Sunday, October 27, 2013

Don't Worry, Be Happy

I thought that upon moving to the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica I would undergo an artistic awakening, elevating my status of creativity to that of Van Gogh, Jackson Pollock, Salvador Dali, and Timothy Henry. I imagined that the lush jungle, filled with vibrantly colored flowers, exotic animals, and rare and exquisite birds would inspired in me paintings and art projects of epic proportions. The drive from California to the end of the road in Manzanillo was meant to stir to life hidden talents and untouched magic dwelling deep inside my self conscience.

This was not the case.

In my old apartment in Oakland, I spent many a nights sitting around with close friends painting anything and everything we could get our hands on, but I didn't feel like I was making any art that was truly great. Night after night, sitting on the floor, re-purposing someone elses trash into useful, colorful items for my house, I still felt stifled. It was like I couldn't breath. But in hindsight, the out pour of creative energy was massive. My friends and I would sit there for hours, listening to music and creating, so many different things that the house began to overflow with items we had painted, sewn, modge-podged, cut-up, and glued back together.

I have begun to realize why I was so inspired in Oakland and can't seem to pick up a paint brush in the Caribbean. I'm happy. I don't want to make a huge generalization about artitsts, but a large majority of great art is born out of great strife. Pain, misery, discontent, frusturation, these emotions lend an edge to us, which greats a dynamic, whereby we feel the need to express ourselves. For me, being unhappy in Oakland pushed me to create, and to write. It's this same, strange feeling of happiness that has lead to my writer's block. If I'm not complaining about the state of the world, the state of my country, or my city, or the state of my own mental health, what am I really talking about? And why? Who wants to read about someone who is so damn happy?

Another identity crisis has been born out of my newfound joy. For years I have been the friend that you come to with your problems. I'm really good at listening to people's problems, issues, helping them through hard times, giving them advice on how to change their life. My ability to empathize and relate to my friends through their dark times felt like my greatest talent that I had to offer, and I believe (who knows, though I could be wrong), that I helped a lot of people kickstart the next chapter in their life and deal with some of the challenges they were facing. Since leaving behind my own angst and dispair, I feel I am also losing this talent as well.

It's not that I can no longer empathize with others about their issues, it's just that I can't relate as much anymore. When I hear my friends complaining about their problems, I feel a disconnect.

I don't have anymore problems.

Sure, some things happen, like my dog getting sick and throwing up all night long. Or rain the day I did laundry so my clothes have to stay on the line for another sunny day. Sometimes the internet goes out and I have to go to my friend's hostel to do my online work, but other than that, I have no problems. My relationship is great. My house is great. My job is great. I love my life. My family is happy and healthy. My dogs get a walk to the beach everyday. My life is good. I live in the Caribbean and I ride my bike around this whacky little town that I now call home.

The only thing I have to complain about, is that I have nothing to complain about. And so begins the deconstruction of the narrative of my life as I have known it. Growing up in the United States it seems there are always problems. Big problems, national problems, crime, unemployment, poverty, over-crowded prisons, natural disasters, political scandals, divorce rates on the rise, illiterate children, teen moms, the list of horrible problems goes on and on. So, we as individuals are conditioned to believe that our lives are filled with insurmountable problems that also need solving before the next problem arises. My existence, up until now, has been problem solving, for myself and my friends. And when a problem was so great that I could not solve it, the emotions associated with that problem spilled out in the form of paint, poetry, and passion.

I'm not saying moving to a new place will immediately solve all your problems. A new location doesn't mean all your deep-seeded issues just melt away, but it can change the narrative that you've created for yourself. I'm not endorsing running away from your problems, either. That doesn't tend to work. But if there is a life you've envisioned for yourself, and you're not living it, find a way to make it happen. Define your own reality.

Maybe it's all the sunshine down here, all the tanned, attractive people biking around in bathing suits, or the fact that it's always happy hour at some bar in town. Maybe it's the organic vegetables and chicken that I eat, or the fresh seafood. Maybe it's the hummingbirds that come and say good morning every day while I sit on my porch. Who knows what is responsible for all this damn happiness. All I know is life is good. Now, I just need to find a way to create art out of this new-found happiness and see if joy can be just as responsible for great works of art as angst is.

Have a listen to this today, and Don't Worry, Be Happy.


Monday, August 12, 2013

I'm going, going, back back to Cali, Cali!

Plane tickets are booked and my affairs are in order. Well, that's not true, I have a lot of affairs to handle before my trip home in a few weeks. I have to change my bus ticket that proves I'm leaving Costa Rica after 3 months, per the law, book my shuttle and my hostel for my two nights in San Jose on either end of my trip, and move to a new house, but that will all take care of itself somehow, I'm sure. So, at least the plane tickets are booked!

My little nephew!!!!!!
My 2 week California adventure begins in Irvine with my sister, my brother-in-law, and my new nephew! I get to meet the little guy for the first time. He was born on July 5th so he will officially be 2 months, minus 1 day old, when I meet him. So excited to hold the little guy! I get to spend one week with the little man and begin my role as Cool Aunt Liz, or Crazy Aunt Liz, whichever seems more appropriate.

After my week in Irvine, I book it to Oakland and Martinez for a week of quality time with friends and parents. I'll stay in my old apartment, which 2 of my friends moved into when Jahsiah and I left for this crazy adventure. I'll get to go through some boxes of stuff that I left behind and determine if anything is worth bringing back down to the jungle. See friends, see folks, eat food that I've been missing, and be a city girl for a few days, before returning to my funky little beach town, hidden in the jungles of Costa Rica.

I did a whirlwind trip to Southern California back in March, returning for a family birthday party, for both my Grandpa and my Aunt. I was only there for 3 days, still managed to see almost my whole family on my Dad's side, and 2 of my best friends, Kat and Joanna, who happened to be in LA for a wedding event that weekend. It was crazy and fast paced, and while 2 weeks isn't a very long trip, it's going to seem like ages compared to the 3 days I spent in California a few months ago.
Me, Kat, and Joanna, lucky enough to spend one day together back in March.

Celebrating my Grandpa's and my Aunt Marilyn's Birthdays!!!!

I'm a little worried that I'm going to feel totally overwhelmed by life in California after almost 8 months living in the Caribbean. Life moves slowly down here, there is only one road, off of which all points of interest are located. I haven't seen or heard a commercial or a newspaper in a long time. There are no homeless people harassing me on the street when I have to go run an errand by myself. No parking tickets, no stop lights, no car alarms, no Starbucks, McDonalds, Chevrons, or any chain of any kind.


I might freak out. I probably will freak out. But I'm excited for a few things that I've started to get homesick for. While there a lot of things that I don't love about California and the Bay Area, there a lot of things that I do love, and miss, so here's a little list of things I want to do when I'm home:

  • Drink good beer! In Costa Rica, there is a very limited selection of beer. Imperial, Pilsen, Imperial Silver, Pilsen Frost, Imperial Light. They are all very light, and I believe they are actually all the same beer, with different labels to make you feel like you have options. I can't wait to go to a bar, order something strong, an IPA, a red ale, a porter, a brown ale, probably one of each. Something on tap, not in a bottle and sip that beer, hopefully sitting outside feeling the California sun on my shoulders.
  • Sip on some whiskey. Don't get me wrong, Guaro, Costa Rican cane alcohol, has it's time and place, and doing shot after shot on a Tasty Tuesday can be fun. But man, I'm ready for a shot of Maker's Mark that I can slowly sip on while sitting with my good friends and hearing about their lives over the past few months.
  • East Chinese food. I want an egg roll. Enough said.
  • Sit on my old stoop. My apartment in Oakland was home for 4 years, and while I was super ready to leave after those 4 years, that stoop holds many great memories for me. Long nights with friends, watching the sun come up, talking to the neighborhood folk as they pass by at all hours of the nights, mini therapy sessions to help everyone work out the awkwardness that are our 20's, hearing the mailbox vibrate from the music that is playing from Jahsiah's old studio, admiring the garden that we built with the help of so many people. That stoop, more so than any other place in Oakland, represents home. And I want to sit on it with my friends!
  • See a play at Altarena. For over 3 years I worked as the Box Office Manager for the Altarena Playhouse in Alameda. I LOVED that job! Being surrounded by people that love the arts, that are passionate about what they are doing, the energy there was great and through that job I meet so many wonderful people, too many names to list. High up on that list is Star Valdez. And it just so happens, serendipitously, that I will be in Oakland for the closing weekend of The Odd Couple. I already have a date night planned with Kat to volunteer as wine pourers and see the show one night. High Street, my old stomping grounds! Get ready, I'm coming!
  • Backyard BBQ. Fall in the Bay Area is the best time of year. Summer doesn't really hit until September and October, when the weather is at it's best, which means BBQs. My friends don't know this yet, but someone is going to throw a BBQ for me in their backyard, or maybe their front yard depending on who the lucky volunteer is. I want to have a day, since I really only have 1 week and that's not a lot of time to try and see everyone I love, where all my friends can come over, hang out, drink beer, play games, shot the shit, and eat good food. All the things that we do best. I have already been imagining this day and how much fun it's going to be. SO. EXCITED.
Now, there are a lot of other things that I really want to do while I'm in California. I want to see as much of my family and friends as is possible. I want to eat frozen yogurt with my sister. I want to go to the secret, silent hot tubs in Berkeley. I want to meet Kat's new dog and take her for a walk. I want to meet Joanna's roommates and see her new apartment. The list is getting pretty long the more I think about it. But, since I'll be arriving with just a backpack, not a lot of money, no wheels or mode of transportation, I'm going to be up for whatever. I figure I'll be like a pinball, and just bounce around wherever other people push me, and that's totally fine!

When I left Oakland, I was burnt on the place. But now after so many months and my upcoming trip, I'm becoming nostalgic for certain Oakland experiences. That's one of the greatest parts about traveling, you remember to love your home again. As always, I'll be sad leaving my dogs, and this time my boyfriend as well. But I think this trip will be really good for me to gain some more perspective as to what I'm doing in Costa Rica in the first place and what I hope to accomplish in the next few years of my life. Regardless of how it all works out, it's going to be a fun trip.

So mark your calenders, California! Liz Moore touches down on September 4th in Irvine and September 10th in Oakland. Get ready!!!!!!

P.S. Who wants to pick me up from the airport?

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Chocolate, Chocolate, and more Chocolate!

I have been off work for the past week, enjoying some down time while the boys I work with are on a surf vacation in Nicaragua. We spent one week doing renovations at the bar and restaurant, Tasty Waves, giving the place a much needed make over. Since Wednesday, while the rest of the Tasty Waves front of house staff have been surfing and enjoying some Nicaraguan beach time in San Juan de Sur, I have been reveling in my free time. I have slept a lot, like, a lot a lot. Most days I've been sleeping about 11 hours, which has been fabulous! I love to sleep, and I love to wake up whenever I want, not to the sound of a little phone beeping at me. But, I did decide to take a break from all my sleeping and enjoy one of the activies of the Southern Caribbean, The Caribeans Chocolate Tour.

Caribeans is a bean-to-bar chocolate and coffee lounge. It's where Jahsiah and I sell the focaccia bread that we make. The owner, our friend Paul, had invited us a while back to join him on the tour so we could learn more about his operation. The chocolate at Caribeans comes from their farm, which is behind the coffee shop, about a 30 minute walk up the road, into the jungle. We decided the Saturday, 2pm tour would work best for our schedule and we meet at Caribeans, ready to taste some chocolate. Jeff, co-owner of the Caribeans operation, was our tour guide, and the other tour members consisted of a family from Texas, Mom, Dad, and daughter Chloe. We began our walk up the hill, a bit of a hill but still nothing compared to our driveway, and we quickly came upon our first cacao tree. The fruit of the tree is about the size of a mango, but looks a bit more like a sqaush, with a ridged surface. The fruit doesn't grow in the tops of the tress like most fruit, but rather sticks out oddly from different parts of the trunk. It doesn't look at all like chocolate.

Jeff pointed out the cacao tress and also taught us about other trees we were encountering, pointed out a few poison dart frogs that we passed, and showed us where we could probably locate sloths, based on which leaves they like to eat. As we ascended to the top of the hill,with howlers monkeys serenading our ascent,  we learned about the history of cacao. It originated in South America, most likely Venezula, and was transported by way of trade up through Central America and into Southern Mexico. Cacao used to be currency and was valued higher than gold. It became the drink of the gods and the Aztecs drank it ceremoniously. It dates back to 1,500 B.C.E. and remains of it have been founded in pottery DNA in Guatemala and other locations. Based on the origins of chocolate and the likely trade routes of pre-Colombian people, the Southern Caribbean was a probable stop on the chocolate road. When we reached the summit of the hill, with a view of the Caribbean Sea (the best view I've seen since we arrived here 5 months ago), I felt a little bit like Aztec nobility, ready to drink my beverage of the gods.


The beans inside the fruit. Photo courtesy of someoneone else, because I forgot my camera.
Jeff showed us how the beans, found inside the fruit, are removed, by hand, no fancy machines at this farm, and placed in a hole in the ground. The hole, with the beans inside, is covered and left for 2 days to begin the fermenting process. After 2 days, the beans are stirred and moved to another hole for 2 more days. This process is repeated one more time and then the beans are moved to trays to dry. The fermenting process takes 6 days, and the drying process takes 5 days, after which you have a dried chocolate bean, which looks something like a coffee bean, but much bigger. We learned that chocolate, in it's pure form, before Hersey gets a hold of it and ruins it, is so high in anti-oxidants that just two chocolate beans is comparable to 4 cups of blueberries. That's right, I said it, chocolate is good for you!

We then moved over to the tasting deck where the real fun began. Sitting on a wooden porch, over looking the panoramic sea view, we began our chocolate experience. Caribeans grows and harvests their own chocolate, but they also purchase beans from other farms in the area that don't have their own workshop to turn the chocolate from a bean into a bar. And since the trees only fruit about every 4 months, having several sources of beans helps them keep up with demand. We sampled chocolate from Bananito, Cocles, Hone Creek, and the Kekoldi  Indigenous Reserve. Each piece of chocolate was 72% cacao and 28% local sugar cane. Each one tasted so different! Jeff had us break the piece of chocolate to listen for the different "Snaps!" that the chocolate made. Then we smelled them, took small bites, savoring each piece and describing the different, unique tastes that each chocolate had. The different tastes could be from the soil where the trees are grown, the about of humidity in the air, or differences in the fermenting and drying processes. After we sampled the 4 chocolates on their own, we were given the Caribean's version of the Aztec ceremonial chocolate drink. Pure cacao, hot water, cayenne, vanilla, and honey all mixed together, served warm in little glasses. The heat of the cayenne plus the strong chocolate instantly made me feel powerful and ready to take on the world. No wonder it was the drink of the gods and consumed regularly by those wealthy enough to afford it.

We chased our chocolate shooters with, you guessed it, more chocolate! The same 4 chocolates we had tried before, were brought again, this time in smaller pieces, along with 2 trays of herbs and spices. One tray had cinamon, cayenne, curry, sea salt, black pepper, and ground coffee while the other had peppermint, ginger, lemongrass, cilantro, oregano, vanilla, and garlic. Yes folks, that right, raw, minced garlic. We were told to take pieces of the chocolate and make our own flavor combinations. One of my favorite was the garlic and curry powder combined. The ginger and lemongrass was also really good. And I liked the vanilla and cayenne. Ok, I liked all the combinations I tried. Who isn't going to like chocolate, plus amazing spices and herbs? And, the herbs all came from the little herb garden right next to the tasting deck.

So, hoped up on chocolate, we proceeded down to the workshop to see where the magic happens. Paul built the workshop himself with the intention of doing everything as low-tech as possible so that the process can be taught and replicated to other small cacao farmers. In the workshop, the beans are roasted, just like coffee beans and then the outer shells are removed in a grinder of sorts. Once the chocolate has been sifted from the shell, it gets put in what is called a melanger. This is sort of like a huge mortar and pestle, which grinds the coffee for about 72 hours until the natural oils begin to heat up and the roasted chocolate bean litteraly turns to liquid. That's it, nothing added, no water, no milk, no other liquid, just the dried bean, ground for 3 days, and BAM! Liquid gold! At this point in the process, you can add other flavors if you like, and this is usually when the 28% sugar gets up in the mix. We got to dip spoons straight into the melanger and lick off pure, fresh, warm chocolate, a la liking the cookie dough out of the bowl, or cleaning the brownie residue off the spoon, but let me tell you Toll House doesn't have diddly sqaut on Caribeans!
Roasted beans, also not my photo, because I suck at remembering to take my camera anywhere!


With one last treat, a sneak peak at a new flavor Paul is working on, we sampled a chai chocolate bar, which was delicious, and began our descent from chocolate heaven. Empowered by all that chocolate, the walk back was quick and we made it down the hill just before it started raining. The family from Texas had a great time and the little girl got her fill of chocolate. Jahsiah, who never liked chocolate before coming here and trying real chocolate, was excited to have learned more about the history of where we are, and I was simply content to have done something other than make drinks on a Saturday afternoon. We thanked Paul and Jeff and headed to the car, wanting to get home and feed the dogs.

It was a great experience to finally go on the chocolate tour. So much fun to learn about the history of cacao, the history of the area, explore a different part of this rich land, and taste so many delicious things. If you ever find yourself in the Puerto Viejo area, you have to do the Caribeans Chocolate Tour. You'll leave feeling god-like and with a suitcase filled with chocolate bars for your friends and family back home. That is if you can manage to not eat all the chocolate before you do, in fact, return home.


**Caribeans offers tours Tuesdays and Thursdays at 10am and 2pm
                                  Saturday at 2pm
The price is $26 per person. Reservations not required but recommended for large groups or for times other than listed.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Make Room Heaven, You've Got a New Ambassador!

Last night I watched a movie which wasn't particularly good, and I can't even tell you what it's called. But there was this scene, where a woman was crying after she had left her husband who she discovered had been cheating on her. And I thought to myself, it's been a long time since I've cried like that, or been sad enough to cry like that. I mean a real emotional breakdown. As odd as it sounds, I was a little jealous. To be so sad, to shed tears and feel pain of loss means you have loved something so much, that's the only way to create such sorrow. The past six months have been so great for me, finally driving to Costa Rica, finding a beautiful house, making new friends and getting an awesome job, I haven't had a reason to be sad in quite some time; until today.

This morning I checked my email and found a message from a old co-worker of mine from my job at The Altarena Playhouse. She was informing me of our good friend Rick James' failing health. He had been battling cancer, brain tumors, for the past few years and according to his girlfriend, was nearing the end of his journey. His girlfriend was urging those who loved him to send him letters, cards, or visit him to say goodbye. This news wasn't unexpected. He knew for quite sometime now that his cancer was terminal. As I sat down an hour later to write him an email, I saw another email that Rick has passed away this morning, peacefully, surrounded by loved ones.

Rick James came to be the Ambassador for The Altarena Playhouse around the same time that I began working there as the Box Office Manager in January of 2010. He had been involved with the playhouse before, but he created the role of Ambassador for himself, helping out with front of house duties, pouring wine, getting our season ticket holder numbers up from 600 when I started to over 800 by the time I left. He had a name tag and all, and he would wear it out around town in Alameda, where he was known and loved by many through his job as a middle school teacher, his involvement at church and his general friendliness.

Rick was one of those great people to be around. Always helpful in anyway possible. Eager to lend a hand, do a favor, excited to hear your stories and tell you his. He really came out of his shell in the years that I knew him. When our theater did its production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, he came dressed in fishnet stalkings and a lab coat every night. He always encouraged his students to come see shows and rewarded them with extra credit for being involved in and attending the theater. He knew how to have a good time, he loved wine and good food. He loved the arts, music, theater, song. He loved going to church. He loved teaching and being around his students. He kept doing everything he loved right up until the end. He knew his life was coming to an end, but he lived every last moment of it, and his energy rubbed off on everyone around him.

I didn't get to write him an email telling him how much he meant to me. I didn't get to say goodbye. I hate that. I don't doubt that he knew how much I loved him. He knew he was loved by a great many people. He was a good person, a special person. It's just always so hard to know that bright lights go dim before they should.

Today has been the coldest day I've experienced since I got to Costa Rica. I woke up to the rain. Recieved the sad news, and have been spending some time looking at old pictures and thinking fondly of my time with Rick. I feel blessed to have met him, and privledged to have been able to call him my friend. I feel sorry for those who did not know him, and I feel sorry for the community he is leaving behind. The rain hasn't stopped all day and I think the jungle is crying with me, aware that a beautiful soul has left us.

I'm drinking a bottle of cheap white wine, which Rick would have hated, he preferred reds. But I know he would have drank it with me anyways. Here's to you Rick James! I know Heaven has one hell of an Ambassador!
At the Cast Party for The Fantastiks

Monday, April 22, 2013

Needing Inspiration

I'm finally getting over being sick. I was really quite sick for about 2 weeks, while I was just starting at my new job. So, between training at Tasty Waves, running in and out of the bathroom, and sleeping for hours on end, I feel a little behind in day to day life. As happens, I got better. And with feeling better, I am feeling renewed, ready to seize the day! But, I need inspiration. Now, that might sound crazy living in the jungle, surrounding by amazing plants and animals and meeting new, crazy, interesting people all the time, but it's true, I need inspiration.

I went through some old poems today, ones I had written for an elite Facebook group that was formed way back when, The Poet Laureates of West Oakland. While the other poems are not up for grabs of reposting, as the group is private and respectful, I decided to post two of mine to this blog, so that more people than just our group members can give them a read. Please, if you have any poetry or creative writing that you would like to share with me, send it my way!

My goals for the next few weeks regarding creativity are:
  • Complete one of the mixed media collages for Kickstarter Fullfillment
  • Write one new poem to be posted in Poet Laureates of West Oakland and also on this blog
Let's see how I do!

 Untitiled
Still striving to survive in the shadowy stillness
You built this fortress for a damn good reason which you can't quite remember now, but you're pretty sure it's still worth fighting for, at least you hope.
Seeking guidance from a god-like guru who will help you do
what you know need now be done.
Your empire has become your prison, a labrynth so well fortified that even you can't find your way back out.

So well done! 
The jokes on you now so at least your laughter can echo off the empty walls for no one else to hear.
Time to get moving, put some pep in your step and if you leave now you just might catch the tail end of the double feature that's playing in the old familiar theater that's filled with people that you were supposed to meet there.
 
My Life
It all feels so fake.
Like I'm waking up for the first time to realize that all this is nothing more than
plastic pawns on a cheap, cardboard chessboard.
If it was carved from marble or mahogany, it wouldn't seem so bad.
But this, it's all I can do to wait for that day when I hear,
"Pass Go, Collect $200", and then, just like that,
Without waiting to say Sorry,
Like a Hungry Hippo, I'm off!

Down secret Chutes and up Hidden ladders.
If I hurry, I'll be gone before you have the chance to sink my battleship.
Careful! Don't break the ice or someone will notice I'm sneaking out, through the Ballroom, with the revolver, and Mrs. Peacock is on my ass!
If I can just make it through this Candy Land of distractions and demons.
One wrong move, and KeRplUnK! It could all be over before I know it.

But like Magic Gathering, there are tricks up my sleeve.
And I'm willing to take the Risk, because you have no idea how well I know my way around this Mousetrap.
I have moves like you've never seen, the likes of which will Boggle your mind.
I will get out of this Barrel of Monkeys and when I do, I'll be the one yelling
YAHTZEE!

Because this is no Trivial Pursuit here.
This is my Life.
And this is one game, I plan on winning.

**Warning: The game is rigged. You can't lose if you don't play the game.
 
 

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Lost In Puerto Viejo

You can see how easy it is to get lost here. There are less than 20 streets.






Well, you may be relieved to hear, that even in 2013, with Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pintrest, Gmail, Smartphones and Iphones, and whatever other technological advances you can think of, there are still places in this world where you can unplug. It is still possible to disconnect, leave it all behind, forget your cares and worries, and for a short time, listen to the waves crash on the shore, watch monkeys play in the tress, and drink coconuts and beer till your heart's content. Now, there is plenty of debate as to whether or not checking out from the fast-speed, modern world is healthy. Some people might argue that this is a sign of depression. By not partcipating in the social media world, you are distancing yourself from your friends and family. That your lack of interest in social elements is a sign that you are mentally unstable. I'm no expert on the subject of how much interneting is "normal" or "healthy", but I will tell you one thing, it has been great getting lost in Puerto Viejo.

We've been living in Costa Rica for three months now. We left Oakland over four months ago, and while I
The view of our front porch.
was worried I might be homesick by this point, quite the opposite is true. I feel as though I've only just skimmed the surface of what this place has to offer. And during this time, I checked out of "real life", or whatever you want to call the norms of the first world. I haven't been on Facebook much, I stopped using my smartphone, which only acted like a mini computer, and I rarely have checked my email. I have been working, at a new bar since the last time I wrote. I am now an employee at Tasty Waves, a great little surf bar, owned and operated for the past two years by a guy from Huntington Beach, California. It's a small, close-knit staff, good food, closer to home than the previous job, so I can bike there (when it's not raining), and it's where Jahsiah and I had been spending most of time and money anyways, so it's working out perfectly. Monday night is Movie Night, Tuesday night there is live music, followed by an awesome party, and on Thursdays, there is a weekly Trivia Game, which we have yet to win. It's a bar where, you guessed it, everyone knows your name.

In addition to that, Jahsiah and I are helping to form a Community Garden Project. Touching on our past experiences working in the non-profit world, we are building a grassroots movement to help ensure that there are no families in the area that are without fresh food. The project is just in the early stages, but it's nice to be involved in something that serves other people and puts us more in touch with the folks that actually live here, rather than just vacation here.

That being said, after Easter, we officially reached slow season in the Caribbean. The crowds have died down and most times, Puerto Viejo looks like a ghost town. Lots of hostels, bars, and restaurants, with their lights on but nary a patron in sight. This will be a challenging time financially, as business is slow, but a great time to get to know the real Puerto Viejo, calm in the absence of Ticos on vacation, Northerners escaping the cold, and Spring Breakers looking for a non-stop party.

We've had a few other events take place in the past few months. Our first visitor came to stay with us. Jahsiah's friend from New York was in town, just for a few days, to catch some surf and check out the area. At the end of his trip, we said goodbye, not just to him, but also to our travel mate, Timmy. He headed back to California, which allowed the reality of us living here, to sink in. On our trip, it felt like just a trip, a time to see Mexico and Central America, with the goal of living in Costa Rica. But since Timmy was never planning on staying, his departure marked the moment when Jahsian and I realized, "Oh shit, we really do live here!". So, we've been getting used to this jungle house with just us and the dogs here. We've had bats galoure in the house lately, and every morning, there are several humming birds that fly in and out of the windows, look us in the eye, say good morning, and then as quickly as they appeared, they leave again. We still hear the monkeys every morning, and usually right before it starts to rain.

We make bread to sell at Caribbeans, a local coffee and chocolate shop (convinently located next door to
Liz and Jahsiah's Herb and Cheese Focaccia.
Tasty Waves), we walk the dogs around the property and sometimes take them to the beach so LaDainian can attack the waves. Life keeps on going, much like it did in Oakland, but the surroundings are obviously quite different. The pace of life is slow here. And I got what I wanted, more trees than people, more face to face conversations, less texting and Facebooking, no time cards to punch, no touch screen POS systems to track your sales, and if you ever don't have enough money at the end of the night, well that's OK, you can always come back tomorrow and pay your tab.

So, for me, it's been easy to unplug. And while I feel a little guilty about not staying up on my social media game, I have to say, it's been nice being lost in space and time. Existing in a realm where neighbors watch out for each other, owners of businesses are still working along side their employees, and bathing suits count as proper work attire.

Smile, you're in the Caribbean.

And now, some pictures of mushrooms and where we live.

For scale. Everything is bigger down here.
After the rain.



The road to our house.


Wild Oyster Mushrooms.

Where we walk dogs.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Rum Runners

Tomorrow is March 1st, which means we have been living in our Jungle Mansion for one month, which also means we have now been in Costa Rica for as long as we were on the road. During this time, we have meet a lot of interesting characters and had a handful of different experiences. One of the best is the notorious Panama Run.

Groceries, among other items are very expensive here, with this being the proverbial end of the road. As such, beer, wine and liquor is also quite expensive. When we asked where one could find cheaper products, thinking maybe we would have to go to Limon, the nearest big city, or all the way to San Jose, to find better deals or bulk items, we were told that for alcohol, we would need to go to Panama. As we are only about 30 minutes to the border crossing at Sixaola, this didn't seem like that crazy of an adventure. We decided to ask our neighbors, Jeff and Nancy, if they could tell us directions for the Panama Run. We had been introduced to our neighbors on the road back from our houses the day we decided to rent this house. We had seen them out a few more times, but had yet to hold a real conversation with them. When we saw them at Trivia Night on Thursday at Tasty Waves, an event that has become our marker for the passage of time, I decided to strike up a conversation and get to know the two of them. They have been living in Costa Rica for about a year and half but have been traveling down in this country for a number of years. They rent two properties on the same "farm" where we live, and essentially, we are the only people living back here. From South Carolina, in their 60's, their personalities shine. They are friendly, funny, at times brutally honest and vulgar, and lots of fun to spend the evening with.

At Trivia Night, I asked Jeff if he could explain the roads to Panama, or maybe even draw us a map. Roads down here are not labeled, and with nothing but jungle all around, it can be a little confusing finding your way places. He said he could explain the way, or even draw a map, but what would be better, would be if he came with us for our first run, so we would know how to do it in the future. Agreeing that this sounded like a good plan, we made a date for the following Saturday. We headed over to their house around noon on Saturday and our day began. After stopping at Tasty Waves and The Point to grab beers, since if we were going to have a day out, why not make it a good day, we continued on our journey.

Heading out of town, we turned off on the road toward Sixaola, but we didn't stay on that road. We took another turn and yet another until we wound up on a dirt road, with a sea of banana plantations to either side. Green leaves went on forever in every direction. At the end of our dirt road, we reached a river bank. There was a small cart selling pipas (coconuts) and some food. A few cars were parked on the bank and a team of men ran a set of two boats. In order to cross into Panama without the bureaucracy of the border officials, this boat system has been set up to take people back and forth across the river, to where on the Panamanian side, you find duty free shops with booze, electronics, and clothing. The river is not particularly wide or deep, although it was deep enough for one young kid to be enjoying a swim in the hot afternoon sun, but the boats are necessary so that when you cross back, your goods don't get wet. We got into the boat with two other women and made our way across the river to a sand bank, where you get out of your first boat, and transfer to your second boat. On the shore of Panama, you climb the steps to the duty free liquor store, and as Jeff said, you're like a kid in a candy shop.

Not only do they have a larger selection than you will find anywhere on the Caribbean side of Costa Rica, but everything is cheap! Fifths of Jameson for $10, 24-packs of Milwaukee's Best for $9 (yeah, I know it's Milwaukee's Best, but hey, it's $9) Patron for $20, decent bottles of wine for anywhere from $3 to $12, Baileys, Kahlua, Flor de Cana Rum, Johhnie Walker Black and Red, Vodka, Gin, anything you could think of! (Note: this store would not be so amazing in the states, but down here where your only options are 6-packs of Imperial or Pilsen for $10, this place is a wonderland.) We gave ourselves a $100 limit for the three of us to stalk up so we wouldn't need to spend so much money on having a beer once in a while. Jeff got a few things for himself and after about 20 minutes, we had made our purchases and headed back to the boats.

Once back across the river, we tipped our boatmen, who share in the money they make, seemingly without issues. We loaded up the car with the help of the boatmen, and started our drive back. "Now, is where the real rush begins," Jeff informed us. The dirt road leading back to the main road is where the cops will stop you. Some days they wait, concealed in the banana plantations, to pull you over and take what you have just purchased. Nothing more than that takes place, no ticket, no reporting you to Immigracion, they simply help themselves to your bounty, which should be expected every once in a while when one is partaking in illegal rum running across international borders. We were lucky, no search and seizure this day.

We drove home, with one more stop at The Point to celebrate our success. It was just getting dark when we got back to the "farm" so we sat with Jeff and Nancy and enjoyed our spoils. We heard more of their stories from their early days together and learned more history of the place where we are living. In the end, not only had we succeeded in becoming Rum Runners, but we also bonded with our amazing neighbors. Friendship and booze, what's better than that?

 * I had brought my camera in hopes to document the day, but considering what we were doing was illegal, I decided it best not to have evidence of said illegal activity.
**Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.


Friday, February 15, 2013

Playing Catch Home While Staying Home Sick




Working at the hostel in Manzanillo.
I had to remind myself today to slow down and enjoy living in the jungle. I woke up feeling awful again today, battling more intestinal trouble, this has been happening for about one week now. A lot of people have been sick in Puerto Viejo lately, and I was not spared. On top of becoming sick last Friday, I had also just gotten hired at The Point Sports Bar and Grill at Playa Negra on the north side of Puerto Viejo. So, I attended my first day of work sick, and had one day to lie in bed, before working three days in a row, all a little under the weather. A little under the weather is an understatement. The first night I was sick, I lost 5 pounds! You can imagine the things a body is going throw if it can lose 5 lbs in one night. But I made it through and was even starting to feel better. So when I woke up this morning feeling horrible again, and having been up in the bathroom most of last night, I was disappointed. Yesterday, Jahsiah and I went to Manzanillo to finally start our first day of real work on
Jahsiah's mosaic floor.
the hostel, Paraiso Natural, that we helping our friend Ferguson with. Jahsiah was working on tiling one of the bathrooms, I had been painting. Our plan was to return today, but I found myself unable to get out of bed, and sadly stayed home.

It was my first day home in the jungle mansion all alone and I was struggling to feel comfortable. There are so many noises coming from this jungle constantly, and when one is alone and not feeling well, it is easy to start thinking about how alone you are out here, and how if you needed something, you would have a hard time communicating to someone, especially considering my cell phone doesn't work at the house! Around the height of my afternoon jungle paranoia, a text came through that my boss at The Point wanted me to work tonight. I had said I would love to pick up shifts since as of right now, I'm only working three days a week and that just won't cut it money wise, but the reality was, I was not feeling well enough to work tonight. So, no Manzanillo to help on the hostel, and no Point for some tips and money. I was feeling rather lame and frustrated. And then I realized, I didn't come down here to keep stressing every little thing. I didn't come down here to go back to working 7 days a week, like I did in Oakland. I came down to Costa Rica to slow down a bit, to enjoy my life, to appreciate having the day to myself in the jungle. But it's so hard for me to not fall into the same manic cycle of exhausting myself as is usually my M.O. In fact, I was feeling so guilty all day that I didn't just suck it up and do something today, that I finally had to sit down, get out my camera, and make myself write a blog so that I felt like I had accomplished something.

So here it is, some pictures that had been lost in the shuffle since my computer broke, which by the way, it is very broken and looks like it is done. Hoping to get another computer in a month or two so that I'm not having to highjack Jahsiah's computer. In the meantime, enjoy some photos that go back to previous posts.
Breakfast at Hotel Leon del Sol in Leon, Nicaragua

Our host Mario, was a Nicaraguan who now lives in Napa. He had just opened his hotel, which was very nice. He helped us get the vet come to the hotel to look at LaDainian's foot after attacking the bull. If you are ever in Leon, go to Mario's hotel and you will be treated like royalty.
The famous Tuk-Tuk. I had been meaning to post a photo of one. If you've been to South East Asia or Central America, you know a Tuk-Tuk. If you haven't ridden in one yet, make it a goal to do so!

A beach on the Pacific side of Nicaragua, just north of San Juan del Sur.

Volcano Ometepe on Lake Nicaragua.

First glimpse of the Caribbean!


First Imperials, we made it!

An orb spider, better than screens.

Home sweet home.

The view from our balcony.


Our balcony.

Our kitchen in our new home.



The lesson of today, there is no point in working hard to get what you want, if you don't let yourself enjoy it once you get it. Time for me to slow down and enjoy the life I set out to create for myself.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

More Trees Than People

Well, our journey as come to an end. Sort of. As I write this, I am sitting in the house that Jahsiah, Timmy, and I have rented for at least one month. It is a two bedroom, two bath, jungle mansion, more or less, about 2 kilometers into the jungle, off a dirt road, just outside of Puerto Veijo, Limon, Costa Rica. Manzanillo, our desired destination, sits 13 kilometers south down the main road. Mission accomplished. Now for the hard part.

We crossed into Costa Rica after spending a few days on Lake Nicaragua, La Dulce Mar, the largest fresh water lake in Central America, with two huge volcanoes, one still active, jutting out of the middle. (Pictures will soon be up, but alas, my computer has gone on the fritz and the last round of photos uploaded are on said computer, so I am writing on Jahsiah's, as such, please forgive the lack of visuals this post provides.) San Jorge, just outside of Rivas, which was the city known for William Walker's failed attempt at becoming president of Nicaragua (check out the movie Walker, staring Ed Harris, in one of his lesser roles for more information on that little side step in history) is the tiny little town that we stayed in. Because of the lake, there is always constant, very heavy wind blowing in San Jorge, and since most people only visit San Jorge as it is the location to catch the ferry to cross over to the volcano island in the middle of the lake, that does have a little community living on it, the town of San Jorge is windy and desolate. We, due to the dogs and the car, did not take the ferry to the volcano island, but stayed instead in the windswept town for two nights, getting ready for our last border crossing. San Jorge was only about 30 minutes from the Penas Blancas border crossing, the only land route from Nicaragua into Costa Rica, and as such, a very busy border. We got up early, wanting to make sure we had plenty of time to not only cross the border, bueracracy and all, but to arrive in La Fortuna, Costa Rica early enough that evening to find accomodations and then go treat ourselves to the hot springs of Volcan Arenal, as a sort of celebration that we had finally arrived in Costa Rica.

Everything we had read prepared us for Penas Blancas to be the worst bordering crossing in terms of the go here, go there, get this stamped, come back, go back over there, get this stamped, now get this photocopied game, but we found this border crossing to be much less troublesome than either the entering or exiting of Honduras. After a few hours, and one last silly round of having our car fumagated, we were driving in our destination land. Since we wanted to start crossing the country, considerably north of San Jose, we had to stray from the Pan American Highway 1 and enter into lesser traveled roads, which at times were not paved, but after our experience driving to the end of the world in Guatemala, the roads seemed just fine to us. After a few short hours, with a stop for lunch and our first serving of Costa Rican beans and rice, gallo pinto, we found ourselves in the shadow of Arenal, one of the most active volcanoes in the world, with it's last erruption in 2010. I had visited Arenal on a previous trip and had spoiled myself then with a trip to Baldi Hotsprings. The area around Arenal is filled with hot springs, some of them free and only known to locals, still in their natural state, others like Baldi, are natuarlly hot but their apperances are very far from what they once were. Built up with swim up bars, rocks that glow different shades of green and blue, water slides (a new addition since I had last been there) and full spa services, Baldi was our one moment of decadance on this trip.We spent several hours soaking in the warm waters, hoping to catch a glimpse of lava flowing down the side of the 5,000 foot monster looming above us. After relishing in our success, we took a taxi back to the hotel and prepared for our last leg, crossing to the Caribbean.

We enjoyed a good cup of coffee, our first in quite some time since the rest of Mexico and Central America exports all the good stuff back to the states and are left with Nescafe, ate gallo pinto con huevos fritos and hit the road, with our eyes set on landing in Cahuita, a town just north of Manzanillo. We didn't quite make it. Round two of car troubles, which all things considered is amazing how few car complications we had driving a 1999 Yukon with 200,000 miles on it! We ended up staying for two nights in the town of Guapiles. If you're thinking to yourself, "Hmmm, I've had some friends visit Costa Rica but no one has ever been to Guapiles", well, that's because there is no reason to ever go to Guapiles. A city on the Caribbean truck route, Guapiles had only two hotels to chose from, one would be considered a crack motel in the states, and the other was a hotel casino with rooms for over $100 per night. We chose the crack motel. It wasn't so bad, but one night was enough, we hit the mechanic first thing in the morning. Hoping it was going to be a quick fix like in Mexico, where we only had a loose shock mount, we sat in the mechanics, dogs and all, and waited. We soon learned that we needed a part, a part that had to come from San Jose so wouldn't be there till the next morning, and would cost over $200, a bocina delantera, which I still, even after having it replaced, still don't know what it is. But, when the going gets tough, we get another hostel, and a Costa Rican cell phone.

Wendy, the manager of the mechanics, adopted us. She found us a nicer place to stay, so we wouldn't need to return to the crack motel or spend $100 at the casino. She hooked us up with a taxi driver with a pick up so we could get the dogs to the cabinas with us for the night, and on day two of hanging out with the mechanics, she walked me all around town helping me get a local phone so we would be able to get housing once we arrived in Puerto Viejo. Joseu, our mechanic, even bought us each a shot glass as a gift. Again, the hospitality of Central America was more than we bargained for. After two nights in the odd little town of Guapiles, we were finally on the home stretch.

We hit the Caribbean coast and suddenly our objectives changed. Rather trying to get somewhere, we were here. But that brought on the new tasks of looking for housing, linking up with our friend Sergio Ferguson who owns the hostel we are here to help finish, and figuring out what the hell we are doing living in the jungle!

So, we have a house, we've talked with Ferguson, who in addition to working on the hostel, is now also offering tours through his company Manzanillo Adventure Tours, and we've meet some friends in this new home away from home, mission accomplished. We have arrived in a land with more trees than people, and more snakes and spiders, and mosquitos, and monkeys, and birds, well, you get the idea. Now the real journey begins!

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Ancient Ruins, Bullfights, and Nicaraguan Hospitality

The time-space continuum is warping oddly. From our seemingly endless time in Mexico, we have now encountered a new phase of passing through 3 countries in less than one week. That being said, Guatemala was short and that was our plan all along. This idea was only strengthened by our respective sicknesses, which while they were unpleasant, were not the worst of what can happen in the "third world".

We knew that we wanted to cross the border from Guatemala into Honduras at El Florido, just 10 km outside of Copan Ruinas, the town that is the hub for touring the Mayan site of Copan. What we did not plan on, was the incredible bureaucracy of the Honduran border guards. All of our papers were in order and there were no complications, but when you bring a car into Honduras, you must go through the Aduana office (Customs) and the Aduana officer must file your car on their system, SARAH. This process, which includes going to the bank and paying the import fee, plus making 5-7 copies of about 15 different documents, can take quite awhile. Luckily, since our destination was only just across the border, and we had made sure to get off to an early start that day, we were able to still get through this lengthy process and make it to Copan Ruinas with daylight to spare. We asked around at a few places to find one that A) had parking, B) allowed dogs, and C) fit within our budget. After the first two rejections, which came with looks of "Are you crazy? Dogs don't sleep with people!" we lucked out. The Hotel Marbella, recently bought by a family that lives in La Entrada, a city about 70km from Copan Ruinas, became of refugee for the next two days. Not only did Don Carlos, the uncle of the owners and the care taker of the hotel, say the dogs were not a problem, and that we could park the Yukon in the little courtyard, but Deimy, the daughter of the owners, a cute little ten year girl, who stays at the hotel Monday through Friday to attend school in Copan Ruinas, spoke perfect English and told us we could even access the roof of the two story building to let the dogs run around. The view from up top was amazing. You could see why the valley of Copan had been inhabited by a variety of people for the past 4,000 years.


The next day, we geared up for our main tourist event of the trip, exploring the ruins. I had been to Tikal in Guatemala several years before. Jahsiah had visited a much smaller site in the Yucatan, and Timmy had never been to Mayan ruins. We were told that Copan was the most artistic of the Mayan sites and that the detailed sculptures and original paint and plaster on the buildings and walkways made this a unique site. Our guide, Daniel, at Las Sepulturas, a secondary site another kilometer down the road, said if Tikal is the New York of the Mayan sites, than Copan is the Paris. The carvings were amazing and as with all ancient ruins, the energy of the place was powerful. Picturing what life might have been like in 600-900AD, when Copan was thriving, was made possible by the great care with which the site is maintained. At Las Sepulturas, where we did decide to shell out for a guide (which maybe we should have done at the main Copan site for more information) we learned a lot about the basic structure of everyday life. Copan proper would have been where the royalty lived and where everyone from the surrounding city would have gathered for festivities and celebrations. Las Sepulturas was for the middle class, the doctors, scribes, astronomers, and fisherman, while the poorest of the city would have lived in the surrounding hillside. It is thought that Copan had around 20,000 inhabitants at one point. The main site and Las Sepulturas are no longer being excavated but archeologists are still working in the surrounding hillside to learn more about day to day life. Daniel showed us on the houses at Las Sepulturas where hinges for doors would have fit. The Maya slept up on beds with doors so that crocodiles, snakes, pumas, and monkeys couldn't get to them in the night. The river would have run right past their houses, now it is anywhere from several feet to a few kilometers from where the city was as the course has changed over time. When I asked if there were still crocodiles in the area, he explained that the fisherman had killed them over the years to make it safer and easier to fish. One of the many symptoms of civilization.


After about an hour and half of translating what Daniel said from Spanish to English so that Timmy and Jahsiah could understand, my mind was tired, and my body was tired from the day of exploring. We hopped a tuk-tuk back to town. For those of you who are not familiar with a tuk-tuk, it is a three-wheeled taxi that looks like something out of a Disneyland ride. They are incredible cute and fun to ride in. It was a nice change of pace for all of us to get shauverd around for the afternoon. We had dinner at a little spot on the way into town owned by Jessica, a Dutch woman, and her husband Esteban, from Belieze. We ended up spending the evening playing darts and talking with Jessica, her mother, who was in town visitng from Holland, and Jesse, an expate from West Virginia, who now has a jade and jewelry business, Mayan Mountain, that he started 3 years ago. It was a welcome change to spend the evening speaking English with folks other than eachother.
Jahsiah and Timmy taking a break at Copan

 Our next stop in Honduras did not prove as welcoming. We headed southeast, making our way towards the 3 Nicaraguan border crossings, which are all in the southern part of the country. I suppose most people hit the beaches along the Caribbean coast of Honduras, but since those roads didn't connect with where we needed to be, we went a less traveled path to the city of Comayagua. Not much of anything to see in this city, we learned that the US has a very large air base just outside of the city. We also learned about the relationship that the US and Honduras have had in the past and to some extent, still have today. The Contras, backed by the US, used the base at Comayagua to invade and attack Nicaragua during the revolution. Honduras was also the launching point for both the US backed Guatemalan coup in 1954 and the Bay of Pigs Invasion in 1961. The US has always seen Honduras as it's biggest alley and most strategic location in Central America. Another odd fact though, is that the US deports it's gang related felons to Honduras. Between 2000 and 2004, some 20,000 felons were deported to Central America, mainly Honduras, even if they weren't from there. This in turn, has fueled the ever mounting gang violence which was all too presently felt by us during our brief tour of the southern regions of Honduras. I'm sure most people that stick to the beaches and the bay islands never see much of this, but it encouraged us to keep moving and get to Nicaragua as quickly as possible, and we're from Oakland, mind you.

After a brief stint in Honduras, we were to the Nicarguan border, and boy, if we thought it was buracratic getting into Honduras, getting out was even harder! The same deal of photocopy this, then go here, then photocopy that, then go there. And at these border crossings, all of this is happening in Spanish, with me as the main translator. If I thought I was good at speaking and understanding Spanish before, I certainly am now. All in all, between getting out of Honduras and into Nicaragua, which was equally as buracratic but hundreds of times friendly, this border crossing took about 3 to 4 hours. Once we were finally through, we made our way to Somoto, a smallish city just 20 km from the border. This region was the hardest hit during the revolution due to it's close location to that same base in Comayagua, but you would never know that based on the friendliness of the folks in town. Somoto is also known for being the birthplace of the Rio Coco, the longest river in Central America, and one of the draws of staying there is to go explore the canyon and the river. You can hire a guide and go on a 7 hour tour, a 3 hour tour, or if you have a car, you can drive up to the where the tours end and explore the river on your own. We opted for this option. We paid the entrance fee and headed down to find the river.

We started our walk, crossing the river and taking a path. We let LaDainian off leash. He took off running. He did a few laps and circled back behind us. He likes to check the perimeter. We walked for a few minutes before he took off, away from the river, he wasn't coming back when we called, and then we heard bellows. Cows, making noise, lots of noise, we were all yelling for LaDainain to come back, more cows, more noise. LaDainian had attacked a bull. He was hanging from it's neck when Jahsiah finally caught up with them. Jahsiah pulled him off, but now the cows were pissed. They started advancing and headbutting Jahsiah. He was pulling LaDainian away while the cows were pushing them out of their territory. I had no choice but to stay back as I still had Isabelle on the leash with me and the last thing the situation needed was another dog next to those cows. Finally, Jahsiah and LaDainian got far enough away that the cows retreated to their grazing space. After getting the dogs back to the car, I went to speak with the owner of the cows and the bull that had been attacked. The owner wasn't mad and once I explained that LaDainain didn't have rabies and had had his shots, he was more relaxed. I told him I wanted to give him money to help cover the medial costs. I asked to see the cow, at the time I didn't know it was a bull, and he took me around to where the cows were hiding. The bull had puncture wounds on his neck and up and down his two front legs, but overall he was fine. I went back to the car, got some money, and returned to give it to the owner. He seemed reluctant to take it, saying that the cow was fine, but for my own piece of mind, I insisted. We decided to stay a little longer and enjoy the river, with dogs safely stashed in the car. The canyon was beautiful and after all the commotion, it was refreshing to swim in the river. When some cows headed down towards the river by where we were swimming, Jahsiah suggested we take off, still a little troubled from his cow episode. He had the right idea though, as we still had to drive to Leon and it was already the afternoon.

We hit the road, drove for a few hours and wound up in Leon, just before dark, searching for a hotel. On our way across town to check our second choice, our first denying the dogs, a gentleman on the street flagged us down. His name is Mario, he is Nicaraguan and he lives in Napa, but recently opened the Hotel Leon del Sol, a very nice conversion of an old mansion. Mario is a welcoming man whose precense fills up the room. He told us over and over that we were home and to relax. There is a kitchen that guests are welcome to use, breakfast is included, with real coffee, a hot commodity throughout Central America. If you want to do laundry, you can, and anything you might need in the area, Mario can help you out with. He offered to give us his phone number so that if we needed anything in the rest of the country, we could call him for help. And his services came in handy when we realized today that LaDainain had seriously injured his foot. Mario got a vet over here for a house call, and we learned that luckily LaDainian's foot was not broken, just badly bruised and swollen, remarkable when you think of hanging from a bull's head while it's running and it steps on your foot. We have to give him a shot a day for the next 4 days and he is to be on bed rest for 8 days. 

After a day of recharging and making good use of Mario's knowledge, we are feeling ready for the last leg of our journey. Tomorrow, we will head down to Lake Nicaragua to check out the largest lake in Central America and the 5th largest in the Americas. After that, we might have one more stop before crossing into Costa Rica. Then, it's only a matter of getting over to the Caribbean coast. Manzanillo here we come!

Leon Street Corner at Sunset.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

From the windiest place in the world to Ballermala


Wind Power at La Ventosa
After weeks of hugging the Highway 200, which snakes along the Pacific Coast of Mexico, we finally headed inland, from Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca, to San Cristobal de las Casas, high up in the mountainous state of Chiapas. We had read that it would be much cooler there and that the city sits amongst a pine forest, but it was still shocking to change our climate and our wardrobe so rapidly. To reach San Cristobal, you have to cut across the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, which is the narrowest part of Mexico, and also one of the windiest places in the world. This stretch of highway averages wind speeds of 19 miles per hour and at times, knocks semi trucks over as they drive. We drove on a claim day, as we were advised by a fellow traveler to check wind conditions and not to drive with high winds. Even though it was a more less low wind day, we still had to stop to make sure our surf boards and dog crate didn't blow off the top. As Jahsiah and Timmy tied things down tighter, I almost blew away and decided to get back in the car. Literally, I've never been anywhere in the world where the wind was such a terrifying force.

Real Madre, San Cristobal de las Casas at night
We survived La Ventosa and began our ascent in to the Sierra Madre de Chiapas, with elevations of more than 9,000 feet. The cool air was a welcome relief for our sun burned and heat-rashed bodies. The old, colonial architecture of San Cristobal was the first of it's kind that we had seen on our trip. With buildings more than 400 years old, it was nice to be in a place with such history. San Cristobal de las Casas became quite known in the 1990s due to the Zapatista uprising, during which time San Cristobal was seized by the revolutionary group. While the Zapatistas have not been in the mainstream media recently, their presence is still felt in the region of Chiapas and they marched on the city of San Cristobal again recently on December 21st, 2012, with more than 50,000 masked, silent protesters pouring into the street. The grassroots organization taking place in the region makes it possible to learn about the area and the history of the indigenous people, and of all the places we visited in Mexico, it was the only place where fresh fruit and vegetables are available from local, cooperative stores. Of all the places we saw in Mexico, San Cristobal is the only one I would like to revisit. We spent two days exploring the city on foot, but there was much that we did not see, and it is a great launching point for further exploration of the Zapatista movement and the activism taking place in the region.

After our last Mexican stop, we were ready for our next country, Guatemala. Driving south from San Cristobal, we came out of the Sierra Madre de Chiapas and entered into a low, hot valley, where Ciudad Cuauhtemoc on the Mexican side, meets La Mesilla on the Guatemalan side. This border crossing had been recommended by a few other travelers and from what I had researched, was to be a simple, no hassle crossing. It was. We still had to go through the protocol of getting the car fumigated, dogs paper's checked, our passports stamped and processed, with stops on both the Mexican side for exiting and the Guatemalan side for entering. It took about two hours all said and done, but was easy and everything went smoothly. We drove on for a few hours, not sure if we were going to make it all the way to Panajachel, in the Lago de Atitlan region, or need to stop before in either Huehuetenango or Queztaltenango. We ended up only getting as far as Huehuetenango, up in the Cuchumantes Mountain range.We had been shocked by the height of the mountains of Chiapas, but the Cuchumantes made those look like foothills. Jutting up out of nowhere, we left the hot, muggy valley of La Mesilla and began climbing, higher and higher towards the clouds. Some of the most dramatic landscapes any of us had every seen, we spent the next few hours in awe of where we were.
Scenes from our drive through the Cuchumantes Mountains

No Man's Land, truly untouched earth.

Our first night in Guatemala, in Huehue was pleasant and we were all feeling elated at how easy a time we were having in dangerous, scary, difficult Guatemala. Our hotel was a 125 year building that had the feel of nobility and we went to dinner at a nice restaurant, sitting upstairs, overlooking the plaza and the church lit up at night. The roads into Huehue had been nice and the tempurature was perfect. But, we were soon to learn our lesson, just when you think everything is fine.....

Day two, we awoke and stomachs were not feeling so hot. We had discussed plans in Huehue and decided to change our itinerary. Instead of heading south to Antigua, another colonial city that was sure to be clarwing with hippies just come from the Rainbow gathering in Southern Mexico, of whom we had been surrounded by in San Cristobal, we decided to head due east to Coban, not Copan, famous for it's ruins, but to the the less traveled region of the country, famous for it's caves and natural pools. With Jahsiah feeling a little shaky, we set out, with confirmed directions from our hotel staff and began our drive of only about 270km. Little did we know, the strecth of highway we were driving on was more or less unpaved and our 270km took us over 6 hours to cross. Some of the worst roads in the world, taking us into even higher mountains that than day before. At one point, we came to a mountain side, thousands of feet up, that had been completely destroyed by a rock slide. One young boy, maybe 12 years old, shoveled pebbles out of the road, attemping to smooth the path. He asked for water in the scorched environement and luckily we had some to give him. Further up the road, 4 grown men had a road block in place, which they would remove for 25Q, about $3.00, a toll for the removal of boulders and the "improvement" to the highway. We literally thought we had reached the end of the world and while I tried to remain opptimistic about our course, I began to worry that we were too deep in uncharted territory. Meanwhile, Timmy had become sick, and Jahsiah was worse than when he had woken up. Despite being high in the mountains, the temperature began to climb and all of us were beginning to crack. Just when we thought things were going so smoothly.



We decided to call it quits before ever reaching Coban and the famed caves of Semuc Champey, instead opting for a cheap, roadside hotel in San Cristobal, not to be confused with the famous Mexican city. This San Cristobal had no other travelers, no Rainbow gatherers, no Zapatista activists. We were the only non-Guatemalans in this town. We pulled in and within minutes Jahsiah and Timmy retired to their respective bathrooms as I went in search of water, saltine crackers, and medicine for the weary travelers. Holding it together long enough to get supplies, I made it back to the room just in time to have my turn with the porcelain princess. We rested and tried to sleep as best we could. Luckily, the price at the hotel was per person so we were able to get two rooms for the same price as all three of us in one, so at least we had a better toilet to sick person ratio. After a rough night and some local medicine, we awoke in a little better shape the next morning, but we had learned an important lesson, don't let your guard down in Guatemala. The roads can be merciless and so can the cuisine. But the people are incredibly friendly and helpful.

Due to our weakened states and fear of the less traveled highway, we decided to forgo our Semuc Champey plans and headed south for Rio Hondo, a little junction on the way out to Copan, the Maya Ruins just across the Honduran border. A short drive, on an a decently paved road, a nice room with air conditioning, and hotel grounds with three pools, water slides, and a high drive, it's no Semuc Champey, but tonight it is, to us, the most beautiful spot in Guatemala. From Bubble-Gut-emala to Ballermala, our world-wind tour is packed with everything. Let's see what tomorrow holds.