When it rains, it pours (in the rainforest)

Seeing I received an online reprimand from the Mom for not updating the previous pictures with associated explanations, I will go ahead and do so now. Friday morning we (the ISEP group) met at the university at 7 a.m. sharp in order to take a van to Sarapiqui (northern Costa Rica). Our program director, Ivelina, had lectured us the previous day on the importance of being punctual - which ironically is a trait that the majority of Costa Rican ticos don't have - because the trip to Sarapiqui would be long and slow, etc etc. So we're all there, hiking boots in hand, when Ivelina herself shows up at 7:15. So much for punctual. We load up in the Tourismo van and start driving, and after no more than 10 minutes en route we promptly pull over on a side street and Ivelina says that because of all the flooding that our destination has had recently, she should probably call the officials in the area and see if it's safe to actually pass into the community so that we aren't turned down because of safety issues when we arrive. Good idea. Despite attempts to eavesdrop on her rapid conversation in Spanish with an official, we were unable to decipher what Ivelina's talk covered. It didn't take long after the bus started moving again that we realized we were headed back to the University that we left from. Great, we're thinking, all this and now we're flooded out of our trip. But when we get back to the school, Ivelina tells us that while we were stopped and she was making that last-minute phone call (that probably should have been made before we all piled into the van the first time), it suddenly occurred to her that our Tourismo van was strongly lacking in the seat belts and - get this - curtains areas, and so she decided to call the company and have them bring us a "better" van. Cue another 1/2 hour or so of waiting, and we reloaded onto a nicely curtained bus that would shield us from the harsh heat of the sun (did I mention it was pouring out and that the chance of sunshine that day was maybe 2%?). Anyway, we're on the bus, we have our seat belts, we have our curtains, we're ready to go. The drive was actually really pretty once we got into the mountains, with waterfalls cascading down the rocks mere meters from the roads. We were delayed a little bit by a landslide that covered a bit of the road, but once we passed it it was a smooth drive into a much more scenic part of the country. We arrived at a beautiful lodge, La Selva Verde, whose housing is located amidst the forest and accessible by beautiful covered boardwalks throughout the grounds (due to the area's frequent flooding, everything was high off the ground). After dropping off our things we headed onto the self-guided trails to explore. Within the first 5 minutes I saw my first green and black poison dart frog, which obviously made my day. We weren't deep into the forest so there wasn't that stereotypical abundance of wildlife that one imagines when the word "tropical rainforest" is presented, but it was still amazing to walk through - I felt like I was on location in Jurassic Park. We promptly heard the equivalent of barking dogs (think more big guard dog sounds instead of little yipping ones), and realized that these dogs in the trees were really howler monkeys. We followed the sounds until we could see them, way high up (I really wished I had binoculars at this point). Following the monkey sounds led us to following the sound of rushing water, and we came upon the decently wide river, flowing a clayish brown color because of all the swelling it had undergone in the recent days. Because of this rapid erosion at the river's edges, the lodge workers had told us repeatedly not to walk along the trail that parallels the river. So of course, we walked along the trail that parallels the river. And turned over no less than 2 dozen logs, rocks, whatever we could find, in search of wild things. I can't say we had a viper jump out of us, but we did find lots of poison dart frogs (see the pictures I took in the previous post) and lizards (who evaded my camera since they travel at the speed of light) and funky insects. I mustered up enough courage to stick my hand down a couple of large suspicious holes in the ground and snap a picture of whatever is inside, but all the flash found were several decently creepy-looking spiders that made me glad I didn't put my hand in much further. We also discovered (with the help of some long sticks) that the 3-square-feet of brown clumps on the trees were much more that brown clumps, they were enormous termite nests that housed the litter buggers who were not very fond of us poking around their walls. Later that day, we went into San Miguel, a smaller town directly next to where the lethal earthquake hit Costa Rica on January 8th. We stopped at what appeared to be an indoor gymnasium of a local school, but it had been turned into a warehouse of simple commodities and staple foods for the displaced families and victims of the quake who had not yet left the area (the majority of the associated communities fled the area after their houses crumbled and began to flood in the next few weeks afterward). To look into the makeshift warehouse, one would think its contents, many sopping wet and strewed about the floor in a chaotic fashion, were victims of the quake as well. So we spent the majority of the afternoon sorting though all the supplies, boxing and piling them according to the expiration dates on the perishable foods, etc. We were told later on that we would drive into the center of the quake and "see" the families who were going to be receiving the supplies, now living in the school classrooms since they had lost everything else. Now, this was very awkward indeed. The mood in the van as we drove further and further into the flooded, desolate area was very tense. Nobody wanted to go to the schools and "see" the families who had lost everything; all they have left at the moment is their privacy, and for a group of American college students to drive up in a tourismo van with their cameras flashing, I'm sure that the families' one ounce of security in their privacy would be stripped and leave them with nothing but disdain for the vulgarity of human curiosity. As we came closer to the school, our director spoke to us through the van's intercom, pointing out dilapidated homes soaked with water the way a duck tour driver points out the swans swimming around in Boston. I couldn't help but feel sad for our culture's obsession with publicizing despair (think about how many suicides, homicides, car accidents and natural disasters appear on every morning news station). We pulled up alongside the fence that encircled the school and the van idled in the rain as Ivelina directed our attention to the one-floor building and the people of various ages sitting in lawn chairs outside beneath the school's overhanging roof. Their faces were blank as they stared at the van through the slanted sheets of rain, and then at us behind its vast curtained windows. I'm not sure what our director was thinking by this "trip" but I strongly feel that its impact on us was one of embarrassment for ourselves and what we represent. So often do journalists and photographers encroach on personal, sensitive issues for the power of publicity and propaganda. So often do tourists spend thousands of dollars on exclusive tours that take them "inside" a culture (usually one of less affluence) so that they can snap the indigenous people's lives away and return to their home country with a proud display of evidence that states, "I was THERE". Unfortunately, I unwillingly became one of those tourists as we sat in our tour bus looking out at the displaced individuals. We all felt so much for the families and the area, and wanted to help these people get their lives back together. But we all knew that idling outside of the school and simply watching the results of a massive disaster was not the answer to enlightening the public about its devastation. Hopefully the right answer is out there.

On a lighter note, we returned from San Miguel later that evening and had a Costa Rican dance class after dinner. Let me tell you, even if I had intensive one-on-one dance sessions with one of these professionals every day for the next 5 years, I would not have anything close to the understanding of how to move my hips and limbs the way these people did. It was really quite beautiful to watch them dance Salsa and Meringue, among others. There I made a note to self: sign up for latin dance classes when I return to Heredia.

Saturday morning I woke up early to go on the bird-spotting rendezvous at 6 a.m., and we saw a whole bunch of tropical birds (unfortunately the only ones I significantly remember were the toucans, just like Toucan Sam on the Fruit Loops box!) We later drove to a ranch where a whole 20 horses were saddled and ready for the lot of us to ride. Now, it was raining when we began the trip, and three hours later into the ride it was really coming down. I could not believe how flooded the fields were; even the roads were unpassable by car or foot. We rode through water almost 4 feet deep, which seemed even higher because of the small size of all the native horses. Although not in perfect condition, these were definitely the the most well cared-for horses I've seen since I've been here and compared to the ones I saw in Honduras as well, so that is comforting. At the end of the ride the guide led us to a big field (surprisingly not covered in water, although it was more mud than grass) and let a few of us run the horses around, which was pretty great, albeit for a girl in our group who had not ridden before and could not stop her horse from galloping around nonstop until she was so off balance that her saddle slid and she landed in the mud (she was okay, just decently dirty). Her saddle was fixed and she promptly got back on, and in no more than 2 minutes later she again had her horse galloping straight for the road while she bopped along its back; fortunately the horse knew to stop when it reached the end of the field. Despite the apparent lack of any kind of regulations for this type of activity, I had a great time and am hoping to go again soon :). We returned to the ranch, completely soaked from head to toe (I probably wrung about a gallon of water out of my hair, sneakers, and clothes - no joke), and the wife of the owner allowed us all to use the bathroom to change into anything dry that we had. While we were waiting, she brought out coffee and galletas (cookies)...the hospitality here is unbeatable. Finally in a drier state, we loaded up into our van and began the trip home to Heredia. What a weekend!