Costa Rica

King of the Apes, Monteverde
6th May, 2012

TootToot!! What a difference a few good days can make! "Bienvenidos a Costa Rica!!" I've returned from the brink; my mischievous, monkey-like behaviour has once again made a grand comeback for itself. I've spent the last few days enjoying the refreshing mountain air around the small community of Monteverde, soaking up natures serenity & teaching myself to cook. It's the first chance I've had now in the past few weeks to spend some time on my own. As all my fellow comrades push on with their hasty travels in a multitude of various directions, I feel it's nice to get to know a place, and I've grown content with my self imposed manner of movement. I've noticed lots of people choose to skip straight on through Costa Rica; notorious for being much more upmarket & expensive than the rest of Central America, with little to entice the budget conscious backpacker, I wasn't sure what to expect. But as I've come to discover, the rumoured word is no excuse to disregard the unknown as a bleak & characterless canvas before oneself is yet to lay eyes upon it. Sure things here are more pricey, but there are always ways around it. This morning for example, I spent half a day hiking to the summit of the jungle-clad Cerro Amigo; a free, worthy substitute to the nearby cloud forests, which charge a truck load for a similar animal-abounding rain forest experience. On a clear day you can apparently take in views of the distant Volcan Arenal. As a whole, this past week has proved itself as a valuable lesson in self sufficiency & sustainability - not to mention; as another reverent reminder on the theological confidence & stupidity of youth.

Rainforest in Monteverde

"Here comes the sun, doodem doodem..." The batteries are about to run flat on my Ipod, but I savour the moment as the mid-afternoon suns rays poke through a grim/grey yet clearing sky. I was finally on my way to Fortuna along with an increasing accumulation of French Canadians, passing customs with little worry bar getting thrown to the back of the line, one person off reaching the front desk for no apparent reason. Know your place. Simply don't ask questions. There was something completely different going on here in Costa Rica, I had noticed a change the moment I stepped off the boat, yet I still found it hard to pin down exactly. The streets were organised and sweeped clean, shops appeared as legit businesses, and the surrounding farm land vegetation was damp & hydrated like nowhere else I had seen since I'd left home. Life was simply abounding.

We arrived into town late that afternoon, finding refuge in a cheap hostel close to the supermarkets, and cooked up a feast fit for ten to feed the five. 'Cheap living lesson number 1' - "Make friends & cook meals in enormous proportions." It also happened be Doms birthday, so unquestionably we had to celebrate by doing something super cool. This brings me to 'Cheap living lesson number 2' - "Talk to the locals." By talking smack to a few of the chums kicking about the hostel, we soon discovered a number of well known nearby hot-spots where you could enjoy the high life at little to nil exuberant out of pocket expense. Under the cover of darkness, we loaded up a cab with beers, coke & rum and took off 14 kilometres up the road towards Lago Arenal, where we parked by a bridge and clambered on down the bank into the warm, steaming Tabacon river below. A flowing hot springs river!! Attributed with waterfalls and a number of both calm & bubbling tranquil pools. We got drunk bathing in our amazement (even quicker once we'd ran out of coke), before ducking under the waterfall along with the taxi driver and his two whores, to sing happy birthday for Dom in an underground, pitch-black cavern. To top off an already memorable night, our driver dropped us back in town at the late night buffet restaurant, where Dom in his staggering state devoured everything possible up for grabs.

The following day I felt a little off; not due to the alcohol, but more from a lingering stomach bug which had probably been the cause of my recent fatigue. The other lads all went tubing while I spent the morning catching up on rest & delving into my disgusting buildup of dirty laundry. When they all returned, we decided to kill the rest of the day at another local river spot right on the outskirts of town. This place was perfect! Where every kid should dream about spending their childhood summer holidays. Hiding under another bridge was this thundering waterfall, plunging 4-5 meters into a deep pool below. The rocks perched on either side were ideal for long lunging cannon bombs or precariously daunting dives, and on the opposing bank hung a long knotted Tarzan rope from where you could fling yourself from an even greater height. The brave (or stupid in my case) could soon have themselves attempting back flips. I got myself tangled so many times, and to the growing amusement of my collection of onlookers, quickly become bruised & chaffed up entirely on one whole side of my body as a result of my persistency in failure. We were just about to leave when the stomach bug returned in a rising gush of unexpected urgency. Ohh boy...I was in trouble. There was no way I could hold it. I ran upstream before realising that could mean covering my amigos in an unpleasant coating of fecal grime, changing course and dashing over the slippery rocks, desperate to gain enough distance between the wallowing crowd enjoying the river & my foreseen torrential out-pour. Man, I tell you what; I only just made it. Just as I pulled my shorts down past my arse, simultaneously leaping forward over a small rapid to plonk hard into a shallow pool, my insides exploded like a trigger happy, rouge shotgun. Luckily the fast flowing water stopped my liquid stools from hanging out around me, and thankfully I'd picked up the necessary cleaning techniques required for this occasion when travelling through South-East Asia some years back. All was neutral once again. I later promised to let rip on the rope swing if I had the same surge the following day.

Diving into Waterfalls, Fortuna

That night we cooked an even tastier, mouth-watering extravaganza; MaximusAurelius gaining props & browny points as our talented resident master-chief. Later on we chewed tobacco, drank juice & got stoned. It was hilarious to watch the Frenchies slowly lose control of their normally proficient English vocabulary. We practically did the same shit the day after, returning to the rope swing (this time along with our front, side & back flipping German pal, Bel Lo) and revisiting the hot river later on that evening.

An inclination told me it was time to venture on from Fortuna. The Frenchies having returned home, Bel Lo and I made our way along the bumpy road to Santa Elena/Monteverde. In contrast to the arid, barren flats of Nicaragua, this little town was much more pleasant in both temperature & appearance. It seemed as if a circus was in town, so that night we thought we'd head up the hill and check it all out. There was something truly charming about this setup; as if we'd gone back in time 50 years to when folk could find enough entertainment in basic, good-humoured family fun. We got groovy with these two German girls before this gang of crazy Swiss bitches crashed our party. Poor German girls...these fuckwits wouldn't leave them alone. As soon as we would be dancing with them instead, the Swiss chicks would push them out of the way and flick their cigarette butts into the girls faces. Even I wasn't immune to their madness. The worst of the Swiss rode up in my space, then turned full circle and grabbed me by the nuts, before changing her mind to twist both my fucking nipples!! We decided to bail, but the chicks wouldn't take a hint; the night reaching its anti-climax with these three annoying twats in our bed! Never before have I so badly not wanted to double-team three foreign lasses. We invited them out for a "cigarette," before darting back inside our room and locking the door. We were seemingly safe. The next morning, not surprisingly they missed their bus...and after doing so chose to catch a taxi all the way to San Jose!! Stupid, stupid bitches!

Having saved a lot of cash over the past few days, Bel Lo & I felt it was time we treated ourselves; so with that, we signed up for Extremo Canopy Zip-lining!! To be honest I thought this was going to be a little bit gay...imagining it to be one of those lame-arsed "adventure" tourist traps. Man, was I wrong! What a way to get a birds eye, 360 degree view of a lush mountain valley! In a way, it felt like I was flying; narrowly missing the trunks of ancient trees or disappearing into thick coverings of sitting cloud. The tour finished up with an exhilarating one kilometre long 'Superman' cable, powering you along head first 150 meters up in the air. It was all quite the rush, and very much worth the little extra money.

Zip lining in Monteverde

Later on we made our way back to the circus with some others from the tour; the reason being to finally get a chance to see my first real Latin American bullfight!! Now I believe confidence & stupidity go hand in hand...most of the time anyway. It doesn't take long to lose that confidence when you're being stared down by a 950 kilo horned beast. I had to do it. How could I pass up the opportunity. One minute I was enjoying a packet of potato chips safely stowed away in the stands, the next I was standing in a fucking bull ring holding the red cape!! The bull was going mental, kicking wildly in protest to this extravagant, unwanted attention, and he eventually fixed his eyes upon the cape in my hands. No fucking way! Within the first few meters of his charge I was on the bolt, sprinting back across the grass and up into the crowd. That was enough for me, my New Zealand buddy wasn't quite as convinced. He went back out for one final duel, which would almost spell the end of his short time on this wonderful earth. I'm not sure if he forgot, but when he took up the red-cape I sure noticed his red shirt, and I'm guessing so did the big, black bull. As he dropped the cape, the bull didn't even flinch in its flight, instead directing his attention directly at our white, unfortunate gringo warrior. For a moment they were locked in a sickly engagement of suspense. I thought he was done for. The bulls horns scrapped past his forearm before one dug into his left thigh, coming soooo close to depriving him forever of his man-hood. Somehow he managed to break away! I don't think I've ever seen someone run that fast, leaping up like a gazelle to join me there in the stands, shaking uncontrollably with adrenaline. Of course the crowd LOVED it!! The anticipated moment of dread, breaking into a monstrous hoard of applause. All props went to NZ that night. It's not every day you can say you've done battle with a bull, copped a horn blow and still managed to come out (kind of) on top.

Here is my bull!!!

So until next time my fellow thrill-seeking computer chair adventurers, I hope this serves as an example of how the ups & downs of life seem to pan out. Tomorrow only gets better. Amazing shit hides around every next corner. No seriously, what would I know...do not try this at home kids. You're just gonna have to come visit. Life is fucking wicked, that is all I have to say. Let's hope I survive until then. Happy, happy days!!!

Much dormant lovin' from Costa Rica!!
Rafiki xxx