A realisation and three anecdotes

There was far too much reportage in my last two posts. Apologies. It can be difficult not to when I go on exciting, physical adventures! But now, back to emotional discoveries and meaningful stories.

I realise that Community, with a capital C, isn’t something I can just create. I will find it as I join in, find work, share activities with people...and go to birthday parties. I was at a delightful one this weekend, two nights and a full day at the beach. Yet, I feel unsettled with people I don’t know. It’s flotsam from the many months alone during the pandemic. 

New people can make me anxious, but equally I sense that my untethered year might be disconcerting for them. It’s exotic and unusual, and I don’t fit into a definable slot. So when asked where I’m from or where I live, a certain wariness (or is it weariness?) comes over me. How much do they want to know? Are they really interested or is it out of their comfort zone? 

Rather than spin out my uncommon adventure, I tend to downplay it, figuring people don’t want to hear of my existential questions. But mulling it over now, I think I’m selling myself short. Things out of the ordinary are grist for the story-making mill and I should be celebrating this. Am I concerned that it will sound like bragging? I’ll blame that on my British heritage and move on. 

So here’s my resolution: I am going to take the bolshiness from my misspent youth and combine it with the awareness, experience and wisdom I have now. 

It’s a new year’s resolution made one month before the start of spring. Why not?

Nature’s rumbling tummy

We had an earthquake in the wee hours of Friday night. It measured 5.2 on the Richter Scale, enough to wake me from deep sleep. Weirdly enough, I enjoy them. Costa Rica has lots of shakes, averaging 350 a month, but most are just tremors, often unnoticeable. Friday’s was a middling one; nothing to worry about. The room shook, I was shifted from side to side in my bed for just a few moments, then it subsided. 

I lay awake for a while, initially wondering if it would continue and then, when it didn’t, my thoughts turned to Turkey and Syria, who have just had two more earthquakes. I felt a sense of guilt in my comfortable bed, listening to the howling wind outside. I was reminded to be grateful. I know, it’s an over-used sentiment these days, it makes some people roll their eyes. A number of years ago, I tried writing five things down in a little notebook by my bed. Five things that I was grateful for from that day. It didn’t appear to do anything. Perhaps I’m late to enlightenment, but it feels more real now. I’m older, I’ve seen more of life’s challenges. I do have much to be grateful for, not least this travel opportunity. But also friends, family, physical health, financial stability, the nature surrounding me. Birds. Homemade cake. My girls!

Addendum

The winds have been so strong throughout Costa Rica that no aviation fuel could be landed at the docks in Limon – the country was 24 hours shy of running out before the winds subsided. Can you imagine if the planes couldn’t be refueled after disgorging all the tourists? Chaos. I bet this sort of things goes on behind the scenes in countries around the world, and we never learn about it.

Unexpected moves, of a different kind

I had a 30-year old flirting with me at the beach birthday party on Sunday which, once I got past my astonishment and realised what he was doing, amused me to no end. It wasn’t at all inappropriate, he’s an adult after all, but oh my goodness, so young. The smooth skin, the tattoo on his arm, the wide-eyes and sideways glances! I am not a Cougar, there will be no follow-up on his insinuated suggestions, but it was fun. Flirting is so enjoyable, perhaps I’ll make it my new past time.

Miaow!

And yet another earth-shaking event

On the drive back from the beach in Tomatina, Justine’s feisty red subaru, we were stopped halfway up a curving hill on the two-lane highway parallel to the Pacific Ocean. I was only a dozen cars back, so I could see there was some sort of activity going on. A truck backed up, a man got out. A few other men milled around. Road works, I assumed, turning off the ignition and gazing at the forest on both sides of me. I looked over again, the man was climbing back into the pick-up. Excellent, I thought, let’s go. But the truck only moved forward a few dozen metres before stopping again. Another man appeared and ran, properly ran, towards the pick-up truck, with a real sense of urgency. Two seconds later, a massive tree crashed down across the road. Leaves flew everywhere. Branches snapped. I felt the forest become silent.

It was so unexpected. 

Then one man appeared with a chainsaw, others came with machetes and brooms. It was a road crew. This was an organised act. I watched, amused, as they tidied up. It took a while. For me this was such a Costa Rican experience, and a reminder of the importance of letting go. Shit happens. Unexpected delays occur. Enjoy the interruption (whilst acknowledging that it can be difficult for the chronically late or the people juggling multiple jobs and those who deem themselves too important to be inconvenienced – the same ones who exhale impatiently while in line – but they did pause to let an ambulance and a fire truck through).

So an add-on to my resolution from the first section: I want life to interrupt me, I don’t need to control every moment.  I may be rootless (sin domicilio fijo), but I’m grounded.

I'm just back from four days on El Camino de Costa Rica with Urri Trek. Hence the silence.

Overall? Fabulous. What an interesting way to see the country. It was also tough. Although my actual fitness is definitely up to speed, I would need better conditioning, both mental and physical, if I were to do the whole route. My feet, for instance, felt hot and achy by early afternoon. Taking my boots off at the end of the day was such a relief. Then putting them up on a wall for fifteen minutes miraculously relieved much of the inflammation and discomfort.

I started at stage 3, joining two people who had begun at the Caribbean coast, so I was a little unsure how it would play out. Oddly enough they were both doctors, but strangers to each other, so it was fine. Ed is British, born in Wales and was working in London at two separate medical centres before deciding to spend two months in Costa Rica. He’s a GP, 35 years old, seemingly single and working to improve his Spanish which he’d begun learning during an internship in Mexico. 

The other doctor, Juan José but known as JJ, is a Costa Rican 70-year old retired audiologist. For his last fifteen years he worked at the Children’s Hospital whilst also running a private practice and doing simultaneous translation for conferences (entrepreneurial, as I have mentioned before). His specialty meant he enunciated clearly and he was a pleasure to chat to, although like many men of his age and elevated social position, he did most of the talking.

For the whole four days we spoke only Spanish, which while excellent for my language skills, makes it difficult to be me. Humour is hard in a foreign language, as are emotions. So trying to share an anecdote or an opinion tends to feel wooden, chronological. 

Jairo, the guide, kept telling me the bird names in Spanish but I drew the line there. I can’t remember two different names for a new bird.

I was happy to be between the ages of Ed and JJ. If they’d both be in their 30s, they would have left me in the dust! I am like the tortoise, with one speed. Although not as slow as a reptile, and happy on the uphills, I couldn’t shift the throttle. Perhaps with some training!

El Camino de Costa Rica is an impressive venture. A woman by the name of Conchita Espino came up with the idea of walking from the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific Ocean (Mar a Mar, as they say in Spanish). But more than just a hike, she wanted to support the poor rural, agricultural communities and to promote the interior of Costa Rica – most tourists head straight to the two coasts. The route stays away from major centres and hikers sleep in tiny pueblos or remote communal centres. It felt as if we are meeting the soul of Costa Rica. Every person we talked to, had food from, or who set us up in our sleeping arrangements was warm and friendly and excited to share their community with us.

They also fed us well, and not just rice and beans (although there was a lot of that)! Eggs, chorizo, tortillas, pinto for breakfast. Soup, quesadillas, potatoes and fish, spinach salad with hamburger, piccadillo perhaps and often rice and beans in different forms. We had three large meals a day: breakfast around 6 am and lunch often not until 2 o’clock or even later. Dinner would be at 6:30 and I don’t think we ever stayed up past 8 pm. Top meal? The packed lunch we picked up from Rita in a bus stop in Pacayitas. A banana-wrapped tortilla loaded with piccadillo, beans, rice, chicken, carrots and salad. As a bonus, we even ate the plate! 

Words don’t really do justice to the hiking over many different terrains. The first day we went through an Indigenous reserve, with Lorenza, our rather laconic guide who walked the whole 13 kms in wellies, waiting patiently while we struggled up or down steep river side trails thick with mud and rock. It was the most challenging walking of the Camino, and JJ fell, or rather slipped, seven times (we kept score: JJ “won” 7-1-0-0, with my slip being the only other number on the scoreboard).

Ed, stopping to tie a bootlace, spotted a fer-de-lance (terciopelo in Spanish) curled up in a patch of sun on some dried leaves at the bottom of a large tree. Beautiful, if deadly. Towards the end of that day, we crossed the Pacuare river on a hanging bridge, using a metal “basket” rather like an old-time gondola, with ropes to pull us after the swoop down to the midway point of the river. 

That first night, sleeping in a small cabin on my own, I should have been disturbed by the number of large transport trucks using their air brakes on the nearby road. But almost nothing could wake me after my 3 am start from San Jose and so many kilometres on foot. 

In the next place, again in my own personal cabin, this time an A-frame with a spectacular view over a dammed lake and Turrialba far off in the distance, I left open the doors to the balcony when I climbed into bed figuring I would be safe in my tree-top home. Soon, though, I heard a lot of rustling, and then a thump. Tired as I was, I decided I would sleep better with the door closed, and I’m glad I did as I continued to hear scrambling and thuds. I suspect they were zarigüyas (possums) or perhaps mapaches (raccoons) but didn’t want them making themselves at home inside, even if I was sleeping up in the mezzanine!

The first few hours of each day were the best for spotting birds, and I added some new ones to my life list: Collared aracari, chachalacas, scarlet-rumped tanagers, the pale-billed woodpecker, an American Kestrel and the crested guan, amongst many, many others. Perhaps I have a little ADHD as I’m much happier hiking when I have something else to do, such as searching for birds. I felt the same with diving which I embraced more whole-heartedly when I took along an underwater camera.

Cold showers marked our arrival at each new place, which is certainly a good divider between the sweat and effort of hiking, and the welcome relief of sandals and clean clothes. Temperature-wise, it was fresh in the evenings, although the most I needed was a light fleece. A bit of grit was needed to get under the cold water, but once in it felt great, and afterwards, I felt so invigorated! No wonder I slept well!

On my last night we each had a tent on the second floor of a wall-less cabin. I could NOT get comfortable at first. The mattress was thin and the pillow just a small blow-up pad. I dozed for about 20 minutes and then got twitchy. Eventually I wandered downstairs to the bathroom, then lay in the nearby hammock for almost half an hour, wondering if I should spend the night here. But I would have needed a blanket, so eventually I went back upstairs to my tent, and I’m happy I did so as I slept like a log for the rest of the night. I woke a number of times and had to rearrange myself to get back to sleep (shift onto the other side, ensuring the pillow was still wrapped in my t-shirt and clothes, then rearrange my scarf around my shoulders to protect me from the smell and feel of the cheap, polyester blankets) but each time fell deeply asleep again. Nothing like hard physical exercise to ensure good sleeping in a tent on a wooden floor. The sound of the nearby Humo river rushing along no doubt helped.

The last day’s walk was the longest – 25 kms – but the one I most enjoyed. We began with a 13-kilometre steady upward climb on a dirt road, which became more of a track and towards the summit petered out to a trail. The other side was shorter and steeper, and led into a cultivated valley lined with cloud-forest. Being a Saturday, we saw half a dozen mountain bikers. Experienced, obviously, as this was not a route for the faint-hearted.

After a delicious lunch, we walked the last five kilometres to the lodge where my fellow hikers would stay, and I was picked up for the return to San José. Thoughts of continuing on to the Pacific Ocean had crossed my mind several times over the four days, but by the end I was happy to climb into the car.

Would I do the whole route? It takes sixteen days, and I’ve only done four, but yes. I’m already making plans for 2024. Get in touch if you’re interested!

I’m trapped in a tropical paradise and need to get over my need for things to run smoothly, and as planned! This is an excellent exercise in living in the moment, enjoying where I am and who I’m with. Finding joy and satisfaction in the little things. Practise makes perfect, they say, but I don’t easily dial down my need for activity, for exploration and the desire to push myself physically. It’s just who I am. 

I’m at the beach, high up on a friend's finca overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The town of Santa Teresa lies hidden below – a place where we spent a number of Christmases as a family. Oddly enough, that doesn’t cause any emotional angst. It’s hot and dry and idyllic and filled with howler and white-faced monkeys, multitudes of birds and even a pixote (coatimundi) up a papaya tree yesterday, batting at the fruit until one came off, then climbing down incredibly quickly – think fireman on a pole – and scampering, with the fruit I presume, into the undergrowth.

It isn’t often that one gets a full week of relaxation in the company of three girlfriends who have known each other for more than two decades. At least, it isn’t for me although I know many women, and I encourage my girls to start this habit, who arrange annual get-aways with their female friends to ski or paint or cycle or practise yoga. 

Women add so much to the richness and health of my life. One thing I’m learning, or having reinforced, during this year of discovery is that people, community and friendships are what makes the world go around. This week has been such a gift.

Highlights:

A midday plunge in a tide-pool to coincide with Mads’ polar plunge into Lake Michigan last weekend. I suspect I stayed longer in the water than she did!

The birds! 

If I don’t go for an early-morning run along the incredibly dusty roads, I’ll wander with my binoculars at sunrise and be overwhelmed by birds. To list a few that I’ve seen (clockwise from top left): black-headed trogon, squirrel cuckoo, painted bunting, long-tailed manakin, Lesson's motmot, plus I've also seen baltimore orioles, a tropical kingbird, hummingbirds galore and various woodpeckers.
(photos not by me!)

More highlights? Sunsets from the rancho, rocking in the amazing Costa Rican leather rocking chairs with my friends and a cocktail, solving the world’s problems, nattering or just sitting in silence. Magic.

The ease of being with people I’ve known a long time, the simple meals we throw together (think sautéed peppers with onions, olives and capers over pasta, or roasted spiced cauliflower with zucchini and pickled carrot salad, or the minestrone soup that I brought from San José), the laughter and joy. Surprised by joy. I love that expression.