape, I was like, "How did you do that, magic hummingbird man?" and he said, "Oh, it's easy, you just have to watch the bird's flight pattern, wait until it starts to get tired, then grab it when it dips."

I appreciate your humility, magic hummingbird man, but it's OK to admit you've got crazy animal whispering skills. I don't think it's as easy as you say. I'm pretty sure if I tried, and "just watched the bird's flight pattern" or whatever, I would end up with either a handful of air or a handful of crushed bird.

I want to go to there

The next day, a cheerful Poas Volcano Lodge employee named Wilberth drove us to the nearby La Paz Waterfall Gardens. La Paz is part animal sanctuary (mostly full of seized animals once kept illegally as pets) and part waterfall heaven. The kids loved the animals, likely because many of them were accustomed to human interaction so lacked boundaries.

Just look at this crazy toucan --

Toucans be landing on people in Costa Rica like, "What's up, nerds?"

You can also get up close and personal with the scary waterfalls.

Coco jumped into her bed at the lodge later that night, happily exhausted, but immediately began screaming and jumped right back out. Her screams were nearly drowned out by Lucien, who had also begun screaming on the other side of the room. What the hell is wrong with these kids?

They both hopped around frantically, yelling something about animals being in their beds, big fuzzy things that had just brushed up against their legs.

That kind of stuff can really happen in Costa Rica so it's no laughing matter. We'd already had a hummingbird gain admittance to the lodge through its many open doors, who knew what we were dealing with now -- could be a puma, a howler monkey, or, if we're lucky, an adorable little sloth, coochie coochie coo.

Our room was gorgeous

but I was suddenly regretting leaving the patio doors open for fresh air.

I told the kids to get into the far corner while I confronted the wild beasts in our room with the only weapon I had at the ready, an umbrella. I took a leap towards Coco's bed and pulled back the covers in one swift motion, adrenaline pumping, ready to defend my babies against whatever animal had made the unfortunate mistake of wandering into our room.

Jesus. The "animals" were hot water bottles, apparently put there by housekeeping when they came to turn down our beds while we were at dinner. The Poas Volcano Lodge is so damn cozy, I shouldn't have been surprised they were attempting other cozy things. But maybe they should warn you there are unexpected furry things in your bed lest an entire family has a heart attack while fighting a hot water bottle with an umbrella.

 The kids with our new low maintenance pets

Wilberth took us on a couple tours the next day. The first stop was the Poas Volcano, a very active volcano crater that can, and regularly does, blow at any time. Wilberth told us we weren't allowed to hang around the area more than 20 minutes because we could get gassed and made quite ill by all of the sulfur rolling out of the crater. We made a quick stop, took some nice photos, then got the hell out of there.

As we walked away, Lucien said, "When I leak gas, I don't recommend anyone stick around for long, either." That made Wilberth laugh so hard he had to sit down on a bench for a minute. I'm happy we share an appreciation for eleven-year-old boy humor.

lookin' very Costa Rica up here, Poas Volcano

We had some time to kill before our next tour. We'd gotten to know Wilberth quite well by then, having driven around with him for a couple days, so we ended up just kind of hanging out. He had some suggestions like, "Let's go shopping for fruit" and "Let's go see my friend."

He drove us into the tiny nearby town -- where he knew absolutely everybody -- and bought us a bunch of odd looking pieces of produce. Then he took us to his friend's coffee shop where he showed us how to eat the things he'd bought because many Costa Rican fruits require instructions.

Lucien's favorite were the long green things called guaba.

I would not have known to eat the fuzzy white stuff out of the long green guaba
without Wilberth.

This is Wilberth poking his head around the corner of his friend's shop to yell, 

"Hey MJ, come here, my friend wants to make you guys smoothies!" 

Following Wilberth around his town, chatting up his friends, all of whom spoke English, and getting fed weird stuff was more enjoyable than our organized tours. I love getting a sense of the people who live in a place and what their daily lives are like. From what I saw and heard, I suspect Costa Ricans are happier than most.

Thanks for the watermelon juice, Wilberth's smoothie friend, but we had to push on. We had another tour, this one at a large dairy farm close to our lodge.

It was an interesting tour and a beautiful property but the only part that will stick with the kids is they had to milk cows.

The tour guide also made the kids taste the still-warm milk straight out of the cow. They balked at having a second sip until the tour guide stirred a little cocoa powder into it. It's further proof that adding chocolate to just about anything will make kids eat it.

The Poas Volcano Lodge is also a working dairy farm, though much smaller than the one we toured. Wilberth took us on an impromptu tour on the way back to the lodge building but stopped short and turned around when he unwittingly led us into the butchering room.

Coco was very excited

until she saw the dead cow

I then dropped down before them and had an honest talk with my children about how it's good to know the reality of where your food comes from. Wilberth nodded vigorously behind me in support because what else could he do. 

Alex joined us that evening at the lodge and was very impressed with our tales of farms, fruits, hummingbirds, volcanoes, toucans and scary hot water bottles. The next morning we all took a long walk through the farm portion of the lodge's grounds before being driven to our next stop on the itinerary. We had all fallen in love with Costa Rica's mountainous region and wanted to spend a few more minutes enjoying its beauty and tranquility.

Can you see the man walking up the path in the above photo? He was a farm worker hustling up the hill fast as he could go. As soon as he saw us, he began to wave excitedly. A cow was in labor up at the barn, he said, and he was on his way to help her deliver. Would we like to come along and see the birth?  

Would we ever! Who doesn't love watching birth? Nobody can get enough birth.

Bam. Cow coming out of a cow vagina.

My blog posts don't do pretty scenery for long.

The whole birth lasted about five minutes which made me wonder why we don't use the same procedure with humans? Why don't we just tie a rope around their little baby hooves and pull hard? Seems it would save everyone a lot of trouble.

Happy Birthday, little Costa Rican calf.

It's too bad you were born a boy on a dairy farm.

We hope you have stellar genetics so they keep you around 

for breeding purposes.

Sorry to be a downer,

but I've seen things

and I'm just laying some dairy farm truth bombs right now.

We were sad to leave our new friend, Wilberth, and the cows, and the perfection that is the mountainous region of Costa Rica and the Poas Volcano Lodge. But it was time to move on. We had an appointment with another volcano, and the rain forest, and some horses.

This is only about four days into our seventeen-day trip.
Thankfully, everybody loves long vacation posts.
I SAID EVERYBODY.
MJ