Estar como un pulpo en un garaje

Typically, I take pride in trying to blending into the local culture whenever I travel. But for our last hurrah in Costa Rica, we decided to turn truly tourist, thanks mainly to my friend Ellen, who came to visit and encouraged me to do all of the typically cheesy activities that Tim and I would normally avoid. So for this trip, I reveled in blatantly displaying my American-ness: I wore clothes with designer labels, I booked tours and private shuttles on the Internet, and I didn't feel bad about not leading off with Spanish in many interactions. After all, since we are heading back to the States, it was good ethnocentric practice. And, honestly, in the end I didn't mind "being like a octopus in a garage," the Spanish equivalent of the English idiom "sticking out like a sore thumb."

After I picked up Ellen from the airport, I suppose the correct tourist course of action would have been to pick up our rental car. But also being typically cheap Americans, we opted to take the bus to La Fortuna, at the base of the Arenal Volcano. Now, Tim and I have been to the area together twice before, and his family has been there many times. I'm not sure if it's just coincidence, but after Tim mentioned that his mom had brought student groups to a particular restaurant, we got a free flambe dessert.
Our first full day was full of tourist fun. We spent the morning and afternoon riding the Class-III rapids of the Rio Toro, or Bull River, which sounds like it was named with travel brochures in mind. We all stayed in the boat until the very end when our guide Roberto decided to have some fun by making us all crowd on the back of the raft, which created a ride as if we actually were on a bull. Unfortunately, Roberto, Ellen, and I got bucked off. I got a wet wedgie as I was thrown back into the raft, then I had to catch and hold onto a rescue line so our boat wouldn't head past the disembarking area -- the kind of extreme adventure only a tourist can treasure. (Photo courtesy of Desafio Tour Company)
After almost three hours in some pretty chilly and rocky rapids, we headed to the steamy and tranquil waters of Eco-Termales, one of three hot-springs attractions in the Arenal area. With this visit, Tim and I completed the trifecta, so I can say with confidence that although Baldi has more pools and Tabacon has better ambiance, Eco-Termales has the best piña coladas, the required nectar of tropical tourists. (Photo courtesy of Ellen)
The next day, we had some time to kill before our next tourist activity, so we walked (yes, I know we should've taken a taxi) to a nearby swimming hole, where the locals were performing some crazy acrobatic stunts as they dropped from a rope swing into the water. After watching a few of them come quite close to the rocks of the waterfall, I was perfectly happy to not embrace local culture. (Photo courtesy of Ellen)
Our next excursion was quite atypical of my traveling style: I paid someone to take me on a hike. At the volcano, it is necessary to hire a guide if you want to go into the national park, but we didn't even do that; we visited Arenal 1968, a private reserve where you can visit the lava field of the volcano's most destructive eruption, which buried three villages and killed 87 people on July 29, 1968. While there, we discovered that the loud booms we thought were thunder were actually explosions from the crater, spewing out rocks that crash together as they tumble down the volcano.
As we headed further around the volcano in hopes of seeing lava flow, our guide stopped to show us a red-eyed tree frog. As exciting as the animal's eyes were, the red simply could not compare the glow of the sparks on the volcano's face. I have no photographic proof of our sighting because it was hard enough to see with one's own eyes, much less with a camera lens (although that didn't stop many fellow observers from trying to take pictures -- with flash -- a tourist ritual in which I refuse to participate). (Photo courtesy of Ellen)
With nearly all the tourist activities in La Fortuna exhausted, the next day we took the bus to Quepos, on the Pacific coast. We exhibited our American sensibility by finding the first Mexican place we could for lunch, even though we were in an area renown for its local seafood, such as the red snapper on this man's bicycle. But hey, at least we had fish tacos, right? (Photo courtesy of Ellen)
The next day, we went on a canopy tour, during which we were unable to keep from learning about the local culture. As we headed through a plantation, our guide told us about the palm-fruit industry in the area, which flourished after the banana crop was killed off by disease 20 years ago. Despite my American sensibilities, I couldn't help but empathize with the workers, who not only have to risk the venom of snakes that hide in the dead palm leaves on the plantation ground but also have to pull down the fruit manually with a long sickle that would make the Grim Reaper envious.
We braved the Reaper ourselves as we completed the canopy circuit of 10 ziplines, 2 rapels and even a Tarzan swing. After yet another tourist-friendly Costa Rican meal (surprisingly similar to our school lunches), we celebrated cheating death with some beers bought from a bar owned by the family of one of our guides. (Photo courtesy of Canopy Safari)
As if the beers weren't enough, after getting back to town, we went in search of fruity drinks to complement the sunset. We found them at El Avion, a restaurant built around a plane that was funded by the United States during the Iran-Contra affair and that was abandoned at the international airport in Costa Rica. Leave it to some gringos to take a piece of Costa Rica's dirty history (the U.S. built an airstrip in Santa Elena, in the northwest part of the country, to help the Contras strike into southern Nicaragua, but it was never used) and turn it into a nightclub. (Photo courtesy of Ellen)
On our last full day of vacation, we headed to Manuel Antonio National Park, where in the American fashion of lack of class and cash, we didn't hire a guide but simply looked where other group's guides were pointing. In the end, we managed to spot quite a few species on our own, the most ubiquitous of which was the "rowdy American high-schooler," which displayed pre-mating rituals on the park's sandy and swimmable beaches.
But there were some native species as well, such as the three-toed sloth, which is not nearly so slothful when it defers to gluttony.
And when committing the same sin, the white-tailed deer loses much of its shyness.
The white-faced capuchins were the opposite of shy as they boldly stole snacks from sun-bathers. Even this one with a baby was unruffled when we came within feet of it to get photos.
This agouti was more difficult to find, but it exhibited the same politeness in letting us capture it on digital memory card.
Our last spotting, as we headed out of the park, was the blue iguana, which quickly jogged our minds about numerous American bars of the same name.
I thank Ellen immensely for letting us view Costa Rica from a tourist's perspective, which negated some of our lesser attitudes about the country -- at least until we returned to pouring rain in San José, which soaked us as we had to do laundry, get groceries, and find a hot plate to replace our sole and now non-functioning source for cooking. Costa Rica, it's a great place to visit, but sometimes I wouldn't want to live there.

Deja de dar leña al mono

This phrase literally translates to “stop hitting the monkey with firewood,” which might be what you want to tell me after this, the third blog post about my spring break trip, because its English equivalent is “stop beating a dead horse.” It's fitting that both of these idioms involve animals, because that's what this post is about. I'd say more than half the photographs I came home with were of animals, or at least some plant that purportedly contained some. The following are the photos that most clearly display more fauna than flora. 

Costa Rica has more butterfly gardens than Ohio has auto-parts stores. And the one we visited was behind a restaurant where we ate for lunch. Despite the odd location, it was pretty cool to be so close to so many varieties of butterflies. I found it interesting that most of the species tended to be attracted to the flowers that resembled them, like this orange-on-orange action. Maybe the animal kingdom isn't as color blind as we like to claim. Butterflies aren't the only diverse insects in Costa Rica; there are plenty of arachnids to go around. Unfortunately, they don't tend to be attracted to flowers, but to human abodes, as I can attest to from the abundance near our apartment. This one was a bit close for comfort as well, because it had built a web large enough to trap a person outside our cabin in Tortuguero. Luckily, every time I checked, it was always in its web. Next, we move to reptiles, the most prolific species of which seemed to be lizards. We saw plenty of iguanas, including dozens in a tree on our way to Rio San Juan. This Jesus Christ lizard was hanging out on the banks of the river. The running joke about its name is that when you see one, you say, "Jesus Christ, did you see that lizard!" But really, the nickname comes from the fact that they can run on water, much like the Christian figure did at the Sea of Galilee. We didn't see as many snakes as lizards, although they are just as ubiquitous. Costa Rica has some of the most venomous species in the world, including the highly aggressive fer-de-lance. This snake from the canals at Tortuguero is not near as threatening, but in the rainforest by Arenal, we also saw the dangerous pit viper, which much to my dismay was the size of a garter snake, about as small as the dead snakes I have seen around our property. The best animal that I saw and photographed in Tortuguero had to be a caiman. This one was hiding out in some rushes by the bank, but when we approached, he dove into the water and came within 2 feet of our boat. I think he might've been coming for me; I mean, look at the evil eye he is giving me and my camera. In truth, caimans don't eat humans; they're not big enough, like their crocodile cousins. They mainly eat other reptiles, amphibians, fish, and water birds, like this one that was hanging out, totally undisturbed with a caiman a few feet away. I didn't get a photo of that caiman because he was hiding out so well, lying in wait for a good meal, I imagine. I also don't remember the name of this bird, but I call him "caiman chow." Later on in the day, when we took a boat ride further into the canals, our guide spotted a houtou. I had become pretty good at spying herons and egrets, but I would've never found this bird. Apparently, seeing a houtou is a treat for bird watchers because it is so well camouflaged and lives deep in the forest, but not being an ornithophile myself, I wouldn't know. As just a regular schmoe, though, I did find its timber mimicry pretty amazing. On the other hand, we saw so many anhingas that they began to seem pedestrian; actually, you can find them in Florida, so they are pretty common. Nonetheless, I find it fascinating that they don't have the oil to make their feathers waterproof so they must dry their wings before flying. That means they have to sun themselves between every meal they catch. Can you imagine if people had to go to the tanning salon after every stop at the drive-thru? Kingfishers are found troughout the Americas, too, but Costa Rica is special enough to have all six types of them living in country. We saw three of the six during our ride on the Rio San Juan: the green, belted, and Amazon varieties. I'm not sure which one this is, because the three vary only slightly in color and crest, but I can tell you it is real, even though it looks like a wood-carved model you would put in your yard. When a fellow tour member went running while we were at the Hanging Bridges in Arenal, because she saw a big, colorful bird, I was hoping it was a quetzal, one of the most unique-looking but hard-to-spot endangered birds. I was only slightly disappointed when I discovered a pair of blue macaws instead. Blue macaws aren't endangered, but they have dwindled in population in Costa Rica, so there is an effort to reintroduce mating pairs to the wild. Macaws mate for life, and they can live for up to 70 years, so there's a good chance the population will recover, as long as divorce remains taboo in avian society. Birds aren't the only cool flying creatures in Costa Rica. These bats, which our guide on the Rio San Juan pointed out, are camouflaged even better than the houtou. See those six bumps that make the tree look like it has teeth? Those are actually bats. Although I wasn't quick enough to get photographic proof, I was able to verify the veracity of the guide's assertion when he provoked them into flapping their wings a bit. The bats ranked pretty high on my list of favorite animal sightings, but when it comes to the ones I was able to capture on film, nothing beats the howler monkey. Oh sure, I've seen the spider monkeys scramble over my head and I've even heard the howler monkeys grunt at me from a disconcerting distance, but this was the first time I was able to get a full frontal photo. And trust me, this guy clearly voiced his objection to giving us a free publicity shot. In the end, we didn't get to see a jaguar attacking a tapir as it was being eaten by an anaconda, as we had hoped, but our Costa Rican safari was still more than satisfactory.

Dando por sentado

When Spanish speakers accuse someone of doing this, they literally mean that person is "giving for seated" something, or "taking it for granted." I believe I am not alone in "giving for seated" one of my typical breakfast foods: bananas. During a short stop at a banana-packing facility, I quickly realized that this fruit, which is so easy to eat, is quite difficult to produce. 

I'm not even going to address the effort required to start a banana plantation. I'll just pretend some Juanny Bananaseed magically planted pairs of trees and dug ditches for drainage in fields across Latin America. But then the work begins, first with the effort of keeping the plants pest-free. Planes are used to drop pesticides on the fields, but individual bunches of bananas also are wrapped in bags -- by hand -- to protect the fruit from infestation. 

When the fruit is ready for harvest, while the bananas are still green, workers hack off the bunches with machetes. Then, to add insult to injury, they have to cut down the whole tree so its planted partner can grow while it recovers. Each bunch of bananas is carried to -- by hand -- and hung on a rolling hook attached to an extensive maze of overhead tracks, which lead to the packaging building. The bunches of bananas are dragged to the building by human power, not motors. And by bunch, I don't mean the amount we usually buy at the store, but tiers of "feet" on a single stem that can weigh upwards of 100 pounds. Workers have to use all their strength to get the momentum to pull the stems --by hand -- to the facility, which can be multiple kilometers away. Then the tiers are cut off the stems -- by hand -- and thrown into pools of water to wash off dirt and insects that were able to get through the protective blue-bag covering. The tiers are then cut apart -- by hand -- by women who determine within a split second of sight what grade each banana is, based on its length and peel condition. The lowest-quality bananas are thrown into the overhead conveyor belt, which delivers the fruit to a truck that takes them directly to local stores. These "rejects" are given away for next to free, then resold for only slightly more, and let me tell you, they are even better than the ones you get in the States because they are fresher. The two higher grades of bananas continue to be prepared for export. They are sprayed -- finally, not by hand -- with solution that seals them off from pests and bruises during shipment. Yes, even the stickers are labor-intensive because they are put on -- by hand! The top-grade bananas are labeled Chiquita, and the second level gets a variety of brand names. But in the end, they all come from the Chiquita farm, and if even the rejects taste good, is it really necessary to pay extra for a prettier sticker? Last but not least, the bananas are packed into boxes -- by hand -- for export. The boxes of fruit are shipped both by land and sea into the United States. The duration of delivery is about about a month, which is why the bananas are shipped while they are still green, so they will be the perfect ripeness when they appear in your produce department. All this work, just to create a food that takes only the effort of an easy peel to eat. Perhaps the next time you complain about a brown spot, you won't take that for granted.

Tirando por el atajo

This phrase, which literally means "pulling the shortcut," is the Spanish equivalent of "taking the easy way out," which I definitely did for this year's spring break. For the first time in a few years, I didn't go "out" anywhere because I stayed in Costa Rica. And the 10-day tour included a lot of long bus rides that I would hardly call "shortcuts." I didn’t have enough time or energy to plan a trip for myself, much less for my father and his girlfriend, so I signed up for something I normally dislike: an organized tour. 

Usually, I think such tours are too confining for my traveling style, but this time, it was the best choice to see a lot of the country in a short amount of time, without having to arrange all the details. After spending a night in San José, we took a day trip to Volcán Póas, an active volcano just north of the capital. We were lucky enough to have clear weather, so we could see the highly acidic lake in the volcano’s crater. If we hadn’t been able to see, though, we still would’ve been able to smell the sulfur of the surrounding fumaroles. On the way back from the volcano, we stopped for lunch, where we saw a traditional indigenous dance. At one point, two tribe members aggressively danced to dispel the evil jaguar spirit. Although not yet invented in tribal times, Velcro came in handy as the two women ripped off their skirts for a butt-shaking native boogie. Apparently, Velcro is a Costa Rican tradition because it was used for the same purpose in three other shows we saw during the trip. The next day, we left our hotel for Tortuguero National Park. On the way, we stopped by a banana plantation, where we saw every part of the harvesting and packing process, from hacking down the fruit to smacking on the Chiquita stickers (see my post "Dando por sentado"). After one and a half hours on a boat, we made it to our isolated lodge in the national park. We were greeted by howler monkeys prowling around the turtle-shaped pool. At that same poolside, we would later see people acting like monkeys as they tried to dance the mambo and limbo. The next day we saw rarer wildlife as we took two rides through the intracoastal channels (see my post "Deja de dar leña al mono"). We also stopped at the Caribbean Conservation Corporation to hear about the protection of the nesting green turtles. It was neither egg-laying nor hatching season, but we swung by the beach to see their habitat anyway. We retraced our route out of Tortuguero to go to Volcán Arenal, a volcano so active that it frequently shoots lava and constantly is monitored for an eruption. People are not allowed to get near its crater; nevertheless, our luck with the weather allowed us to see its distinctive conical shape. Our day trips from Arenal included a soak in the Baldi hot springs and a ride on the Rio San Juan, a thoroughfare to Nicaragua. As we stopped at the official border, a water bus bringing passengers from Nicaragua passed by. While circling Lake Arenal on our way to the Pacific coast, we stopped at the Hanging Bridges attraction, where we crossed six suspension bridges leading us through the rain forest. I couldn’t get very many pictures of the bridges’ height off the ground because I was afraid I would drop my camera when they swayed. We made it to our Marriott resort just south of Tamarindo right before sunset on Playa Mansita. We took a morning nature walk in the area, but only a fourth of the group showed up. Most people just wanted to relax in the resort’s extensive pool. We did the same later in the day after getting scared by the rough undertow on nearby Playa Avellanas. The last full day was a long trek back to the capital, with some stops to assuage us with ice cream and souvenirs. If that wasn’t enough, at our farewell dinner that night, we were served filet mignon. Truly, I couldn’t have planned it any better myself.

Tener mas lana que un borrego

This phrase is the Spanish equivalent of to be filthy rich, literally meaning to “have more wool than a lamb,” as do the people who hosted us during our recent long weekend in Guatemala. Accustomed to our bare-bones backpacking, the royal treatment was shocking at first, but after a few days, we were more than happy to be shepherded around in luxury. After a delicious steak dinner, a delightful night's sleep and a delectable steam shower, we left for the journey from Guatemala City to Lago de Atitlán in our host's bullet-proof SUV. The weather was cloudy, so our hosts drove with us, instead of taking their helicopter. Despite the vehicle's extra-largeness, I had to squeeze into the third-row seat, leaving no room for their bodyguard. Had our hosts not generously provided our transportation, our safety would not have been so ensured, as we might have opted for one of the ubiquitous chicken buses. After our hosts told us about how the bus drivers, competing for business, try to beat each other from one stop to the next -- disregarding the no-passing lines on windy, hilly roads -- even we decided to splurge on the $6 tourist minibus to get from the lakeside city of Panajachel to Antigua, during our self-guided portion of the trip. The SUV ride ended at a launch where we transferred to our second mode of transportation, our host's motorboat, to get to their lakeside retreat. The view from this craft was even more stunning, what with the lack of those ammunition-repellent lines. While our host was giving us a lift to Panajachel the next day, so we could catch the bus to Antigua, we swung by San Santiago de Atitlán, where a fisherman hopefully was bringing home his catch to fill one of the many morning oven fires that wafted a romantic haze over Volcán Tolimán in the distance.

We could catch glimpses of the volcano from our bus as we left Panajachel, but for some reason, the overall panorama wasn't nearly as appealing. When there wasn't a sign or a bush blocking the view, then there would be some man leaning over the guardrail, just in time to document an unflattering butt shot.

The sights provided by our hosts once stationary were extraordinary as well. Walking up bunches of terraced steps from the boat dock to the house balcony was well worth the quad burn. Even with the lake clouded over (anti-helicopter weather), it still lived up to Aldous Huxley's description: "on the limit of permissibly picturesque." Later, the clouds that covered Volcán de Agua, which towers over the Antigua skyline, didn't permit as stunning a scene. And besides, the cost to get into the San Francisco ruins was the equivalent of 50 cents, more than the free workout at the lake, and not nearly as thigh-toning. By evening at the lake, the clouds started to clear, unluckily just after sunset, but there was a nice afterglow, made even more impressionable by its reflection off our host's almost-infinity pool. Our hosts said they don't swim in the lake, because they believe it's polluted, but if you had this heated bath of tranquilty, would you?

The only water we saw at night in Antigua was from the fountain in the city's central park. Its basin does not afford calming vistas of the sunset, and as far as I know, it is not heated, but it does have some pretty interesting sculpted features, like the female figures with jets of water shooting from their nipples.

While we were at our host's lakehouse, we mainly just sat and looked around. To break up the monotony, we ate and drank. Nothing says high living like having drinks on a veranda that was featured in a coffee-table book about great Guatemalan architects. And to accommodate for all those balcony beers, the bathroom had not one, but two, toilet-paper holders, ensuring that the most important party staple is always in abundant supply.

Our hosts' tastes tilted toward the international: American barbequed chicken and Italian pressed paninis for meals and European new-age covers of classic rock ("Back in Black" by AC/DC and "Patience" by Guns 'n' Roses, to name a few) for music. We didn't get authentic Guatemalan food and entertainment until we reached Antigua, where Tim tried the traditional chicken stew called pepian while a duo strummed and crooned out ballads in Spanish.

So for a few days, we were "apaleando oro," or "beating gold," otherwise known as "rolling in dough." And although it was a little difficult to give up our instinctual independence while traveling, the free transportation, lodging and food made it a whole lot easier.