Trying not to tempt fish and faith.

When shopping around for Galpagos tours, the guide books and message boards are full of things to watch out for: get a written itinerary; make sure you have a Grade II guide; and of course, you get what you pay for, especially when it comes to food and accommodations. So far we felt like we’d gotten value for money – after we switched guides that is. However, others in the group weren’t as pleased when it came to the food. And by others, I mean the anti-social lads. While vegetarian Stacey didn’t complain about her food, the three lads were constantly asking for more. Not only did they prefer each other’s company to ours, they preferred to eat, a lot. Over breakfast, we forced the three to give us their names. They were Maier, Gilad and A… um… I’ve forgotten, so let’s call him Aaron. The three young guys from Israel were not impressed with the portions at any of either the restaurant from yesterday or today’s breakfast place and were quite vocal about it. Perhaps the growing boys still had growing boys appetites because the rest of us were quite satisfied with the amount of food. Oh well, you can’t please them all. Although it was early, we were running late. So we quickly ate and then Marlon helped us find an open shop where we could buy disposable waterproof cameras to document today’s fun in the water. But first it was time for fun on the land.

We all piled into a bunch of waiting pick up trucks loaded up with mountain bikes and headed up into the highlands. The trucks went up and up and soon we were in the clouds. Our first stop was supposed to be a crater lake but the clouds were so thick that we had to continue on. Somewhere just above the clouds at the top of what seemed like a mountain. We got out and were each kitted out with a mountain bike and a helmet.

“Now we go down the mountain,” Marlon let us know. But first we all tested out our bikes. Good thing because I had no brakes. Better to find that out now than while hurtling down the mountain going a bazillion miles per hour. There were a couple of bike mechanics in the trucks who quickly adjusted and tightened whatever it was that needed to be tightened and adjusted. And then we were off. The road was muddy and unpaved and for the first 45 minutes we went downhill – fast. Even my newly tightened brakes could only take the speed down from to terrifying to scary. I could feel the mud splashing all the way up my butt and back. This was not going to be pretty. Then the road narrowed and got rougher and hillier. Twice I had to get off the bike and walk up the hill. They weren’t huge but I wasn’t expecting them and hadn’t changed gears quick enough. I finally got the hang off it but had to walk one last time over the highest hill. At the top we gathered and Marlon let us know we only had another 20 minutes to go. It was all downhill and paved. We all pushed off excitedly. The road was awesome – there was no peddling and hardly any need for brakes so we all coasted down at breakneck speeds coming to a stop just outside another interpretation centre. Super cool and super fun. And we were all sad that it was over.

We posed for pictures with our dirty backsides, legs and bikes. Then headed into the centre where Marlon gave us a similar lesson in Darwinian evolution as the first guide had. However, this time we understood what was being said. The reason for the biology lesson was waiting just outside. The centre was also a tortoise refuge and soon we were in the midst of dozens of giant tortoises. We walked around and through the first group in awe of these giant cuties and then another group and another before we were taken to the hatchery (or is it nursery) where we saw hundreds of baby tortoises from the smallest to those almost ready to be released. Super cute. We all took at least a hundred photos of these guys. Like the sea lions on the beach, Marlon promised us more to come. And I was sure by day 6 we’d all be sick of them. But at that moment we couldn’t get enough.

Somehow Marlon convinced us to got our muddy butts back into the pick up trucks and we headed back to the crater lake. The clouds had cleared a bit so at least we could see 20 feet in front of us. So we hiked up the side of the old volcano for a view of the lake or at least an attempt to see the lake. We saw only clouds and fog but a little patience and a good gust of wind later for a brief moment we got a misty view of the lake in the old volcano. We could only see half but it was big and beautiful and reminded me of Apoyo in Nicaragua. And as soon as we all snapped a few shots the clouds came back and the view was gone. But that was okay because after that bike ride and the tortoises we were all starving – especially the boys, of course.

The vans took us back to Puerto Moreno to the same restaurant as the day before for the same meal. This time Joy, Stacey and Beat all joined us in adding the popcorn to the soup. I think they were coming around. And just like before, Stacey got fried rice while we got full meals. But she was a good sport and laughed it off. And of course, the boys tried to finagle more food out of the juice nazi, to no avail. Then it was onto the speed boat. Although we weren’t on a cruise, we would be spending a good deal of time out on the water. Not just to get to the other islands, but also to check out the wildlife in the water and perhaps to try and wash some of the biking mud off of us.

The boat took us out to the open sea and I was suddenly glad we hadn’t sailed to Cartagena from Panama because the open sea was rough. The waves were huge with huge swells helped out by the cold wind that was whipping across the water. Yet we were willingly going snorkeling at a place called Kicker Rock. It was a compressed pile of ash that jutted out of the ocean about five kilometers off shore. It was uninhabited except for the hundreds of thousands of birds that lived and crapped all over it, and the fishes “and other surprises” Marlon told us that lived in the waves that crashed up against it. The sea was even rougher closer to the rock. Actually, Kicker Rock was two huge triangular rocks jutting straight up from the water with a narrow channel that ran between them. Marlon pointed to the dark narrow channel as he handed out the snorkel gear. “This is where we go first. The boat will wait on the other side for us so follow me.” And with that he jumped in the choppy water before I could ask if there were any other options

Without the sun to warm it up, the water looked cold, dangerous and the opposite of inviting. However, we’d paid a lot of money for this action-packed tour so we forced ourselves to jump in. C-c-c-old!!! I, as usual, got the wonky snorkel which wouldn’t stay upright and out of the water. It tried to drown me as much as it was supposed to help me breathe and the big waves didn’t help much either. It wasn’t much fun and I decided to just swim through the channel without dawdling. Marlon led the way pointing out sea turtles, giant rays and hundreds of fish that the lads attempted to swim after. This didn’t make Marlon too happy (first rule of snorkel club: don’t hassle the wildlife) but it only got worse when he suddenly shouted SHARK. Sure enough about 5 metres away from us was a small shark swimming parallel to us. As the boys went diving after it, all I could think was get me out of here. Even after surviving my last shark encounter in Panama, I was still deathly afraid and this time the anxiety was made worse by the wonky snorkel. I couldn’t keep my face under water long enough to keep an eye on it. And had no idea if I was swimming away from or closer to the meat eating reef shark. As soon as that fully registered, panic kicked in. I tucked in the dangly bits of my swimsuit (no need to try and bait the shark with bits of me) and attempted to power swim my way through the channel and back on that boat. Just as I was about to pass Marlon, he gleefully pointed down below us, mistaking my proximity to him for keen interest. This time it wasn’t another shark he was pointing out but an entire school of sharks, at least 20 of them! Although they were about 20 metres down below their silhouettes were still big, Jaws big. I don’t think I’ve ever swum as fast as I did at that moment. Marlon tried to point out rays and turtles but I was no longer interested in anything and passed him as fast as my little legs could carry me finally get through the channel and made sure I was the first person back on the boat.

“You’re not afraid of sharks are you? Marlon tried to joke when we were back on the boat.
“Not afraid. Terrified,” I replied humourlessly.
“Don’t worry. There are no sharks at the next snorkel site,” he promised.

Adrian and the rest of the lads groaned with disappointment as the boat continued on to the next snorkel spot. I was wary of getting back in the water so soon. Marlon traded snorkels with me and told me it would be fine this time. And when we pulled up to the Los Lobos site closer to shore, I realized he wasn’t just blowing smoke. The water was sheltered and much calmer. It was also shallower and, most importantly, less shark-infested. Unfortunately it wasn’t warmer. But I soon forgot about the cold. There were fish and sea turtles everywhere as well as sea lions swimming and playing with all of us. They all moved so fast I could only hope I got pictures of them. It was definitely more my speed and I wished we had stopped here first, maybe then I wouldn’t have been so terrified of the sharks (maybe? Perhaps? Probably not). However, I didn’t spend too long in the water. This time it wasn’t sharks that got me out of the water, it was the water itself. After 5 months of the warm Caribbean, the chilly Humboldt Pacific current was too cold for me. And I wasn’t the only one; both Joy and Stacey had blue lips by the time they were back on board. And by the time we got back to shore, the cold wind had given even the fearless boys a case of hard-core goose bumps.

We stopped back at the hotel for a warm shower and dry clothes before heading out to dinner back at the same restaurant. And yes, once again Stacey had fried rice, although this time they added mushrooms. Unfortunately, she hated mushrooms and once she had picked them out was left with about two tablespoons of rice. But she was soon in good company, both Beat and I cut into our fish only to realize it was raw. We summoned over the cranky waiter and asked for it to be cooked. After 20 minutes we realized it wasn’t coming back. Poor Marlon had to go and request some food for us from the juice (and now fish) nazi. We eventually got our plates by which time the lads were already gone. We spotted them across the street in another café scarfing down a pizza. Joy and Stacey left soon afterwards to find Stacey some food while Adrian, Beat and I stayed behind for a drink before heading to back to the hostel and to bed. We’d brought a bottle of rum with us in anticipation of social evenings but it was going untouched with all these early mornings. Tomorrow was yet another action-packed day. I just hoped it didn’t include any more sharks or else I’d be using that rum for Dutch courage rather than socializing.

The great Galapagos getaway begins.

Thanks to Charles Darwin, the Galapagos Islands are one of those places you mention you might visit and people immediately get all excited for you. Everyone imagines bizarre animals and plants on some remote islands way out in the middle of the ocean. Well, we used to be like and now it was our turn to visit them. Unfortunately, when we forked over the money (or rather our credit card) to pay for our great Galapagos getaway the high price was enough to wipe out the excitement of visiting these truly unique places. And it was kinda hard to get any enthusiasm together when the alarm went off just after stupid o’clock. Instead of excitement we were worried. What if we’d seen better things elsewhere? What if our tour sucks? What if we don’t see anything? We did our best to muster up some enthusiasm as we grabbed our bags (with a last minute check to make sure we had nothing in our carryon like a swiss army knife) and headed to the airport. As the taxi approached the airport, I started to feel a bit happier. I actually love airports – they always signal the beginning of a new adventure and a new place (even if it’s traveling for work). Most people think of them as a pain in the butt however, flying is still kinda decadent to me or maybe I’ve just seen too many old movies or been on too many buses lately. The Guayaquil airport only added to this feeling. It was shiny and new and decadent. There was a smoking lounge where we could hang out – it had oversized leather chairs, newspapers, wifi and lattes. Like flying Porter Airlines in Toronto but with cancer. Any way, it was a nice place to wait particularly since our gate was actually behind some locked doors meaning the waiting area at the gate next door was overflowing with people.

When we were finally let onto the plane (only 30 minutes late) the decadent feeling continued. The flight was just over an hour but we served an early lunch with wine. For free. Huzzah and take that other airlines. The decadence ended once we landed at the tiny airport on San Cristobal Island. The airport was an open-air structure not meant to accommodate a plane full of tourists and all the tour company reps, nor the second plane load that landed five minutes after us. Needless to say it was chaos. Every tourist had to go through not just a passport check but also had to pay the $100US tourist entry fee for landing on the islands which are considered a national park. Then we had to wait for the luggage while police dogs sniffed each piece. No, there wasn’t a huge drug problem in the Galapagos. These dogs were sniffing for any plant or animal life being brought into the park. Since most of the tourists appeared to be on some grand tour and carrying their entire wardrobes with them, the process took a long time. In the meantime I found our rep to let her know we were here. About 30 minutes later, we had our bags and met her and another guy and two other girls who were also on our tour. Our rep shuttled us into two pick up truck cabs and dropped us about three blocks away at our hotel. She gave us our room key and told us all we had 15 minutes to unpack and freshen up before we were to meet back for lunch and the beginning of our adventure. Wow already we were on a tight timeline.

Once we were all in the lobby, our rep lead us through the streets of Puerto Moreno, the main city of (and perhaps the only town on) San Cristobal to a small open air restaurant. Now that we were sitting down it was time for a little meet and greet. The two girls were Joy and Stacey from Edmonton (yay, Canadians) and the guy was Pete from Switzerland. Then it was time for the meat and great, aka lunch. It was a typical Ecuadorian almuerzo of soup followed by rice and fish accompanied by a pitcher of juice and a bowl of popcorn. We dug in and tried our best to break that awkward first meeting silence with more than the slurps and burps of lunch. Joy and Stacey were on a four week backpacking vacation through Peru and Ecuador. Pete was on a big round the world trip too. As we were finishing up, our guide let us know that we would be joined by three other lads sitting at another table. Once we were done, she took all of us down to the sea front in town to meet the town sea lions. They were just lounging on the beach. They were close enough that we could touch them but we weren’t allowed to and in fact when we got too close to them they bark their stinky fish breath at us in warning. Of course, Adrian was the one to discover this when he tried to pet one of the baby sea lions.

With hundreds of photos taken by all of us, it was time to move on to the Interpretation Centre just out of town. Here the rep tried to give us all an introduction to the islands and the animals. Unfortunately her English was as good as my Spanish, which means not good enough, especially for the hour long talk. A quick look around and I realized I wasn’t the only one struggling. Oh boy this did not bode well for another 5 days. Thankfully we eventually moved out into the actual park area. With the exception of the town, the entire island was park. Although that word brings to mind images of verdant forests, San Cristobal was anything but. It reminded me of the Yucatan peninsula – all dry and scraggly and rocky. It wasn’t quite what I was imagining the Galapagos to be like – but I’m not sure what I was expecting anyways, perhaps a bunch of small sandy islands in the ocean instead of these big volcanic islands. But I digress once again.

The guide took us up a rocky hill where we got our next taste of the unique Galapagos flora and fauna – a lava lizard which kinda looked like any other small lizard we’ve seen on out trip, and cacti which looked like cacti. I was not feeling particularly impressed but I was feeling a little breathless. The hill we were climbing was high and this girl is not a climber. But I made it up to Darwin’s Point and only slightly behind the others. And good thing because there was something spectacular waiting up top. The view. We could see 360 degrees – across the island, out to the sea. It was spectacular. Down below we even spotted some of the famous blue footed boobies on the guano covered rocks. And in the water more sea lions. Cool. Now that’s more like it. We walked down the hill to the water’s edge.

“Now we go swimming” the guide said. I’m sure this sounds like a good idea to you. But the sun was going down and it wasn’t exactly super warm. And the water? Well we were in the middle of the Pacific and it didn’t look like it was going to warm us up either. But how could any of us say no to a dip off the Galapagos Islands. We put on our suits and gingerly made our way to the water. I say gingerly, because the under our bare feet were lots of sharp volcanic rocks. And to get into the water we had to jump a two foot gap to a bigger rock sitting in the water where we could make our way into the water which was just as cold as I thought it would be – freezing in fact. Despite Joy’s attempts to convince us it got warmer the longer you were in, it didn’t. good thing the sea lions swimming near by were enough to distract us from the temperature for a little while. However, without any snorkel gear to take it all in, it was just a cold swim in the ocean so I wimped out and decided to head back to land and hopefully into the sun.

Getting out proved to be a bit more difficult. I made it to the first rock but trying to bridge that gap back to shore was a little more difficult with my stubby legs. I had to try all sorts of configurations on how to climb over and up before finding the right way back. Phew. I thought I was going to be stuck there for a very long time. When everyone else was through being an ice cube, we headed to a beach full of sea lions to watch the sun set before heading back to the hotel. There was a guy waiting there for all of us. His name was Marlon and he was our guide for the rest of the week, and fluent English speaker. Yay! He took us through tomorrow’s itinerary (all I remember was the fact that we had to meet at 7:30am) and then we went back to the same restaurant for dinner.

Dinner was a chance to hang out and relax and get to know each other. Since Marlon had just met us all we had to reintroduce ourselves and that’s when I realized that Pete was actually Beat. The three lads were now sitting with us but we never found out their names as they were obviously all friends and kept to themselves. The meal was a bit more relaxed than lunch although the food was exactly the same. Soup and popcorn. Followed by rice, fish and salad. Adrian and I introduced the others to the concept of adding the popcorn to the soup which none of them were too keen on trying except Joy. Like us her first reaction was confusion followed by a “not bad”. She’ll soon be hooked I sure. Dinner was tasty except for Stacey’s. She had to wait an extra 20 minutes for her vegetarian dish which should have been easy (same thing no meat) but was instead some measly portion of fried rice just like at lunch time. Poor girl. Marlon promised to help her get something better the next day. What he couldn’t help us get was more juice and when I asked for some more (in my nicest, most polite Spanish), the waiter/chef/owner took all the glasses away like he was some sort of “juice nazi”. Good thing we had the cheesy video montages playing on the tv to keep us amused. They were the most amazing thing – 30 seconds of every hit of the 80s and no more. Watching it was like watching “Name that Tune” but for retro music lovers with ADD. It would have been fun to hang out longer with the crowd – it seemed like we had a good group of 5, plus the 3 anti-social lads - but we were all too aware of the early morning and big day tomorrow.

Shark attack.

When I was far too young I saw Jaws. Ever since then I’ve had both a fascination and extreme fear of sharks. I loved watching nature programs about them but could also freak myself out in a swimming pool imagining that there was a shark in there somewhere – like freak myself out to the point of having to get out of the pool. One of the reasons I decided to finish my certification in Utila was that I’d read that there were sharks further down the coast. I figured that I already had enough stress on my hands with that silly mask skill and didn't need to throw sharks into the mix. Now that I had the certification, I’d forgotten about the possibility that we might meet a shark while diving. How quickly it would come back to me.

In the morning, I tried to have breakfast but my stomach was still doing flip flops. I wasn’t sure if that was my nerves or the remnants of my stomach bug. What ever it was I decided to skip lunch so I’d be okay on the dive. Plus, the sea was looking pretty rough and I didn’t spend my time on the boat hanging our the edge throwing up.

At the dive centre, we met our divemaster, Leandro, and the other guy diving with us, Michael from Denmark. He had all his equipment and I assumed he was a hardcore diver but he’d just finished his certification in Norway and all his equipment is brand new for the trip. In fact, he spent most of the briefing interrupting to ask how to work his dive computer and bcd. The British have a saying that sums him up: All the gear but no idea. Thankfully, Leandro, although he looked about 12, was calm and experienced and patient. My relief was soon replaced by worry when I saw the boat. It was small and I immediately worried about how I’d get back in it after the dive and, more importantly, how it was going to stay afloat in the day’s big waves. Leandro told me not worry and pointed to the small ladder being loaded on. Okay, so that was one concern taken care of but the waves weren’t going anywhere. Sure enough, as we headed out to the dive site called the Garden, the small boat was tossed about and we were fully airborne at least twice. It was a bit too much excitement for me. But it was just the beginning.

In order to get under the water where it was much bound to be much calmer, I had to attempt a back boat entry. I'm not scared of it now. But that first time I was terribly frightened and sat on the edge of the boat hanging on for dear life. Leandro suggested I could put all my equipment on in the water. But I saw the huge waves and quickly decided to take the backward plunge. Even with a flotation device holding us up, the waves continued to crash over us and we submerged as soon as possible to escape them. Unfortunately, the visibility wasn’t the greatest and the reef looked a little lackluster thanks to all the silt but we did see some small rays, lots of parrot fish and a whole bunch of sea cucumbers which looked like giant alien slugs. It was so relaxing and calm under the water that when we resurfaced I had forgotten just how crazy the waves were. But they worked in my favour, pushing me up out of the water and into the boat.

The worst was far from over. On our nailbiting trip back to the dive centre to get new tanks. Michael made the mistake of sitting at the front of the boat. After one too many times of being thrown up in the air, his butt was more than sore so he climbed over the benches further back into the boat. Thankfully, while the new tanks were loaded back into the boat, the wind shifted and the waves calmed down. YAY!!!!!

We headed back out to our second dive site with the uninspired name of 05. I wasn’t expecting much especially since Leandro told us we wouldn’t see anything at first. So I was surprised when we got under the water. The visibility was better. The coral was in better shape. And there were tonnes more fish. Halfway through our dive, Leandro pointed over to an overhang of coral. He made a hand signal, one I’d never seen before. I looked over expected to see another fish. There was nothing. I looked again and then realized what he was pointing at. It wasn’t a small colourful fish; it was a gigantic 2 metre, grey-coloured shark lurking under the overhang. My heart jumped up into my throat and as my momentum carried me towards the coral and the shark, I tried to swim backwards. When that failed I peeled off from the front of the group to the back, and hoped if Jaws got hungry it would pick someone else off first (not Adrian of course). Leandro all but laughed at me, and when I looked back at the shark, it hadn’t moved and appeared to sleeping. Okay so Jaws wasn’t going to make lunch out of one of my limbs today but I didn’t dare get any closer. Even as we swam away along the reef, I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t following us. I think we saw some pretty amazing fish too, but all I could remember was the outline of Jaws under the coral.

Once we were safely back in the boat, Leandro informed us it was a nurse shark and almost completely harmless. Instead of rows of razor sharp teeth as big as our hands, it has a gummy denture-free mouth. I was still a little shaky having come face-to-face to a childhood fear but Adrian decided that he really likes diving now. Appropriately, we had fish and chips for dinner that night. Too bad the fish wasn’t shark; maybe eating one would help me get over my fear of being eaten by one.

Sloth – the cutest of the seven deadly sins.

Cahuita was cheap (for Costa Rica) so we were in no hurry to do or see everything. So we took a day off. Well it was a day off from enjoying the beach and doing fun things like laundry and getting Adrian a haircut. The barber was a teenager named Blin Blin, not to be confused with Bling Bing, he told us. At $8 it wasn’t much of deal but it was needed. Blin Blin tried to improve his profit margin by trying to sell us some dope. He didn’t make any money off us but that appeared to be his main source of income. More people stopped by for dope than they did for a haircut. Back at the hostel, I worked on the blog and looked into some stuff about Panama while Adrian spent the day hanging in the café next door watching the soccer. It was a beautiful day so there was some guilt associated with doing nothing but it was worth it. And the perfect day ended with good food at an Argentinian restaurant (run by a couple from Quebec) and a phone call home with even better news.

Of course, the next morning the sun was replaced by grey clouds and pouring rain. Oops perhaps we should have done something yesterday. But a quick look at the weather satellite showed the clouds clearing in the next couple of hours. So we had a lazy breakfast and let the guy at the desk know that we were staying a few more days. In keeping with our sloth theme we decided to head to the sloth sanctuary. Plus my sister is obsessed with sloths and I figured some pictures of them would make her happy. There were tours advertised around town at $40 per person . But we decided to go on our own and save ourselves some cash – you know me, always looking for a better price.

The rain stopped at noon and we headed to the bus station to catch a bus back out on the highway. We had seen the sanctuary on our way into Cahuita from Limon however not knowing the word for sloth made it nearly impossible to buy our tickets. Refugio? Sanctuario? Animales? I went through my list of words. Finally the ticket guy got the gist of what I was asking, said something I didn’t quite catch and sold us two tickets for less than a dollar – a much better price. Soon the bus arrived and I repeated my list of words to the ayudante trying to indicate where we wanted to get off. He immediately knew what I meant and told the driver where we were going.

The bus ride would have taken about 20 minutes but the police stopped the bus at a checkpoint. An officer boarded the bus and began checking the id, and baggage of everyone on board. It was the most thorough checkpoint we’d been through until the guy apparently got bored and stopped after checking Adrian’s passport. Once we got going again, it wasn’t too long until the bus driver called out Aviaros del Caribe a few times. It wasn’t until he motioned to us that I realized that’s what the sanctuary was called.

Now it was time to arrange a tour. The woman at the desk seemed a bit confused where we had come from. I guess most people come on a tour or by car and not by the public bus. She offered us a guided tour for $25 each. Ouch, but it did include a canoe trip through the canals, video as well as a visit with the sloths. The canoe tour was a mini version of our time in Tortuguero so Adrian and I had to feign interest as the boatman pointed out birds, lizards, crabs and monkeys. He stopped for a moment and asked if could have a minute. Adrian and I thought he was taking a bathroom break but he came back with a big bunch of tropical flowers for me. How sweet.

Back to shore we were met by a young American guy who took us on the sloth part of our guided tour. I wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or trying to be funny and sarcastic - probably a combination of both. But all that was forgotten when he first took us to see the baby sloths. There were 10+ and it was feeding time. A couple of volunteers were feeding the little ones by hand – formula for the youngest and fruits, veg and dog food for the slightly older ones. Some could barely lift there heads up off the table as they shoveled the food into their mouths. It was sickenly adorable.

The sanctuary had both two and three fingered sloths which are completely different animals but they’re both super cute. Most of the sloths were orphaned when their mothers were run over by a car trying to cross the highway. Or abandoned when the mother gave birth to more than one at a time. At the sanctuary, they did their best to try to teach the sloths how to live in the wild but it was almost impossible to reintroduce them into the wild. So their future was a spoiled sloth filled one (sorry more puns) here at the Aviaros del Caribe.

Then we were introduced to Buttercup (photo above). At 17 years old she was the oldest sloth in the facility and it’s with her that the sanctuary started. When she was just a baby, local kids brought her to the family who were known for taking in and rehabilitating other local animals. As the family researched how to take care of sloths, they became taken up with their plight. And of course they began adopting more and more. But Buttercup was their baby and equally attached to the owners. Our guide was the grandson of the owners and had grown up with Buttercup who kept reaching out to him to be picked up. More super cuteness.

Next we watched the video on the sloth and the centre. It was super cheesy involving a guy with a British accent singing a song about the sloth ballet. No it was worse than I’ve made it sound. But it also had lots of information on sloths and the mission of the sanctuary which was a good primer for our visit to the adult enclosure. There were another 6 adult sloths here which meant 6 times more cuteness. Adrian distracted our guide by talking about the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. He was convinced that it was sloths not dolphins that were the real intellects of the planet. And considering they’d convinced this family to house and feed them for the last two decades, maybe he was right.

We said goodbye to the staff and the sloths and got to the highway just in time to catch the bus back. Good thing since it only comes every hour. And back in Cahuita, we applied all our newfound sloth techniques to do nothing for the rest of the day before heading to a nearby restaurant for their 2-4-1 cocktails. Margaritas were followed by piña coladas, by monkey madness by another unnecessary round of pinã coladas. Tomorrow, we promised, we’d get out and explore a bit more.

Early mornings are for the birds.

If you’ve ever had the pleasure, ahem, of trying to deal with me before 11am, you know I’m not a morning person. So you can imagine how I was on this the second day in a row of getting up at 5am. My ‘super’ mood was compounded by the shampoo explosion I discovered in my bag. Thankfully Adrian came to the rescue and washed everything and packed up. Probably out of fear more than anything (no, really, I am that miserable in the morning). After our breakfast of eggs, rice and beans, we headed off with our bags to meet Fran, Eddie and the boat. We were off for another birdwatching tour. Oh yay (yes that was sarcasm). Actually, the tour was better than the first one. Not only was the boat trip an hour shorter. But we also had binoculars and a bird chart this time so we could actually see what was being pointed out to us. And the route was more picturesque as we passed by the misty peak of an old volcano. This time we managed to see caymens, as well as sloths and birds and a troupe of capuchin monkeys jumping through the trees chasing a howler monkey or two. That was pretty cool, although impossible to photograph so you’ll just have to trust me. The closest we came to an animal was a bunch of river turtles (photo above) who swam right up to me in the boat. I felt like the turtle whisperer but made sure to keep my fingers far from the top of the water in case they liked to bite.

Once we were back in Moin, it was time to settle up our bill. We had to pay with a combination of cash and travelers cheques, reminding me just how over budget the tour was. Because we weren’t going back to San Jose, Fran did knock $40 off the total but it still hurt. We’d have to scrimp at our next stop to try and make up the huge deficit. But first we had to catch a taxi to Limon. I asked the driver how much and for a refreshing change, he put on the metre. He dropped us off at the bus station – wait bus station is a strong word – the cab driver dropped us off at the bus office. And once again we had a pleasant surprise, as the bus fare was only $3 for both of us. Maybe we will recoup our costs after all.

The bus was comfy and the ride along the Caribbean coast was quick. The sea wasn’t the azure colour of Mexico or Cuba due to the grey, almost black, sand but the sky was blue and there was a nice breeze. And soon we were in Cahuita, a small town 2 hours from the Panamanian border. It was another pleasant surprise. Unlike the rest of Costa Rica, it was chilled and laid back and for the first time we saw more locals than tourists. We walked to the middle of town and began our search for a room. Our first choice was booked so we started walking around town before coming full circle and ending up across the street from the first place. The room was basic with a cold shower and a bed with foam mattress but they had wifi and it was only $20.

With all that out of the way, my priority was calling home. With the wifi and no phone offices in view, I decided to finally join the modern era and download Skype. Then of course I felt stupid for not doing it earlier. It was easy and cheap. And it worked. I finally talked to my mom and found out the news was a bit better, not great, but better. At least we had talked which made us both feel good. I started out as grumpy guts but ended up a happy camper.

Birdwatching is for the birds.

The alarm went off at 5am. It was surprisingly easy to get out of bed probably because sleep had been fleeting thanks to a lot of worry. But we had little time to worry about that as a van was coming to pick us up just after 6am. And it was right on time. We were met by Fran and Modesto, an American and Nicaraguan wife and husband team, who had been running tours to Tortuguero for the last 21 years. They were highly recommended but that came at a price - $175US each for two days and one night in the small town. Looking back that was way too much money, but at the time Costa Rica had tainted our sense of affordability.

Already in the van was a young couple Anthony and Sarah from LA, they were quiet and shy or just as tired as the rest of us at the early hour. And we stopped to pick up two more Americans, Lisa and Brenda, niece and aunt from Oregon. Brief introductions were made and was able to figure the reason for the high tour price – it was aimed more at the holiday maker than the backpacker. And in fact Anthony and Sarah were just beginning their 10 day trip and Lisa and Brenda were just wrapping up theirs. I just reminded myself that it was recommend and hoped it was worth it. Thankfully, that price included a stop at a breakfast buffet where we had a Nicaraguan breakfast, I mean Costa Rican breakfast of rice and beans, eggs, plantains and fruit. Then it was back on the road. We crossed over the continental divide while I was asleep, arriving in Moin at about 8:30.

Moin is essentially a port – I’m sure there was a town somewhere but all we saw was a giant shipping port. We passed by ships loaded up with Dole pineapples, Chiquita bananas, and dozens of others without brand names all headed to parts unknown. The van pulled up at a little hotel and restaurant on a canal behind the port. We were loaded onto a small lancha and began the next phase of the trip on route to Tortuguero. Our boat captain Eddie took us through the canals built by the fruit and logging companies to expedite the exports to North America. Now they were used instead of roads to get to the remote towns on the Caribbean shore. Fran and Eddie were awesome at finding and pointing out birds, bats, monkeys, crocodiles and sloths hanging out in the jungle that still lined the canals and rivers. Although most were too far away to get a good shot of. It was great – for the first hour but by the fourth hour we were all getting a little anxious to get to Tortuguero in our sleep deprived state. Plus, without an interest in birds it was a little much.

Finally we pulled up to Tortuguero. It was not so much a town as it was a jumble of houses and shops on thin strip of land between the canal and the sea. There wasn’t even a road just a dusty path that we followed to get to our room for the night. For the money we were paying, I expected our accommodations to be among the best we’d experienced. But our room was no different than any other room we’d had. It was clean with a private coldwater shower but no fancier than any other room we’d stayed in during our trip. Although looking out over the beach was nice.

Anxious to freshen up, we took a cool dip in the small swimming pool. We felt almost human and then headed out to the conservation area to learn about the sea turtles – that was, afterall, the reason we were up here. Tortuguero was named for the sea turtles that nest on the beach for 6 months of the year. Leatherback nesting season had just ended last month and the green turtle had yet to begin officially for another couple of weeks. But we were here so we crossed our fingers that turtles couldn’t read calendars and would start early this year. The conservation area was a small hut chock full of information on the history of the turtle program. It was begun in the 50s by an American named Archie something who noted the dangerous overfishing of turtles in the area and warned the government of potential extinction. It took a few years but they finally listened and let him set up the Caribbean Conservation Centre, to educate the locals about turtles and convinced them to stop the slaughter. Now it was run by his grandson and a bunch of other scientists.

Back at the hotel, we signed up for a night hike to search for nesting turtles but were warned that there was less than a 50/50 chance of seeing them. Oh well, I felt like gambling today. It was still a few hours before dark so Adrian and I set off in search of a phone to call home. The best tiny Tortuguero could offer was $2 phone cards that would only provide 5 minutes of talk time which wasn’t much help. We passed and found the only internet café in town to send an email home explaining the predicament.

For dinner we went to Miss Junnie’s, a restaurant known as much for its role in the history of the town as it was for its food. It was started as a café to feed the fruit and logging company employees. Then when the loggers and fruit pickers left, Miss Junnie adapted her business to serve the scientists and conservationists. And the town grew around the restaurant. Now 60 years later her granddaughter serves the same delicious home cooked food to hungry tourists. The food was good but we had to wait 1.5 hours for it. We quickly gobbled it down and rushed off to start our turtle trek.

Back at the hotel, we met up with Lisa, Brenda, Anthony and Sarah and our local guide and began our 2 hour trek along the beach. Despite the heavy duty lightening show over the sea, it was pitch dark. It was also very windy but still incredibly hot and humid. In the dark we didn’t find any signs of turtles but I did manage to find a coconut, a stone, a large tree branch and a couple of holes left behind by kids digging sand castles by tripping over them. The branch sent me flying and thanks to the layer of sweat on my skin I got up covered in sand. We passed another 20 people also searching for signs of the turtles before turning back. Oh well, we tried.

Once in the light of our hotel room I got a shock looking in the mirror. Despite shaken and wiping off what seemed like buckets of sand, I was covered in a thick layer of black sand. A long shower helped to get rid of most of it but I knew I’d be finding sand in my scalp and ears for the next week or so. It had been an exhausting day so we collapsed on the bed. No turtles. No phone call home. We were feeling very unaccomplished

Frogs, butterflies and card games, oh my.

We had a lot of question marks when we woke up this morning. Where were we going to stay in Arenal? What were we going to do our last day in Monteverde? How much money was everything going to cost? I had no luck with my email enquiries so I kept looking. And when that got boring Adrian made the executive decision that we were going to visit the Ranario, or Frog Pond. Not only was it just up the hill and around the corner, it was one of the cheaper things to do that Ronnie highly recommended.

The Ranario was a mini zoo that had both a frog exhibit as well as a butterfly garden. We opted to see both starting with the butterfly garden. Our own personal tour guide led us through the 5 different butterfly enclosures. He was super knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the butterflies which made it very interesting. The enclosures were set in beautiful gardens and woods which the guide explained were only there to provide a steady stream of plants for the enclosures. Apparently, the caterpillars are such voracious eaters that all the plants have to be replaced every three months. And we saw some of that destruction in action as the guide pointed out hundreds of caterpillars munching on banana leaves, as well as multiple pupae, and of course butterflies of many different species. My favourites were the vivid big blue morphos (photo above).

The guide took us back to the main building and introduced us to another guide who took us through the frog exhibits. His English wasn’t as good as the butterfly guide’s so the information was limited. But he was great at finding the tiny frogs amongst the vegetation. Considering most were miniscule and very good at hiding that made him worthwhile. However, we were there during the day and most of the frogs were nocturnal so we didn’t see many. Good thing the entry price allowed us to come back in the evening to search again.

We headed back to the hostel just before it started to pour rain. Safely inside we set to work trying to find that elusive reasonably priced place to stay in La Fortuna/Arenal. Ronnie tried to convince us to take the tourist shuttle called the jeep boat jeep for $25 each but if our room was going to cost $50 that didn’t leave much money for sightseeing. Two American girls, Terri and Hina were similarly struggling. As I was searching I found one place that seemed almost too good to be true – it was only $20 a night for a room with a private bath. I told them about it and they immeditately booked it. I kept searching and discovered a super nice place near town on the lava side of the volcano, El Castillo. It would take a bit longer to get there but it looks awesome. There’s a fireplace, small pool and hot tub and all that for only $30 a night. It called itself a backpackers spa. Sold. Using the super slow internet, it took an hour to get the booking completed. But I finally got an email confirmation. I told Hina and Terri and they joked that I had been holding out on them. Well, after three days of searching I was just happy to have found something.

Now we had to figure out how to get to El Castillo. It was closer to Monteverde but we’d still have to go the long way around to La Fortuna, then take another hour bus to El Castillo. Tomorrow was going to be a long travel day regardless so we decided to just stick with the public bus even when Ronnie dropped the shuttle price to $20. Hina and Terri said they’d join us at 6am on the public bus. They were two high school science teachers and incredibly friendly that having them with us would definitely help pass the time. Unless, of course, the rain washed out the roads. As it continued to pour this seemed like a possibility, especially when the hillside across from Sleepers came tumbling down into the road.

When the rain let up slightly we headed into town for dinner and then back to Ranario to see the frogs in action at night. This time we were each handed a torch and told to go searching. Adrian and I surprisingly remembered all the different places each species preferred to hang out in and were able to find even more than our day trip. We felt like kids on a school trip but it was surprisingly fun. Who doesn’t like to runaround in a dark zoo with flashlights? Unfortunately, the dark meant it was very hard to take any photos but I gave it a good try.

Back at the hostel, Hina and Terri had managed to organize a bunch of folks from nearby hostels to come over and play cards. The plan was to meet at another hostel but apparently Ronnie was the only owner that allowed guests. So crowded around the kitchen tables were 5 Swedes, 2 guys from Northern Ireland, Hina and Terri, English Marie and I (Adrian was playing his PSP in the room). We played a round of Sh*thead otherwise known as A*shole, and something called Horseracing before it was lights out at the hostel. It was only 10pm but since Hina, Terri, Adrian and I had to catch the 7am bus to Tilaran, and the Irish guys were catching the 4:30 bus to San Jose, 10pm lights out was probably a very good thing indeed.

When in the 51st state, you have to visit Eco Disney.

When your daily budget is only $100 CN and tours are $25 US per person, one activity can eat up have your budget before you’re eaten or slept. The big thing that people do in Monteverde is ziplining through the cloud forest. Not exactly our thing and with a $35-$40 US price tag (each) it was less appealing. Plus how much can you see when you’re traveling that fast? So after a delicious and ample breakfast (granola, fruit, egg, toast and coffee) served by Ronnie’s wife, we booked the old fart option of a sky walk for $25 each. Breakfast wasn’t the only great thing about Sleepers. The shower was absolutely the best we’ve had in three months on the road. There was plenty of really hot water with matching water pressure. Maybe they didn’t have wifi our a lively crowd but it the shower and hospitality more than made up for it.

At 10:30 sharp the minivan arrived for us. We headed up and around and down the bumpy roads to the Selvatour canopy adventure park. The ticket office looked like a version of Eco Disney World. Absolutely pristine and western and everyone spoke perfect English. Actually Eco Disney is exactly what all of Costa Rica reminded me of. I knew that it was an actual country and people lived here but it seemed like the tourist industry did everything to separate us tourists from them. Gringos didn’t take regular public buses. Tipico Tico restaurants were tucked out of sight on back streets. Attractions had lineups, information booklets, handrails and safety warnings. After 3 months of relative roughing it, it made us wrinkle our noses just a bit. I guess that stuff is great if you’re only here for a week (in fact we saw a school group from Canyon View High pull up in their tour bus). You can seamlessly travel without having to deal with culture shock. But we’d been traveling for three months, eating traveling and sightseeing locally. Costa Rica was beautiful but it was feeling a bit sterile and made us feel like we were using the country rather than experiencing it.

But I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, the canopy walk. The canopy walk was a series of 8 suspension bridges and a 4 km paved trail through the cloud forest. It was pretty but we saw very little wildlife. That wasn’t surprising since every five minutes someone came ziplining overhead screaming and yelling and generally scaring anything within a 1km radius. Still it was a lovely walk that took us through clouds, the rain, the cold, some sunshine, and finally the heat during the hour and a half circuit. But it also wasn’t something I’d pay $25 US for ($15 tops). It made us reconsider what other sights we were going to see.

On the way back, we got off in town to find a bank machine. The first one we found wouldn’t let us take money out. So we had a tipico lunch of fried chicken (no really, it’s the national dish here) but the portions were so big we had to split one order. We walked back to the hostel through town which was mostly a collection of tour offices and souvenir shops. We tried to find a second bank, following a sign that pointed down a road but after a 20 minute hike uphill along a foggy deserted road, we realized the sign probably assumed we were driving and wherever the bank was it was too far away to walk. On the way back so, I spotted a different bank on the horizon but that could wait. Our feet were tired and it had begun to rain.

We made it back to the hostel just before it began to pour. I found an intermittent wifi signal and began the search for our next place to stay. We were headed to La Fortuna to see the Arenal volcano. Or not. I couldn’t find a place for less than $50/night. Yikes and Ouch. Hoping that the quotes were incorrect I sent out some email inquiries just before losing the wifi signal. Adrian wanted to do the night tour so we signed up for that and then chatted to some new guests a gay couple from Australia and an English girl. We swapped stories and travel tips until the van pulled up for Adrian and I’s night tour. She invited us all out for drinks when we got back. Sounds like fun but we’ll have to see how our legs hold up after the night hike.

The minivan pulled up and drove to the outskirts of the town to a big fancy hotel. At first I thought we were picking up more people but the driver opened the door and told us this was it. From the lobby of the hotel we could see all the way across to the Gulf of Nicoya. We have enough time to snap some pictures before the guide appears and takes us into the forest on the grounds of the hotel as the sun begins to set.

I don’t know how he did it but the guide is amazing at spotting minute bugs, birds and frogs in the pitch black night. Supposedly we even see a sloth with a baby but even through the binoculars it looks just like a dirty beige blob in a tree. I began to suspect that the guide or hotel has just placed stuffed animals up in the trees before we headed out. Until of course the animals move and run away. We also saw a bunch of agoutis, and a tarantula but we all missed the fox that ran through our puny flashlight beams and then remained hidden. The walk was much more interesting than the canopy walk and at $17 it was cheaper too. But I was also glad when it was over. The 5:30 start time meant we hadn’t eaten dinner and were absolutely starving by the time we got back to the hostel just before 8. Costa Rica may feel like Eco Disney but it was still lacking the Disney concessions. So as soon as we got back we gobbled down dinner and decided to pass on the drinks with Marie from London. There was always tomorrow.

No one here gets out alive. Just kidding, sort of.

0800 hours: arrival at Mayan Walk Tours complete
0801 hours: team debriefing.
0806 hours: rations distributed.
0811 hours: awaiting transportation to embarkation point.

Today was really not about fun. Our guides, Martin and Patrick, were not smiling and it had nothing to do with the early hour. Nope caving was serious business and as they handed out the safety equipment – hard hats and head lamps – they made sure we understood this.

Uh-Oh. I was starting to get worried. This sounded like hard work and not being the most physically fit person I wasn’t sure I’d be up for it. I had plenty of time to get rethink our plan during the hour-long ride to the base camp in Tapir Mountain Reserve that started off on a highway and ended on a dirt path.

There was even more time to reconsider during the 45 minute hike through the jungle that had us crossing a river three times. The guides pointed out different types of plants and their uses but I just wanted to get to the cave. By the time we arrived at the base camp, we were sweaty, dirty and wet and we had barely started. But the hike hadn’t been that hard so I figured maybe I was overreacting.

Although it was only 10:30 we were advised to eat some of our food. Adrian and I had a big breakfast before leaving but picked at our hearty portion of chicken and rice ‘n’ beans. We stowed our backpacks and Patrick packed up our cameras and socks in his dry bag before giving us our final instructions.

Then it was off to the cave. The cave opening was a deep pool of water (above) that we had to swim across. It was refreshing after the hike but soon I realized why we had the hard hats and head lamps. There was no light in the cave and as we walked further in it was soon pitch black which made climbing over the rocks even more difficult.

Patrick paused while I put my shoes on tight. And good thing because the rocks were sharp, slippery and required good footing to get over. They also required a lot of work to climb with Patrick being incredibly patient and a great teacher to a neophyte rock climber like me.

“Get small. Stand tall. Get on that booty God gave you.” These were the instructions he gave to me. And I was thankful that Adrian and I were in the small group with just two other guys and the guide. It meant there was no stress about hurrying or crowding in some of the small rock ledges. It was not just physically stressful but mentally as we had to constantly be aware of where are feet and hands needed to go so we wouldn’t go crashing to the sharp rocks below.

There were a couple of times when I thought I’d have to be left behind. But with determination and Patrick’s help I got through.

“Now it’s the easy part,” Patrick promised. Thank god. And it was a relatively flat section that gave us a chance to take in the amazing limestone ceilings and walls. Adrian thought they looked like stuff from a science fiction movie. The water had dripped down in waves that were called curtains or formed lumpy piles of crystal and rock that appeared in front of us. Sometime we saw bats hidden in crevices. Then we all turned off our headlamps and sat in the complete darkness of the cave. It was creepy and calming at the same time.

Then it was off again for another 45 minute hike. And the second half was not easy. We had climb up to a rock ledge that was 20 feet off the ground. And another one. Not high but when nothing but jagged rocks are down below and there’s no stairs, it’s plenty scary. I’m not sure if I was shaking because of exertion or because of fear. But I made it up.

Once up, Patrick announced that it was time to take off our shoes and put on our socks. I looked around at the rock floor. No shoes? This was going to be painful.

“Just think of it like reflexology on your feet.” Patrick suggested. Sure it’s like a massage, if the person giving it was muscle-bound sadistic torture artist with razors for fingers. Thankfully, I was distracted by the first Mayan remains.

There were ceremonial pots lying on the rock floor left there during the last thousand years as an offering to the gods. We could see soot marks left by ancient fires as well as crystals caused by cave environment. All Adrian and I could think of was how did they get here. Patrick pointed out where to walk so that we wouldn’t damage anything. Those Mayans must have been pretty determined or had an awesome guide like Patrick.

But there weren’t just pots. There were skulls of human sacrifices, crystallized like the post making it even spookier. At the back of the large cavern, there was a 12-foot ladder precariously leaning against the rock wall.

“Now we go up,” Patrick insisted.

It was terrifying but at least there were solid and smooth steps. The ladder led to another smaller cavern at the end of which lay a complete skeleton.

This was the end of the trip and my heart started racing. Not because the skeleton was scary but because I knew that we’d have to get back out of the cave. I was tired and not sure I’d be able to make it. But I did thanks to the patience and guidance of Patrick and Adrian’s knee which I required to get over some of the rocks that my short legs couldn’t reach.

I have to admit I was happier to jump into the pool at the mouth of the cave than I was to see the skeleton because it meant we were through with the cave.

“I’m really proud of you Liz,” Patrick said to me. “You did it. Congratulations. You should be proud” I guess he couldn’t see the anxiety in my eyes nor my shakey hands as I chain smoked back at the base camp. I was so stressed that I couldn’t finish the rest of my lunch and I gave it to Adrian.

Now I just wanted to get out of there. But hoped I had enough energy left for the hike back to the truck. On the way back, there was a reminder of what could have happened. We passed a group of rescue workers carrying a stretcher towards the cave. They were doing training exercises, not an actual rescue. It just reinforced the danger and increased my anxiety.

Once back at the truck. I couldn’t be bothered to change into my clothes and collapsed in my seat trying to relax after the hike. Some of the other hikers from Martin’s group talked about getting a drink afterwards but when we got off at the tour office, Adrian and I headed across the street to our room for a hot shower, clean clothes and a celebratory nap.

We’d survived ATM. I think.

Iguana see some ruins.

The weird thing about our time in Belize so far was that we’d talked with very few Belizeans with the exception of Belize City and that’s because the expats are too scared to go there. Expats were everywhere, understandable I guess considering that only 25 years ago Belize was still a British colony so not only is there plenty of sun and sand it’s relatively stable politically AND they speak English. In San Ignacio, I thought it might be a bit different. It’s located far from the beach, up in the jungle near the Guatemalan border. But during our first day we’d only encountered expats: our hotel was owned by a Brit, the travel agency/tour company next door was owned by another Brit; even the server in Café del Sol was a Brit who came here with his Belizean wife 20 years ago but she went back to the UK and he stayed. What this meant for Adrian was a chance to get a proper English breakfast. He was momentarily disappointed by the lack of black pudding until he spied the steaming pile of baked beans. “Luvely”, he proclaimed.

Being surrounded by expats also meant that we were able to get more great tips on what to do and see in San Ignacio. And there were many things as long as you wanted to see either ruins or caves. We decided to start off with what we knew and also what was closest and headed to the ruins of Cahal Pech.

We didn’t want or expect much. After all we were now a little rusty at sightseeing. Cahal Pech was perfect. There was a little museum to start with which explained the history of the Mayans and included some of the stuff that had been excavated from the site. And the ruins were nice too. We had the whole place to ourselves so Indiana Barret was free to run around, climb over walls and explore while demanding that I take a picture of him every two minutes. Not only were there no other visitors, there was no gauntlet of souvenir sellers to navigate which made it a very relaxing and fun experience.

On our walk back to town we stopped in at the most exclusive hotel in town. Not to see how the other half lives, nor to check out the royal suite where Queen Liz stayed a few years back. No we were there to see some iguanas.

The San Ignacio Resort Hotel was also home to an iguana preservation project. And after we notified the concierge about our intentions, we were given a private tour of it, for a donation. Our guide David led us past the people lounging by the swimming pool and the tennis courts, through the perfectly landscaped forest which was actually a medicinal garden. David pulled two round fruit off one tree.

“Do you know what there are?” David asked.
“No.” Adrian and I replied.
“Well what do they look like?” he continued.
“Um they bare a resemblance to er um a certain…” I stumbled for the polite words.
“Balls,” blurted out Adrian.
David smiled and nodded in agreement. “We call them cahones de mono. You can’t eat them but the sap makes a glue which is good for bot fly bites.”
“Bot fly bites?” Adrian had to ask.
“Yes, the flies that lay their eggs in your skin. To get the maggots out you put this sap over the bite and it kills them so you can get them out.”
“Baby?!?” hypochondriac Adrian paniced.
“Let’s see some iguanas” I jumped in hoping to distract him another ailment he would soon be convinced he had.

David took us to the iguana enclosure and explained the program. Essentially iguanas are threatened thanks to their use as jungle chicken by locals. The program educates kids about the iguanas’ importance to the environment and most importantly why they shouldn’t eat them. It is also trying to increase the iguana population by gathering eggs in the wild then hatching and raising the iguanas until they are big enough to have a chance to survive. David then threw open the doors and brought us inside.

All around us were dozens of foot long iguanas. David introduced us to two long-term residents Gomez and Pedro. Both were too tame to release back into the wild although they weren’t tame with each other. When the two were brought close to each other, they put up their spikes and made weird noise. But once apart they were tame enough that we could pet them.

In the second enclosure, the young iguanas were kept and there were hundreds of tiny bright green ones everywhere. David placed one on our hands and them kept piling them on us until we had iguanas on our heads, shoulders, and arms. I tried to pat one of the little ones but he whipped his tail at me. The iguana may have been small but he was feisty.

“Oh that’s their defense mechanism” David informed me.

Thanks for the warning David. That stung. But David redeemed himself by making sure we didn’t step in any of the numerous piles of iguana shit that looked remarkably like dog turds for easy identification. It was a great experience made better by David’s obvious passion and care for the iguanas.

It was only mid-afternoon so we returned to the internet café for a bit before we went to one of the tour offices to see what we could do the next day. We ruled out more ruins (we still had to save something for Tikal) which left caving. Did we want cave tubing? Cave swimming? Cave walking? Or cave horseback riding? In the end we opted for the one that offered cave skeletons – Actun Tunichil Muknal, or ATM for short – because caves are spooky and cool and so are skeletons. Together they’d be even spookier and cooler. Of course the spooky/cool factor was slightly diminished when after handing over $150US we were handed a one-page packing list - backpack, 1 litre of water minimum, a change of clothes, sturdy shoes, swimsuit with shorts – and a brief itinerary. 1 hour hike, 25 metre swim, and 2 hour cave climb. Scary. And also exciting. Today had been fun but tomorrow we were in for an adventure.

Russians are crazy

January 26, 2008 - Cayo Largo

When I booked our trip to Chase Che, I got caught up in the moment and booked another tour immediately afterwards. Despite the good times and good people on the last tour, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. But alas, the next morning we were off to Cayo Largo, starting at.... 5am!!!

Jarred awake by the hotel wake up call, I poked and prodded Adrian to get him moving too. We shuggishly packed our bags for a day on the water. It was then that Adrian realized he'd lost his sunglasses, most likely left on the bus. I think we were both too tired to be upset and simply chalked it up as a travel expense.

At 5:15 our ride arrived; unlike our other tour there was no bus and no tour guide, just a taxi and a driver who spoke English like I spoke Spanish - in other words, very poorly. He was attempted to communicate something to us and gave me a piece of paper with an address. 

Him: blahblahblahgrafasblahblahblahblah yes?

Me: no entiendo, hable mas gazpacho señor? (what I wanted with vegetable soup I don't know)

Him: blah.blah.blah.grafas.blah.blah.blah.

Me: repita por favor.

We went back and forth for 10 minutes, and eventually, something clicked in my head. Grafas. Sunglasses! The tour company had Adrian's sunglasses and we could pick them up at the Havana address on the paper. Well at least I think that's what he said. I looked at the paper but had no idea where in Havana the address was. But the driver pointed it out on the Lonely Planet map for me. With that mystery solved, he ushered us into the taxi and began driving. Adrian and I had no idea where we were going. And our driver couldn't explain much. I noticed signs that said Havana. But still didn't know what was going on until the driver pulled into a very small terminal at Jose Marti airport. He let us out and drove away without any further explanation. 

So there we were at an airport, with no tickets, no flight times and no idea where we supposed to go. There were lineups at all the check in counters but no Cubatur signs. hmm... I checked the departure boards and saw that there is a flight to Cayo Largo at 7. Oh and there's another at 8. And another at 9. And every hour. Oh dear.

I approached the information desk and handed my receipt to the woman behind the desk.

"Donde?" I asked. 

She looked at the paper, shrugged and gave it back to me. 

"No, where do we go" I asked in English, slower and probably louder. 

"Blahblahblahblahgrafasblahblah" She replied with an annoyed look. 

Grafas? I looked at the paper in my hand and realized I'd given her the address where Adrian had to pick up his sunglasses in Havana. Oops. I pulled out the receipt and tried again. The woman merely waved in the direction of the check in counters and gave me back the receipt in a way that let me know we were dismissed. 

We walked in the direction she pointed. There were people with suitcases milling around but no one that looked like a tour guide. Adrian and I found a seat and waited not knowing what else to do. I think we both zoned for half an hour and only snapped out of it when I heard someone calling "Ahdrayahn? Ahdrayahn?" Could that be us? I ran in the direction of the voice. A woman grabbed the passports out of my hands and then handed me two blank boarding passes, then continued to call out names. 

Dismissed once again and still clueless, we went through security only to find ourselves in a cramped boarding area chock full of people. Flights were called out - Guantanamo, Holguin, Cayo Coco, but no Cayo Largo. 30 minutes passed, then 45, when we heard an announcement "blahblahblahAhdrayahnWiyamsblahblahblahsecurity". We ignored it since that wasn't either of us but how many Adrians could there be in the airport? The announcement was made 3 more times, each time more urgent and each time ignored by us. Then a beefy, impatient security guy nabbed Adrian and demanded that he come with him - I wasn't invited  and no explanation was provided. As they disappeared one hundred different thoughts ran through my head and many of them involving rubber gloves and duct tape. But 15 minutes later Adrian reappeared. Since Adrian speaks no Spanish he's still not sure what they wanted except it had to do with his luggage. He explained that we didn't have any and they let him go. Weird. 

At 8:30, there was a boarding call for Cayo Largo. I had no idea if this was our flight but I figured if it wasn't they'd tell us and perhaps even let us know which one was. But they let us on the plane with our blank boarding passes. And we were off for the 30 minutes flight south to Cayo Largo. 

We flew past Havana and over the Caribbean Sea - the water was so clear we could see the reefs below the surface. When we disembarked at Cayo Largo airport, we were still clueless about where we were going. I spotted the woman who had handed me the boarding passes at the Havana airport and followed her. She got on a tour bus full of other non-Cubans and didn't kick us off. The doors closed and we began to drive off; Adrian and I hoped we were in the right spot. 

5 minutes later the bus driver let everyone off at a small marina. But no one had yet to tell us what was going on. I could see the boarding pass woman talking to other people from the bus; they were having long animated conversations and laughing and joking with each other. After what seemed like an eternity she approached Adrian and I.

"I have your sunglasses" She said. And she pulled them out from her bag. 

"You're from the tour?" I asked.

"Yes, I am Marcia, the guide. We are waiting for another group of people before we go - they missed their flight. And then we will go on the boat. You are the only ones who speak English. I will be speaking in Spanish and French but then I will come over and tell you. Okay?"

With Adrian's sunglasses returned, and the lack of communication explained, I felt one hundred times better and could take in the surroundings. We were at one of those typical resorts you see in brochures - nothing like the Concrete Monstrosity™ and nothing like the rest of Cuban we had seen in our first two days. It also wasn't what I was expecting. In my head we were flying to some secluded nature reserve. But I shouldn't have been surprised. Cayo Largo is an island in the archipelago off the southern coast of Cuba. Essentially, it's a sand bar built up with luxury resorts all taking advantage of the miles of sandy beaches. No locals really live there, except for those who work on the resort. So Cayo Largo itself is more like Cayo Touristo.

30 minutes later when the other tourists eventually pulled up, I really questionned what we had signed up for. The new arrivals were mostly Russian and young. and already drunk. As Marcia and the other guide explained the daily itinerary in Russian, Spanish, French and finally English, I realized this wasn't a nature safari; it was a booze cruise. Oh well, when with Russians do as the Russians do - drink. Sure it was 9:30 but we'd already been up for 5 hours. On the boat the Russians immediately stripped down to their lamé bikinis and animal print speedos and started what would be an entire day of photographic exercises. The girls' poses were the sort that needed 1-900 phone number slapped across them. This was going to be a very interesting day.

Our first stop was Iguana Island - essentially a volcanic reef jotting out of the sea and home to a healthy population of iguanas. I thought the posing might stop here but obviously the Russians had connections with niche iguana fetish websites. The island looked like some sort of moonscape and my flipflops were no match for the jagged rocks. I walked as far as I could before turning back to the dock where 6 more boats were lined up with daytrippers. I followed the lead of the iguanas and chilled out, thankfully the Russians didn't pose for any photos with me. 

After 15 minutes we were herded back on the boat and headed to the swimming pool. It was an incredibly shallow part of the sea about 1 metre deep that stretched out for 1 kilometre. There was a sand bar in the middle of it. I didn't want to risk bringing my camera out to the photos but the Russians didn't share my concern and made the tough slog through the water to the sand bar for more poses. Adrian and I stayed close to the boat enjoying the warm shallow and crystal clear water. Once back on the boat, we tucked into fresh lobster while we motored to the next stop.  

When everyone was finished, the crew gathered up the empty lobster shells and began handing out snorkeling equipment. The boat stopped in the middle of a coral reef for us to explore. Neither Adrian nor I had been snorkeling before, and (what a surprise) the crew wasn't interested in teaching. So I thought I'd try to teach Adrian and myself how to do it. I started with the masks. I slipped mine over my nose face and floated face down in the water. Wow! The fish were unbelievable. The crew threw the lobster shells in the water and schools of colourful fish would swoop in for the snack. Unfortunately, Adrian couldn't get the hang of breathing through his mouth and was getting a bit freaked out. He took the mask off and just floated next to the boat where a Russian boy and his non-porn star parents were hanging out. 

I usually get freaked out swimming in the ocean and thinking about all the fish swimming beneath the surface but actually seeing them under the water didn't bother me at all. Even when the fish swarmed the lobster shells and it looked like a scene from Piraña: the Movie or The Toy, I still enjoyed it. Snorkeling is now a must do for me and maybe even scuba diving. But after an hour it was back on the boat.

We arrived at Playa Sirena where a buffet lunch and another open bar were waiting. The rest of the afternoon was to be spent on the beach doing nothing. Adrian and I quickly realised that the open bar was about 500 metres from the beach. We weighed our options - free booze versus beach sloth. Sloth won out so we claimed our quiet stretch of sand away from the russian calisthenics and decided to fork out the cash for beach bar service. We spent hours in the sun and sea, sipping mojitos and piña coladas until the sun got low on the horizon. 

We showered the salt off our skin and attempted to dry off in the sun (I hadn't packed towels or a change of clothes) while waiting back at the restaurant for the boat to pick us up. The Russians were already there, taking photos while wearing turtle shells and doing the splits. What ever picture you have in your head, is close but push it just a little bit further. A staff member came up to us and simply said "russians are crazy" before walking off shaking his head. 

Fortunately, our trip back wasn't crazy. And we arrived at The Concrete Monstrosity™ at 9pm tired, cold but relaxed and ready to start the non-tour portion of our time in Cuba.