Lost in San Jose Costa Rica

Walking through the crowded streets, employees in the store fronts would call out through a microphone like an auctioneer to attract any curious bystanders. Along the road front motorcycles would zoom by and vehicles would hit the horn as if it were a Jeopardy buzzer. 

Focused on getting to our destination, we would briefly look down at the map to reorientate ourselves.  

"About where are we?"

"Okay, two more blocks and then we take a left and walk that way for a while."

Chet, Karen, and I landed in San Jose Costa Rica late the night before. After what felt like a nap, we were off early the next morning to get to the bus depot. We had to get to the Caribbean town of Puerto Viejo. It's a five hour bus ride from San Jose and is the easiest town to cross the border into Bocas Del Toro Panama; our next destination. 

After studying the map, we traversed our way to the bus station successfully . Seeing the bus saying Puerto Viejo, we went to purchase our bus ticket. 

"Uno boleto para Puerto Viejo." (One ticket for Puerto Viejo.)

The lady at the register looked at us and wrote down Mepe and handed us the paper. The three of us looked at the piece of paper and looked at each other with confusion. 

"It says Puerto Viejo on the bus schedule, I don't understand why we can't buy a ticket," said Chet. 

"The bus says Puerto Viejo out front and it's obvious that were at the bus station."

Asking another ticket seller, she proceeded to say something in Spanish. Looking at each other again, and then processing what the lady told us, we realized that we were in the wrong spot. After we asked a bus driver to point on the map where the Puerto Viejo bus terminal was, it turns out there is a bus station not labeled as a bus station a few blocks away. 

Sitting down to take a momentary break we see another Caucasian family with backpacks and two young daughters obviously confused. They would walk to the bus that said Puerto Viejo, look down at their book, look up, turn around and walk away, turn back and do the same thing. 

Wanting to help them out, I walked over and called out, "are you heading to Puerto Viejo?"

The mother looked at me as if I were another person approaching to sell her something and said no and kept walking. The husband hearing me said yes. Hearing their accents I immediately knew they were German. Looking down at their German Costa Rica guide book reconfirmed it. I felt like Sherlock Holmes. 

I then proceeded to tell them that we are in the same predicament and that they too were at the wrong bus station. Consulting their book, the husband looks up at me and in his German accent said, "that cannot be. This is the only bus station on the map and those buses say Puerto Viejo. We only want to get to the Caribbean for our vacation."

Trying to help them again, I explain that there is another Puerto Viejo and that this isn't the right one. The husband skeptical of the idea said they would consult the it over food. Leaving them there I headed back to Chet and Karen. 

Upon making it to the other bus depot, we were just in time. We bought our tickets, hopped on the bus and then left. Just outside of San Jose it started pouring rain. Windshield wipers on at full speed, our bus driver was determined to stay on schedule. 

Through the dense jungle we sped along on the two lane highway. The bus rocking back and forth like a boat and leaking like one, we looked out at the countryside. The bus driver getting behind a semi that was too slow would downshift and proceed to pass only to slip back into the lane to miss oncoming traffic. 

After a long day of traveling, we were stoked to get off the bus. Grabbing our bags from the stowage compartment, we were immediately soaked. Walking through the warm rain, we found our way to a hostel glad to be done traveling for the day. 

Lost In Translation

Taking a turn off the busy gray brick street into the warehouse like building didn't allow us to escape the chaos. As we sniffed around like hounds for the best food, people tried to herd us like cattle into their little food booths. 

Waving their menus or shouting out, a person would yell, "tamales!"

From behind we would hear, "Mole! Quesadillas! Chile Rellenos!"

Karen sitting outside on the sidewalk

Oaxaca color - blues and yellows

Cruising 

We (Chet, Karen, and I) are now in Oaxaca city known for it's large open markets, indigenous cultures, Mezcal tequila, and it's cuisine such as molé, grasshoppers, and chocolate. As we walked through their food market that is an acre in size, we had a hard time deciding where to go. Allowing our noses to guide us, we decided to go to what looked like the busiest place. 

Stepping into the adjacent warehouse, a fire alarm would have had a heart attack because the air was so heavy with smoke. Walking down the isle, on either side were barbecues and slabs of different meats with mesquite coals glowing dark red. As people fanned them, the smoky heat blew into me like a Santa Ana wind.

The smoky warehouse with all of the meats and barbecues

Over the busy food court Chet yelled, "let's eat here!"

"Sounds, good man! How does it work though?!"

"I don't know! I guess we will find out!"

Walking over to a booth area with veggies we soon figured out how it worked. A lady explained in Spanish and handed us a large wicker plate with veggies and pointed over towards the barbecue stations.

"Did either of you get that?"

"Nah, but I think we take the veggies over to one of the barbecue places."

Dancing through the crowd, we handed one of the barbecue booths our plate of veggies. The man told us something in Spanish. We got the gist that he wanted us to point toward some of the raw meats. As he explained what each cut and seasoning was, we just pointed blindly and hoped for the best. The man threw the slabs of meat onto the grill then directed us to the seating area. 

Dancing back through the crowd, Chet exclaimed, "I have no idea what we just ordered. I just pointed."

Getting directed into a booth like a plane by an air traffic controller, we all sat on one side of the booth seat. Soon three other Mexican fellows got directed to the seat opposite us. Sitting like a family would at a diner, all six of us sipped our Mexican Cokes and smiled knowing that we couldn't have a conversation. 

Sucking my Coke dry, our wicker plate showed back up with our veggies, a stack of tortillas, and a mound of meat. 

"Guys we ordered a lot of food."

"We should of ordered for two, or for one even."

"I think that's a kilo and a half of meat."

As we struggled to finish our mound of food, one of the Mexican fellows across from us said, "la comida es bueno, no?" (The food is good, no?)

I looked up from my taco, smiled and said, "El comida de Mexico es el mejor!" (Mexican food is the best!)

He chuckled and kept eating his food. Trying to make room in our stomachs, we ate our last bit of food. Getting up from the booths, one of the ladies ran over to us worried that we weren't going to pay. Handing her some money, we headed out of the smoky warehouse back onto the busy street. 

"Dude, that was bomb."

"I know."

Some more Oaxaca color and street life:

Getting Out Alive

With a gentle awakening, "hey man, how are you feeling?"

"Better," I said.

"Do you think you can make it to the airport?"

"Yeah... I think so."

"Alright go hop in the shower, you have thirty minutes to pack."

It was roughly 5:45am that Tuesday morning when I hopped in the shower. Pulling off my clothes that smelt strongly of sweat infused with garlic, I felt like Hercules compared to the day before.

During the previous night I came down with some sort of sickness. Possibly a bad case of Montezuma's Revenge or even Salmonella. Perfect timing for my flight leaving the next morning. I laid in bed that day too sick to stand. Too weak to talk. It was the sickest I'd ever been in my life.

I wasn't the only one however. The entire town seemed to be getting sick at varying degrees. Many of the surfers in the Mexi Log Fest were getting sick too; some even had to go home early. So when I was well enough to shower that morning I felt like I was somehow escaping the zombie apocalypse.

Still feeling weak, I carried my bags down the dimly lit street to the bus station at the edge of town. Setting my backpack in the dirt, I paid the thirty-five pesos to take the bus to Puerto Vallarta then shuffled into my seat. Looking around the interior of the bus, the faded teal paint was slightly pealing off. At the front of the bus was a stencil of Jesus' face and two stars.

The diesel Mercedes engine lurched to a start. The bus rocked gently between shifting gears. Noticing speed bumps ahead in the dim halogen headlights and trying to process the current speed of the bus, I concluded that we weren't slowing down. Hitting the speed bump the bus jumped and the shocks squeaked. The bus was getting air. No one seemed to be phased and we continued to hit speed bumps in the same manner. Leaning back in my seat, I looked out the window and watched the sunrise as I made my way to Puerto Vallarta thankful that I was feeling good again.

Sayulita Mexico and the Mexi Log Fest

Walking in the street as if it were a sidewalk, we weave around the cars, trucks, motorcycles, and quads as they chatter along the cobblestone road. Colorful buildings in different shades of bright colors, masked in a thin layer of dust, creates what probably used to be a small fishing village into a small town that has broadened it's horizons to tourism.

Mid day surf excursion

Mornings with a view

I've come to Sayulita Mexico for several reasons. One is that one of my cousin's got married here, I'm also meeting my friends Chet and Karen (my friends I will be traveling with now) here who came for a wedding, and my other cousin Robin who has been living here for the past four years. I've been to Sayulita Mexico a couple times before, but have little memories of it since I was so young. Robin said that it probably has changed so much that I wouldn't recognize much of it anyways.

My cousin Robin who was excited upon my arrival wanted to go camping at a surf spot down south after our cousin's wedding. However, we decided to stay because the first Mexi Log Surf Contest, along with a film festival and concert headlined by the Dirty Heads was happening. The brainchild of a local surfer decided that it would be awesome to have a contest that hosted some of the best longboarders from around the world. 

Prior to the contest, the water was tense with the competitors practicing for the upcoming contest. It's extremely rare to have a a lineup of thirty talented surfers trying to get into position for the same wave. 

While there was a competitive vibe in the air, it was awesome, humbling, and inspiring to see some of the best surfers in the world compete. Not to mention Robin also competed and surfed with the style and grace that many surfers desire to have. She surfed extremely well but in her first heat got paired with some of the best surfers including world champion Lindsey Steinriede. Even though she didn't advance too far ahead we enjoyed relaxing and watching the contest over the next three days. 

Over the sound of the the announcers from the judges stand, it was awesome making new friends and watching the longboarders slide and dance across the water. Not to mention Chet and Karen are here! 

To get an idea of what longboarding is about, here is a great video of Alex Knost surfing.

Lines from a Poem - Alex Knost

Back to the Desert Without a Leash

"Hey man, you wouldn't happen to have another leash?" 

"Sorry man I don't..."

The weather prediction looked good so we headed back to the desert again. After convincing myself that it wasn't going to rain anymore, I started sleeping out on the sand dune. 

Not a bad place to sleep

Beautiful sunrises...

And beautiful sunsets. 

Looking through the monocular. The Humback whales were jumping all day.

Waking up on the sand dune overlooking the ocean, I dusted the sand off my body. Looking up and across the beach, the ocean had become sheet glass with perfect crystal clear waves.

Playing with my water camera

Calm below the ocean'a turbulence

The surf forecast didn't look good prior to the trip so I didn't bother bringing my board. Just my luck that the waves would get good. Luckily Robo had brought two boards and was kind enough to let me borrow one. The downside was that he only had one leash. I wasn't going to let the absence of a leash stop me from surfing. I was determined to get in the water. Especially after being cooped up from the wind during the past few days.

Finding a piece of six foot rope laying around, I made a makeshift leash and fastened it to the board and my leg. I nervously paddled out through the warm aqua marine water. The waves were breaking a hundred yards off shore with several strong rip currents. A faulty leash would mean a lot of swimming.

After a few waves the leash ended up failing and in doing so broke the tail of the board off. Robo also broke his other board that session. With one board between a couple people, we were determined to continue surfing. 

Leashless and armed with one surfboard it was almost a blessing. After Robo or I lost the board we would swap out kind of like subbing out for a teammate in a sport. It was nothing but hoots and hollers as we got to watch each other slide across the waves the rest of the day. 

Some more photos from camping.

Gio's garden before. 

Gio's finished garden after. Complete with aloe, pineapple, and tarot. He moved the stone from a dry river bed to build the wall. 

Camp

Day camp

Friends, food, and sunsets

Slippers

Tracks

Reflections and wave turmoil

Dry Camping on the Beach Part 2

"What should we do? Should we call it and leave?"

"No we should stay and make our shelter better. Looking up the beach towards the North East I don't see any storms coming."

Upon deciding to tough it out, we decided to move camp to a different location with more tree cover. From there we could set up ridge lines to make a tarp shelter. Cold but wanting to get out of the wind, we moved to the new location so we could set up camp.

Our camp and gear

Through the strong North wind we built our shelter. We finally were protected from the elements and best of all we could relax. Even though it was windy, the sun had come out and brightened our surroundings. Taking a brief walk to look around revealed the surrounding landscape; a long spit of sand as far as the eye could see with large lava plateau mountains behind us. To the North East you could see the storms wrapping around the island a quarter mile offshore and headed back out to sea. They were volatile dark rain clouds rolling, spinning as if sent through a storm drain just offshore. It seemed as if the storms were divided by a window. They seemed close enough to touch. 

Entering the dunes

Massive rainbows all day. Also notice the storm gliding by just offshore. 

Deserted desert

Sunset from camp

Heading over the sand dune back to camp, I sat down and relaxed the rest of the day. Gio determined to make the campsite better spent the day planning out the garden he was going to put in.

"Text Josh to bring tomato plants and other starts. Also tell him to bring another rake and shovel. Let's go get river stone to build rock walls too."

Gio's building site for his garden. 

Until sunset it was a mellow day as we hid behind our tarp. However, things began to change quickly. Peering out from behind the tarp we could see the storms beginning to hit the mountain side from the North East. It was going to be another wet night.

Not wanting to set up my hammock, I decided to sleep under the tarp shelter on the ground. I layered myself in all of my clothes - jeans, shirt, flannel, and a windbreaker. Soon it was raining hard enough that the tarp roof needed a gutter. 

Sensing that the rain water was coming in, I placed a plastic table over my makeshift bed to act as another roof. Feeling like I was adequately prepared for the storms that night I fell asleep. 

Like the previous morning. We all woke up early due to an uncomfortable night in the rain and wind. We felt defeated. Our tarps were leaking and beginning to tear. Thinking that we couldn't feel any lower, the truck got stuck in the sand. As our clothes soaked in rain like a sponge and the wind tore into us, we laboriously dug the truck out.

Staying dry

Wet and windy 

Soaked and cold, Robo said, "I think I'm going to bail. The weather report doesn't look good and they have flash flood warnings for the area. What's the point of being out here if we are cold and sitting behind a tarp."

"You know... Young people nowadays think an adventure is going to be this romantic, easy thing," Gio said. "Well it's not. Adventures are often like this. Sometimes you get uncomfortable but that's what makes it an adventure."

The thought sunk into my chest as I too started to pack up and leave with Robo. I thought to myself "Maybe I'm not as adventurous as I thought."

As we loaded the truck, the last thing I saw was Gio digging his garden fervently in the pouring rain. Robo and I left with our tails between our legs as Gio stood his ground like a brave soldier in the rain.

Five miles later, we exited the washboard road that we were so excited to be heading down the day before. Turning back one last time I saw a dark menacing cloud enveloping everything around it. Ground, mountains, sky, and the camp where Gio sat.