Our route

Here's our planned route - contacts/advice for all destinations welcome! Or why not come & meet us somewhere ;-)

Feb/March - Ukraine to Istanbul, via Moldova (& Transnitria)/Romania/Serbia/Bulgaria (Lisa); south France to Istanbul, via Slovenia/Italy/Greece (Chris)
April - Istanbul, Jordan & Israel
late April/May - north India to Nepal, overland
June/July - Hong Kong, Thailand/Cambodia/Vietnam (Hanoi)/South Korea/Japan
August - Hawaii & California
September/October - central America - Panama to Guatemala, overland
late October - arrive in Canada (Uxbridge, ON)

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Gentlemen, the Queen ...

Despite our shared heritage, it's been a bit of mild culture shock settling into life in Canada. One difference I've noticed centred around Remembrance Day. My father-in-law, Jack, is involved with the local Royal Canadian Legion so we're quite aware of veterans' affairs in our house. But there is also a wide and deep appreciation of the sacrifices, past and present, of Canada's armed forces; more so than I usually feel back in London. Now, this could be due to being in a small town now where Remembrance Day events are more noticeable but I think that there is a greater respect all-round here.

Cenotaph outside Uxbridge library
It hit me with some force when Lisa, Jack and myself attended a Remembrance dinner at the Legion. During this social and solemn event, not only did Jack deliver a powerful rendition of the poem 'In Flanders' Fields' but we toasted the Queen and ended singing 'God Save the Queen'. It struck me that I couldn't remember the last time I'd done either of these things at home.

Are we sometimes embarrassed by national feeling in the UK, or see it as no longer relevant? What I experienced in Uxbridge was not any kind of jingoistic nationalism but more a sense of community and duty. It was humbling and hopeful, and those pipes always bring a tear to my eye ...

The pipe band on Brock St.



Crowds at the cenotaph



Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Settling in....

(Lisa's post....while Chris is interviewing at the employment agency!)

Oh dear.  Last published post was on 8 October....

Bye bye volcanoes
Oooh...nearly asked if we could get off here!
Florida = one big swamp
We arrived in Canada on 24 October.  Dad picked us up at the airport at midnight - easy to spot as always, with his cowboy hat! - and took us on a late-night drive through some of the neighbourhoods between there and home.  We squeezed in a stop at Tim Hortons (of course) at about 2:30am - quite amazing how many people were there at that hour!





Since then we've been settling into Uxbridge...well, at least as settled as we can get while wedged into Mom & Dad's spare room!  We've attended a host of local events including a pie auction (bought 3 pies hee hee); a winter coat sale (two coats apiece, plus hats & scarves & gloves - total spend $20, perfect for unemployed ex-backpackers!); and a Remembrance Day dinner (beef, argh, but otherwise delicious).  We've also been doing lots of paperwork which actually seems to be more straightforward for Chris than it is for me.  Canadian friends & followers, did you know that our SIN numbers become "dormant" if unused for more than 5 years?  And that you must present your original birth certificate in order to re-activate the darned thing?  Whereas Chris just had to show his passport and immigration documents, and he was issued with a new SIN that he could use immediately.  We sure feel sorry for anyone without a car though, because we had to go to several different towns to get everything sorted.

We've also had some fairly amusing issues with Mom & Dad's address, which is a post office box.  Many government departments won't accept this as our address, so we've "invented" an address which is a hybrid of the street address with the post office postal code.  This will probably result in some kind of mail limbo for all our most important paperwork.  It also prevented us from getting a great deal on a mobile (cell) phone because the address check failed in their system (who knows what it was checking the address against...no combination of our street & P.O. box addresses would work!).  However, we did manage to get a phone directly from Virgin by paying a $100 security deposit, which will be refunded if we manage to resist doing a runner over the next 6 months.

It took us a long time to decide what phone company to use because cell phone costs are really different here.  Unlike the UK, there are no special "mobile" phone numbers; instead, you get a number which corresponds to your local area, and call charges are based on whether the caller is local or long distance when they call you.  So if you take your Toronto phone to Ottawa, and your friend calls you from Toronto, they pay long distance charges without even realising it.  Also, BOTH parties pay for the call (or the minutes are deducted from your account, if you still have some available for that month).  At least, we think that's how it works....nice, eh?  Voicemail is almost always an add-on "extra", as are sending & receiving text messages.  In the end we went with Virgin because they only charge $5 for voicemail (with a limit of 10 messages argh), have free unlimited (international!) texts in the $25 contract, and don't have any long distance charges within Canada.

Bank accounts are similarly bizarre, with monthly fees as well as "per transaction" fees.  We were thinking of just keeping our money in an old sock until we found out that Chris could get a special "new immigrant" bank account which is fee-free for a year.  I did manage to "wake up" my old account but we've decided to keep it as a (not very active) savings account to avoid any fees for now.

Lake Simcoe
But before you start thinking "why would anyone move to such a crazy place", I have to say that the unlimited fresh air and wide open skies are just as I remember them.  It's soooo nice to travel around the local countryside and lakes, just admiring the rolling farmland in the late autumn sunshine!  And we're having a great time reuniting with old friends & lots of family.  It's going to be amazing to spend Christmas with everyone - even Susan and Larry (sister & brother-in-law) are coming up from California!  We'll miss the Streets & Solway gangs of course, but they'll be sunning themselves in Oman so I'm sure they'll be fine without us  ;-)

We've been chatting to lots of people on Skype which is great, but there are always lots of people we haven't spoken to in far too long.  We haven't forgotten any of you and we hope you will stay in touch!  You can reach us on chris.lisa_streets on Skype, or email us on we.are.the.streets*at*gmail.com.

<sales pitch alert> Local folks, you've probably noticed from my Facebook page that I've started a custom-made shamballa bracelet business in Uxbridge....please come & visit me at the Farmer's Market (inside at the Arena) on Sunday 25th November between 10am and 2pm.  In case you needed any further enticement, it's my birthday  ;-)  Also please spread the word to friends, family & colleagues!  The bracelets make great, highly personal Christmas gifts.  I can mail them anywhere in Canada for $5. <sales pitch over> It's been a lot of fun going to the small craft markets over the past 2 weekends, brings back memories of the My Secret Kitchen days....
See more shamballas on www.tinyurl.com/LisaBracelets
And for everyone - don't worry, we will add in the missing blog entries over the next few weeks.  It's our goal to have them all published by the end of the year!  So you will still have plenty of adventures to read about, plus a special post where we rate our gear (to help all of you who are planning similar adventures  ;-)  ).

Gotta run...need to track down the organiser of this Saturday's Santa Claus Parade in Uxbridge so I can volunteer!   Big hugs to everyone!!!

Friday, October 12, 2012

Dodging the police - Honduras to Guatemala

We wake early - it's a long day of travel ahead, and we're worried about what problems our missing entrance stamps might cause at the Honduran border.  But we take a few minutes to walk back up to the seafront at Omoa, since we couldn't appreciate it properly after last night's post-sunset arrival.  We really like the bay - it's calm & quiet, with a few fishermen and a couple of swimmers.  There are some restaurants with decks built out over the water.  It's just like Thailand but without the hordes of tourists!  Of course, this is the off season, but we've heard that the lack of beach (and possibly the lack of waves as well) has discouraged tourism overall.  Funny, neither of these things bothers us!

We turn back towards town and start the 2km walk back to the highway.  We are keen to avoid a large fine at the border, and we reckon that the best way of doing this is to be carrying very little cash.  They can't take what we don't have...right?  Consequently we have just 30 lempira to spare for breakfast, so we share a baleada (L15) at a nice little cafe, in the company of a government employee and his girlfriend.  They try gamely to chat with us in Spanglish  =)

On our way to the bus stop we try to find some drinking yogurt at various different pulperias, but no joy.  This will turn out to be a good thing, since our bus journey won't go quite as we planned...

We don't have to wait too long for the bus to Corinto, and to our delight it's less than half full.  We head to the back and throw our backpacks behind the seat.  The conductor comes to collect our fare but doesn't want us to go all the way to Corinto with him...unfortunately, we can't work out quite what he DOES want us to do, but it definitely involves changing buses.  He's so earnest, and clearly intent on helping us, so we agree with his mysterious plan.  We check our remaining cash against his predicted fare for the 2nd bus, and it seems like we'll have L15 to spare...

We roll along for an hour or so, passing a dozen or more playa (beach) communities on our right, and rolling hills & farms on our left.  We make a rather weird backtrack through a riverside town - not an express bus, then.  We are even stopped by the navy (?!?), and Chris - along with all the other males - is searched.  Too bad there's no chance to get a photo of all the boys lined up like criminals against the side of the bus.  Our passports are inspected, and the other (local) passengers produce various bits of identification, except 3 teenage-looking girls who seem to be without ID.  They have an extended chat with the crowd of armed officers, but this might just be an excuse for some sly flirting - pretty much every officer looks to be under 25, and the girls are cute!  After a few minutes we are all allowed to re-board the bus and continue our journey.

Just after we pass through a small village called Tegucigulpita (hee hee), the conductor indicates that we should disembark.  This is kind of a relief because the bus is now empty except for us and one other passenger, so it's feeling a bit weird!  As we are getting off, the conductor flags a taxi (unbidden, of course).   Not surprisingly his L100 fare to the border is too steep for us, so we send him back on his way.  Next, the driver of one of the bevy of moto-taxis comes over and asks us if we are travelling to the frontera, and how much the bus costs for this trip.  We quote our previous conductor at about L50 for 2 people, which is clearly unappealing to the moto-taxi guy.  He bids us a good journey & indicates that we should sit in the shade, since it'll be 40 minutes until the next bus - doh!  The throng of moto-taxis drives off in various directions (rather reinforcing his point - clearly no buses are expected for a while) and leave us to curse and pull out the trusty deck of cards.

But Chris has barely shuffled when a bus appears on the horizon - thankfully emblazoned with the word Frontera!  We grab our gear and clamber aboard.  The backpacks end up at the very front of the bus near the door - not ideal for a border crossing, where we are often rushed by "helpful people" who'd like to guarantee our business by grabbing our stuff! - but there is an empty seat nearby so we just keep a watchful eye.  After all, we have no money to be parted with so it won't take much talking to reclaim our bags if necessary.

We needn't have worried.  Within 30 minutes we reach the border, and although a small shouty crowd appears around the bus, it transpires that they are all money-changers (you can tell because they're all yelling "cambio" (change) ).  With no money to change, we grab our bags and start the short walk to the border.  On the way, we spend our last L19 on a Gatorade (which is worth L21 - thanks to the nice gent in the shop who took pity on poor travellers).  We come over a tiny hill and spot the border station - which looks exactly like a bus station, weirdly - just ahead.  Hearts in throats, we head towards it.

It's not busy at all - just 4 people in a single line - but we're not sure if this is a help or a hindrance in our situation.  Within a couple of minutes of our arrival, a very American-sounding immigration officer asks us to come to her newly-opened window to be processed.  But another fellow jumps in ahead of us, so we end up with the Spanish-only officer.  He looks through our passports but they fail to yield the narrow white form that one usually completes when entering Honduras.  Of course, we remembered this form from our border crossing between Nicaragua & Honduras...but failed to work out that it's absence would make it impossible for immigration to "not notice" our missing entry stamps from the El Salvador crossing.  After some rapid conversation with the female officer (who directs a few questions at us), it appears that we do indeed have a problem.  It's left to the woman to explain the situation to us.

Basically, we are now considered to be illegal immigrants and this means we need to pay a fine of over L3000 each (that's more than US$ 300 for the pair of us).  One of the American teachers we met at D&D had warned us that this happened to him once, but it's still a shock to be asked for such a huge sum of money over what seems like such a small thing!    Our faces must say it all...but just in case, we tell them that we simply don't have that kind of money.  We're also told that we can return to our point of entry to sort it out - but that's many miles away now, and of course they have no record of us so we can't imagine that it would be successful.

They confer, and the woman asks us if we intend to return to Honduras.  Upon hearing that we don't, she says that there may be another option which will cost only US$ 20 each, and requires a phone call to get approval from a higher authority.  Chris pulls out his wallet and shows them our US$ 23.  They don't look happy, and the woman heads back to her own window to process a few more people who've arrived while we've been talking.  The man fusses around for a while with our passports and some paperwork that looks totally unrelated to us, then waves us over to one side with a "wait, please".

We stand in the middle of the immigration building - in the bit that looks like a bus concourse - and worry about what will happen next.  We hope that the fellow is calling the right people to give us the $20 "special deal" - although we don't know how we'll actually pay for this, as our "emergency fund" (intended to get us to Guatemalan immigration, which is some distance away) is only another $10.  But it's also possible that he's calling the police and the next step will be arrest & prison.  The longer we wait, the more we think it will be the latter, and we really begin to understand how intimidation works.  If they offered us the chance to pay the L6000 in fines in order to avoid jail right now, we'd probably jump on the opportunity!  But instead, the female officer appears - seemingly on her way to have a break - and says that her colleague has been looking for us.  She leads us to a side door of the "office" portion of the building and ushers us inside.  She says we can "have a discussion" when she gets back...this sounds ominous, so in spite of the air conditioning we are still sweating profusely.

There are now 2 male officers at work in the building and we watch them fire questions at incoming & outgoing people.  Every once in a while, they look at us and/or our passports (which are sitting on their desk) and mutter something to each other.  They are unfailingly polite to us, however, and keep telling us to "wait please".  We've now been waiting for an hour or so and we still don't know what the final solution might be.

Suddenly, the officer we've been dealing with says "OK".  He grabs our passports and returns them, opens the door, and waves us towards the border, stating "Guatemala is there".  This seems too good to be true and we joke nervously about running across border just in case.  But it's all OK suddenly, although we'll never know what brought about his change of heart!  Was it our lousy Spanish that didn't allow him to tell us off eloquently; did he feel sorry for us because we had only $23 to our names; could he not be bothered with all the procedures (and undoubtedly paperwork) that come with treating people as criminals; or is the whole thing a set-up to scare people into producing all the money they've hidden in their socks & bras in order to pay the large fine?

So, now we are in Guatemala but still worried that their immigration will object to our missing Honduran stamps - we recall the officer at Sixaola who made us go back to Panama to change our date stamp - and to compound this, the Guatemalan immigration office is several km away.  We approach the waiting minivan whose conductor wants to know if we are going to Puerto Barrios, but we just keep reiterating that we want to go to Guatemalan immigration.  He's undoubtedly wondering why we are so obsessed with this!

He manages to stuff our bags under the back seat of the minibus, and installs us in the front seat next to the driver with the reasoning that it will make things faster at immigration.  We're the first on board so we have a while to let our heart rates slow down, and Chris takes the chance to exchange $20 for some Guatemalan quetzales via the ubiquitous money-changer so that we can pay our bus fare.  We're in luck that the next passenger is a Honduran-born, Guatemalan-dwelling, ex-New Yorker, so we find plenty to chat about while we're waiting for the van to fill up.

Before long we are underway, and we soon understand the reasoning for our front seat position.  We feel like royals as we luxuriate in our elbow room while more & more passengers pile into the van behind us.  It seems that there is no maximum capacity for these vans!

In about 15-20 minutes we arrive at Guatemalan immigration, which actually appears to be in the middle of nowhere.  We are escorted into the office by our conductor (who takes this opportunity to collect our fares - confusing!) and the immigration officer quickly stamps both passports with a 90-day allowance.  No questions, no stamp checks - phew!  We're herded back to the van and everyone piles on board again (they took advantage of the time to stretch their legs).  And....relax.

We're not sure if we'll go to Puerto Barrios, from where we can catch a boat to Livingstone and then another boat down the allegedly beautiful Rio Dulce; or whether to take the bus directly to Rio Dulce.  Amazingly it's only 12:30 so we decide that we have time for the longer route (and also we're sure to find an ATM in Puerto Barrios so that we can stop being so cash-poor).  It's probably another 30 minutes journey from the immigration office, but we're so relaxed now that Lisa dozes through most of it....

In Puerto Barrios there is a flock of taxi drivers, fixers, and other "helpful people".  We run away from them into an air-conditioned, frosted glass, lockable ATM room attached to the Banco Internacionales.  With a crisp Q1000 in hand, we head off to find the port so we can hire a lancha (water taxi) to Livingstone.  Plenty of people give us "directions" (which all seem to involve getting a taxi or other form of paid transport) so we eventually ask for some unbiased info from the guard at the Chiquita shipping facility.  Not only do we find the Livingstone boats, but also those heading for Belize....tempting!

Unfortunately our kindly captain-to-be, a distinctly Caribbean fellow with only 2 teeth, informs us that there are no afternoon boats from Livingstone to Rio Dulce town.  This seems weird as we've read that there are regular boats upriver from Puerto Barrios, so where on earth do they go when they get to Livingstone?  In this case, we decide that we should get the bus, because we don't want to waste a night in Livingstone & thereby reduce our time in Rio Dulce or points further.  So we walk back down towards the market/bus station, but take the time to stop for lunch at a tiny roadside place, where one of the options is just an unspecified "almuerzos" (lunch).  Turns out to be a tasty chicken & rice dish with some mysterious (but good) sauce.

We stop into the posh-looking Liteguat bus station to use their bathrooms  ;-)  While waiting for Chris, Lisa is amused (or scared?) by the giant ad for bus traveller's insurance.  For just Q3 you receive:

  • Life insurance, in case of death caused by accident or aggression
  • Medical coverage, in case of injury caused by accident or aggression
  • Personal belongings cover in case of theft
This doesn't seem like a reassuring advertisement for the bus service....

Bladders emptied, we emerge from the bus station to search for the local (economy) bus to Rio Dulce.  Of course, a fixer materialises beside us and insists that he'll arrange a minibus trip for us - as a taxi driver, he apparently knows all the minibus drivers and will ensure we get the right price.  Uh-huh....It takes us some time to escape from him but as we wander around the side streets, we realise that he was indicating the right area to find a minibus, so we have to return to his helpful clutches and he quickly sets us up with an empty vehicle.  We settle in to wait for more passengers.

The bus doesn't take too long to fill up and we're soon packed in like sardines. We hit the road to Morales.  As we leave Puerto Barrios, Lisa spots a shop called "Bombaza" which literally appears to have had an explosion of clothing boxes all across the frontage - people are wading through piles of clothes to find desirable bargains.  Makes Primark look like a luxury department store!

When we arrive in Morales (which looks like it's just an interchange on the highway, we must change to a different bus to reach Rio Dulce.  It's been a long day already and the 30-minute wait drags on forever.  But eventually a minibus arrives and we manage to complete our journey.

We weren't sure if we'd make it to Rio Dulce so we haven't arranged any accommodation - with sunset imminent, this is our top priority.  There is a new-looking hotel next to the bus stop where we check out a clean but boring room for Q120 (US$ 15).  It's tempting to just take it so we can fully relax after today's dramas, but we can't stop thinking about an intriguing place mentioned in our Rough Guide - Casa Perico, located in a small cove and only accessible by riverboat.  We stop in at the Sun Dog Cafe on the waterfront to ask them about arranging transport - which turns out to be free on arrival & departure - and while we're waiting, we're joined by a French traveller who is also bound for Perico.

Our river taxi arrives in due course and we whizz up the river to the lodge.  It's a winner at first glance, with a lovely large deck surrounding a bar/restaurant area, and lots of wooden walkways to the various rooms & dorms.  We are taken on a tour with our French companion, and we decide to treat ourselves to a double room in the roof space above the bar (about Q120, if we remember correctly!).  Our new friend opts for a hammock under the roof which is the cheapest option.  We'll be very glad of these choices when the heavens open while we are having dinner - except for a quick walkway dash to the communal bathroom, we can stay under cover!  And, Lisa is very excited to spot a tiny turtle swimming in the shallow water near the bathroom =)

FINALLY, we can relax with a local beverage - Guatemalan stout (!) for Lisa, and a chocolate shake for Chris (who is alcohol-free while some medication kills off evil stomach bacteria  ;-)  ).  This is certainly not a day we'd want to live over again!




Monday, October 8, 2012

On the buses...El Salvador


There are several factors to consider when trying to determine how long your bus ride will take in El Salvador. But first and foremost, you need to know that your mother would NOT approve of you taking these buses at all – they seemingly undergo no maintenance or inspections; there is a distinct lack of safety equipment; they are often dangerously overcrowded (3 or 4 people jammed into a 2-child seat, and more people crammed into the aisles); and they go haring around corners with the doors wide open. Sometimes they don't even come to a full stop as you are getting off or on.

But if you're willing to overlook these factors and travel like a Salvadorian, here are a few tips to help you determine your arrival time at destination:
  1. Speed. Most Salvadorian bus drivers have lead feet. Even around corners, through villages, and in the pouring rain. If you happen to have one of the few sedate drivers, you'll find yourself twitching with impatience that the journey is taking so much longer than normal.
  2. Frequency of stops. There is not really any such thing as an express service, as far as we can tell – if there's an inch of space available, and someone is at the stop, then the driver will screech to a halt. BUT, unlike in most central American countries, there are actually designated bus stops (NOT necessarily where the “parada de autobus” sign is – go to where the crowd of people are waiting!) so the number of possible stops is limited. Occasionally the driver goes so quickly that he never stops to let people board, and you're lucky if you manage to get him to stop to let you off (great news if you're going to the end of the route...you're going to get there SO fast!).
  3. Duration of stops. On our first bus ride in El Salvador, we were pleased that the bus departed almost immediately after we boarded – it wasn't even full yet, which is the trigger for departure time that we've come to know & love. But after travelling for about 5 minutes, we stopped at a parada....and were there for almost 30 minutes. A further 30 minutes down the road and we stopped again...this time for 20 minutes. A journey that should have taken 2 hours ended up taking about 3...but at least we had lots of time to enjoy the antics of the bus vendors*.
  4. Frequency of service. Popular routes such as the 301 between San Miguel & San Salvador will leave when the bus is full, or at worst every 15 minutes. Whereas the direct service from San Salvador to Alegria travels exactly twice a day. And remember that pretty much every service stops at dusk, so final departures (depending on distance) will be in mid- to late afternoon.

*Bus vendors will climb aboard at many of the bus stops, and attempt to sell you everything from toothbrushes to tacos. We have been grateful for these on long trips since there are no “passenger rest stops” in El Salvador, so it gives us a chance to buy a cold drink without disembarking and running the risk of being left behind. We've even been known to buy the occasional food item...although this could explain the “Salvadorian belly syndrome” we're currently experiencing....
Our nomination for “most talented” bus vendor is a fellow who was selling individually-wrapped hard candies in 3 flavours. He had a great patter and boy, could he roll those R's. We really believed that our bocas (mouths) would feel refreshed after having one of his chocolate-mint sweeties!
But the winner for “most unique product” AND sales pitch has to be “back-scratcher man”. He was certainly committed to his cause. He managed to talk about that (rather tacky) plastic back-scratcher for no less than 5 minutes straight – and then, he went down the entire bus scratching backs as a demo! Not sure if he got any sales but he did inspire a lot of giggles.

Other things to look forward to on your Salvadorian bus journey are:
  • seat hardness: from school-bus leather benches to upholstered individual seats – but you'd be amazed at which of these is often the more comfortable.
  • music: not just the driver's choice but also your fellow passengers – think our record is 4 different tunes playing simultaneously and loudly! Chris de Burgh & Brian Adams are bus driver favourites.
  • conductor noise: is he shouty? Does he whistle shrilly at every opportunity? FYI - “visa” means “wait” (an instruction for the driver, when passengers are getting on & off) and “aller” means “GO”. Watch the conductor take a running leap & swing himself on board via the back door.
  • climate: does the bus have air con? If so, is it actually on? 'cause if it's not, that bus is one hot & stuffy box with unopenable windows...
  • luggage: or better described as baskets, bundles of wood, and the occasional live chicken. If you're carrying a large backpack or similar, be prepared to spend the journey hugging it in your lap. If you're standing and trying to carry something, it's likely that a kindly seated passenger will hold onto your stuff so you can hold on to the ceiling rail with both hands! Feel free to do the same for others, it's a good way to make new Salvadorian friends.
Finally, you'll be pleased to learn that Salvadorian buses have route numbers. This is a good inspiration to bone up on your Spanish numbers, so that helpful locals can tell you which bus to catch to your destination. Many places of interest will require a couple of changes (and even where there's a direct bus, a “bus combo” might be a lot quicker – see point 4 above!) and there's no such thing as a route map or timetable, so you're going to need some advice! The numbering system also helps you to recognise your bus quickly enough to (possibly) flag it down before it flies past your stop.

So, now you're all set. Enjoy your journey, especially the sight of the beautiful countryside whipping by. Maybe manana (tomorrow) you can try one of those “people trucks” and REALLY travel like a Salvadorian...

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Another day, another border...


Our first day in Nicaragua is all about transport & negotiation. We leave Liberia on the 9:30am bus, headed for the border at Penas Blancas, but as we approach we are stuck in a long line of trucks. This line is so long and so immobile that some of the truck drivers are stretched out on hammocks slung under their trailers! But this isn't enough to dissuade our (kamikaze) bus driver – he drives on the wrong side of the road, and when it appears he might be foiled by oncoming traffic he simply drops off the edge of the road onto the grass verge. This is off-roading at it's best, and at such a slow speed that it's not heart attack-inducing...quite.

We make it safely to the border (closely shadowed by the international “Tica” bus which followed our lead down the road) and are immediately besieged by money changers, taxi drivers, and a host of others whose purpose is less clear. We have already changed our colone coins to cordobas at the bus station in Liberia (with an enterprising young man who operated next to the entrance door of all the “frontera” buses), but we decide to try our luck changing some of the paper money as well. Chris chooses his favourite money changer and waves a 10,000 colone bill at him...the guy seems to ask “how much do you want for it” so Chris asks for 400 cordobas. We've been working out rough costs in Costa Rica based on 500 colones = US$1 (also the exchange rate used by most establishments if you pay in US$, or if their price is in US$ but you pay in colones – weirdly the latter is more common); and we reckon the Nicaraguan exchange rate is about 20 cordobas to the dollar. The money changers don't try to barter so we're probably short-changing ourselves, but it's a relief to cross the border with some local currency in our pocket and we know that 400 cordobas will go a long way in Nicaragua!

Now there is nothing to do but wait in a line to enter the Costa Rican immigration office. Luckily, since our bus arrived first, we are near the front. Too bad for one of our fellow passengers who must've gone to the bathroom when we arrived, and is now stuck behind the passengers of the Tica bus and another bus! Everyone around us is filling in immigration forms that the Tica bus staff have doled out, and we wonder where to get these but reckon we'll wait until we get into the actual office. In due time (after rescuing the elderly, mothers with small children, and one particularly feisty young woman from the last stages of the line), the policeman at the door allows a few of us to file in. No sign of the immigration forms and the line is moving fast, so Lisa pops out to ask one of the ladies who crowd around arriving buses – she appears to have some blank forms in her hand. But not for us, apparently – she directs Lisa back to the policeman, who duly produces some blank forms from the large pocket on the front of his jacket (we thought he had bullet-proof padding in there!). We scribble in our details quickly, including the always tricky responses to “country of residence”; ”planned address”; and “departure/arrival country”. The latter seemed obvious to us (which country were you last in, and where do you plan to go when you leave the current country), but we were strongly corrected at the Costa Rican entry point where the responses were rewritten as “Costa Rica” for both! You can stay, but you can never leave....

Despite the horror stories about long lines and fierce questioning at this border crossing, we are sent onwards to Nicaragua with no questions and with only 15-20 minutes waiting time. It's a dusty 1km walk along the roadside to Nicaraguan immigration, and we share the walk with the feisty woman as well as a pair of Nicaraguan ladies carrying huge bags on their heads. We have to edge around a truck disinfection gate and dodge a few oncoming trucks – frankly, this border point could do with some reworking to accommodate buses and pedestrians, as it seems to be designed solely for the verrrrry slow processing of trucks!

Shortly before the immigration office the usual “helpful volunteer” (complete with official-looking immigration badge) scoops us up and insists on leading us into the border control office. At least it appears to be the right building – we remember the Thailand/Cambodia experience all too well and are on high alert at border crossings! We pay a mysterious $1 “tax” at a small window (attempts to argue about this are futile, and for $2 not really worth the energy), and then move to a new window where we pay $12 for a “tourist card” (which clearly states a value of $10 – hmm) and watch copious amounts of triplicate paperwork being completed on our behalf. Again, no questions – and on this side, no waiting – so we're soon on our way to find the bus. Fortunately for our helper there is only one door to the immigration area (must make for fun times when it's really busy, since it's not really wide enough to be both an entrance & an exit!) so it's easy to latch onto us again and try to provide some more assistance. This takes the form of trying to persuade us to take a taxi (emphatic no – they are about 5 times the price of a bus), then leading us to the gate where buses & taxis await and trying to hand us over to another “fixer”. Somewhere around here the conversation turns into a plea for a tip for his great help. Unfortunately for him, the answer is a flat no, and further pleading and whining does nothing to aid his cause. He heads off in search of a more generous traveller.

A Nicaraguan policewoman checks our paperwork at the gate & welcomes us to Nicaragua. She points us in the direction of the buses – we're pleased to see that these are brightly decorated school buses, which were conspicuously absent in Costa Rica. We wade through a swarm of eager taxi drivers (where we discover that offering $2 – the actual bus fare - for the taxi journey to San Jorge is a good way to scare them away) and try the first bus in the line, but he points us towards the second (empty) bus. We clamber aboard after confirming the fare is $1. It's a bit of a relief that all the buses we've taken today have allowed us to board with our backpacks...we didn't relish being separated from them around the border area as we hate that trick of someone grabbing your bag & insisting on becoming your (paid) porter.

Tipping for random, unrequested services
We're aware that some of the above (and undoubtedly many of our earlier posts) make us sound like cheap jerks – after all, we might not be rich but we have a lot more than most people in many of the countries we've visited, and what's a $1 here and there? But Lisa is pretty firm on tipping – basically, she'll only pay if the person has actually helped us to do something we couldn't have done on our own. Chris is much nicer (and also much more inclined to give money to homeless people in “normal” life) and quite a few of our “fixers” have picked up on this, so he's the one who tends to get asked – sometimes he says yes but not always, and at the moment he's still stinging from handing over $8 to a fixer in Puntarenas who took us to the hotel we were already on our way to (what can we say...the town was scary, and the guy was charming!). It's hard because some people are undoubtedly in genuine need, and don't have a lot of options for official employment, but also we don't appreciate being taken as cash cows simply because we're foreign. Especially now after so many months with no income (and no guarantee of finding jobs immediately in Canada) we have vowed to keep our costs to a minimum. And overall, it must be better to support charity or industry to ensure that the most needy people are the ones who are taken care of and/or that more genuine employment opportunities are created.
(Lisa has an analogy...it's rather like not feeding squirrels in the park. Lots of people do it because the squirrels are charming and have big pleading eyes. But in the end it's bad for them because they become dependent on handouts – what if there were no more visitors? It's better to support the park environment to ensure that they have a safe home with lots of natural food sources. But this proves to be hard enough to achieve in parks, so it's wishful thinking that we can extend the concept to people all over the world...)

Our bus drives around in a circle and stops again at pretty much the same place, where the driver hops off with some words about “leaving in 20 minutes”...at least, that's what we think he said! No problemo, we have a big ring of cinnamon bread that we bought in Liberia at PPK (= pan per kilo!) so we settle down on the bus to enjoy it. It's a good chance to people-watch as well, and we note a lot of similarities to Nepal – outdoor cooking on wood fires, little shacks set up as shops & restaurants, and people carrying a lot of strange packages on buses (our favourite is the guy who has at least 20 large bags of pink candy floss tied to a long pole). Slowly some other people filter aboard, occasionally accosted by roving salespeople who work the buses. There was one on our bus from Liberia who seemed to sell EVERYTHING, but the main guy here is selling some perfume/body spray, and his main marketing tactic is sticking the spray container directly under people's noses. From their reaction we don't expect him to get rich from this stuff!

Eventually the bus is about 2/3 full and we pull out towards Rivas. We make frequent pick-ups along the highway so it's not long before we're forced to put our backpacks on our laps to free up the seats next to us. At least we're both next to a window so we can enjoy the scenes of Lago Nicaragua and the small communities we pass through. We'd heard that baseball is very popular in Nicaragua and this is supported by the number of baseball diamonds we pass (as opposed to the ubiquitous soccer fields in Panama & Costa Rica). We even pass a couple of games in progress. There are also lots of wind turbines along the shore of the lake, and more being built from the looks of it. We wonder if this was controversial – does anyone think it disrupts the view of the lake and Isla Ometepe's twin volcanoes?

Lisa also spots a few crumbling mansions and notes that the layout of the land seems to reflect Nicaragua's history – i.e. there were a few rich people (Somoza's supporters) who owned grand houses & fincas, but the majority of people were effectively their slaves, living in tiny makeshift shacks around the edges of the properties. Now, the rich people are gone and the grand houses are reduced to shells, but the average person's home is still made of corrugated tin or haphazardly connected bricks, and consists of just one large room which is shared by everyone (including the chickens, the pigs & the dog). Again it reminds us of our time in Nepal, although we didn't see any ex-mansions there!

After an hour or so, we arrive at the market in Rivas. We're surprised that it's so huge...it seems like the whole town is comprised of market stalls & small shops. It's vibrant but also overwhelming – especially since the usual crowd of fixers greets our bus and tries to filter the foreigners towards their services. The one other backpacker we've spotted is herded on to a Granada-bound bus – too bad, as we were hoping that we could share a taxi with her to San Jorge (where we can catch a boat to Ometepe).

According to our guidebook it should cost about C10 to the pier (50 US cents each) but we're getting offers of $5, so we run away from the bus area in search of the parque central. We find a large and interesting-looking (but closed) church, but no park, and then realise that the best place to get a collectivo taxi is in the market center – argh. It's very sunny & hot so we're keen to be on our way, although we stop at a couple of “financerias” (your guess is as good as ours) and a bank to try & change our remaining colones. At the bank there is a security guard who won't let people enter with umbrellas, helmets or large bags – so Lisa waits outside with the backpacks and chats to a bicycle tuk-tuk driver (who offers to take us to the pier for $5, but is not too bothered when she says no – it would be a heavy load!). We soon learn that official financial institutions have no interest in colones so we change the rest in the market (money changers are everywhere, waving big sheafs of currency). We also find a collectivo who charges C15 per person so we climb in, and he plays some Christian music until we pick up another passenger ;-)

We arrive at the pier just after 2pm and try to figure out the boat schedules. There are small boats (lanchas) and ferries, but as far as we can see there is no collective schedule. An official-looking woman finally tells us that the next boat is a ferry which leaves at 2:30pm, and points us into the boleteria (ticket office). But we balk a little at the price of C70 & ask about the lanchas – the next one costs C45 but won't leave for over an hour. Chris decides that we should pay the extra so that we can arrive on the island sooner and perhaps catch the public bus to our destination, a finca on the south side of the island (far from the main towns, which are both in the north). We pay for the tickets, then for a “port tax” (C10...we wonder if these “taxes” will persist throughout our stay in Nicaragua), and finally are allowed to pass through the gate onto the pier. We see several people swimming in the lake, and even some horses taking a dip! It's neat to see how many people travel by horse or horse & cart in this area – surely more economical than a car.

The ferry is small but has enough seats for everyone, and surprisingly they're showing a movie , “Under Siege 2” – dubbed in Spanish, of course. We thought this was a short trip – you can see the island clearly from the pier! - but the movie makes us wonder if we are wrong...In the end, the journey is about 1.5 hours so we'll never know if Steven Seagal catches the bad guy!

When we arrive at the small dock in Moyogalpa, there are several fixers waiting to show us to hostels, tour companies, etc. We shun them for a while – although we grab a free island map from one woman – but soon realise that they are actually nice & helpful people. When we tell them we want to go to Finca Magdalena, they point us towards the local bus which is just about to leave (the last one of the day, lucky!). For the bargain price of C25 each, this bus proves to be a great tour of the island & a good introduction to local life. It picks up all sorts of people on their way home at the end of the day; calls at the other major town, Altagracia (which is actually tiny but has a cute park & outdoor market); and passes numerous locals travelling by foot, bicycle & horse. It's so nice that there aren't many scooters or motorcycles here, and we hope it stays that way rather than what we saw on the islands in Thailand. We are also happy to see that the road to the south of the island which is listed as “under construction” on most websites is actually almost finished – you can see the last piles of concrete road-building blocks stacked up around the town of Balgue, which is where the bus route ends and just 1km from our finca. Too bad that 1km is uphill all the way, as it's still hot at 5:30pm and we are tired & thirsty after our long day of travelling.

We are rewarded at the end of the walk though, as we reach one of the ex-grand houses which has been pieced back together by a co-op into an atmospheric hostel with a great view. We try to figure out the accommodation options which seem to be either a double ensuite room for $26 or two dorm beds for $3.50 each – of course, we opt for the latter especially when we see that it's a 3-bed dorm with no one else in it! In fact, we discover that there are only 5 other guests – a pair of German girls who are travelling with an Australian guy, and a German couple. We all meet over dinner – generous & deliciously fresh food which must have been grown by the co-op. The German couple climbed our local volcano earlier that day (and look exhausted), and the other group will climb it tomorrow – Chris thinks he might join them but Lisa is not keen. It sounds like a lot of hard work without anything particularly exciting or unusual to see!

After a round of cribbage and a splash of Costa Rican cream liqueur (Lisa's is immersed in some of the finca's delicious organic coffee), we race quickly through the (cold) shower and hop into bed. We're pleased that we've managed to rig up the mosquito net to cover both beds (we use the term loosely – they are actually folding camp cots) and thus we can avoid covering ourselves in DEET for a few hours at least! We fall asleep to the sounds of frogs, geckos and many other creatures of the night....

Monday, September 17, 2012

A whale of an anniversary

On Thursday, Chris has a morning appointment to have his crown fitted.  We've made plans to meet Alfredo, one of Lisa's old colleagues, for coffee at his office (handily in the same neighbourhood as Chris' dentist) in the afternoon, so Lisa spends the morning blogging and trying to figure out how to get to Uvita, our next destination.  Someone told us that it's whale season & Uvita is the best place to see them, so we figure it's a great way to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary (which shall henceforth be known as the whale anniversary).  Too bad that when she sets out to walk to the bus station, the heavens have decided to open - it's a very soggy 45 minute walk across the city, but at least when she gets to the right neighbourhood she meets some very helpful people who point her towards the bus stop.  This may sound like a simple task if you've never experienced the "Coca-Cola" area of San Jose, but in fact it's a bewildering array of unmarked bus stops and small bus stations; of course there are also crowds of people everywhere, and the pouring rain doesn't make it any easier to navigate.  But thanks to an elderly gent who pops out of a cafe and actually explains in great detail (but partly in Spanish) how to find the correct bus, it's no problemo  =)

It's easy to find Alfredo's building, but not his office (since it's not listed under the company name we know), but after some elaborate gesturing, a few phone calls, and a review of her passport, Lisa manages to get inside the correct door.  Chris is already there and having a nice chat with Alfredo.  We spend about an hour with him, talking about lots of different things (from his business, to earthquakes & volcanoes, to the origin of the upcoming Independence Day).  It's always so great to meet up with local friends because you get a different perspective on the place you're staying!  But he does have lots of work to do, so we bid him farewell and head next door to the mall, Multiplaza Escazu.  On the way we note how strange it is to be passing right next to the InterContinental Hotel where Lisa's ex-employers held a big conference just after she left!

Chris' sandal is on the verge of collapse and we've been struggling to find his size here (US 13 = huge)....it feels like Lisa's boot hunt in Korea all over again.  But we luck out in the mall and find a great pair of Hush Puppies, not only in his size but also on sale!  We fuel up at a tasty salad & smoothie place (Go Green = best fast food ever) after eschewing the McCafe, which resembles a fancy patisserie & has prices to match.  (As a "McDonalds of the world" aside, we also see - for the first time - dedicated McFlurry counters in front of all the McDonalds in San Jose...and even one stand-alone McFlurry kiosk.)  Then we hop on a bus to WalMart, where we are inordinately thrilled to find camping fuel that's compatible with one of our travel stoves (you might recall that we bought a new stove in Kathmandu since it was impossible to find Camping Gaz for our old stove - the new one again turns out to be the easiest to find fuel for!).  You wouldn't believe some of the non-compatible options we saw in Panama and Costa Rica....safety regulations must be REALLY different here!

Next, we are headed back downtown.  It's a bit of a challenge to board the buses into town now that we are one stop past the shopping mall - they are all so full they won't even let us try to squeeze on!  A school bus which says "Service Especiales" pulls up and emits a few dozen people, and we notice that most of the other passengers at the stop are hovering near it.  One fellow confirms that this bus is going to downtown San Jose, so we climb aboard and jostle with others standing in the aisle, shopping bags & various other items.  We end up rather west of downtown so we get the dubious pleasure of walking through what definitely looks like a red light district, but it's still daylight and there are plenty of people around so it doesn't feel too scary.

We're on our way to meet Anna, a new Couchsurfing friend.  Lisa wrote to her after spotting her request for people to travel with on weekends.  She is interested in going to Poas so we promised to give her a full report when we got back.  We end up in a moody & cool-looking bar (which has a secret room in the back that is filling up with musicians while we are chatting) and have a long talk about lots of things travel-related.  Her background is really interesting - she's Nicaraguan but was adopted by a German couple when she was a baby, so she's in central America trying to improve her Spanish and learn more about her roots.  Her boyfriend was coming to Costa Rica to study for 6 months so it worked out perfectly.  And now she can hopefully learn from our visit to Poas, so she can plan her trip to ensure that she gets some good weather!

Eventually we all agree that it's time to go home.  We can walk from here so we say goodbye to Anna and head across the road to grab a bite at a bakery.  We get an assortment of pastries; some for dinner (nicely heated in the microwave) and some for tomorrow's breakfast.  Lisa has an early start to Uvita and Chris has an 8am dental appointment (because his new crown didn't fit properly!!) so we want to be prepared!  On the walk back to the hostel, we enjoy the view of San Jose's nightly lightning storm.  In fact, during this season there seems to be a country-wide lightning storm every night - but fortunately for us, not too much rain so far.

After a brief night's sleep, we crawl out of bed at 4:30am to make the trip to the bus station.  Unusually, we get a taxi - we've read a few bad things about the neighbourhood near this bus station and it's still quite dark, so we don't want to ask for trouble.  It turns out that the station is a bit isolated but we don't see much to worry about, so after Chris sees Lisa safely on the bus he heads out on foot towards the Coca-Cola area (armed with Lisa's advice about finding the bus to Escazu).

Lisa has taken the "collectivo" bus which stops at every little village along the way.  This might sound dull but she really enjoys it - in particular, the first 2 hours of the trip when we are winding through the mountains are really picturesque, as is the village of San Mateo.  After that we follow the Pacific coastline with alternating views of palm tree plantations, swamps, farms, and sweeping ocean panoramas.  We also encounter 2 separate groups of torch-bearers (it's an Independence Day thing!), including a school group which is stretched out in pairs along the highway.  Each group has a police, ambulance & school bus accompaniment.

It takes about 6 hours for the journey but she still arrives in plenty of time to arrange their beds for the night (hammocks in a tree house!!) have some lunch with a new friend (Marie from Rochester, NY), and book the whale watching tour for the next day.  There is actually a Whales & Dolphins Festival in Uvita this weekend, so there are short (1.5 hour) tours available for just 16,000 colones (about US$32), compared to the usual half-day tour for US$60 or more - great news for budget travellers!  It also means that there's a cute village "fairground" set up where we can do some people-watching and enjoy a cheeky beer  ;-)  On our way back we encounter some drummers and a few families heading to local Independence Day festivities (which apparently involve quite a bit of fire - the earlier torches were a good clue).

Meanwhile, Chris has caught a 2pm "fast" bus and it gets him into town just before 6pm.  These "fast" buses were pretty hard to figure out - every resource in Costa Rica has a different bus schedule, and many people swore that there were only 2 buses to Uvita (the collectivos at 6am and 3pm), whereas others said that some additional buses stop there but kept giving us different times for these.  Even in the bus station there was different information available from each ticket window, and the final bus times conflicted with the posted schedules in the station.  But at least it all worked out in the end, and we've taken the hint that we shouldn't believe in schedules we see anywhere here!

Independence Day, Uvita style
We have dinner at the local soda with Marie, and then an early night (we were all up before dawn so we just can't manage a night dancing to the sounds of festival bands "Caca de la Vaca" and Radical Hell).  Lisa has great dreams in the hammock and we all wake up refreshed & ready for our whale viewing!  We even get a chance to watch the Independence Day parade from our tree house - it seems to involve everyone in this small town (including a small dog wrapped in a Costa Rican flag).  Before heading to the beach again, we visit the local farmers market, where we buy tamales & a huge, weighty Spanish omelette wrapped in banana leaves.  We grab a taxi to the beach (yesterday, we learned that it's more than 30 minutes walk), pay our $6 "non-nationals" entrance fee to the national park (Marino Ballena), and stroll along the chocolate-coloured sand eating our breakfast.  The beach is particularly beautiful, and although there are quite a few people around, Marie says it's a lot less busy than it's more famous cousin Manuel Antonio.  As we walk we scoop up some shells for Marie's collection, and try to find a complete sand dollar for Chris (he's never heard of sand dollars before today!).  On our way back, the tide is coming in and flooding the many crab and ant holes we saw along the way.
















By the time we've attended our "orientation talk" about the tour and walked back to the beach, the tide has advanced immensely.  A large river which was flowing into the sea when we first arrived has now been completely swallowed by ocean...and as we wait for our boat to arrive, we have to keep backing up further & further to avoid the incoming waves.  It's a long wait (see above - Costa Rica & schedules do NOT go together) but our noon tour finally sets out about 12:45.  We hold on tightly as instructed and bounce over the waves, heading for an area where several boats are bobbing in a wide circle.  Not surprisingly (but still very impressive!) there is a large whale in the center of the circle, bobbing gently near the surface.  We soon realise that we are looking at a mom & baby - our guide informs us that the baby is small (it's not, but we suppose by whale standards...) and about 2 weeks old.  Apparently the babies drink more than 200 litres of milk every day!!  We also learn lots of other whale facts, such as:
  • The mother's milk is 35% fat, compared to 2% in humans
  • The gestation period is 12-15 months.  After this, the baby stays with the mother for at least 1 year, during which time she can't get pregnant.  Therefore, these "birthing grounds" see the mother whales in 3-year cycles.
  • Whales only flip their tails up in the oft-depicted manner when they are diving to deeper waters.  Their tails are unique (like fingerprints) and are used by scientists around the world to understand the travel patterns of individual whales.
  • Moms & babies live in shallow waters until the little ones have time to develop their lung capacity for deep dives.  They also need the warmth that comes with the shallower areas.
Whale ahoy!
The climax of our tour is when the baby whale swims straight towards our boat.  We cut the engine and everyone goes silent (although we can hear envious murmurs from our neighbouring boats).  Mom gets a little worried and swims between the calf and us, passing right in front of our boat - we can see the white flesh on her head & throat as she swims past.  It's so cool!  After that we're happy to head back and give some others a chance.  Overall, it's a great experience and we're glad we had a chance to see these peaceful, zen creatures...although we do wish there was a way to do it without motorised boats, because it's not great to think of all the pollution we're generating.

Marie heads off on her own in search of lunch (we're still full from our tortilla!) and we walk back to town.  We pick up a couple of batidos (smoothies) and some groceries for dinner, including the elusive Costa Rican beer "Bavaria Dark".  Then we try to track down the Streets family for a Skype chat, but we're rather late after the tour delay so they're all in bed!

When Marie gets back, we all decide to head to the local waterfall to cool off.  It's only about 15 minutes walk from our hotel, and has a couple of pools where we can finally escape the heat.  We opt for the smaller pool which is just right for 3 people (and one keen Labrador who has adopted us!), and also doesn't require entry by rope swing  ;-)  It's well worth the 500 colones (US$1) entry fee, especially since the water at the beach was weirdly hot, so not very refreshing.

We stroll back down the hill to the hotel, stopping to admire a beautiful sunset and to make several futile attempts to shake off the dog.  He finally leaves us when we reach the hotel gate, but we'll see him again tomorrow....

We share dinner (homemade soft tacos) & our newly-acquired Cafe Rica liqueur (from Poas) with Marie, who contributes some pastries for dessert.  Lisa teaches her how to play our favourite travel game, Honeymoon Whist, while around us the hotel closes down for the night.  It's pretty strange that they switch off all the lights in the central courtyard at 10pm, even on a Saturday night, but as Chris points out this is good news for the guests who are all either in a room fronting onto this area, or in a hammock in the center of the courtyard!  We're given strict instructions not to latch the outer gate on our way to the tree house since the owner and several guests are at a party that we can hear nearby.  FYI, the ladder for the tree house is outside the gate, which made us a bit nervous at first (especially after many warnings not to bring ANYTHING out with us when we went to bed)....but actually all trappings of security in the hotel are just for show, such as the entrance gates which are "locked" at night with the type of clasp you use for a dog leash!  Anyways, the town feels pretty safe to us and we can safely lock our valuables inside the owner's house at night.  Our backpacks are locked in the kitchen.  This added security is good for peace of mind, but not good if you want to get an early start; the reception doesn't open until 7am and the owner, Tra (pronounced "tray") - a seriously laid-back Memphis native - gets up when he feels like it  ;-)

Our pet in Uvita
Chris awakes the next morning to the sound of a family picnicking under the tree house.  Soon after, Lisa is woken up by the crowing of an enthusiastic rooster (also under our house!).  There is a lot of birdsong in the early morning and this is a great way to wake up.   We grab some breakfast from the hotel and set out to the bus stop - we've decided that it's time to hit the road northwards towards Nicaragua.  We're not very confident in the posted bus schedules, since no two are the same, so we just go to the stop when we're finished breakfast - it's shady there and a great place to people-watch, so we don't mind that the next bus doesn't seem to be expected for at least 1.5 hours.  We get lots of honks, waves and headlight flashes from the passing highway traffic (especially when Lisa is alone at the stop for a few minutes while Chris runs an errand), and our Labrador plus another canine friend keep us company while we wait.  In the end, the alleged 11am bus pulls up around noon!  Just in time, because it's starting to rain and two passengers awaiting the bus have a LOT of stuff which we're sure is better off dry (one woman & child look like they're actually moving house by bus?!).

It's a beautiful ride to Quepos along the Pacific coast, and Chris gets the pleasure of travelling through Dominical, a cute surfing town which Lisa passed through on her way to Uvita.  Actually, for some reason the buses pull in, drive along the town's one road until they reach the beach (= end of the road!), then turn around and come back the same way.  The town is tiny and the road is awful, so it's a mystery why they don't just pick up passengers at or near the highway!

We want to continue north from Quepos but the next bus (to Puntarenas) isn't for about an hour, so we head into the rather over-developed town in search of food and wi-fi.  Even in this tourist trap, almost everything is closed on a Sunday at 2pm which gives it a rather desolate feeling.  A chap named Danny who works for one of the hostels in nearby Manuel Antonio adopts us and leads us to the Best Western, but we think the menu's a bit overpriced (and Lisa has spotted a seafood place - she's been dying to have some ceviche for the past couple of days, but it's hard to find a restaurant that actually has some in stock - it seems to only be available on Saturdays??).  Turns out that the seafood place is chock-a-block since it's showing the football game, so we drift into "Wacky Wanda's" next door - also showing the football, but with a smaller (very friendly!) crowd, a compellingly dark & shady interior, and some cooling fans.  It's only after we order that we realise there's no wi-fi.... oh well!  There's also no ceviche, nor any shrimp (for shrimp & rice), so we end up with a chef's salad & some chicken fingers...but actually it's all pretty tasty!

Back to the bus station, where our friend Danny waves us over to the Puntarenas bus.  He tells us that we might make the connection to the final bus to Liberia which leaves Puntarenas at 6pm - but it's 3pm now and at least a 2.5 hour journey, so we won't count on it.  In fact, we get stuck in a traffic jam (caused by a badly-designed merge on to the Interamericana highway - lots of people are travelling home to San Jose after Independence Day celebrations) so we don't get to Puntarenas until about 6:15. We discover that the last bus to Liberia was actually at 5pm so we're definitely here for the night.  At least we get to enjoy the sunset (out the bus window) over the Pacific, with the hills of the Nicoya Peninsula silhouetted in the foreground.

Puntarenas is one of the weirder towns we've visited on this trip - built on a long sand spit, it's only about 5 blocks wide through the "downtown" area and has a feeling of being well past it's prime.  We're used to seaside towns feeling a bit shabby but this place takes the cake, and it's probably exacerbated by the fact that it's a Sunday night.   The first hotel we check (Sol y Arena) has cardboard walls that don't even pretend to reach the ceiling, and ensuite shower/toilets that appear to have been built into dark closets.  It feels very overpriced at $20 for a double!  On our way out, we meet another traveller (Gilad from Israel) who is being shadowed by a "helpful" (and rather hyper) local guy who insists he will help us all find a room...at his family's hotel, for $40.  He is soon shooed away by another local, wearing a resort T-shirt (which he uses to "prove" his legitimacy...he also claims that our previous helper is NOT a local, and that the hotel we're looking for was flattened by a hurricane last week...hmm).  At least the 2nd fellow actually does take us to the requested hotel eventually (as you can imagine, this requires some fast story creation on his part to undo his earlier claim....umm, there are two hotels with the same name and the other one was flattened, but this one is OK!), and we find a barely acceptable room there for $26.  Gilad also chooses to stay and we are all introduced to the receptionist, a friendly fellow called Freddy who doesn't seem to speak a word of English - or is this another con?  In this town, who can tell.

After dumping our backpacks in the room and locking our windows & doors (the word "secure" has been used to describe the hotel not less than 10 times, so we're feeling paranoid), we head out on the town in search of food and perhaps some sign of life.  We find half a dozen Chinese restaurants, a pizza place, and an exceptionally loud but tiny kitten (ah, so hard not to adopt him!).  Eventually we stumble across a pescadoria (fish place) which has the long-coveted ceviche, plus affordable pina coladas and a huge serving of squid tentacles (with rice & beans of course) for Chris.  We try to watch "The Mexican" on the restaurant's TV, but it's dubbed in Spanish and halfway through, so we don't stand much of a chance.  It's more amusing to watch the small daughter of one of the customers winding her way around the tables charming people.

We haul our over-stuffed selves back through town & along the way we notice that EVERYONE is watching The Mexican.  Along the way, we rescue an Israeli couple who are emerging from Sol y Arena hotel with a horrified look on their faces & deliver them to our hotel.  There is absolutely nothing happening unless we want to join in the local karaoke (if there was a competition, we would win - they are pretty dire) so we retire to our room to rub our bellies and watch "Resident Evil - Extinction" on TV.  We've seen it before and the dialogue is hardly important, so in this case the Spanish dubbing is easily overlooked.  This is good news for our neighbours since we can turn the volume right down so as not to carry through the paper-thin walls & open mesh windows!

We're up early the next day and keen to get out of this place, so we walk to the bus stop to check the times.  Unfortunately we have probably just missed the 7am bus to Liberia, which means 1.5 hours wait until the next one, but at least that's plenty of time to find breakfast & maybe some wi-fi, which seems to be very elusive in this town!  (and in case you're wondering, we're not totally addicted to the internet- we're trying to send an email to a friend so we can arrange to meet up with her over the next couple of days!)

No luck with the wi-fi, but after some advice from locals we locate all the options for breakfast and decide on Soda Janet.   We have some OK desayuno (the usual gallo pinto with a couple of eggs & some bread) accompanied by carrot juice, a nice change.  As we're finishing up, we notice Gilad walking past with his luggage.  We know that he came to Puntarenas to catch a ferry to the Nicoya Peninsula - reputedly a very beautiful & remote area - but they have all been cancelled for a week or longer due to pier damage from the recent earthquake, so now he's trying to figure out how to get there by bus.  Kudos for his tenacity but we think we'd take this as a sign that we ought to do something else  ;-)

We wait at the bus stop with a small crowd of locals, although a fellow we met earlier tries to convince us to take a taxi to somewhere else where there is a "better" bus service.  Luckily the bus arrives only 20 minutes late and we clamber aboard.  We're pleased to see that the luggage compartment under the bus is actually locked by the driver so we don't need to check out the window at every stop - good news, because we stop pretty much everywhere on the way to Liberia!

Again, it's a beautiful drive, although a bit stormy today.  We enter Guanacaste (the northernmost region) which is reputed to be particularly gorgeous.  It's hilly and full of ranchos (ranches) - Lisa even spots a cowboy rounding up some of the region's wattle-y cattle!  We finally reach the outskirts of Liberia, where we are greeted by a shiny new (and strangely isolated) shopping mall; a few streets later we are at the bus station, which has several sodas/cafes, a MusAnni bakery (we see these everywhere in Costa Rica), and some nicely printed large schedules for the buses to the border - just what we need! Like Puntarenas, there are a lot more buses than can be explained by the 2 or 3 schedules which are posted - we guess that if you are going to a more local or less popular destination, you'd just have to ask around to find the correct bus & it's timings.

We finally find some wi-fi at a cute cafe, and get a chance to email our friend Rosa while enjoying some madures (a mystery - luckily for us it's some delicious plantain, and we later discover that it translates as "maturity"!) and french toast.  We are too lazy to move on today, so we check into Hotel Liberia (just $20 for a tiny room with one set of bunkbeds - there is even hot water for the shower, bonus!) and spend our afternoon in search of a raincoat to replace the one which Lisa left on the bus to Uvita!  We have tried this before in San Jose (while she still had the old raincoat...but frankly, it didn't work very well after coming into contact with some DEET!) but it seems that Costa Ricans don't wear raincoats....or coats of any description, for that matter.  Luckily Liberia seems to have a very unique shopping culture - all the stores resemble secondhand shops, with piles of one-of-a-kind clothing, and in one "American shop" we clamber over some bags of excess clothes to find a selection of large raincoats.  Lisa selects one which is not too thick & plasticky, and looks large enough to fit over her daypack which is the main reason for owning a raincoat here at all!  She even manages to negotiate a 1000 colones "descuento" since one sleeve has a stain on it (the coat being almost white, this stain will have a few friends before long!).

Central America's idea of
an electric hot shower
We enjoy a delicious meal at a soda run by a women's co-operative (complete with the requisite cute kid running from table to table).  Lisa is secretly pleased that her chicken tortilla platter is served without the ever-present rice & beans, but ashamed that she is so spoilt by her usual dining options that she can get bored of something so quickly!  We grab some beers and chill out on the hotel's wide veranda - Lisa is blogging as usual (and posting travel tips on the Lonely Planet forum!), and Chris is catching up on his reading.  Of course, there is a lightning storm to enjoy, and also the comedy of the hotel's intermittent electricity (which goes off while Lisa is in the shower- she thinks the vaunted hot shower is to blame, see photo....)

Tomorrow we're heading for Nicaragua, with an amibitious plan to reach Isla Ometepe.  This border crossing is legendary so it ought to be an interesting day!

(p.s. from Lisa:  I have to share the chat-up line I got from a teenager in Uvita...made me wonder where he's learning his English from!  "Hey cutie, I want to meet you later!"  He actually shouted this (slowly) from across the street while taking part in the independence day torch ceremony hee hee!)

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Ticos and toucans


We are literally running over the decrepit old railway bridge that acts as the Panama/Costa Rican border at Sixaola...a bit scary due to missing planks and rusty metal, and also a bit of a waste of a beautiful sunset view.  When we arrive at the Costa Rican end we are greeted by two policemen who keep telling us that Costa Rica is already closed for the night.  When we ask what we're supposed to do, they shrug and point down towards the town, saying "manana, manana".  This sentiment is echoed by a security guard and a customs worker who are positioned next to the (closed) immigration window.  Weirdly, there is nothing to stop us from entering the country and continuing on our merry way....except the knowledge that the missing passport stamp would surely cause us problems in the future.

We walk along the dusty street (yep, only one) of Sixaola, admiring the border-themed murals that decorate the raised truck bypass.  To our right we spot a "cabinas" sign and make a beeline for it.  Our instincts are confirmed by a teenage boy on a bicycle who offers to "take us to the cabinas"...like we couldn't find them for ourselves in this teensy town, but it's nice of him to offer.  Weirdly he does hang around outside for ages on his bike, but we're sure it's just because he'd like to give us a tour....?  The owner of the cabinas is a tiny and super-friendly lady who supplies us with towels, soap & a key for our room, which is pretty much an Australian-style donger but on the second storey of the building.  At least they're not taking advantage of stuck travellers by overcharging (too much) - it's just $20 for the night.

We eat at a small upstairs restaurant - the only place in town which has a wider menu than fried chicken & empanadas - where we are treated to a Nicholas Cage film subtitled into Spanish, called ' Season of the Witch'. The manager brings us a free taster (bocadilla) of a tiny but tasty chicken and bean stew “for courtesy” and we follow this with a casado (literally "marriage" - it's rice & beans!)  for our main meal.  As we are leaving, we are bid a hearty farewell by a friendly fellow at the bar called Alan or Alex (hard to tell with the drunken slur  ;-) ), who repeatedly shakes our hands and high fives us.  Chris sleeps with one eye open - we've heard too many bad things about border towns - but actually all of our experience here is positive.  People are pleased to see someone different in their small town, we think  ;-)

We are up early the next morning so we can be amongst the first to "cross" the border when it opens at 7am.  Easy enough, since the clock went back one hour when we reached Costa Rica, and in this heat it's rare for us to sleep later than 7:30am.  But when we go to the immigration window, the official looks at Lisa's passport for a while, then puts it aside while he stamps the passport of a "more local" woman.  When he's finally ready to deal with us, he indicates our Panama stamp (which of course is for yesterday).  This isn't good enough - we're not allowed to have a day in limbo! - so he tells us to go back to Panama and get a stamp for today.

We pick our way back across the bridge, a bit stressed about the reaction we're likely to get from the Panamanian side.  But the official there couldn't be nicer - he all but rolls his eyes at the fussiness of the "other side" and adds a new stamp for today.  Back across we go, and it's all good this time around - we've officially entered Costa Rica!

We go back to our favourite restaurant for desayuno (breakfast) which consists of scrambled eggs, bacon, beans & toast.  Even though we order different items, they actually seem to be the same things arranged differently on the plate.  But it's all fresh & tasty, and comes with some free travel advice from our host (basically, visit Montezuma!).  He even lets us choose the music; Spanish rock, which includes some people we recognise such as Shakira and Jon Secada, but also lots of unfamiliar tunes.

Finally we're free to hop on the bus to our next stop, the surf town of Puerto Viejo, on Costa Rica's Caribbean coast.  Sixaola even has a bus station with easy-to-read schedules, something we'll find out is a rare treat in Costa Rica!

 The bus ride passes uneventfully, although a bit bumpily over the unpaved road of the last stretch.   We have already decided to check out some hostels with hammocks for rent, just outside of town, so we strike out on foot after the bus drops us off in the town center.  It's really more of a village so it doesn't take us long to reach our first option, Crocodile Surf Camp, and the hammocks look great (especially for $6 each!) so we throw our bags in the provided lockers, update our whereabouts on Facebook (always good to reassure our mothers), and head out again to find some bikes to rent.  This is the main mode of transport in the area so it doesn't take long - we nab a couple of terribly rickety bikes from the hotel across the road.  The lack of handbrakes freaks us out for a minute, but Lisa figures out that you can apply the brakes by pedalling in reverse...takes some getting used to, and we wouldn't want to try it at high speeds, but the roads around here are super-flat so we reckon we'll be OK!  Although the seat on Lisa's bike breaks almost immediately....hmm.

We cycle eastwards through a few tiny, yoga-centric communities, and stop on one of the many beaches (Playa Uva) for a picnic lunch.  It's very quiet, especially since the beach stretches around a wide bay so there's lots of room for everyone.  There is a group in front of us keeping cool in the shallow water with beers in hand, and a few surfers at the far end of the beach.  It's an interesting landscape with jungle growing right up to the water's edge in some places.

On our way back we keep an eye out for the homemade ice cream cafe which Lisa spotted on the way down & the "Jaguar Rehabilitation Center" which we'd like to visit tomorrow.  No luck with either of these, and the latter is a bit worrying because we've been told it's 30 minutes walk (guidebook); 2 km away (hotel where we rented our bikes); "way too far to walk" (random stranger).  They only have 2 tours per day so we need to figure out how we can get there tomorrow morning.  We notice that the (closed) tour agency across from the surf camp has information about them, and it will open tomorrow at 8am, so we vow to investigate further tomorrow morning.

We return the bikes with some relief and head into town in search of dinner.  Some live Caribbean-style music attracts us to a cute beachside bar, called the Lazy Mon, with a great happy hour.  We order some amazing cocktails and settle down next to the beach to enjoy the tunes.  It's a real family affair, with the wives or girlfriends of the musicians dropping by to "guest sing" a few of the songs, and their kids running around the bar or napping in hammocks.

For dinner, we choose a small restaurant across the road.  It's not bad but not particularly memorable, although we get a kick out of watching some very competitive domino games taking place next door.

Finally it's time to bed down in our hammocks.  We don't know how many mosquitoes are out there, and we seem to be the only guests so they'll all be headed for us!  Chris drapes the mosquito net over his hammock, and Lisa suits up in her mosquito-net jacket and silk sleep sheet.  We fall asleep listening to the sound of the sea...

The next day we're up fairly early, and find out from the tour agency that the rehab center is definitely NOT within walking distance - it's nearly as far as we cycled yesterday.  So we decide to fuel up at the neighbouring bakery before we set out for the 11:30am tour.  We order a huge pastry (Chris) and toast with many pots of toppings (Lisa), plus some delicious coffee...but for some reason Chris is really hungry and has to order a big wedge of banana bread too - giving Lisa a chance to polish off her pot of cream cheese  =)

We rent some bikes from a souvenir shop, who actually have a selection.  It's only $4 until 5:30pm which is just $1 more than we paid yesterday, and these are much better bikes (although stilll with the weird brakes!).  It's already 11 so we zip off down the road, hoping that we can find the rehab center today!  It turns out to be really obvious, but the signs are mobile and they must take them down each day when the tours are finished - this will keep things peaceful for the volunteers & animals in the afternoon, when they take the monkeys out to play in the trees & let the wild cats wander around the grounds.

We've travelled much quicker than yesterday (although Chris doesn't love this bike any more than the last one, unfortunately) and have lots of time to check out the many snakes they have in terrariums around the entrance lobby.  There are also several preserved animals and skeletons, and a few spiders including a tarantula.  For those of you who know Lisa, you'll understand that she is in her element here, remembering the good old days working in Canada's provincial parks  =)

Finally it's time for the tour & we break up into 3 groups - one Spanish and 2 English.  There's about 10 people in our group so it's easy for everyone to see & hear what's going on.  We learn lots about frog spawning (and get a photo op on Costa Rica's most famous resident, the red-eyed tree frog); meet a brown booby (a bird!), a broken-hearted owl, and a super-friendly deer; check out two different types of toucans (did you know there are different types?  we didn't!); meet a brain-damaged ocelot, Brigit; see a tree full of baby yellow pit vipers & a huge cat-eating python; and watch the volunteers cuddle some sloths.  The ultimate moment is when we get to go in the monkey enclosure to meet the baby monkeys.  Lisa is worried that they might inadvertently scratch the "jungle blisters" she acquired in Panama, so she volunteers to stay outside and take some photos.  All in all, it's an absolutely amazing tour and a great chance to meet some of the animals which Costa Rica is famous for.  And it's nice to know that every penny of the $15 tour price goes towards getting these animals back out into the wild, or into a suitable permanent situation (in case they can't survive in the wild for some reason, ie. the poor ocelot who is nearly blind, can't smell, and has epilepsy  =(  ).  It's sad to hear how many of them were rescued from homes who had acquired them as pets when they were babies, only to mistreat or abandon them when they turned out not to be the best idea for a pet.  Reminds us of the periodic stories of people with alligators in their bathtubs...












On the way back to town we also find the homemade ice cream place, the "Jungle Love Cafe".  We share a huge plate of nachos (with homemade hot! sauce) and some coffee ice cream.  It's delicious and the staff are really nice & friendly, plus the setting (on a shady porch) is ideal for a hot day.

We have lost track of time and realise that we need to hightail it back to the surf camp to collect our packs if we want to get to San Jose tonight as planned.  In the end (and after some debate!) we actually cycle the last couple of kilometers with our backpacks aboard, since there's no other way to make it to the bus station in time!  It's actually not as hard to balance with a large backpack on your bike as we thought it might be...

Thanks to our adventurous cycling we now have about 15 minutes leeway to catch the bus, so we don't have to run to the station in the heat.  We make it with at least 5 minutes to spare and Chris is worried about our lack of cash so he dumps his bag and dashes off to the ATM.  He even manages to pop next door to the supermarket & pick up some salsa, so that we can make dinner when we arrive at our hostel tonight - although Lisa is quite worried when she has to peer behind the waiting bus to see if he's running up the road to catch it!  In the end the driver seems to be in no hurry, since he insists that we visit the (hidden) boleteria (ticket office) before we can board.  Finally we are underway, and we can relax and enjoy the views of the seaside rolling by as we pass through Cahuita & Limon before crossing the mountains to the capital.

When we arrive at the "Terminal del Caribe" in San Jose, our bus is rushed by dozens of taxi drivers.  One adopts Chris and follows us around loyally, helping to shift our backpacks from the bus to his waiting cab.  He's a nice guy and tries to make small talk with us, despite his limited English and our nearly non-existent Spanish.  Unfortunately he also manages to charge us about 7000 colones ($14) for our journey, which we're sure is well above the going rate.

Even more unfortunately, the hostel that Chris so patiently researched and booked the night before has overbooked, and has only one bed available.  Apparently they emailed us earlier that day to let us know, but we can't understand why they felt safe to assume we'd see that email!  The guy who's working the evening shift is nice but ineffective, and pretty much leaves it up to us to find alternative accommodation.  After a phone call confirms that another of our preferred hostels is also full (except for expensive private rooms), we decide to spring for a nearby hotel (only $40, but a big leap from the $16 we expected to pay for the hostel dorms).  It's a pity, because the hostel is in a great old colonial building across from a park and looks beautiful - but we are just happy to have a place to sleep (and we get a chance to watch some bad films - including Attack the Block! - on the in-room TV).  The ensuite bathroom with hot(!) shower is another bonus, and Lisa actually manages to take 2 showers in the short time that we're there.

The next morning, our priority is to find some cheaper beds.  Lisa goes through the listings in the Rough Guide, and a couple of others that we spotted online the night before, and plots them all on the city map.  Most of the hostels here don't seem to have an online availability calendar - and if they do, it's unreliable! - so we decide that it's easiest to just show up and enquire.  This inspires us to start with the nearest one...just across the road!  They have a private double room, but it's $34 and they have no kitchen or laundry facilities so it's just going to work out to be too expensive.  Too bad, because the guy that runs the place seems really nice!

Our next stop is Costa Rica Backpackers, located just past the Supreme Court building.  It's eerie walking through the city on a Sunday morning - absolutely everyone must be at church, and we are reminded of a long-ago trip to Londonderry in Northern Ireland (without the marching!).  This hostel has some beds - in fact, it's a huge sprawling place which must be less than half full so we can take our pick.  The guy at the front desk knows his sales tactics and leads us past the swimming pool & hammocks to a cute double room...we're sold, especially when he gives us a discount ($32 reduced to $28 per night) AND a free night for booking 3 nights (which don't need to be consecutive).  We know that we'll be around for a few days while Chris gets his dental crown done, so this is perfect.

CR Backpackers - much better inside!
We leave 4.5 kgs of laundry (tropically damp and musty) with the front desk and set out in search of desayunos.  Almost everything is closed but we eventually find a bakery, and buy a little bit of everything with some coffee to wash it down.  We sit outside and watch the local characters (and a cute "Tico Train", like the kind you'd see at a theme park) meander past.  We notice that most of our neighbouring buildings are lawyers and the like, and also spot a few "sodas" (cheap local cafes) which we can hit for lunch during the week.  But there is not much to see today, so we head back to the hostel and spend the rest of the afternoon researching our options for day trips (Lisa), having a nap (Chris), meeting some new friends (both), enjoying happy hour (both), and hanging out in the attached bar/restaurant enjoying some rock music (everyone!).  In particular, we find out that a group of clowns are staying at the hostel, on a week-long "Humanitarian Clown Trip".  Good thing we found out in advance, or Chris surely would've been pinching himself when he shared breakfast with 25 clowns the next morning!  The three amateur clowns that we meet on the first night are really nice, although a little nervous about the week ahead.  It'll be interesting to hear their stories, and maybe we'll manage to tag along one day....

On Monday, Chris is up early to go to the dentist.  Lisa leaves soon after him (after a quick chat over some free coffee, with a small group bound for Nicaragua - one of the girls is an Australian who's about to move to Calgary!) to visit the Jade Museum.  On the way, she stops at a small soda/cafe for something to eat.  It's such a simple place that there is no menu - the waiter simply asks "desayunos?"  Lisa replies "si!" and the waiter asks if she wants her eggs scrambled or fried, and if she'd like coffee or orange juice....then she sits back to see what desayunos actually arrives!  Luckily it's a delicious plate of rice & beans (of course), made with some peppers & onions, and a large blob of something that's between mayonnaise & sour cream (it's called "natilla" in Spanish).  There are two hunks of bread and a pile of scrambled eggs, and the orange juice tastes fresh and delicious.  Altogether it costs 990 colones (less than $2)!!

jade tooth inserts?!
Suitably fuelled up, Lisa heads across the road to the Jade Museum.  There is a handy (free!) locker area for her backpack, and although the US$ 9 entrance fee is steep she's not going to regret coming here.  There is an amazing amount of jade, gold, stone & other artifacts; a great bilingual display about pre-Columbian Costa Rica & central America; some neat stories like the ancient fertility rituals (involving a lot of boob-grabbing women) and warrior habits (put the enemy's head on a stick & carry it around.. then make a carving to commemorate the event!); and an incredibly detailed scale model of a typical ancient village, right down to the mushrooms growing in the forest.  She easily spends 3 hours here and takes tons of pictures (see our Costa Rica album for more!).  She makes it back to the hostel just in time to meet Chris, admire his temporary crown, and seek out a local soda for a (soft) lunch.  The latter is a funny little place - the only other customers are some tea-drinking road workers, and the owner makes a big fuss over us.  Chris tries to order a hamburguesa (which is on the menu) but she looks at him like he's made that up...he somehow ends up with a HUGE plate of fajita, rice, beans, salad and fries.

We then search around for some bits for dinner and find a rather cute greengrocer's. It's owned by an older lady who has pictures of herself with her husband in various locations around the world, more often than not with a football stadium in the background. She was very nice and sold us a vegetable we had never seen before but that we had decided to try. Upon returning to the hostel we asked around and were told by the guy on reception that it was a 'chayote' and that we should boil it. It turned out to be quite nice, tasting a bit like a cross between a squash and a potato.












Now, we've heard a lot of people say that San Jose is boring & even ugly (our Rough Guide is pretty disparaging in it's description of the city as well).  But we'd like to dispute this!  The city has a beautiful setting, in a wide valley surrounded by volcanoes & mountains.  At this time of year (wet season) it's often hazy, but we haven't had that much actual rain.  Every night we've had amazing lightning storms though!  The city center has at least 3 pedestrianised streets with quite different characters, and there are loads of parks & squares to relax in.  And the street art rivals what we saw in San Francisco!  We're quite happy to be here for a few days, just wandering around and soaking up the atmosphere.





However, there are lots of things to see & do in the surrounding area as well, so on Tuesday morning we check out of the hostel for a couple of days (leaving most of our stuff in the storage room) and head to the "Tuasa" bus station.  For those of you who haven't yet had the pleasure of coming to Costa Rica, there are several bus stations even in smaller towns...we actually don't know how many there are in San Jose, but at least in this case the one we need is just a few blocks away.

We find it without much difficulty (despite the complete lack of street signs in this part of the world!) and wander in, looking for the bus to Poas Volcano.  Luckily there is a short & sweet man whose sole task seems to be to scoop up tourists and ensure they wait in the right place for the bus, which only runs once a day at 8:30am.  We duly join the small throng as instructed, but sneak off to the side a few minutes later to have a coffee at the station's soda...it's the perfect accompaniment to the pina (pineapple) empanadas and tasty muffins we bought yesterday with breakfast in mind!  Our empanada-eating attracts the attention of a local man who's also waiting for the volcano bus, and he (Victor) strikes up a conversation.  He tells us that he travels around the country selling womenswear such as socks and (in an embarassed aside to Chris) brassieres.  Today's pitch is the area around Poas, and he's got a large duffel bag at his side.  Lisa takes a moment to reminisce about her days in the direct sales biz in Toronto....

The bus arrives on time but doesn't actually set out until 8:45.  Victor is the only one who minds - almost everyone else is a tourist, and the one other person who isn't is not in a hurry either.  In fact, we still arrive at our next stop (Alajuela) 5 minutes early.  The journey is pretty comfortable and once we leave Alajuela, the scenery starts to improve...we pass loads of forest, cow fields and fincas (coffee plantations), as well as several signs advertising "fresas volcan" (volcano strawberries!); all the while, we are steadily climbing.  But suddenly the bright sunshine and blue skies are swallowed up in clouds, and a misty rain is blowing around us.  Unfortunately this rain gets progressively heavier as we continue, and Lisa is starting to think strongly about "plan B" which is to find somewhere in the area to stay, and tackle the volcano early on Wednesday.  But the nearest town is 10km away from the park entrance, which seems a bit excessive for an early morning hike, so we peer keenly out the window for other options as we approach the park.  We spot a couple that don't seem too far out....but we'll feel differently about that soon, when we decide to hop off the bus at the entrance gate instead of paying the fee to go in.  It's misty, cold & soaking wet so it doesn't seem worth the $10 fee when it's unlikely we'd be able to see anything!  Also we don't know what facilities are in the park - the bus doesn't leave again until 2pm (it's 10:30am now) so what if there is nowhere sheltered to wait?  We bundle into our rain jackets and stride back down the road - much to the bemusement of our driver and the other bus passengers, not to mention the park staff!

It's surprisingly cold rain, and also very windy.  We'd kinda forgotten what it was like to feel cold but it comes back to us pretty quickly!  We just have to hope that we can find some accommodation soon, before our spare clothes also manage to get wet.  We try to hitch a ride with the few passing cars, but no joy. After about half an hour, we reach the closest accommodation...but the sign at the entrance is falling down, which is perhaps a better indicator than the "abierto" (open) sign...?  Chris makes some allusion to the Bates Motel, but Lisa is keen to try it anyways - there is no "se vende" (for sale) sign, and other than the broken sign the entrance looks well cared for.  So we turn down the rutted dirt road (4x4 only!) and follow it down towards the valley.

It seems like we've been walking for ages, and at every turn in the road the cold wind whips against our soaking wet clothes.  It's a pity because we can see that there ought to be a great view and some lovely peace & quiet, but all we can think about is shelter!  We pass a cute little rental cabin on tall stilts, with a wide porch over top of a beautiful hydrangea bush.  It looks so inviting, but the gate is closed and there's just a phone number on the sign outside (we are still using our UK mobile, so we try to avoid making calls except in case of emergencies!).  So we continue down the hill until we reach the end, a small house with a crooked sign on the roof inviting us to Las Lagunillas.  There is smoke trickling from the chimney but the door is closed, and we're about to burst into tears when it opens, and a rather astonished-looking man pops out to welcome us.  We duck inside and use our best sign language to request a room for the night.  Our host introduces himself as Alberto, and shows us to a cute little room which is tacked onto the side of the house and nicely nestled against the bank on the other two sides - for $30, it looks cosy and warm, and even has a hot (but scary-looking) shower which Alberto demonstrates for us.  We're sold, and he leaves us to peel off our wet layers with a standing invitation to return to his restaurant for coffee or "mountain whiskey".


We like the sound of this and it doesn't take us long to lay out everything to dry, rub ourselves briskly with a towel, throw on our best dry clothes (not too many choices available since we just have day packs, so Lisa has a fetching ensemble involving leggings and a scarf that's pretending to be a skirt!), and dash back through the side door into the restaurant.  Unfortunately it's not too toasty in there and we proceed to spend the next couple of hours shivering our way through coffee, whiskey (which is a bit like tequila, and served with a neat piece of fruit which seems halfway between an orange and a lime), and lunch.  Everything is delicious though - even Lisa is sold on the breaded chicken, which has nothing in common with KFC - it seems to be a chicken breast which has been pounded quite flat, then dipped in something resembling pancake batter before being fried.  It's moist and really tasty!  We feel a bit bad that Alberto seems to have to go out to get some of the ingredients for our lunch though, and we wonder how many customers he gets at this time of year.  It's a shame because it's a beautiful setting, and we are mesmerised by the constantly changing weather and views.  In the brief moments when it's clear, we can see the San Jose suburbs laid out below us, and hummingbirds busily flit amongst the feeders...but minutes later the wind is howling, rain is blowing everywhere, and the valley has all but disappeared in the clouds.

After lunch we decide to go & huddle under the blankets in our room, and agree with Alberto that we'll return for dinner ("sopa" (soup) is requested!) at 8pm.  It's much cosier in our room and we enjoy a few games of cards and a cheeky nap.  Shortly after dusk the electricity goes off - so much for the hot shower, as we're guessing (correctly, it turns out) that the storm has blown out part of the line.  But like good campers we have packed a flashlight and a headtorch, so our card game is barely interrupted and we have no trouble making our way to the restaurant at soup o'clock.  Our table is lit with a candle (ah, warmth!) and Alberto is inordinately pleased when we order beer to accompany our soup.  He brings the meal with a flourish and warns us that it's "mucho caliente" (very hot) - perfect!  This soup is just what we needed - piled high with vegetables and noodles, and indeed very hot.  Lisa even eats the pieces of minute steak that are tucked in amongst the veg.  Then it's back to our room, where unfortunately we won't get a chance to enjoy a hot (electric) shower after all.  Instead we have a game of cribbage and then hide in the toasty bed, listening to the wind howling and the frogs singing outside. Fingers crossed for a brighter day tomorrow, otherwise we're going to have to hang around until the 2pm bus, or brave another long walk to get to town.

We sleep well in our cosy room, but awake to the sound of the wind howling outside - uh oh.  We're lying there contemplating our next step when Lisa hears a bird singing outside.  She jumps up and pulls back the curtain to see blue sky! (and also a pretty horse & some chickens)

Our hero, Alberto
We throw our (still slightly damp) clothes on and grab our packs.  We made an arrangement with Alberto that we would come in at 7am for coffee, but no breakfast - we wanted to get an early start if the weather was good.  He serves us two steaming cups of coffee with a packet of crackers on the side -  taking great pains to point out that they are "integral" (= whole wheat?).  He also indicates that we should wait for him - he returns shortly with a hammer in hand, and we eventually surmise that he's been told about the broken sign, and will give us a lift to the main road when he goes up to fix it.  So with a cheery "Vamos" from Alberto we all pile into his Land Rover (Chris squished in the back) and bump, jolt and jerk up the rough track to the road.

We spend a few minutes saying goodbye and a huge thankyou to Alberto for taking such good care of us.  He tries to insist that he'll drive us to the park gate but we reckon he's been generous enough, so we decline & set out to walk.  It's a good thing too- there are several large pieces of debris from the storm in the middle of the road, but even the SINAC park workers who drive past us don't seem inclined to get out of their truck to move these...but Chris takes it upon himself to toss them all into the ditches as we pass.

We reach the gate at 8:30 and the sun is still shining - perfect.  We pay the $10 entrance fee and continue on up the road until we come to the visitor's center.  We can see some incoming clouds so we decide to just grab a couple of cold drinks to accompany our picnic lunch (which we've been carrying with us all this time - thankfully it didn't mind getting wet!) and do all the hikes right away - since the bus back to San Jose isn't until 2pm, we should have plenty of time to visit the educational displays & shops later.

It's a short, easy walk on a paved path to the crater.  This is our first volcano peak so we spend some time oohing and aahing over the steam vents and the opaque turquoise crater lake.  At this time of day there are just 2 other people there, so we can all have a lookout area to ourselves while we try to catch a cloudless moment to get some photos of the lake.

The next trail takes us through dwarf cloudforest (stunted by the harsh conditions at the top of a volcano!) to another, much larger crater lake.  Again, the clouds are whipping in and out of the area so quickly that every photo is different, and again we share the spot with just 2 others (this time it gives everyone a chance to have a photo taken with their partner!).  The walk through the cloudforest is also great - it's a real fantasy-type landscape, with dark tree limbs intertwined in impossibly complex patterns.  The ex-forest ranger in Lisa appreciates the amount of effort that's gone into the packed surface of the trail - even clearing it in this dense forest must've taken ages.

The final trail leads from the lake back to the parking lots & visitor's center, this time through some "normal" forest packed with birdsong, flowering trees, ferns & bromeliads.  We meet a couple from Costa Rica (him) and Colombia (her), and a small group of young people rushes past us at one point, but for the rest of the walk we're all alone which is great for birdwatching.  Probably the most interesting bird we spot is a big dark pheasant-looking fellow, high up in a tree...we learn later that this is a "black turkey".

Altogether the hikes take us about 3 hours, so we still have plenty of time to relax.  We sit down in a small picnic area to make our salad (beans, tuna, vegetables & mayo) and spread out our damp clothes to dry in the intermittent sun.  We have to spend a bit of time fighting off a very forward squirrel (who is disappointingly not as green as our guidebook led us to expect) but overall it's a very pleasant lunch.  The parking lot is about half full now and a few buses have pulled in too, so we're especially glad to have had a chance to stroll in silence before all these visitors arrived.

After lunch we check out the visitor center (tiny, but with an interesting light display about the "Pacific Ring of Fire", grab a slice of cake & a coffee from the cafe, and browse through the shop (lots of hammocks, t-shirts, and colourful paintings on wood).  We find our Costa Rica magnet and also pick up some locally-made liqueurs - cream & coffee.

We were thinking of making a stop in Alajuela and jumping on a bus to Sarchi to view the famous painted oxcarts, but we are pretty tired after our adventures and decide to just take the bus straight to San Jose.  It's a pleasant surprise to discover that the bus is free on the way home!  This means we have a bit of money to buy some new shoes for Lisa - she has realised that she has some decent clothes to wear when meeting an old colleague tomorrow, but her only shoes are stinky sports sandals; cheap green thongs; or hiking boots!  Luckily she manages to find something in her size (well, almost - US size 9.5 - frankly this is a miracle in Costa Rica, where most of the zapaterias only carry up to size 7 for women!) which don't have a 4 inch heel (another miracle) and are on sale for about US$ 15!



We arrive back at Costa Rica Backpackers and are relieved to discover that their "buy 3 nights, get one free" deal DOES apply even if you don't have a continuous stay.  The guy who checked us out told us this wasn't the case.  (We notice the next day that all the signs are changed to make the wording of the offer much clearer.)  We make a quick dinner with the groceries we'd left in the fridge, and pass out on the bed in our basement room.  Even the music from the bar upstairs can't disturb us!