October 6, 2005
Last Day in Costa Rica
For our last day in Costa Rica we took it easy. We ran some errands and walked around a bit to get a feel for the city. Parts of the downtown area are relaxing and gorgeous, while others are hectic and unsightly, just like any other city. But San Jose seems to stand apart from other Central American capitals in its development.
At 9:00pm we headed to the bus station to catch the 10:00 bus to Panama City. If everything went according to plan we would be in Panama City at 4:00pm the next day. This will be our longest bus ride of the trip so far. At the station we met a Costa Rican, Mauricio (or Mau for short), who was just starting a trip through South America. In Panama he was planning on catching a boat to Columbia and then spending 5 months traveling before heading to England where he and his girlfriend were going to work. We were a bit jealous that he was going to be traveling into and through Columbia…until the three of us read our guidebook’s take on the city where Mau would need to catch the boat to Columbia. It was basically a strong warning to stay away from this dangerous city if at all possible. Still, Columbia sounds like it is an interesting place, once past the dangerous guerilla-occupied border areas.
At 11:00 the bus finally departed and after listing to a few lectures I downloaded on my MP3 player we were soon asleep.
Posted by Peter Mork at 7:13 PM | Comments | TrackBack
October 5, 2005
Cloud Forest
We were picked up in the morning by our guide and we headed to the Monteverde Cloud Forest, which was about 20 minutes away. The area consists of series of trails through a private reserve originally preserved by a group of Quakers. It was amazing. Monteverde is one of only five original cloud forests in the world and the trees were remarkable, but once again the animals kept away. We did get to see a variety of birds, a family of coatimundis, a tarantula, and an armadillo which made for a pretty good trip. The sun came out at one point, and we practically danced with joy.
After walking through the forest, we packed up our bags, checked out of the hotel, and then headed to a pizza place to grab a bite to eat before our bus ride back to San Jose. We ended up eating with the Spanish couple we had met the day before and exchanged emails before we departed. They had seen a sloth in the morning in Monteverde, where they also were, but said it was far away and (not surprisingly) not moving much.
The bus ride back to San Jose was uneventful other than the fact that part of the road at one point was narrowed to one lane so it ended up backing up traffic for miles and we got into the city later than expected. Once at the hotel we were delighted when they handed us the Fed-Ex package with our tickets to Caracas. It looks like we are all set.
Posted by Peter Mork at 7:09 PM | Comments | TrackBack
October 4, 2005
Suspension Bridges and Fair Trade Coffee
Every article of our clothes in our bags is for the most part completely soaked. It just feels that the last few days we have been in nothing but rain. So top on our list this morning was to get our clothes washed and most importantly dried. The hotel actually had a service, which worked out great.
We also set up our plans for the day. For the morning we planned a tour of a park that has a network of suspension bridges that lie over the cloud forest canopy and for the afternoon a tour of a fair trade/organic coffee plantation.
A van picked us up at the hotel and we headed out to the canopy park at 8:00am. I realized on the drive out that I am turning into a travel snob. There were two brothers in the back seat who had been working on an organic farm in Costa Rica for the last 3-weeks. Their mother had come to pick them up and tour the country for a few days with them. The mother commented how full the van was and one of her sons commented that he had seen them even fuller than this, that usually every seat was taken (there was one empty seat in one of the rows). There were about 14 people in the van and I immediately thought of the trip in Honduras when they packed the same model van with 25 people. But then thinking of some of the stories we have heard of travel in Southeast Asia I know I haven’t experienced it all either.
The park with the suspension bridges was very interesting but it made me glad we have already seen so many interesting animals along the way. The pressure is off for us, so to speak. Costa Rica, even in the rain, has been crowded with tourists all trying to catch a glimpse of something special. It is no wonder that the wildlife keeps away. We walked along and could just enjoy the forest for what it was without stressing out about what we could be seeing if only we were lucky. [Note from Em: Darn those elusive sloths and quetzals] During the walk we stopped and talked to a couple from Spain and shared some traveling stories. The bridges during the walk really gave you a great view of the beautiful lush, mossy forest. Hopefully the pictures do it justice.
After the park we headed back to town and grabbed a bite to eat in a restaurant known for its comida tipica. Covering the walls of the restaurant were sheets of paper that tourists had decorated with messages or drawings about Costa Rica. One caught our eye in particular: a depiction of the artist’s feelings about CAFTA, the Central American Free Trade Agreement that is almost ratified. The artist needed an economics lesson as he claimed that Costa Rica wouldn’t be able to export anything to the U.S. [hint: the balance of payments must equal zero]. I’ll be putting together an essay on the subject at a later date.
Next, we headed to the coffee plantation. It is completely different doing things in Costa Rica as a tourist. Even though many of the roads are unpaved, you just can tell you are traveling a well worn path. Tourists are everywhere and this is the low-season.
Our guide’s name was Miguel and despite the fact that it was raining, he gave us a great tour of the plantation. Miguel had just recently started doing this tour for the company, but as a kid he would spend summers picking coffee with his family so he already knew a good deal about the industry. We first visited a small farm that was only about 2.5 acres, but part of a cooperative made up of many small coffee growers, and this cooperative helped the farmers become Fair-Trade certified. We learned about the coffee plants, when the beans ripen, prices and quality of the harvest, and much more.
To be Fair Trade certified, the coffee-plants had to be interspersed with trees (shade-grown), the idea being that some of the integrity of a forest habitat would be maintained. Another requirement is that the plants are to be farmed organically (without chemical fertilizers, but it was unclear whether pesticides could be used). Especially interesting was that according to Miguel, “shade-grown” coffee beans have no higher quality than regularly-grown coffee beans. The premium paid for “shade-grown” coffee is all about maintaining habitat for wildlife. We were surprised to learn that there was no real requirement that the trees providing the shade be primary growth or even native growth. Banana or other fruit trees were sufficient. There has been evidence that these fruit trees do draw sloths, primates and birds, however it would be stretching it to claim that the integrity of the original habitat is maintained. Better than nothing, I suppose. Also, the cooperative has to pay annually for its Fair trade and Organic certification. And while the Fair Trade label meant that the farmers were in fact paid more for their product, the cooperative itself requires that the beans be picked red instead of green (more difficult to pick but of better quality) to justify the higher price.
It was made clear that coffee farming was not the profitable business it had once was. In the 90’s the coffee bean was often referred to as “el grano de oro” (i.e. golden bean), but no longer. The entry of Vietnam into the market has greatly suppressed prices and the farmer whose land we toured was only able to survive off of the coffee he grew as he also was paid a percentage of the cost of the tours. Without this extra money, he would have to get another job to supplement his income.
Another interesting point was that migrant workers flood into Costa Rica from Nicaragua and Honduras during the harvest to pick the coffee beans. Em asked if wages were increased as a requirement for Fair Trade certification, but we were told that the members of the cooperative are small farmers that can pick their own coffee without hiring labor. Usually, family members of these small growers provide sufficient labor to pick the coffee during harvest. It is the larger, non-shade grown, non-organic, non-Fair-Trade certified, massive coffee plantations that do most of the hiring.
Down at the cooperative we were able to see the whole process from where the beans are inspected after they are picked until they are roasted (but beans that are exported to the U.S. are actually roasted in Montana from this cooperative, not in Costa Rica.) On our way back to Santa Elena, our driver picked up the owner of the farm which we had just toured to give him a ridedrive to his place we were lucky enough to get a good view of two toucans that were perched on a tree right by the side of the road. Go figure. We spent all morning in the park looking for animals and we end up seeing these awesome birds right by the road at the coffee plantation.
Back at the restaurant where the coop sells and brews their coffee we actually met a friend of a friend from Healdsburg. Lorraine was her name, living in Costa Rica and working for the cooperative in the café. Yet another example of this small crazy world.
Back at the hotel we picked up our dry clothes (finally!) and grabbed some dinner. Tomorrow we will tour the Monteverde Cloud Forest which is what this area of Costa Rica is most famous for.
Posted by Peter Mork at 6:24 PM | Comments | TrackBack
October 3, 2005
It's Not the Destination that Counts, It’s the Journey
We woke up, had breakfast, and before too long we hopped on a local bus to Quepos, which is only about 20 minutes away. Waiting at the small bus station for the next bus to Punta Arenas I could see the rundown hotel that I had stayed in with friends Chris and Tony nine years ago. The room faced the bus lot so anyone in the station could see you come and go. Worse yet the room had a window that easily came off so anyone who knew could reach in and unlock the door. But hey it was cheap. We were also there when a hurricane hit Costa Rica so it was an adventurous couple days. In 1996, a bridge actually collapsed as our bus was crossing it. Everything seems much more solid now.
After reminiscing about the old trip, the bus showed up. Once packed full of people, us standing in the aisle, we were on our way to Punta Arenas. Slow-moving because of the rain, it soon became clear that it was going to take longer than the three and a half hours we had planned for. We realized we were going to miss our next bus which left Punta Arenas at 2:30. I made my way up to the driver and explained the situation. He said it wasn’t a problem, he could drop us off on the side of the road ahead and we could flag down the bus to Monteverde when it passed.
Ten minutes later we were off the bus and under a bus stop in the pouring rain along a highway. We were on the wrong side of the road and I could see a couple buses heading our way so I quickly ran across the road to see if one was ours. They weren’t, and although I was planning on just staying on that side of the road, it started to pour even harder so I decided to run back across the road and get under the bus stop shelter.
It was a pretty wild road and cars were speeding by at good clip. I was also running around with a 50 pound bag on my back as well as a smaller backpack on my chest so I wasn’t at my most agile. I looked to the left and there were no cars coming so I started to sprint back across the road. Looking to my right now there were no cars coming from that direction either so it didn’t look like I would need to stop and wait in the middle lane that divided the road.
But just as this thought crossed my head I heard a brief skid and the next thing I knew my leg was swept out from under me, I was briefly on the hood of a car, and then on my side in the middle of the road looking at a taxi that had just hit me. The guy yelled “Are you alright?” as he rolled down his window. I wasn’t sure. I immediately reached for my leg that had been hit thinking that it was going to be hurt, but there was nothing. I pressed it harder thinking it was the adrenaline but it really was fine. I stood up and noticed that the side I fell on was hurting a bit, but it seemed like I was alright. I told the driver it was alright, still confused as to whose fault it was (did I just not see the guy?), and turned around to run back to where Em was under the bus stop.
I knew I was okay, but I was also scared because I knew Em was going to let me have it. I had no doubt that it had scared her to death and she was going to lay into me for not seeing the car. I was shocked though when I approached and the first thing she said was “Is the computer alright?” (Our laptop was in the smaller backpack).
“Uh, I don’t know… I think so...” I replied. I felt my hip which was pretty sore then looked at my arm and found out it was cut up a bit. “Well that was a first.” I said to Em as the rain continued to come down.
“What was a first?”
“Getting hit by a car.”
“You got hit by a car?!?!” she asked, her voice a couple decibels louder. She hadn’t even seen it. She was getting something out of her bag and had missed the whole thing. When she did look up and saw me on the pavement she had thought I had just slipped. That’s why she was so calm when I joined her under the bus stop.
[Em´s version:
Nope, I didn’t see him get hit by the taxi, and I’m glad I missed it. I would have freaked out. We had just frantically jumped off the bus with our bags into the pouring rain. I ran to the bus stop for cover, and answered a taxi driver that had pulled over and was trying to give us a ride. Explaining that we were trying to catch the bus to Monteverde, he said that no, we couldn´t catch the bus here, we had to take a later one. At this point Peter was already crossing the road through the rain to the other side. I refused the persistant taxi driver who was just trying to get a fare, and as he sped off, I looked down to adjust my bags and was preparing to cross the road. Glancing over, I saw that Peter was on his back lying in the road with the backpack still on. He got up and continued running across the second lane, holding the computer bag in front of him like a limp rag with a strange look on his face.
“Is the computer ok?” I asked. Peter gave me an even stranger incredulous look. And then I found out that he was hit by the very taxi that sped off and must have done a u-turn in the middle of road. His arm was all scratched up and bloody, but nothing more. We are very very lucky that now it is just a funny story.]
Back to Peter´s version: Right at this point we spotted an old white school bus with “Monteverde” written across the top coming from the other direction. We flagged him down and ran back across the street together, looking VERY carefully before crossing. It turns out that the guy that hit me had pulled out from the bus stop and that was why he wasn’t going that fast. He was looking east for cars just as I had turned my head and was looking west. He didn’t see me until a second before the accident and I never saw him until I was on the ground. I blame him, although pedestrians don´t really seem to have the right of way around here. I’m just glad the guy was going slowly and it turned out to be so minor.
On the bus, the only two seats available were all the way in the back, next to a leaking window. We grabbed them. Em pulled out the medical kid and we patched up my arm. We retold the story to an American girl from Wisconsin and two Ticos she was traveling with.
The adventure wasn’t completely over. After a few hours into the trip with people getting on and off and retrieving their belongings from the back of the bus, eventually my backpack was propped up against the emergency door in the back. I looked at it and thought that the last thing we needed was the door to fly open and to my bag to fly out. About a minute later, feeling a breeze, I looked back, and there was the emergency door unlatched and wide open, the backpack partially hanging out over the road. Em and I both dove for it and pulled it in as another passenger closed the door… firmly this time.
Four hours later, after slowly climbing up into the mountains, we were in Santa Elena, just outside of Monteverde. The bus was held up for about 40 minutes along the dark winding dirt road because a mudslide had covered the road in front of us. As it was being cleared, I began talking baseball with two Nicaraguan guys who saw my SF hat and wanted to make sure I knew that Marvin Bernard was from Nicaragua. I one-upped them when I told them how one of my friends from college, Cesar, went to school with him when he just arrived from Nicaragua and Cesar had just arrived from Guatemala. To their displeasure they never get to see televised baseball from the U.S. in Costa Rica.
In the dark, we found a nice little hotel and were happy with the discount they gave us because of some construction they are doing during the day. Fine by us as I think we could sleep though anything at this point. All our clothes, even the ones in our backpack, are soaked but at least we made it. Tomorrow we’ll get ourselves organized and explore Monteverde.
Posted by Peter Mork at 6:16 PM | Comments | TrackBack
October 2, 2005
Parque Manuel Antonio
We woke up to white-faced capuchin monkeys hucking coconuts onto the ground on the open patio outside our room. They were high up in the palm trees, breaking open the coconuts and then retrieving them to drink the milk out of the shell like they were jugs of wine. I told Em that now we didn’t need to go to the park because we had already seen monkeys but she didn’t go for it.
We knew that even if it was pouring rain, today was the day we would hike in the national park because it would be closed to tourists tomorrow. It was indeed pouring rain when we woke up and only got worse by the time we waded the estuary that led to the park. Amazingly, visitors have to literally cross this river by foot to get to the entrance to the park. The river mouth flows into the Pacific and the depth changes with the tide. I’m guessing that the reason that there is no bridge is to keep tourism down in the small park, but it was a little unnerving as we crossed the river directly in front of a sign that warns you not to swim because there are crocodiles.
The best part about the rain was that we had the park all to ourselves. The area was incredible with the tropical rain forest coming right up to sandy beaches along the Pacific. A couple of times the downpour was so strong, it was difficult to tell if we were still on a trail or if we had suddenly ended up in a river coming off the mountain side. At one point the trail abruptly came to an end as several trees and lots of mud had fallen across it. As we found out later, this was in fact the result of a huge mudslide that we saw were able to see more of from a trail above. The rangers had not discovered it yet, but it was big. Taking out an entire hillside, hundreds of trees had been uprooted and had fallen into the sea below. It would have been trouble if anyone had been on that lower trail.
The mudslide prevented us from getting to a secluded cove with a beach for swimming, but I suppose we were already wet enough. Em waited around with hope to see some of the squirrel monkeys that the park is famous for, but except for a few teasing calls from up in the tree canopy, we were without luck. In fact hardly any animals were out and about in the heavy rain, but the views and the experience of being there by ourselves made it well worth it.
By the time we left the park we were soaked to the bone. The tide was in, and so the estuary crossing was much deeper and wider. A local with a small boat gave us a ride across so we didn’t have to swim. We are so soaked, I have no idea how we are going to dry out all these clothes and shoes without sun. We may just have to get used to the mildew.
Later, we walked down to the end of the beach and found the small hotel I had originally hoped to stay in. It was still a hotel and had not been turned into a restaurant. Go figure. Alas, the monkeys visiting this morning made our hotel more than worth it.
We are constantly moving. Tomorrow we are off to Monteverde in the center of Costa Rica.
Posted by Peter Mork at 11:59 AM | Comments | TrackBack
October 1, 2005
Manuel Antonio in the Rain
Because of all the rain we were advised to pay for a tourist shuttle to take us to Manuel Antonio, rather than a bus, so that we didn’t get stranded. We were picked up at about 10:30 and by the late afternoon we were in Manuel Antonio. On the drive down, talking with the driver about the local economy, I learned that Costa Rica is an avocado producer as well and had plenty of trees to prove it.
We had planned to stay in a place right on the beach hidden far off the main road where I had stayed with some friends nine years back. The driver informed us that it had been sold and was now a restaurant. So with that news we checked into a hotel that was right up against the park the region is famous for, Manuel Antonio.
Driving down it looked like we were in store for more sun, but right before we got to Quepos, the port-town closest to Manuel Antonio, the skies got grey and by the time we arrived it was raining.
After dinner we discovered a litter of six kittens at the hotel. Unfortunately they were playing with a gigantic dead rat the momma cat had found. Em caught the attention of two of the kittens before they found the nasty prize and played with them a bit before we went to bed.
Posted by Peter Mork at 11:57 AM | Comments | TrackBack
September 30, 2005
Surfs Up
Today Em took a surf lesson in the afternoon while I relaxed on the beach and did some reading. Her instructor was a great guy from Florida named Bob who had been in the military the last 7 years and had got our 6 months ago. He was down in Tamarindo teaching some surfing, working at a restaurant, and enjoying the Costa Rica lifestyle. After the lesson we saw him at a local café where we talked about some books he recommended we look into.
Inspired, we over to the local book and music store called Jaime Peligro and were shocked to find out that the owner was raised in St. Helena, California, Emily’s hometown of about 6,000 people. She actually went to high school with his daughter who was a few grades ahead of her. Apart from the home town connection, it was interesting talking about the benefits of CAFTA with someone who described himself as a “hippie” in his youth. A successful businessman, he was counting down the days until it was ratified by the Costa Rican congress.
Tonight we ate dinner at the pizza place that Bob works at and watch the Boston/Yankee game with a bunch of rowdy fans from New York and Massachusetts. Tomorrow we head southwest along the coast to Manuel Antonio.
Posted by Peter Mork at 11:53 AM | Comments | TrackBack
September 29, 2005
La Playa
This morning, after eating, we checked out another hotel. We were both shocked to see the quality of the room which really was so much better it wasn’t even comparable. Better yet it was only a few bucks more. We rushed to our hotel, checked out, and headed back down to our new place. Em was ecstatic.
We spent the afternoon on the beach about 20 minutes south of Tamarindo at Playa Langosta. When we first came across the mouth of a small river hitting the sea I immediately started out across it. Em was worried about getting her camera wet to which I replied “How deep can it be? Just hold you bag up and it won’t get wet.”
A minute later I was walking in water that was a good 6 inches over my head and holding my bag up as high as I could praying it wouldn’t get wet (though knowing if the water got any deeper it would be soaked). All the time I was jumping up and down gasping for air when my mouth would momentarily reach the surface as the current pushed me out towards the sea. Once again Em was right and I was wrong.
After braving the river again (luckily I found a place to cross that was only chest deep) and we laid out a towel and took in some sun on the practically deserted beach. Tonight we had pizza and watch the sunset at a local restaurant and shortly afterwards called it a night.
Posted by Peter Mork at 11:50 AM | Comments | TrackBack
September 28, 2005
Trek to Tamarindo
We caught an 11:30 bus to Playa Tamarindo on the Pacific coast. It was another long journey and at this point I’m thoroughly sick of being on buses and boats. At one point of the trip the road was completely flooded but the bus driver showed no fear and plowed through the river which was a few feet deep over the road.
At 7:00pm and now dark we arrived in Tamarindo and grabbed a taxi to one of the recommended hotels in the LP. A group of about 8 little kids and a teacher doing yoga and what appeared to be meditation spiritual chants in a circle on hardwood floor near the entrance of the hotel greeted us as we entered the building. Classic Lonely Planet authors I thought, but the owner informed us that she was just about to close for the week as she was heading out of town.
Heading out we met a teenaged Italian girl who informed us that her mother had a place for rent nearby. We checked it out and ended up taking a room. It was far from luxurious but at least it was a place to sleep. Down the road we splurged on dinner at a sushi restaurant of all places. This town must have a decent sized expat community judging by the variety of restaurants which range from a Burger King to some pretty nice places. It’s much more developed than the small beach town I was expecting. Tomorrow we’ll get to see the town during the light of day.
Posted by Peter Mork at 11:47 AM | Comments | TrackBack
September 27, 2005
River Boat Border Crossing
A little after 5:00 in the morning, and after another half-hour nap under the table, the boat finally docked in San Carlos, Nicaragua. The town is situated along the southern end of Lake Nicaragua where it meets Rio San Juan which flows along the Nicaraguan-Costa Rican border until it meets the Caribbean. A hot and muggy port-town, the place was bustling as we stumbled off the ferry. A woman was selling coffee and pan dulce along the side of the dusty main road, so we bought some and sat on plastic chairs with a couple of Canadians to pass the first hour, and then had breakfast in a small restaurant a few doors down. Finally at 8:00 the immigration office, which was located on a dock on the lake, opened and we got our exit stamps for Nicaragua.
The boat heading to Costa Rica didn’t leave until 10:30 so we headed down the street to take a look at a small market where people were selling fish and crabs that they had caught out of the lake and the mouth of the river, as well as chickens and bananas. The small crabs were sold ten at a time laced on a string. We watched customers walking through town with this string of crabs, bundles of fish, and live chickens held by their feet. Before long we were on the river boat heading up the Rio San Juan into Costa Rica. During the hour journey we met a nice family: the parents were originally from Nicaragua but now lived and worked in Los Chiles, Costa Rica, while both of their two young boys had been born in Costa Rica. We had heard stories that Costa Rica was full of immigrants and migrant workers from other Central American countries; people were drawn there by the stronger economy. This family was an example.
Once in Costa Rica when I went to pull money out of the bank I realized I didn’t have my credit card. Most likely I never got it back after the last meal but who knows. There wasn’t much I could do about it as we needed to quickly get on a bus to Ciudad Quesada. Luckily we made it in time. Hours later we jumped out of this bus and into another headed for San Jose along the side of a road. The buses here are no longer school buses but instead luxury cruisers. I kinda miss the former. Finally, around 7:00pm at night we checked into our hotel.
When I was 19 I took a trip to Costa Rica, the first trip I had taken to what one might consider the developing world (I had gone with my parents to Acapulco, Mexico when I was 5 or 6 but this was my first trip as a young adult). Landing in San Jose and making our way through the city during a torrential downpour I felt like I was in a completely different world. Entering San Jose this time around, I felt like we were back home. It was instantly obvious that this was the strongest economy in Central America we had seen.
Once settled in the hotel I gave Juan Carlos Hidalgo a call. Although we have never even spoken before, we had corresponded by email. Juan Carlos formerly worked at the Cato Institute and now works with the Libertarian Party in Costa Rica (10% of the Congress in Costa Rica is Libertarian). Unfortunately, he was leaving for Spain the next day, so tonight was our only chance to meet. When I reached him he was at a bar having a few drinks with some friends before his departure, and invited us to join them. I said we would try to make it over after we got a bite to eat, but made no promises as both Em and I were tired after our 28 hour journey.
Dinner recharged us though and an hour and a half later we caught a cab to the La Villa, a bar in a trendy part of Costa Rica. Unfortunately, we never did meet up with Juan Carlos. He might have just left or we might have walked by each other 20 times in the happening place. Although we missed each other, it was great to get out and see some of the San Jose nightlife.
After a few drinks and cruising around the bar one last time we called it a night. Tomorrow we are off to Playa Tamarindo. We have heard that Costa Rica (and all the rest of the Pacific coast of Central America) is being flooded by rain from Hurricane Stan and the dirt roads quickly wash out. We´ll see if we make it.
Posted by Peter Mork at 11:45 AM | Comments | TrackBack
September 26, 2005
The Journey into Costa Rica
Over breakfast we met an employee at the third hotel named Jose who wanted to give us a tour of the surrounding forest in exchange for practicing English with him during the walk. We all agreed to meet at one o’clock to give us plenty of time to do the hike, eat lunch, and then catch the 4:00pm bus to get up the ferry for San Carlos which left at 7 pm.
Before the hike we explored a bit more of the island on our own heading to the south. It is really a beautiful place and once we ended up back at the hotel I took a swim in the lake. The water on this side of the island is like glass and I floated out in the lake for a long while just listening to the howler monkeys on shore and watching flocks of parrots fly by. It felt like a place I would come back to.
At one we met up with Jose and he took us on the hike. I had questioned whether we really needed him in the morning thinking it was an easy trail to follow. As it turns out we would have been totally lost without him. When we finally emerged from the jungle at the end of the hike near the hotel, I was so turned around I thought we were getting close to the other side of the island.
During the hike we saw large parrots, bats, howler monkeys, and white-faced capuchin monkeys. It was well worth it. Back at the hotel Jose was our waiter for lunch and I gave him a good tip to thank him. He was also an amazing student. He had started to learn English, practically on his own, six months ago and was already nearly fluent. Every time he heard a phrase he didn’t know he wrote it down in a booklet he carried in his pocket which he would study every night. It was impressive.
We were packed and waiting on the side of the road with our luggage at 4:00 but the bus never came. We were told it probably broke down and there would be another one at 5:30 but it never came either. Some howler monkeys entertained us in the huge trees across the road. Everytime a bus would roar by (in the opposite direction from where we wanted to go) the howlers would let out their deep growns in response. At 5:45 we flagged down a pickup full of people in the back. I asked how much it would be to Altagracia, but the guy in the back just started to grab the bags and told me not to worry about it. I asked the driver again, not wanting to get charged more than we had on us once we arrived, but he said he was heading that way already and it would be free of charge. He dropped us off 20 minutes later at the edge of town.
We walked another 2km to the port, most of it with a 17 year old named Diego who worked for a hotel in Altagracia. Another nice kid and another diligent English student.
We thought everything was going to plan when we arrived at the port but when we went to buy tickets we were informed by the ladies behind the counter that ticket sales stopped at 6:00pm and we were 20 minutes too late. I asked if there was any possible way that we could buy a ticket as missing this boat meant that we would have to wait another 3 days on the island and we were already low on cash. There was no way one of the women replied and turned her back to me and sat down. Rules were rules and they couldn’t or didn’t want to see beyond them. I was dumbfounded feeling like I was dealing with DMV employees, quite a difference from the bus service we had encountered throughout Central America where bus operators begged you to get on their bus as it was pulling out of the station.
After I offered to pay more for the ticket which got another resounding no from the lady who had turned her back on me, Em started in explaining how the buses were not running and we had been walking for some time just to get to here 20 minutes late. To my surprise the she looked around and saw us both dripping with sweat. “These poor kids” she said “they’ve been walking with their bags since Altagracia. Alright we’ll sell you the tickets.” I was shocked but happy.
Soon we were on the boat on the top level. We paid a bit more for the upper level which had air-conditioning, but needless to say the air-conditioning broke two minutes after we were inside. The boat departed around 8:00 and I made my way out on the deck to just sit and watch a lighting storm for the first 2 hours of the ride as I unwound. Em after writing in her journal eventually joined me but just as she came outside it began to rain. Back inside the boat I found room to lie down under one of the benches and Em found a place next to me under the table. We made a few stops during the 8 hour journey through the night. At 3 in the morning I woke up to the sound of 10 year olds selling hot coffee and tortillas and queso fresco signaling we were docked. These kids have an unbelievable work ethic. Unable to sleep I made my way out on the deck to watch crews unload cargo such as bananas before we departed.