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| Bungalow Rana |
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| Nocturnal Jungle Crab |
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| Baby Monkey |
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| Wow |
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| Giant Cockroach |
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| Mating Centipedes |
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| Ferngully Tree |
April 12, Thursday
Today was one of those days that reconfirm the greatness of
life. A spine tingler of a day.
Nature is so strong in this area. Everywhere you go there are animals; monkeys, snakes,
crocodiles, tropical birds. Always
in the background like the hum of a sitar is the combined sounds of millions of
insects singing away their secret songs.
And all of this is set in the unspoiled tropical Caribbean paradise of
Costa Rica’s east coast.
With morning coffee in hand I took a walk around the small
town of Puerto Viejo (not to be confused with the delicious line of wines of
the same name, from Chile), Costa Rica.
The beach right in town is gorgeous. The waters are crystal clear and calm from the off shore
reef that breaks up the waves in the famous surfing spot “Salsa Brava”. I think that it’s called such because
the “Brave Sauce” is the blood of the dudes that get smashed into the reef by
this powerful wave. However, a
surfer I’m not (yet, although I’ve been thinking that I should take some
lessons) and it was already getting hot, so we packed up New Beige and drove
east along the coast to Punta Uva.
Punta Uva is a magical place. It’s without a doubt one of the most beautiful, unspoiled
pieces of Eden still left on this earth.
I feel guilty instantly after writing that because after having only
been there one day I already want to preserve Punta Uva’s natural beauty and
don’t want to see it get over run with concrete footprints.
We got a bungalow (their word, I’m not sure what exactly it
means, its fun to say, but a little embarrassing, the kind of word that you
only want to say in your head, not out loud) at this place called Pacha Mama
run by Bill a nice guy from Chicago who’s into chill music like Widespread
Panic, or so his shirt would have you believe. The place was really nice and well worth the 25,000 colones
($50 US) we paid. This is a
significantly hyer price then we usually pay for places to stay but included
with the cabin (in the JUNGLE with howler monkeys screaming all night, a nice
2-hammock front porch, kitchen with coffee maker, toaster and fridge, big bed
with American style box spring under quality top mattress, mosquito netting
with a full ceiling fan INSIDE the netting) was free breakfast, and use of the
kayak and bicycles.
After unloading all of our gear (backpacks and electronics
suitcase) we decided to go try out the kayak on/in the small river that ran
along the border of the property and out to the Caribbean. There was only one kayak and it was not
a double but Bill said that two people could go on it. So we tried. The boat was only an eit-footer. This is a very small kayak for one person. We tried anyway. With me sitting behind it’s one seat in
the back of the boat and Marcie facing me sitting (backward) eit feet away
perched on the front of the boat, we slid down the muddy embankment with Marcie
clutching her camera to her breast like it was her first-born. This boat was not The Midnite Vulture
and soon she started to take on water.
At first it seemed like maybe it would level out and we would go
upstream with a little water in the bottom. After all, it’s a sit on top kayak. But the water kept rising. Or the boat kept on sinking, which is
really what was happening. So
before the situation got out of control we headed back to our jungle mud dock
and Marcie narrowly escaped with her camera’s life. I headed back out alone and in an act of Zeus himself to
punish Marcie for her unfaithfulness I immediately saw at least 25 turtles on
the short paddle up-stream before the river became too shallow to go any
furthur.
Back at the bungalow Marcie and I got our things together
for a bike ride down to the beach.
There is an amazing amount of sea life in the waters around Punta Uva
and we experienced this by snorkeling.
I really enjoy snorkeling.
I find it very peaceful and at the same time infinitely
interesting. Its kind of like
exploring an new planet that is full of alien life and has a different
gravitational pull. Everything
aquatic was going good until we both started to get the fear. Our backpack containing Marcie’s camera
and my wallet was unguarded on shore.
Once the fear gets a hold on you its hard to calmly reenter the
underwater wonderland. So we swam
back to the beach got our stuff and went for a bike ride down the dirt path
that led along the coast. After
returning to drop our gear off in our room we headed back out to the beach to
get in some more submarine exploration before the sun set. By the time we got out of the water it
was dark.
Back at the bungalow (just can’t stop saying it) we rested
long enough to listen to the jungle insects come on in full evening buzz to
accompany Ravi Shankar, then headed out on bikes for middle eastern food, the
way lit by headlamps. At the
restaurant the owner waitress told Marcie and I, You guys look like you eat a
lot of hummus and falafel. I
didn’t know what to say. No one
had ever said this to me before.
It was only my second time ever eating falafel! What should I do? Should I pretend that yes, I was a
frequent falafel eater so as not to offend our hostess by undermining her
powers of perception? But what if
I get exposed as a falafel fake? I
decided to play it cool and ambiguously nod.
On the bike ride home we stopped to buy beer from a couple
of ganja smoking old men who were sitting around in the dark and Marcie found a
snake on the road. It was decent
sized (2.5 ft) with a diamond stripped black and grey pattern and the narrow
head typical of non-venomous snakes.
That pretty much did it for all of the blogable moments of
the day. We enjoyed our selves so
much here that we decided to cut into our Panama days and stay longer.
Friday the 13th
Both of us were pooped (figuratively) this morning. So figuratively pooped that we could
not drag our pooped butts out of bed in time for yoga. So we just laid there, pooped in
bed.
Alright enough of that.
Breakfast delivered by Bill to our front porch, Marcie;
Banana Pancakes, Me: Veggie Queso Ommmmlet. I tried to ask Bill if there was anyway that I could dispose
of my old motor oil because I wanted to put some fresh stuff in New Beige. But I think that it came out wrong and
I scared him because at the end all he said was Please don’t leave it here.
We rode Bill’s bikes 5 kilometers east down the coast to the
town of Manzanillo. This is a
small coastal village right in the middle of a wildlife preserve. From here we locked up Bill’s bikes and
headed out on foot thru the jungle and across the beach as the trail continued
for a few kilos down the coast. The beach scenery is picture postcard perfect and when the
trail headed back into the jungle to cross some headlands separating two
deserted tropical beaches there is organic life oozing out everywhere. Eventually it got too muddy and buggy
so we turned it around.
Back at our bikes we unlocked and rode away. Some dude hanging out in the parking
lot called out to us Amigo, tu llantara.
I looked down and sure enough my tire was flat. Luckily he had a pump. This may sound like a scam and you’re
probably thinking How much did this guy who probably let the air out of the
tire in the first place and who now conveniently has a bike pump charge for
said pump’s use? Because I know I
was thinking that. But, no
charge. So I can’t figure out why
the guy let the air out of my tire in the first place.
As soon as we biked back to the bungalow we changed up our
gear and peddled down to the playa for some more snorkeling. Just can’t get enough. We tried a new spot around the rocky
point and east down the beach a few hundred kilometers from where we were
yesterday. It was great. We saw tons of fish and swam around for
quite a while.
Dinner was a failure tonite. I won’t go into the details. But we resorted to bread and butter and hardboiled eggs and
had to live like a refugee. It’s
nobody’s fault. Sometimes the best
laid plans of mice and men go awry.
