Monkeys on the Roof and Wisconsin Girls Make the Best Pancakes - Friday 3-27-2009

Other than taking pictures of a family of monkeys in the trees outside my window, I do little until the evening. At about 5:30PM I follow the paved road outside of Manakin Lodge east, away from Santa Elena and towards the Monteverde Preseve. The cool evening air is welcome a respite from today’s heat. The road bends left a half mile on, and I see rainforest, ranch land, and grass land all the way to the ocean. I sit on a small rock next to the road for several minutes, just enjoying the view. Continuing, the road turns to gravel. I spot four early twenty-somethings walk down the road from Hotel Belmar on my left. I continue on and soon the forest rises tall on either side of the road. A few cars pass me. On my right I see a worn wooden sign with “waterfall” and “night tours” painted on it. Curious, I turn and follow the dirt road down. An SUV passes me. I come to the end of the path, seeing only a small house, the parked SUV, and an information shack with an “Open” sign on it. Turning back, a light-skinned Costa Rican meets me partway up the dirt road. He tells me they are closed for the day and that I should come back in the morning. This is the Monteverde Waterfall, not the more famous San Juan Waterfall; that is another several kilometers east on the gravel road. This waterfall, however is 30 meters high, has a trail with climbing ropes to better navigate my way to the waterfall, two natural pools for swimming, and costs only $8 per person. While the man tells me this, a small boy runs up the path and wraps his arms around the man’s legs, greeting him with a loud “Papi!” I thank the man for the information and ask his name. “Simon,” he says. I shake his hand and introduce myself. “Mucho gusto,” Simon says and I continue my walk.

I walk east along the gravel road and arrive at what a large wooden sign proclaims to be the center of Monteverde. To my left rises a small hill upon which is built Hotel El Bosque, a large hotel with a chocolate shop, an Argentine restaurant, and a live bat exhibit. Ahead of me to my right is Tramonti, an authentic Italian restaurant my guidebook recommends. I walk past and look inside. I see five staff members, no customers, and many nicely-set but empty tables. Walking on, I pass Stella's Bakery, empty despite a recommendation from my guidebook. Further on, a small hotel, the three story artists cooperateive with a large sign that reads CASEMCOOP, and a small grocery store attached to the small hotel. I walk further. A group of twenty-something Americans pass me from behind. I ask them what lies ahead and they say the Quaker cheese factory that made Monteverde a real town is another fifteen minutes ahead. The evening is darkening; passing cars are now using their headlights. I turn back. I have walked about three miles.

Thirty minutes later, the sky is black and I have returned to Manakin Lodge. I walk up to my room, grab my laptop, walk down to the dining area and begin writing. Five minutes later, the Wisconsin girls enter the kitchen. One comes out and asks if the Internet is up. “No,” I say. “I’m just writing my blog in Word for posting tomorrow.” She tells me her friends are making pancakes from scratch for dinner. I get up and walk to the kitchen. Sure enough, they are cracking eggs and mixing batter in a big bowl. They ask if I would like some for dinner. I put my laptop down, sit at the kitchen table, and happily say yes.

We sit and talk and they tell me more about living in Wisconsin, and the different towns they’re from (two are from the Madison area, one lives near the Iowa border) and how strange it will be for them to be back in the States with no set plans. One sounds interested in attending college, the other two seem more interested in alternatives. I joke a bit about cheese before it becomes clear to me that they know as much about its varietals and subtleties as friends in San Francisco know about the varietals and subtleties of wine.

Each of the Wisconsin girls takes turns making batter, mixing, and cooking. I feel like I should offer to help, but they have the situation so under control that I feel like I would just get in the way. They offer me the first two pancakes and they are excellent, flavorful from the whole grain flour with just the right amount of sugar. I put butter on my pancakes and wolf them down hungrily. We eat and talk for maybe an hour. When we are all satisfied, they graciously wash my plate and utensils.

I’m glad the Wisconsin girls showed up when they did, and I tell them so. I had a day or two to myself after my Portuguese friends left for Nicaragua. Those days were a bit lonely, especially because Manakin Lodge is a quiet place with only a handful of rooms. Monteverde itself is also much more a highland escape than a tourist center, despite all the tour companies and half-filled hotels. I am learning that I am indeed quite social and that I enjoy being around people, even if I am not necessarily interacting with them. Hanging out with the Wisconsin girls eased my loneliness greatly.

The Wisconsin girls start planning for their departure tomorrow for La Fortuna, near Volcan Arenal. Johnny comes in and advises them on how to get to La Fortuna via the public bus system. They will have to catch the bus at 7:00AM sharp in Santa Elena, travel all day, wait seven hours in a town, the name of which I forget, and finally arrive in La Fortuna around 8:00PM. The trip will cost only several dollars. Tiffany, the Canadian woman who never relinquished the room I booked because she is now staying at Manakin Lodge indefinitely to teach English at the local, suggests they take a taxi-boat-taxi combination that will cost about $20, but allow them to reach La Fortuna by mid-afternoon. I suggest a private shuttle for its convenience, but $35 per person is outside the girls’ budget. They settle on the public bus. We all talk a bit more, then Johnny walks to his room and Tiffany catches the cab she called. I give the Wisconsin girls my email, my blog address, and my sincere wishes they enjoy the last six days in Costa Rica. They retreat to their room to pack for tomorrow’s trip. I retreat to my room to write.

More Rest, A Night Hike, Friends From Wisconsin - Thursday 3-26-2009

I talked to three girls from Wisconsin this morning as I wrote and they ate. They had been in Panama for two months staying with a family and doing missionary work for the Jehovah’s Witnesses. We all laugh when they tell me that it will be nice to be home in Wisconsin, where three five-foot-seven, light-skinned, strawberry blond, blue-eyed girls don’t stick out. I laugh harder when they tell me how someone asked them point blank if they were Norwegian, and then how a burned out hippie Vietnam Veteran who’d been living in Panama for God knows how long asked them if they were speaking Swedish when they were clearly speaking English. A quick note about the Wisconsin girls – they’re real cool. Also, I tried my best to remember their names but their names are so similar that I forgot them anyway. I think they are Katie, Kaylee, and Kiley. No, they are not sisters. They are just friends with coordinated names.

After breakfast, Yolanda helps me book my hostel in Playa Tamarindo (3-30-2009 until 4-2-2009), and my transportation to Tamarindo via Greyline ($45). OK, so here is something I’m going to work on while I’m out here – planning less. I’m already in Costa Rica without a real itinerary, but I feel like I should stop booking my moves five days in advance. Yolanda’s son Johnny walks in and offers to take me on a night hike through the private ecological preserve. Yolanda had called the Monteverde Preserve to book me a night hike and found they had closed for the day, so Johnny’s offer interests me. Johnny is a guide at the private ecological preserve and was going to charge me $25, but the Wisconsin girls book too and he charges them $20 because they are a group. I ask to pay $20 too and Johnny relents, eventually. Johnny's 26 and had a baby boy yesterday. He’s not married to the mother, but Yolanda seems OK with that.

At 5:15PM, Johnny, the Wisconsin girls, and I walk about one mile from Manakin Lodge to the private ecological preserve. Johnny is an amazing tour guide. He finds a female tarantula hiding in her hole. Only females live in holes. The males run loose on the forest floor. We listen to him describe how much of the preserve is former banana and coffee farmland turned into secondary forest (replanted forest after the virgin forest had been cut down) by bats. Bats eat their own weight in food every night and so excrete seeds from the fruits they eat several times a night. Johnny tells us that bats are responsible for reforesting about 70 percent of the preserve. Humans played no part in the reforestation besides buying the land and then leaving it alone. He takes us to a huge leafcutter ant mound and tells us that what we see is only a small portion of the colony. Leafcutter colonies can house eight million to nine million ants but only one queen and can span several hundred feet in every direction, Johnny tells us.

The narrow trail is covered by a bed of leaves and branches off confusingly, leading down black, unmarked paths. Signs are sparse. The forest encroaches on us tightly. I do not know how I would find my way through the ecological reserve even by day. Deftly, Johnny guides us up slopes and down into valleys. He tells us this secondary forest has been growing for 25 years. That seems like such a short time considering the towering trees, thick strangler vines, massive roots, and impenetrable undergrowth. As we walk, Johnny shines his light onto tree branches and repeatedly finds sleeping birds. Some birds are orange with black heads and white breasts. Others are brown. Some have green heads and red breasts. Johnny points out leaves with undersides so soft they feel like cloth. He finds an alligator tree sapling, picks some leaves, and wipes his arms with them. Natives and native animals have used these leaves as mosquito repellant for centuries, he informs us. The scent is strong and similar to pine, but sweeter. He says he has been a guide for 12 years and I believe it. We come to a clearing with a bench and the forest opens to the spring sky. We sit for about fifteen minutes and Johnny points out Orion, Taurus, and Gemini. I look for Pisces but can’t find it. I think it’s too late in the season now.

We walk more along the bending, confusing trail when Johnny excitedly points out a cat-sized rat-like creature with large black eyes and a long tail sitting about 25 feet above us in a tree just off the trail. Tonight is only the second time in his life he has seen this animal. We stay awhile as Johnny tells us about the animal. We walk on and Johnny points out a snake the length of my index finger curled on a leaf. Johnny tells me this snake could easily kill a man.

After the night hike, we all walk to the road that leads west to Santa Elena and east to Manakin Lodge. Johnny tells us a bit about the local restaurants and then bids us goodnight. The Wisconsin girls and I walk to Las Palmas, just past Atmosphere Café on the road to Santa Elena, about 1 mile outside of Santa Elena and 500 yards from Manakin Lodge. All the prices are in dollars. Las Palmas is a large, upscale restaurant with reasonable prices, white table linens, and rustic wood paneling. It has plenty of tables but few customers, testament to this year’s poor high season. Try the Hawaiian Pizza for $6.95 (small with four big slices) or $10.95 (large with eight big slices). Their large menu also included other pizzas, pastas, (the fettuccini alfredo looked good), and beef from hamburgers to filet mingon.

For the next ninety minutes, the Wisconsin girls and I have a great conversation about the Jehovah’s Witnesses and negative stereotypes people have about them. The girls answered each of my probing questions about their religion, its tenants, Witness’ obligations, and how it differs from other Christian religions with patience and without judgment. They also maturely handled my favorite question about religion: what if all religions lead to the same place and each religion exists only so that people can choose the path most suited to them. They didn’t buy it because their religion interprets the Bible strictly and does not have room for such metaphysics. I was fascinated to learn that Witnesses, as they call themselves, are taught the pagan origins of much Christmas and Easter symbolism, including the strategic placement of these holidays on top of pre-existing Pagan holidays by the early Christian Church. I’ve read about these topics and was quite impressed that three 20 year olds were familiar with Christmas’ placement over the Roman festivals Saturnalia and the Feast of the Unconquered Sun, even if they couldn’t name those festivals without my prompting. I’m quite comfortable in my Catholicism, watered down and unorthodox as my brand of Catholicism might be, so conversion to their cause wasn’t in the cards. Still, the four of us enjoyed a fine, educational, and deeply interesting conversation about a touchy subject. I talked more easily about religion and the criticisms of religion with these three girls than I can with many people two or three times their age. I hadn’t had such a stimulating conversation about religion since my Hindu friend from business school, Devang, and I talked about Hinduism over steak and pasta in Florence, Italy during Spring Break 2005.

After dinner, we all walk back to Manakin Lodge and call it a night.