Costa Rica: the pura vida

Dinh told me that most everyone speaks English in Costa Rica. 
Um. I'm not running into many English speakers here. Is this like China where they CAN speak English, but they DON'T? Well it's different this time around, I have a secret weapon: I speak their language!! Ha! Gotcha. 
Besides, I'm looking forward to improving my Spanish. 

my bible

The bus journey from Nicaragua to San Jose, Costa Rica took about 9 hours.
There was a noticeable change in scenery once we crossed the Costa Rican border. Lush green flora speckled with brightly colored flowers created a pleasing scenery. It wasn't Hawaii, but I was impressed. 

I tried to push out the thoughts of hearing people tell me how Costa Rica was over-priced, touristy and Americanized out of my mind. I wanted to find out for myself. 
There was a reason why it's such a popular travel destination. I mean, you don't see hoards of tourists flocking to North Dakota, do you?
No offense, North Dakotans :) 

The motto for Costa Rica is "Pura vida", which means pure life. The locals spurt it out to tourists left and right. I think they get a kick out of it.  

Let's see what kind of "pura vida" I can find here.....

The bus halted to a stop in San Jose and preceded to kick everyone off. An untimely heavy rain storm kindly greeted us. This is why Costa Rica is so green. It is a rainforest, after all. 

Unfazed, I huddled in a dry corner outside the bus station, dug my raincoat out of my bag, swung it on and traipsed through the unyielding buckets of rain. I found a hostel a few blocks away and entered the lobby, dripping wet, albeit smiling. 
There was only one other person staying at the hostel that night. I sulked a tiny bit when I learned I would be the only person sleeping in the dorm room that night. I was looking forward to socializing with fellow vagabonds. I guess that's what I get for traveling in the low season. 

the hostel

San Jose itself is not too happening of a place. It's a nice city to jump start your vacation because of it's center location. If it wasn't for that, I would have never stepped foot in the city. 

After settling into my hostel, I braved the rain again and went scavenging for food. Dinh told me everyone took American dollars. This was not the case. I got so excited when I found a natural smoothie shop, but was shot down just as fast when I learned that they didn't take American dollars. The only thing I ate on the bus journey was a dark chocolate Toblerone chocolate bar that I had bought at the duty free store at the border, mucho hours prior. My nerves had taken care of any hunger I had earlier. But now I was famished!
All the money changers had gone home for the day, I wouldn't have access to any Costa Rican colones until the morning. 

If Dinh was here, I could gripe to him about this nonsense. Dinh was not here. He was in Nicaragua, surfing. I'll gripe to myself. 

With a growling stomach, I headed to the grocery store to try my luck. With a can of black beans, tortillas and a bottle of water, I placed my items on the counter. With the best puppy dog eyes I could manage, I asked the man if they took American dollars. The answer was YES and I silently rejoiced. I would be eating tonight!!

With a full stomach, I slept like a baby. I looked forward to taking the bus to Manuel Antonio national park in the mañana. 
My second night alone and it was better than the first. 
Zzzzzzzz......

On the road again

Traveling is like a game. With intuition, experience and a little luck, traveling becomes easier. Without these 3 valuable traits, you will get burned. People will take advantage of you.  It will happen, regardless.  Especially in third world countries where salaries are a fraction of ours.  

When you outsmart them, you win. 
When they outsmart you, they win. 

It's fun for me. It challenges my brain in ways I wouldn't normally get if I stayed at home, in my safe bubble. I totally recommend it. 

I decided to continue down south through Central America solo. I wasn't feeling productive in Nicaragua and I have a heart like the restless wind. Dinh wouldn't leave if I paid him 2 million dollars. Surfing is his life, and NOTHING is more important than that. 

THE WORLD BECKONS!!

Now that I'm traveling on my own, I see the stark difference compared to traveling with a mate. I'm more keen to my surroundings. I don't have anyone looking out for me. I quickly scan everyone that I see, doing a lightening quick psychoanalysis of them, determining if they are a threat. It keeps me on my toes.
Traveling solo is a more raw, richer experience. 

I got dropped off at a hole-in-the-wall hotel in Managua by Dinh and his friend Chip. 

on the way to Managua

I had a 6 am bus to catch to San Jose, Costa Rica the next morning. As soon as they pulled away, a huge thunderstorm came rolling through, shaking the windows with it's wicked-loud thunder. It amazes me how loud and ferocious the rain storms are in Nicaragua. The skies were angry that night. I winced every time I heard the thunder. I was alone once again. Honestly, I was a little nervous. I had to mentally prepare myself to travel solo once again. It takes some wits about you and requires you to have a bit of a rougher side. This rough side isn't always shown, but it must exist if you want to travel alone. Just in case. 

My rough side has gotten me out of a lot of sticky situations. When all else fails, act like you're crazy. Never fails. 
I would bet that every solo traveler doubts themselves at some time, if only for a minute. I admit, I had a twinge of doubt on my first night alone. 
I daydreamed about my solo travel in the near future and pessimistic thoughts polluted my mind. 
I squashed them pronto. 

Wake up, Rachel! You've done this a million times before! Of course you can do this! 
Oh yea, that's right, I am totally capable. What am I worried about?!

I shook my head and came out of this trance. 
Ok, it's settled. I'm going to be just fine traveling on my own from now on. Duh. 
After traveling with Dinh for 2 months, I became accustom to it. He was my security blanket. Travel is so much easier with someone. But I almost prefer to do it solo. You can really see what you're made of. It's very rewarding and empowering. 

I have more time to think, to process everything I'm experiencing. I'm more approachable when I'm alone. I am a better writer when I'm alone. I haven't written nearly as many and as good quality blog entries as I'd liked to, because I was traveling with someone else. 

It was imperative that I travel alone. It was just going to take a little adjustment. Dinh was no longer by my side. The bed felt empty . My days were going to be quieter. There would be no more sharing the cost of the hotel rooms. Let the pity party begin. 
I don't like feeling dependent on anyone.

I was feeling a bit lonely at this point, so I skyped with my mom and sister and felt my worries melt away . 
I tossed and turned like a hot potato that night. The neighborhood was uber sketchy and the heat and humidity was overwhelming. 
5 am rolled around faster than I wished and soon I had to be out the door to catch my bus. 

♪ ♫ ♬On the road again, just can't wait to get on the road again! ♪ ♫ ♬chimed in my mind as I toted myself to the bus station. Just me and my bag now. That's how it's always been. That's how it will always be. 
No matter what, I will always have God and my guardian angels by my side. 
I am a strong, independent woman and am fully capable of traveling through this world solo. Why did I ever doubt myself?
As soon as I had gotten over my twinge of fear, butterflies tickled my stomach as I thought about the adventures that awaited me in unknown lands. 
♪ ♫ ♬On the road again......♪ ♫ ♬

Monkey love

There's a place in Nicaragua called Monkey Island. A family of monkeys inhabit this pea-sized island in the middle of a lake. The story goes that they were once living in a zoo before someone relocated them to the island, where they've lived ever since. 

Enticing them with bread, the cute furry animals came scurrying towards our boat. The female monkey swung acrobatically from the branches until she reached our boat. This sweet monkey was such a love bug. She put her human-looking black hand on my knee as she steadied herself. It was so cute. 

She knows the driver of the boat, since he frequents the island often with tourists, and has grown to adore him. Making a bee-line for the driver, she wrapped her hairy arms gently around his head, hugging him for a good minute straight. The driver said she does this often. He hugged her back. It was so adorable and funny to see her acting so human-like in her show of emotions. Just one more reason why I love monkeys! 

The Great Horse Rescue: part 2

The horse saga continues....

The day after the big rescue, we returned to the stables to check on Milagro. He was looking about the same. Martin said he was crying for his mom. It made me so sad. I asked how old he thought Milagro was and he answered 7 months. He eased my mind when he said he was old enough to be away from his mom. He was being a big baby, I thought. He's a stubborn, little momma's boy. Haha.

The very next morning, I was greeted by Martin at our front door. He told me that Milagro's owner found out he was there and had shown up to take him back. I woke Dinh up from his afternoon nap and we drive down the road to the stables. When we arrived, we saw a scrawny, poor looking man. 

He had rode in on a big white horse. He said Milagro had gotten the gash on his leg from a boat motor. 

His story didn't make sense, but we didn't ask any further questions. We knew that he was not a good man if he left an injured colt on the beach for the vultures. We needed proof that this was the rightful owner. They let Milagro out of the wooden stable and he ran over to the big white horse, his mommy. They rubbed noses for a while and then Milagro started nursing from her. 

I had to choke back my tears. It was so heart warming. It was plain to see that this was definitely the owner. 
We saw that the mom had an obviously broken ankle and the owner continued to ride her. They lived in a village 6 km away . It would be very painful for Milagro to walk that far. We wanted him to have a good life, which can be hard to come by as a horse in Nicaragua. We had come so far to save this little guy, only to have his crappy owner claim him back after he saw his leg was being treated. Dinh and I discussed what we should do. We decided that we would see if the owner would let us buy Milagro, so we told the skinny man that we would pay him $40 for Milagro, which was actually way more than a local would have paid for a horse.
The owner was satisfied with the deal. Soon he mounted the horse and trotted off back to his village. I felt so sorry for the mom horse, she had to walk so far with a broken ankle. I was so relieved that Milagro would never live a life like that. He would be well taken care off from now on. I walked up to Milagro and pet his nose. He had no idea what just happened and how much of a turning point it was in his life. 
Milagro was oblivious to me. He watched his mom trot away until he couldn't see her anymore. He neighed for her to come back. He was whimpering and stamping his feet. I couldn't get over how human-like he was acting. His emotions were an open faced sandwich. 
It absolutely broke my heart to see Milagro enduring so much grief. He had been reunited with his mother, only to have her leave him again. Tears filled my eyes once again. This horse business is too emotional for me!!! 

Now Milagro was ours. Fair and square. When Dinh and I wished we had a horse, we had no idea how quickly we would stumble upon one. Be careful what you wish for!!

The Great Horse Rescue: part 1

Life in Nicaragua is good. I live a more predictable life these days. My days usually consist of waking up when I want, walking for a good hour on the beach, lounging in the hammocks, cleaning, reading, doing laundry (by hand, mind you), doing my insanity workout, and cooking. Sometimes I surf.

walk for miles and miles.....

doing laundry by hand, it's hard work!!

Our hammocks

I've scrubbed this house from top to bottom. I'm also trying out some new bread recipes. 

Cinnamon raisin bread

 Dinh surfs for 2-3 hours twice a day, so I'm forced to entertain myself for the majority of the day if I don't go with him. 
I wasn't getting completely bored, but I wished there was more to do. There is a stable down the road that is owned by an American couple. I told Dinh we should get a horse, we could keep him at the stable for a small fee. We decided to do a little more research on horses and buy one in the near future. 
I usually walk alone in the morning while Dinh is surfing, but the surf wasn't too good one morning, so Dinh decided to join me. 
We were rounding one of the rocky points when we saw a regal horse standing on the rocks far away . I thought it made a good picture so I snapped a pic with my iphone. 

As we got closer, we discover it's a colt, that he is alone, is limping, and has a big cut on his upper leg. My caregiver instinct kicked in right away. The little horse was skittish of us and wouldn't let us get near him. I tried to observe his leg as he hobbled away. I couldn't tell if there were any broken bones. Nothing obvious. 
From the evidence, I assumed he had gotten injured and his owner left him because he wasn't able to walk. Nicaraguans don't look at animals like we do. It's heartbreaking. 
"Dinh, we HAVE to help him!!", I pleaded. I would rescue this horse by myself if I had too. I'll never let an animal suffer if I can do anything about it. 
Dinh agreed. We hurried back to the house and gathered supplies: water, carrots, a makeshift splint and a rope. We called Dinh's friend, Chip, who has a 4-wheeler. It was over a half an hour walk to get back to the little horse, so we thought it would be helpful to get Chip involved. 
Operation: save a horse, had begun. The 3 of us piled on Chip's 4-wheeler and off we went. 
When we arrived, we found 4-5 local guys with horses at the location. They were there to fish and camp. We asked of it was their horse and they said no. 
I creep over slowly to the little horse. He eyed me suspiciously . I talked to him gently and offered him a carrot. He wanted nothing to do with me and limped further away. I was relieved that he was somewhat mobile, it will make the rescue easier. I didn't see him warming up to me anytime in the near future, so I got the rope and tried to lasso him. As you can imagine, it was an epic failure and quite comical at the same time. The Nicaraguan guys watched us gringo clowns dance around for a while, snickering under their breath, then offered to help. They were much more experienced with horses than we were. With the little horse running away from them also, it took a few tries before they harnessed him and were able to tie a halter on him. 

We were so grateful. We wouldn't have even known how to tie a halter. They handed us the rope and we thanked them up and down. 
This horse was not liking being told what to do. We pulled at the rope and he dug his front hooves deep in the sand. It took the maximum strength of both Dinh and I to get him to move. He bucked up on his front feet, then took a few steps, then pulled against us as hard as he could. It was a very slow moving process. The job was exhausting and we questioned what we had gotten ourselves into. In between rests, we decided this would be our horse now. We named him Milagro, which means miracle. It would be a miracle if we got him off this beach. 
"Come oooonnnn Milagro, we're only trying to help you", I grunted between the tug of war sessions. 
"You look like a camel when you do that", I teased Milagro. He really did look like a camel when he put his head down and scrunched up his face. We both laughed. 
Dinh said he was getting tired, but my adrenaline was kicked into high gear. This animal was in need and it was up to us to help him!!
"Ok, let's try to get to that tree, Dinh", I encouraged. 
All of a sudden, the old worn rope snapped with such force that Dinh and I flew backwards, thumping hard on the sand. 
"Owww!!", I yelped as I rubbed my butt. 
Milagro was still. He was tired too and didn't attempt to run now that he didn't have a rope attached to him. I walked reeeaaaallll slow over to him and tied the 2 ends together. Due to the exhaustion, he finally let me pet his head a little. He was breathing hard.
"Don't worry, we're here to help you, you're so pretty, you just have to stop fighting us", I said in a smoothing voice. His big brown eyes focused on me and I noticed for the first time how long his eyelashes were. His emotions were so human-like. He had such a powerful energy emanating from him. I felt a bond form at that moment. A bond that I knew would last a very long time. 
Chip left on his 4-wheeler to get some help. We planned to take him to the stables, but had a good 2 miles more to go. The feat was looking nearly impossible.
Dinh and I continued to struggle with the stubborn adolescent. It's a good thing he wasn't any bigger than he was. For a little guy , he was strong!
After a while, Chip returns with a local cattle herder on a big horse. All it took was a little nudge on his butt from the big horse to make Milagro obey . We instructed the man to bring him to the stables. As we watched them tread away , my heart was overcome with emotions and I got all teary-eyed. It was such a relief to have some help. Milagro might have known that we were saving him, but he sure put up a good fight. He doesn't listen to us, but he listens to other horses. Figures. 
We returned to the house and planned to go back to the stables after we ate lunch. 
Within an hour, we were at the stables, looking for our little Milagro. The 2 horse hands working at the stable, Milton and Martin, said they hadn't seen a little colt and knew nothing about it. 
My heart raced, where was our little guy?! We jumped in Dinh's truck and backtracked. With each windy turn, my worries rose. We didn't see Milagro. Where was he?! 
Then finally, we see the precious little animal on the side of the muddy road. His harness was off and there was no cattle herder to be seen. 
He had left him. 
Milagro was just standing there like, "ok, you guys got me here, what do you want me to do now? This is your guy's big idea."
We quickly drove back to the stables, explained the situation to Milton and Martin, begging them for help. I was almost in tears at this point. Without hesitation, they saddled up their big horses and followed us down the road. These were good people. 
When we got there, Milagro was still standing on the side of the road, looking bored. He didn't want to go far with an injured leg. They assessed him a little and then nudged Milagro's butt with their horses nose. 

Once again, Milagro obeyed and hobbled along as best he could. It was slow moving but we all made it back to the stable safely. Once at the stable, Milton and Martin gave Milagro a shot of antibiotic and pain medicine. 

getting his shot

They sprayed an antiseptic on his cut, which was looking rather nasty with infection. Now for the big question: were there any broken bones?
They said "no" and I let out a cheer. Milagro was going to be just fine, they said. I was so happy that they helped us that I told them I loved them, in Spanish. Haha. They didn't speak English. 
It was such an emotional day. We knew he was in good hands from now on. He was put in his own stable and given hay and fresh water. We could finally relax. 

Milagro recovering

Nicaragua at last

For the past 10 months, I've listened to a giddy Dinh constantly rave about Nicaragua. The expressions on his face and the excitement that came when he talked about Nicaragua made me very curious to see this mystery land. Approximately 5 years ago, Dinh purchased a house in Nicaragua, west of Managua, after searching for the ultimate surf spot. He had found it on a beach resort called Gran Pacific. This turned out to be his Disneyland. He was happier than a pig in mud in Nicaragua. The surf was consistent, and best of all, there was no crowd. A perfect wave, all to yourself. This is a surfer's dream. There is no other place he would rather be, if you don't count Hawaii. I had a certain picture in my head of how Nicaragua would be. 

Dinh's house

We arrived late on a Sunday night. The black skies opened up and rained on us relentlessly for the last 3 hour stretch. So close, yet so far away. Dinh's house isn't in the most convenient location. You must endure pothole-laden dirt roads in order to get to this slice of heaven. Although, this is Nicaragua. 
We had driven for over 12 hours that day. We left El Salvador early in the morning and plowed straight though Honduras. We had no business in tumultuous Honduras. Making sure our doors were locked at all times and that we used the bathroom before crossing the border, our sights were set on Nicaragua. Even though we were only in the country for a couple hours, I was able to pick up on a strong sense of misery among the people. They didn't look very cheerful. They looked very rough around the edges. They had been through a lot in life. Nobody chooses what life they are born into. It's so sad that these people have to experience so much strife in their lives. I wish I could show them a better life, how beautiful life could really be. 
On average, there are 20 murders a day in Honduras. 20!! That's huge, if you think about how small the country is. Population: less than 8 million. It's called the "murder capitol of the world". I don't know about you, but I value my life enough not to spend any significant amount of time in such a chaotic country. 
See ya later Honduras!!

By the time we rolled into Gran Pacifica that night, Dinh was as hyper as a 2 year old that had gotten into the sugar jar. He had been away for about a year and had missed it more than ever. He was pointing out everyone's house as we bounced by on the dirt road. I felt like I knew these people from all the stories Dinh had told me.
"Uh-huh", I sporadically mustered out with my eyes closed, my head in my hand. 
It felt like someone had tied 5 pound weights to my eyelids. I was utterly exhausted from the long drive and from being on such high alert while in Honduras. Not to mention the hassle of 2 border crossings. I. was. pooped. 
The forerunner came to a halt in Dinh's driveway after 5,739 miles through 7 countries. The 200,000 mile engine drove like a champ and never once gave us a problem. 
I only had enough energy to ask Dinh where the bed was. I plopped down on it and was sleeping before he could even put the sheets on it. 
Sleeping sounder than a hibernating bear, I arose the next morning, feeling refreshed. 
I could finally take in my surroundings. Dinh was right, it was beautiful here. His house was set on a private spacious lot with nature in all directions. A hop, skip and jump away from the ocean. 

The 2 bedroom, 2 bath house was simple. Tile floors throughout. 
Dinh was up at sunrise, out in his backyard checking out his papaya trees, along with his pepper, basil, and mango trees. 

Throughout the course of the next 2 weeks, we were quite the little gardeners and managed to plant banana trees, lemongrass, watermelon, more basil, mint, more papaya, tomato and jackfruit. There's just something about the taste of your own vegetables that you've grown in your own backyard. No chemicals will ever touch our precious plants. 

the papayas get pretty big here!

We're thoroughly enjoying our green papaya salads.
They are umm-ummm good!!!

Noshing on pupusas in El Salvador

Did you know? El Salvador has a heavenly, dirt-cheap street food called a pupusa. It looks like a pancake and consists of a doughy outer shell, stuffed with ingredients such as cheese, meat and beans. I loved to eat the bean and cheese pupusas.
I had read about pupusas while researching this trip and was excited to try them. Just as I imagined, the minute we crossed the border into El Salvador, the local ladies (and men) were busy cooking them up. They are experts at pitty-pattying the balls into shape after stuffing them with the ingredients, then whipping them onto the stove, turning them ever so often. The smell created by these yummy disks cooking and the slapping sound of the worker making them made for a memorable ambiance. In most cases, they couldn't pump them out fast enough! There was usually a long line up of hungry patrons. The ubiquitous little stands satisfied my cravings.
The pupusas are cooked on a skillet with no shortage of oil. Ok, let's face it, they're not the healthiest thing to eat. But they are totally tasty! A comfort food. I refrained from eating one for breakfast, lunch and dinner, fearing I'd clog my arteries right up. But I did indulge a bit :)
Oh, and the best part is that they only cost about 50 cents each. Life is good!

Chichicastenago

Chichicastenago: Funny name, ain't it? 
Chichicastenago, or Chi Chi as the cool kids say, is a town about 1 hour north of Panajachel, Guatemala. Near Lake Atitlan. There is a sprawling, elaborate market that comes to life every Thursday and Sunday . It's not to be missed.

The weaving drive up the mountain to this market is an experience in itself. We passed through numerous small villages. Locals were doing, oh.... what locals do. The road hugs Lake Atitlan for some time, giving us breathtaking picture-perfect views from above. 
Chichicastenago was the perfect place to get my Christmas shopping done (and practice my Spanish!).  
The locals set up stands and sell the handicrafts they worked so hard to make. They also sell things like flowers, incense, pigs, etc.....
You name it, they probably have it.

There are also small food stalls called comedores in the center of all the action, because we all know how much of an appetite we can work up while shopping. 
Since boys don't like to shop, Dinh did his own thang while I went shoooppppping!!! 
Of course, there are no prices on anything, so I got to practice my bartering skills. Like I needed practice on that, pffff.
I spent an entire day bouncing from stall to stall. There are similar items at each stall, so I would ask what the price is at a few places to get an idea, then I made my move and bartered with them after making friends with them. I'm sneaky like that. They're always more willing to lower the price for their "amiga". Hehe. 

Scored a sweet Xmas present from this amiga

Since Dinh wasn't with me, I was forced to use my own Spanish skills. At first I was a little shy . I took a deep breath, let go of all inhibitions, and the Spanish words just rolled off my tongue like butter over hot bread. I have to say , I impressed myself. I was making jokes with the Guatemalans in Spanish. They were laughing.
It was a gay ol' time. I couldn't have dreamt of a better experience. Finally I was able to communicate with the locals. I smiled from ear to ear. I had so many frustrating moments while learning Spanish, and look at me now. All that hard work had paid off. 

It's things like that. Traveling increases your self confidence by 10 fold. If I can do this, I can do a lot more than I thought too!
When Dinh and I met at the end of the day, I asked him what he did. He described how he hiked up a mountain with a guide and watched a special ceremony . I was bummed I missed out on the opportunity, but he had some pretty cool pictures to show me. 

Before departing Chichi, we stumbled upon an old church. There were people burning incense around the entrance. 

Suddenly, a mass of people poured out, along with 6 men carrying a casket. As soon as they exited the church, they spun around harmoniously about 5 times. I was perplexed, but later found out this was to confuse the evil spirits so they didn't follow the deceased person to the other side.

 I watched as the large crowd creeped closer, heading straight towards me. I stepped aside and the coffin whizzed by my ears while the mourning family and friends followed. Such a moving moment to be in such proximity of. 

I'm really starting to love Guatemalans. Chichicastenago was such a rich experience to mingle with these friendly folks. 
At the end of day, I was extremely satisfied with my purchases. I'm so excited to give them all to my family and friends!!