About Craig Ouellette

Recent Posts by Craig Ouellette

Touched By A Mountain Gorilla

This isn’t me, but wish it was. Reminded me of my encounter with Marika in 2008. Enjoy the video. It gets going around 1 minute in. Awesome.

http://www.wimp.com/mountaingorilla/

You can’t have that experience sitting at home. :) Travel.

Hot Web Rubdown by Moroccan Man on a Marble Floor

So I’m laying face down, ass up (but skivvies on), on a marble floor. The room is hot, steamy, and there are three or four other men in skivvies getting hot rubdowns by other half naked Moroccan men. They scrub with hot water, some sort of soap and a rough brush that scrapes off the dead skin from my body. And boy, who knew there was so much of it! There’s also something called a “massage”, but it’s more like a twisted, half yoga-half chiropractic twisting session. It did feel good, but there were times, as I was being lifted against the half naked man’s legs, that I thought “Oh my god this hurts, I hope I don’t pop out of place!”. I didn’t.

The main rubdown room was in the back. It has no lights other than small holes in the domed ceiling. There’s another room you walk through, that has some sort of open shower stalls, though no one was in these. The front room of the bathing area is cooler, and is the rinse room. And through a door, and a VERY low ducking under a ceiling, you enter the entry way, which is a 50 foot tall starred dome, with star shaped vents that have sun streaming in.

This is a Hammam. A traditional Moroccan (and Turkish too, I think) bath house. The one I was in is hundreds of years old, and is the place you go to really get clean. It was probably more important back when there weren’t showers and plumbing, but it is still an important part of Moroccan life. Naturally, the men and women have completely separate hours. It would be a bit impure (And really very counter to the whole way Muslim’s do things here) to be getting a hot wet rubdown from a man while topless women were getting hot wet rubdowns from other topless women right next to you.

But that’s how it works for the gals too. I met two Belgian gals on my birthday, and they described their experience, and it was remarkably similar to mine. Though they didn’t mention anything about the strong smell of cigarettes on the attendants breath. Maybe they didn’t have it.

It was really fun, strangely enough. And I haven’t felt that clean in a long time. He cleaned everything but my crotch and butt crack. (But he got the cheeks!).

So for my Birthday, on Monday, I went down to the Djeema El Fna, the 1000 year old square at the center of Marrakech. I had some street food, enjoyed the jovial, fun, playful way the vendors try to get your attention to eat at their stalls. They mostly have he same menu (minus the one with the goat heads), but the food did vary in tastiness. I never could find my buddy Mike. He stayed at a different hotel, we set up time to meet and somehow missed each other. A strange way to end 10 days of good travel together. Never did get to say thanks or goodbye.

So I hung out with other travelers. The aforementioned Belgian gals. And an Aussie who looked a lot like Jesus. And a fun Italian guy with a great laugh, who was only there for the dinner parts. We chatted, we swapped stories, we laughed of the Moroccan sales method, and I told them it was my birthday and I was determined to find a beer in Morocco.

Judging from stories of the Australian couple in Fez who, on a search for alcohol, were sent down back alleys to an unmarked door. They were let inside and the men (all men) sitting inside drinking looked up guiltily at the door like teenagers caught by their parents. Around the corner in the next room was the “bar”, where a man showed them a bottle of wine while looking around to make sure no one was watching. He wouldn’t let them hold it either. And when they bought it, they were ushered out a side door into another alley.

OR, the two Belgian gals, who were led to an equally dark alley and door, and when they entered… it was all women! Who knew, women in Morocco drink. So they ordered beers (Flag Special) and sat down. Then realized that these women were sure dressed provocatively. And there were indeed a couple of men in the room, and…oh, Hookers! A whole room full. They had no problems, were not assumed to be hookers, enjoyed their drinks and left.

So, I figured, this i going to be one hell of an awesome quest down the back alleys of Morocco. Leading to adventures, strange tales and odd happenings. So in French, Florine (tall belgian girl) asks the waiter “where can we find some beer?”. He says “At the end of that street there is a hotel called Tazi. They have the only bar in the Medina.”

Well that was easy!

So we went. Had three beers. Talked lots more. I had a Moroccan man say “Fuzzy wuzzy was a bear, Fuzzy wuzzy had no hair, Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t fuzzy was he?”. And he wanted to know what it meant…um, ok.

Oddly in a place where drinking is so hidden (though technically not illegal like it is in Kuwait), they sold us our last beers as they were closing and said we could drink it on the street. So we walked along, drinking beers to the Djeema El-Fna. We did slip them into pockets when we got within sight of the big Mosque though. We know enough to not be THOSE tourists who essentially give the finger to the mosque. Not going to that, that’s not cool.

And when I headed back to my hostel, I fully expected to get offered hash and pot about 10 times, since I had been offered it tons of times in Marrakech. But I wasn’t offered it once. Without the scooter traffic and shops and noise, it’s almost like I walked back in time hundreds of years as I cruised through the alleys.

The next day was a rainy, walking tour of some palaces. Some shopping. Some more eating in the square, with Monkeys climbing all over me (for a tip of course).

The final day was the Hammam rubdown, and a final tour of Marrakech, where I got way off the tourist track. And the touts seemed to pick up to take me to the tanneries and other places, but I politely declined “No thank you, I’m just exploring”,
and they would be insistant “Just a quick look, no pressure.”
And I’d say, what turned out to the be magic words: “I’ve been here for three weeks. I’m good.”
They would smile the knowing Oh-yes-you’ve-seen-all-our-techniques smile, and say “Welcome Morocco. Have fun.”

 

If you need to get the touts to go away, politely decline, then say (whether you have or not), that you’ve been here for 3 weeks, and they will leave you alone willingly. (Now don’t ALWAYS do this, as you’ll miss out on some fun adventures (see the jewelry buying in Meknes for instance), but if you’re not in the mood, you now have your magic spell to use.

The walking, wandering led to a cool photography museum, with pics from 1870-1950 Morocco. And strangely, a lot of things looked almost exactly the same. And many things were different. It was a great way to end the trip, with this sort of time machine into the world of Morocco before. Some really cool images. Back in the day, the female coverings (which I’m blanking on the name right now) were all white. Completely white. Like ghosts. Now they tend to be black if it’s a total covering, except the eyes. Though if it’s not that complete, the colors vary wildly and the clothes are very beautiful.

And I had a cobra put around my neck. And other snakes too. And took pics with the snake charmers on the square. It was fun to do, and of course required a tip. But it was “Good price, Moroccan price”.:) (After I talked them down from 200 MAD (That’s $25USD, ) to 50 MAD (Tha’ts about $6…still a bit pricey, but what the hell. When am I going to have a cobra on my neck…)
I asked “Isn’t it poisonous?”,
They said “Yes, yes, very”.
I said “How do you make it not bite? Has it been devenomized?”
Them “Yes, very poisonous.”
Hmmmm…..

And so that’s the scoop. That’s the journey. That’s the adventure…

But wait, we’re not done. There’s one more story to be told…

Fez: Bargaining With Your GUIDE!

Ahhhh, the Fez Medina, a wonderful, crazy, busy, friendly, alien, hostile, relentless, bustling, angering, joyful, tasty, stinky maze of madness and humanity. Fez is the largest intact ancient city of it’s kind in the world. And it is ENORMOUS. 150,000 people live in the twisty turny maze of the medina. World class leather, carpets and pottery are made. A wall that’s 30 feet tall and 30 plus kilometers long surrounds it (and that’s just part of it). It’s been there for 1400 years or something. The “new” part is 700 years old. It is INSANE.

And I was there on the goat holiday (it’s still going. Reports vary from 3 days to 10 days. Guess it depends on home much money you have or how religious you are, how many days you take off). It really is AMAZING. So cool to walk around. To see, hear, smell. Awesome.

But one thing that doesn’t stop for any holiday is the Touts.

Now, if you’ve been to other countries, you konw the touts. The Men (it’s always men), ranging from 12-35 (or older sometimes) who come up to you and welcome you, tell you they love your country and then insist on:
1. guiding you someplace you don’t want to go
2. guiding you someplace you know how to get to
3. taking you to the a. tanneries. b. pottery lane c. carpet shop d. berber pharmacy
4. say your hotel is closed, but they know one who isn’t
5. take you to a restraunt, shop, taxi stand, cafe.

And they don’t take no for an answer (well, the annoying ones don’t).

So you get this head down mentality that keeps you from engaging with the NOT annoying people who live and work in the Medina. But they find you anyway. And here are a few tales of Fez.

TALE 1: “YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH ME?”

So I’m out touring fez for my second day there. Enjoying sites. I head out to Barj Nord, a big fortress outside the medina with views of the sprawl. And meet some Polish tourists. Chat a bit. Generally I’m not bothered. I goto an old tomb on a hill with a great view again. There’s a berber man there, he welcomes me, offers to show me his carpet and his hats. He’s nice, it’s pleasant. I don’t buy a rug, but buy a nice knit hat for 5 bucks. He warns me of pickpockets.

I get back to the medina just fine. Enjoy lunch and head back to my guesthouse (DAR FATIMA, I recommend it. They are super nice and fun). I walk in and, as manifesting works… there are 2 American girls sitting in the living space! Yahoo!!!!!! YA-FUCKING-HOOOOO!!!!! :)

Well we chat, they just came from the desert. I ask of the tour, there’s was WAY cheaper than what I was about to book. Hmmmm… They were led to Dar Fatima by a guy named Mohammed (not the same Mo as I met before…oh wait, I havne’t told that story yet. Well, in another email). So me and the girls decide to go explore and maybe grab some food in a bit (it’s like 5:30, so it’s dark). Well there was some confusion with Mohammed, because he was going to take them around, but they’d said they have no money, he seemed okay with that. Wanted to “practice his english. He’s a student” (That is clue number one my friends…)

So if I’m going to go with them, he will charge me 150 Dhm (that’s almost 20 bucks) to join them, but they are free. Well…that’s stupid. I know where I’m going and just like to explore if I don’t. But I’m going out at the same time, so we walk down all the steps from Fatima and go outside.

As soon as the door closes, Mohammed leans forward agressively toward me and says “You got a problem with me?”
I have NO IDEA what he’s talking about. “YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH ME?”
I have a habit when shocked of smiling or sort of laughing…well, you don’t do this to a Moroccan man.
Me “Are we really going to have this conversation? What are you talking about?”
Him “You have a problem with me”
Me “Really, you wait till the door closes and now you say this?”
(I’m thinking…I have no idea what to do right now and no idea what is going on…)

Well, we’re on a little alley in the medina of Fez. A couple folks walking by stop. The girls have NO IDEA what is provoking this. And honestly, I’m so annoyed by all the fucking touts I kinda want to have him swing at me so I can drop kick his ass with some Tae-Kwon-Do!

Sonja tries to figure out what’s up. Explain that they were just in the desert, and went trekking etc etc. Another guy standing there, and his girlfriend motion me over and we start talking. He doesn’t know what’s up, and I feel like he said something about me taking money from Mohammed. (I mean, I KNOW Mohammed is leading them to shops, but if they want to go, they want to go, that’s fine).

Sonja comes over and says, “It’s okay, he understands”. And then he lights up a cigarette, as Sonja and Leah rush through what they did and the costs. It was rediculous. Then he says “How much you pay?” I say “The guy says it’ll be 320 Euro.” Mohammed “No no no. You book with me and I can do it all for 200 Euro. I was just in desert. I’m a guide”.

REALLY? You threaten me, then 5 minutes later want my business. Come on!!!

Anyway, no more tensions there. End up walking with them a bit. I knew they would get harrassed, but I had to go a different direction, or there would be more problems. They were fine. Said Mohammed claimed I was “in the mafia”. Yep. I’ll put out a contract on you, don’t you know it!

Well, the night just keeps getting better. I walk all the way to the main gate, where I knew I could get some good food. I ate alone, because my new friends were being annoyed by the “guide”.

On my way back, it was maybe 8:45pm. Getting late in Morocco time. Shops all closing up. I had to walk the main “road” (it’s maybe 8 feet wide) to a side one and then I would head through a passage to my hotel. Problem is…I’d never walked BACK that way before. So before leaving the cafe I looked on the map, saw some landmarks I could memorize and use, and head out…

I’ve got a bottle of water, I’m walking focused. I don’t really answer folks when they ask the ever coming first question “Where you from? Welcome Morocco. Your second home Brother.”

But then a (maybe drunk, maybe high, maybe just annoying) guy comes up.
“You want to goto Tanneries? To pottery? Buy good stuff?”
“No thank you.”
“I take you, Tanneries You come.”
“No, I’m good.”
“It’s right up here, you come, Good deal”
“No”

I turn around (because I KNOW I’ve gone too fucking far down the street, and more guys are sort of appearing).
So I walk past another couple

“Where you from?”
“LEAVE ME ALONE.”
I never looked back
“FUCK YOU! FUCKER! FUCK YOUR MOTHER! FUCKING ASS HOLE!”Etc etc etc

Now I KNOW I’m in a bad place. I do not have a clear idea where to go. I know even if I PICK the right side alley, it is not close. Maybe 300 meters of quiet alley and dark passage. Then I have to open the fricking door, which isn’t easy to open.

This is not cool.

I can’t leave it alone, so I say (not really very loud) “Glad you practiced your English” as I’m walking away

Other people on the street (thank god they were there) started to look at what was going on. I pass the bank (and know that the alley is right next to it from the map). So I do a hard Left, glance quickly to see if I’m being followed…I’m not.

But I just walked into that alley. And NO ONE is around.

I quickly debate turning back onto mainstreet, going up to gate and hanging at cafe. But really, if they sit and wait, I’m fucked.

So I go for it.
I don’t run, I walk, senses tuned to sounds of footsteps behind.

I slide under the passage, out onto Fatima’s alley. And up to the door. Look back…

no puruit.

Open door. Slide inside.
Fuck me.

SO…

I’m a bit frazzled. Fatima’s daughter wants to know if I’ll be doing the 320 euro tour so we can call the guide for the pick up tomorrow. I say “I need to calm down”.

I chat with Leah and Sonja, we tell stories of Mohammed and the “Fuck your mother” guys. And I think “I’m not going on this tour. It’s way too expensive and I’m in no hurry…but I’m getting out of Fez”.

So I have.
We toured the Jewish quarter and saw a few quick sites this morning. Had some great conversation. Ran into this Aussie couple I chatted with yesterday and then went our separate ways. Emails swapped. New friends.

I rode a grand taxi (a full size Mercedes, painted a certain color depending on the city, that goes between towns. They ALWAYS put 6 people plus the driver in them.) So it was me and another guy in the front seat. Cool…I had my arm out the window as we headed into the LUSH GREEN MOUNTAINS. Um, this is Morocco? Yep, cedar trees and other evergreens. Very pretty. Past the french inspired town of Ifrane. Very cool, kinda wish I’d stayed there. But got to Azrou.

Pretty mountains. Very nice people. The hotel guy is fun, we chat (in rough English) about travel, America, Los Angeles, his trips etc. I met another traveler at the restraunt (though I was by far the ONLY one here for awhile). His name is Mike. He got fed up with Fez and headed out today too. We’ll go hiking tomorrow.

No Touts, though one guide came up to me with his friend, they had a book of testimonials and a photo book a Dutch couple had made for him of their trek. He told me what we could do, said “Just a proposal. No pressure. If you want to book, let me know later”. And they left me be. And I climbed on this cool huge rock pile that’s like 100 feet of volcanic awesome that overlooks the town, the mosque, the full moon and the fading sunlight.

Sweet.

Travel Philosophy: What I Took From “The Beach”

So as many of you know, I tend to mention the book and also the movie “The Beach” in my blogs and emails about travel. Some people have asked if it’s my favorite book (movie) of all time…

… and it is neither. Though I do quite enjoy both versions of the story. And that movie, in addition to some articles in National Geographic Adventure Magazine (RIP), are what made me aware of the backpacking culture beyond just Europe. And sort of kicked off my desire to see these off the way places, in addition to realizing I could do it within my budget. (As I always like to say, Travel doesn’t have to be expensive.)

But one of the main things that I took from “The Beach” is actually a philosophy that has served me well, very well, in my travels abroad (and in the states. And even in my own city when I remember to use it here.) And so thanks to Alex Garland (who wrote the book), John Hodge (who wrote the movie), and my buddy Leonardo DiCaprio (for saying them), here is my travel philosophy when backpacking:

“Trust me, it’s paradise. This is where the hungry come to feed. For mine is a generation that circles the globe and searches for something we haven’t tried before. So never refuse an invitation, never resist the unfamiliar, never fail to be polite and never outstay the welcome. Just keep your mind open and suck in the experience. And if it hurts, you know what? It’s probably worth it.”

I usually put it in a list at the front of each travel journal when I leave to put myself in the right travel mindset.

1. Never refuse an invitation
2. Never resist the unfamiliar
3. Never fail to be polite
4. Never outstay your welcome.

Just keep you mind open and suck in the experience. And if it hurts, you know what, it’s probably worth it.

So there you go faithful team. Hopefully that’ll keep you on the right track to having some new adventures as you travel the globe.

River Rafting in Costa Rica

I realized I didn´t tell you about the awesome white water rafting on the Rio Pacuare. Even though it cost 99 bucks and the rafting part was only 3 1-2 hours it was still totally worth it. The canyon is amazing! Jungle lined slopes and cliffs towering above. Waterfalls pouring down the sides. One that even fell right into the river and you float right next to it. I´ve got a great video of it that I´ll try to post.

The rapids are 3´s and 4´s, and I think everyone of them is fun. The water was big, so big in fact that 2 days before they had to cancel the trip. But fun big. It was wild, but not to rocky. One of our guys fell out on this crazy big wave rapid, and I had to reach over the edge to pull him in as we were crashing through this huge standing wave. It was awesome. He actually rode the wave outside the boat, and I just hung on. Then reached over and pulled him in.

Apparently, this is the river they used when filming that cinematic masterpiece CONGO. Since that is a regular renter for everyone on this list, be sure to watch the white water rafting part and check out the scenery.

Panama: Paradise Take 2

There are places in the world that I always figured I´d go to. Like England, or Thailand, or India. But I´m not sure I ever thought I´d cross a rickety one lane bridge over a flooded river, with semi trucks and people in the same lane of traffic, and step foot into Panama! (Cue Van Halen song now!) Throw up the horns and rock the f out. I did as I sat in a sweaty ass tourist van because for some reason we all lost our travel skills that day and ended up doing the 10 buck per person route from the border to the ferry stop, instead of the 5 buck per person route by teaming up on a taxi. But you know what? Who cares! I´m in Panama!!!!

Took a speedy ferry boat from this town of stilt houses on a canal. But not before I took a piss in the toilet at the ferry boat station. And if I could upload a picture I would and you could laugh, but I´ll just tell you that it was a hole that dropped the shit straight into the canal… which likely makes it not safe for drinking. I´m no expert though. ;)

The boat ride was wild, and right now I´m traveling with Mandee from Chicago. No team, again, no RBR, so stop getting so darn excited. But still, a cool gal and we checked out a few places in Bocas Town before we ended up at Mando Taitu.

Let´s talk about hostels for a second. There are mellow hostels, where you might have a bunk or your own room. Maybe your own bathroom or it´s shared. A nice common area with a kitchen perhaps. Maybe a bar. Internet. A place to meet other travelers, get info on the place you´re at, or maybe sleep…
and then there´s MONDO TAITU!!!!!!!!!

Holy shit. This place is a big ass party 24-7. Now I´m not sure why we ended up getting a room here instead of walking back to Hostel Heike down the street. I think because it was hot and humid and we were sick of carrying our bags. But we got a room, and at night this place was loud. Like raging party loud. Drinking beer everywhere loud. Dope smoking loud. Music bumping, loud talking, wild party loud. And the night before apparently it was coke snorting off the bar loud. Didn´t see any of that this night, but doesn´t mean it didn´t happen.

It was fun for a night, but the next day I moved to Hostel Brisais down the street, with my own bed, own room, own bath, private dock on the water and…holy shit…a-c!

Bocas Del Toro is a series of islands in North west Panama. You might think it´s northeast, but Panama goes east west, not north south. There are some beaches, but it´s mostly mangroves. there are tons of neat houses and restraunts on stilts hanging out over the water. It´s sorta like Venice, at least on the waterfronts of the islands. Mandee and I got a water taxi for 2 bucks and went to the 2 buck beach, and hit the water…. yahoo! Felt so good. We were in front of this big ass resort… that turned out to be a persons house! Hot tub, beach, dock, beautiful blue water, islands all around. Not a bad life Mr. English retired guy.

Yesterday…. Paradise take 2. Me, Mandee (Nurse from Chicago), Crystal (Tour Leader from ATL), Hilary (from Tahoe), and Laura (Yacht worker from Perth, Australia), hire a boat and head to an island beach about 45 minutes away. The water was clear. The beach and trees were beautiful. We hiked around it, looking for pirate gold, and swam, and sang bad hip hop songs. I even read a little of my book on the beach. It was really awesome.

Today I did some scuba, which as always is great. The Lionfish have come here and are destroying the reefs, as they are doing in the Bahama´s as well. So if you want to eat Lionfish, do it. Make it so the locals will hunt and kill them. See, Lionfish are not native to the Atlantic and it´s offshoots. They eat 10 times, or was it 100 times, their body weight daily. And they have up to 2000 offspring in every litter. They have no natural enemies here, and spread like a plague, eating everything and eventually killing off the reefs. Yikes. They are pretty, but it sucks that they are here. The theory is that when Hurricaine Andrew hit Florida, it destroyed the Aquarium and let them into the sea… and like a plague they are taking over.

Besides the fish we saw some Jellyfish! yahoo! same kind as from Australia Tom and Olga! And some stingrays.

It’s All Turtles on the East Coast of Costa Rica

I have not been swept up in a mudslide and sent down a mountain. Though as many of you have heard, the rains here have been pretty intense. Not “Rains of God” intense, like in Uganda, but still very heavy and very continuous. And I don’t pretend to be everywhere in the country… like the Pacific coast. I was trying to decide which way to go, either to the Pacific or Caribbean coast first and then loop around the country, and Mother Nature gave a very clear message to head east to the Caribbean, as the west coast of Costa Rica was declared a disaster area with mudslides and tragic deaths. All the children were off school two days ago in mourning for the 60 plus folks who were buried when a hillside gave way. Hopefully the rains will abate a bit soon, so as to give the country a break.

And due to the rains, I won’t likely be going to Corcaverda or Quepos, since they are flooded.  Now, I didn’t really know that the east coast of Costa Rica was all about turtles. As in, during the high season, from July to the start of October, there are literally 10,000 tourists a week in a town that has 700 residents…. I cançt find the exclamation point to make that last sentence as dramatic as it should be. We had our choices of rooms, because of the slower time that has come. The town of Tortugaro, where the main turtles crawl up on the beach, thousands of them, and lay their eggs, is a cool place. Muddy streets, no cars, chill nice people and tasty food. The only way there is by boat, or you could fly if you were lame. :)

So my first day was landing in San Jose and meeting some other travelers. Getting me “see legs” back, which happened very quickly. Usually it takes 3 days or so to get back into the swing of backpacking. But because I was soooooooo ready for this trip, I felt like I was back at it quickly. Though Ive been cheating a bit… more on that later.

San Jose is a green mountainous town. One friend of mine would say it sucks ass since he was mugged there, and well, if Id been mugged there Id say it sucks ass too. Fortunately I wasnt… but when I was wandering around, trying to locate my hostel as darkness was falling fast, rain was falling hard, and the map I had not only didnçt have all the streets labeled… it didnçt have the hostel in the correct location! So I had to decode where I might be in a town where very few streets have signs or labels, and I was carrying around a lot of money cause I had just stopped off at the bank. Yikes. Eventually I saw a roofline from the side that I imagined to be what the rooftop bar from the hostel would look like if I were outside it, and I was able to find the gate and the very small sign. whew.

I met a few fellow travelers. We all played OMNI SCORE, which is known as Yahtzee in places other than Holland, where Marleen, the games owner, is from.

The next day I cruised to the bus station, got my 2 dollar ticket and rode out of town… into an AMAZING landscape of mountains, valleys, rivers, clouds, rain, sun. Wow. It was spectacular. I looked down to set an Ipod playlist, rocking songs like Ramble On, Touched, Kyrie, St. Elmoçs fire, Africa and more… and looked up as we emerged from a tunnel onto an amazing, uber green landscape. It was great. Music rocking. Street rolling beneath us.

Oddly, I couldn,t help but think of Viet Nam. I just finished reading MATTERHORN, written by my good friend Laurel-s dad, Karl Marlantes, before I left on the trip. And the book is an incredible story of soldiers in Nam. And the terrain and mountains and super thick jungled slopes made me imagine even more the hell the soldiers went through.

After a bus, we transfer to another bus. The first was like a greyhound in the states. The second was like a school bus. No wait, it WAS a school bus!. Replete with seats built for 8 year olds. I love it! sure, my 6 foot frame barely fit, but its traveling like this that makes you really see a place. The bus dropped us at a water taxi, which took us for an hour or more into the Mini Amazon of the northeast of Costa Rica. Awesome.

In Torugaro I ran into Marleen and Ulrike from San Jose, and also made friends with Ina. We saw a baby turtle, about 4 inches long, crawling ot the ocean, but no mass influx of turtles. Again, that was over months ago, and now that I know it exists I will have to come back and check it out sometime. There was a festival for the end of turtle season that consided of 4 of the LOUDEST OUTDOOR BARS IN THE HISTORY OF THE PLANET. Holy crap, the reggaeton was SOOOO LOUD everyone was standing on the paths outside the bars.

The next day we did a canoe trip into the national park… in the rain. Our guide, Mr. Bill, is 84 years old and used to hunt Jaguars and other animals before it was outlawed, and now hes a guide. He had great stories and even though it was raining, we had a great adventure down the sampy canals and into the hidden jungle world. I loved the rain. It made it really cool and feel like quite an adventure. The rest of the day was about eating, yep its me, gotta eat!, and a hike through the jungle and on the beach. I got to know my travel buddies and they are all cool. Ulrike especially was inspiring, as she has MS, but isnçt letting that stop her from living life. She might have an attack at anytime, but sheçs going on an around the world trip, following her dreams, and saying kiss off to the physical issue that might stop other folks. I was humbled and impressed.

And we capped the night off with an Imperial beer, really LOUD raggaeton again, and some Omni Score.

Today was one of the coolest boat rides Içve ever taken in my life. 3 plus hours zipping along a canal and rivers surrounded by jungle and green and occasionally seeing the caribbean beyond. We stopped at stilted restraunts, we got gas from gas pumped in a town that was flooded, and the boats were on the streets and the cars were no where near. There was even a bus parked in the water, collectging travelers.

But it was the jungle, smoothe water, overcast sky, wind in my face, occasional splashes or huge ass splashes that kept it lively and wet that were the best. It was really wonderful.

Paradise Found on a Manzanilla Trail

Today I found paradise on a point of rock overlooking the Carribbean Sea. It’s called Miss May point and its near the town of Manzanilla in the very far southeast of Costa Rica. It juts out from the rainforest, and looms over the massive waves that come crashing in below. The palm lined coast goes for miles and miles in each direction, and the mountains loom green in the distance.

And the waves crash. Loud. And HUGE. And shoot spray 30 feet or more up in the air. Every single wave. It’s like I took a shower in the sea.

Naturally I stood near the edge to take pictures and feel the blast of the surf. The waves would curl in and depending on how they hit the cliff would either shoot a little, say, 15 feet up in the air. Or a lot… one of them rocketed a wall of water onto me that was probably 40 feet high. It was awesome! The caribbean blue stretched to the horizon, as this was the first sunny day of the trip. And on top of that, it wasn’t that hot. It was a perfect temperature, with a perfect breeze, and a perfect partly cloudly sky, with perfect rainstorms on the horizon, and perfect waves and a perfect place at a perfect late afternoon time.

Perfecto.

I got there by renting a bike for $5 in Porta Viejo and riding 15 km down the jungle lined coast. There are a lot of palm lined beaches. And a lot, I mean a LOT of tourist lodges and cabinas. Now most, if not all, blend in pretty well, and are also empty. I’m here in the low, low season for the southern Carib coast, but there are a few more folks than normal since the pacific and central regions are still rainy and flooding. I rode alone the paved street, and also took a detour into the dirt roads that led to the nature conservatory. Muddy trails on a 1 gear bike with a basket. Sweet.

The point is beyond the town of Manzanilla. On a trail that leads for 2 hours till you reach another town that has no roads. The good old Lonely Planet says that it’s like what the Caribbean coast looked like before the tourists came. And if that’s true… no wonder they did. The trail in the jungle, withing 20 feet of a beach and waves and coconuts washing ashore is amazing. And then of course there is paradise.

A few days ago, I left Tortugero in the north, and took a 3 hour water taxi through national forest, along a canel parallel to the caribbean, surrounded by thick walls of jungle green. The boat sat about 10 people and was fast. Damn fast. It was great to slide along. Hear the howler monkeys (which is a surreal sound and not the shrieking monkey noises you might imagine. They are more like a creepy grunt of an orc in the Mines of Moria… yep, I just did an Lord Of The Rings reference.) The boat ride was wonderful. Again, a perfect temperature and breeze. Occasionally our driver would slam on the brakes and show us an alligator or sloth or racoon that he somehow saw while we raced past at 20kph.

Then we ran out of gas… and he had to row us to a little town where the street was flooded and we boated into town and up to the gas pump. The lady brought us the pumper, knee deep in water, and we filled up and were on our way. There was a tourist bus parked in water half up it’s wheels that was collecting folks from another boat. It was pretty surreal.

I stayed a night in Cahuita. Its a pretty mellow town with a black sand beach that I found after trapsing across the rocky headlands and through woods. I could have just taken the road, but this seemed like a more exciting way to get there. It rained a lot at night, but then again, it pretty much always does. :) The next day I hiked approx 11 km round trip through the national park. Along the coast, palm trees, river crossings, monkeys walking right next to the trail, (and also pissing on the trail from above. Missed that shower by about 10 feet!). Saw these awesome neon blue butterflies, and an Eyelash Viper: a snake thats about 10 inches long, and if it bites you you’ll be dead in 15 minutes. So naturally I grabbed it and played with it like a pet… kidding.
The point was beautiful, the beaches serene. It’s all pretty magnificent.

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