September 28/29 – Liberia to Portland

Oh, what a breakfast. The standard gallo pinto and fresh fruit, along with pastries, bacon, cereal and amazing do-it-yourself Belgian waffles. In retrospect, I should have taken that delightful start to my day as a sign of good things to come. Instead, I had a lot of anxiety about whether or not we’d get out of the country and get our mangled travel plans back in order.

Before we even reached the American Airlines desk, some of American counterparts confirmed that the flight to Miami was going to depart as planned. This time we made our way into the open air “gate” area and watched our plane touchdown like a big white mirage. We made it to Miami and I immediately jumped on the phone to Westin to see if they’d forgive our missed reservation the previous night and move it to the current night. I reached someone at Westin reservations who told me that I’d have to call Priceline because I had bid on the room and won it there. I called Priceline and was told that they could do nothing to help me, and that I needed to call the hotel if there was any chance of getting the reservation changed. My hope was dwindling to depressing levels when I called the front desk of the Dallas Westin directly. I spoke to a wonderful girl name Emily who, when she heard our predicament, changed the reservation.

We didn’t have long to get lunch before our flight was scheduled to depart for Dallas, so we sat down at a sports bar in the terminal and ordered our food. I got a beer and quickly swallowed the $3 shot of tequila that came with it. I needed courage and assertiveness.

I called Southwest Airlines, remembering that you “attract bees with honey,” but knowing full well that I might have to get forceful, dramatic, pushy and/or desperate in order to get our already missed flight (from Phoenix to Portland) switched to the following day. A man who sounded competent and fairly kindhearted got on the phone and I jumped into my frantic, jumbled speech: “I’m in a bind and I’m on my honeymoon and I hope you can help me…”

Moments later the man said, “It looks like you’re already booked on tomorrow’s flight.”

WHAT? I started to cry a little in relief, sniffling and babbling thanks to this poor guy sitting in a call center in who-knows-where. Once we would arrive home the next day I would find an email from Southwest in my inbox. They had received the message I sent from the Liberia hotel and, taking great pity on me, changed the reservation – though that is something they hardly ever do because they have “rules” to abide by.

I returned to our table in the restaurant and told Jesse the news. We were jubilantly thankful. Our waitress poured our remaining beer into a “to-go cup” for the plane (who knew that was an option?!) and we made it to our gate just in time to board the flight to Dallas.

Upon our arrival, we took the Westin shuttle to our hotel. The room was beautiful, but we had little time to enjoy it. We got dinner at the Denny’s across the street and then headed straight for bed. We rose very early the next day and hopped on our plane to Phoenix, where we met Johnny. In a wonderful display of kindness, he brought all the rest of our luggage to the airport for us. We checked as many bags as we could (we were now traveling with 6 of them) and started the 4 hour wait for our flight to Portland.

In my carry on book bag was the Dia de los Muertos style skull sculpture (skullpture) that our dear friend Stephanie had given us as a wedding gift. The massive clay skull is painted and bedecked with beads, jewels and knickknacks. I was fairly apprehensive to send the gorgeous beast through the x-ray machine at the security checkpoint. I carefully set my bag on the conveyer belt and walked through the metal detector, keeping my eye on the machine screener. I watched as the skull slowly rolled onto the screen, a tangled unidentifiable mess to my untrained eye.

“WHAT is THAT?!” yelled the lady.
“A skull,” I replied.
“Alla the sudden I’ve got somebody LOOKING at me,” said the lady.
“It was a wedding gift,” I said. Like I really needed to say that.
“Then you’ve got some PRETTY WEIRD friends,” said the lady.
I wasn’t about to dispute that.

They didn’t even want to unwrap my skull and look at it; I was shocked. Their loss. We had made it through our last significant challenge. We boarded the plane to Portland, then took the MAX from there. We got home by about 6:30pm after more than 2 weeks away. Jesse forgot to carry me over the threshold. We were home and we were married!

THE END.

September 27 - Papagayo to Liberia

I woke up at 1:45am, thinking I had overslept. A little over 4 hours later, the alarm sounded and we got breakfast before lugging our heavy bags up the hill to reception. Reliable Armando picked us up and we left lovely Papagayo for Liberia, where our departure airport was located.

We paid the requisite departure tax (so cruel, making you pay to leave the country you don’t entirely want to leave in the first place) and walked over to the American Airlines desk. The attendant looked up our names in his computer and looked up at us slowly, saying “I have some bad news for you.” The bad news was that our flight was delayed and unconfirmed, so we went upstairs to have coffee and to play Farkle. Before long, we, along with a big group of other Americans, learned that our flight had been outright cancelled and we’d have to leave the next day at the earliest. Now, when I have made a plan, I think things to go according to that plan. I felt a bit of panic.

My unhappiness was tempered by the free hotel, lunch, dinner and breakfast vouchers the airline provided for the nearby Hilton Garden Inn. A group of us packed into the hotel shuttle, driven by a mad kamikaze man who seemingly almost flipped the van over on the way into the parking lot. We checked into our room, which was very, very clean and comfortable, and walked down to the internet room to get in touch with the U.S. for the first time in a week. I emailed my mother, the Westin hotel (in Dallas) that we were supposed to be staying at that night, Southwest Airlines (whose flight we were supposed to be catching to Portland the next day), and Annie and Johnny (who we were supposed to be meeting up with the next day to retrieve the rest of our luggage).

We spent the rest of the day eating delicious food, swimming and sunbathing at the beautiful tiled pool, drinking cocktails, and watching television. We also got some laundry done in an honest-to-goodness washer (read: not a sink) and were told by our new friend Lou that we are a “very international looking couple.” I sure liked the sound of that.

September 23 - Tortuguero

I mis-set the alarm, but the sound of howler monkeys screaming nearby had woken us early anyway. We had breakfast and the group set out for a nature walk through the forest. We were provided rubber boots to wear, but neither Jesse nor I had packed any socks. (Instead, we each brought a pair of flip flops and a heavier duty pair of Teva-type hiking sandals.) I wrapped a dirty tank top around each foot before donning the boots, and Jesse went skin to rubber. He did wrap a bandana around each of his calves to prevent them from being rubbed raw.

We explored an area a short boat ride away, walking across balance beam logs and trekking through shallow muddy pits. We saw several poison dart frogs (the pretty red “blue jeans” variety), giant grasshoppers and spiders, a cousin of the Resplendent Quetzal (the mystical bird I most wanted to see – this was the closest I’d come – besides my quetzal magnet and keychain) called a trogan, and huge bullet ants. We learned how to survive in the rainforest by making palm roofs and eating hearts of palm.

Hot and sweaty as usual, we returned to the lodge for another swim in the tortuga pool before lunch. Ever on the go, we then got back on a boat to visit the small village of Tortuguero. This felt like the first time we were really being exposed to local culture, which we appreciated. The back side of the village bordered the Caribbean beach, where Gerardo gave a long explanation of how turtles come to shore to lay their eggs. When he had finally finished and we were turned loose for an hour, Jesse immediately stripped down to board shorts and jumped in the ocean!

We spent the rest of our free time exploring the village, walking down its dirt path “main drag.” We watched various small dogs roaming all over the town and stopped in the “super market” for Jesse’s much-desired rum and coke in a can. Many clouds had gathered and it rained for just a little while. We had a hard time believing this was the height of the rainy season.

Back in our cabin, we noticed men working on an electrical box and soon realized the electricity had been turned off. It was cool enough, so I took a short nap. I awoke to Jesse handing me one of those magical tropical fruit cocktails. He said, God told me to get this for you. Thank you God, I said, and the electricity promptly turned back on.

We went for yet another swim – during which Jesse broke all my pool caution rules by:

1. Tossing me in the air and letting me fall completely underwater.
2. Carrying me on his shoulders “chicken” style.
3. Dance lifting me “Patrick Swayze” style.
4. Laying on the bottom of the pool while I tried to walk on his back.

It was dark by the time we returned to our room and we decided to rest since there was still some time before dinner was to be served. We were resting on the double bed, staring at the ceiling, when –all of the sudden- the power went out. We were in utterly dark darkness. Rain had started to fall outside and howler monkeys sounded. It was amazing.

The rain continued to fall even harder and the lights popped back on at a couple minutes to seven. We loaded on raingear and walked over to the dining hall for dinner. More special treatment awaited us. One of the servers with whom we’d become familiar asked if we wanted a table on the porch in order to watch the rain. He led us to a nice candle lit table at the very corner of the covered porch.

We sloshed over to the bar for my nightly journal writing. Jesse had been told a live Calypso band was playing, so as it turned out, I was immediately interrupted from writing by a band member who handed both Jesse and I each a maraca. Holy smokes, I have no rhythm. In fact, I messed up whatever rhythm Jesse may have had alone. My biggest mistake came when the band members were asking whether it was anyone’s birthday…anyone’s anniversary. For some reason I opened my mouth and proudly declared that it was our Luna De Miel! We were instructed to stand and dance, just the two of us. The band began to play “Besame Mucho.”

Oh, I was so embarrassed. The song went on and on. The Spaniards cheered and gave us enthusiastic instructions in Spanish that I didn’t understand. I was happy when the song ended, but what a charming memory!

September 22 - San Jose to Tortuguero

5:00am. We got ready quickly and went outside to wait for our transportation to Tortuguero. We didn’t know just what to expect, so I think we were a little surprised when a massive tour bus pulled up. We boarded and our tour guide, Alexis, did a poll of everyone on board – Does anyone here speak English? Jesse and I were the only two to raise our hands. We peered around at the other tourists and quickly realized every other person on the bus was from Spain. Will do you alright with Spanish, Alexis asked. Jesse quickly nodded. The Spanish onslaught began. I sat quietly in my seat and looked out the window.

We stopped for breakfast at a simple roadside restaurant, seemingly designed for large groups of travelers on giant tour busses. We had our first taste of gallo pinto (pronounced “guy-yo peen-toe”) – the traditional Costa Rican breakfast of white rice, black beans and seasonings. We also had fried eggs, fresh fruit, and hotdogs (yes, hotdogs). Hot, strong Costa Rican coffee rounded out the satisfying meal.

After quite a bit more driving, over mountains, through rainforest and past banana plantations, we reached the chaotic departure dock where a couple hundred tourists were weaving about, trying to collect their baggage. We bought a couple coconuts with their tops sheared off and straws stuck into the sweet, almost spicy water within. We boarded a small, flat-bottomed boat with a new guide, Fernando, and a bunch of new Spaniards. We set out over the Tortuguero Canals, headed for our rainforest lodge, immediately spotting several new varieties of birds on the shore and flying above the water.

We stopped for about 15 minutes at a river “rest stop” with a bar and small gift shop. We enjoyed our first Imperial beers – well loved in Costa Rica – and explored the area. We hopped back in the boat and sped to the docks of the hidden Evergreen Lodge. We deboated (a person can deplane, so why not deboat?), and were immediately handed a glorious cocktail containing, at the very least, papaya, banana, mango and carrot juices. We were assigned to cabin #21, up on stilts with a porch marked with two rocking chairs on either side of the door. Inside, a sizeable room with large “windows” covered only by screen and heavy curtains. One double bed, one twin bed. A fully equipped bathroom and small back porch.

We rushed off to a buffet lunch at the lodge dining hall, then back to our rooms to grab our cameras for the afternoon canal tour. We stopped at the entrance to Tortuguero National Forest so our guide, Gerardo, could pay the requisite fee to a park guard. While he was busy, some men on land called us up from the boat. I didn’t realize what was happening, but Jesse and I got off the boat along with everyone else and stood crowded around a tall bush next to a small, worn-out basketball court. What is it, I asked. A snake, said a nice Spain lady! I maneuvered around the rest of the group, using my height as an advantage to stick my head into the bush and get a great, macro shot of the amazing, bright yellow snake that was curled up on an inner limb of the plant.

Gerardo finally turned around and got a quizzical look on his face when he realized we had all deboated (again). We got back on the boat and entered the smaller canals of the National Forest. We saw an amazing array of wildlife, all pointed out by our highly observant and specially trained guides! There were various types of herons, basilisks (“Jesus lizards”), a caiman, an iguana, howler monkeys, spider monkeys, bats and a gar fish (holy teeth), not to mention a ton of additional types of birds – which we’d later try to identify in my handy waterproof Audubon Costa Rica bird pamphlet. At one point, our guide explained that the striking yellow snake we had seen back on land - the pretty one with the noticeable protruding "eyelashes" - was a Golden Eyelash snake...one of the most deadly snakes in the country. A warning before I climbed into its hiding spot would have been appreciated.

We had time for a swim in the lovely new tortuga-shaped swimming pool before dinner. Yes, that would be the dinner where I poured salt all over my freshly served spaghetti and marinara, thinking it was the (soon to be realized as very elusive) shaky parmesan cheese. I felt a lot better once Jesse and I were bestowed with a giant fruitball-studded pineapple filled with coconut dream cocktail. Oh man. The perks of being on honeymoon.

That night I initiated a tradition of settling down with Jesse at the little bar on the lodge grounds (housed under a simple pavilion) and writing down the day’s events. It was a relaxing end to a long day and we even managed to see two more types of animals before retiring – a gigantic blue land crab and a big ugly frog.

September 21 - San Jose

After a whirlwind wedding week (not to mention more than 14 months of planning before that), Jesse and I were finally aboard our flight from Dallas, Texas to San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. We were delighted to learn we’d be getting lunch on the plane – which never seems to happen since the economy took a nosedive. As the flight attendants moved closer with their food carts, full of aromatic trays, we overheard the two options for lunch: chicken with mashed potatoes or lasagna. Oooh, lasagna sounds great, I said.

I took a moment to share with Jesse a story about the time I was returning from a trip to Italy and Greece and breakfast was being served on the plane. The choices were (a) delicious, sweet fruit crepe bonanza or (b) stale, tasteless ham scramble. I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into option (a), but of course the last little package of deliciousness was given to the person ahead of me. I was stuck with artificially colored eggs.

I said, just watch, the same thing will happen again. Lo and behold, the last lasagna was distributed to a person in the row in front of us. The chicken wasn’t half bad though.

We landed in San Jose and spent a little while getting through Customs. I was crossing my fingers for the smiling, green-shirted lady at stand #2. Jesse, ahead of me in line, got to the front and went to the first open stand. Then (yes!) the light at stand #2 illuminated. Green Shirt didn’t smile at me once the whole time.

Our driver, Manuel, picked us and another honeymooning couple up at the airport and we headed toward our hotel. We couldn’t see too much of San Jose as we drove through since it was late, but we caught a glimpse of Asian construction workers in pink hardhats. Manuel explained that these men were Chinese workers, sent it by the Chinese government, to pay for a huge new Chinese-funded stadium in the city.

We reached the Grano de Oro, a sparkling, gorgeously renovated mansion, and were led to our room. We were both surprised at the hardwood floors, lush bedding and the multi-product soap dispenser in the shower. Jesse watched the news in Spanish and learned that the locals (Ticos) were outraged over the inappropriate, drunken behavior of the Chinese construction workers. We also made note of the sign language interpreter in the corner of the television screen during the broadcast.

We hurried over to the attached, partially open-air Grano de Oro restaurant to get dinner before it closed. I had read amazing reviews about the place, and since our meals were going to be all inclusive for the rest of the trip, we decided to splurge. It may have been the fanciest restaurant I’ve ever dined in. I ordered espresso pork shortribs, which turned out to be like a big cubed chunk of fatty, undercooked bacon. Not good.

My salad (very Oregon-esque with giant blackberries, gorgonzola and nuts) was tasty, and so were the strangely pureed potatoes I got on the side. Jesse liked his macadamia-nut crusted fish, so it was a win overall. The experience was topped off by our waiter, Walter, teaching us proper tipping customs and encouraging me to correctly pronounce the French name of our dessert – a weird mélange of different elements including avocado ice cream and hot watermelon.

We returned to our room and immediately headed for bed. The next morning would be the first of many early, early wake-up calls.

pura vida!

And we have returned...from the green, sticky, sunburnt land of Costa Rica. We touched down in Portland Tuesday - a day late - greeted by grey rain and chilliness. I haven't managed to accomplish much recuperation yet after the honeymoon, but one of my priorities - a Flickr site with our honeymoon photos - is up and running!

Take a look.

More Costa Rica photos will be posted once we sort through the ones on Jesse's camera, and the wedding photos will follow close behind.

In the meantime, I'll be posting a series of blog entries outlining our entire trip. Stay tuned!