Goodbye Costa Rica... Hello Panama!

First and foremost, lo siento for the delay in blog entries... we're on vacation... and lazy... and we had a guest visiting... and we could come up with a few more excuses if you need more.
This is going to be a HUGE blog entry, you may want to read this in several installments.

Well, where did we leave off?
Oh yeah, about three weeks ago!

From the sleepy and stoney town of Montezuma (akin to a little Berkeley nestled within the beaches of Costa Rica), we hopped on a jet boat to the town of Jaco to check out the international surf competition. We arrived in Jaco with no hotel reservation and no clue where to stay. Prior to our arrival, we had heard rumors that there were no hotel vacancies within 2 hours of Jaco... the surf competition was a pretty big deal. So, our plan was to drop Marisa at a bar with our bags and a beverage and I would head out on foot to track down suitable accommodations. Pretty fool proof plan actually... until we got to the bar. As soon as we found a nice spot for Marisa to mellow out with an ice cold Imperial, this dude walks over and strikes up a conversation. First, a physical description of our new friend. SWM, mid 40s, pale, lanky, slightly balding, possible needle tracks in arms, many mosquito bites, and a southern drawl included in both english and spanish accents. In one word, sketchy. From the speed at which we received this gentleman's life story, I don't think he had talked to anyone in months. Within the first five minutes, we learned that he moved around a lot as a kid, didn't really feel like he had a home, almost died last year, spent almost a year bed ridden with a live in nurse... keep in mind we found this guy in a bar at 10am with a beer in his hand trying to sell us an overpriced underwater camera. Once again, sketch. I realized that our plan was foiled. Leaving Marisa alone in a bar with this man would be an unacceptable maneuver should I like to keep Marisa as a travel companion. So, logically, we hopped in a cab with our new friend so he could show us the hotel he was staying at on the outskirts of town. After all, I do carry a shank. It turned out that this man was relatively benign to all but himself... and we found a place with air conditioning and a solid roof for the night. The next day, we promptly found a new place to stay.

Within the first few minutes, we soon learned that Jaco sucks. The beach and town are equally dirty and touristy. Every two feet, someone was trying to intrusively peddle their crappy bootleg wares. Luckily, the surf competition was not actually in Jaco, but in the little beach town of Playa Hermosa about 5km south. One would think, with an international surf competition, the largest tourist draw the town had ever seen, they would step up transportation in the area. Nope. After waiting 2 hours for a bus, we finally got to the surf comp, and it was so cool to watch that we spent two full days sitting on the beach watching pro surfers rip up the ocean on some serious waves. The first day was unbearably hot without a hint of a breeze. On top of that, Playa Hermosa is a black sand beach, so it was like sitting in an oven. And with the waves literally crashing on the beach, it was a perfect beach for watching surfers from 10 feet away, not a perfect beach for cooling off without drowning. In contrast, the next day was overcast most of the day, but still super muggy. After lunch and a six pack, we found ourselves standing on the beach in the midst of the heaviest downpour we've felt so far. Everyone around us packed up their stuff in a hurry and headed for shelter. There were only a handful of people left on the beach. Marisa and I simply looked at each other, glanced at our bathing suits, cracked a fresh warm beer, and continued to watch the last few heats of the surf comp in the pouring rain. The drops were so big they stung when they hit us. The teams in the competition were yelling at the judges to stop the competition. And in the final minutes, a monstrous set of waves rolled in and proved to be some of the sweetest rides of the day. And we caught it all.

From Jaco we hopped a bus to National Park Manuel Antonio, where we had lined up a nice open air studio at the top of the hill overlooking the ocean for about a week. After eating restaurant food for weeks on end, its nice to have a kitchen and a home cooked meal for a change. The timing couldn't have been better, because the rain moved in and it was nice to be living in a place that felt like a home, not a hotel room. When the weather cleared, we took the opportunity to check out the national park and some local beaches.


Manuel Antonio is was one of the highlights of my trip to Costa Rica ten years ago, and I was looking forward to returning with Marisa to see if it lived up to my recollections. It did. On the first day the weather cleared, we headed over to Manuel Antonio at the crack of dawn, expecting to check out the wildlife in the morning, and lounge on the beaches in the afternoon. The park included miles of rainforest trails, and we were so impressed with the wildlife we saw that we hiked every inch of trail. Time to list the animals we saw: 5 three toed sloths (one climbing down a tree, one scratching himself, and one almost close enough to touch), two types of monkeys (howlers and white faced capuchins, one of the howlers was even carrying a baby on her stomach!), a cayman alligator (like 5 ft away from us!), a raccoon, an agouti, hundreds of bright red crabs, a couple birds I don't know the name of cuz I don't really like birds, a huge toad, and a bunch of bugs... and we didn't even have a guide! Shhh... we actually just walked behind groups of people that shelled out the $30/person to have a nature guide to show them where the animals are. When they stopped to look at something, we stopped too... We rule! We spent so much time hiking that we ran out of time to lay on the beach because the sun was going down and park was closing. Unfortunately, when it came time to leave the park, it was also high tide. At high tide, you had to somehow get across a river about 30ft wide and thigh deep. Now, especially since we're both strapping young individuals wearing bathing suits, fording the river was not a big deal... to me at least. However, for those not as young and strapping, there are tons of locals with little dingies trying to get you to pay them a few dollars to ferry you across this minuscule creek. I was having none of it. The only reason that these guys even had a chance of getting business is because there is a large and conspicuous sign before the river saying something like: Warning, the water is contaminated with fecal matter. Marisa wanted to get in a boat. I told her that I would put money on the fact that the sign was only a scam to make the dudes a couple extra bucks... and we're walking! So, we walked... and we were/are fine. Ha! However, when we got home, Marisa looked into the validity of the fecal contamination sign... not only did she find that the river was contaminated, so was the ocean water we had been swimming in. But that wasn't all! At high tide, the biggest danger when crossing the river were the alligators swimming in it... Oops. For the next few days, Marisa kept complaining about phantom stomach pains from the "poo water" I made her walk through. I would like to posture another theory. That same day, Marisa bought a couple bottles of cheap Chilean wine because she was sick of drinking beer. The wine tasted like vinegar. When the wine was gone, so were the stomach pains. Coincidence... I think not.



We spent the rest of our time in Manuel Antonio at a secluded beach we stumbled upon during one of our many hikes. The beach itself was pretty small, about the length of a football field, hidden from the waves of the open ocean within a deep cove, and hidden from the tourists by a series of awful dirt roads. I'm not even sure if the beach had a name, but it was perfect. The water was calm and clear, ideal for swimming. We found that if we swam out about 200 yards, there was a small reef we could stand on. During low tide, we could stand knee deep in the middle of the cove and watch the fish swim through the reef. Incredibly, even though we spent three straight days relaxing at the same beach, we failed to take one picture.

From Manuel Antonio, we hopped a bus back to San Jose. After two more nights with Shanthi and Randall, it was finally time to say goodbye to our new family in Costa Rica! Next stop... Panama!



At this point, it might be a good time to take a break, get some fresh air, go back to work, or do whatever it is that real people do... as we said before, this blog entry is gunna be HUGE!



Panama!
Well... almost.
One of our roommates from San Francisco flew into San Jose on August 14th to travel with us through the Caribbean side of Costa Rica and into Panama. As the wonderful hosts we are, we lined up a rental car so we could show Lexi a few sights before heading over to the Caribbean in a wonderfully air conditioned 4x4 instead of a hot and smelly bus. Thus far on our journey, aside from the flight down here, we have rarely had to be at a specific place at a specific time. However, meeting a friend at the airport when she doesn't speak spanish qualifies as one of those times. As such, we reserved a car a few days in advance and arrived at the car rental agency well ahead of time. Of course, when we arrive, the office is closed... because the woman is next door eating breakfast. At 10am. On a week day. When she finally came back to work, it turned out that the car we reserved was not even there. It was conveniently located in a town 30 minutes away, and it took someone about an hour to get it to us. So, by the time we got our car, filled out the paperwork and drove all the way to the airport, we were afraid that Lexi would be lost, kidnapped, scammed or stolen... Fortunately, she remembered rule number one, which every parent tells their child at the amusement park. If you get separated from the group, stay at the designated meeting place until someone comes to get you. And we found her at the airport exactly where we told her to be. Sitting on her bag alone and confused. Surrounded and annoyed by taxi drivers. Let the journey begin!

We drove from the airport to Volcan Poas (the one we unsuccessfully visited in the first blog entry) in hopes of viewing the crater instead of a wall of fog. Now, that morning, not only had we been told that we wouldn't be able to see the volcano, we had also been told that visiting the volcano and then driving to the Caribbean would be too much for one day. When we arrived at the volcano, that man at front gate told us that a storm was blowing in from the Caribbean and that we wouldn't be able to see the volcano for two days... but we could pay the $30 and hike out to see the wall of fog if we wish. Nope. Strike #2. We drove back down, checked out a coffee plantation, got lost for an hour or two, drove for another 4 hours or so and finally made it to our Caribbean destination safe and sound.


We spent 3 nights in the town of Cahuita, a sleepy little town with one bar, a surprisingly eclectic assortment of restaurants and a Caribbean rasta mon vibe. And we got super lucky with our hotel! Aside from chillin on the beach, playing bocce ball with coconuts, and getting Lexi drunk off Coco Loco's, we spent a bunch of time by the pool and in the garden of our hotel. We were even lucky enough to see Toucans perched in the tree above the pool!



Like Manuel Antonio, Cahuita also has a national park with beaches and rainforest trails to explore... I thought I had read somewhere that the trail was about 2.5 miles and talked the ladies into taking a day to check out the park and the beaches. Well, I don't know where I got the 2.5 miles from because 10km later (6 miles or so...) we were still walking through the jungle, Lexi stubbed her toe, Marisa got bitten by ants, and we were still walking through the jungle... hehe... Sorry. Walking 6 or 7 miles through the mud in flip-flops is pretty rough, and we ended up tired and sore and very far from home. Although, I must say, we got some really good pictures and I've been getting pretty good at spotting sloths in the trees... and in the back of a pickup truck. The trail popped out on a road in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a bus stop and a bar, and no indication of when a bus might stop by. Marisa tried to hitchhike and got super stoked when a car stopped in front of her. Then, a man got out of the car, because he was getting dropped off at the bus stop, and the car drove away... Lexi and I made fun of her.






We ended up walking back to the bar to find out when the bus would come... only to miss the bus, and get stuck at the bar for an hour. Convenient. The bar had a clean pool and cold beer, so we were happy. There is nothing like a dip in the pool and a couple brews to soothe the aches and pains. So fresh and so clean, with a little buzz, we eventually hopped a bus to the town of Puerto Viejo to grab some dinner and check out the scene. Definitely a bigger town than Cahuita, and the consensus was that we liked the feel... aka, we gusta.


So, one last story from Costa Rica... There were two German Shepards that lived at the hotel. The dog and I were playing fetch with coconuts (the dog was fetching... I was throwing) and the dog ended up chewing a coconut over the pool. I kept throwing the coconut away from the pool, and he kept bringing it back and dropping it in the pool. There were chunks of coconut everywhere. Marisa, the good Samaritan that she is, decided to swim to the bottom of the pool and clean up the coconut. Next thing I know, Marisa resurfaces screaming and sputtering, "Mikey the coconut bit me!!!!" I was like, "Dude, coconuts don't bite... Let me see." Sure enough her finger was totally cut and bleeding. So then I was like, "Whoa... coconuts don't do that." It's a good think Lexi bought goggles for us, so I put on a pair and swam down to investigate. It turns out a little crab had somehow fallen into the pool. What Marisa thought was a chunk of coconut was actually a crab... and she totally grabbed it. And it apparently didn't like that... so it pinched her.

Ok... Panama!
Except Mikey just got very tired and weary and fatigued from all the typing... hand off... go Marisa, go!

So the next morning we took a bus to the border town of Sixaola, where crossing the border would commence to be a pain in the ass, but also pretty funny. The bus dropped us off about a block from the Costa Rican customs office, where they made us wait in line to get the customs papers, get out of line to fill them out, then get back in line to stamp the papers. Crossing the border, we actually had to carry all of our own bags across a bridge into Panama.


On the other side, we waited in a line, only to be told to go to the next line first (makes a lot of sense, right?) so we could buy a tourist card. Learning our lesson back in Denver when we were kicked off our plane for not showing proof of exit, Mike and I had all our documents ready to prove we were flying out of Panama City. Unfortunately, Lexi's ticket out of San Jose, Costa Rica was not proof that she was leaving Panama. She then had to walk down the hill (into Panama) to buy a bus ticket out of Panama. We all went back to the first window and 2 hours later and in the worst heat we've felt thus far, we got our stamps into the country!


After another bus, then boat ride we arrived in the town of Bocas del Toro. Exhausted, we picked the first hotel on the main island that looked semi-decent and took a walk through town. It only took about 5 minutes in the central park, before we were approached by a dude from Texas, advertising the first Monday Night Football game in his bar. Mike and I were pretty excited about this, but seeing that Lexi was only around for a week, we decided to first check out the local scene and found a restaurant on a dock where we could watch the sunset over some Pina Coladas and Mikey could sample each of the three Panamanian beers.


After dinner we tracked down the Toro Loco, the bar with football. Definitely a gringo bar, with a couple of tables, a dart board, a bunch of old guys playing Texas Hold'Em in the corner and luckily three empty seats at the bar. We suspected this was not a place for locals, and our suspicions were confirmed, when I stared at the half-warm Panamanian beer in front of me that tasted like nasty sparkling water with a look of "I can't drink this." Our new bartender friend swiftly picked up on this and disappeared below the bar only to emerge with non-other than a beer bong. Like the good American I am, I took it like a champ, and switched to a new type of beer.


We spent the rest of the night drinking beers, playing darts and watching Lexi get hit on by two Australians.


The next day we learned that the owner of our hotel was a sketchy, angry old man, because we saw him leave the bar the night before with a 16 year old girl. We promptly checked out and moved hotels. We took a water taxi to a nearby island, Isla Bastimentos, known for its pristine beaches, to see if we wanted to stay there instead. We'd heard good things about it from people outside of the area, but every time we brought it up on the main island in Bocas, there was a consistent, "it's only a day trip" kind of place. The locals were in fact correct, and the town itself was a bit ghetto. We then decided to hike to the other side to check out the closest beach. What we'd heard was an easy 30 minute hike turned into a treacherous hour long trek through mud, horse dung, dirty diapers and god knows what else. Half-way through, Lexi and I were forced to go shoe-less as all the mud made it very slippery and we squished our way through the forest, trying not to think about what we were walking through and really trying to not step on any large ants. Still not sure how Mikey made it through with his shoes on and in tact, when Lexi managed to break her shoe somewhere on the hike.




The beach was well worth the trek, with beautiful blue waters and only a handful of other people. We would have stayed longer, but when we saw a boat coming, we weren't willing to risk potentially have to walk back on the trail. We learned the next day that later that afternoon, the police were not letting people hike there, as there had been a few locals robbing hikers with machetes. Dodged that bullet.


The next day we rented bikes to check out the 5km fluffy yellow sand beach on the other side of the main island. The ride out there was about 10km, and about 7km into it, Mikey's bike started to fail miserably. Then the chain fell off. He tried to fix it a few times until it finally snapped and there was no hope. With no phones, buses or replacement chains anywhere to be found, the only option was to walk it back into town and get a new one. Lexi and I forged on, feeling really bad for Mikey, but made our way to the beach and waited. It was a good thing Mikey decided to turn around, because the last 3km of the ride were through sandy mud. Lexi and I were screaming and squealing the whole way, getting flashbacks from our prior day's excursion on Bastimentos. About an hour later, Mike finally arrived. We weren't sure what kind of mood he'd be in, because we certainly didn't enjoy the muddy ride out there. In plops Mike, parks his bike in the middle of the beach entrance and says, "that was awesome!" A little confused, we looked in his basket, only to find 10 beers, 4 of which were empty. Then I saw the back of his shirt and realized, while Lexi and I almost fell numerous times avoiding the muddy puddles, Mike drunkenly peddled right through every single one he could find.



We explored the beach and saw a bunch of flags on the other end. Turned out it was the taping of "Rataciti," otherwise known as Survivor in Romania. Beers in hand, we managed to sneak our way onto the set to watch them put 3 men in spherical cages, while their blind-folded teammates had to push them through an obstacle course on the sand. About 5 minutes in, we realized this was going to take about an hour, and we were bored. So we left and biked back to town. Again, Mikey rode through every puddle he could find. At one point, Lexi and I notice Mikey doing donuts on the beach. This distracts Lexi from focusing on keeping her balance through the mud and next thing you know she's laying in the mud, with her bike on top of her.



The following day we took an all-day snorkeling trip. It started in Dolphin Bay, where we saw about 5-6 dolphins, jumping through the waves. Pretty sweet.


They also took us to 2 snorkeling spots where we saw some crazy fish. Lexi and I were sure that we had spotted a seahorse and kept smacking Mike to look at it. He kept coming back up asking "where, where?" Yeah, turns out it was just a stick with a leaf, but it really looked like a seahorse. We also went to Red Frog Beach, named for the poisonous red dart frogs that inhabit the tropical forests lining the beach. Thankfully even the little kids on Bastimentos are looking to make a few dollars and caught a bunch that they stuck in large banana leaves trying to charge you to take a photo. Cool though that we got to see the frogs up close in their own habitat.



On Lexi's last full day in Bocas, we knew it was time to party hard and we went to the little island of Carenos, in between the main island and Bastimentos. We walked and explored and found the Bocas we had expected it to be, full of peaceful docks, huts built over the water, funny looking crabs with only one large claw and just a slow pace of life. We stumbled upon a really nice restaurant where we enjoyed the happy hour and the sunset right over the water. We even found Kevin's cousin perched on the edge of the dock to enjoy the sunset with us.




The next morning, a little hungover, we all took a boat back to the mainland to put Lexi on a bus for 6 hours, back to San Jose. It was a long journey for her, but with little time to spare, she made her flight.

We're hanging out here in Bocas for another 2 days to soak up the slow Caribbean life before we head to Boquete on Wednesday.

Don't worry friends, we caught the Niners/Raiders pre-season game and pretty stoked about our team this year. Be sure to pour out a little of your 49er hands for us at the next tailgate.

Hasta Luego!

Mikey&Marisa