A bit of what I've been up to the past three months

So its been quite a while since my last post so let me tell you a little bit about what has been going on.  

 

1. TEFL: I spent a week in Manuel Antonio finishing up my Teaching English as a Foreign Language certification.  Awesome week! It was great hanging out with gringos for a few days.  Excited that I am now certified to teach english in any county.  

2. My birthday: My host family had a party for me and all of the other October birthdays in my house.  Then went over to a friends house for karaoke, cake, and presents.  I wasn't expecting presents this year, but was defiantly surprised when they gave me a brand-new Nike polo shirt.  It was defiantly one of the nicest things anyone has done for me this year. 

3. My brother Mark came for a visit:  We traveled around together for ten days; surfing, relaxing, and having fun.  He was the first family member I had seen in almost 10 months and I can’t tell you how nice it was seeing him and spending time together.   

4. Quick trip to the US: At the beginning of November I flew to New Orleans to attend my college roommate’s (Alex and Lindsay) wedding.  I experienced an intense, albeit short, bout of culture shock while on my layover in Dallas.  The craziest part was turning on my cell phone for the first time since I left.  I had over 40 messages! The wedding was an absolute blast.  It was awesome seeing my college friends, it had been well over a year since we had seen each other.  Got my fix of warm showers, good food, TV, fast internet, and the general easiness of the states.  

My brother’s visit and the short trip to the states definitely made me realize that I’m ready to move back to the US.  I’ve had my fix of the small town lifestyle and I’m ready for new things.  I’m ready to make money, see my friends, and be an  again among many other things.  

5. End of Service Meetings:  Thanksgiving weekend we had our WorldTeach end of the year meetings at the OTIAC Spanish School in Orosi, the same place where our training took place. Tomas, the owner of the school, agreed to cook a Thanksgiving meal for us.   Tomas, being dutch, had no idea what thanksgiving was let alone how to cook a turkey. So we were a little bit skeptical about how the meal was going to turn out.  However after a few hours of watching youtube videos on proper turkey preparation and researching T-giving on the internet he came through with an amazing meal. Some of the end-of-the-weekend goodbyes where harder than others. Luckily I’ll be meeting up with the eight or so people I’ve been closest with this year one last time before we all leave.  I’m expecting these goodbyes to be much harder.  

The costa rican school year doesn’t really have an official end date, it just kind of just fizzles out.  When I arrived back in Vergel after Thanksgiving I was relieved to find that classes had already really started wind down and that kids were starting not to show up.  The last 2 weeks I have hardly taught at all.  This has caused my boredom to reach new heights.  I spent 3 hours yesterday finishing off two coloring books.  Luckily only 13 days left!  See you all soon.   

El mes de la patria

September is the most important month of the year for Costa Ricans. It is El mes de la Patria, Patriotism month, and the 16th is their independence day.  All month long they celebrate their national pride with parades, neighborhood parties, and fireworks. Everywhere you look there Costa Rican flags hanging.  It is much like the month of July in the United States.

September was also a big milestone for me.  It marked the 2/3 point of my time here in CR (only 4 more months), as well as my one year mark in Latin America (8 months in CR and 4 in Chile).  

One year is a long time to have spent in Latin America and to have never been to any type of soccer game; national team, club team, amateur, AYSO, foosball-- nothing.  So I decided I was well overdue to experience one.  Luckily, on the 5th of September the Costa Rican sele was scheduled to play against Mexico.  I decided this would be the perfect opportunity for me to pop my futbol cherry.    

For weeks prior to kick off, costa rica was caught up in news surrounding the game.  The thousands of fake tickets circulating, the recent success of the both teams against the likes of the US and other powers in the region, and their hopes to make the World Cup.  

A few hours before kick off my friend Dan and I got ourselves ready with a little “Girl Talk” dance party and some liquid spirit in our hotel room (we’re huge dorks).  Then we jumped into a taxi and headed to the game.  On the way over, our taxi driver explained to us how important the game was.  He said that if Costa Rica looses, and the United States wins, then Costa Rica would be in fourth place in region and would most likely have to play a repechage match against the fifth place team in the extremely strong South American region in order qualify for the World Cup.    

  

As soon as we arrived at Estadio Ricardo Saprisa we walked up to the first street vendor we saw and bought two tri color jerseys.  Now looking like true Costa Rican fans we made our way up towards the entrance, and missed getting run over by Oscar Arias’ (President of Costa Rica) motorcade by mere inches.  

After a seres of security check pat-downs and “can I smell what’s in your water bottles”-- we finally got our first look inside the 23,000 person stadium. The stadium was built vertically, and the stands seem to hang right over the field, I couldn’t believe how close the lower seats were to the action, no more than fifteen feet from the end lines. The upper sections were filled with Mexico green and the rest of the stadium was a covered in a blanket of red.  We found some seats in the top corner of the stadium behind one of the goals.  Probably the worst seats in the place, but the way the stadium was built it didn’t make for bad viewing at all.  

The atmosphere in the stadium prior to kick off was electric. The crowd took part in a seres of Costa Rican fight songs and chants, and it didn’t take Dan or I long to pick up the words.  In between songs the crowed scream obscenities at small group of Mexican fans just below us.  We decided that we only heard about a 20 different words the entire time we were there, most of them cuss words and a few others having to do with some kid of a gripe going around in Mexico right now.    

During the first half of the game the Ticos, who were caught up in the patriotic sprit of the month and the importance of the game, were itching for any little thing to cheer about.  However, La sele had a hard time getting anything going and gave up a goal one minute before half time.  Once the second half started it was obvious that some of the air had been taken out of the stadium.  Mexico got two beautiful counter attack goals after failed corner kick attempts by Costa Rica, and that was it.  The cowed started making their way towards the exits.  I felt pretty bad for the Tico fans, they defiantly felt like their team let them down.  La sele didn’t even give them one legitimate thing to cheer for.  A breakaway, a close shot, a juke, anything would have sufficed, but it never came. Mexico dominated.    

I was very impressed with the Mexican fans.  I know it was probably only the most diehard fans that made the trip to CR for the game, but i couldn’t get over how crazy they were.  Most of them were completely decked out in goofy mexican gear and were equipped with all kinds of horns and other noise makers.  They didn’t sit down once the entire game and even controlled the stadium at a few points with their cheers of MEXICO... MEXICO.  After the game ended and everyone had left the stadium, the mexicans stuck around singing songs and applauding their teams performance.  

Dan and I spilled out of the stadium into the street with the rest of the crowd.  It took us half an hour to find a taxi because of the packed sidewalk and near fight we got into with a bum who wouldn’t leave us alone.  

The night was capped off while Dan and I were laying in bed recapping our first professional soccer match and watching TV.  We were just about to fall asleep when our room started to shake.  We looked at each other thinking “is the room spinning because of all the guaro we drank tonight, or was that an earthquake?”   

When I look back at my first soccer match years from now I don’t think Ill remember the goals that were made or anything that happened on the field.  I think what I’ll remember most is the hour or so I spent before the game singing and cheering on La sele with a group of happy Ticos, and feeling the amount of pride they had for their county.  

The next morning, despite the loss and the earthquake, most of the Ticos didn’t seem too sad. They jumped right back into their happy, pura vida way of life pretty quickly.  Maybe it was the month of parties and parades they had to look forward to.  

El Vergel

I realized that I have been writing a lot about what I do on the weekends and my time away from El Vergel.  This was done more subconsciously than anything,  because other than some porch lounging and farming, not too much usually goes on here.  But let me tell you about what has happened here the past few months, and about some of the people whom I’m close with.  

El Vergel has gone through somewhat of a boom in growth this past year.  And I think now Vergel can be classified as a pueblo.  Before this year I wouldn’t have even consider it to have reached that status. It was that small.  It was essentially a tiny collection of houses (only about 5 or 6) and a school plopped on the side of the Pan-American highway. 

At the end of 2008 a government housing project started, and a group of Nicaraguans have been building homes in Vergel ever since.  Over the past few months 15 or so brand new homes have been built.

The gov't housing, escuela vergel, and my house

In January 09 alone El Vergel saw more growth than it ever has.  A second pulperia was built (which provides sweets to the school kids, and me with an abundance of headaches), two pay phones were installed, and a satellite dish was put on top of the school’s comedor (the CR ministry of education plans on having all schools online by 2010) which supplies wireless internet through much of the town.  Furthermore, this March a new classroom was built for the Borucan culture/crafts class, and they are currently in the process of building a Pre-K classroom.  

My host family has also been getting in on the growth.  This year alone they have purchased, a new computer monitor, a digital camera, and even a laptop computer-- and they are now learning to use internet and email.  Vergel has defiantly come a long way since 08. 

 

I couldn’t even imagine living in El Vergel without internet or phones.  Messing around online defiantly takes up a chunk of my day and getting a phone call from a fellow volunteer every now and then is exciting. I defiantly have a lot of respect for the three Teachers, Joe, Alex, and Radford, who were here before me.  I’m defiantly living large compared to them.  

Vergel’s tiny size has defiantly been the root of some of my frustrations this year.  It has been difficult for me to adjust to a small town lifestyle.  Other than a few Sunday afternoon majengas, pickup soccer games, and biannual BINGO fundraisers there are absolutely no social functions in Vergel.  I’m defiantly jealous when I go visit other volunteers and find out that they have dances, karaoke nights, and cantinas where they can meet people and socialize.     

Luckily for me, though, I have my friend Jeremy just up the road in Rey Curre.  In comparison to Vergel, Curre is like New York City, Los Angeles and, Disneyland put together.  They have bailes, mask-carving classes, TV, dance lesson, “real” pulperias (that actually sell stuff other than rice, beans and toothpaste), and even get a few gringos every now and then. The closets thing to a gringo in Vergel is a rental car full of tourists speeding down the Pan-American highway on their way to one of the nearby beaches.   So after I have checked my email for the 10,000th time and gotten bored counting the trucks drive by the highway I usually head up to Curre for a visit.     

Before coming here, I had a pretty good idea that I wouldn’t really have problems living a simple lifestyle and that I really don’t need much to be happy.  I have become perfectly accustom to eating the same meal everyday (rice and beans), the cold-- sometimes bucket-- showers, and the lack of other modern convinces like TV and video games.  Surprisingly, I don’t miss watching TV one bit-- well... maybe sportscenter just a little.     

(Note: Some other things I miss-- playing piano, ice cubes, good plumbing, cold weather, carpet, playing water polo, Mexican food, swimming.)

I have defiantly been a bit bipolar with my opinion of Vergel this year.  I either love it, even so much so that I consider staying another year, or I absolutely hate it and can’t wait for the next bus to pass so I can get the heck out.  Much of my unhappiness has to do with my living situation.  My family is very nice but isn't particularly talkative and can be extremely difficult to engage in conversation sometimes.  This really bothered my for a while but I have since gotten use to it.  Living in a house with eight people and one bathroom isn't exactly fun either.  However, the good defiantly out weighs the bad.  

Miguel ready for work

I really enjoy my host Dad, Miguel.  He is an extremely loving and affectionate father and the little ones (Quito and Melissa) absolutely adore him.  He’s always giving them kisses and calling them mi amor.   He’s also super funny and even reminds me of my real Dad sometimes. Unfortunately Miguel has to work a lot. He is a police officer in the nearby town of Buenos Aries and is only home four out of every eleven days.  When he is home though the house is much more pleasant and lively.  He hangs out all day with his shirt off cracking jokes, dancing around, and playing with the kids.  He’s a big goofball.  Miguel is also a great cook (very unlike my Dad in this sense). He is a much better cook than my host mother and makes every meal when he is home.  He knows how to say a couple words in english and loves to show them off after he hands me a plate of food-- chicken... rice... pig.  Sometimes just to get a laugh out of me he’ll pat his big belly and say “sexy”.  Its gets me every time.  

Miguel and my host mother, Eliza, hitting the pinata

Some of my other favorites...

My host brother, Juan Pablo (18), is one of my favorites and not just because we share the same name.  Pablo has a very active personality, much like me.  I can tell that he notices I get really bored sometimes, so he invites me to go along with him on his activities.  Surprisingly, there’s a decent amount to do in Vergel; play soccer, go for bike rides, swim in the river, fish, shoot the pellet gun, go cow tipping, throw stuff off the bridge.  The list goes on and on.  Pablo is also very hard worker and very smart. He gets almost perfect scores in all of his classes and really understands the importance of education, which is something a surprisingly large number of people here don’t quite get.  However, Pablo’s ambitions out weigh his smarts, if his dream of becoming a professional soccer player doesn't work out he plans on going to college.   

Jody (15), my host cousin, is a lot like Pablo.  He is also very smart and ambitious. He works at the new pulperia during the day and goes to high school at night.  Jody defiantly impressed me when he realized that the pulperia isn’t a great place to work; he  told me he hardly makes any money and wastes a lot of time sitting around doing nothing. Next year he plans on getting a real job in the nearby town of Palmar. Jody seems pretty grownup for a 15 year old, however he is very much of a kid at heart. He loves watching cartoons and still thinks that farting the funniest 

thing in the world.  Jody is also much more talkative than most of my family.  So we spend a good amount of time hanging out on the porch or playing soccer together.  

Left to right; Miguel, Negro, and Jody

Pablo and Jody defiantly are unique compared to a lot of people their age.  So many people between the ages of 16 and 25 approach life very passively and apathetically.  A lot of them sit around all day doing absolutely nothing and many have even accepted the fact that they’ll just end up being farmers and have dropped out of school.  These two have defiantly been a breath of fresh air.

Diego (22) has been best friend to all the volunteers in Vergel (me included) and is one of the most ridiculous people I have ever met.  Diego works at the local pulperia and teaches first communion classes in the church.  When I arrived in Vergel Diego spent most of his days pacing around Vergel looking for something to do or someone to talk to.  He liked to practice his English every chance he could and even wanted to move to the United States.  He has since give that up and has now dedicated himself to learning everything he can about Mexico.  Diego doesn’t even consider himself to be Tico.  He thinks he is mexican.  Now, he paces around Vergel singing the mexican national anthem and showing off his mexican dichos, slangs.  “Super padrisimoooo weeee” is his favorite.  Like I said, he’s ridiculous.  

Quito and Melissa.  My host brother (8) and sister (10).  Living with these two has taught me what it’s like to be an older brother.  I’ve learned how fun, and also how annoying it can be.  

Quito drove me nuts a the beginning of the year. Whenever we played together he’d end up getting really angry (usually for no reason) and start calling me names.  “Donkey Viejo” was his favorite.  Whenever I heard Donkey Viejo come out of his mouth I knew I must have done something horribly wrong and that a temper tantrum was coming soon. The name didn’t really bother me too much. I actually though it was pretty clever/funny, and at least he learn something from my lesson on animals.  Quito has done a lot of growing up the past few months and now we get along great. We roughhouse all day long without problems and I must admit it’s a lot of fun having a little brother around to torture.  And for some reason, even after eight months, Quito has a hard time pronouncing my name.  He calls me Jonk. Jale a jugar Jonk!!   Lets go play John!!

Melissa defiantly inherited all the family’s talking genes.  She doesn’t shut up.  Which isn't necessarily a bad thing.  Melissa also loves to eat, all day long she’s munching of something.  Her older brothers are constantly making fun of her.  They call her names like chancho, vaca.  Luckily though she also has really good sense of humor and dishes it right back at them calling them “bones” and “skeleton”.  Melissa is shameless when it comes to talking, usually whatever is on her mind comes out of her mouth, which has been a good and bad thing for me this year.  She has no problem telling me “hey tonto stop walking through the house with you shoes on”, or “do all gringos slam doors as hard as you.”  She was nice to have around when I was adjusting to life here because she was the only one who would tell me when I was doing something wrong.  The rest of the family was much too quiet.  However, she can get irritating sometimes.  Melissa has just recently started calling me her “empleo” and has even taken it has far as “esclavo”. She’ll half-jokingly say “John your my employee do my chores for me and cook me some lunch, Im hungry!”  

Most nights Melissa and I eat dinner together at the kitchen counter.  Melissa was very good at speaking clearly and slowly with me at the beginning of the year and didn't have any problem correcting me when I made mistakes.  I think I have improved my spanish more with her than anyone else.  

I spend more time hanging out and talking with Quito and Melissia then anyone else in Vergel.  I’m at school with them all day, and at night all the boys (Pablo, Jody, Diego, and Negro my other host brother who’s 28 yrs old) go to colegio-- high school-- so Quito and Melissa are the only ones around to hangout with.    

Thanks for listening of me ramble on for 2,000 words about my pueblo.  I hope it gives you a better understanding of what my life is like here in Vergel.  

Hasta luego  

P.S.   I tried to put more pictures up of my family and town but my CR internet is having a hard time with blogger.  Check back later if you want to see more. 

Loosing Things

I have lost a good amount of weight since my arrival to Costa Rica.  I think somewhere between 15 and 20 pounds.  I attribute my weight loss to a few things.  First, my diet.  Switching from a college student’s diet to the diet of the 3rd world country defiantly took a few inches off my waist. Instead of eating burritos and 2:30AM and drinking three nights a week, I eat a diet of almost purely rice and beans and only get served food when it’s meal time.  And yes I am hungry a lot.  The second cause of my weight loss is sweating.  It is always hot in Vergel. and it’s not the dry type heat that I was used to in Arizona, its a wet, muggy, jungle heat.    

The combination of my weight loss and the nonexistence of dryers here has caused many of my cloths to stop fitting properly. My pants especially is where I’ve noticed the biggest difference.  I officially had to go up a loop in my belt.

The problem with my weight loss/clothes got me into a little bit of trouble on one of my recent trips to Dominical.  It was a typical Sunday afternoon.  The sun was out, the beach was packed, and the waves were big and powerful.  I decided to go out for a quick surf before the US and Brazil went at it in the final of the Confederations Cup final later in the afternoon.    

The waves were good and I caught a few really fun rides.  It was however when on one of my paddle outs that my troubles began.  I duck dove under a wave and on my way up to the surface I felt my shorts slide down a little bit. I didn’t have time to pull them up before the next wave came, so I duck dived it leaving them where they were.  This time on my way up to the surface my shorts fell completely off.  They didn’t stop down around my ankles, they fell completely off.  I was laying on my board totally bare-assed and there was another wave coming toward me that I was going to need to get under.  Rather than trying to duck-dive again, and moon the entire beach in the process, I decided to ditch my board, swim down, and try to fish out my shorts.  Luckily I found them down around my leash.  I untangled them and pulled them back on all the while trying to dodge the big waves breaking in front of me.  I paddled back out to the line up happy that I didn’t have to give the crowded beach too much of a show. 

I tied my shorts as tight as they would go and kept surfing.  It was however only a few minutes later when I found myself in almost the exact same position; in the water, naked, trying to find my pants.  I fished them out and pulled them back on.  As I was treading water tying to tie the drawstring a wave came.  I dove down under it, and just as I reemerged on the other side I felt my leash snap off my ankle.  

I swam the 50 yards or so to the beach and when I arrived I couldn’t find my board anywhere.  I signaled to my friend Jeremy, who was sitting under a palm tree if he saw it wash ashore.  He pointed over to the lifeguard tower and gave me a little applause. Not really understanding what the applause was about, I walked over to the lifeguard tower and saw my board lying there broken into two pieces.

The board had a huge buckle in it and I new that it was going to break sometime soon, I was actually surprised it lasted as long as it did, so I didn’t feel too bad about it.  Two little kids came up to me and asked it they could have the board.  I knew it was going to be way too expensive to fix it so I gave them the broken pieces.

The Confederations Cup final was about to start so me and some friends went to our favorite beach-side bar to watch it.  Jeremy bought me a beer to ease my pain and we spent the rest of the afternoon watching the game.   The bar was packed with Americans and Brazilians so I’m sure you could imagine the atmosphere was pretty exciting.  Unexpectedly, the US took a 2-0 lead over world-number-one Brazil in the first half.  Jeremy, who is a huge soccer fan, and I ended up getting a little too excited and ordering a few too many drinks.  But thats another story.  

I wish I could have broken my board doing something cool- like pulling into a ginormous close out barrel, or landing wrong after boosting a huge air.  But  my weight loss and stretched out shorts denied me of that.  Oh well.  At leas it was only a board and a leash that were permanently lost and not my pants.   

Post Vacations

Nothing too exciting has happened since I returned to Vergel after our July vacations. Anyhow, here is a little bit about what’s been going on the past few weeks.  

(Note: I think I’ve been scaring my mother a little bit too much with my stories about run ins with crocodiles, police, and big waves (sorry ma), so Ill save some stories from my vacation for a later time.  Also, in case you were wondering TIco means Costa Rican.)  

The first Wednesday back after vacations my WorldTeach boss, Leilani, came to El Vergel to observe me teach.  I was a little bit nervous about this especially because Wednesdays I have 3rd grade, and 3rd grade means Carlitos.  Carlitos is by far the most hyper and poorly behaved student in the school.  I was praying he would 

behave and not embarrass me in front of my boss.  But, of course, he did. 

During class we were playing one of Carlitos’ favorite games, airplanes.  Carlitos called one of the girls in the class a bad name and she punched him in the face.  Both of them were put on a time out.  Carlitos couldn’t stand sitting out while the rest of the class played his favorite game and ended up having a complete breakdown.  He started crying, screaming, and rolling around on the floor.  It was awful and very embarrassing, but just another day at Escuela Vergel.  

Leinani made me feel a little bit better about the Carlitos situation and told me that I handled it well and I defiantly had better control of the kids then any of the past volunteers did.  Although I do enjoy teaching more now than I did in the beginning of the year, the kids do still drive me nuts sometimes.  

My first weekend back after vacations turned out to be pretty fun.  My host brother, Pablo, asked me if I wanted to go with him down to the boarder so he could do some shopping.  He said there was a market there that sold chunche (stuff) for really cheap.  Being a Sunday and having nothing to do I said claro.  The boarder isn't too far from Vergel, only about an hour and a half.  So at around eight in the morning Pablo and I jumped on a bus for Pasa Canoas, a small town on the Tico side of the boarder with Panama.   

Pasa Canoas is exactly how you’d picture a typical Central American boarder town. It’s dirty-- full of poverty, half finished buildings, and crime.  So I was a little bit skeptical about the legitimacy of this “shopping” we were about to do.  I pictured the place as a sort of out door flee market, where one could bargain for suspicious merchandise from shady salesmen.  

So after a quick stop at bank, I followed Pablo through the crowded streets of Canoas up to where the market was.  I had no idea where we were going, and kept thinking “where the heck is this place” because since arriving I hadn’t see anything even closely resembling a market.  

I stayed right behind Pablo as we dodged a few last street beggars, then Pablo made a sharp turn down a dark ally.  The ally was so tight I had to turn myself sideways just to fit in it.  Again I was thinking “where the HELL is he taking me? we’re going to robbed and murdered here!”  Then it appeared. And I couldn’t believe my eyes. We popped out on the other side of the ally into a long corridor packed with people. The corridor was impeccably clean, everyone was wearing expensive brand-name clothing (Polo, Loccoste), and there was even AIR CONDITIONING!!!   WHat?!! The market was totally legitimate.  One side of the corridor was lined with small mom n pop type tiendas, and on the other large two-story department stores that sold everything, and I mean everything!  Bathtubs, plasma screens, brand name clothing, birdcages, shoes, sports equipment. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was like we stepped into another world!  I felt like Harry Potter stepping on to Diagon Ally for the first time.  It was surreal!  

Pablo and I spent the next few hours shopping around.  Pablo ended up buying a pellet gun (which he says he’s going to use to protect our mamon trees from birds but I really think he just likes to shoot stuff), a couple pairs of shoes, and a zip drive.  I wasn’t even planing on buying anything, I was just along for the ride.  But I found that the pric

es we so low that I couldn’t afford not to.  I ended up buying a pair of pair of Reef flip flops for $12. a Croatian soccer jersey (something I had been searching for for 2 years and in 3 different countries) for only $4. 

I later found out that all the merchandise was once on its way to Panama but couldn’t pass the boarder for whatever reason and ended up in those stores. Shopping was defiantly a cool experience I think I’m going to go back sometime in December to buy some Christmas presents.  

The only other thing that i can really report on is that have a new favorite food, mamones.  I thought that after avocado season ended I wouldn’t have any new harvests to look forward to, however one good thing about living in Vergel is that almost every month some new fruit or vegetable starts sprouting.  I absolutely love this about Vergel

, and I absolutely love mamones.  

            Avocado and mamones (upper right corner)

In case you have never heard of a mamon before, a mamon is a small neon-colored fruit about the size of a golfball.  They are most commonly yellow and purple but can also be red, blue, green or a mix of those colors.  On the outside there a thick, spike-covered rind, and Inside there is a tasty white fruit wrapped around a pit.  To me they taste like super sweet grapes.  

Mamones are just as tasty and cool to look at as they are fun to eat.  In order to eat a mamon you have to rip open one end of the shell (or you can be like a true tico and bite it open), pull the fruit with your teeth, suck the fruit off the pit, then spit out the pit. 

Eating mamones is a great activity for porch lounging (vergel’s favorite activity), as they provide for an endless possibility of games, which is really good because since april when my family cut off the TV, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group of people so bored.  So anything that can be made into a game or some kind of entertainment is good thing. Some of my favorite games include seed spitting contests, rind toss into a wast basket contests, juggling contests, and who can fit the most mamones in their mouth at once contest (Melissa usually wins this one). 

Thats all for now. Hope you enjoy reading.   

Bigfoot and Balls of Poop

El Vergel is just one of the many tiny pueblos on the Borucan Indigenous reserve.  Borucans are a very kind and welcoming people who believe strongly in their sense of family and community.  They are also deeply invested in preserving their culture, language, and customs.  I feel very lucky to have been place here in El Vergel because its given me, not only, a chance to learn about Costa Rican culture but also the Boucan.  I like to ask my family about the history and the customs of the area and their people.  In doing this I have learned that, like many other indigenous tribes, Borucans are very superstitious.  They believe and all kinds of mythical beings and spirits.  

From the first day I arrived Vergel I started hearing stories. Stories about witches that sneak out of the mountains and rob people at sunset,  trolls that take on the form of people and kidnap children, and my favorite, the Hombre Peludo, who lives in the river behind my house and kills people that try to go swimming at night. 

Late one afternoon my family and I took a trip up the mountain to the town of Bouca to visit some relativ

es.  Most of us were riding in the bed of the pickup truck when we stopped to pick up a hitch hiker.  As the man jumped in the back with us and I could tell he was extremely disturbed by something.  My host mother asked him what was wrong and he told us that he had just seen the Hombre Mono (I guess thats like the Costa Rican version of Bigfoot).  The man seemed legitimately scared for his life and was tremendously thankful that we stopped to pick him up.  My host mother tried her best to comfort him until we reached town.  I found the whole thing pretty ridiculous and tried to keep a straight face for the remainder of the ride. 

I have heard dozens of these stories, each one more dubious than the next.  However the Borucans, absolutely 110% believe that they are true.    

There was one story, however, my host brother Pablo told me that I didn’t find entirely absurd and actually did give me a little bit of a fright.  The story was about the first WorldTeach volunteer in Vergel in 2006, Joe.  I had heard a little bit about Joe in the past and knew that he left after only six months because of a death in his family.  However Pablo told me the “real” reason he left.  

Just before Joe arrived the family added a small room to the side of the house that would be the new cuarto de teachers (teachers room).  Joe moved in and got settled. A little while after arriving his girlfriend came out for a visit and ended up staying for a few months.  Shortly after she arrived was when the trouble with the brujas (witches) started.  Supposedly, one night all the stray dogs in the area decided to sleep right outside Joe’s room, like they were protecting him from something. Then at some point in the middle of the night they all got up and chased something over to his classroom barking the entire way, and remained there barking for thirty to fourty-five minutes.  When Joe arrived at his classroom early the next morning he was met with a unexpected surprise. He found perfectly round circles of feces, about the size of baseballs, scattered all over the floor of his classroom.  The door to the classroom was closed exactly the way he had left it the night before, it was obvious that no one had opened it.   

This exact same scenario was repeated night after night at exactly the same time. The only difference being that the balls of feces would rotate between the floor, Joes desk, and the blackboard.  The family was convinced that one of the many brujas in the area was haunting Joe.  The last straw came one morning while Joe and his girlfriend were still lying in bed.  They heard the soft knock on their door and bruja calling out Joe’s name, Jooooee, Jooooeee, Jooooeee.  This really freaked everyone out and my host mother decided it was time to take action.  She made crosses out of banana leaves and put then on all the doors entering the house to scare away the evil spirits. And sure enough they did the trick; the dogs stopped sleeping outside el cuarto de teachers, the feces stopped appearing in the classroom, and the bruja stopped haunting Joe.

However, the crosses weren’t enough to suppress Joes fear and he moved back to the states shortly thereafter.  

My host mother became really worried when she found out that Pablo told me about the brujas.  She feared that I might get scared and want to leave too.  She reassured me that she has take many precautions to keep the brujas away, including making the teachers sleep in a different room, placing rosaries on the doors, and calling in Fathers Merriin and

karras to preform an exorcism (just kidding about that last one).  Since Joe left no one has spent the night in the cuarto de teachers.

I don’t know exactly how much of this story is true, and if I had to guess, I’d say not very much of it.  I say this because I know first hand how gossip can spread in a small town like Vergel, and how easily little things can get blown out of proportion.  However, I have to admit this story did scare me slightly more than any of the others I’ve hear so far.  Its also made me slightly more of a believer in the Borucan Folklore.   

Dominical

Many weekends I take a short bus trip just up the cost  to a little surf town called Dominical.  This is one of my favorite places to go because its ease of accessibility , laid back atmosphere, and good waves. It’s known in the surfing world as the Puerto Escondido of Costa Rica because its big, powerful, hollow, and great for tube riding.  

On one of my trips to Dominical back in May I found myself in a little bit of trouble. After arriving on friday afternoon, I threw my stuff down in my hostel, grabbed my board, and ran down to the beach to catch the last few hours of sunlight.  When I arrived I found the waves to be pretty big (the report said 7-10 foot and building throughout the night and next day).  Having surfed the beach quite a few times and feeling pretty confident out there, I didn’t even think twice about paddling out. However as soon as I got in the water I could tell it was much bigger than I thought. When I finally made my way through the heavy waves to the line up I noticed that the crowd was very small, only me, one other local, and a group of 5 or so lifeguards doing toe-ins on their rescue jet ski.  I spent the next few hours getting a number of good rides, pulling into a half dozen close-out barrels, and taking a few beatings in the process.  It was getting late and I decided to get one more.  I saw a solid over head wave coming my way and paddled for it, stood up and pulled into the barrel just like I’d been doing all afternoon.  This time, however, I didn’t get crushed by the falling lip and tossed around underwater, instead I got spit out into the shoulder, dry as a bone.  After having caught such an amazing ride a decided to paddle out for one more wave despite the late hour and being extremely fatigued.  Just as I arrived at the line up a HUGE set was peaking on the horizon, by far the biggest set of the day.   I paddled as hard as I could towards it, the wave growing bigger and bigger as I got closer.  I knew I had a chance at getting over it but it was going to be a close call.  Just as I got to the foot of the wave the lip started to curl over and I realized that it was going to land right in front of me.  I knew there was no way I was going to be able to get deep enough to duck dive it so I ditched my board and swam for the bottom.  I felt the wave explode above be so violently that I thought for sure my board was going to be in two pieces when I surfaced.  I was tossed around underwater for what seemed like an eternity.  The wave let up just enough to give me a chance to come up for a breath of air and a mouthful of foam before the next wave in the set exploded in-front of me.  I took 4 or five of these before the set let up just enough to allow me to get my bearings.  I noticed that my board was, thankfully, still in one piece.  I decided to call it a day so I jumped on and caught some white water for shore.  

I walked up the beach and sat down on a log to watch the lifeguards squeak in a few toe-in rides before nightfall.   I glanced down at my board and noticed how close it actually came to being snapped into two. There was a huge crease down the middle any small wipeout would surly break it.  Upset about the inevitable fate of my board, I didn’t even notice the on-duty lifeguard walking over to me.  When he stopped in front of me I thought he was going to tell me that he was worried he was going to have to rescue me from the huge set, but he actually came over to complement me on the barrel I had a few minutes prior.      

The waves that broke on me that day were, by far, the biggest and most powerful waves I’ve ever experienced.  Though they did give be a bit of a fright, they didn’t, scare me enough to want to leave my favorite little beach town.  

I’m still having a blast here in Costa Rica. Everyday is a new adventure.  Stay tuned for more tomorrow... 

Mono and All That Jazz

Hello all.  Sorry I’ve been a slacker lately with my blogging.  My schedule has been a bit hectic lately with mid year vacations and a short bout with mono, but here are a few cuentos from the last few months. 

For a big part of May and June I wasn't feeling 100%.  I hardly had the energy to stand up in class let alone make it through a whole day of teaching.  I told my host mother about how I was feeling and she just kept reassuring me that I had “un gripe nada mas” (just a cold).  At about the same time many of the other volunteers weren’t feeling great either and within the next few weeks WT started invading Clinica Biblica hospital in San Jose. By the end of June, 14 of the 23 volunteers tested positive for mononucleosis, me included. The country declared us (worldteach CR) a national epidemic.

The doctor told me that I had to be bed ridden for the next 8 days and that I could not teach. My fist reaction upon hearing this news was “but I have to teach! My students can’t miss 8 days of english class.” My response actually surprised me!   Somewhere in the weeks between our mid-service meetings in May and the beginning of June I stated to really enjoy teaching.  Weeks prior I would have loved to have a legitimate excuse to take a few days off work, but now the thought of not teaching for eight whole days actually scared me a little bit. What the heck what I going to do in Vergel for eight days?  I couldn’t exercise, play soccer, or go to the school to use the internet (because of the risk of passing on virus to the kids). I was going to be bored out of my mind.  Luckily I had a few good books, some empty sheets of sudoku, and chess on my computer to keep me busy.  I spent my mornings sitting on the cool cement floor of my room switching off reading A Thousand Splended Suns and Think and Grow Rich,  both of which i really enjoyed.  Once school was out and all the guilas had gone home, I’d walk over to my classroom and mess around on the internet for a while. I did my best to follow doctors orders and rest. I worked in at least 1-2 siestas per day.  The eight days went by a lot easier than I thought they would.  All in all I finished two books, played at least 40 games of chess against my computer, and got some much needed rest.      

My first day back at school felt great. The kids greeted me warmly and were legitimately excited to have English class again, although some were a little bit concerned to come near me because when they heard that I was sick assumed that I caught Swine flu, or Gripe de Chancho (Pig Disease) as they like to call it.  Nonetheless, I think the best part of being back was just getting into a routine again, even if it was only for a few days.  Because at the beginning of July our midyear vacations started and I had plans to travel  Costa Rica with my friends Ricky and Jon.  

Be sure to check back later this week for more D’Amico and the Ticos...

Un Dia Tipica

People have been asking me what a typical day for me in Costa Rica is like.  So I thought I’d describe, more or less what, I do here.  

6:00am- Wake up to the sound of roosters crowing outside my room. Stumble into the kitchen, drink some coffee,  eat breakfast.  Get ready for school. 

6:57am- Arrive at my classroom where there are 25 kids waiting for Teacher to open the door so that I can “prestame las cartas” (give then the Uno cards).  I must hear that phrase 500 times a day “Teacher, Teacher, prestame las cartas!!” 

7:00am- 10:30am Teach

10:30 - Lunch

11:00-12:00pm Teach 

12:00pm- to 12:30pm- Get out the hammer and nails. The next half-hour of my day is usually dedicated to keeping my rickety old classroom from falling down.  The door has already been fixed 1,755 times and counting. 

The students absolutely love to play “touch the board” game. Which is where I tape two pictures on the blackboard; (e.g. if we are learning about animals there may be a picture of a cat and a picture of a dog).  Two kids stand a few feet away from the board, then I’ll say either cat or dog and the first kid to touch the picture I say wins.  This game almost alway ends with the class breaking out into complete chaos or someone bleeding, usually both.  But the kids love it so we keep playing it.  The game is also hugely detrimental to my classroom, as it causes the panels on walls to fall off, making big holes.  If these holes are not fixed immediately the kids will escape out of them whenever Teacher’s back is turned.  

12:30 to 1:30 Make lesson plans for the next day, clean classroom, mess around on the internet.  

1:30 to 3:00  Usually this large chunk of my afternoons is dedicated to finding something to eat.   

Every morning my host Mother makes a pot of gallopinto, which is just a mixture of rice and beans, and a very typical Costa Rican breakfast.  The pot is supposed to last until the afternoon so that once the kids come home from school there is something they can snack on.  However, between me, my four host brothers, my host Dad who has a belly big enough to push around in a wheelbarrow , and my chubby-little host sister who everyone calls “chancho” (pig) the pot of Gallopinto is usually gone pretty quickly.  By the time 1:30 comes around I’m starving. I rush home as fast as I can to try and scrape whatever is left at the bottom of the pot, which is usually nothing.  There are no super markets or grocery stores in my pueblo.  So there is nothing I can buy to curb my hunger.  So usually I go back to school and bribe kids with stickers to climb trees and pick me mangos.  A couple mangos will usually hold me over for a few hours.

After I find something to eat I usually hangout on the front porch of my house and either read, play guitar, or talk with my host brothers and friends Diego and Jody.      

  

3:00pm-5pm  Tuesdays and Thursdays I ride my bike down the highway to some friends house and give them English lessons.  Usually they treat me to, much appreciated, plates of arroz con pollo.    

Mondays and Wednesdays are my favorite days of the week because they are soccer days.  The local teenagers gather on the plaza behind my house and have “majengas”, or pick up games.   My host brother, Pablo, is an amazing player. He practices on the plaza everyday; running laps, juggling, and taking set shots.  He even had a brief stint on the Costa Rican Junior National Team. Furthermore, Jeremy (the volunteer 15 min up the highway) takes the bus down to Vergel and plays sometimes.  Jeremy is also an excellent soccer player, he played four years on his college team.  I have always considered myself to be a decent soccer player, having played AYSO and Club for most of my youth, however playing with these guys everyday has really been humbling.         

5:00pm  Take a shower, then read in the hammock on the front porch, more guitar, play with the little kids, more messing around on the internet. 

7:00pm  The news comes on.  Everyone in Costa Rica watches the news. Everyone! And I don’t understand why?  It reminds me of the movie Anchorman.  Some of the things they consider news here I find ridiculous.  I’m pretty sure Ill see a pregnant panda or a waterskiing squirrel sometime before December. However ridiculous it is, I still find myself on the couch every night glued to the TV along with the rest of the family.  I have also found that the news is really good practice for my Spanish, as it allows me to listen to many different people’s voices, as well as, many different subject matters which builds my vocabulary. 

7:30pm Dinner 

8:00pm More porch lounging... read... play guitar... hang out with the family.

9:00pm Bed

So, mas o menos thats my life right now.  Hope you enjoy reading. Go Lakers!!! 

Gringo Time

This past week was horrible.  The kids were SO bad.  They wouldn’t listen to anything I said.  They were getting out of their seats whenever they wanted, climbing up walls, screaming, throwing things, crying: it was madness.  In my eighty minute classes we only did about thirty minutes of “work”.  The rest of the time was spent just trying to keep order.  By the time the weekend came I badly needed a break from teaching, as well as from Vergel.  It still really bothers me that I can’t find privacy here.  All I wanted to do was sit around, relax, read, and hangout.  There is no way I can do that in Vergel without someone bugging me.   I couldn’t wait to get out of town.  

Ten of the other volunteers and I were going to meet in San Jose and have “Gringo time”. It had been almost two months since most of us had seen each other, and all we wanted to do was speak in English, eat something other than rice and beans, and maybe drink some beers.  After class friday I rushed home, threw some cloths in a bag, and caught the first bus out of Vergel.  I fell asleep in my seat almost instantly, and stayed that way for almost four hours. I was woken up, however, when the bus made an unscheduled stop just outside of San jose in a town called Cartago.  I looked out the window to see what was going on, and noticed there were policemen everywhere.  One of the police men, armed with a machine gun, entered the bus and said that all foreigners needed to take out their passports.  As I was reaching for my bag I realized that I did not have my passport.  My passport was in San Jose going through a process to get a visa, and the consularized copy, that I was supposed to be carrying, was in Vergel.  In my rush to get out of town, I had forgotten it on my bed.           

If you get caught without a passport in costa rica you are taken into custody immediately, and most times have to spend the night in jail.  So I’m freaking out!! I frantically dig through my bag looking for any kind of ID possible.  I pull out my cloths and books, and ask the man next to me if he could hold on to them while I searched.  I pulled my head out from inside my bag, the machine gun-clad police officer was only two rows away and I still hadn’t found anything resembling an ID.  Luckily, just as he arrived at my seat, I found two credit cards and my WorldTeach ID, which is just a laminated piece of paper with my name and picture.  I looked up at the officer sheepishly as I handed him the documents.  He took one glance at them, then stared down at me as if he was saying “seriously, this is what you’re giving me?”.  He began to look annoyed, and his machine gun was really intimidating, so I started to talk.  I explained to him that I was a teacher in La zona sur (the southern zone), and that I did not have my passport because it was being processed for a visa.  He snapped back at me saying “where in La zona sur do you live!?”  I said “I live in a small pueblo near the town of Palmar Norte”, the whole time thinking myself O God please don’t shoot me!! Then he said “where? what is town called?!”  I said “Vergel”. As soon as I said this I noticed his irritable tone turn to affable. He said “Oh, Vergel, do you know Dona Eliza?” I quickly responded “yes yes I live with her, she my host mother, as well as the director of my school.”  He said “ahhhh yea... tell her so and so (I cant remember his name) says hello”. Then he handed me back my credit cards and WT ID, and exited the bus.  

I was at a crowded police checkpoint four and a half hours away from my tiny village, and the officer who just happen to inspect my bus, also just happen to know my host mother. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.  Not only that I didn’t get arrested, but also that I lived with such a well know and respected lady.  

While driving away from the checkpoint the reality of the situation began to sink in, and I began to put had just happened into perspective.  I thought about what might have happened if the officer hadn’t known Dona Eliza.  I pictured myself getting handcuffed, put in the back of a police car, and thrown in jail for a few days.  I thought how awful that would have been.  Then I thought about where I had just come from; and the madness that Is Escuela El Vergel.  Being throw in jail started not to sound half bad.  At least then I would have gotten a vacation from teaching for a few days.  

John Sawyer and Huckleberry mann

One or two days a week I take the bus to Palmar Norte, (my closest “big” town) to make copies for class.  I love staring out the window at the the river, which runs parallel to the highway.  I’m always amazed at how beautiful it is. One day while riding home I had great idea; build a log raft, and float down the river from Rey Curre (my friend Jeremy Mann’s Town) to Vegel (my town).  The Rio Terreba, the largest river in central america, flows directly behind my house. It starts high in the mountains of Costa Rica, wines through the jungle, passes through Rey Curre, then through El Vergel, until it finally empties itself into the Pacific Ocean.     I thought the trip would be an awesome experience, just like Tom Sayer and Huckleberry Finn.  I presented the idea to Jeremy who said he would defiantly be interested.  

When we told our host families about what we wanted to do they thought we were absolutely crazy.  They advised us that it probably wasn’t the best idea, but wouldn’t stop us if we really wanted to do it.  We were known as Los teachers locos for days prior to our launch.  As far as we knew we were the only people to ever attempt something like this, so had no idea what to expect.  We didn’t know if the raft would hold up in the rapids, if we were going to be eaten by crocodiles, or if It was even possible to make it the whole 15 kilometers in two days.  

  

The plan was to start early Saturday morning, raft all day until about 2 or 3 in the aft

ernoon, stop and set up camp for the night, then wake up early the next morning and finish rafting whatever river was left.  

The morning of our departure we woke up at 5, allowing enough time to make a few last minute preparations before our planed launch time at 6:15.  Jeremy’s Neighbor was nice enough to drive us and the raft down to the river. We unloaded our things, he wished us luck, and then left.  We laid out our supplies on the beach and took inventory.  

1 balsa wood raft, 2 avocados, 2 coconuts, 15 small mangos, 1 swiss army knife, 1 machete, 2 cameras, 1 mosquito net, some fishing line and bait, 2 hooks, 2 head flashlights, 1 bottle of bug spray, 1 bottle of sunscreen, water, and 1 harmonica    

We were ready... or at least we hoped we were.

We knew that there were two solid rapids 

just around the corner from our launching point.  These would prove be our first true test.  The raft would either hold up and we would make it through safely, or it would be smashed into a million pieces prematurely ending our trip.  

We launched the raft shortly after 6am.  Neither Jeremy nor I having had any prior rafting experience figured it was probably best to gain speed as we could before heading into the rapids. Using scraps of wood as oars, we paddled like crazy toward toward the rough water.  We were relieved to find that we flew through them with ease.  Elated with how well the raft held up, we cheered out with screams of joy.  However we weren’t out of the woods yet, we knew there was a HUGE rapid a few more minutes down the river in a town called Las Vegas. 

The river was calm between the first set of rapids and Las Vegas.  So we sat back and enjoying sights and sounds of the jungle.  We were blown away at how captivating and peaceful it was.  We looked on as a countless number of birds flew above, Iguanas and squirrels scurried up trees, and fish swam around below us.  We couldn't believe how well the trip was going so far and we kept talking about what a great idea it was to do it. Our bliss was short lived however, when Jeremy spotted 20 yards up ahead a rope stretched out across the river  The rope had been placed there by fishermen and had fishing lines attached every ten feet or so.   Upon closer examination, we noticed that one of the lines had a fish attached to it.  

The next thing we know, a huge crocodile emerges from the water only 15 feet from us and bites the fish in half.   Then another crocodile emerges and tries to steal the fish out of the first crocodiles mouth.  At this point we are freaking out.  We were stuck in the middle of a river at feeding time, while two crocodiles were fighting over a fish only a few feet away.   Jeremy quickly grabbed the machete and I pick up a piece of wood ready to fight them off just in case they got too close.   Luckily, as we drifted by they hardly noticed us, they were more concerned with keeping their breakfast, then they were the two dumb gringos floating by whom had just wet their pants.  

We paddled away from them as quickly as we could, rounded a bend, and then resized we had arrived at the huge rapid in Las Vegas.  We pulled the raft to the side to see if it was even possible to float down it.  After talking it over for a few minutes we agreed it was probably best not to test our good luck and decided to carry the raft around the rapid.  We walked back to the raft, shared a mango and some water, then started to carry the ra

ft.  The raft, after soaking in the river for a few hours now weighed almost twice what it had before.  Realizing that it was much too heavy and we weren't going to be able to carry it, we put the raft down and dragged it across the rocks. It turned out to be much harder than we anticipated, we were only able to move it a few inches at a time.  One hour later we had finally made it other side of the rapid.  Sweaty, tired, and hungry we decided it was time to eat breakfast.  

Over breakfast we talked about our expectations for the rest of the trip.  We had crossed two rapids, fought off crocodiles, and carried the raft a few hundred yards, all before 10am.  We felt confident we could take on any challenge the river could present us for the rest of the way.    

We spent the next few hours navigating rapids, fishing, cliff jumping, taking turns on the harmonica, and relaxing.  It was awesome.  At around 2 o'clock we decided we should start looking for a good place to camp, however at about the same time the wind came up.  The wind blew hard right in our faces. So hard that it pushed us up river.  We had to paddle with all our strength just to make forward progress.  We would have stopped and set up camp but the area we were in looked a little bit too crocodile-friendly.  So we trudged on into the wind until our arms were tired and we could no longer paddle.  We found pretty good spot to camp, so we stopped and unloaded the raft.  I was so tired I could hardly move. After setting up a shelter and making a fire I laid down on a log and fell asleep.  When I woke up I found Jeremy next to the fire preparing our dinner.  That afternoon we ate the fish, coconuts, and mangos.  It was delicious. 

However our dinner was interrupted when a herd of bulls decided to walk into our camp.  We spent thirty minutes trying to shoo them away with no success.  Luckily a man came walking over to corral the bulls back into their pen.  Once the bulls gone, we talked with the man for a few minutes. We found out that the bulls belonged to him and that he lived just up the road with his family.  He was very nice and didn't seem to mind that we were camping on his property, especially when he found out that I was his kids English teacher.   Having no idea where we were, we asked him how far it was to El Vergel.  He told us were we in Guasimo, which is the next town over from Vergel, and only a 15 min trip down the river.  Jeremy and I, having been on the river all day, were exhausted, sunburned, and hungry.  We both thought to ourselves that we would defiantly be a lot more comfortable if we just sailed the last bit of river to my house however we never talked about it.  

At around six o'clock, just as the sun was gong down, Jeremy walked into our shelter to find it teeming with spiders.  He told me that there was no way he was going to sleep in there and asked if I wanted to raft the fifteen minutes to vergel.  I said yes.   So we packed up camp, loaded the raft, put on our head lamps, and started paddling to Vergel.  I knew that sunrise and sunset are the the most common times to see crocodiles, because this is when they come out to feed.  I could tell from the frantic  way that Jeremy was paddling that he knew this too.  

Within two minutes of entering the water, the batteries in Jeremy’s head light die.  The sun has already set and it was almost completely dark.  At this point we are more than a little bit nervous.   We paddled as hard as we could for a few more minutes trying the best we could to keep our eyes out for crocodiles. Then, we heard a sound down river we were both wishing we weren't going hear, a rapid.  At this point we were really freaking out. We were paddling, completely blind, down a river filled with crocodiles, and now there is rapid up ahead we can’t see. We couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation we had got our selves into.    What the HELL were we doing?  

Luckily, within a few seconds of hearing the rapid our raft ran aground.  We used the flashlight to look around.  We realized that we had ran into a huge island in the middle of the river and that there was a rapid just ahead that was much too big to float down.   Ahwww crap!! Now we were really in trouble. We were stuck and weren't going to be able to raft anymore at night.  We didn’t know what to do.  Should we ditch the raft on the island, walk across the river, and climb our way through the jungle up to the road?  Or, stay where we were and spend then night on the island.  Both scenarios had the risk of crocodiles, but we decided it was probably best to say on the island.  

It was only seven o’clock when we curled up for the night inside of Jeremy’s mosquito net, the sun doesn’t come up until after five. We had ten hours to kill before we were going to be able to raft again.  I was so tired to even think about crocodiles or mosquitos, I fell asleep almost immediately.  I think I had the best night sleep I could have possibly had considering where I was, I only woke up a few times during the night.

We woke up the next morning just before sunrise, packed up the raft, and started paddling down toward my house.  It only took us twenty minutes to get to El Vergel.    

The trip was defiantly not one of the smartest things we had ever done, but it was an adventure and a lot of fun. And having adventures is defiantly one of the reasons we came to Costa Rica.