Costa Rica Unplugged: Day 4, Part 2- Creepy Crawlers

My chocolate high wore off when our tour guide started talking about our over-night stay in Sarapiqui. Standing at the front of the bus with a microphone in his hand, he told us we were going to be sleeping in tents in the middle of the jungle-looking forest. There were no locks, so our personal belongings had to be left in the safes inside the bathrooms which we would have keys for. He recommended we ask for flashlights at the front desk and walk in pairs at all times.

I was scared. Jackie was scared. Especially after rumor had it that venomous snakes called Sarapiqui home. It was raining. We were tired. And we were hungry. But there was no point on worrying until we arrived. Because it was then that the real struggle began. Jackie and I had to balance our over-loaded suitcases and carry-ons up a narrow gravel walkway with turns and bends in the rain. Maintenance workers helped a few of the girls with their belongings but they never caught up or saw us in the darkness to give us a hand. After hiking up the luggage a very steep step onto the porch of our sleeping quarters, we were home. Our hearts raced as our wet clothes clung on to our shaky bodies. But we still took the time to stop and take it all in.

View of our tent through the screen.

Under the tap-tap-tap of the rain, we unzipped the entrance just enough to allow our bodies in. We were aware that our flashlights attracted mosquitoes and didn't want to risk allowing more through than those probably clinging to us already. I claimed the full-sized bed on the left by placing my bag on it while Jackie let her stuff drop to the floor in front of the one on the right. There was a tall fan in the corner and and camping lantern atop the nightstand between the beds. A hallway led to the bathroom where the inescapable bugs crawled and flew near and around the light fixture, toilet, and sink. We spotted the safe, placed our valuables inside, and locked the door to keep the bugs concentrated in that area of the tent. Neither one of us considered showering at the time. It was pointless to bathe when we'd be drenched in an hour's time again when we headed down for dinner. So we cleaned up a bit instead, soaking up the shine off our faces with oil blotter sheets, and sprayed the bejesus out of the bug spray onto our limbs. It was then that we were ready to relax, as much as anyone could in the middle of a black rainy forest. 

Jackie grabbed our cans of Rock Limon and suggested we kick back on the porch. But that only lasted a few minutes. We could not let loose while watching our backs. There were roaches on the plastic covering of our tent, giant spiders on the rail, and things buzzing in circles around the light on the ceiling. Continuously slapping creepy crawlers off our legs made us forget that sitting on the rustic chairs was supposed to be fun.

All pretend.

Didn't do a thing to help us relax! 

Laughing out of fear.

Another phony shot.

NOT phony.

The lit view down below.

We tried finishing our beers before heading to dinner but my nerdy self told Jackie to seize the light rain before the next downpour. So with our cans in tow, I led the way, fulfilling my role as the older sister, sweeping the flashlight left and right, scanning the vicinity for deadly snakes. When we arrived to the covered area, our group was already sitting. We found seats, left the flashlights as place holders on the table, and stood in the buffet line. The tour guide said we'd be having BBQ that night and I had pictured a relaxing summer evening in a green park with someone standing by a grill making kebabs. But the beef had already been cooked and rested nicely in a steel rectangular serving dish with a heating candle underneath. 

Jackie and I were about to settle into our chairs when we spotted a cat. Being cat ladies, we went nuts playing and petting him as we ate. It was suggested we didn't touch or feed him during our meal but our actions were innate. I don't think Jackie had even recalled owning a feline during the trip until coming across the orange tabby, thus reminding her of Tuxy. But that's as deep as her feelings went. Other than missing sharing a pillow with her furry friend or having Tuxy request food by caressing Jackie's cheek with her paw, the desire to be home stopped there. It was the same for me. You see, Jackie and I were born without the homesick gene. The obligation, rather than the desire, to visit my family was the main reason I went as often as I did. A variant of such angst, though, does emerge here and there when I'm stressed or over-worked and that's how I know I'm not completely heartless. 

Here Kitty, Kitty.

The evening came to a close in the lounge. Everyone shared the alcohol they bought earlier at the supermarket as we listened to 90's hits on the music television station. Our guide interrupted by relating a complaint from other visitors that we were too loud. So we turned down the TV but our laughter could not be contained. We hung out until around midnight and then we dispersed to our insect infested tents. I spotted a little green frog at the foot of a tree in front of our encampment and we went crazy taking pictures of the bravest amphibian on the property. Jackie hit the sack as soon as we stepped inside and I started a staring competition with a daddy long legs in the shower. Then I turned the bed down and doused it with bug spray, along with my body, before slipping into my arachnid sleeping bag. 

The calm before the storm.

There once was a green little frog, frog, frog...