Hola, me llaman Gringo: Tortuguero Part 1

Hey all, sorry that is has been so long since the last entry. Who would have thought that the internet would be hard to come by in super touristy hotels… So the last time I informed all of y’all about my whereabouts I believe that I was still in San Jose fresh off of a tour of that grand ‘ol city. A whole bunch has happened since then so I’ll do what I can to spill a few details. About three days ago the fam and I went white water rafting down the Pacuare River. Pretty cool, not a whole lot to say about it though… There were a lot of rapids and some cool waterfalls lining he canyon walls (but no walls on the stalls so if you looked real hard you could see some balls) that you could go under and drench yourself with if you so chose. I’ve been rafting a good number of times now so it’s a little difficult to get really animated and excited about it, but it was definitely a fun trip. After that leg of the journey we took a two-hour van ride down this road, if you are so bold as to say it was a road, it consisted mostly of baseball sized rocks densely layered on top of gravel and stone dust. In those two hours we probably only went 20-30 miles at a top speed of just about 15 mph. The thing is, because of all those rocks we were shaking worse than an epileptic in the middle of an earthquake. No joke, if I were a baby I would probably have suffered some rather serious brain damage. In short I loved it, it was like sitting on a really soft, comfy washing machine for far too long (ladies, you wish you were so lucky). Plus, it had to have been the road less traveled, which if the cliché stands true is a good thing… Anywhoo, on the sides of this road there were banana and diary farms as far as the eye could see, which was actually a little scary. The best way I can describe it is that it was like driving through the Midwest, only instead of golden wheat or corn there were perfectly straight rows of these rather awkwardly shaped banana trees standing on horribly gnarled ground. Thousands and thousands of them as far as the eye could see. The weirdest part was that each tree had what looked like a blue 55-gallon trash bag wrapped around the fruit. That hermetic icing on the artificially assembled cake was a little offsetting. I guess if you don’t understand why this is weird the best analogy I can give is that I felt like I was walking through a toy store, but the only thing on every shelf were identical copies of a creepy looking doll with a blue baggie wrapped around its arm. Oh, and as it turned out those trees belong to Chiquita, the artist formerly known as the United Fruit Company, one of the evilest corporations to have ever existed. If you don’t know them, and again I’m not trying to be rude, go look it up… Wow, I sound like a hippie and I apologize sincerely, but its kind of true. Feel free to chew me out for it on some later date. OH and if I become a dirty tree hugger after I come back from this program that I am going to I give you each permission to hit me once and renounce our friendship / family-ship. Don’t worry, I totally understand.

Moving on. At the end of the grey stone road (yellow brick haahahaha) there was this cool little town and waiting for us there was a man and a boat waiting to take us to the next stop on our journey, Tortuguero. The boat was about 30 feet long and 6 feet wide. One engine in the back and this really awkward roof that didn’t really look like it belonged where it was. I mumbled some Spanish to him, asking where our bags should go and, visibly annoyed, he gruffly replied back in English that he had them. Classic tourist move on my part, good first impression. He threw our bags into the boat and off we went. As we are bombing down this river at speeds that I thought unachievable by boat he points out some birds on the shore and tells us their name. I noticed that they were pink and I made a joke about them looking like flamingoes which I still think was pretty good. Nothing but crickets… Great first impression. We continued on in silence to a fork in the river; one way is basically a continuation of the same waterway we are already on. The other is a side channel, which is about 30 yards across, headed straight into the forest. We take the later. The highway to Tortuguero. Nice. Despite the rather curvy nature of the waterway we maintain our impressive velocity until the driver kills the gas throwing us all forward in our seats. He rather angrily states “typical” and stands up from his seat. I crane my neck forward to see what was going on and I see that there is a piece of bamboo or some other cane-like plant blocking the whole width of the channel. Out of nowhere he draws this rusty old machete, lays down across the nose of the boat and proceeds to hack the thing to pieces, GREAT first impression. He quickly finishes his piece of river etiquette and soon we’re off again. As it turned out his name was Don and for all intents and purposes he was our guide for the whole time we were in Tortuguero. And he became a contender for the Matt Peterfreund’s Favorite Person in the History of Ever Award. No big deal or anything. He is this big black guy, about 60 years old, slightly shorter than I am and a self proclaimed Jamaican born in Nicaragua who has lived in Costa Rica since the early 1970’s. Nice. He had this weird accent that was something like Jamaican with a twinge of Spanish and it sounded more than a little funny. The best part was that between my parents and myself, I was the only one who could understand him. More often than not my folks would miss some instruction or fact that he would say and he would get annoyed in just the same way that he did when he we first met him. I on the other hand usually got what he said the first time and would sit back and chuckle to myself as he passively scolded my parents. However, more importantly than all of that he knew literally everything about the plants and animals of Tortuguero National Park. You could point to anything around you and he could tell you what it was and whole host of facts about it. He also had eyes sharper than any human had a right to have too. On our tours he would point out caiman buried in the mud, birds sleeping within the brush and monkeys in the trees that literally no one else could spot besides him. He would then proceed to describe where these animals were to everybody else in the same annoyed voice that I quickly learned to associate with him. Theres more, but I’m tired or writing. I’ll tell the rest of the story tomorrow. Peace, Love, the Gap. You don’t know yet, but I’ll let you know soon, Jimmer.

OOOOHHHHH PRETTY PICTURESSSSSS