Willet Hot Springs Christmas

Thought I was headed to Sespe Hot Springs, however my out of practice body was aching enough, so Willet was quite a delight!
...realized I'm good for about 5 miles/day. More than that and too much is missed.
...so on day hikes, go for 2.5 miles one way.
...don't forget the bugspray
...only one piece of footwear, Keens only? Perhaps?

Some dirt...

...on Costa Rica reality!

fuel/gallon--$4.30/gallon

fourtrax mpg--52/mpg

fresh Ocean fish/pound--$1.50 to 3.00/pound

property taxes--$60/year for 1600 sq. ft.
cell phone--$10/month unlimited
bus to Santa Cruz--$2.86

electricity--$8/month

housecleaner--$2/hour
common labor--$2-4/hour

cigarettes--500colones/97cents/pack.

Been told...

... 7,000 insects call Costa Rica home. when the rain began mid-may, i counted 5,800. just kidding, but wow, the peaceful evening veranda--read, drink and sits are gone.

Most of Life is making decisions, pizza vs tacos and give up to get. ya know the small decisions.

crazy thing is, i would most likely not be doing any of this if i had not fallen in love? thank you and fucking aye trip over themselves in the same breath!!!!

Divided country also is interesting--you are either Costa Rican or not! even if you say you live here and have for 20 years, you are just a visitor. "and by the way do you have any work for me?", cause you are not one of us, so you must be rich. what did all these people do before "us visitors" came down here? went fishin and ate Iguana, i reckon.

Cheap living and weather---are the answers i get from ex-pats down here. that is why they moved here. escaping US policy is the third most common answer. temps barely fall below 80 and cheap...alot is cheap, comparatively. but gringo pricing keeps going up. the most absurd thing for me is, being able to get hired help for $2-3/hour! 1600 sqft house w/ 3 baths scrubbed complete for 5,000 colones/$10.

"give up to get", is so interesting. folk pack up and move down here w/ long term mind-sets and wow, they are now held hostage by the real estate they own. talking w/ an old timer one day---"Yep, I have never been robbed in 50 years. And I have never left my house, not even once, without a warm body inside."

Had a great silent conversation w/ this Ancient critter today.

Jesus christ, can u seeum? no i can't seeum! where are they? i don't know, i think they're called Noseeums! all i know is i hateeum!

Emotional...

...gammet run near daily? What the heck for? This place is a love-hate setting.

Rain, Thunder and Lightning Gods are the most intense ever experienced. Pacific Ridley Turtles must be in sensory overload while crawling up to their nest site. digging her home sweet home with Ostional's thunderous waves crashing behind her, water troughs of rain cleanse her shell, heat lightning along w/ heaven to hell piercing bolts and richter scale thunder shuttering above. exhausted when finished and having camoflauged her nest w/ long sweeping paddle strokes. triumphant she is in her success. they must notice, right? all the energy around them!

Up in me casa i have never experienced such a location. the absolute feeling, which either begins thru my eyes or possibly my ears, is of such pure delight on this little 1,336 square meter plot of land.

no light pollution seen. near zero noise pollution, nor air.

colours from magenta pink to flouresent green to pearlesent blues and greens nearly peel ones cornea from its own retna. mornings dew and evenings rain droplets lay upon leaves larger than my skull and dangle like free form rock climbers, simply hanging on by the very tips of their outermost molecules.

salt and fresh water echos for all hourz of the day, rise up to entrance you in a silken web concerto.

Divine elegance relentlessly shimmers off yellows, reds and greens as the days virgin rays reach out with a sensuous kiss.

pure and raw rapture of Nature.

so raw, that if one ventures off the human manicured facets...death and beauty dangles, hops, crawls, slithers and flys every where. which to some, including me, manifests some kind of all encompassing fine line of imprisonment. i reckon yer ither a jungle cat or yer not.

A pair of shorts and flip-flops, relax, work a touch and drink yummy stuff.
way too boring for most folk, most are used to all their distractions/commitments/entertainments in Life.

But mainly they are just used to working to pay for all the distractions/commitments/entertainments versus just enjoying...

Lunch iz on me...

...ventured to the "under new ownership" soda in Ostional to a delightful surprise. An empinada w/ chicken and rice and two frescas for 1000 colones/$1.80. Pretty cheap lunch out.

Ya know when your alarm is set for 4:35 a.m. and the nites sleep was fitful, so the alarm never chimes due to your fumbling, going by braile fingers flipping the tab to "alarm off". Well this was one of those morns.
We gotta catch the early bus to Santa Cruz because Banco National opens at 8:30 and her line of 20-40 money hungry customers forms quickly. Now is the early bus five o'clock or half past? We do not remember so let's try quarter past five. Eyes dreary, I grab my wind up flashlite which was gifted to Marina and I. Given for Christmas, you know the baby in the manger story or is it the baby with the most toys story? Me forgot! Well Dad and Laura took a stab for their pain-in-the-ass-to-buy-for son and hit a homerun with this one. No batteries in over 2 years and now lighting my way to a wake you up outdoor shower. Double check for no Scorpions or Snakes atop the rustic Spanish style tile work. One and a half turns and out comes lovely fairly warm water piped through the hand carved Boars head. Shuttering a bit as I gaze North upon the Big Dipper, shutter turns to refreshment as a distant Howler Monkey sounds off, letting me know dawn is arriving.
A quick shave and "It's seven past five", Marina says as I push our Honda quad out the french doors. How reminiscent, not since 1989 have I had my means of transportation parked inside my house. My 1972 Harley Sportster used to love being inside, after all the shop was full of customers cars to paint; 1953 MG Coupe just waiting to be cloaked of English Red, 1965 Thunderbird still draped with fender skirts and the lovely 1934 Packard 4-door Sedan full of mohair, mold and dust poised for six, seven maybe eight weeks of my hands to caress every inch of her sheet metal, then finally showered in 4 coats of Dusty Yellow.
"Ok, ok I need to water", the little plants get a drink and we are off at 5:17.
I heard the clamour but did not see it. The heel end of Marina's flip flop got caught on the gate which recently was installed at the foot of our road. Blam! Down she goes. Classic clumsy Marina story. Maybe six to eight minutes roll by and a moto comes thru the dry wash. Now it is still dark so sillouhett and shadow makeup ones vision as the moto brakes to a stop before us. "Bus left at 5:00", the Tico's says with his backpack strapped to his chest, engine idling and headlite splashing forward. We look to each other and say no way, I thought it was 5:30. Moto man says "Cinco", basically reiterating his stance and follows with, "My friend go to Santa Cruz this morning. You want a ride?". Marina quickly responds, "No, manana" and without hesitation his shadow speeds away. Let the second guessing game begin! Waiting for a bit and then, "I hate to say I told you so, but we should have left when I said at 5:07." Marina says. If someone "hates to say it", then why do they say it? What is the point? Then some wisdom comes out of her, "Well let's give it til 5:45", ya that sounds good. We pace around as dawns light bursts overhead and waves crash around the bend. Cecadus, Monkey, Parakete and all of mornings chorus fills the jungle. "Well, it looks like we missed the bus", she says. Me not wearing a watch figure our waiting period is up and head back thru the gate safely to start back home. About 150 yards into our walk a seemingly familar but questionable sound rumbles in our drums. Looks are exchanged and I take off in a sprint, well as fast as I can in flip flops. About 50 yards into my run the sound begins to disappear up the Coast road, I duck down to peer beneath the Quadrado leaves only to see the orange and white Mercedes disappear. "Son of a bitch it's the bus!"
We had alot to say on our five minute, up hill walk back home. Once inside, our dictionary reveals "Legarse"=Fuck off and "Mentiroso=Liar...crazy morning. I figured there must be a reason we weren't supposed to be on the bus today? Maybe it crashed? Later I mentioned, "Wow, this is one of those things about these Ticos that makes me wonder what in the hell we are doing here?" Basically the shadow on the moto lied to us about the bus already leaving so he and his buddy could make some money by driving us to Santa Cruz. Marina quickly and correctly reminds me, "...it doesn't matter where you are, if you are the tourist, you're the target". New York, London, L.A., Ostional hell even powdunkville. Who do you listen to and when--?-- is for the ole weary traveler to decide.

Prickly Patch

Kinda sad, maybe gross? Yet sureal! Never seen a dead Porcupine on a beach before.

Good trade...

...would you trade these for these? Hell ya!
Ten minutes from us, lay an incredible Mango Forest which is passed on our way to Nosara. Finally I made us stop and talk to "the guys" workin there, ya see prime Mango season is April, more than a month away. However, as with any other crop, nothing ripens on the same day and when shipping overseas, one picks early anyhow. So w/ me and my next to zilch Spanish, I figure out it is ok to drive thru the trees and back to something. I tell Marina back at the quad and she begins to assume there is a house back there. I did not hear anything about a "casa"? Heading along this deeply rutted, decades old tractor track with long beautiful diffused canopy light and Mangos dangling about. We go and go, then Marina hears a whistle. "Se vende Mangos?", I say to the three guys resting in true farm fashion--on a tractor fender, in the grass and on the trailer-- with crates of plucked Mango scattered about. In the end we have 7 yummy looking softball sized fruits, which, he says should be ripe in 3-4 days and he would like "trece coca-cola" of "grande" size and he would like them today, "esta tarde". We head home, unload and eat lunch, then back w/ three 1.5 litre cokes which cost 3,000 colones(less than $6). Track em down again and they are smiley. Seems even a bit surprised, maybe he meant--one 3 litre coke? Now they have 4.5 litres worth. Regardless he comes over with four more Mangos and we exchange greetings and handshakes from a man that Marina's partial Spanish can barely understand. Feeling like happy little kids, a guy at the wagon says "oy" and motions us to stop. Brings over a crate and fills our rear quad crate(38 Mangos). Everyone is smiling in "grande" fashion now. "Pura Vida, Buenas, Muchas Gracias" and more handshakes.
We are feeling perhaps like a Sandollar sized baby Turtle that made it to Sea, might feel?
Our crate full, his empty and all hearts brimming. Now if I just had that solar oven, so I could bake "the guys", Mango muffins!!!! Mango muffins w/ Coke?

Newly...

...witnessed "child soccer practice". Kid maybe 9 years old on opposite side of road as us and our quad. We cruise by at 38 kmph, the boys sets up, looks, checks the pace, looks and fires---SCORE!!!!!!! He wins the game. He nailed our left rear tire, I gave him a big thumbs up and he truly is his own hero.

Breaching...

...cow and calf Humpback Whales from our veranda view. Just one pair cruisin along!
This days chores...
...harvesting Quadrados. Buying fish and collecting river bottom soil for gardening. All three completed by noon or one and then the fun came along. Due to our lack of oven (rotten theives), I have been yearning for a solar oven. So one was crafted quickly and Pargo Rojo (red snapper) its first experiment. By 2 p.m. she was set in the sun and my remote thermo unit showed 109.9 F. and topped out at 139.8, well we were both concerned this temp was not enough to cook fish. I was contemplating the thermo not "fluctuating" at all, kinda like it lost its connection w/ home base, but there was no time for contemplation w/ Marina around, she was strought over ruining this great fish. Not me, Mr Pargo Rojo weighing in at 2 kilos (4 pounds) could have rotted in there and in the end I would have known if me little oven was worthy.
I gave in to this "looming down on me differing outlook". Rojo went inside and more questions had to be answered--What do we cook in now?, Why aren't you cooking over the fire as originally planned? Why are you so worked up?--Which led to my hands being swished aside and me saying to hell with it, retreating downstairs to a safer environment. Putting a fresh edge on my pocket knife became meditative and silence fell upon the house.
The remote thermo flatlined, just as suspected, connection had been lost. So who knows about the temp? While sitting in my "drift" chair under the rancho a clothespin was tossed down from the veranda, by my Lover. Oh, the signs of Love and lets make up!
We decided that next time, only one person will be in charge of cooking fish and soon after we enjoyed yummy fish tacos of perfectly prepared texture. Thank you Marina-------you little fighter! Sometimes I just want to.........you!

Continuo...

...he said while handing my drivers license and passport copy back to me. This police officer waived us over at his choice spot of the day. Letting us know not wearing helmets carried a 5,000 colones fine per person, about $20. Yet on his way back from his little navy blue SUV with ticket book now in hand, he waived over another couple and I'll be damned--they were "white" also. Go figure! Riding a rental quad they were and being far more frazzled than ourselves, plus not having copies of their passports, he looked at us and handed my documents back and said, "continuo". We did not wait for an explanation. So we continuoed! This place is pretty entertaining and patience is a virtue here as well! Glad I found some back in 2001...Marina is still curious as to why he let us go w/o a ticket?

Two glass plates...

...returned to Flor this evening and while hanging out, laughing at Steven watch some ridiculous tv program Flor gave us a cold fresca consisting of artificial everything, cold was the only thing it had going for us. The thought was nice. After awhile Steven comes over with a bowl of multi-coloured snacks, which turns out to be miniature marshmallows. We each ate "one"! Do the kids learn such eating habits from friends or family? Nasty nasty stuff.
Then Flors' Mama came over with a little sandy white looking ping pong ball thing. Asking if we have ever tried. Marina's expressions went crazy and slurred words lapped off her tongue, due to her knowing what was held before her. A Pacific Ridley Turtle Egg. I kicked Marina's shin below the bar to snap her out of the surprise frenzy written across her person and we said we had never tried. Then you can imagine, 15 minutes later over comes a bowl w/ two eggs inside, quarter of a lime and a touch of salt. Neither knew what to do and lots of animation was exchanged, in the end neither wanted to try this apparent delight. Mama does not like them, but Steven loves em, so the bowl was slid his way, he took the soft shelled egg and torn it in two as you would peel a thick mil of paint from your wall. Slightly elastic yet weak under pressure. Inside were nearly raw eggs, we definitely did not want any then. Smiley Steven tore the other one, bashfully eating them little by little as everyone looked on, kinda in a happy disgusted way. During his indulgence this bag was placed before us, 40-60 eggs I reckon.

WOW, so here it is February four months after the huge arribada of egg laying, where literally the beach below us is so thick with turtles you need to walk turtle to turtle to turtle during its peak. So the locals are still digging eggs, still eating and still not understanding.

Just like everything else of mans desire/disposal, they will disappear one day, as well!

Friendly El Salvadorans

We did some shopping for Flor our 19 year old neighbor from El Salvador due to there being no public transportation from Ostional to Nosara, which holds our closest supermercado and the the word "super" in that title is very mis-leading w/ an americano mindset. Flor's little brother Steven is a cute little six year old who skips around like a hopping Crow. Pretty amazing seeing how with only three years to his merit he was run over by a bus and both his legs were broken. Sportin' titanium at such a young age!
Upon returning w/ Flor's list all checked off, she tried to pay us for our trip, we declined, naturally. We did ask if they would show us how to make homemade tortillas and had a lesson at 6pm. Lard being a key ingredient was expected, but not so. Mis-nomer on our part, they just added water. Flor's torts were perfectly round and uniform in thickness, mine were a little less and thicker and Marina's, well they...let's say she needed more practice! Pretty tasty, yet kinda bland. We asked if they ever added spices but "no" was the answer. A little salt, cumin and ? would do alot.

Following day we were reading up on the veranda and we heard Steven skipping along and soon "Hoy!"(Steven's favaourite salute) and "Hola, buenos tardes!" from Flor, so we slip some clothes on and open the door to smiling faces and a plate perched atop Flor's high slung palm, all she was lacking was a black and white uniform. Stacked three inches tall and individually wrapped in paper towels w/ a small side bag of "salsa", she said, but not picante like we would think, just a tomato sauce. This offering was the result of a "Papusa" conversation during our tortilla lesson and due to my lack of never having a papusa. They whipped some up, were dropped off w/ smiles and an great lesson of giving for Steven, then wandered back up the hill. We went up to the kitchen counter like two little kids that just raided the cookie jar and knew they were not going to get in trouble once all was devoured. I unwrapped and Marina poured the sauce into a cup, thence our savoury delight began. Shredded pork, diced green chilis and a trace of cheese all rippled amongst the yummy tortilla recipe we learned the day prior. Not too greasy, but it could be seen and you knew daily consumption of such greatness creates large bellies over sixty years. They brought four and I ate two and a half, Marina quit due to the richness of it all, I just wanted more!

More excitement...

...just not to us, this time. Our closest true neighbors up the hill--Diana and her son, her mother Isabet and her husband(can't remember). Well 5 days ago "husband" decided to take Casinova, the dog for a walk, along the road, past their place and crossed paths with a Brahma Bull, the bull began scratching at the ground and proceeded to charge. One of the horns nearly pierced his left rib/waist area while completely sending him airborne, in rodeo fashion, off the side of the road and down the hill side. Poor guy is laid up and bruised head to toe-- eating, reading, watching tv and sniffling for more food and drink.

Natures bounty...

...some of it brings me shivers!

yeap, those are all little babies!
Little baby Scorpions!

Upon Arrival

Been a week now, as me hammock sway, breeze blow and Monkey howl. Hot one this day, 94 en casa!
First example of crazy ways--on the way to our house one will pass a well pump house, thence a small house just past ours, then a larger one and finally up to Ranco Brovilla. Which is a fading away hotel/restaurant/rental house. By fading i mean the pool, empty and dry, pinto de gallo is breakfast and steak is supper. That's it! Well a santa claus lookin Hungarian has owned this stretch of land since, this now regraded Forest Service type road wuz an old rutted Ox wagon trail and no one wondered if Pacific Ridley Sea Turtle for breakfast, for all Costa Rica families, would affect Turtle population, long term? This mans name is Szabo and even after all his years here, no mercy is shown. A well pump is a well pump and two have been stolen in the past year. Ballsy huh! We have gladly paid $30/month for water, not anymore. Szabo wants $60/month. Talk about over a barrel w/o any lube. "What a bastard!", was my reaction and Marina says, "What are we gunna do dig a well?" So we chew on that topic for abit, then, Marina says, "Angie (Szabo's wife) said Szabo has stomach cancer." Well damn. That will knock a guy back a bit. So then me thoughts changed to "Oh, that poor bastard!" In some strange way you actually want to pay he and Angie $60/month.?
Besides that--a Honda 250 ATV is our only transport, pineapples are still my favourite, smoothies for breakfast, frisbee on the beach, Marina sleeps 10-12 hours daily and a wave at high tide turned some dull S.I. joint pain into, excrutiating, "Holy fuck i need to kneel down right fucking now!!!", pain. Wow! That was not the way to begin February, but it is what it is. For months this adventure held anticipation of feeding our bodies better and healing mine to a better position. That wave was similar to a dragon picking "the slayer" up w/ his tail and thwaping him down as a play toy. Well that's enough wincing.
Fried plantains, yummy-yummy-yummy
Member...waves and cancer will change ones course. Make yours "true", prior the change!

Scorpions glowing in the dark? i read it and saw photos online, but this is the real deal. taken by me via a small UV flashlite and a camera off course!
Watch out it's Sunday, the beach should get crowded at any moment. ya right!

Chalk Farm...

...and lost, if i were.
Wood i be here?
Bus after car, stroller prior woman. Breath drawn and spat out. Not in relief, but sum form of grief.
Arse now upon grass, all still pass. Soon girls to be met, who knows where we jet?
Since i am here, me must be lost

Can't compare...

...but i do.

English countryside is so lush and manicured, giving way to stiles and trails for one to ramble across her entirety. Something provocative in this offering, yet the wild ness of Montana's grandeur sets one to a different awe.

Foods in the states is crap by all comparisons. Marina has always expressed her knowing, however my un-knowing could not comprehend. Clear in taste and memory now---pheasant, duck, rabbit, venison, lamb, pig, quail etc. are offered for lunch and dinner w/ all the trimmings. States offer a burger and fries or perhaps chicken nachos. Woo Hoo!!!

Buildings again miss the mark. Sure there are a handful, mainly churches. However for centuries homes have been built to with stand centuries, not to say the country side did not pay a toll for this consumption of man. Hell it paid over here also, but we just built shacks w/ Natures givings, something to get by, something that continues to consume until it collapses.

Home now...

...and all is good. fresh blanket of snow this morn and logs on the fire. Shayla has even come in and laid on our laps a couple times! Guess she doesn't hate us completely.

no waterfalls, but beaches free of folk, trails and dusty roads were good. some private and sureal w/ only critters trackin 'em up and sum w/ folk that look you up and down, wunderin how much money you had on ya. one even offering freshly stolen turtle eggs and "ganga" for sale.

i got an Avacado and Mango pit to sprout while there, so i gently put them down, along w/ Pineapple tops. time will tell? gonna plant Papaya, Cashew, Plantain and more Lime next time.

helped 4 Pacific Ridley Turtles back out to their waters after their arduous journey.

3 Pineapples weekly(for me alone), an Avacado daily, fresh Ocean Pargo, Pineapple wine, Watermelon, Passion fruit, Mango, Papaya, Plantain, Banana, Coconut, Star fruit----yum.

never did have an automobile. the closest food source was 45 minutes away by foot to San Juanillo or 45 by bike to Nosara. Marina wants a motorbike next time. i tend to agree. most likely be a quad.

killed 3 Scorpions in the house and waged war on some Ants that bit me while standing under the Rancho by the outdoor shower. 6 pans of boiling water later, over 3 days and the survivors decided to change "home" location.

Jesus Lizards and a Snake of some sort along a river bank beneath Coco and Naner trees scurried round.

experienced Winds for near 4 days and nites. locals of 16-20 years had never seen. one morning i was surveying the damage of the sleepless nite prior and a huge gust blew by and the Earth under my feet heaved. this poor old Guanacaste tree was being tested. thankfully she did not go over. when in full bloom, Howler Monkeys feed on ivory white flowers. intoxicating those who observe from veranda looking out to the Pacific.

Armadillo millin round and a couple fresh shells flung aside after locals cooked 'em up fer supper, nite prior. looked at them and wondered if they could be brain tanned and crafted into a bag or ??? who knows, they are acordian like, each segment moving to and fro.

crafted me an Adirondack style chair from drift wood found along beach, w/o any power tools. i coined it the "DRIFT" chair---when ya sit and look to Ocean, ya drift away and maybe a drifter passin thru one day will have a sit. hell...it may be U?

made Coconut bowls and just soaked up this little area called Ostional where locals are content to earn 1000 colones ($2) per hour for incredibly labor intensive jobs. why? because no one will pay any more. imagine any piece of fence line along any stretch of road you drive, now plant a father and son wacking at weeds and grass 3-4 foot tall with Machetes to clear it. this place is poor, not like Africa pot belly poor, but poor. they do not pay 850 colones ($1.55) for an entire Pineapple, not a chance. this will buy pounds of Beans and Rice. proud tho, not beggin! they do what they need to do and push through the rest.

some of the little bastards steal though, i could not believe it but two or three or four of them had the balls to steal the well pump from a local well house one windy evening!!! and metal bars are now on our house due to stealing from us. it is pretty easy to tell a gringos house---it is the one with windows.

like America right? good food, Ocean, critters, smiley folk and robbers. yeap, those are similar. but the Western Civilization way of Life...not being present is the true beauty. once a person or if a person can relax to the point of a Native Tico, that is when this kind of vacation begins and with some sense of addiction it haunts ya for more. more time with Ostional Thunder or in a Peridot Trance.

all in all.........it was delicious