September 22: Thursday night Latin American Dance class was incredibly entertaining. There is something humorous about twenty white kids doing the Cha-Cha in the entrance of the public library. But it gets better.....
After class, me and a few other friends met at the local skate rink. Molly, Spencer, Caitlyn, Danica, Jade and I glided our way into the walls, the floor, the rails, and each other. My roller skating skills attracted a few obsessive skaters. A fifty year old man taught me how to boogy in my skates. He also decided that I was talented enough to dart through the rest of the roller rink population at an accelerated speed and flare. He took my hand and led me through the masses while fluently spinning and whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Funny how an old man can be humorous when playing the moves, but if he would have been in his prime I would have ran in embarrassment.
The adventure peaked as Richard and Kenny moved their tardy butts in to join us. Neither one knew how to skate so Molly and I took the liberty to enlighten them. Richard was fully uncoordinated and Kenny resembled a scoliosis victim, but both were determined.
September 23: The next adventure begins.
After school Molly, Danica, Caitlyn, Jade, Natalie and I trudge through San Jose to our Caribbean bus terminal. A dirty five hours later we arrive in Puerto Viejo, Limon. The city reeks of Marijuana and Rasta. The entire town was fixated with black, green, yellow and red: Bob Marley would be at home in this little surfer nook. Our cabs were paid for by our awesome hostel, Rocking J's. The owner, J, many years ago smoked a joint, jumped in the ocean, and thought "I am going to build a hostel here." J went home to the States, and earned enough to purchase the facility, and still jumps in the ocean higher than a kite.
We purchased delightfully colored hammocks for a whopping $6 a night. Rocking J's is known for its friendly atmosphere for travelers of all color and size. We were greeted by a institution of hippies and art. There were free art supplies that were available to any person with a creative twinge to release. Molly and I were gifted a designated area to let our artsie- fartsie juices flow. Molly did her memorable Ka-Blam series and I did a replica of the Boise Grove hotel's glass river on Front Street. Costa Rica, Boise Welcomes you!
After settling in and indulging in some fine canned tuna, we set off for the Hot Box town. There is no shame among the reefer culture. Sheltered child that I am was unaware of the existence or smells protruding from the popular drug; until this weekend. I am now aware of what it smells like and looks like due to the masses surrounding me at the restaurant table next to me, the beach, in the neighboring hammock, and on concert stage. Don't worry, for all of those curious: my high school drug training was successful. I retreated to my sheltered childhood reactions and avoided the paraphernalia.
We went to a few dancing destinations. Ragae was liquidating through our veins. I was ready to dred my hair and burn to a crisp under the Caribbean sun.
September 24: Waking up to the warmth of the sun on your skin and surf boards reflecting the breeze above you is a truly amazing way to awaken. This morning we rented beach cruisers for our five kilometer trip to Manzanillo Beach. We rented our cruisers for $5 and our snorkeling gear for $3! The bicycle ride was beautiful. We trekked up hills and through the jungle. We saw turtles, hand sized spiders, howler monkeys, and a sloth. I finally got to see a sloth. What a glorious sighting it was as we watched with intensity as the little guy made a glorified poop at the bottom of a tree and meandered on back up.
The coral reef in Manzanillo was breathtaking. Literally. I choked on gallons of sea water. My talent does not lie under the sea. I had always day dreamed about being the little mermaid. Today, when my dreams could have become reality, I failed miserably. I couldn't sing an award winning musical nor did my little fishy friends communicate back.
Later that evening, we enjoyed an amazing dinner at Rocking J's. There was a large storm coming over the horizon. Bringing a light show and light shower, the storm was a great addition to our dancing on the beach. On the walk home, there was a motorcyclist who decided to drive close enough to us to hit me. Yes, hit me. I have no idea what would cause a craving to intensely to drive by a group of people and smack them. The human race amazes me at times.
I haven't been rocked to sleep in years. My evening was peaked as I sifted in my hammock in a room full of fellow travelors under a tin roof that sang me to sleep under the pitter patter of the rain.
September 25: Molly and I woke up early to finish our artwork legacy. I am currently the designer of Locker number "Camping #3." We finished our time in Puerto Viejo with a little fun under the sun and coconut throwing. One of our newly made friends, Carlos Thissen from Germany, was found on Playa Negra chucking coconuts up into the tree for a shower of coconut juice awaiting our tongues below. Hot and sticky we made our way home ready for our next adventure.
No comments:
Post a Comment