Adios Costa Rica

Nicaragua tomorrow! Costa Rica is done. I spent the last four days In Monetverde - zip lines, tarzan swings, and tree top tours. I´ve processed coffee and made candy from sugar cane. I stopped eating bugs and started playing tourist. I´ve seen live volcanoes, butterflies and the elusive quetzal. (Central America´s answer to Africa´s Big 5.) I´ve jumped off a 30 foot platform into nothing and rode a horse to a waterfall where some friends got engaged. The weather is soggy and the views spectacular.

Tommorow it´s up at 3am to catch a bus to the San Juan del Sur - one of the top five beaches in Central America. It´ll be good to dry my shoes.... and get a tan. Beachside hammocks and not a mosquito for miles. Did I tell you had 22 bites on a credit card sized patch of skin?

The next section will be pretty hectic. I have to be in Honduras by Friday. Not just Honduras, but the Honduras-Guatemala border, Copan to be exact. If not I miss appointments in Guatemala, appointments for my honeyteers. So it´s probably one night each in San Juan, Granada and Leon.... I´m determined to skirt around Managua, the capitol. It´ll cost me extra time, but I´ve heard bad things. Robberies in the bus station and petty crime, nothing we don´t have at home, but why take a risk?

So it´s hot sun in San Juan, Nicaraguan´s top vacation town, then colonial retreats in Grenada and Leon. Grenada more touristy and on the lake, Leon smaller and more laid back.

It´s all fun stuff, but I still like the visiting the non-profits best. Getting there is half the fun, especially when the secretary tells me they´re located in a city that´s actually three hours away. It´s not that she´s lying,they really are only 40kms from the city, but the bus system is such that it takes three hours. Remember the collectivo? That´s now the norm, just the cattle truck has been replaces by former US school buses that can´t get above 10kms a hour of the dirt track roads. At first I was unaware. It was like showing up in Manhattan thinking you´re going to visit a place in the Bronx. Suddenly an hour has passed and your in White Plains. You ask the driver how much farther and realize you´ll be in Albany by the time your done. I´m talking time-wise of course, but no one tells you that up front. Leaving in the morning you ask which bus to take. Culture seems to dictate the person answers by informing you of the first leg only and leaving you to be surprised when you get off at the at the designated stop and learn you have another bus to go... and then another. Lucky for me I´ve been waking up at 6am have all day to get there.

And when I get there the people (all Ticos) are the most gracious hosts. They offer me a bed for the night, food and introductions to their family and friends. I get caught in the rain and a shop keeper runs out with a plastic bag to keep my head dry. I get caught without transport and a friend of my host is there with a car. Even the spider monkey at the animal rehad welcomed me with a hand shake and sat holding my hand while the director told me her tale. It´s the difference between tourism and travel, guest and tourist, Liberty Travel and Woven Journeys.