Costa Rica Unplugged: Day 7

The seventh day in beautiful Costa Rica was "transitional." Our visit to rainy Arenal, home of the volcano, had come to an end and we were en route to our two-night stay in Monteverde, or Green Mountain. I executed this travel day as they are all meant to be, mellow and low-key. It's the one time you don't need an excuse for dressing down in your Converse, loose jeans, and zip-up hoodie as well as only applying concealer and mascara for the sake of others and putting your hair up in a bun since it'll be under the hood of your sweater anyway. Without disappointing, I boarded our shuttle as described only to be escorted off a few minutes later. But not because I didn't meet the dress requirements.

The trip to Monteverde required a one-hour boat ride before tackling the treacherous mountain road for another sixty minutes. This was the shorter route instead of going around the large body of water. From the highway, we marched like ants down a stone path on the hillside to the lake where a watercraft awaited us. Our guide explained that we were crossing a hydroelectric fresh water lake with spectacular views that added another layer of laziness to my already relaxed self. I soaked up the background in the lullaby of the boat.

It'd been days since we had seen the sky.

It sprinkled during half our travel time in the water but by the looks of the ground where we landed, precipitation had come down a little harder inland. We carefully maneuvered across the mud, hopping from rock to rock, until we reached two small buses. Those vehicles were equipped to handle the rugged terrain we were about to encounter while our shuttle took the long way home. 

The bus swayed from side to side, jumped up and down, and slid left and right. It proved to manage the latter as soon as we hit the road. The left-hand side of the path was muddy and I thought we were going to be stuck when I saw our driver head straight towards it. The driver lost some control as his vehicle skidded towards the mountain wall but we never got stranded. The coach stopped short of an accident and it was then that I trusted the driver to get us to our next destination. But then we encountered foggy bends that kept me awake and very much alert for the rest of the way.

After sixty minutes of bouncing around, we arrived to Monteverde. We stretched, waited for our room keys, hauled our luggage up three flights of stairs, and went on a food hunt before our shuttle took us on another adventure. Our new accommodations had a pool and Jacuzzi, and along with the new found sun, a few of the girls opted out of the coffee tour to soak and relax instead. This was a vacation after all.

I had mixed feelings about the coffee tour since I'm not a drinker. The director of my MFA program told me I wouldn't have been accepted had he known this fact before hand; he might have added that question or requirement to the application since. But I was in Costa Rica and this was my second chance at getting a once in a lifetime taste.

Upon entry, we were introduced to more ox and even offered a ride. I waited until the last second but got the last spot in the cart. The other girls and I sat on the box wall, a thing with zero cushion or comfort. The wheels and rocky terrain made for a bumpy and painful three-minute ride.

Afraid of getting my semi-new Converse dirty, I changed into my pleather boots in Monteverde. Mud was easier to wipe off of these. 

After our short trip, we followed the coffee connoisseur through beanstalks into a green house. He had trays of coffee beans that resembled a plant cycle lesson I'd done with my students. 

Coffee berries.

There is only one thing I remember from this tour, and this information put me in the top 2% of coffee experts. Here it is: the lighter the bean, the more caffeine it contains. The darker the bean, the less. Just don't ask me why this is because I don't recall. It's something we can all research and keep in our filing cabinet in our brains to use when conversations go mum. 

Drying coffee beans.

Up close. 

Demonstrating how beans were ground in the past.

From strongest to weakest.

Strainer. 

My taste!

Coffee farm.

After fulfilling my coffee objective for the trip, we returned to the hotel and found this little guy ahead of us in the hallway. After the first warm shower in days, we dressed up for an Italian dinner. I ordered a pizza that was not very tasty because it lacked marinara sauce but managed to devour anyway. Most of us had a much needed glass of wine to close out the mellow day. We had the option to stay out later but I went back to the room since Jackie stayed behind with a few others. My introvert self needed a dose of TLC that hadn't been tended to since taking off to Central America. Besides, Day 8 had activities scheduled from sunup to sunset and I wanted a good night's sleep.

Fancy (looking) Italian dinner. 

Technology has created monsters out of all of us!

Costa Rica Unplugged: Day 6, Part 3-- Food, Music, and Hot Springs

That afternoon and evening in Arenal is one to be carried out at least once a week wherever you find yourself.

After visiting the school and stressing out over unruly children, we boarded a large wagon driven by a man-child en route to La Casona. I won't lie, he was easy on the eyes despite the fact that I was probably more than a decade his elder, with ocean blue sparklers and a pale complexion that fed my white-boy desire. Like a nerd, I sat on the first bench behind the tractor, making sure he caught a glimpse of me in the rear view mirror. I wasn't trying to flirt with him, though. I just wanted to convey a message: You better not kill me. You better drive well. I will not die out here because of you. Of course, I had no control over choosing any driver during the trip and didn't even know if our regular one had a clean record so I was screwed either way. But I didn't spoil my vacation worrying. I turned to mindfulness and focused on nature instead.

Bananas.

The man-child matured ten years when he saw a family stranded at a flooded portion of the road. Gone was the guy who had been, just an hour before, chasing and running from students at the escuelita. A lady stood helplessly at the foot of a pool of water with a baby in her arms, a toddler riding his toy car, and a girl next to her. Without an ounce of hesitation, the guy parked the tractor, crossed the puddle in his rubber boots, and headed towards the boy first. He picked up the kid, toy and all, and carried him to the dry side. Then he repeated the process with the girl while the mother followed behind.

My tour group was in disbelief of the selfless act we had just witnessed. I'm so used to driving past accidents and people on the side of the road without looking twice, yelling at those in front of me, "Nothing to see, keep moving." But this man proved that compassion did still exist in the world and that I was an evil bitch. I had already taken notice of the friendliness of the Costa Rican people in the short amount of time I'd been there but the deed that had unfolded before me had blown my mind. So I yelled, "I call dibs," and my peers laughed as we watched the now manly-man climb back onto the tractor. Nothing was sexier than watching a male take control over a situation in a calm and collected manner. We got a glimpse of his true character and I knew then that it was a beautiful one. I was envious of the woman who would wed him someday because her life partner would be a sensitive man who loved children and could handle stressful circumstances. For now, the now perfect guy shifted the hundred year-old gears as I trustingly took in the views of such an alluring place, in every sense of the word.

Casona is one of the oldest houses in Costa Rica where traditional ways of living still exist. The owner gave us a grand tour of his farm, demonstrated where and how we get sugar cane, and fed us an authentic meal with homemade tortillas. But my favorite part was the impromptu music session. He passed out instruments and took hold of a guitar himself. Then he started singing and we served as the musically challenged band members. Imagine a group of people having a blast around a bonfire at the beach, except we were in a house with no windows overlooking a stream in the middle of Costa Rica. As I recorded a piece of our wonderful evening I thought, This is what life is about. I was with strangers but the atmosphere--serene, content, adventurous, fulfilled, worry-free-- brought us together to enjoy that magnificent experience with the highest level of joy and gratitude for living. I was so happy listening and singing along without a care in the world. That was the first evening I did not want to see come to an end. And those are the exact moments we need more of in our lives. They're good for our hearts, our souls, and our well-being in general. We are all overdue, wouldn't you say, for a night of clean fun? So what are we waiting for?!

They weren't chickens and they weren't ducks. We were very confused.

It was her birthday so the owner painted her face with the natural colors of a flower he cut before us.

Perfectly-positioned benches to meditate and reflect.

Parts of this tour were scary. A real corn maze.

Papayas, which I confirmed I do not like. 

Sugar canes.

Yucca. I don't remember why he was sad.

I want to say this was a banana tree but I don't see any on it. 

Costa and Rica.

Most of us felt sorry for the ox for having to be tied up like this, but it was "confirmed" that they were free to roam most of the time, as they only worked a few days a week. Lazies. 

This contraption is still used on the premises to squeeze the juice out of the sugar canes. The bamboo-looking plant is placed between two cilinders that extract the liquid as the ox rotate the machinery. 

Flaccid cane. 

Ta-dah! Sugar cane water. [Applause]

Extracted canes are left out to dry and used as fuel. Talk about coming around full circle. This country rocks!

My posse making tortillas. Nothing is for free. 

El comal. I could've been at my grandma's, as far as I knew.

Casona in the inside.

Our dining table.

The view. Not too shabby.

The perfect guy showed us how to make shots with guaro, their version of tequila.

Hun-gree!!!

Pura Vida!!! (Tortilla, yucca, black beans, carne con chile, white rice) 

Evening sky in Costa Rica. Oh, how I miss thee!

Before I left to Costa Rica, I asked my colleague, a native of the country, if I would be beheaded if I didn't drink the coffee. You see, coffee is big in the Central American country and, well, I'm not. But she assured me I would be fine. Upon my arrival, though, I decided I would lose my coffee virginity and chose to do it, finally, right then and there at Casona. When the cooks offered it, I accepted and prepared my palate for a drink I couldn't even stand the smell of.

To my disappointment, it was cold. We had been served a chilled drink that apparently wasn't supposed to be. Everyone had asked for milk and whatnot to make this disgusting drink delectable and most of us ended up leaving it on the table. I least I tried. 

Soon after, we were homeward bound. I had forgotten my neck was still stiff until I remembered we were heading back to the hotel with the hot springs... and it wasn't raining! As soon as we arrived, Jackie and I changed and practically sprinted to the last pool, since we had been told it was the warmest one. Two more friends joined us and we spent about an hour chatting with other Americains as we sweated out toxins. 

Needless to say, I fell asleep with a happy heart. I wish for your nights to end this way every day.