Last night there was the best thunderstorm of all the ones I’ve had here so far (except the one that passed over the moment I was standing on the metal hanging bridge): a nice farewell present just for me.
Howler monkeys sounded my alarm at 5:00 a.m. to get ready to depart for Cahuita on the 6:20 shuttle. By the door of my room I abandoned my beloved trekking sneakers which have gone with me Tibet, Nepal, New Zealand, West Virginia and so many other places. On yesterday’s trip down to the waterfall, I’d heard a funny slapping sound as I walked and realized that part of one sole had come loose. I hope someone with some superglue will take them in and love them. I bent down and gave each shoe three tender pats. I felt as if I were abandoning my children to some unknown fate. I also jettisoned my brand new REI water bottle because I’m carrying too much.
Only ten minutes late, I climbed aboard the van with the most sour bunch of people I’ve ever seen, for the six-hour, stop-and-go ride cross-country. During the ride, I entertained myself by reading the Spanish signs and trying to figure out what they meant, and then in my head I practiced random Spanish phrases. My Spanish is so bad that I had to look up the word for the formal “you,” which even someone with ten minutes of the language knows.
I was a little nervous because the driver wasn’t familiar with my hotel and I was afraid I would wander lonely as a cloud for hours, dragging my heavy suitcase. But he found it. It’s in the middle of nowhere. A blue morpho butterfly danced by as I approached reception, and once settled, a capuchin monkey (I’m pretty sure that’s what it is, with its white face) leapt from palm tree to palm tree overhead.
Now I’m settled in. I put some earplugs by Molly’s bed to help her with my inevitable snoring. I decided to do some hand-laundry but gave up after the first pair of underwear because there’s no plug for the sink, making such work very difficult. I’ll have to find a lavanderia. I learned from the proprietor of the hotel that Molly is due in about two hours from now. More later.
Later: No sooner had I finished writing than a certain intrepid traveler appeared on the doorstep. What a treat!
Our hotel — a tiny room with one double and one single bed wrapped in mosquito netting and a little space to walk around them — is on the outskirts of this five-block town right on the Caribbean.
Mi hija Lulu got settled and we tried to get on the Internet to plan for tomorrow’s enterprises, with no success. The hotel owners here pale in comparison to those at Cerro Azul. While Cerro Azul made a bunch of phone calls on my behalf, here they wouldn’t even let us use the phone to make a local call, alleging they didn’t have one. I shouldn’t make comparisons. It only leads to unhappiness.
We walked into town to try to find food. Neither of us had eaten all day. We found a cute little restaurant that served us a huge plate (we split it) of delicious chicken and rice cooked in coconut and some exotic Caribbean spices. We were mystified by one thing on the menu: “Rondon Viagra.”
We walked back to our hotel and then back into town again as early dark settled in. There was lots of activity on the streets as locals geared up for festivities related to Costa Rican Independence Day. I don’t know anything about CR history, so I don’t know what the independence is from. Oh wait. Duh. The Spanish.
The town seems seedy to me and I don’t feel safe here after dark. Beautiful Molly, dressed for the very hot weather, attracts endless attention from horny men of all ages, making me bristle. She takes it in stride. I take issue with it.
So we’re sitting at the table right now at 8:00, fighting with a terrible Internet connection, talking about blowing out of here early, fearing that we will be saddled with paying for the night that we’re bailing on. But I think that’s a good plan. So Molly, with fingers flying across her tiny cellphone keyboard, just booked us a room in another town south of here for the night after tomorrow.