Costa Rica 30

I am back in Alajuela where the temperature seems to have cooled down after a stifling thirty-two degrees when I arrived by bus from Monteverde at around ten this morning.  I mostly slept on the way, my earplugs keeping things nice and tolerable for me.  The descent by dirt and gravel road from Monteverde is very long and breath-taking.  There hasn´t been a lot of rain and the fields and pastures suggest August in Canada, so brown and yellow everything is.  And everything is covered with dust from the cars, trucks and buses blowing it onto all the plants and trees..  It´s very sad looking, really, seeing bougainvillea covered with a patina of gray, and hibiscuses bravely showing their best color despite the surrounding filth.

I walked around today in Alajuela in the heat for over an hour and really exhausted myself, then spent three hours in a local café with my sketchbook, consuming a batida de mora, kind of like a blackberry milkshake, and five tall glasses of wáter as well as a huge salad, sándwich and dessert. I had to ask them to pick the ham out of the salad and they were very obliging.  Even though I still found three small pieces of meat there, well, no one is perfect and it isn´t going to kill me and no I didn´t eat it.  I couldn´t help but think of the pig wandering around a sideroad in Monteverde and that poor abused calf a few days later.

Tomorrow morning I fly back to Canada.

Costa Rica 29

This is my last full day in Monteverde, for now anyway.  I would like to return in a couple of years, if I can afford it, that is.  I think I´ve already given a pretty balanced account of what it´s been like so far.  The annoyances have been minor and few and the enjoyment tremendous.   The lovely and interesting people I have met and befriended by far outnumber the twits I have encountered.  And don´t get me started again about the natural beauty here.

Yesterday I was reading a post from another blogger about why it is better not to travel alone.  For the most part I couldn´t help but disagree, but I also had to make an effort to understand her perspective as well as to respect that she did mention that she had already spent a number of years travelling solo.

I would first of all like to focus on where I agree with this blogger.  She wrote about the importance of having someone nearby who will have your back if things go wrong, especially when there is a strong risk of falling victim to crime.  She also stressed the unbearable loneliness and boredom that can make solo travel an absolute misery.  I couldn´t agree more, having myself been threatened by criminals in Colombia and Mexico.  I have also at times felt quite lonely and bored, but not too often.

When pulling things like this from the Internet it is also helpful to get an idea of the kind of demographic the writer is trying to appeal to.  In this case, it would be an American middle class female, white (probably), under forty, likely heterosexual, college and university education, fan of pop culture, faithful consumer of material goods and technology, not an original thinker, likely agnostic or nonreligious,  highly extroverted with a close family and large circle of friends, averagely bright but nowhere near Mensa category. 

Being myself a Canadian working poor male, over sixty, sexually unlabelled, with a smattering of college education, uninterested in pop culture, anti-consumer, artist, writer, original (I hope) thinker, strong professing Christian with a highly developed experience of spirtuality, neither really extroverted or introverted, without family, having a moderately sized circle of friends, an IQ that puts me in the top two percntile (I am neither bragging, nor fibbing here, Gentle Reader, just statin´the facts), I would be inclined to suggest that I am not going to be a member of this blogger´s target audience.

This blogger does not like the kind of introspection that travelling alone can induce, citing that it can lead one to a kind of bottomless dispair from seeing how empty and purposeless their lives really are.  I agree that for the unprepared, this kind of self-revelation can be hell and could even significantly damage one´s mental health.  On the other hand, it has been individuals courageous enough to go through this kind of self-evaluation, however painful and dispair-inducing, who have literally had their lives transformed and have been themselves powerful forces in challenging and changing the way we think.  (Mahatma Gandhi, anyone?  Martin Luther King?  St. Francis of Assisi?)  But if it´s something you´re not ready for, then ¨chuck me in the shallow water before I go too deep.¨

I also can´t imagine having to share a hotel room with someone.  Where do travel buddies get the idea that they have to always be together twenty-four-seven, anyway?  I cannot think of a better way of ending a friendship.  And the idea that dining alone or not being able to enjoy a sunset without being able to share it with someone else to help ratify the experience, strikes me as something bordering on pathetic.  How does she know, anyway, that waiters and other diners will look at her with scorn and pity for eating alone?  And why would anyone need to have someone next to them to confirm to them that the sunset they are seeing is indeed spectacular?

And don´t get me started about the need to take nothing but selfies without anyone to share the frame with.  Who really needs to travel with a camera anyway, unless photography happens to be your passion?  I might be alone with this idea, but nothing makes beautiful places like the Taj Mahal or the ruins of Macchu Pichu look worse than some dumb tourist being photographed in front of it, obscuring the grandeur.  I´m not suggesting that people shouldn´t take pictures while travelling, and one reader of this blog always regales me with their spectacular photo-documentaries of the many trips they go on.  I am really suggesting that in order to travel well, whether with someone or solo, a little thinking outside the box can go a long way.

I also will concede that my reasons and motives for travel might be a bit out of the ordinary.  These times away give me needed solitude to pray, think and experience life out of my familiar context and away from my comfort zone.   They also facilitate my development in the Spanish language, as I travel only in Latin American countries.  I am treated, as well, to all this free time to do artwork, to walk and explore and meet people.  Before any of you get started on this oh, Aaron must be an introvert kind of nonsense, let me make one thing perfectly clear: I do not subscribe to the binary nonsense of introvert versus extrovert.  If I were a true introvert I would not find it easy to meet people and make new friends while traveling abroad.  If I were a true extrovert I would shudder at the thought of having to spend so much time alone.  I really think that people who lable themselves as extroverts or as introverts are really just too lazy, or too afraid, to explore and develop other sides of their personalities.  It is scary at times having to think.

Anyway, this is not to dis travelling with others.  In my case, I think my real reason for travelling solo is very simple.  No one I know wants to travel with me, and I´m not going to let that stop me from the experience, the joy, the thrill, the challenge and the beauty of exploring other parts of the world and expanding my global circle of friends.

One other thing.  When we travel alone we are opening our lives more to the possibility of change, even of transformation.  I think that those of us who are able and willing to do it learn invaluable lessons about ourselves and develp new and solid skills of survival, adaptabilty, flexibilty, creative thinking and self-discipline, as well as encouraging us to respect and appreciate different cultures, and this can only help us in our journey towards becoming better people.

Costa Rica 28

This is my second last day in Monteverde.  Early Friday morning I will be leaving for Alajuela where I´ll be spending the night, then at the crack of dawn Saturday I´m off to the airport and will be back in Vancouver the same evening. 

I think this is a good time to assess the value of this trip.  I would say that on the whole it´s been very successful.  I did not sell any art as I was vaguely hoping, but I did give a couple of drawings away as gifts, one in exchange for a drawing by the bed and breakfast manager´s little niece, and another to the manager and his family, as they have gone well out of their way to help me feel comfortable and welcome here and we have come to be friends.  Neither have I knowingly connected with anyone who might facilitate some kind of future involvement for me here in Monteverde, but on the other hand, I don´t think this is the direction I should be exploring right now.

I think one really important thing to consider about travelling is this:  we are always bringing ourselves with us.  The same selves that we usually are at home.  The same flaws, the same irritability, the same lack of patience with others, the same unrealistic expectations, the same self-aggrandizing arrogance.  I cannot say that I´ve always been proud of the way I´ve reacted to people while away on vacation.  Mind you, there are some days, as today, when I seem to get treated to everyone´s worse possible behaviour, including almost getting run over by an eighteen wheeler in Santa Elena.  I will not bother going into detail.  I am not proud of the way I handled some situatioons today and I really don´t want to clog your poor brains with my dumb complaining.  Not today, anyway.

I did get lot´s of art done.  I am on my twentieth drawing here and I am genrerally pleased with the quality of my artwork during my month in Monteverde.  This is a record, by the way, after doing sixteen drawings in Bogotá last year.  I also enjoyed meeting new and interesting people.  I have spoken a lot of Spanish, but being surrounded by so much English here I really would have liked to have done more.  A lot of the local service workers trying to talk to me in English because I´m güero (white) hasn´t been helpful either, but I really can´t blame them, nor expect them to know.  I am not sure really if my Spanish has improved this time, but we´ll see.

I intentionally picked Monteverde this year for one simple reason.  I was needing a rest and in a place that was already somewhat familiar to me.  Bogotá was fascitating and worth all the trouble but it was also hugely exhausting, especially from my life being in danger at times, as well as having to cope with an often hostile bed and breakfast owner where I was staying.  Mexico can also be high-maintenance, especially with the unknowns surrounding health and safety.

The natural splendour here in Monteverde is even more splendid than I had remembered.  Every day, it is like waking up to something new, even if it´s the same tropical luxuriance that I saw the day before, and the day before and the day before.  And despite that it´s become so damn expensive, despite how infuriating some of the people, tourists and locals can be sometimes, despite the fact that you can´t hike anywhere decent for free, yes I do want to keep returning as I am able.  I have seen a lot of new birds as well as older and familiar species.  And the morpho butterflies!  I´ve been seeing lots of them the last few days, including this morning.  With their huge size, iridescent blue splendour and slow wobbly flight, they are a sight to behold.  To me they look as though they are laughing while flying.  And maybe they are, as I understand that they are really notorious lushes.  They feed on fallen rotting fruit which has a high alcohol content, and yes, they are as drunk as lords.  I wonder if they can get fined for impaired flying?

I have also enjoyed a lot of much needed solitude and quiet time.  I have been able to reckon more concretely with some of my personal issues and I feel that I am able to make some clear and responsible decisions that will of course affect my future.

I would say that the only real downside has been the high cost of everything here, and the need to subsist on a near starvation level budget at times.  Still, I do have more than enough money.  It´s just that I´ve decided that there is a certain amount that I want to bring home with me to help smooth the transition a little, given that my hours of work might be a little bit scant at first.  So, of course I would recommend Monteverde as a place to visit.  Just bring lots of money with you.

I do feel like a bit of an anomaly here as a solo traveller, given that I have seen only one other lone visitor here, besides myself.  And one fellow the other day appeared downright baffled and puzzled when I told him I was here alone.  I also understand that a month, alone, is a long time to spend in a foreign country, but for me it has been heaven, or close enough, on some days anyway.  I seem to remember a time when more people were travelling solo.  How did this fall out of fashion?  If you have any insight to offer on this, Gentle Reader, then please leave a comment.

I have also met some really lovely, decent and interesting people while here, including the cab driver today who offered me a ride for free when he saw me trudging up the steep hill (I turned him down graciously telling him that I was also doing it for the exercise.)  And of course, the Vargas family, who own the Mariposa where I am staying, are awesome!

Costa Rica 27

Parent Advisory: 

This blogpost contains bitchy and sardonic content.  Please read with a grain of salt and take two aspirins and call me in the morning.  And don´t forget to smile.

Today I would like to celebrate my orange little friends, without whose help, travel would be very difficult for me if not downright impossible.  I am referring here to my earplugs.  That´s right, Gentle Reader, your humble servant is noise sensitive.  There could be any number of possible reasons for my being noise sensitive and I am not going to spend any more time boring you with the details.  I will say this.  The world is a much noisier place than when I was young.  Those of us who spent our first forty years or so before cell phones and other fancy schmancy hi tech communications enjoyed the first half of our lives with quiet bus rides and peaceful cafe and restaurant visits for one simple reason.  No one was yapping away on their goddamn phones  everywhere in sports´-broadcaster voices and generally, there were no tv´s blasting away.  You could actually enjoy relative quiet almost anywhere in public.

Coping with increasing noise pollution is for many of us of a certain age a daunting learning curve.  There are also a lot of peer-reviewed scientific studies that indicate the many health risks from the prolonged stress from increased noise exposure, and this affects everyone, old and young.

That said, twice today, I had to rely on my orange little friends while out in public in Monteverde.  While seated in an otherwise quiet and blissfully tranquil cafe with a view we were being serenaded by renovations being done on the hotel next door.  When the young woman sitting nearby began yapping very loudly on her phone in Dutch, likely to her parents back in Holland, it became so annoying after a while that I had to put in my earplugs.  I was determined to not let anyone ruin my enjoyment as I sat there for a couple of hours finishing a drawing.  In the meantime, I also made an effort to appreciate how she must be missing her family and how nice it must be to have time to chat with them, and even though the annoyance didn´t stop altogether, it did become more tolerable.  Then a family group nearby decided to play soccer.  I could tell they were North Americans because their youngest was squealing like a piglet on steriods.  By the way, I do not dislike children.  Some kids I actually like.  I don´t tend to relate to people by category, but as individuals.  However, the way I saw the little girl being doted on and indulged by her mother I really got a dose there of some of the worst excesses of child-centred, or should I say, child-controlled, parenting.  It isn´t that I think the way my parents raised me was any better, because it wasn´t, but really, we do tend to go from one extreme to another, don´t we?  I shudder at how some of these over pampered and over nurtured kids are going to turn out: possibly they´ll turn into entitled little monsters who can barely wipe their own bums.  Anyway, I am willing and prepared to be proven wrong, and every generation, no matter how lousy its style of parenting, always features families that really do well regardless of everything.  And really, the way our parents used to yell and hit us was probably no better and likely much worse than indulging the little darlings.  But everything in balance.

I was going to have dinner at the soda, but it was crowded and noisy, the tv was broadcasting the soccer game and there was an adolescent boy bouncing his little ball inside like it was his personal basketball court. So, I went to Tramonti, the fancy Italian place instead.  I walked in and there was the soccer game being broadcast at high volume in this otherwise elegant restaurant with linen napkins and stemware.  In for a nickel, in for a toonie.  So, I sat by the huge window with the dazzling view of trees and tropical forest and put in the earplugs.  It worked really well.  When the waiter came back I took out one in order to hear what he was saying, then like a good little Canadian, I apologized as I put the earplug back in.  I suppose if I was an American and annoyed by the racket I might have just told them to turn down the goddamn tv while demanding an apology.  Ah, the True North Strong and Free, and I did it all with a smile!

By the way, speaking of Tramonti´s, in an earlier post I mentioned that the owners, who immigrated here from Italy, live in a huge glass and steel palace on the mountainside.  Today while walking past I noticed the road going up to their place and the huge stone and metal gate.  Quite a fortress.  It really makes me think of those immigrants who really make it in their adopted country, and really, how pathetically shallow and materialistic they often appear.  I mean the really successful ones, who crow loudly that if they can make it, so can anyone else, without thinking of the many others who have had to return to their country, or subsist in diminished and demeaning circumstances because they weren´t able to compete well.  And don´t get me started on some of their shameless poor-bashing, especially against our own poor and homeless.

This morning I gave my hosts at the bed and breakfast one of my drawings (I let them pick) as a gift and a gesture of thanks and friendship.  They have truly gone over and beyond to help me feel at home.  Though I am not usually one for using this blog for product or service endorsements, here´s the exception.  The name of the place is La Mariposa Bed and Breakfast, you can find them on Google, and if any of you have future plans to visit Monteverde, then stay here at La Mariposa.  These people are awesome.

Costa Rica 26

Not much of a day, really.  Lovely weather, and very little wind.  Hot at times, then the wind picks up a little or some clouds blow in to obscure the sun and make it cool again.  I didn´t go far, but I usually don´t.  I just finished polishing off the two thirds of yesterday´s pizza that I brought home with me.  I guess this place has become home for me.  The people are so kind and the gardens are incredibly lush.  Luz-Mery heated the pizza for me in their microwave and served it to me on a plate with a glass of orange juice.  I feel overwhelmed with kindness, even though that is exactly how I would have done the same thing for someone else.  But you know, I hope that I never take the kindness of others for granted.  The pizza was still good, by the way.  And satisfying.

I went to Curi-Cancha reserve again, fourth time, and once again the young guy working there let me in for half price.  I spent almost one and a half hours.  Didn´t go far and actually sat quite a bit, though I reckon I must have got around three miles of walking.  While enjoying the hummingbirds a couple from France came and descended on the poor birds with their camera equipment.  I tried to engage them in conversation and they seemed a little bit friendly.  When they asked me if I´d seen the quetzals I replied that I was concerned that so many people crowding around their trees might traumatize them.  Let´s just say there was a long silence after that pithy little remark of mine.  Here is a link to Sinead O´Connor´s song, ¨Red Football¨, in honour of the quetzals and all they have to endure from foreign birdwatchers

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwmYvc56wLI

I also saw a large black bird, rather like a huge chicken.  In Spanish it is called the pava negra.  In English it´s a black guan.  I like the Spanish name better  At a lookout point in the forest I had a chat with a visitor from Holland.  He was telling me how relieved he is that that ultra right maniac didn´t get elected in his country two weeks ago.  He thinks that President Dump is sending a warning by example of what might happen in other countries if they elect idiots like him, so the Dump might be, by default anyway, serving some sort of redemptive purpose.  I just described in an email to one of my readers that watching him self-destruct might be somewhat akin to seeing a python swallow a jackass.

I stopped at a small cafe for a cold drink on the way back.  I found myself for the second time that day downwind from a young American stinky male who doesn´t use deoderant.  Given how clean the Costa Ricans are they must have quite a lot of fun at our expense.  Who would blame them?  Then there was a huge mob of around tswdenty studdents, a lot of them overweight, all wearing the same pale green Costa Rica...Academy.  Funny how it is on those who inspire it that irony is always completely lost.

I´m thinking a bit more today about the difference between a tourist and a traveler.  I think I can sum it up quite quickly.  A tourist is a consumer.  A traveler is a student.

Costa Rica 25

It´s been a very pleasant and enjoyable day, so if you are missing any of my bitchy prose in this post, Gentle Reader, fear not.  Your humble servant has not lost his edge nor has he gone barmy or soft in the head.  It´s just been an unusually fine day, so why ruin it, and there will always be many politicians and other worthy targets to save my bile for in future writings.

I was rather amused this morning at breakfast by a table of six French nationals, all from the Cote d´Azur.  They were all between forty and seventy, full of life and appered to be having a lot of fun.  And despite the language barrier, they were friendly, nice and pleasant.   Later, as I was walking, I saw three morpho butterflies, eacjh flying in turn just ahead of me.  Here is an image again to refresh your memory of those iridescent blue giants   Then I saw an emerald toucanet  They croak kind of like toucans only at a higher pitch.

 I was seated on my favourite bench to look out at the Nicoya Peninsula.  As usual, there were vultures flying overhead.  I particularly noticed them last week when I was climbing and scrambling my way up that steep, rocky mountain path from San Luis.  They appeared to be just waiting to see if I would make it or not.  I did spend a little time today meditating on vultures.  I´ll tell you a dream I had long ago when I was twenty, or, when large animals still roamed the earth.  In this dream I saw a bald eagle flying, then an osprey, then a vulture.  I heard a voice ask me, which of these birds is the greatest of all.  I looked carefully, then I answered, not the eagle, because they rob the ospreys of the fish they catch to feed their young.  And not the ospreys, because they feed only themselves and their young.  It would have to be the vultures, because by eating carrion they perform the greatest service by cleansing the earth.

Later I saw a swallow-tailed kite flying overhead  This is the first time I´ve seen one of these birds since my first visit here twenty-three years ago.  On my last day here back then I saw four of them soaring overhead, then separating, each flying in a differnent direction.  It felt like a sign or omen.  After that I saw a squirrel cuckoo.  Please don´t ask me how they got that name.

I went again to the cafe at the Valle Escondido, or Hidden Valley forest reserve.  There is also a bed and breakfast there.  It is hidden away and it is the place where I stayed during my first visit here in 1994.  In those days I really travelled by the seat of my pants.  I didn´t even book any reservations.  I just got off the plane, cleared customs, got in a cab and the driver drove me to a decent little pension in Alajuela.  When I arrived in Monteverde, I went to this other place because I´d read about it in the paper.  Much to my relief, there was a vacancy.  I would never consider traveling that way again, but it was fun while it lasted.  Kind of like hitch-hiking, in a way.  And with the internet and Uncle Google at our fingertips it is so much easier to do research and book reservations almost anywhere in the world, except maybe for Somalia or North Korea.

The cafe is kind of open air, with no windows, just large spaces for the air to pass through and to look out at the fabulous view.  There was a family of Americans.  One of their children, a little girl of perhaps six or seven, accidentally spilled a glass of juice on the floor and was weeping inconsolably.  I felt so sorry for her and her mother took her out for a walk to help her settle down.  Later the girl´s mother approached me to say hi, telling me she was seeing me all over Monteverde.  They´re from California and they have been here for two years.   It also turns out their youngest daughter attends the same school as the granddaughter of the owners of the bed and breakfast where I´m staying and they know each other.  Very nice people and I hope to run into them again. 

On my way back I saw a calf wandering around free, grazing by the side of the road.  When I got closer I noticed the poor animal had been mistreated.  There was a long stick attached to it´s neck by a collar.  I also noticed purple blotches on it and abrasions.  Then two dogs started to harrass it so I sharply rebuked them in Spanish and they backed off and the calf appeared, by its body language to be saying thank you.  A bit later I noticed a couple photographing a mot mot.  I´ve seen so many today that they´ve kind of lost their novelty, but they are lovely so here´s another look if you want to be reminded.

I stopped in the slightly pricey Italian restaurant and ordered more pizza than I could eat so the leftovers will be tomorrow´s dinner.  I have just noticed that I´m hungry again, but I´ve just fortified my supply of trail mix with nuts, which I am munching right now.  I have found that travelling on a low budget while vegetarian I have to adapt strategies to keep myself well fed on limited means, so the trail mix with extra nuts works wonders.  I guess you could say I´m more a traveller than a tourist, kind of like an aging backpacker I suppose.

While paying my bill in the restaurant I was a bit annoyed when the fellow working there repeated himself in English when I didn´t quite understand him the first time.  The problem is, his voice was very low so I wouldn´t have even understood him at first in English.  Also some people here speak a rather garbled form of Spanish, like a local dialect  and I simply don´t have a clue what they are saying.  I just asked Esteban and he has explained to me that it isn´t a different dialect, but that they just tend to talk faster, run their words together and use slang and colloquialisms that I´m not necessarily going to get.  But so it goes when you speak a second language.  You are always going to have to work with it a bit harder than with your mother tongue.  Dammit!

On my way back to the bed and breakfast I saw an orange breasted trogon

He flew right above my head and perched on an overhead branch.  He was so close, I could almost reach out and touch him.  He was very calm, showed absolutely no fear of me.  I might have sworn he had just come over to say hi to me.

Just now, while typing this blog, I saw a summer tanager in the big azalea bush.  Here´s an image to refresh our memory.

I´ve said this before and I´m saying it again.  What separates me from bird watchers is this: I don´t feel the need to go out looking for them.  They always seem to come to me, or somehow we stumble across each other along the way.  I find this so much more gratifying.  This way the sighting feels much more like a gift and I appreciate it more as just that, a gift from the bird and a gift from God.

Costa Rica 24

It´s hard to write about nothing, but that is exactly what happened to me today in Monteverde.  Nothing. I walked over to the shopping centre in Santa Elena where I bought a large bag of mixed nuts and four packages of M and M´s to replenish my jar of trail mix.  It´s about a three mile hike, maybe a bit further.  And those hills!  I´m still not used to them.  I feel like I´ve lived here for a long time, even though it´s just been three weeks and a day or two.  But I have also been here three times before. One of my friends reading this blog just sent me an email and says that this seems to be the first vacation I´ve been on in a long time where I´m actually happy.  This is true, though I do treasure some of the memories of the other places I´ve been to.  I suppose it would help if I were to clarify something about my motive for travel.  Comfort and enjoyment aren´t really my first priorities.  Improving my Spanish and learning more about how people live in contemporary Latin American countries are the priorities.  I also always travel on a tight budget (my stagnant wages where I work are less than two bucks above minimum, so that´ll give you a clue) , which means that I have to accept trade-offs, inconveniences and discomfort, though not always.  And when I have the opportunity to really enjoy things, then there´s no stopping me.  It is still worth it, though this year I am glad to have a break from my usual if it doesn´t kill me it will make me stronger style of travel.  But if there´s such a thing as a typical tourist, then I´m not it.

Honestly, I hear more English being spoken in Monteverde than in my own city of Vancouver.  I am not making this up, Gentle Reader, and from all the English I hear spoken around here I sometimes wonder if my Spanish is suffering, though I speak a lot of it every day here.  There is one restaurant cafe I like to do art in sometimes.  It has table service and the waiters all wear the same olive green t shirt.  It has a laid back kind of ambience, and seems like the ideal sort of place for getting over a hangover.  Apart from the staff, almost everyone was speaking English.  Or French.  It was as though I hadn´t even left Canada.  There was a table of more than ten young Americans, perhaps with an average age of twenty, which is to say that they could be my grandchildren!  I have to admit that, with certain exceptions, I don´t really find young people that interesting.  Unless they are bright, asking a lot of questions and are particularly interested in doing something good in the world.

Later, in the Soda, in Gringolandia in Exile, there was a huge group of Swedes, Americans and one Costa Rican.  They all looked like upper middle class universty grads out trying to revive the Summer of Love while having their lovely tropical country slumming experience.  Or, perhaps they are working in environmental studies.  I didn´t ask them and they didn´t seem to know, much less care, that I was there, and a captive audience to their conversations.  And they were all speaking English with just a token smattering of Spanish, but at least they were trying a little.  And they also seem like authentically nice people.  Anyway, I´m determined to keep speaking Spanish, regardless, for the remaining time I am here.

It is a truly beautiful day here, today.  I am looking at the changing light on the trees and foliage outside the windows here as the sun gets ready to set.  Everything is incandescent with solar splendour.  I also had a lovely break seated on the best benchview of the lookout point.  I have been trying to get a better idea of the trees that grow here, there  are so many different kinds, and each produces leaves a different shade of green.

Costa Rica 23

I am beginning my fourth, and final, week in Monteverde.  I am already feeling the call of home, and am making plans for my exit as well as thinking of ideas of how I am going to live once I am back.  I expect things are going to be much the same as always back in Vancouver, but there are going to be changes as well.  I am not sure what kind of changes, but these times away on extended vacation every year, for me, always presage some kinds of changes that end up manifesting as the months roll on.  I like to think of these times away s a kind of preparation time for the coming changes.  I am hoping to avert disaster this time.  Last year, when I returned from vacation I came home to an infestation of bedbugs, as well as coping with additional and unexpected job stress and the ending of a couple of friendships.  The year before, I was in hospital a month later.  This year?  Who only knows, but you can bet that I´m going to be very careful for the first couple of months I´m back.

It surprises me how much I love my city, Vancouver.  This has been dawning on me as I tell different people where I am from and I really say it with pride, that I am from Vancouver.  This might seem kind of odd to some of you who have often heard me refer to my city as a dumb blonde, or as a gigantic laundromat for the dirt money of foreign investors.  But this is why I badmouth my city.  Because I love it.  And really, who among us doesn´t sometimes complain the most bitterly about the ones we love the most?  It´s like my own mother when she used to tell me that I´m so smart that I´m stupid.  She wouldn´t have told me that if she didn´t care enough.

It´s been so far an enjoyable day.  This morning during breakfast, as I was working on a drawing, one of the other guests became interested in what I was doing and an enjoyable conversation in Spanglish followed.  She is American and speaks Spanish at intermediate level.  She is a social worker in Oregon and works especially with clients with mental health challenges who are on low incomes, so we had quite an interesting conversation about our professional lives.  Even though my Spanish is usually fluent and advanced, this afternoon, since returning, I seem to be tripping over my tongue a bit, but this sometimes happens.  Here´s an image of the hummingbird I just finished today.  It´s called a Velvet Purple Coronet and they live in Colombia and Ecuador



Isn´t he pretty?

I walked over to Cafe Cabure and blew a small wad on overpriced coffee and brownie with ice cream where I pleasantly wasted another couple of hours with my art.  This is the place with the balcony with the view of the forest.  After scrimping and saving the past three weeks, I´m loosening the purse strings to enjoy myself a little more.  Then I walked around a couple of miles on some sidestreets...

THIS JUST IN:

One of the owners of the bed and breakfast just brought over to me her granddaughter, whom I think is four or five years old, to show me her latest drawing.  The kid is incredibly talented and her concept of colour and composition are very advanced for her age, so I was encouraging her to keep doing art and she was just beaming.  And suddenly, my Spanish has improved again!

While I was wandering the sidestreets I encountered a friendly looking potbellied pig that was wandering around like a stray dog.  She had quite an amusing grunt.  I almost petted her, but didn´t know if she would welcome being touched, besides which, how would any of you like it if a complete stranger walked over and started patting you on the head and maybe elsewhere?  That´s right, you´d probably call the cops.

I found another cafe to sit in with my current drawing and a fabulous view of the distant Nicoya Peninsula.  One of the owners (I think) came over to look at my art.  Then I walked over to a fairly pricy Italian restaurant for salad and pasta with pesto.  There goes another fifteen bucks, but totally worth it, and really not expensive at all by Vancouver, or Monteverde, standards.  I sat by a huge lookout window with my pasta, enjoying the forest and the dazzling splendour of the sunlight filtering through the leaves.  It was as though there was a conversation occurring between the trees, the sun and the wind and I was privileged to eavesdrop.

Costa Rica 22

This morning I ordered fried eyes for breakfast.  That´s right.  Fried eyes.  A Spanish Freudian slip if ever I made one.  I was going to ask for huevos, or eggs, but the word ojos, meaning eyes, slipped out of my mouth instead.  Esteban and I of course laughed about it.  We also all more or less woke up with difficulty this morning, hence the fried eyes.  The establishment next door, a hotel that doesn´t appear to have a name, had another party last night.  Even after the manager here phoned them after ten, which is the legal time limit for noise, to ask them to turn it down, they carried on partying till after eleven.  I did mention that this hotel next door doesn´t appear to have a name.  While lying awake last night reading and waiting for the noise to end I came to the conclusion that there is more going on there than what meets the eye.  I am not sure what to assume, really, perhaps money laundering or worse, but something doesn´t smell right about that.  This morning I was chatting with Esteban and his mom, all of us bleary-eyed and wanting to strangle the neighbours, and I simply mentioned to them that, hey, I wasn´t born yesterday, try maybe the day before, and that popular tourist destinations also attract entrepreneurs with a poor ethical sense, and it appears that you guys are stuck with some very bad neighbours.  No further discussion necessary.  And to quote the late great Walter Concrete, ¨and that´s the way it is¨

It was on my second visit here in Monteverde in 2008 that I got a whiff of the dark underbelly to this community.  I was befriended by a local cafe owner who also has a coffee plantation that he took me on a tour of.  On our way there we were stopped by two rather grim, scary looking guys.  In those days my Spanish was intermediate level so I didn´t really understand their conversation, but my friend looked very uncomfortable about the encounter and refused to say anything when I asked him what was going on.

I think especially in a community like Monteverde, as well as in a country such as Costa Rica, there is going to be a dark criminal underside.  The social and family and extended family structures and connections in this country are very tight and very complex and there are going to be all kinds of things going on that you would never read about on Tripadvisor, nor hear from your travel agent. Neither are you going to hear much from your average Tico.  They tend to be very tight-lipped and it is next to impossible to discuss anything negative with these people.  Here, North American-style directness is considered gauche, even the gentle and watered-down Canadian version, of which I am rather proud.

The American connections and investments in this country are also interesting.  During a conversation I had here today with a new friend who is on his way back to the US tomorrow we were both musing on the implications for Costa Rica during the Nicaraguan Sandinista Revolution and the civil war with the Contras that followed.  It appeared that Costa Rica was harbouring a lot of refugee Contras as well as their friends from the CIA.  During my first visit to Costa Rica in 1994 I actually met one of those CIA operatives.  He seemed kind of wound up, scary and arrogant and with quite a violent streak.  We were chatting in a bar in Alajuela when a local teenager came in and this CIA operative, Pat, rushed over to him, started to throttle him, and threatened him with severe violence if he ever pissed him off again.

So, this morning, even though I still had a decent sleep despite the noise disruption, I did wake up feeling hungover.  I am still keeping things in perspective.  The magnificent local cloud forest I was privileged to visit yesterday is a vivid and present reminder of the absolute natural beauty and wonder of this place.  The many fine, friendly and helpful people I have met also help me to remember that the dark side to our humanity is just that.  It is only one side.  The day before yesterday, I had lost one of my pencil sharpeners. The next day one of the ladies at the soda had it ready for me to pick up.  Today, in one of the local bakery cafes one of the staff returned to me a small green pencil crayon that I had lost there when I was last there almost a week ago.

I think we are always going to have to reckon with darkness, our own and other people´s, but this also somehow makes the light seem brighter.

Costa Rica 21

Today, Gentle Reader, is International Goof-Off Day.  Or, it might be National Goof-Off Day.  I think it should be international, anyway.  Since it appears that I´m always on vacation in March, I don´t need to do anything special to celebrate.  The rest of you?  Maybe you could bring a yo-yo to work.  Or maybe waste your entire day on social media, though some of you probably already do that every day.  Or hang out in the mall.  Or stuff your cake-hole with...cake?

I observed Goof-Off Day in the cloud forest.  The big one.  Which helped put Monteverde and, by extention, Costa Rica, on the world eco-tourism map.  Even here in Monteverde this isn´t just any cloud forest.  This zone, being in the mountains, has many micro-climates, but the higher you go, the more moisture and the air gets cooler.  I noticed a lot of people wearing jackets and sweaters, even though it was just comfortably cool.  I was just in shirtsleeves, but this could be more a sign of being Canadian, though unlike some of my compatriots, I draw the line at wearing shorts and flip-flops outdoors in January,  Hell, I don´t even wear them in August! 

This increased moisture and coolness has an impact on the way the vegetation changes.  The trees are huger, but this could be because they´re old growth, and there are more ferns and moss, and vines and epyphytes and other plants that weave around, hang from and festoon and adorn every available trunk and branch surface so that it appears that every tree is elaborately clothed and costumed and robed each in its own particular finery.  The denseness of the vegetation is indescribable.  This is truly a majestic place, one that inspires awe and silence and reverance.  Is it any wonder that this magnificent cloud forest has become such an invaluable cash cow to the Costa Rican government and people?  There is an admission fee, as is the case for all the nature reserves in this country.  Before you whine ¨Unfair!¨ keep in mind what the revenues do for the local economy.  I do understand that the locals pay a much lower entrance fee than the tourists.  For the privilege I had to shell out the equivalent of thirty bucks Canadian.  Which is why I´ve been waiting three weeks to go there.  I really had to tightly budget and save.  Besides this, I know I would have regretted not going during my time here.  When I come to Monteverde, even though it´s been four times already, I never know if this is going to be my last time.  I want to take time to savour every possible detail, visual, audial, olfactory, sensual, of the cloud forest, to carry this home with me, and to let the wonder of the experience somehow translate into my daily life and interractions with others when I am home in Vancouver.

While climbing some of the steep trails I again took care to take my time and to pause to rest periodically.  I did this partly in deference to my age.  It wasn´t as if I feared having a heart attack, nor that I couldn´t do it all in one bound.  Had I known how high the path went I likely would have done it all without pausing, but I didn´t know this, for which reason I thought it wise to go slowly and conserve my energy.  It was worth it.  It also gave me a chance to stop and carefully observe, absorb and enjoy the marvelous details of the nature surrounding me, taking in each fern, epyphyte, leaf, vine and detail of moss and tree surface.  While observing the way everything grows, tangles and hangs together in the cloud forest I also noted how interdependent all life is in its indelible sacred balance, that there is a clear need that every living thing has for every other living thing.  This could be a different model for seeing nature from the classic competition and survival of the fittest model.  I think the way we perceive nature depends a lot on our own belief systems and how we´ve been influenced by our culture and history.  Since the dominant economic, and in many ways, social and political, forces in the world have been so hugely influenced by unfettered  capitalism, I think that many of us are going to view nature, and many other things, as a competition for survival and dominance.  If we instead are more inclined to a gentler, more human world view then I think we will be more inclined to see the harmony and interdependence of all life forms, and this will also influence the way that we fit, adapt to and influence the world around us.

I was also impressed by the presence, or should I say, dominance. of moisture.  As I set out on the road to walk uphill to the reserve, a distance of three kilometres, I noticed how the road became increasingly muddier, the higher I went.  The sky was overcast, or should I say, that I was already, because of the altitude, in the sky, surrounded by dense cloud.  There was a constant mist, not exactly drizzle, and everything was wet, even the bench surfaces, making it next to impossible to sit down anywhere to rest while hiking the trails.  While it isn´t a particularly difficult hike I think it´s better for those who are already reasonably fit.  By the time I finished the hike my shirt was soaked, more from the surrounding moisture than from perspiration. 

I understand that some of you reading this would appreciate it it if I would post images on this blog.  Well, all I can recommend is that you go to dear Uncle Google and ask him.  I do not own a camera.  There are reasons for this.  For one thing, they cost money, which I prefer to save for these trips.  For another, I don´t like taking pictures.  I am a decent photographer, by the way, but for me there is something about seeing my environment through a camerra lens that cuts me off from my surroundings, and when I am abroad I want to be as integrated into my environment as possible.  There is still another reason.  A mere visual image, no matter how beautifully rendered, is not going to do the place justice.  You really have to be there, to smell the damp fragrances of leaves, moss, earth, rotting wood, tree bark and flowers, and to feel on your face the moisture and to get a sense of scale of the enormity of the forest and the trees.  In other words, Gentle Reader, God has given you an imagination.  Now use it, please.

I must have been in the cloud forest a little longer than an hour and a half.  I stopped in at the local Cafe Colibri, or Cafe Hummingbird, to look at the hummingbirds cracking-out on the sugar water in the feeders, then to stop in for coffee, a piece of cake, and time to work on a drawing.  I will furnish an image of the bird I just finished



It is a species of euphonia.  Yes, that is its real name!

You wouldn´t believe all the attention this drawing attracted.  As many as six people or more, from England, Italy, New York, and locals, stopped to see, comment, compliment.  One even, with my permission of course, took a picture of the drawing.  I was asked if they were for sale and said that I wasn´t really pushing for that, but that I wouldn´t turn down any reasonable offer.  I did get the drawing finished after a couple of hours of, well, goofing-off!  There were also a couple of small birds, a species of tanager, I think, but not brightly coloured, coming into the cafe to pick crumbs off the floor.



Yeah, two of these little guys.  Kind of cute, eh?  But I´m not likely to represent them in my art.  I seem to do highly coloured birds better.  But you never know if I might change my mind in the future.

Costa Rica 20

I am past the halfway point of my time here in Monteverde.  I am on the second last page of my sketchbook before I begin the new one I brought down with me.  I think that so far I am achieving my goals for this visit, which are neither many nor very lofty.  Specifically I am here to do art, tons of art, eight hours a day, whether in my room, or in the dining room here or in a local coffee shop.  I tried painting outdoors with limited success due to the constant strong winds here. 

I am also here for a siritual retreat.  As many of you know I take an annual trip for one month in Latin America, always in March, primarily to improve my level of Spanish.  But there is another, more fundamental reason for these annual excursions.  I have timed them to follow the day of my birthday, February 29, when it does occur, being Leap Year.  This is my way of annually adjusting my life clock, so to speak.  It gives me a much needed break away from work, my neighbourhood, and the Vancouver winter blahs, and it allows me a lot of time for prayer, solitude, reflection and reviewing my life.  When I´m away I am always meeting people, seeing and experience things that inspire me to make positive and constructive changes in my life for the next year: the way I communicte with and interact with others, my attitudes, the way I eat and exercise, the way I work, the way I treat my friends and others, for example.

Everywhere I go, I always seem to encounter something that is being done right there, that isn´t necessarily happening at home, and often I am inspired to think of ways of adapting this new way of being for when I return to Canada.  Here in Monteverde, for example, I am very impressed by the level of trust and goodwill that people appear to have towards one another and towards strangers here.  I have mentioned already how mellow and gentle the neighbourhood dogs are, even though they are allowed free rage in the community.  Even a pitbull with puppies.  I was also struck by the attitude of kindness that was shown to me when I got lost on Sunday while hiking up the mountain back to Monteverde.  When I entered this small farming collective literally cut off from everything else on the mountainside, I was totally impressed by these things:

1. No guard dogs threatened or attacked me.
2. No one came out with a shotgun or other sign of threat to get me off their property.
3. I was treated kindly and offered a glass of water when I did inquire in one of the houses.
4. Two children were confident and competent to show me the way out.
5. Their dog was friendly and affectionate.

This is nothing like Vancouver where everyone seems to be afraid of everyone else.  I think I have already mentioned to some of you that in my home city, every day, I make a point of saying hi to at least two strangers, and on occasion this has precipitated in an enjoyable conversation or two, and who only knows?  Some new friendships could develop from this.  So, my time here in Monteverde is only encouraging me to keep doing this when I come home, to bring back with me, as it were, some of the positive essence of this place, both human, and nature (though we humans are, of course, part of nature!) and see how I can apply it to my own living environment.

I did say that we all leave a footprint.  We are always influencing and impacting those around us and sometimes it can take only a smile or a kind word to help someone else avert disaster.  It´s not necessarily going to be easy, but hey! Nothing that´s worth having ever comes cheap.

Costa Rica 19

I often feel like I´m the only solitary traveller in Monteverde.  Maybe it´s because I am the only solitary traveller in Monteverde.  Or almost so.  I really have trouble understanding how any couple can vacation together for two weeks or so, being constantly together, always in each other´s faces, and often tripping over each other, without somehow jeopardizing their romantic union.  Or killing the thrill anyway.  Or maybe you just have to be built for it, just as some of us are designed to travel solo.  I don´t think this has anything to do, really, with not doing well with other people, or with not being able to cope well with solitude.  I think we really are all built a bit differently.

I have noticed in other situations of travel that when you have a few solo travellers staying in the same establishment, they tend to interact more and often develp new friendships.  I suppose this also happens sometimes with couples but I´d say it´s pretty rare.  Most of the couples I have noticed here at the bed and breakfast in Monteverde seem pretty absorbed in each other.  I imagine, too, that some of them might be working out problems in their relationship, hence, the vacation together.  I did run across a couple of friendly couples (am I allowed to phrase it this way?  Well, I did, so let´s get on with it, eh?)  There was that really nice young British couple I already told you about, as well as, I think, a lesbian couple from England and France respectively.  The two women and I actually were pretty shy of one another for a while, then eventually friendly curiosity took hold, and we had a couple of brief but very enjoyable chats.  But they seem more the exception.  One of the less pleasant such pairings were two rather wealthy looking Ameircans, suspected Republicans.  Yesterday, when Mr. Suspected Republican was asking the manager about the route to the cloud forest reserve I mentioned casually, and in a friendly way, that it´s a lovely walk if the road isn´t muddy.  He looked and replied in such a tone of voice as to suggest, how dare someone of my low social status presume to speak to him.  This morning we were at neighbouring tables, ignoring each other.  I did enter with a bit of a flair, I have to admit.  You see, the hotel keys are attached to a large wooden butterfly.  I have only to let it drop on the table and it makes quite a bang.  So, the passive aggressive imp inside me took control, I waltzed into the breakfast room and simply dropped the wooedn butterfly on the table and what a bang it made.  They looked postitively frightened and this of course has turned into my own dear little way of announcing I´m here, so get used to it!

Nothing else to report today, really.  I spent two hours in Cafe Cabure, that expensive place with the huge balcony where I spent around thirteen bucks Canadian for a decaf coffee and brownie with ice cream.  You could say I only go there when I am feeling stinkin´ rich and that doesn´t happen too often.  I also had a nice visit at the soda with the señoras.  We were talking about dogs and I mentioned to one of them how in Vancouver and elsewhere in North America people have gone absolutely barmy over dogs and treat them like family members and substitute children and four-legged best friends forever.  She doesn´t think that´s healthy.  I told her that I totally agree with her but don´t dare open my mouth about this at home because dog owners simply have lost their reasoning capacities when it comes to their furry little babies.  (sorry, dog owners, but I am not sorry for writing this!) Oh,  and have I mentioned that dogs are allowed to wander around freely here?  Everyone´s totally chill about it and all the dogs are gentle, some are friendly.  But I think it works okay because the dogs are not treated as honorary humans and they simply know their place in the community.  It´s amazing some of the conversations my skills in Spanish are opening up for me down here in Costa Rica.

Costa Rica 18

Today, Gentle Reader, I did something rather stupid and adventurous.  No, you can´t have the one without the other.  There is a small village below Monteverde called San Luis.  It is accessible by a very steep road and it is one long hike.  It is so steep that on my previous visit here I really had trouble navegating the way down and I was really shaky and exhausted when I got to the bottom.  I have been naturally afraid to tackle this hike since arriving here on this my fourth visit.  Today I decided to try it again.

Much to my surprise the hike was easier going this time.  It was still a bit hard, especially for my knees, but I seem to be in better physical condition than I was six years and forty pounds ago.  I have forgotten how far the distances are, but we always do seem to forget this, eh?  Wisely, I stopped in a store neaby to purchase a cold beverage, as I didn´t know really the arduous hike ahead of me.  The scenery and the views are incredible, with mountains and trees everywhere.  And tons of butterflies, mostly coloured yellow or orange and a few monarchs as well.

When I tried this hike six years ago I kept walking along a narrow rock road, expecting it to take me back to Monteverde.  Along the way I chickened out, walked back to the store where I purchased a beverage and got the fellow working there to call me a taxi (and he said in his best English, okay, you´re a taxi!) which took me back up the long tortuous hill to the bed and breakfast.

This time I was determined to walk the whole distance even if it killed me.  So I walked.  And I walked.  And I walked.  It was all uphill and as it got very steep and rocky I was able to find large boulders to sit and rest on along the way.  When I thought I had come to its end I came across a farm community with a collection of well-tended houses.  I wandered around, hoping to find a way out, while watching out for guard dogs and shotguns.  Nothing happened.  I was still lost.  I approached one of the houses and the couple living there, two transplanted Americans were very kind to me.  We spoke in English as it was their language of choice, but there is something comforting about being helped in your mother tongue.  I tried to find my way out without success.  Then two young girls with a friendly Bernese dog helped me find my way back to the correct path.  I have mentoned previously on this blog series about the kindness of strangers. 

When I found the correct route, it was even rockier, steeper and much longer than I would have imagined.  Accepting that I am sixty-one and no longer thirty, I paced myself with great care, stopping every fifty paces or so to take ten deep breaths, and taking advantage of resting on any sittable rock that presented itself.  This was when I had one of my more memorable bird sightings here.  Here is the image again if I can refresh your memory



It´s called a golden browed chlorophonia.  They are tiny.  I saw four of them or so in this small tree nearby.  Every bit as beautiful as a quetzal, they just don´t have rock star status.

I did eventually make it to the top and hobbled my way to the soda for a bite to eat.  The hike was about four hours altogether.  I feel fine right now but I´ll probably be paying for it tomorrow.

Costa Rica 17

Let me begin with this public declaration.  I have found my missing pen.  It was in my jeans pocket all this time.  I have mentioned this to the manager and the chambermaid is exonerated.

I have just witnessed one of the more spectacular of the many spectacular sunsets that seem to occur here every day.  Sorry, but I have no images to furnish, Gentle Reader, and you are simply going to have to apply your imagination.

I had a lengthy chat at breakfast with the youngest son of the family here.  He would be twenty and speaks flawless English.  His accent is actually Canadian and I even told him, in Spanish, that if he was in Canada (he has never been to Canada or the US), no one would know he´s Latin American, nor even care, since everybody lives in Canada.  He says he learned English at school here in Monteverde and also from his many English speaking friends and acquaintances in the Gringo community here.

I walked into Santa Elena today, stopping to work on a drawing in the bakery cafe.  Two different women, one British, the other American-Australian stopped to comment and asked if I was selling any of my drawings here.  I tend to be noncommital when this comes up, and just say that it isn´t a stated goal but I am open to the idea, so, who knows?  At a supermarket in Santa Elena I bought different packages of nuts, raisins and chocolate covered peanuts and raisins to add to my dwindling supply of trail mix.  I try to bring a big container of trail mix with me when I travel since I can never be sure of the nutritional balance I´m getting while on the road. 

Later, in the soda, I chatted for a while with one of the ladies who works there.  She was curious about my art materials, since she hasn´t seen this kind of variety of colours in Costa Rica, and I told her, all in Spanish of course, how you can get almost anything in Vancouver.  We also talked about blackflies, and wasps and venemous snakes. 

It´s been a cool and damp sort of day and a lot of people were dressed like it´s winter and they were in Canada.  It really wasn´t that cold, perhaps sixteen or seventeen degrees and I was out in my shirtsleeves.  The sun did come out for a while and it was spectacular.  It rained quite a bit last night and this morning, making the road muddy for a while in places, but much better than all the dust the last couple of days and the strong winds and the big vehicles blowing it into our faces and eyes.  The wind is always strong here.  It is awe-inspiring!

So, Gentle Reader, your humble scribe is sore from hiking and climbing hills, tired and almost out of things to say tonight.  God bless all of us.

Costa Rica 16

I basically have the same daily routine as I appear to be aging into a real creature of habit.  I had yet another night of segmented sleep.  I was so exhausted last night that I fell asleep before nine then woke up at around two am.  I lay awake for a couple of hours, then got up, had a shower and got dressed.  Following some artwork I went back to sleep at around six or so then got up just before eight and I do feel fairly rested today. Following breakfast, as usual, I stayed in the dining room to work on a drawing, sometimes while chatting in Spanish with Estaban the manager of the bed and breakfast.  At around eleven I walked down to Stella´s bakery cafe, the local legend.  When I first visited Stella´s in 1994 it was much smaller and had a warmer, cosier vibe.  This was before big tourism really hit Monteverde and most of the local visitors were backpackers and other bohemians like your humble scribe here.  It was also a lot smaller.  And cheaper.  Way cheaper.  Somewhere along the way the price range completely lost its moral compass and spiraled astronomically.   Today I paid the equivalent of $3.50 Canadian for a cup of coffee that would have set me back, maybe two bucks in Vancouver, which as we all know is the world´s third most expensive city following Sydney and Hong Kong.  On the other hand, the staff there are nice and very pleasant.  I was watching their bird feeders from where I was seated, but they only attracted a rather large squirrel, which might have been frightening off the birdies.  Did I already mention that there are squirrels, here, Gentle Reader?   Rather like our own in Vancouver, a bit bigger and with slightly different coloration, besides the sunglasses and the bar drinks with pink parasols they carry everywhere, not to mention their funny beach hats.  Okay, I made up the bit about the beach hats.

I fondly remember Stella from during my first visit to Monteverde during the nineties.  I am told she is still with us, and would be in her late eighties.  She settled here in Monteverde many decades ago from the UK, a gifted painter, and really a lovely person with a great sense of humour.  We struck up quite a friendly rapport and I remember helping her arrange some of her paintings she had on display in her coffee shop.  Those days are long gone and will be always fondly remembered by me.

I hiked up to the Curi-Cancha reserve again.  The young fellow working there gave me an even more generous discount on my entrance fee this time.  I think I already mentioned that I eat every day at the soda where his mother works and I do accept this kindness as a sign of gratitude, as well as evidence of kindness and friendship.  I think people really appreciate my efforts at communicating in Spanish with them and I certainly appreciate their patience with me as I stumble sometimes with the language and their gentle way of correcting my errors.

I saw another morpho butterfly in the reserve, one of those famously blue giants, lots of hummingbirds and a motmot.   Still no quetzals.  There weren´t any tour groups of birders around to make their day difficult for them.  I guess I´m particularly concerned that they are being frightened and traumatized by all the innocent interest people take in them because they are not a very common bird and at times they do hover rather dangerously near to the endangered category.  As well as being incredibly beautiful, they do not adapt that well to change and I would hate to see them decrease even more in population because of the extreme, if well-meaning interest being taken in them.  I only wish they could learn to adapt better, maybe become nice and aggressive like crows during the nesting season.  Now wouldn´t that be a sight: aggressive nesting quetzals divebombing and attacking human interlopers to their nesting territory and carrying off their Tilly hats to use as nesting material.  It would be win-win.  The quetzals would feel safer and more respected while making themselves more visible for their beauty to be enjoyed.

There were a few more humans present than last time and I have to admit, I prefer nature unpeopled, so I really try to get away from groups when I´m out in the forest.  The hiking hasn´t been quite so exhausting today, maybe because I´m getting in shape from all the mega-hiking.  Did I tell you that my belt is down by two notches, since I arrived here?  And it isn´t just my imagination.  My clothes are loser than ever.  I only hope I can maintain this momentum when I return home instead of gaining back all the weight I have lost.

While eating in the soda this afternoon I was joined by one of the local American Quakers who works in the school here.  He is from New York and we had a really interesting conversation, almost all in Spanish.  We talked a lot about the huge ideological gulf that seems to be dividing the people of the US and in Europe.  I hope to meet him again.

People, both in Stella´s and in the soda took interest in my art today.  In Stella´s a Parisian lady of a certain age who was here with seven other retired French people (yes, I did count them as I do have a lot of time on my hands these days), who spoke not a word of Spanish or English, stood by me to look at my drawing and became very curious about my materials, so we still were able to communicate.  Good will really tends to connect people better than almost anything else, I´d say.

Costa Rica 15

I will begin with last night.  I was having a pleasant conversation with a British couple in my bed and breakfast only to realize after a few minutes that I was speaking English.  It really felt strange, those familiar words of my mother tongue spilling clumsily from my mouth and I thought I could hear an accent in my voice.  When I was interpreting for them with the mother of the family here, who speaks only Spanish, I had to stop myself from speaking to the Brits in Spanish.  We were getting information about restaurants in the area as they wanted to celebrate their last night here in a reasonably elegant joint.

Back in my room I discovered that one of my pens had gone missing.  It hadn´t fallen under the bed nor anywhere else and I am fairly certain that it likely found a new home in the chambemaid´s pocket.  Then the jerks at the next hotel decided to have another party and not even my earplugs could block out the noise as I struggled to get to sleep.  Finally, I got up, got dressed and walked over to reception and the manager, who is the eldest son of the family who owns the bed and breakfast here, phoned them to ask them to turn the music down, which they did.  They don´t like the people in the next hotel either, it seems and we are unanimous that people like them ought to stay in San Jose, since the natural beauty of Monteverde seems wasted on them.

I didn´t have the greatest sleep last night, but I really don´t know if it was from the stress, since I often tend to sleep poorly anyway and I just do what I can to work around it.  This morning a hummingbird was singing from a small branch on the azalea bush just outside my door.  When I returned from breakfast he was still there, singing his heart out.  Maybe he wants me to draw him.  The bed and breakfast manager´s little niece, whom I think is around four or five, showed me another one of her drawings, a colourful abstract of geometric forms and very advanced for a kid so young.  She gave it to me as a gift and in exchange she accepted one of my hummingbird drawings.  This was all done in Spanish, by the way.

I spent an unusually pleasant two hours drawing in Cafe Cabure, that pricey joint with the huge balcony and wonderful view of the forest.  No badly behaved kids this time and no stinky old men right next to me who seem allergic to deodarant and soap.  By the way, do you know what old men smell like?  Depends.

While walking I started chatting with a mature Argentinian couple in Spanish.  They live in Bariloche, which is kind of like the Whistler of Argentina.  I helped them find their way to the butterfly museum.  They seemed a bit hesitant when I showed them a shortcut, and I suppose I shouldn´t blame them, given that I´m a complete stranger and blah, blah, blah.  We all were intrigued by a green circular stadium nearby and we wondered if it is used for bullfighting.  I thought that this might be one of those secrets that places that are popular with international tourists would want to keep under wraps.  I just asked the manager of the bed and breakfast and he confirmed that bullfighting does occur here in the stadium in April.  The good news is the bulls aren´t killed or mistreated, since that´s illegal in Costa Rica.  On the other hand, I´m sure there are other things the bulls would rather be doing in their spare time.

With some amusement I have been observing here the kind of toxic masculinity that Latin American countries are famous for.  A lot of the men walk as though they are wearing stainless steal jockey shorts (well, maybe not totally stainless!)  And a lot of the dare devil risk-taking, such as my observations in a recent post of how they carelessly ride side saddle on the backs of pick up trucks bumping along on rough rock and dirt roads.  Today, I saw more of this, the way this guy was slowly backing his tanker truck full of natural gas, on a narrow dirt and rock road, all the while yapping on his phone as though he didn´t have a care in the world.  There were three of these gas tanker trucks altogether, each trying to negotiate space on the narrow road and for a while I got caught between them.  Who knows what might have unfolded if worst case scenario happened.

Costa Rica 14

I used to enjoy meeting and chatting with fellow Canadians while travelling.  It always seemed nice to have someone nearby to remind me of home.  Some recent travel experiences have made me a little more reserved about this.  In Mexico City, it was a registered nurse from Toronto who, after snapping that she was an atheist when I mentioned casually and inconsequentially that I´m a Christian, morosely insisted that the then Stephen Harper government had irreparably ruined our country and we would never heal from the damage.  I agreed with her about Harper, but somehow couldn´t convince her that perhaps there was hope, then, remembering that atheists generally are unable to do hope, I just let it go.  My next memorable encounter abroad with a fellow Canadian occured two years ago in Bogota.  This fellow was a military man, conservative in both the small and the big c sense, and hated nonwhite immigrants.  I made myself scarce very quickly when he showed his true colours.

I have instructed the people at the bed and breakfast where I am staying here that should any other Canadians arrive, to please instruct them that I speak only Spanish, at least while in Monteverde.  In the soda today there was a family group of Canadians, I suspect from my part of the country.  After hearing their conversation I was determined not to make myself known, and besides, I was speaking to the staff only in Spanish (very good Spanish, if I must say so, myself)

Every time I see or encounter other white North Americans (and Europeans) here in Monteverde, it´s like looking at a very unflattering mirror.  It´s not that we´re all so bad.  We´re not, really.  We just come across as such absolute idiots, sometimes, and worse, because everyone I see here is travelling either with their families, as couples, or with friends.  Their hanging together and speaking nothing but English to each other just seems to increase their isolation from their host country.  I have come across but one other solo traveller since arriving here and he seemed so grumpy and unfriendly that I just gave up saying hi to him in the breakfast room.

A lot of people seem reluctant or scared to travel alone and in their pairs or groups they so reinforce each other and their North American or European characteristics that they seem completely impregnable by the surrounding culture.  Perhaps that is why people really don´t like to travel alone.  Fear, not of being robbed or killed or anything, but fear of losing their precious Gringo or European identity, if but a little bit, for the joy of adapting to a new culture.

I generally prefer solitary travel because I like the way this opens me up to the new culture.  There is always something to gain and to learn this way.  It does carry its risks, but who ever said that life is going to be risk-free?

In the meantime, I continue on my daily walks, greeting strangers, making conversation in Spanish with anyone who wants to stop to chat a bit, and simply enjoying this strange but beautiful music of another culture.  Speaking Spanish is an invaluable asset, of course, and I really think that if you´re going to spend even a week or two here, it is worthwhile to familiarize yourself with the language.
In order to travel well, not as a tourist, but perhaps as an apt student of life, one has to virtually ignore the tourist industry, and basically unlearn everything we´ve been told about foreign travel and simply make ourselves vulnerable enough to receive what the people whose country we are visiting have to offer.

It´s time to take consumerism out of travel and to learn new ways of becoming friends and allies with the countries we are visiting.  This doesn´t mean we all have to join CUSO or CIDA.  I´m thinking more of the idea of travel with an open mind and an open heart.  To be willing to be changed or transformed by the experience and to return home with something new and valuable that we can contribute to our own country, keeping in mind that with this different way of travelling we are really helping to transform the world into one country.

Costa Rica 13

I have been noticiing trucks today, but only because of some of their passengers.  The first one was an open pickup truck with a couple of young guys standing up in the back, apparently unaware or not caring that the bumpy ride on the dirt road could send them both to their eternal reward.  On the way back from Santa Elena there were two other young men riding the back of a pickup sidesaddle, and I had to look twice.  Then, while seated on a bench to admire the view of the Nicoya Peninsula I thought I heard someone hollering to me from a passing vehicle, but it turned out to be a couple of goats bleating from the back of another pickup.  A very human sounding bleat, at that.

I am enjoying becoming better acquainted with some of the local people.  There seems to be a very friendly vibe here and I like to participate in it.  I often have very interesting chats with one of the sons of the family that owns the bed and bed and breakfast, today also with his mother, then later I encountered the son of one of the ladies who works at the soda where I have dinner.  Even if an extended stay in a place can seem a bit long and boring at times, there is the benefit of getting to know the place a bit better and some of the people who live here.  It can also be a very ferile ground for spiritual and self exploration.

I have mentioned that this is for me, principally, a spiritual retreat. I can explain a bit further here.  As I am having more time alone and to be still and away from a lot of the familiar distractions of ordinary life, there are certain memories from my childhood and other parts of my past that have been surfacing, giving me time to get a better perspective of how these early experiences have formed me and influenced the direction of my life, and also how to take concrete steps towards further healing.  It is a rather intense and  laborious and sometimes painful process, but I am ready for this and this signals that it is time for me to grow some more.

I saw again a group of three urracas azules, or blue magpie jays.  They are always in a group of three, for some reason.  I might draw one while I´m here in Monteverde.  Here´s an image again to refresh your memory, if the computer will allow it through its security filtre, if not, just google blue magpie jays google images and you will see them for themselves.

Nope, couldn´t do it.  And now a big fat Canadian SORRY!

Costa Rica 12

If this trip doesnt kill me first it can only mke me stronger. I just did another, longer and more extensive hike in la reserva Curi Cancha.  What steep, winding and never ending trails set in an absolue Eden of lush tropical beauty and natural grandeur!  I was completely alone this time, two and a half hours of near absolute solitude but for the forest and the wildlife surrounding me.  Of course there was the usual group of morons crowding around a tree with a quetzal perched in it with all their fancy and cumbersome viewing equipment, likely traumatizing the poor bird.  I do believe that most of us when we travel leave half our brain at home, and the other half seems to just stay inside the suitcase.  The tour guide tried to gesture to me to come join them to look at the quetzal but I wasnt biting this time.  Those birds, like the others, deserve to be treáted with respect, so I ignored them and walked on to the hummingbird garden.  It seemed nearly perfect and I had just begun working in my sketchbook when the same herd of dopes descended on me to get their close ups of the hummingbirds.  I was disgusted, partly for their lack of good manners the way they intruded on me, and partly for their lack of respect for the hummingbirds.  I promptly packed up my stuff and left.  I did see a trogon fly by, a relative of the quetzal and I think its going to be the next bird for me to draw.  Here´s an image



It may not come up on the page, but I did my best.  I´ll try another image.

Nope.  Tried aagain, and still no image.  this computer is hyper secure and blocks almost everything.  You´re just going to have to guess what it looks like, or Google black throated trogon, google images, and see for yourself.

The young man at the reception gave me the students´discount.  His mother works at the soda where I have dinner and they all seem to like me so far, and vice versa.

After wearing myself out on the steep, serpentine trails, I stopped to rest for a half hour on a bench with an incredible view of the valley and the forest covered mountains.  I saw very little in the way of birds, but I´m not really worried about it.  They don´t exist for our pleasure and of course they are going to be completely indifferent to our existence.  I only wish that the die hard birders would figure that out.

If a resplendent quetzal in the meantime wants me to see it, I´m sure it will show itself to me in good time. 

Costa Rica 11

Its been a very tranquil summery kind of day.  The temperature must have been in the low twenties, very similar to Vancouver in July.  I walked around a lot as usual, taking a rather long dead end road full of towering trees and cow pastures.  I heard a toucan croaking like a frog with a soar throat from the trees but couldnt quite see him.  The rock star birds are often if not always the hardest to notice.  Then I wandered to a bakery cafe for chocolate cake and coffee and to finish one drawing and start a new one, then I wandered along a couple of other dead end roads full of trees and dazzling sunlight.  Lots of hills to climb and this can be daunting to the poorly conditioned and even challenging to the already physically fit.

I stopped for an early dinner at the little soda in the gringo compound.  This little  restaurant with tasty cheap eats is like an island of authenticity among the pretentious neo hippy gringo stores in the area.  One of the ladies, a woman of perhaps fifty, and I often chat in Spanish and she expressed kind of a good natured contempt for a lot of the visitors here who really dont seem to give a damn about the people who live here.  She and her associate seem really interesting, bright, strong and resourceful women whose families have probably lived in Costa Rica for generations.

A lot of people here never travel as it is very expensive, and it is so clear how we who can make these trips seem to treat it as an entitlement rather than a very special privilege. Life for the locals is becoming very expensive with foreigners, principally from North America , buying property and pushing up land prices and the cost of everything else.  This seems to be part of a global phenomonen.  I only wish that something could be done to curb the greed, especially of property owners intent on selling.  I dont see why our governments couldnt exact a maximum price on land and real estate sales to keep everything within an affordable range.  Of course, the most beautiful and livable places, such as Vancouver and Costa Rca, are also going to be the most coveted and before you know it they will become ghettos for the rich, unless concrete and direct action is taken.

I trudged back to the bed and breakfast and they really treated me well, as always.  The laptop that I was loaned, for free, wasnt functioning, so father and son teamworked together for a good half hour or so to set me up with a functioning computer.  These people are so incredibly kind and I hope to never take them for granted.

Costa Rica 10

When I am visiting another country I always work at trying to get a sense of how people live, of who they are.  Here, in Monteverde, one gets a sense of different social classes, even if Costa Rica doesnt have a class system.  Today, while walking up the road to the cloud forest reserve entrance I saw a crew of men doing roadwork.  The first one refused to respond to my Spanish.  I have noticed at times while visiting Latin American countries that people with low education are less likely to either believe that a white person can even speak Spanish or to give us the time of day no matter how well we speak it.  They seem to take foreigners who are fluent in their language as a personal insult.  Fortunately, their kind seem pretty rare and most people seem willing and even eager to engage with a visitor in Spanish.  There were others working on the road, or taking a cigarette break. One of them was urinating on the side of the road, fortunately with his back facing the traffic.  I wonder if theyve ever heard of portapotties here.  Some of them had dark complexions, like Nicaraguans, and they could be some of the five hundred thousand Nicaraguans living and working in Costa Rica.  I wonder what kind of life they come home to at the end of the day.  Their living conditions, what they eat, what kind of support they have from friends or family, what they have to live and suffer through every day, what makes them smile and laugh. I wonder about the state of their mental health, given the stresses they have to live with.  There is of course racism in Costa Rica, as there is all over the world.  I have mentioned previously that some Costa Ricans still pride themselves for being the whitest people in Central America, even though it has been found that on average Costa Ricans have forty to sixty percent indigenous blood flowing in their veins,

Following a visit to the hummingbird gallery and the cafe near the cloud forest reserve I was walking back when the owner of the bed and breakfast where Im staying stopped to give me a ride.  He told me a bit about the history of Monteverde, of how in the seventies there were few motor vehicles and almost everyone got around on horseback.  He told me about some of the people who have immigrated here from all over Europe, only to become successful and well to do entrepreneurs, even pointing out the impressive modern mansion hugging the mountainside where live the owners of a local and very successful Italian restaurant.

Monteverde would clearly be different things to different people.  For the average tourist it is a place of natural beauty where they can get their nature fix for a couple of days before moving down to one of the beaches or elsewhere.  They are not likely to take much interest in the local people.  But the people are the land, just as the land is the people.  And I think that peple from privileged situations should think about these matters good and hard before going on vacation somewhere, perhaps to get the idea that the people living in the country they are visiting matter a little bit more than their bucket list.

It was a cab driver here who told me recently that he thanks the tourists who come here for opening his eyes to how beautiful his part of the world is.  I told him that I have had a similar experience in Vancouver, where I have lived all my life, just as the cab driver has spent his entire life in Monteverde.  I didnt even know that there was anything special or beautiful about Vancouver until I kept hearing from visitors the same thing over and over again, that I live in a beautiful part of the world.

I have already mentioned that foreign ownership, especially by North Americans has been pushing up land and other prices in this country, making life increasingly difficult for the people who call Costa Rica their home.  Everytime anyone wants to complain about foreign millionaires turning Vancouver into a giant Chinese laundry, or of Chinese only signs without English translation should give a thought or three of what white Americans and Canadians are doing here in Costa Rica.  Basically the same thing, not even trying to learn Spanish in some cases, and you wouldnt believe the number of English only signs I see here every day in this very special part of a small Spanish speaking country.  We really have no right to complain when we consider that we are just as bad and often worse when it comes to the economic colonization of other countries.

We all leave a footprint on this earth, and we are all responsible for what kind of footprint, how large, and how its going to impact future generations.