Home Again!

We’re home!!!!! Well, without Bill, but he’ll be home soon. Our voyage was without incident but equally as long and tedious as the trip out there. This time there was not an overabundance of strange people to make fun of so my enjoyment of international travel was slightly diminished. My lovely daughter Sydney and her equally engaging young man, Ryder, were there to greet us and drive us home. We were all exhausted and eagerly awaiting the familiarity of our soft, warm beds which would be free of crawling, biting insects. The dogs were excited to see us and the cats graciously deigned to acknowledge that we were permitted to continue living in their house. The shock of stepping out of the car and into 50 degree weather was a chilling (get it???? chilling???) reminder of our northern latitude. Nevertheless, the air was dry and the sheets did not stick to our legs with the damp humidity. It was heaven.

Five days before we left we decamped from La Selva and traveled many miles over impossibly rocky, rutted dirt roads to our next destination, Laguna del Lagarto. This road requires the wearing of an armor-plated, cantilevered brassiere, or at the very least enough room in the vehicle to be able to sit with your knees pressed to your chest. We arrived without difficulty and were met by Brian who seemed very happy to see us; we were certainly happy to see him (with the possible exception of my breasts which were sulking behind my waistband)!

This was a short visit but we had a good time with the students and even managed to squeeze in a boat trip down the river. The river was quite high and full of debris that required the captain to maneuver around these obstacles so he wouldn’t stove in the bottom of the boat and turn us into crocodile food. We saw several impressive specimens of the crocodiles, all of which scurried into the water long before we got very close with the exception of one 8 foot long critter that refused to move until the boat bumped right in to him! Many pictures were taken, all the boys were gabbling with excitement (except Liam who was perched on top of my head). On the way up the river we stopped on one of the shores while our guide jumped out, threw sticks at some big, ripe bread-fruit and knocked them into the river where we fished them out and brought them home for dinner.

One of the more irritating differences between La Selva and Laguna was not what you might imagine. We could not drink the water at Laguna, the wildlife was more immediate and the food was sometimes more challenging (but usually really good) but those were not the most difficult things to endure. It was the insects. At La Salva the insects are slightly more well-behaved as they seem to respect the fact that you’re wearing a sheen of Deet over every exposed surface of your body. They take this fact in, give it a test landing and then politely wing their way off to find the peccaries. Laguna was an entirely different matter. The evil, scheming insects that populate this region view Deet as a marinade or perhaps a special seasoning to go along with the gallons of blood they eagerly suck off or the numerous chunks of flesh they lumber away with. They are completely impervious to this method of repelling insects and have, in fact, been known to bite right through your clothing if you stand still long enough. Within 24 hours we resembled a colony of lepers.

I fear I have been compelled to relate one of my more unsuccessful attempts to communicate with the locals while in La Selva (Joy and Tami, I will find a way to get you back). While at this station you have to take a taxi into town in order to purchase personal items like beer, snacks, shampoo, etc. etc. One of the older drivers took our family under his wing and looked after us very well. His name was Conejo (Rabbit). On one of our last days dad and I had to go into town, so off I went down to the reception building where I asked them to call Conejo for us. At least that was what I had planned to do. What actually came out of my mouth was not Conejo but Cahone. In essence I had just asked the two men behind the counter to call a testicle for me. I’m not sure who was the most embarrassed, them or me. My beloved father compounded my humiliation by relating my gaffe to Conejo himself without me knowing that he had done so. Conejo’s parting words to me were “remember, my name is Conejo” before he smiled knowingly and took off in a cloud of dust in his little red taxi. I punched my dad right in the arm.

So, here we are, back at home enjoying our creature comforts and each other. The house was spotless, the fridge was full and my girlfriends and Sydney were with me for champagne breakfast this morning in my own sunny kitchen. How can you go through life without friends and family as important as this in your life? I’m very fortunate. This is probably the end of the Costa Rica blog, but I may add other things here and there.
Is there any interest?