Saturday August 7th

Alright people, time to get caught up…I am 12 days behind, writing this on the plane from San Jose to Miami, from the notes I took along the way. After my last day at Habitat, and the presentation of all my work from the past two months to the entire office – and the word that all of the countries within Central America have purchased all 1000 of the safety posters and pocket cards that I designed, and that another 800 were being ordered, it seemed appropriate to go out and celebrate a little. So after packing my backpack for my big trip, I headed out and met Wes, Marco, Diana, Jade and Katie for several pitchers of beer. We gossiped and shared stories from the past two months, did some quality people watching, and got into some deep conversations about feelings of patriotism. Like Marco (a Phillipino) and Wes (another American), I struggle with the fact I am an American citizen sometimes…this feeling overcomes me at home, but more often when I am abroad…probably because I am much more conscious of being an American when in a foreign country. It is also a little doubly conflicting for me because of being born in England, and having to consciously choose my citizenship at 18. While I support and believe in the ideals that America is built on, I do not support the current government, and I do not agree with the way that international policy is currently being conducted. Sometimes this makes me feel Anti-American…other times it just makes me glad to be an American and have the right to feel and express those dissentions. It is a conscious act on my part when abroad to impress upon as many people as I can that just because I am American does not automatically mean that I agree with, or even support my government. I attempt to change the stereotype of the “ugly American” one friend at a time…and hope that those impressions can create a more positive image of American people opposed to other American travelers, who are not conscious of cultural differences, and often expect other cultures to be the same or similar to the way they live their lives at home – and they treat people with disdain when their expectations are not fulfilled. Anyway – this is a topic I could write my thesis on, but since this is a chronology of my travels I will get back to the task at hand…woke up at 5:15 am Saturday morning after the night celebrating the successful conclusion of my work at Habitat…and fought a hangover to the bus stop to catch the 6:30 am bus to Monteverde to visit Max jr, and see one of the most unique environments in Costa Rica – the cloud forests. The first two hours of the bus ride were the normal trip along the Pista (the Costa Rican section of the TransAmerican highway)…until we turned off onto a rugged dirt road and began the winding ascent into the greenest mountains I have ever seen (I guess that’s why the literal translation of Monteverde is just that – green mountain). As we reached higher altitudes the vegetation adjusted, and when panoramic views were available I was able to see every shade of green that nature has created, all of it woven together in an unending tapestry of evolving color. The road remained rocky, and strewn with potholes, and we passed more then one truck that was pulled over fixing a flat or waiting for help with some other automotive malady. Thankfully I had a window seat on a nice comfortable bus, with a big engine that had no trouble with the climb. When I finally arrived at Monteverde around noon, I pulled my pack on my back, and set out to find a hostel…but settled on a El Banco hotel…which was the best available deal for $10 a night…nothing special, but all I needed was a bed and shower, and a door with a lock. So I ditched my bag and began the hike to meet up with Max jr. I walked up and down some rolling hills on the now familiar rugged dirt roads constantly asking directions in Spanish for Escuela de Amigos – where I was supposed to meet Max to play some ball. After 5 km, and a sweaty hour later I finally found the school, and as was to be expected, Max was no where in sight. :o) Like any good traveler I was loving the journey and not intent upon the destination, or arriving anything close to “on time”. So I began backtracking thinking where I saw the nearest public phone. It just happened to be about a km down the road at the Monteverde Cheese Factory (Muy Quesico – what up wes and ani ;o) Got in touch with Max and got some bad directions…so I wandered around looking for his apartment (which was behind a house) a few km away from where I was stumbling around. I walked into several small driveways, yelling out his name, and his girlfriend Lorraines name…but no luck. In one of the driveways I stumbled onto a group of howler monkeys in the trees above me, and hung out watching them for a while, before retreating back to the main road and admitting defeat and finding another phone and calling Max again. In the end I happened to be right outside of the café where he works and which Lorraine manages, so Max said to just chill for a few minutes and he would come pick me up and we would grab a coffee. At the coffee shop (which is a growers co-op) Max makes me his special (that I am so jealous he gets to wake up to each day)…it consists of two layers of milk, one frothed up like a cappuchino, the other warm on the bottom of the mug, to which he adds 2 double shots of freshly ground, and freshly made espresso. After the long bus ride, the hike to the school and my wandering meanders around the driveways of various Monteverde residents…this cup of joe was a little piece of heaven. Re-energized, we hopped in Max’s truck a Suzuki something or other, and proceeded to bounce around in the cab for a tour of the town. After passing the Habitat office, we came to a friend of Max’s that runs a soccer equip store/soda/bar all in one room of a building right across from a pristine green soccer field. And of course what do you find in such a place? But some of the best Sangria this side of Spain. So we sat down for a drink and chatted with the owner for a bit. Soon after we were back in the Suzuki and bouncing across town to pick up some beers at the Supermercado, and head back to Max’s place to check on the all day stew he had simmering on the stove. After chilling, listening to some toons, and exchanging stories Max girlfriend, Lorraine and her friend from California, Ami arrived and we started watching the DVD’s of Chappells Show, and chowing down on the phenomenal stew…and of course still drinking the brews. Eventually we were joined by Max friend Juliano…and we headed out for an interesting evening at a cozy little restaurant up in the hills called Dancing Shiva. The entertainment that night was this insane band called Chalan Rasa…comprised of two Columbians and a Tico. They utilized a diverse array of instruments to generate a unique sound. A simple jazz drumset provided the backbone; the guy in the middle sometimes played the Timbales – a set of two different sized Indian drums, and other times played the Sitar…and the other guy was either on the Birimbau (the Brazilian gourd instrument, with a single string that is stretched tight over a long curved stick and struck with a small wooden stick and the tone is changed by using a rock to change the length and oscillation of the string)…and other times he played an Australian dijereedoo. In any case it was an amazing, hypnotic sound that contorted the air and sent the attentive listener on a melodic, rhythmic journey. After their first set we migrated to an outside table where Max had ordered up an Apple flavored hookah, which was surprisingly delicious, especially considering my distaste for tobacco. With the windows open we were able to hear the remainder of the 2 sets that evening, and chilled outside with our beers and the hookah, making friends and chatting with the locals, and later on with the band when they were finished playing. Eventually we transitioned back to Max’s place, and he threw in a Peter Gabriel DVD…which I had very low expectations for, but that turned out to be a pretty impressive piece of entertainment. Somewhere around 1:30 or 2 in the morning I hit the road, and stumbled back in the dark (no streetlights) joyously tripping in potholes and laughing the whole way on the 15 minute walk back to El Banco hotel…where I needed to kill a large spider hanging over my bed before I felt comfortable sliding into my canvas hostel sleeping bag and gloriously wrapping up an amazingly long, but fun-filled first day on the road.