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)

Mexico City Part Two: Sorry again, Julio

Here comes Part Two.  Mexico City Part One is back here.

A large percentage of life in Mexico City involves sitting in traffic.  If you look at a map, it looks like a short distance from Point A to Point B but don't get optimistic about it -- you're still going to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic for over an hour and ultimately wish you'd never heard of Point B.

There are tricks for avoiding the heaviest traffic, such as driving only between midnight and dawn.  Those are not the friendliest tourist hours, though, so instead Julio and I just said, "mucho trafico" back and forth to each other for long periods of time while staring at some guy's bumper. At least I learned a little Spanish.

A couple days after our arrival in Mexico, we went to Puebla, a city that should take two hours of driving from Mexico City but took us three-and-a-half.  Mucho trafico.

We were in Puebla as guests of one of Alex's co-workers, who grew up there.  The co-worker, whom I'll call Luis, and his wife introduced me to the cubano in Puebla.  A cubano is a beer poured into a glass containing some thick-ish black sauce at the bottom.  I was suspicious, too, until I tried it, but now agree with Mexico that beer should be spicy.

I mentioned the beer first.  That probably says a lot about me.  There are many other fascinating things in the Puebla area besides spicy beer, though perhaps they're not as life-changing --

There are gorgeous churches

and a street devoted entirely to candy
she clutches pesos in her hand
she is ready

and "mystery tunnels" that lie underneath the city

and the very first public library in the Americas
with books over 500 years old

and our hotel, which was a former convent and had a strange window/door thing
Coco claimed it as her own private entrance
and used it often to dance outside the room

Luis drove us to the nearby town of Cholula.  Cholula's defining feature is a huge hidden pyramid. After the conquering Spanish took control of the area, they covered all the pyramids with dirt and built Spanish churches on top of them. That's really rubbing it in, kind of a dick move there, Spanish.

The pyramid at Cholula, the largest pyramid in the world,

 is partially uncovered

but still mostly covered 

by grass, trees, and a dick move church

I was intrigued by the site but, thankfully, did not understand how one accesses the area until we were already in the thick of it.  If I had known, I would not have gone.

The entrance to the Cholula pyramid takes you straight through the pyramid itself -- as in really straight through the pyramid, far underground, through a narrow tunnel with such a low clearance, Alex had to duck for the duration.

I would have been OK, somewhat, if there had been some breathing room but there are lots of people in front of you, lots of people behind you, all moving very slowly.  I'm a claustrophobe, as I've mentioned before, and being in that tunnel with no visible exit in either direction and no possibility of moving faster and surrounded by lots of people may or may not have pushed me to the brink of socially acceptable behavior.

I couldn't speak.  We had a tour guide with us in the tunnel who spoke Spanish.  After every sentence, Alex or Luis would translate for me but I couldn't respond.  I heard very little besides my internal voice screaming, "We're all gonna die!  This is our tomb!"

Welcome to my hell

It took a full twenty minutes to clear the tunnels.  Those were twenty long minutes.  The only thing that kept my rising panic at bay was my faithful iPhone.  I began scrolling through pictures I'd taken so far in Mexico.  As long as I was staring at something else, and not looking around assessing the reality of my situation, I could avoid hyperventilation, clawing a path through strangers, passing out, screaming, whatever.

Alex didn't understand what was going on with me and said at one point, "I cannot believe you're on your phone right now" to which I replied through clenched teeth, "Trust me, you want me on my goddamn phone right now or else I'm going to embarrass us all very, very badly."  He got the hint, even pointed out a few of his favorite pics on my sanity-saving tiny phone screen.

Once we were through the tunnels, I once again loved the idea of visiting the pyramid at Cholula because the place is really, really cool.

I like you, hidden pyramid
but I never again want to walk through you

It was Cholula where we discovered Lucien is a crabby old man trapped in a young boy's body. There was a lot of walking involved up and down the pyramid and at first it was a few quiet, "Gosh, I'm tired"s but soon escalated into full blown "Ow, my hip, my hip!" as he clutched various body parts and hobbled around.

Here he is bemoaning the fact his "lower back ain't what it used to be."

Lucien's injuries disappeared miraculously after we'd finished the tour and purchased his favorite chili lime peanuts.  Lessons learned at Cholula -- iPhones and peanuts can cure serious problems.

We were welcomed warmly back to Mexico City by Julio and Rosa.  As perfect and helpful as they were during our stay, I found it awkward to have people in my employ hanging around the house.  When Julio was not driving us or attending to car-related issues, he hung out in a little room off the kitchen where he read the paper or watched TV. I felt guilty every time he was in the little room because I worried I wasn't using his time and talents effectively.  If it seemed he'd been sitting in the little room a long time, I began flipping through my Mexico City travel books thinking, "I should find someplace to go right now so Julio isn't bored."

One day, out of Julio guilt, we went to Chapultepec Park, a huge park in the center of town that houses museums and a castle, all of which were closed the day I chose to go.  The kids and I instead played Pokemon Go in the park (trust it, we weren't the only ones) and rented a paddle boat to take for a spin in the pond.

Paddle boats kind of suck.  It's a lot of work for not a lot of excitement.  Lucien and I could no longer feel our legs afterwards because you work damn hard on paddle boats, especially when there's a third passenger whose short legs and tiny feet can't reach the pedals so is no help at all.

Free ride

The next day I asked Julio to drive us to Luis's wife's apartment.  We were going to meet up with her and her kids to take a tour of the canals in the Xochimilco area.  Traffic was particularly bad that day so there was a lot of darting on Julio's part.  He got us to her apartment complex in time but was punished for his effective driving when Coco threw up in the back of the car.  The motion sickness runs strong in that one.

As Julio and I bailed from the car and flailed in a parking lot looking for plastic bags and paper towels, she threw up again.  We never made it to Xochimilco.  We instead went home with all the windows rolled down.  Julio drove so slowly, trying so hard not to upset her sensitive equilibrium yet again, that people actually honked at us.  You know you're doing something way wrong if they're honking at you.

Back at home, the kids and I hugged each other and played video games on the Xbox while Julio cleaned up the car. I begged him to let me do it, emphatically and profusely, but he waved me away and said no, no, it's no problem, it's ok.

At least he wasn't bored.


I told you Julio really earned his money that week, and I did not lie.
MJ