Costa Rica 7

Im not sure what kind of theme to unify this post around.  Maybe Ill begin with sleep deprivation, which seems to afflict me perhaps two nights out of five.  One would think that here in the beautiful tranquility of the semi wilderness of Monteverde, with nothing to do but draw, hike, chat in Spanish and read in Spanish that there would be no reason in the world for waking up in the small hours of the morning and staying that way for the next two or three hours, but it happens to me anywhere and everywhere so it must simply be the way I am wired and the best thing in the world is to simply find creative ways of living with it, even if it means having to drag my heiny around two days a week in a semi hungover state with no wild partying the night before to justify it.

Its also going to at times affect my mood and put a damper n my ability to enjoy things.  The dreams I have during these periods of partial insomnia are often strident and loud and generally indicate some issues I havent yet dealt with, so Im beginning to think of insomnia as kind of a psychic early warning system for dealing with my crap.  Having lots of quiet time this month, I am going to have to look more within than usual, and I feel ready for this.  This is, for me, primarily a spiritual retreat, though I say Im here to do art, hike and look at birds, but this is what I say to people because most peoples eyes just glaze over when they hear the word spirititual.

Here is an image of the bird I saw today,a summer tanager



I suppose that grumpiness is its own reward, and because of sleep dep I certainly have been less than cheerful today, but also I try to embrace this as an opportunity to grow, and especially to accept and respect that things arent always going to go the way I want them to.  For example, today at Cafe Cabure, where they have the lovely long shaded balcony with the view, I was hoping for a little peace and tranquility while putting the finishing touches on my peacock drawing.  No such luck with a family of five, three horribly behaved kids to hold everyone hostage and expecially the little girl with perma whine.  I am cutting her some slace, however, as she might have been sick.  But they seemed like a typical North Amercan child centred, or should I say, child dominant family.  You know the kind I mean, Mom and Dad arent really emotionally mature enough themselves to be parents, like most couples of their generation, and their spoilt little brats have them wrapped around their middle fingers.  Likely from having to work long hours at home they feel guilty for neglecting their kids then cave to their every whim and demand.  Its the idea of being your kids friend instead of their parent.  Sorry, but even though I draw the line at hitting, I am a bit old fashioned when it comes to child rearing.  I did have to use earplugs and fortunately they did leave eventually.  Then came the German speaking family with the grandpa who doesnt use deoderant, or bathe very often.  I was downwind.  I couldnt stay.  Yes, hell is other tourists, but I dont think a lot of people travel very well in the first place, especially families.  Everyone seems so rushed to see and do things and go places and check off their bucket list that they only seem to really enjoy themselves when theyre drunk.

This is why I like to take my time.  Not having a car is really an asset.  No, I dont get to see as much or go to as many places but I feel more grounded and more centred in the place where Im visiting.  I think that if you really want to experience the essence of where you are visiting it is important to take your time, walk a lot and to not try to fit too much in.

And to also remember that people are more important than places.

Costa Rica 6

Ive been here almost a week and nothing really has happened, and thats okay.  I am intentionally ignoring the news while Im here.  Before I proceed, let me apologize for the rotten punctuation of these recent posts. Latin American computer keyboards dont work the way ours do in Canada, and I really dont have time to figure it out, so youll just have to bear with me.

One thing I have noticed is children here seem a lot better behaved than our North American brats.  They still play a lot and can be noisy and exuberant, but I have only heard shrill squealing from North American kids, since I got here.  I imagine the children here feel very secure and loved because they seem very calm and happy.

Today has been as always.  I splurged a bit and went to one of the forest reserves where I paid the equivalent of twenty dollars Canadian.  Its a lower elevation and the climate is dryer so the vegetation isnt quite as lush and dense as in the big cloud forest up the mountain.  But its a dry day today so there was no mud on the trails. And the bright sunlight shining through the leaves and foilage was downright dazzling.  There was a lot of climbing up steep hills so its an excellent workout.  I think I was the only human present, though the birds and other wildlife appeared to be well hidden.  I did sight a couple of brilliant blue morpho butterflies again.

There is a cheap soda, or, traditional Costa Rican restaurant, not too far away in what I call the Gringo Hippy Compound.  It is a collective of arts and crafts, yoga and natural foods, etc.  where lots of English is spoken and you will spot more dreadlocks than I used to see on Commercial Drive fifteen years ago.
The food is good, tasty, nutritious and cheap and the ladies who work there are nice and totally Spanish speaking Ticas.  They dont seem to like cats much.  There is a beautiful calico who likes to come inside to hang out and shes always chased out.  Poor kitty.  I usually have the vegetarian casado, which is a traditional dish consisting of beans, rice, mixed cooked vegetables, salad, fried plantain, and in my case, cheese, though it could also include chicken, beef or fish.  Very good for the equivalent of say, $7.50 Canadian with cold fruit juice.

Im doing tons of art, still, and working really fast and, I think, really well.  I finished the macaw last night and am well into a drawing of a peacock, which is of course very challenging, especially from memory, but I have more than twenty five paintings of peacocks under my belt and I seem to have memorized their details rather well, though drawing them from memory or from a photo or from life is still going to be pretty challenging.  Peacocks, by the way, are not native to Costa Rica.  I know you already know that, I just like to bug you sometimes, Gentle Reader!

Costa Rica 5

Its been, so far, a delightfully uneventful day.  Last night reminded me a little too much of my neighbourhood in downtown Vancouver.  The hotel next door decided to have a private party and guess who got to listen to the music.  One of the owners phoned them to ask them to turn it down, which they did, though I still kept my earplugs fully intact,just in case.  Before the music was turned down the earplugs, or, my orange little friends, were not enough to block the noise.  I even walked up the dirt road in the dark in search of the place in order to ask them to turn the music down, but the doors were locked and no one was around.  I suspect the party was being held in a building nearby.  It probably was a bit dangerous of me to do that, as, you never know what kind of response you are going to get, but I really didnt want to bug the owners of the bed and breakfast except as a last resort.  They were very good about it and, from their response, I suspect that theyre not overly fond of their neighbours.  I did keep my sense of humour and Luz Mery and I both laughed about the irony of my escaping from downtown Vancouver only to run into it here in the wilds of Costa Rica.  It also gives me a sense of how the natural beauty and power of this place seems wasted on some people.  One would imagine that the silent power of nature is really very scary to people, especially very shallow people who will resort to noise, alcohol and drugs in order to keep at bay their inner void and any insight into how small, weak and vulnerable they really are in the universe.

There is, here in Monteverde, a very interesting and not always compatible mix of people.  There are the locals who have lived here for generations and there are those who move here from other parts of Costa Rica in search of employment in the tourist industry.  Try to imagine a tropical Whistler for well heeled ecotourists and youll get the gist of what Im saying.  Then there are the American Quakers, some of whom have lived here since the fifties, though I think that a lot of them have died off by now.  They have had a very positive influence on this place, especially in terms of encouraging the local people to protect the natural habitat.  The Quakers have also attracted old school hippies from North America and the United Kingdom as well as their offspring hipsters, so that in some areas it often seems as if they are always trying to revive the Summer of Love, or, if you can remember it, then you werent there. On the other hand, they can also be thanked for the Instituto Monteverde which is a local think tank, cultural and educational centre for the promotion of sustainable development and the wellbeing of Monteverde, the natural habitat and the people who live here. There are also the ravaging capitalists of the tourist industry, such as the hotel that was making a racket last night and they are the ugliest feature of the demographic of Monteverde, all night clubbing, partying, drinking, spending lavishly and snorting expensive cocaine. As I mentioned, this beautiful place is wasted on such people and I really think they belong down in San Jose.

And there are of course the tourists, there will always be tourists, especially well off, well monied and well heeled tourists, come of whom are conscientious and thoughtful , while others are, well, well off, well monied and well heeled tourists.  Because of the tourism industry a lot of the signage is in English and anyone who works here has to have a good command of English since not everyone who comes here is going to speak Spanish.  I didnt on my first trip here some twenty three years ago.

Sometimes all I want to do here is sit staring out into the gardens or the tropical forest for hours, watching the light change.  The walking is good and I seem to be already losing weight.  I have gone down one belt notch since last week.  What doesnt kill me will make me stronger.

I have almost finished a drawing I started last night of a blue and gold macaw and I like how its turning out.

On my way back to la Mariposa which is the name of the bed and breakfast where Im staying, I saw a four wheel drive stopped in the middle of the road, the white male tourist standing outside with the drivers door open, practically blocking other vehicles, looking through a camera.  At first I wondered if he was having car trouble but it turned out he was photographing a blue crowned motmot, already pictured in a previous post.

Some people!

Costa Rica 4

This has been rather a gentle day for me, Gentle Reader.  I slept long and well, following a previous night of less than ideal sleep and despite my grumpiness yesterday I soldiered on, exhausting myself.  The hills here are incredibly steep.  What goes down must come up, and this I try to remember every time I am walking downhill.    I still got in around ten miles, or we could say sixteen kilometres, of walking, but not all at once.

Instead of blowing a wad in a pricey cafe somewhere I stayed here at the bed and breakfast till noon, working on the quetzal drawing.  I took a break for a two mile walk as I was getting a little sore in the nether regions from sitting so long on a hard chair.  It was worth it though, not just for the artwork that I got done and not just for having the beautiful gardens and lovely hummingbirds to look at through the window, but also for the friendly contact with some of the family who run this bed and breakfast, the elder son and both his parents.  They are lovely, warm and welcoming people and we seem to have already generated a good mutual fondness.  The father is a talented woodcarver and showed me some of his plaques, including of a quetzal and two distinct faces of nature spirit like bearded old men whom he calls the spirit of the cloud forest.

Speaking of people, I have decded to make as part of my theme for this trip the notion that people matter more than places.  I think this has always been the gist of my travel experience, not to add new and exotic locales to my bucket list but to meet, know and appreciate other people in different settings.  This is why I dont think I really do the tourist thing and I hope that I never will.

I have to learn to stop eavesdropping on other guests during breakfast.  We never talk to one another, as almost everyone here travels as a couple or a family group, and I dont feel excluded since I dont really feel like talking to anyone outside the people who run the place.  This could change later. And I certainly wont shun anyone for reaching out to me.  Still, it isnt that I end up picking up on scandalous details of their personal lives, but rather, I find myself sometimes wanting to kick their ass for being such self centred putzes.  Like this pudgy American hipster with his hair in a man bun griping and whining like a spoiled rich kid who didnt get the right flavour of gourmet ice cream on his birthday cake, to his significant other about everything he was hating about being here so far.  Of course I kept my pie hole shut, was kind of relieved when they were gone, or him at least, since I suspect his partner to be quite a nice person, perhaps which is why she can put up with him.  Or maybe he doesnt do mornings well, is having a bad day, or I mean, why not give him the benefit of the doubt.  I sure dont know whats going on in his life.

I saw my first morpho butterfly today, since coming here.  Here is a Google image to refresh your memory.




These butterlies are huge! Does it get any lovelier.  Well, yes, it does.  To the naked eye anyway.  Try to imagine the purest essence of the colour blue and you will have an idea of how one of these butterflies looks in the open sunlight.

I also feasted my eyes on a small group, too small to be a flock, of troupials.  At least I think they were troupials.






Once again the photo doesnt do the bird justice.  Try and visualize the purest essence of the colour orange and you will get an idea of  how they really look.

All for now.

Costa Rica 3

Its been raining off and on since last night, even though this is the dry season  I tried to walk up to the cloud forest reserve but chickened out after a while because the road was too muddy and slippery.  Its just as well, since I am not planning to go to the reserve itself until I have squirrelled away enough money, but I was planning on visiting the Cafe Colibri and enjoy the hummingbirds there that swarm around the feeders. Colibri, for those who dont speak Spanish, is a word for hummingbird.  I kind of like it better than hummingbird.  Instead of heading back to the bed and breakfast I braved the strong wind and the sporadic drizzle and continued to walk, stopping in a bakery cafe for most of two hours where I had a pleasant conversation with a Chilean couple who seemed attracted to my art.  I am drawing a quetzal right now.  Here is a Google image to refresh your memory of this rock star of the bird world



Im not including the tail since the pages of my sketchbook arent that big.  I have had some more birds sightings today, including blue crowned motmots, and I must have seen at least six of them



I also saw three white throated magpie jays



I also had some nice hummingbird sightings in the garden of my bed and breakfast, while having breakfast by the window and from my room.

Still, if anyone asks me if Im a birdwatcher, the answer is always a flat no.  I dont stalk birds with a camera or binoculars, which I find kind of creepy, actually, when considering the birds point of view.  Birders are a funny breed of geek and I have to admit that they often make me smile.  On the plane to Costa Rica I was sitting next to a woman who told me about all the equipment she was having to pack with her for the birdwatching tour she was going to be on.  I thought, how much work she and other birders could save themselves if theyd just permit themselves to chill and get outside to enjoy it for its own sake.  Maybe by holding still, not wanting to see them so much, by playing a bit hard to get they wont scare the little critters off.  It just seems to be a mentality that I dont relate to, but each to their own, and I will not begrudge anyone for doing what makes them happy, just so long as it doesnt hurt anyone, especially the birds.

I continued to wander around, taking sideroads and enjoying the scenery, the tranquility, and of course the birds, that just seemed to come out of hiding whenever they wanted only to conceal themselves again when they felt like it.  As God ordained.

Later I went to a restaurant near Santa Elena for a smoothie, stayed to work further on the quetzal drawing, then ordered something to eat.  I have decided to stay within a fifteen thousand colones a day spending budget, or roughly, thirty five Canadian, and anything I save will go into a fund for visiting the forest reserves, none of which offers an entrance of less than twenty dollars Canadian.  As I have previously mentioned, prices have really gone up here, thanks to the booming tourist economy, and the cheaper restaurants have offerings the same prices or higher than in Vancouver.

I am aching all over from climbing hills on the way back, and I know its good for me so I will stop complaining, Gentle Reader.

Costa Rica 2

I got here.  I wasnt sure if it would happen.  This trip has already had some challenges, mostly around transportation, but God or whatever name you might have for the highest posible good, has provided through the kindness of strangers.  When there was little certainty that the bus to Monteverde would arrive at all and the cab driver, who is a friend of the owner of the Vida Tropical where I spent my first night, more out of kindness than on the strength of his modest tip from me, stood and waited with me for the bus for almost an hour!  Failing the arrival of the bus he had a plan b in store.  The bus ride itself was four hours long, almost, scenic and uneventful.  A woman who lives in Monteverde took interest in my drawing and we chatted a bit in Spanish.  When the bus arrived in Mnteverde I found myself in a new destination without easy access to a taxi.  A local woman on crutches overheard me when she overheard me ask a security guard and she shared her cab with me.  It turns out shes also an artist.

Despite the high cost of everything in restaurants and cafes I am glad to be here again.  Even though this is the dry season clouds are often moving in from the ocean and sometimes it drizzles a bit, though usually it is sunny.  It was actually cold last night when I arrived and even wearing a sweater I could feel the chill.  Monteverde is very different from how a lot of you might envision the tropics.  There are no beaches nearby since this place is inland and high in the mountains.  The climate feels rather like May in Vancouver and the wind is strong and forceful.  I would say, awe inspiring.  Hearing the wind in the huge and towering trees evokes the sense of God, or the Divine speaking to us in nature.  It is unsettling and disquieting because one is reminded of how small and weak we are in the scheme of things and if this experience doesnt teach you humility then maybe nothing but a few good ass kickings will.

I walked some four miles or more to the principal town, Santa Elena,  There are more sidewalks than there used to be, even though much of the road is still unpaved making for rough going and clouds of dust when vehicles pass.  I did say its the dry season right now.  There is a lookout point from where you can see all the way to the Pacific Ocean.  There used to be a big rock there one could sit on.  Now there are three benches.  More comfortable, I suppose but I do miss the rock.

It isnt difficult finding restaurants with vegetarian offerings, but the prices are not cheap, being equal or worse than Vancouver.  I think this could be because Monteverde attracts a lot of well off American tourists and of course the locals have responded with natural greed, and now it feels as if everyone has their hand in your pocket. 

You know, Gentle Reader, when I think of what a pain in the heiny I can be for being a vegetarian, I sometimes think of Hitler, who like me was a vegetarian and a nonsmoker.  I sometimes wonder if these could be uniquely Teutonic traits that can bring out the sleeping fascist in people.  Nothing against the German people by the way.  Half my DNA is from Germany.  The good half comes from Scotland.

The birds here are wonderful and I have already sighted as many as ten species, though I am not certain about the identity of some of them.

The Mariposa, which is the bed and breakfast where Im staying is lovely and in a more isolated área near the cloud forest reserve.  My room is huge and comfortable, if a bit cold at night but Esteban, my host gave me an extra blanket.  He is very kind and has given me the use of his laptop for checking my email and writing you all this lovely travel dreck.

Ive been speaking tons of Spanish today with various staff in cafes and I have to say that it is flowing better than ever.  Esteban said that he notices an improvement in my Spanish since I was here six years ago.  I am working feverishly on a new drawing.  I will show you a Google image of my current bird



Different folks are already noticing my art, which is kind of  fun.  I dont know if it will lead to anything and it really doesnt matter.  The joy is in the journey.

Costa Rica 1

I am in Costa Rica, Gentle Reader, and I will revive the Gratitude series when I am back in April.  Right now I am in the airport town, Alajuela, waiting for my taxi ride to the bus stop for Monteverde where I will be spending most of the month. 

Its been the usual routine, so far.  Yesterday morning I pulled myself out of bed on less than three hours sleep, even though I went to bed at nine the night before.  It always seems hard to sleep the night before a plane trip.  I wonder what causes the stress?  Could there even be a less than conscious fear that the plane will crash and that will be it?  I often believe that we all carry many such deeply unconscious fears and impulses that often surface as vestigial reactions to things.

Basically, flight was never part of our design as human beings.  It is not a natural form of travel for us, though indeed is somewhat wonderful, and if you are well off enough for business class it can be even quite enjoyable.  But flight was never part of the package for our earliest ancestors, who never really went higher than tree branches.  So when you consider that we have spent almost all of our half million years or so of existence on the land, while even daring to cross oceans on boats, air travel has only been in the picture for us for the last hundred years or so.  In other words, it will likely take us a few thousand years to get really used to it so that it actually gets programmed into our DNA.  In the meantime, I think we can expect that we are all going to have some kind of fear of flying, even if we happen to be in full denial.

I did meet a colleague of mine from work at the Vancouver airport yesterday.  Herself a native Costa Rican, she was also going to be on the same flight as me.  We chatted a lot in Spanish and it was enjoyable for both of us, I think.  I flew Air Canada, and I did not have to land in the USA, much to my relief given the odious monster now inhabiting the White House and the way he is already impacting things just over a month into his presidency. 

Politics aside, we changed planes in Toronto and landed in Costa Rica, more or less on time.  A local cab driver claimed me at the airport and took me to the bed and breakfast where I am spending my first and last nights in Costa Rica.

Breakfast was enjoyable, shared with four other guests, a young couple from  París, France, and a mother and daughter from Barcelona, Spain.  Sincé the young French woman spoke Spanish our entire conversation was conducted in el idioma de los angeles (the language of the angels), though her partner must have felt left out, since he seems to speak only French and English.

Alajuela, the airport town, is kind of shabby, with tropical luxuriance bursting out everywhere.  I stopped in the cathedral for part of  mass, then later began a new drawing inside a café.  It is warm, but not suffocatingly hot.  There are people out everywhere and everyone seems somehow connected in the community.  The flowers are amazing.