San Jose, Costa Rica, the urban capital of the country, is a gritty, noisy city with very scary potholes in the sidewalks, and deep gutters to accomodate the rainy seasons. A nightmare for the most able-bodied pedestrian, where the diesel-fueled (?) car always has the right of way. The five hour busride we took to escape the city, heading north to the tourist destination of La Fortuna (or Fortuna, depending on your reference) completely fumigated me. Although still neausous from the rocking and winding through the mountains, I periodically put a drop of peppermint oil on my wrist and licked it off-- what a lifesaver! I didn't plan on the poor road quality here, where much of the roads are dirt and rocky. The pride of the country is the one big cross-continental highway, which has recently been paved. I have had to remind myself that this is a much poorer country than I am used to.
Peppermint oil is perfect in a place such as this, where it can revive you, calm neausa, fight unhelpful microbes in the digestive system, and cool you off, especially if placed in strategic places, such as the back of the neck. Did I mention it is brutally hot here? (Well, at least on the coastline and lower elevations.)
We stayed at a budget hotel in La Fortuna, called Hotel Dorothy. I liked it-- simple, great view of the volcano Arenal and the surrounding hillside, great bed. The beds in this country are made of a mattress --some cheap version of memory foam, on top of a wooden frame with wooden planks, and the pillows are chopped up bits of this foam. I generally sleep really well, as long as I can get to sleep by 9 p.m. I think the pull of the earth and the sun is stronger here, so close to the equator, and I can't seem to keep my eyes open past this time, and I wake up, almost without fail, around 5:15.
Pricing of food, etc., has not been impressive. Food quality and variety is much more limited of course, often cheaper than the U.S., but not as cheap as we would like it be for us long-term travellers on a budget. Despite this, I have done some pretty fabulous cooking. I have cooked ripe as well as green Platanos (Plantain), as well as Yuca (Yucca) for the first time. And the black beans here are delicious. The coffee is excellent, although don't count on any good cream or milk to go with it. And to my greatest surprise, although the Ticos love their young coconut water (agua de pipa), it doesn't taste like what I'm used to in the U.S., where the coconuts come from Thailand, I think, and any other coconut products have been really hard to come by, unless you want coconut milk in a can, with preservatives. Weird.
This country has yet to smell truly "green" to me, and I am realizing it is probably because other tropical places I have visited during the wet season-- our Autumn, and this is my first time in a tropical place in the dry season. Still quite lush, though, but the roads create a lot of dust.
I am able to communicate rather well in Spanish. I am picking more and more up despite the presence of English-speaking people. Loic may not think so, but their presence and his presence help me in a way. I can get translations, and process more of the language that way.
The wild life is fabulous. So many birds, butterflies, monkeys, iguanas, other lizards. There have been a few bat encounters. Hawks, vultures, cormorants, pelicans, sandpipers, several varieties of brilliantly-colored tanegers. A close encounter of a family of Agouti outside our front door. And the ever-present magpie-blue jay, along with the great-tailed grackle. The Blue Morphous (Morfo Azul) butterfly is magickal. Loic encountered a boa constrictor swallowing the special variety of squirrel here, which is red orange on the bottom, an black on top.
My first flip-out with Loic occurred on the first day in San Jose. I was ready to fly home, or fly to the coast to see my good friend, Danielle! I expected there might be some of these experiences, but Loic didn't. When we finally visited Danielle, it was wonderful to hear her mention a previous trip with an old boyfriend, where she said they fought all the time. Loic has been surprised by my anger and emotional volatility, and I've been surprised by the stubbornness of the male mentality-- which sometimes can not hear or understand the females needs for basic things, like quiet, good food, a comfortable bed. We both need reminding that this is a pretty typical experience between men and women travelling, although Loic is quite calm and accepting of me, generally, which is amazing. Despite how much he baffles me sometimes, as I am sure I baffle him, he is a wonderful travel companion. I have to remember that although he expects me to take care of him in certain ways (we both acknowledge it as mothering), I have also been expecting him to take care of me, too. I think we've both been accepting of this.
In this country we've been spending an average of $50 US per day so far, for the two of us, not counting the airfares here and back. $40 is our budget according to Loic's calculations for a four month trip. Avoiding souvenirs, sleeping in hostels and budget places, negotiating prices for lodging, taking buses instead of taxis, hitchhiking instead of taking buses-- all have helped. We've gone over simply because I have to eat a lot and well, and I am picky, of course, about where we sleep. If it were up to Loic, we would survive on pasta, rice, bread, and camp or sleep in dormortories. The price of $33 per night seems often advertised, but is often negotiable, especially if there is a shared bathroom, and one isn't desperate for a place to stay.
A few nights ago I couldn't fall asleep until one a.m. --very unusual. We have been sleeping near the ocean, and the moon was nearly full. The ocean seemed especially loud. Then I felt the earth tremble-- once, twice, maybe three times, although gently. I shared this the next morning with a number of people, and no one else had felt it. Yesterday an earthquake was reported in Peru or Chile, and a Tsunami warning ensued for much of the Pacific and Carribean. A neighbor, along with Loic and I, wondered if and when we would need to head for the hills, and if it would do much good. So it has made me feel a bit more cautitous here.
I am pretty proud of how accepting I am of living in the jungle right now, along with the other living things and bugs. I call it "luxury camping".
Much, much more to come!
