Costa Rica Again 9

Well, I didn't write anything yesterday, Gentle Reader, because, really, nothing happened.  I went for a walk, saw some fabulous blue morpho butterflies, stopped for coffee, then walked down to Santa Elena where I bought a bag of trail mix, then on the way back stopped for a while longer in the same coffee shop, then ate something in la Cuchara, then walked back to the bed and breakfast, where I mostly stayed in my room because the grandchildren were being rather energetic in the reception area and I was feeling rather grumpy.  I  also saw some more white throated magpie jays, those big blue and white magpies the size of crows, and one of the local guys and I were watching them together.  In Spanish they are called urracas.  Well, this little paragraph would have made up my entire blogpost for one day.

Boring.

Today was more interesting.  I did laundry this morning.  (Oh, I can see you are all on the edge of your seats.)  Well, I basically make myself at home there, and I have full permission to go into their home and use the machines, with a little support if I get a bit confused, which happens sometimes.  Meanwhile I was reading some more of my blog in preparation for putting together some material for a presentation at work, and possibly for other future uses.  

Esteban was on the phone to the manager of the cloud forest reserve, and it is now confirmed that I have to pay only once, and all my other treks in the jungle will be free.  I only need to show my passport to confirm my identity each time I arrive.  Not a bad deal, eh?

I walked up there anyway, after my laundry was done, and went to the Café Colibrí (or Café Hummingbird) near the entrance because I thought I might owe them some money on an accidental dine and dash that happened on Sunday.  So I told them that I was there that day and couldn't remember paying for my drink.  Well, neither could they, so they forgave my debt, so I stayed and ordered another drink, which I promptly paid for up front.  As I was sitting down, they asked me if I could share a table with a young American woman from Boston instead, since there was a big tour bus full of senior visitors coming in, and soon the place was swamped by geriatric Americans all from Arkansas, all Christians, and they all seemed to have Red State Republicans written all over them, and they ended up all sharing my table once the young Bostonian had left.  Of course, nothing was mentioned about El Presidente Dump, and lo and behold, I found them to be kind, charming, engaging and really nice lovely people.  We talked about my art and the cruise they were all on, and the correct way to pronounce empanada, etcetera, and one old guy insisted on giving me a ten dollar bill and wouldn't take no for an answer.  They also enjoyed seeing some of my art, and I was taking care to carry dirty dishes to the counter so nothing would pile up.  .And the old guy even took my picture!

After they left, I stayed a while to work on my current drawing, then explored again some trails above the cafe, only to come across a private property sign, but that didn't stop me from exploring a bit further, though I did try to take care in case I ran into any aggressive dogs.   I did a good long walk on the way back, stopped again in the Cafe Monteverde for a banana and orange juice smoothie, chatted a bit with staff, then chatted also in English with another American, a rock musician and DJ who is on the opposite end of the political spectrum from the old folks from Arkansa, so we could safely talk about the situation in the White House, and also just a downright pleasant dude.  When I mentioned that I'm from Canada, the first word that came out of his mouth was Vancouver, where he has visited and loves the place.  Instant friends.  Then I had dinner again at la Cuchara next door, where one of the staff scolded me affectionately for not coming in sooner when there's still more food available.  Marina, the other worker  there and I, as usual, had an enjoyable chat in Spanish while I was filling my face with fried plantain (platano), beans, rice, cheese, salad and broccoli and cauliflower and green beans. 

Since I have spent a good part of today talking to Americans, here is a link to Rick Mercer's famous (in Canada, anyway) "Talking to Americans" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZREHsC6eNM

One further word, Gentle Reader, and then I'll shut up for the night.  There is a sense of, not exactly unreality here in Monteverde, but kind of a collective sense of suspended disbelief.  There are many layers to this, and this is further augmented by the wild, almost savage beauty of Monteverde.  But there are also all the restaurant and shops and services geared towards tourists, the sizeable community of landed Gringos (many of whom are actually pretty progressive, open-minded and well integrated with the community here), and the noticeable absence of poverty and other social problems that are usually more evident in other parts of the country.  Add to this mix the many visiting students and research scientists, and this indelible atmosphere of magical realism, and you have Monteverde.  All for now, Ducks!