Doing Good

Just so you know, it is not just about broken teeth and adrenaline rushes. We are doing some good here. The breakdown:

• 2 afternoons spent picking up over 50 large bags of trash on two local beaches and then sorting and recycling most of what we picked up
• 2 afternoons working with a local environmental activist helping him market his Green Alliance by painting a wall next to the beach and recycled wooden signs with green slogans to be posted throughout the community
• 1 afternoon learning about sea turtle rescue from a local man who had dedicated his life to saving these amazing creatures
• 5 mornings working with over 60 local children at a camp run by two ex-pats. we played team building exercises, games, sand castle building, swimming, and surfing. (the students loved this most of all)
• took hikes through rain forests with professional guides teaching us about Costa Rica's ecosystem and economy
• lived with local families where students learned how Ticos lived day to day, and these students began to think about how one does not need so much to be happy
• learned Spanish, whether they took Spanish class or not
• Met an award winning Chilean/Costa Rican writer, Tatiana Lobo
• interacted and befriended people from all over the globe
• My English 1C students read and wrote about service learning, ecotourism, Costa Rican/travel literature.

This has been the most fruitful study abroad program I have ever been a part of.

Adventure Travel

Part of the allure of Costa Rica is the adventure opportunities. We've had our share of fun. The most exciting, thrilling, and nerve racking for me after the accident has been the canopy/zip line tours. Picture a one inch cable strung out 500-1000 yards across a canyon, 100 yards above the tree tops. Now picture yourself hurtling across this precipice at 40mph strapped into a harness with your right hand behind you with a glove with a quarter inch slab of leather as your brake while your feet dangle. The one place, Extremo, in Monteverde even let you go superman, hanging face down, arms outstretched like Clark Kent's alter ego. Where are my blue tights when I need them?

Last Saturday we traveled old school- all by horse, all day long. We started out on an hour ride to a ranger station at the base of an active volcano. The trail there meandered through chaparral then rain forest. The first leg was a good warm up- I rode in Spain last time I was there, but my body seemed to have forgotten. My horse's name was Kiko, a docile white pack horse who liked to eat and shit. After the ranger station, we rode another 45 minutes to some natural hot springs. Sulfur smelling, but a tantalizing aqua-marine. There were rocks built up around them, so one could soak. Even in the 90 plus heat the 100 degree water felt good on a novice cowboys aching muscles. There was a river nearby so moving from the cold, river to the thermal pools was refreshing. But cowbnoys aren't known for thermal spas, so we took the horses again, by this time we were all pros, everyone trying to get the lead of the pack. Another hour ride and a good half mile hike down into some dense tropical forest to a 30 foot waterfall with a small 20 by 20 pool. The lodge had packed us a lunch- 1 ham sandwich, 1 tuna sandwich, some cookies and some pineapple. All but the tuna tasted great, hunger the best spice. However, our riding day wasn't over. One more short ride took us to their version of the canopy/zip line tour. 7 cables, the longest 500 yards, most of them much lower than the first one. My group scoffed at the diminutive size of this course. But all of us were walking bowlegged by this time, and tired from sun and adventure. The zip line was almost too much for such a day.

Another day we all rented kayaks and paddled out to the island in the center of the horseshoe bay where Samara is located. We beached our kayaks on the south side of the island, where a small spit of sand appears at low tide. The guides took out snorkeling gear, fins, mask, snorkle. The surf was pretty rough- it was no protected reef, but there was enough clear water and reef to see some parrot fish and other aquarium worthy small fish. After, the guides took out fresh pineapple, sliced them with a small machete and we ate juicy pineapple chunks. Not a bad life.

Finally, most of us have been surfing. Choco's, a surf school owned by Choco who rents out boards, gives lessons and lets us use the boards whenever we ant. I am able to stand most times now, the waves gentle at high tide and the water warm. Most of the students are getting into it too. There's something to be said about teaching in board shorts and a rash guard so I can go surfing once class lets out. One of my most vivid last memories of this trip is surfing at dusk the sun behind the small hill, the mango sky, laying on my board, the taste of the salt water, the smell of wood smoke, entirely exhausted but at peace, waiting for one more wave before I go to La Vela Latina for a $1.80, ice cold beer. Pura Vida.

the travelling wounded

Well, let's begin with thanks that I took that Wilderness Medicine course last June. I've had to put skills to work on this trip. I am also thankful for this group. This past weekend we travelled on Friday morning to Nicoya to see a church first built in the 1600's but destroyed by an earthquake and rebuilt the 1800s. We drove by bus to La Fortuna around the large lake in the center of the country. On Sat morning, we left the hotel to experience a rope swing then travel on to see a volcano Arenal. I made it to the rope swing. I was nervous when we first arrived as it was not really a tourist destination- just some local place with a knotted rope over a picturesque but swift moving river. It reminded me of the Burlington Falls. One girl who was hesitant to use it as it was a good 10 foot drop to a very deep pool. Alas, hesitation skills. I was walking up the trail as she launched and hung onto the rope. And continued to hang on past the point of no return. But return she did and decided to let go too close to the rock. She protected her face, I am told, but not her chin which took most of the force. Needless to say, my stomach dropped and knew right away we were in trouble. Luckily most of the guys were in the water and got to her right away. I jumped in after her as quickly as I could. There was a good deal of blood and she was complaining about her teeth. I couldn't tell where the blood was coming from at first, as her front teeth were fine. Then I realized it was her chin, a good two inch incision. We got her to shore, onto the bus and then to a local clinic. I stayed with her while the group continued on with the days itinerary. At the clinic I watched them stitch her up. The girl was stoic, barely crying. Because of the injury to the head we decided it was best to take her to the nearest hospital a 40 minute drive. She was alert and talking through clenched jaws so we took a taxi, driven by Rapheal, and not an ambulance.The bill for the stitches and some pain medication came to $60. We went to San Carlos, a dirty town with a public and private hospital. We took the private hospital. The doctor there spoke English, which was helpful as I was the interpreter and my Spanish consists of vocabulary revolving around food and cerveza. They took a cat scan which showed no signed of serious head trauma and suggested she stay in the hospital for 8 hours for observation. Once I knew she was not seriously hurt, I let her sleep while I tried to get something to eat. But it was like Tom Hanks character in Saving Private Ryan- the shakes started to come. On the outside I was pretty calm, but the inside was churning and I had too much time to think of what could have been.

For the rest of the day, we watched movies, played cards, and Bananagrams. The girl refused to take pain medication and could hardly talk as her jaw and teeth still caused her pain. In between, I was on my phone trying to arrange to meet up with the group at our next destination, a four hour car ride into the mountains. Our next hotel arranged to have someone come pick us up. It was a ride from hell as far as I am concerned with a lot of switchbacks on dirt road with more potholes and rocks than flat dirt. I can't imagine what the girl was thinking, but I am getting nauseous thinking about it.

We arrived at the hotel around 10 at night. Of course there weren't enough rooms for all of us. But I was dead tired and slept a bit, the days events still churning in my head.

The next morning, the group had to choice, suspension bridge tour or zip line tour. The other professor took the group on the bridge and I took the zip liners. It's an intense thrill latched to an inch cable 500 feet above the rainforest canyon zipping along a good 40 mph. There were 12 sections in all, the 2nd to last a surprise Tarzan type swing. Needless to say, swings weren't our friends. Another girl, wearing flip flops against the recommendations of the guides, caught her toe on a rope as she was swinging, which caused a cut and hyper extended it.

Luckily it didn't seem that bad after we got her back to the bus and it doesn't look broken. There is a young (my age) american couple living in town who are doctors. They looked at both of my wounded warriors and told me they should be fine, we just need to look out for infection. The one with the chin however has four chipped broken teeth. yesterday she and I took an hour bus ride to Nicoya to get x rays. She's got some dental work ahead of her this week. The upside is that Costa Rica is medical tourism destination, especially for dental work and it should be hundreds if not thousands cheaper than the US. I've been paying for everything so far and it has cost less than $600 bucks. That's for CAT scans, antibiotics, 8 hours in a hospital, $200 in taxi rides. There's something to be said for socialized medicine.

But my fun isn't over. I still have 11 days. And last night a guy got stung by a scorpion. I am thinking of putting a red cross on our bus when we go away next weekend.

My Apartment

I’m staying at a ground level apartment owned by Maria Fernandez and her husband Wolfgang. I’ve noticed in Latin countries, if you have Maria as a name, you normally need to pair it with a second one. It’s a cute, immaculate, and small space- around 400 square feet with a small galley kitchen and living room combo, a back bedroom, and bathroom.

You enter through the patio, ten by 5, with a wooden table a couple of plastic chairs, and a hammock. Took a nap there this afternoon. The only way to take a nap.

Once inside, the kitchen is to the left. Small, apartment fridge, a counter and sink, and a hot plate. There is storage below this with curtains blocking the view of the Spartan dishes, silverware, pots, and pans. A bar doubles as counter space and is the only table to eat at inside. There’s some wicker furniture, a couch and chair, that don’t look too comfortable. There’s even a tv. I have wireless internet which I am not sure is a good thing. I am trying to limit my use.

The bedroom is basic. A queen size bed, low to the ground, a small closet with some shelves. The woodwork in the place is the best part, organic with whole logs acting as support beams and shelves that are curved and natural- no measured cuts of wood here. The curtain rods are sticks worn or sanded smooth and bleached.

The bathroom shower is tiled with a stepped wall separating it from the rest of the room. The hot water heater looks like a Mr. Coffee pot on top of the showerhead and an electric switch above the toilet. Needless to say, cool showers for the next three weeks. (the weather is in the eighties so this won’t be a problem).

It’s comfortable and quiet. The biggest noise makers are the howler monkeys in the trees. They compost here- all organic scraps get tossed over the wall into the bush. There are some banana trees on property. They are green. Maybe they are plantains. I’ll have to ask. There are a lot of creepy crawlers, the most interesting was in my bathroom sink this morning- a scorpion the size of a dime. Time to shake out the shoes before I put them on.

There is another apartment next door, and I can hear the young girl singing songs in English. I see her and her mother walking past but I haven’t had the chance to speak to them. Maria Fernandez and Wolfgang live above. The only pain is the security. I have to carry three keys, one for the gate on the driveway, one for the security screen door, and another for the door itself. It’s quite a process coming and going, especially at night because there is little light. I need to carry a flashlight.

Made it

After a year plus of planning, emailing, cajoling, and many other gerunds, we made it. 25 strong. Well... eventually. Only 24 made it so far. A marine, I am not. More on that later.

The journey was rough, broken into five, three hour increments: LAX, flight to Houston, layover in Houston, flight to Iberia, bus ride to Samara. I tried to sleep during the flights, but was baby neck and kept jarring myself awake. My cabesa is mucho grande.

Flying in was a bit of a joy ride. You could see the white caps on the water from 20,000 feet, a pretty good indication of the adventure to come. Who needs Six Flags when you have landings like that?

I was a bit disappointed in the welcoming we received. Or lack of one.Believe me, I wasn't expecting marching bands but we got a Dutch student worker who unluckily got picked the Sunday shift. It was a bit of a cluster fuck arranging the Tico-families to come pick up the students. The students were a bit shell shocked, and some of the girls looked at me with utter confusion when I told them to get into these cars with these strangers. Even worse, we couldn't get a hold of some of the families, so some students had to wait. And wait.

We had a welcome dinner... but once again, there wasn't anyone from the school to welcome us. Apparently, Lucie came at 8:30 but many of the students were baby neck, falling asleep into their gallo pinto.

By this time it was pitch black, and I made sure everyone had a buddy so no one walked home alone. We lost most of the group when we passed the Internet cafe.

Speaking of which, as is my Modus operandi, I left a student behind. For those who don't remember, in 2006 as we were departing Barcelona, one of my students had her backpack stolen- due to her own stupidity and/or drunkenness. Of course the backpack had her wallet and passport, so with many tears I left her at the airport with $200 and a good luck. On Sat night, more of the same. We had a late entry participant. One girl signed on within the last week. But she had to book her own flight. I was surprised when she told me she would arrive within ten minutes of our plane's arrival. Serendipitous I thought. Too much so. She had read the itinerary incorrectly, and instead of departing at 11:30 Sat night, she was leaving 11:30 Sunday, coming in 24 hours later that we were. There wasn't much I could do at that point. She can take a bus or a taxi. We'll see if she arrives today.

I was in bed and asleep by 9:00. Arrival day- complete.