Costa Rica Trip '08, Part VI

9 April

--On Population--

Something I had meant to write about but didn't was the fact that there are so many people at Sirena.  It's not very nice.  Oh, it would be, if they were all mature and/or considerate, but of course they aren't.  So we get woken up by Chatty Kathys and people banging around the tent platform, not to mention that the rest of the day is spent surrounded by loud people playing "Would You Rather."  The stay would've been significantly more enjoyable if, at a minimum, the number of people that were here could've been other than they were.  Of course, that's not possible - things always happen the way they're supposed to.  Was there a reason that these people were obnoxious, or was it just a clash of free wills - the simple fact that they can act as they wish and all I can do is resent them for it?  No; they're enjoying their trip in the way they want.  Just because my idea of a visit to the rainforest is different doesn't make mine right and theirs wrong.  And it's not as though they made my stay at Sirena unenjoyable... there were just a few points of contention.  All things considered, my complaints against them are pretty trivial. I mean, I'm in the RAINFOREST.  How much complaining am I actually allowed to do?

I find myself wishing them a pleasant journey.  And I feel better.  Isn't that nice? (0738, 9 April)

An Awful Lot Like Work / Costa Rica Trip '08, Part V

I started learning Tai Chi Chuan (or taijiquan, however you prefer it) on Monday.  Know how I know these guys are teaching it right?  Not only am I getting beat up in sparring sessions, but it is HARD.  If you see someone practicing their Tai Chi, chances are it's an older (and, let's face it, Chinese) person who's been doing it for a long time.  And you probably think to yourself, "Oh, that's very pretty.  Also, it looks very easy."  As someone learning it from the beginning let me assure you that it is not.  On the other hand, I have something good to wake me up and put me to bed every day.  Great Success!

In daily news, things are well here.  I'm making new friends and getting settled in nicely, I think.  Some concrete plans for the future would be nice, but hey, I'm not greedy.  I'm happy with the way things are going.

How are you, Reader?

8 April

--Day of Rest--

Started off today with a 0530 wakeup call from our tent neighbor.  Apparently he just loves talking to himself.  Ostensibly, he was speaking to his wife, but she didn't say a word.  Eventually I was able to force myself back to sleep.  Blech.

We sat on the deck for a long time in the morning and I started The Problem of Pain.  This one is much more challenging than The Great Divorce, and if nothing else, it reminds me that there is still much I need to learn.  I'm not sure that I agree with all of Lewis's postulations - especially concerning Genesis 1 - but again, I need to learn more about (for example) evolution before I can really decide for myself.  But as always, Lewis does a great job of putting words to the nebulous logic I already possessed - a talent I appreciate more every time I ready his works.

Today's wildlife: crabs, hermit crabs, a jellyfish that I (hopefully) rescued from certain death, a white faced monkey (chacupin? cachupin?  capuchin!), some scarlet maccaws (!), and magically submerging river logs (probably crocs).  Today was mostly about resting up for tomorrow, but we had some fun, too.

--Tidal Pools--

We went down to the beach after our morning relax-fest.  The tide was out - WAY out - and had left behind an alien landscape.  It was less like going to the beach than going to the moon.  Most of the pools were very shallow, but I did get to see a lot of little crabs and fish.  We walked all the way out to the surf and found a pool deeper than the others.  We floated around in that one for some time, apparently missing the landing of a plane.  We did get to see its departure, though.  I waved, but I'm not sure if they saw.  Oh well.  Jesse and I both got stung on the leg by something, whether jellyfish or anemone, I do not know.  It went away pretty quickly.

--Scouting the Trail--

We walked down to the beach again in the afternoon to check out the trail to La Leona.  That's where we finally got close to the maccaws.  Upon emerging onto the trail from the beach, we saw a veritable swarm of hermit crabs pretty far inland.  The ground was almost literally alive with them.  The river we have to cross tomorrow is very wide and, from what I'm told, a meter deep at low tide.  Also, there are crocs and sharks.  So that'll be quite the adventure.

Rain's here.  Time for sleep.  Another glorious day in paradise, Lord.  (2105, 8 April)

Costa Rica Trip '08, Part II

3-5 April (cont.)

I write now from the Autotransportes Blanco station.  We are on our way... or will be soon.  The taxi ride through San Jose reminded me that I wanted to write about the traffic here.

I am amazed that people here get around with - apparently - no accidents.  Through all the unbelievably dangerous driving we've experienced so far, we haven't seen a single accident.  Thinking of it now does make me shudder at the prospect of the bus ride.  Like our other automotive forays so far, I'm sure we'll arrive safely at our intended destination.  On the traffic itself, though: there seem to be no traffic laws to speak of.  There are no lanes, only a few lines, and not many more traffic lights.  Yet somehow, it all works.  It's like the "ordered chaos" you always hear people talking about.  That's also the phrase I use to describe my room, coincidentally.  So my room is as structured as San Jose traffic...?  Oddly appropriate.  (On a side note, we are apparently waiting for the bus directly opposite a woman scientist.  She looks like a scientist.)

So, ordered chaos.  I don't feel uncomfortable admitting there's a strange sort of beauty in seeing such a mess work so perfectly.  Maybe it's the ever-emerging engineer in me.  Somehow the idea of being able to fit anywhere from one to four lanes of cars in the same space makes me smirk and giggle to myself.  Maybe it's part mild culture shock and part novelty. I don't feel culture shocked, though.

[...]

And now we are well and properly on our way.  We've been on the bus for nearly four hours and, with the exception of the city we just stopped in, the landscape has grown progressvely wilder.  I snapped a few pictures, but I'm afraid they won't come out.

More later - bumps making writing tough. (1550, 5 April)

--On the Bus / Nightfall--

More erratic writing - still on the bus.  The bus is interesting.  It's quite a bit nicer than expected, since we expected an old American school bus.  But no, we have fairly comfortable seats and, although the engine is loud and the windows rattle, it's not a bad ride.  When someone wants to pass the bus, [the bus driver] checks the oncoming traffic and waves them on it's safe.  The acknowledge eachother with a honk - ours is a great goose-sounding honk, more than loud enough to stir me from any napping.  We stop for everyone.  Some of them are vendors with food, some are people just getting a leg up on the trip home.

Jesse said it best earlier: "It gets prettier every time I open my eyes."  As profound as it sounds, he was actually talking about waking from a nap.  But either way, it's absolutely true. The scenery here takes my breath away.  The stars ay be the only greater testament to the power, flory, and aesthetic taste of God.  (1756, 5 April)

--At the Lodge--

Finally free from that rickety bus ride!  The last hour or so was more stressful than the rest since we had no clue how far we were from anything.  The original plan was to spend tonight in Puerto Jimenez, but that would have required a long and expensive cab ride back to the trailhead in La Palma.  So instead, we disembarked in La Palma, resolved to walk the 1.8-ish miles to the lodge if necessary.  Thank God we were met at the stop by a taxi driver!  The ride itself was taken in the back of his pickup, allowing us to see clearly the numerous times we would have risked mugging by walking.  It seems at every turn that the Lord is protecting us on this journey.  I look forward to witnessing the splendor of His creation in the days to come.

But for now, I'm relaxing after a long day of travel.  The lodge we're in tonight is made totally from wood, and what's more, wood from trees that were already and naturally felled only.  Not a single tree was cut down to build this place.  And it's magnificent!  Already, since our arrival, we've seen lizards hunting and playing, heard monkeys in the nearby woods and seen a bug literally as big as my head, although Jesse thinks (and I now agree) that it's probably a bat.  There's so much life here!  Even just sitting here in what I'll call, for want of a better word, the living room.  The constant chirruping of the crickets is punctuated now and again by the croaking of frogs the likes of which I've never heard.  Now if only we could do something about that awful music from the fiesta...  (2100, 5 April)

PS - It's definitely a bat.  We just got buzzed.

Jiggity-Jig!

I am home again, but I'm afraid I've bought no pigs or hogs.  The trip.  Was.  AMAZING.  Never have I felt so constantly and completely connected with and integral to Creation.  I know that may require a second glance.  Sorry 'bout that.  The rainforest was everything you ever learned in school.  Compared with my expectations, we were practically accosted by monkeys.  We saw an anteater, a sloth, a pizote, a saino (no, I didn't know what those were before the trip), toucans, macaws, parrots, parakeets, and ants that build their own roads.  I was floored, and delighted to be there.  The flora were vibrant; everywhere were vines, moss and flowers covering the already-vital trees.  It rained every day for at least a few hours, usually in the afternoon.  We were constantly surrounded by the sounds and smells of life.  It was... awesome, in the truest sense of the word.

I also kept a pen-and-paper journal of my trip, from which I will be copying in part for your viewing pleasure!  I can almost guarantee you won't get the full version here.  C'est la vie.

Costa Rica Trip '08

3-5 April

Unfortunately, I left the notebook I meant to use at home. Not a big deal, but it does translate to a lag between thinking and recording.  Today, Jesse and I are headed to the deep south of the country, to a town called Puerto Jimenez.  It's supposedly between 8-10 hours, so we'll see how that pans out.  We worry quite a bit about item placement, vis-a-vis mugging.  Jesse instructed me in the ways of the dummy wallet.  Clever yet simple, and something I hadn't even thought of.  Even after living in New York for four years, I don't do well with defensive thinking.  I started The Great Divorce on the plane and finished it this morning.  Not good, since the only other book I brought is The Problem of Pain, which is no thicker.  Anyway, observations:

--San Jose--

At once a lovely and ugly place.  It also depends on where you are in the city.  There are little parks everywhere, and one big one on the western edge of the city (also where the US Embassy is).  There is no shortage of plant life, with varying amounts of visible vitality, but there is also no shortage of poverty and its entourage.  I had a young boy hit his knees begging me for money yesterday, right in the middle of the sidewalk.  Even in New York, I never saw someone really beg like that.  I didn't give him anything, a fact which still bothers me now.  I know we're called to charity, but so many beggars are either liars or will simply use their "earnings" for booze.  It also seems to me an all-or-nothing philosophy - either give money to every beggar or to none.  Otherwise, on what criteria does one base their judgment?  Essentially, it's like saying you can tell who's lying and who isn't, and that your decision of who is deserving is the right one.  Still, perhaps erring on the side of charity is better.

More later. (1007, 5 April)

"You asked for a loving God: you have one.  The great spirit you so lightly invoked, the 'lord of terrible aspect,' is present: not a senile benevolence that drowsily wishes you to be happy in your own way, not the cold philanthropy of a conscientious magistrate, nor the care of a host who feels responsible for the comfort of his guests, but the consuming fire Himself, the Love that made the worlds, persistent as the artist's love for his work and despotic as a man's love for his dog, provident and venerable as a father's love for a child, jealous, inexorable, exacting as love between the sexes... it passes reason to explain why any creatures... should have a value so prodigious in their Creator's eyes."

--CS Lewis, The Problem of Pain