Happy New Year from Turrialba, CR! December 31-January 1, 2009-10
Our Costa Rican Adventure 2009, I suppose, is only half the battle…the other half was getting here from DC. On New Years Eve, we woke up at 5:30 am to sleet, snow, and freezing rain. Knowing this would make our trip to Dulles even longer, we set out at around 6:00 to catch the metro, which was a half mile away. A half mile is not so long normally, but suited up in jeans, a down jacket, and flip flops, with sleet coming down, and a huge bag on your shoulders, and a half mile might as well be a marathon. We slipped and slid our way through the streets of DC to the Metro, where we traveled 30 minutes by train, only to miss our stop by two (you couldn’t hear the woman over the intercom), turn around, and run up the escalator just in time to “hurry up and wait” for the 5A-West bus to Dulles. After about 25 minutes of standing in the cold and trying to figure out exact change for the bus, the 5A shows up…with little to no room for our mammoth bags…so the bag got the seat and I stood. We bumped along for awhile, before reaching Dulles, where they drop you off at baggage claim, and, bent over with our luggage, we made the final ascent up the escalator to the TACA counter. For those of you who have never flown TACA…I highly recommend it: no baggage fees, warm meals included, open bar…what more could five rafters from West Virginia want? Well…an accurate departure time would have been nice. We got there with about an hour and a half to spare…or so we thought… We found a bagel shop and sat around for awhile until we got a frantic call from Mary, who was sitting on the plane…40 minutes before our 10:08 departure time…and they were making a final boarding call. I never got my cup of Starbucks…which was really sad, since Virginia had given me that Starbucks gift card for Christmas.
We did make it onto our plane…then we de-iced…the reason behind our early departure demystified!
The flight to San Salvador, El Salvador was pretty smooth: a couple drinks, finally a cup of coffee, and a hot meal of Mushroom Pasta, rolls, cheese, and Brownies (apparently they’re not so into salad).
Our landing…was rough.
But it was hot…finally!!
We grabbed a few waters at the airport and then rushed onto our next plane to San José (and yes, we know the way)!
At the airport, there was little difficulty getting through customs, but we weren’t staying in San José, so at 6:00 pm, 12 hours after we began our trip in DC, we set off in Mario’s TURISMO van to Turrialba, home to many of the country’s best whitewater! We made a few stops to get gas, water, snacks, and cervesas, and we climbed up past several volcanoes, into the Telemanca range, where Turrialba sits at about 643 meters…give or take a few. Mario took us straight to the hotel, where he had been so kind as to make us a reservation, which put us in the last 3 rooms in the whole place.
We are now, as of 8:30 pm on New Years Eve, residents of the Hotel Interamericano (www.hotelinteramericano.com). Exhausted, we still needed to eat dinner, so we head out to the streets of Turrialba. Of course, being all Pura Vida and what not, Costa Ricans spend the time leading to the new year with their families. Most everything was closed until midnight, when the clubs open and people party until dawn…I did not make it that far. The five of us wandered around, led by Scotty, who is somewhat of a celebrity around here, until we met up with Omar and his wife, outside of their bar. They invited us in after Scotty convinced them that Mary, Danielle, and I were ladies, not hookers, and that Zack was an upstanding young man. They served up some of the most delicious food I’ve had down here…stewed meat and potatoes, rice and garbanzo beans with pickled onions, and a Pilsen…just what we needed…another drink... and guaro shots for those who had never tried it (thankfully, I already have that check in my book, and probably won’t repeat…at least in shot form…it’s enough to put some hair on your chest. We chatted for awhile, even after they had closed the bar…some of the sweetest people. Apparently they had taken care of Scotty for years during his winter trips down here. At this point, those of us who wanted to head home did…it was Mary and me…party of two dorks who wanted to sleep rather than party after traveling so much!! We are sharing room 11 at the Hotel Interamericano. I read for a bit and watched a few of the fireworks (which actually started on our drive up here from San José) before turning in. Of course, since the party doesn’t start until midnight, we got in bed just in time for the noises to begin.
I have no idea when 2009 ended and 2010 began, but I do know that at one point things got really loud. Since there is no AC in many of the places we stay (keeps the cost of rooms down), a lot of it is just screened in, so you can hear everything. There were fireworks and explosions of all sorts, screaming, singing, and a drum circle right outside of the hotel. Danielle and Zack came in shortly after the New Year began, and Scotty, who has called Turrialba his winter home for many years, crawled in like a local around 5 am.
I got some decent sleep, but I am still fighting off a cold…and a wicked case of swimmers ear…which clogged up during our flight and makes everything sound like I’m stuck underwater. We woke up around 7:30 and found a nearby Mussmani (bakery…mmmm), and brought some bread and coffee home…just in time to find out that Scotty had been called to work on the river. Ah, yes, just like home. Scotty found an extra boat, and Mary, Zack, and Danielle decided to paddle behind Scotty and his Spaniard customers… I opted out, since A) I have swimmers ear and B) none of them had seen the river, so we’d basically be turkey boating and guaranteed swimming. The last thing I need is to get sick or have an infection in my swimmers ear.
So here I am…sitting in the common room of the hotel, where I am reading and helping out Patricia when I can. (New Years Day is a holiday as well, so she is alone working here today with her baby who is just over a year).
On a side note, I picked up a copy of Greg Mortenson’s new book, Stones into Schools…which, in my opinion, is actually better than his first book, Three Cups of Tea. Within the first few pages, I have already marked-up several pages worth of great quotes that take me back to Merrie Woode…one of them is an African proverb: “if you teach a boy, you educate an individual; but if you teach a girl, you educate a community.” Another quote that struck a chord was one relating to a young woman whose goal of going to a maternal health care program to help decrease the infant and mother mortality rates was denied by her own stepmother and elders of her community. It took her a decade of picking up sticks and poop to burn for fuel, three births of her own children, and two miscarriages before she was finally allowed to start her school program. Mortenson says, “as for her “lost years,” Nasreen harbors no bitterness whatsoever, mainly because she is convinced that her experiences imparted some essential insights.” After years of (ironically) trying to get out of school, I can say, too, that the extra years I took have given me invaluable experiences, including the one I am living today. Who knows if I would have ever ventured here if it hadn’t been for the worst professor in the world and the idle hand of big university politics?
Our Costa Rican Adventure 2009, I suppose, is only half the battle…the other half was getting here from DC. On New Years Eve, we woke up at 5:30 am to sleet, snow, and freezing rain. Knowing this would make our trip to Dulles even longer, we set out at around 6:00 to catch the metro, which was a half mile away. A half mile is not so long normally, but suited up in jeans, a down jacket, and flip flops, with sleet coming down, and a huge bag on your shoulders, and a half mile might as well be a marathon. We slipped and slid our way through the streets of DC to the Metro, where we traveled 30 minutes by train, only to miss our stop by two (you couldn’t hear the woman over the intercom), turn around, and run up the escalator just in time to “hurry up and wait” for the 5A-West bus to Dulles. After about 25 minutes of standing in the cold and trying to figure out exact change for the bus, the 5A shows up…with little to no room for our mammoth bags…so the bag got the seat and I stood. We bumped along for awhile, before reaching Dulles, where they drop you off at baggage claim, and, bent over with our luggage, we made the final ascent up the escalator to the TACA counter. For those of you who have never flown TACA…I highly recommend it: no baggage fees, warm meals included, open bar…what more could five rafters from West Virginia want? Well…an accurate departure time would have been nice. We got there with about an hour and a half to spare…or so we thought… We found a bagel shop and sat around for awhile until we got a frantic call from Mary, who was sitting on the plane…40 minutes before our 10:08 departure time…and they were making a final boarding call. I never got my cup of Starbucks…which was really sad, since Virginia had given me that Starbucks gift card for Christmas.
We did make it onto our plane…then we de-iced…the reason behind our early departure demystified!
The flight to San Salvador, El Salvador was pretty smooth: a couple drinks, finally a cup of coffee, and a hot meal of Mushroom Pasta, rolls, cheese, and Brownies (apparently they’re not so into salad).
Our landing…was rough.
But it was hot…finally!!
We grabbed a few waters at the airport and then rushed onto our next plane to San José (and yes, we know the way)!
At the airport, there was little difficulty getting through customs, but we weren’t staying in San José, so at 6:00 pm, 12 hours after we began our trip in DC, we set off in Mario’s TURISMO van to Turrialba, home to many of the country’s best whitewater! We made a few stops to get gas, water, snacks, and cervesas, and we climbed up past several volcanoes, into the Telemanca range, where Turrialba sits at about 643 meters…give or take a few. Mario took us straight to the hotel, where he had been so kind as to make us a reservation, which put us in the last 3 rooms in the whole place.
We are now, as of 8:30 pm on New Years Eve, residents of the Hotel Interamericano (www.hotelinteramericano.com). Exhausted, we still needed to eat dinner, so we head out to the streets of Turrialba. Of course, being all Pura Vida and what not, Costa Ricans spend the time leading to the new year with their families. Most everything was closed until midnight, when the clubs open and people party until dawn…I did not make it that far. The five of us wandered around, led by Scotty, who is somewhat of a celebrity around here, until we met up with Omar and his wife, outside of their bar. They invited us in after Scotty convinced them that Mary, Danielle, and I were ladies, not hookers, and that Zack was an upstanding young man. They served up some of the most delicious food I’ve had down here…stewed meat and potatoes, rice and garbanzo beans with pickled onions, and a Pilsen…just what we needed…another drink... and guaro shots for those who had never tried it (thankfully, I already have that check in my book, and probably won’t repeat…at least in shot form…it’s enough to put some hair on your chest. We chatted for awhile, even after they had closed the bar…some of the sweetest people. Apparently they had taken care of Scotty for years during his winter trips down here. At this point, those of us who wanted to head home did…it was Mary and me…party of two dorks who wanted to sleep rather than party after traveling so much!! We are sharing room 11 at the Hotel Interamericano. I read for a bit and watched a few of the fireworks (which actually started on our drive up here from San José) before turning in. Of course, since the party doesn’t start until midnight, we got in bed just in time for the noises to begin.
I have no idea when 2009 ended and 2010 began, but I do know that at one point things got really loud. Since there is no AC in many of the places we stay (keeps the cost of rooms down), a lot of it is just screened in, so you can hear everything. There were fireworks and explosions of all sorts, screaming, singing, and a drum circle right outside of the hotel. Danielle and Zack came in shortly after the New Year began, and Scotty, who has called Turrialba his winter home for many years, crawled in like a local around 5 am.
I got some decent sleep, but I am still fighting off a cold…and a wicked case of swimmers ear…which clogged up during our flight and makes everything sound like I’m stuck underwater. We woke up around 7:30 and found a nearby Mussmani (bakery…mmmm), and brought some bread and coffee home…just in time to find out that Scotty had been called to work on the river. Ah, yes, just like home. Scotty found an extra boat, and Mary, Zack, and Danielle decided to paddle behind Scotty and his Spaniard customers… I opted out, since A) I have swimmers ear and B) none of them had seen the river, so we’d basically be turkey boating and guaranteed swimming. The last thing I need is to get sick or have an infection in my swimmers ear.
So here I am…sitting in the common room of the hotel, where I am reading and helping out Patricia when I can. (New Years Day is a holiday as well, so she is alone working here today with her baby who is just over a year).
On a side note, I picked up a copy of Greg Mortenson’s new book, Stones into Schools…which, in my opinion, is actually better than his first book, Three Cups of Tea. Within the first few pages, I have already marked-up several pages worth of great quotes that take me back to Merrie Woode…one of them is an African proverb: “if you teach a boy, you educate an individual; but if you teach a girl, you educate a community.” Another quote that struck a chord was one relating to a young woman whose goal of going to a maternal health care program to help decrease the infant and mother mortality rates was denied by her own stepmother and elders of her community. It took her a decade of picking up sticks and poop to burn for fuel, three births of her own children, and two miscarriages before she was finally allowed to start her school program. Mortenson says, “as for her “lost years,” Nasreen harbors no bitterness whatsoever, mainly because she is convinced that her experiences imparted some essential insights.” After years of (ironically) trying to get out of school, I can say, too, that the extra years I took have given me invaluable experiences, including the one I am living today. Who knows if I would have ever ventured here if it hadn’t been for the worst professor in the world and the idle hand of big university politics?
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