COSTA RICA – LA FORTUNA, VOLCANO ARENAL: THE BUTTERFLY GARDENS

We are staying in La Fortuna near Volcano Arenal, a mysterious entity shrouded in clouds and overcast skies.  Despite postcards displayed in every La Fortuna store depicting lava spewing like fireworks, after 3 days of the same, obliterating weather obscuring any view of the majestic volcano, my brother is beginning to think the Volcano doesn’t really exist. Generally a chill guy, he can be irritatingly calm in comparison to my spastic tendencies.  His grumblings about the unseen volcano are translated into little, casual jokes that come across like a soft breeze rustling a few leaves – barely noticeable except to the sibling ear tuned in to variations of an enviable “whatever” attitude.  I can imagine wondering the same if I had not already seen Arenal with my own eyes, although my grumblings are comparable to the ones made by the fire goddess herself.

COSTA RICA - Meatballs, Meatheads, and Pastafarians

 

We are seated at Victoria’s, a restaurant in Manuel Antonio. The owner begins chatting with our large group and doing what I think every restaurant owner should do:  giving us various dishes to try on the house.

There was an excellent savory dish of meatballs, tuna with a reduction sauce that everyone wanted details of, and one of my personal favourites, a thin-crust pizza made with chicken and walnuts. 

My stomach is arguably the way to my heart.  However, be forewarned: my innocent heart murmur means that I have some heart seepage and leakage.  Everything about my life should make perfect sense because of this but it never does.

I am an enigma. The door to the bathroom of Victoria’s is not an enigma.  The ladies room is the 2^nd door on the right. 

IT'S OH SO QUIET.....DONUTS, DENTS & DIMPLES

Yes, I have been oh so quiet for a few days. 

I'm still unpacking (seriously!), working, and trying to catch up on sleep while simultaneously trying to go on some sort of a post Costa Rica diet, which basically just entails NOT ordering ALL of the appetizers on the menu. 

Easier said than done. 

Today somebody kindly brought donuts, and they sat about 4 feet from me.  A partition did nothing to dissuade me from eating more than my fair share along with my impressive array of organic penance snacks from Trader Joe's. In a moment of pure adolescent selfishness, I even told another person who pretended to take the entire box for themselves that I had licked them all. 

COSTA RICA – THE MANGROVES

 

“So, you’re going to the MAN-grove today?” says Scott with the faintest hint of a smirk.

I laugh, feeling permanently ruined by the way he says mangrove, with the emphasis on MAN, as though we are going to some sleazy jungle night club and not the mangrove kayaking tour some of us have decided upon. 

COSTA RICA – CLARO QUE SI, UNTIL NEXT TIME

 

Today is my last full day in paradise.  I am beside myself with a mixture of emotions, the primary I think being sadness and resistance to my time ending here.  It has gone far too quickly. 

Last night I had to say “farewell, until next time” to some lovely friends who are leaving today.  I already miss them and, while I am grateful for the time we had together, I feel greedy like I want more and it will never be enough. 

I hate good-byes.  I am terrible at them.  My friends all say the same thing – it isn’t good-bye, it is until next time. 

The thing is, we never know for sure.  There is no permanence in life.  There is no such thing as a “sure thing”.  It is the reason I do not make promises anymore. 

Quincy And The Queens Of Quepos

Quincy is a well-known man in this area of Costa Rica, and if you come here and haven’t met him around town, you may have seen his pot brownies for sale at la feria in Quepos. 

My introduction to Quincy was some years ago in a bar while with friends.  He was telling us these bizarre stories and talking about strange things finally accumulating in him asking me, “If I were a dog, what would you name me?”

Caught off guard, my reply was something inane while the responses to my Facebook post were more amusing.  My favorite contribution was, “I would name you spot, and then get some spot remover and make you go away.”

COSTA RICA EARTHQUAKE

Yesterday I went to la playa for some much needed sol and had some fun drinking cerveza while writing my last blog post, which was truthful yet poking fun at myself and my inability to pursue travel hardships of any kind.  I was laughing to myself out loud alone on the beach, even occasionally snorting, which just made me giggle harder, and was drinking my 2nd cerveza when I suddenly feel the ground moving. 

EARTHQUAKE!

It didn't last too long but my body went on high alert.  I looked around and nobody was stopped in their tracks looking about or acting as if they felt anything.  I've never been on the beach just meters away from the water during an earthquake before.  Am I being a stupid girl for just sitting here dumbfounded?  Is there even a remote possibility of even a mild tsunami? 

BURY ME SUNBATHING

The overcast sky is a scrim, masking the unrelenting, impervious sun overhead.  In spite of my poor water drinking habits, sweat pools on my upper lip and drips down my face, my arms, my legs. An insect lands on me and I slap it away.  Already a man has noticed and impolitely pointed out the small bruises on my legs - one of the allergic reactions I get to mosquitos, sand fleas, and other critters that bite me. 

COSTA RICA: Circadian Rhythms, Café Con Leche, and “Wild”

 

One of the nice things about staying at a bed and breakfast is that you get breakfast, except of course when you sleep through breakfast hours.  It was understandable on that first day, because I had slept very little and was exhausted by my travels.  The second day it was more of a bummer and I felt disappointed.  When I finally went to breakfast on the third day, I was filled with appreciation, not just for the juice, food, and café con leche, and the glorious view, but the conversation.  It is a great way to meet other travelers.  Sharing a table with strangers over food breaks down a barrier, I suppose in the same way that sharing an airplane seat with the arm rest up lifts a kind of mental barrier.  People are more apt to talk when what is mostly a mental line of separation disappears.

COSTA RICA - DEPARTURE AND ARRIVAL

DEPARTURE

There is a man exerting great effort in some bizarre version of a power-walk up the hill of the residential area in San Bruno, California where I have parked my car at my cousin’s house in preparation to leave for Costa Rica.  The man might actually be running in slow motion. He has a rope tied about his waist.  My mind can’t make sense of it all for a minute as my eyes follow along the taut length of the rope and see it is dragging a tire along the cement.  Across the street, I exhale a plume of smoke out my car window and fumble for my camera to capture what my mind can barely make sense of and what is in direct opposition to my current desires; to rest my body, soul, mind, and heart on my favourite beach in Costa Rica and do nada. 

A part of me detests this man because he is a reflection of myself on a daily basis, trudging up the insurmountable mountain of life, dragging a metaphorical tire along the way, using every ounce of energy, and having something which is already difficult be much more challenging.  It is not of my own volition; I am not training for something for fun or glory or simply to get in shape.

Article Published On We Said Go Travel Website

This was an article I entered in a writing contest back in February to We Said Go Travel.  You can view it by clicking on the following link http://www.wesaidgotravel.com/to-costa-rica-with-love or by reading it below.

Photograph by Dolores Fino (used with permission)

To Costa Rica With Love

15 years ago, I fell passionately in love, not with a person, but with a place.  On my last night in Costa Rica, while sitting on the balcony of a hostel in San Jose surrounded by my sister and friends, my heart surged with the resistance one feels when parting with a loved one and I broke down in tears and cried.  There have been many return visits since that first trip, sometimes with family members, sometimes with friends, and often as of late, by myself.   This is the last week of a 6 week visit to Costa Rica, and the familiar feel of heartbreak has descended, like the first spattering of rain that falls, gathering force until it becomes a torrential downpour, so deafening and fierce, that it is impossible to hold a conversation without shouting.