Costa Rica Unplugged: Day 8, Part 3-- Snakes, Classy Bitches, and... Romance???

After I descended from the last tree like a monkey, I was ready to get back on those zip lines again. But it would have to wait until a future adventure, in a different place and at a different time. 

With an hour to spare at Selvatura Park, we skipped through nine suspension bridges and a humming bird garden. 

A fellow traveler had a good eye. Can you spot him???

How about this one?

One of the girls and I were walking side by side comparing our teaching careers when she jumped and yelled. When I looked back, I saw the reason for her howl. She practically rubbed elbows with the thing, if he had a skeleton. 

This was the same snake stretching its way back to the neighboring tree. 

Hummingbird close up.

How To Catch a Hummingbird, coming to theaters this spring. 

Because daytime walks and animals weren't enough, Jackie and I signed up for a night time hike with a few others. This activity confirmed our nerd status, not only on this trip, but in the world.

Another sloth sighting.

Tarantula camouflaging. 

A viper!

Snake, that is.

Not a car.

A giant walking stick.

Freakishly big snail.

Sleeping toucan.

I'm exhausted just thinking about that day. Even now, I wish I could say I got to my hotel room, showered, and knocked out but it wasn't over. Our guide had promised us "the local experience" and to save time, I only washed the dirt off my body, not my hair. I put my tresses up, threw on a black and gold skirt, black racer-back and sandals. By ten, Jackie and I walked, yet again, under the drizzle and crossed a deserted shopping center towards the bustle of the town on the other side.

We were the first ones to arrive at the club. The rest of our group, those who didn't need hours to get ready for dinner like my sister, were doing just that at the restaurant next door. We paid the cover charge and found our guide and driver sitting near the bar past the dance floor. I asked for a menu as soon as I sat because I was famished. For some reason, I only ordered fries and a rum and coke. I assessed the place while I waited, giving it two thumbs up for music selection (it was playing my favorite: reggaeton, salsa, merengue, and some cumbias) and size (large, spacious dance floor). My eyes then landed on a black girl with short curly hair and a perky kadunkadunk. She moved her behind so sensually, seductively, and effortlessly to the rhythm of the music; it was as if her butt had its own brain. While her legs moved left and right, her buttocks went round and round like a ferris wheel, independently of its body. And she didn't crave the attention, she just attracted it. There she was minding her own business, dancing the night away, and there we were gravitating towards her, young and old, male and female. I turned to the guys to point them in the right direction but they were already entranced. The tour guide commented that she was most likely from Panama, the neighboring country to the south. Men were dreaming of bumping and grindin' with her while I sat completely envious of the gift and talent God had blessed her with.

Our group trickled in shortly after whilst I licked my fingers of the last of the fries (I know, equally sexy as the Panamanian girl). Most of them were buzzed which meant their courage meters were full. So they hit the dance floor until their tanks were empty. I waited for an invitation to join them when one of the girls bought me a shot out of the drunkenness of her heart. I think, though, she just wanted me to relax since I always (so I'm told) seem tense. Just then, another cool chick from our group came up to Jackie and me. Apparently, she had been watching us take shots throughout the trip. She claimed we downed tequila with a straight face and was dumbfounded by our lack of what I like to call, fuchi faces, or cringing. So she nicknamed us Classy Bitches.

I eventually strutted my stuff with our driver and tour guide doing salsa and bachata numbers and just plain goofing around with the group. Then it was I who ran out of gas around one in the morning. I went from being a Classy Bitch to simply a Bitch. I no longer wanted anything to do with a club or drunk people because they were acting and looking stupid. They were sweaty, with their hair stuck to their faces, and they slurred their words. I wanted to be tucked in my fluffy hotel bed. But I also didn't want to be the reason why Jackie left prematurely. One of the girls decided to leave at that moment and I wanted so badly to walk back with her. But I wanted to hang until closing time and close the party down like a true single American living The Dream. I watched the hands on my watch move for sixty minutes until it read 2am, which is typical closing time for US clubs, but the DJ kept playing. My anxiety level rose. I couldn't stay any longer. I had to leave. I looked for Jackie to conjure her to bounce with me when I saw her in the air. Stemming from a white guy's arms, he spun her around in circles as if she were a helicopter preparing for lift off. Initially, I was livid. How could she still want or have the energy to party? Didn't she, at some point, tell herself, Ok, this was fun but it's time to go? When it was obvious that she didn't, my heart sank. I knew I wasn't going to to get out of there just yet and that's how I reached maximum tiredly Angry Bitch status.

As I sat there with an invisible electronic mosquito human zapper acting as my aura (instead of my less threatening Keep Out sticker posted on my forehead), an attractive guy came to my table. I seriously looked behind me searching for the person he was trying to address-- a young, energetic girl-- because I had my caca face on and have always been told that it's a pretty scary one. But he kept talking and looking at me. Little did he know I wasn't in the mood for assholes who thought they could get their way because of the time and assumption that I must be drunk.

"Let me buy you a drink," he said in Spanish.

"No, thank you," I responded, also in my first language.

"Then why come to a club and not drink," he asked.

"I already had two cuba libres and a shot," I replied. "Who comes to the club at closing time to buy a girl a drink, anyway" I shot back.

But neither my attitude nor my raccoon eyes scared him away. He must've not gotten some in quite some time, perhaps a week, because he insisted I have one more drink with him. Just at that moment, Jackie walked past me towards the bar with the white boy and the rest of our gang. I still didn't foresee my hotel room in my immediate future so I caved.

Rico Suave was tall with dark hair, beady eyes, and a strong jaw that reminded me of one of my uncles'. He wore either a sweater or sweater vest, both of which were too formal for the club but made him stand out, nonetheless. He sat to my left after he brought the drinks and because I cannot stand a moment of silence, I asked him for his friends. He claimed they were sitting in the upper level but I didn't believe him. I assumed he had just arrived, maybe from a date or a late night business transaction, to scope out the scene and see how lucky he could get. I didn't call him out on my theory, though, there was no point. It was late, I would be gone soon, and I would never see him again. If his lies made him happy, who was I to bring him down?

I asked him what he did. He claimed to supervise one of Costa Rica's largest supermarket chains.

"The one with the chicken," I asked.

He might have clarified it was a rooster.

"I thought they were El Pollo Loco," I said. He looked at me dumbfounded so I explained. "I had no idea they were grocery stores."

Rico Suave supposedly also ran a few inns in town. He asked me where I was staying and said he knew the owners well. Then he wanted to know what I did and I confirmed his suspicion that I was a teacher. My seriousness and caution-centered self had given me away, he said. That's when Rico Suave started to grow on me. He was shedding the jerk label I had placed on him when he first came up to me because he understood and laughed at my jokes. That's how I knew he was smart, so smart, in fact, he met me head to head with his own dry humor.

I enjoyed his company, surprisingly, and even wished we were back in California so we could have a real chance of going out. But at the same time, knowing he was just a passerby in my life made it easy to talk to him because I would never see him again. Just then, Jackie decided it was time to go. Against my will, I got off the stool and walked behind her and another girl with Rico Suave by my side. It was still drizzling outside. The girls walked ahead of us, stopping short of turning the street while he and I stood feet from the club entrance. Rico Suave said he could walk me home so my friends wouldn't have to wait for me but I had seen enough movies to know what could happen to me: kidnapped, cut into pieces, raped, killed and buried in a remote place. I assured him they were fine waiting for me, at least Jackie would have to be since I'd done the same for her several times; it was standard girlfriend protocol. Sensing his time had run out, he asked if there was a way he could stay in contact with me. I wasn't going to give him my number but I sure as hell didn't mind a pen pal. Willing to give him my email, he took out his phone but couldn't work it so I jotted his address in mine. My heart beat fast thinking he was now going to try to kiss me. I didn't know what my instinct would be. Would I allow him to come in or would I block him with my hand to his chest? Would I meet him halfway with my head tilted? Or would I let him do all the work? I turned to Jackie and she gave me the same look I had given her an hour before. Knowing our time was up, Rico Suave moved towards me and threw his arms around me. Somewhat disappointed, I embraced him too. As we unlocked, I want to say I remember him kissing my cheek. I turned around and caught up to my sister.

Costa Rica Unplugged: Day 8, Part 2-- Fears Conquered

I went to Costa Rica with no plans of zip lining even though my coworkers and friends painted it to be unicorns and rainbows. But my fear of falling drove my decision. 

When I was little, I lived in a one-bedroom apartment with my family. I had recurring nightmares where I'd lean on the railing to look down and the fence would fall off, thus sending me on a two-story drop. Besides being terrified of hitting the floor and dying, I could not stand that feeling of weakness and breathlessness in my chest as I took the plunge. As with any nightmare, I always woke up before slamming onto the ground, gasping for air as my eyelids opened in the darkness. 

That sensation in my chest has deterred me from participating in normal (roller coasters) and extreme (sky diving) activities. I can handle speed, like Space Mountain in Disneyland, but not Splash Mountain ever again. Zip lining is right up there with the no-no recreational pastimes for me. It's just that in order for a person to be able to swing from one standing post to another, there has to be some sort of kinetic energy (Wow, I just boggled myself for having used this term, a word I never thought I'd utter again after high school physics with Mr. Andersen. Proper usage of such vocabulary is besides the point here). I assumed that body weight and very high altitude created the speed needed to get across the wire. Thus my problem with zip lining. I could not fathom the idea of tolerating that free-falling sensation in my chest, that crazy need to fill my lungs with air, that desperation for control to stop the motion before hitting a tree.

But after I saw almost everyone's name on the sign-up sheet, fear of regret began to take over. First of all, I worried that I'd be the lame-o sitting around the lobby while everyone else lived. I'd never forgive myself when I saw how happy and satisfied everyone else would be when they returned. I could not put myself through that again. I had experienced disappointment in my own decisions one too many times, like not buying the over-priced shoes or clothes or sunglasses only to later hate myself for it. So I took the plunge (hehe) and jotted my name under "Zip lining" where backing out was not an option-- legal tender always motivates me to max out my money's worth. 

Group pic.

I was so nervous when we climbed up to the first line. To make matters worse, I was almost the last one. My plan had been to be number three but somehow or another, I ended up in the end. I paid close attention to the directions of the guides: hold on to the rope holding me up with my left, right index finger to thumb around the wire for quick access to the brakes, arm slightly behind me, ankles crossed, knees up. With my guts practicing a gymnastics routine inside my stomach, I stepped off the first platform. 

I was not supposed to be coming in sideways. 

I did feel a little bit of that awful sensation in my chest through the first line but it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. What was scarier was that I zipped sideways, something the guide had told us to avoid. I could not straighten out as much as I repositioned my body or pulled my legs up. But then, I could care less about coming in head-on. All I focused on was the tree ahead of me. I started braking but I did not seem to slow down. So I pressed my palm, where the braking pad was, firmer on the line but that glove was harder to control than a 3,000 pound vehicle. Unbeknownst to me, there was a large cylinder on the line above the platform that stopped us from crashing into the tree. I came to rest with a heavy thud and a guide pulled me in to safety. 1 down, 12 to go.

By the third line, I had started to enjoy the activity. I tried being mindful of the scenery, the forest below, and made it my goal to spot a monkey. But then my group got held back to accommodate a family who had a flight in a few hours. Having them cut ahead took at least fifteen minutes of waiting around 700 to 2,000 feet in the air on a platform held together by more wires drilled into the tree that swayed with the light wind. I expressed my loss of adrenaline to my peers and they felt the same way. Our fun had been interrupted.

Once we got going, I smiled again. Fear had dissipated for the most part and I even giggled when one of the guides started flirting with me. He asked my name and I provided it as I told him I was too old for him. He assured me he wasn't as I reassured him I was. So he said I could not be over 20, 22 max, and had I had a dollar on me, I would've handed it to him. At the next line, he asked me how old I thought he was and I said 15 or 16 but when he guaranteed he was legal, I changed my answer to 18. He claimed to recently have entered adulthood and that it was his first day on the job. Then he sent me off swinging. 

I knew he was full of shit and only trying to scare me. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the rest of the lines until the clouds settled in at number 13, obscuring the 3,000 foot line way before the halfway point. Jackie and I were last, so a guide rode with each one of us 1) to create more weight to better the chances of getting across, and 2) so we wouldn't get stuck in the middle by ourselves. It was the craziest thing! We were told to lay back and wrap our legs around theirs. That meant we were looking up at the sky. Midway, the air was so thick I could see droplets floating like those you see from a plane when it's cutting through a cloud. It was then that I realized I was zipping through clouds! All I saw was white at that point and my eyelashes felt like they had snowflakes at the tips. My guide and I reached the landing first and Jackie and her partner got stuck feet from reaching the platform. Her partner pulled them in and that's how my first zip lining experience concluded. 

As soon as we were done, I was ready to get back up again. Because I knew what it felt like, I wanted to fully enjoy the experience by giving into it completely with my five senses. I guess I'll have return.

Costa Rica Unplugged: Day 8, Part 1-- Forest and Butterflies

We maxed out Day 8 in Monteverde with activities. We hiked in a cloud forest, toured a butterfly garden, zip-lined, walked through hanging bridges, saw a hummingbird pavilion, took a night hike, and concluded the day the following morning at a local club. 

I was so excited to go hiking. It's an activity I enjoy doing regularly locally but knew Costa Rica would offer views I had never even dreamed of in Southern California. I was actually pretty bummed we had waited so long to take our first nature walk since I had anticipated way more outdoor activities in such a woodsy place.

It was drizzling when we arrived to the cloud forest. Our guide gathered us to give us some information about the park before taking off. We were about one hour in when we crossed paths with another tourist group and their guide. They told us the walkway was obstructed by a fallen tree. Our leader walked ahead of us and confirmed that we wouldn't get much further so we turned back. I was so disappointed. I hiked back twice as slow taking in every view, leaf, raindrop, and bug in an attempt to maximize the short walk. 

Check out the hand on the bottom to compare it to the size of the fern. It was the size of a patio umbrella.

A pop of color.

I miss that view. Not Jackie's rear, but the foliage. 

Tarzan and Jane type of stuff.

I love the colors!

Big tree.

So many trees and not a single monkey sighting.

The cloud part of cloud forest.

Nerd.

Centipede, millipede... I still don't know.

We heard beautiful songs in the trees but never found the singers :(

Half the time, my brain thinks in Spanish. "Musgo."

One of these things does not belong.

After the cloud forest, we drove to Selvatura Park where we started with the butterfly garden. I had just visited the Natural History Museum in Los Angeles where a butterfly display was being exhibited. It felt a little redundant for me but I kept my eyes peeled for new and colorful things. All I could think about throughout my walk was how great it would be for my students to be there with me seeing firsthand, instead of reading about, the life cycle of a butterfly. I needed to be a better teacher and take them on field trips but those cost money that I didn't have. The next best thing I could do was capture what I found to compile them into a Power Point presentation. 

Beautiful macaw parrots.

Eggs.

My favorite color.

Caterpillar.

Many caterpillars.

Turning into cocoons.

Cricket.

Acrobat caterpillar.

Hummingbird.

Up next, zip lining. I was nervous. My stomach churned. I felt like I had to take a dump.