Chronicles Of The Return

My latest Texas Monthly story is up, here. Enjoy!

Lots of photos today. Hopefully I’ll get a story done as well.

My favorites?

I’d be lying if I said the one above of the lizard wasn’t one of ‘em. By the way, all the animals in the subsequent photos are from the wild. None, except the kitty, are in captivity.

This one of the Arenal Volcano is nice.

And this one is for Don Henry Ford, Jr. Horses!

I love Vermillion Flycatchers. And this one of the Broad-billed Mot Mot? Probably the finest bird I’ve ever seen in the wild. I wish the colors weren’t so washed out in the photo.

No photo collection is complete without food, this of a fine anti-pasto overlooking the Lago De Arenal, taken from The Country Store, owned by ex-pats from Arizona.

Cumulonimbus!

Finally, the hot springs at the foot of the volcano, known as Tabacon de los pobres.

Enjoy!

A year ago today I was in Kuala Lumpur. It was day two of what turned out to be the second leg of my year long journey from Singapore to Amsterdam and then home. Day one was spent in the old spice trading town of Malacca. Much has changed in that year, but then again, not so much. I’m in a town tonight that’s not to terribly different from a hundred other towns I visited over the last year. Although, I confess, the view of the Arenal Volcano is pretty impressive. As a matter of fact, it’s the first active volcano I’ve ever seen. And a big, beefy strato-volcano it is. Tropical jungle gives way to evergreen forests about half way up. After the evergreens it’s pretty much a slush of ash and smoke. I hate to keep speaking in platitudes, but there is something even more impressive seeing it smoke. When a breeze rolls in at night and sends the tropical rains scurrying away the light show is like a giant Fourth of July sparkler several thousand feet up.

I’m feeling a little guilty today. I’d planned, upon waking, to head off to the jungle, do some bird-watching, take some photos and maybe end the day bathing in hot springs. Just your typical work-a-day life. But I got sidetracked and ended up doing a whole lot of nothing except a little Friday Cat Blogging. That just won’t do.

I sure do like the Ticos, as the Costa Ricans call themselves. And I’ve figured out one of the main differences between Costa Rica and Mexico. As I wrote a few days ago, I tend to see all Spanish speakers through the prism of growing up in South Texas and the fact that I’ve spent a fair amount of time in Mexico. One major difference is this: when I arrive in Mexico there is no question where I am. Mexico is in your face. Not aggressive-like, just matter of fact. Mexico is a special place in that regard. Some countries don’t wear their national character as well as the Mexicans do. Often national character is a mixed-blessing. But in Mexico? Not so much. It’s hard to imagine a people more laid back than the Mexicans–actually laid back isn’t the best way of describing Mexicans, but I’m not in Mexico–but the Costa Ricans? Laid back suits them to a tee. Almost Australian in their nonchalance and unpretentious manner. Aplomb is a excellent single word descriptor. They have the benefit of being calm and easy going, friendly and effusive, an effusion that quickly gives way to an open loquacity I’ve seldom encountered. The only people more likely to talk to you on and on about life, in my judgment are the Vietnamese. Now there is a people that like to talk.

When I say, “gracias,” the Ticos reply, “con gusto!”

How can one go wrong with a reply like that?

The Ticos are quick with a compliment and super-smart, perceptive would be a good way of describing them. Not surprising in a country that has a male literacy rate of 97% and a female literacy rate of 96%. Of course, that’s a function of the fact that they have no army. Imagine what we could do if we just cut our defense establishment in half?

There is little in the way of poverty here in Costa Rica, either. Sure, it isn’t a rich nation like Western Europe or America. I’ve seen a few lean-tos and some of the coastal towns have a decidedly dilapidated look to them, all mold on the walls, corrugated iron roofs and the like. Aren’t all coastal towns like that, however?

The people are healthy–and healthy looking. Not too much obesity either. And most of the country, thus far, has, if not a prosperous air to it, one no where near the edge of desperation I’ve seen in other developing and Third World countries. Here the houses are neat and orderly, well-kept, lots of small farm-steads full of papayas, bananas, assorted veggies, rice. Horses fill the pastures and goats gambol up an down the hillsides.

It’s lush too. As I drove in from Punta Arenas on the Golfo De Nicoya yesterday inland to La Fortuna I took to comparing Costa Rica to other tropical places I’ve been. It’s inevitable that we compare something new to what we’ve experienced before. I looked at the hillsides blanketed with green grass. Mountains swell and fall filled with Malinche and Tamarindo trees, multi-hued shrubs and variegated fruits. It doesn’t remind me of any place I’ve yet seen. Perhaps it’s the volcanic soil, permeating the light. Or the water–thick in the air, rich on the ground and always oozing from pores. The villages are Latin, but there is an element of whimsical joy in the civil engineering here. Or maybe it’s the clouds, which are ever obscuring and always revealing some new feature of the countryside, some hidden jewel, or minor flaw that adds much character to the place.

Costa Rica was never high on my list of places to see. It should have been. And I’m glad I’m here now.

I was feeling guilty a little while ago about doing nothing today. But now? As I watch the young families of this little tourist town on the side of volcano walk next to the manicured park, or see the young Latino males cruising the main street in the not-quite-dragsters I can’t help but to smile. How can one feel guilty about that?

My first story in Texas Monthly is now up and running.

Enjoy!

And I have some new photos up, here.

If anyone can identify the woodpecker in the attached photo I would be very grateful!

The surf part of the trip is over for the time being. There is not much of a story here and I do have work to do, insofar as what you can call what I’m doing work.

And while I do enjoy surfing, it’s just not the same without Reyes’ tequila-sodden antics. (I’m not a big fan of rum.) Hell, I’m exhausted at the end of the day and wonder how in the world Reyes and I carried on for a week and a half down in Mexico. Besides, I can’t hardly tell a surfing tale to one of the magazine’s I’m down there writing for. Really, what do middle-aged housefraus from Dallas really care about a divorced, late-thirty something man on the tail-end of his early mid-life crisis, down in Costa Rica surfing and drinking, chasing iguanas across the beach and monkeys through the jungle? Said hausfrau would probably be more interested in me writing an expository essay on the prostitutes in Costa Rica, better to understand why her husband is spending so much time in here.

Tongue planted firmly in cheek, folks.

No really, today I’m headed off to Montezuma, which sits on the southern tip of the Nicoya Peninsula, a boot looking spit of land kicking its way into the Pacific Ocean. I’m planning on a hike through the national park there, waterfalls, howler monkeys and lots and lots of birds.

If any of you have been down here before and have suggestions feel free to chime in in the comments section. I’m always game for something off the map, beaten trail, or whatever you want to call it.

More soon.

Just another day at the old office.

Photos can be found here.

Last night was a riot. Sleeping in the jungle always is. There were at least 10 different animals howling, cackling, wailing, chirping and singing in the night. Two different kinds of frogs, howler monkeys, birds, dogs barking, crickets, and a pool full of big bullfrogs who’s croaks rose and fell like the crescendo of a Beethoven symphony.

Don’t cry for me Costa Rica. Although I do have an all over, generalized body ache. The waves down here make those in Mexico look tame in comparison. I spent the day surfing in the whitewash, that area of the surf between the big waves (3 meter swells today) and the beach. It is a nice long beach break here.

It’s a strange little town. One long strip down a dirt road. And it’s full of Israelis. Last night was Rosh Hoshanna and I saw a few Hasidim walking the streets. Talk about an incongruity. Of course, most of the tourists here are young Israeli men at the height of fitness, post-military service. It’s hard to be out in the surf with ‘em sometimes. I’m not in the worst shape in the world, but not like that. And then yesterday as I was paddling out a girl, and I mean a pre-pubescent girl, less than 12 years old paddled out past me, turned, got up on a wave and surfed it like she owned it. Me? I just generally flail about in the water. But I am having fun–which I kind of feel guilty about because I am actually down here on assignment. So, the surfing will end in a day or so and I’ll head inland to investigate and write a few stories on eco-tourism here. Expect lots of photos!

Speaking of, yesterday I attempted to upload some photos and about five in the connection for the village died. But I did manage to get them up today.

Activity is the enemy of reflection, but I’ve dedicated some time to writing today so I’ll do my best to conjure up a post or two here shortly.