The road to Cristo Rey

this is where many of the kids "work"

Some local housing

Our home base for the week is a nice bunk-house called La Quinta Shalom. They specialize in providing housing and food for missions trips, and they are great hosts. The coffee is always on and they now have WIFI! Our missions mission on this trip is to build four houses for four families in an area near the dump.
Now I use the word house very loosely, because what we are building is an 11×11 concrete pad surrounded by pieces of tin, smaller than my shed. However, they are very humbled and happy to have anything that protects them from the rain better than the current cardboard and plastic bags and other pieces of trash adorning their current abodes.
The drive out to the location is an hour-long,eye-opening trip. The roads are swamped with vehicles, 2,4, and 6 lane highways, motorcycles, buses, crazy cars, and even the occasional horse and cart tramping Down the middle of the road. In amongst the roads are patches of green, and in those patches are families with mattresses and hammocks and the fortunate ones have a black trash bag to cover their heads. And this is just on the way to the dump.

waiting for his new house to be built

me and some of the local Nica girls who were watching the show

It is easy to tell when you are getting close to the dump as the roads , which are already smattered with trash, become more and more covered, until you pass fields that look like crops of colored cotton candy growing alongside the road. As you draw nearer you realize it is just fields of old plastic grocery bags. The neighborhood we were working in was a newly established area covered with minimal shelters, many us Americans would not feel good enough for our pets. Yet not only do they live in them, they are happy and feel fortunate to have them. They are pieced together with wood, tin, plastic and more trash collected from the nearby dump. Any severe wind or rain would render most of them useless.

After initial meetings and being introduced to the local pastor we broke up into two building teams and began to build. Our building plan was as follows: dig post holes, make a wood frame, slap on a tin roof, pour a concrete floor, slap on some tin walls, put in a door and give them the key. There is no key, because there is no lock because there is no door handle. It is a truly sobering and humbling experience to participate in.

Laying the concrete pad, back-breaking work

a kitchen

At lunch time I was fortunate to enjoy the daily lunch service the local church provides to 200 hungry kids. They reported to us that for most of these kids the lunch they provide is their only meal of the day. These people are true missionaries,living amongst those kids and feeding them every single day. The meal begins with a prayer in Spanish and is followed up with multi lingual worship songs while they eat their bowl of rice and fruit. The lunch room is a covered concrete pad adorned with colorful plastic tables and chairs in an attempt to brighten the hot and dusty atmosphere. But the stars of the meals are the kids themselves, ranging from 1-10. They are full of smiles, love to have their picture taken and love to hug you, hold your hand or just touch you. They are kids and they act like kids. But I was brought to tears by these kids. I was moved by the simple pleasure of having a hot meal at an actual table. Moved by the fact that they got to wash their hands. And truly moved to tears as older brothers and sisters, 4,5 or 6 years old spent their lunch time feeding their younger siblings, neglecting themselves. In those kids you could see it in their eyes, the need, the desire to be a kid, taken care of, fed and free to grow. It was those kids for which my spirit wept. They knew, they were not oblivious to the world around them, they knew that they lived among the truly poor in the world, scraping daily for a meal, praying for a way to stop the rain from dripping on their dirt floor, and praying mostly for their family. The burden of life was already written on their tiny tanned, mud streaked face, and it was impossible to hide.

many of the kids have stomach infections which causes bloating.

Although we finished two ” houses” today, heard testimony from both families that they prayed for this miracle, and one even saw a vision of a bunch of gringos coming to help her, despite all this the long bus ride home was a solemn quiet ride home. I couldn’t help but wonder how I could not help more, there is so much need, so much suffering and so much left to do. And as I impatiently waited for my turn in the shower to wash away the stink of the day, it struck me that most of, if not each and every person I saw today would not being taking a shower, and probably had never ever taken a shower. A simple refreshing way to wash away the worries of the day, a pleasure that most people reading this will have experienced with the last 12 hours. I think perhaps today my life was changed. I think perhaps my perspective has forever changed.
Tomorrow we will go and we will build two more houses, tomorrow we will conduct a kids Bible school and then we will come home and we will wash away the stink of the day.
Please take a minute to give thanks for all that you have and please take a minute to pray for those who have not, and pray for us that we may do more than we have set out to do, that we will make an eternal difference in not only our lives but theirs.

a finished house........

a grateful family

praying of the family and their new casa.

Don testing out the bed, and practicing for soccer.

This coffee was stiff,cooked all day, black and awesome, welcoming us to camp.

our small group meeting

Mo happy we got some sheets and showing it!

Morning coffee, Mo, Mike and Dwayne

Pastor Lyle and Mo

The adventure started early, turning a normal 4 hour trip into a 7 hour adventure. The adventure peaked as darkness slid in on us near the end of our drive, accompanied by a thick wet fog. The kind of fog that sparkles and dances off your headlights putting the driver (me) into a trance. This was made even more perilous because we were venturing up a thin road unknown to all of us, a tiny windy road up the side of a mountain. At least we assumed it was a mountain because I couldn’t see past the side of the road. To make it even more adventurous, we were following a giant bus, who had to stop each time an oversized semi truck meet them in the road to ensure that neither would sustain fatal damage. Although we were slightly encouraged by the ” Viajamos con Dios” written on the back of the bus. Our average speed during this portion of the journey, about 10 km per hour. Doesn’t sound scary,but when you consider speeding semis, being passed on blind corners by motorcycles, scooters and cars, and the constant peril of hitting a cow or sliding of the edge of the mountain, I think I forgot to breathe for about and hour and a half.

Mike and Mike enjoying the morning view as the fog begins to lift.

The view as the fog clears.

Breakfast

Lyle and Dwayne dominating the archery tent

I gave a good effort, at least.

Finally after one wrong turn, several scary switchbacks we pulled into what we believed was our destination, Camp La Montana. The bus we followed, pulled into the same location. A group of twenty men all arrived at the same time to check into the camp.

Dwayne with arrow in flight

The lake area

rider in the sky

outdoor theater near the lake

Upon arrival we scurried off to find a room. We found two rooms upstairs right across from each other, perfect for our group of eight. The rooms had two bunk buds, and two lower beds adorned with the thinnest foam mattresses available in all of Costa Rica. Also staring us in the face was the fact that there were no sheets or no towels in the room, and no one in our party had bothered to bring any of the aforementioned.  A detail that apparently escaped all eight of us. Next time when they tell us to check the website, I will check the website. But in this case the adventure continued.

don't know, but it was big

flora

more flora

on my way to the top! Looks like the pants are about to split.

After a dinner, which included beans and rice, some kind of meat and something else, we had some worship music, a message and met in small groups. The theme of the adventure was hearing God’s voice. Our small group, the only group from Guanacaste met outside in the evening fog. We were adorned in our shorts and t-shirts, and to a man we were chilled. Sure it was probably 65 degrees our there, but when you live in 90 temperatures, a wet 65 can be a little frigid.

disco ball in the gym, now that's what I am talking about

John and Don on a hike

Why do I always have to be on skins?

Don participating in the soccer match.

Upon retreating to our rooms, and completely exhausted from a nearly 8 hour trip, we thought sleep would be easy. We were fortunate that they were able to dig up fitted sheets for us to use as bedding, and a couple of pillows. Although damp, they were welcomed.

Lyle in action

If I hurry I can kick the ball once!

Mo looks mad, and dangerous. Note Angelo in the back, I think he was a little winded.

Looks like the world cup

Lyle getting jiggy with it.

Dude, are we done yet?

Sleep, at least for me, was intermittent and fitful at best. Every move made on the mattress echoed throughout our room, and the rough cut lumber lining my top bunk kept digging into my back and hip, leading to many adjustments throughout the night. Looking forward to a hot shower to kick-start the day, I was surprised to find that unlike the water in our area region of Costa Rica, the water actually gets cold, very cold here in the mountains. The best part, there was not a lick of hot water to be had. There was a handle for hot water, but no hot water. So my shower was very cold, exhilarating and quick.

View from the field

Mo and John

That day included three more meetings intertwined with some basketball, frisbee, hiking, water slides, water swings, archery and a two-hour epic soccer battle on a field pitted with ankle busting holes. Adventure sprinkled with danger, everything a man could want.

Glenn and John

Dwayne, Lyle and Mike & Mike getting ready to hear the word.

There were a few minor injuries, a lot of sore muscles and more sweat than an episode of The Biggest Loser. The good news is by this time the hot water was working and the spittle that dripped out of the shower had at least blasts of heat.

More flora

Mo and Lyle discussing the days message.

The meetings were great and effective. We got to do a lot of soul-searching, deep conversation and learning helping us all to grow. The meals were an adventure, to keep with theme of course. There was always rice and/ or beans with every single meal. Then a meat product and something else. I say meat product because at least two times we were unable to identify what we were eating. But what’s an adventure without a little mystery. We did not go hungry.

Ben our young worship leader

Sleep was certain for night two, especially after the lack the night prior and the two-hour soccer game. Sleep I did, for about an hour, and then it was back to toss and turn throughout the night, even though I moved my mattress to the ground. The last day began with breakfast, some praise and worship, a short message and testimonies given by attendees sharing what they got out of the conference. The ride home was in the daylight and other than me cutting off a guy in an intersection in San Ramon, and being pulled over for no reason other than to be extorted, it was peaceful. In fact we turned the 7.5 hour trip into a 4 hour trip, and that included a stop for ice cream and gas, and a friendly conversation with a local police officer, and I use that term loosely.

Even had a visit from a coati.

Where's Waldo?

In reflection, perhaps the trip revealed to us that no matter our surroundings, no matter the circumstances or how uncomfortable we are, we can and should always seek out to hear God’s voice. To understand what he is telling us and where he is guiding us. After all, Paul, in Acts, lived in a world of discomfort, adventure and peril and was perhaps the most effective messenger of Jesus of all time. So perhaps it is good for us to have adventure or suffer at times to bring us back into the world of others that suffer daily and still maintain their faith in the midst of it all, and as a result bring us a little closer to him and increase our ability to hear his voice. Which can call out even in the midst of the night and over the din of the mysterious mountainous snorer in your room. Would  I do it again? In a heartbeat!

Each and every town has fiesta at least once a year. It is the local culture. When the bull ring starts being erected from scratch with lumber that looks as if it was found on the side of the road, you know it is coming. It takes about a week to erect it, but it is always finished on time. Once the ring is up, the party starts, and they know how to party.

Jeremy, Braden and Dorian waiting for their turn in the bouncy castle.

The ride section

That blur is Olivia, Ben and Faith.

Go ahead and stand up during the ride little girl. It adds to the excitement.

The music is ear bleeding loud. The food is heart clogging good. The vendors are in your face with their trinkets. The rides, well the rides are the rejects, the ones deemed unsafe in the states, and they are fired up and rolling. But the highlight is the bull ring. Every night there is an event in the bull ring, and every night it is a spectacle.

In Costa Rica we call this driver's ed.

These boys did not know what they were getting into when they agreed to ride with Olivia.

I can see regret on their face. Note Olivia is the only one doing the spinning.

The sounds, the smells, the scenery, they all scream party. They beg you to dance, call for you to eat and to eat badly, and summon you to cheer on the bulls. There is the obligatory beer tent, or two, or three, just in case any false courage is needed. And there always at least three different DJ’s blasting out latin, hip swinging, head bobbing dance music, with competing throbbing beats, throughout the night.

Jake and Luke spinning as hard and as fast as they can.

Kassie and Faith following the boys.

As soon as the rides opened, the kids were ready to roll. At the Villa Real festival there were four larger rides, including a mini coaster, bumper cars, a spinning puking twisting thing, and an air spinner. The great thing is there are no lines, because on one waits in line, you just push forward, walk on, get on, and ride if you dare. The rides look like they are about two levels of safety below the typical backyard fair in the states. There are no safety fences, no chains or gates’; in fact to get into the bumper cars you have to literally run through the whirling bumper cars to get to your car and join in the fun. It adds a slight level of intensity. You can also high-five your friends on the air rides as they fly by you at mach 7, or let your little kids go ahead and stand during the kiddy airplane ride, or coaster ride, as we witnessed. So even though the ride itself may not be that intense, the freedom within adds unspeakable levels of intensity.

Don't let their sweet innocent looks fool you, these two were vicious in the bumper ring.

trinkets.

The big ride in action.

The food, it is fried, it is local, it smells good and it tastes good. There is lots of rice, lots of meat on sticks and a local favorite, the double fried chicken. Yep, the fried chicken sits under a heat lamp until you order. Then, to make sure it is hot and fresh for you, they fry it again. So you get a built-in drink with your chicken. We stuck to some churros and donuts with a touch of caramello.

Meat on a stick. Not sure what kind, but it smelled good.

An up and comer.

Homemade ramp to the homemade ring.

Dorian, Ben and Livy on the fence, Braden and Jeremy inside the ring. That's about right.

But the highlight is the rickety wooden ring of which the festival surrounds. Therein lies the loudest music, therein is the loudest announcer, and there is where the crowd gathers. Some unwilling to shell out 2000 colones for a wooden bleacher seat, bring their own chairs and set up station right outside the ring, peering through the wooden planks. Others climb on top of the fence posts, and some set up camp under the bleachers. Us tourists, the non-locals, well we shell out the money so we can sit in comfort and with a view. Exactly what were we viewing?

The bulls came out with a rider, and went back in without one.

This guy was especially mean. You can see he was intentional, thoughtful and brutal. Note the kids peering through the fence.

A bull ring littered with drunk college spring breakers, drunk young locals and a couple of skilled vaqueros on their horses, armed with rope and lasso. There were about 25 young brave men in the ring ready to run from, at, and with the bulls. The bulls were big, the bulls were mean, and the bulls were fast. The worked quickly to get the young rider off their back so they could set their horns on the young sunburned drunks in their flip-flops. And just as I turned to tell my wife how I was rooting for the bull amongst the bravado appearing in the ring, two familiar faces appeared, Jeremy and Braden. So now there were 25 drunks and Jeremy and Braden. They too wanted to feel the horns of the bull up close. Perhaps even more intense, the wrath of mom when she found out they were in the ring.

Braden ready to catapult out, Jeremy with hands in pocket.

This college spring breaker was asking for it all night long.......

And he got a little taste.

But alas, the boys maintaining a full state of  soberness stayed close to the fence, leaping up in a single bound at the inclination of an angry bull approaching. They moved swiftly and unlike several Ticos, never had to dive for cover. There were several falls, lots of fence jumping and even some dives as the bulls charged, parried and spun throughout the dirt covered rung. The false bravado was amazing, the close calls followed by high fives, hugs and another beer. As far as live entertainment goes, and for the price, it is pretty hard to beat.

SCATTER!

Prophetic?

The main attraction......

...even for the medics

On a steel horse they ride.

It was a good night, and once it was over it was to comprehend why the fiestas were the most anticipated event of the year. They had a touch of Americana, the cheap trinkets, candied apples, cotton candy and mechanical rides. They had culture with the food and the historical bull ring, as this country was founded and settled by cowboys, or vaqueros. But most of all they have a place to get together, even if just for a weekend. A reason to come out of their small home as a family and gather with friends, enjoy their culture, eat, dance, drink, and just forget about the worries of the day for a couple of nights. Forget about the heat and the hard life, and just enjoy. But most of all they gather praying together that at least one of those drunk college tourist’s back ends meets the front end of a bull. For then they will have a story to share for all time.

A little video shot with my iphone so you can soak up some of the action and sounds.

The fresh salt water drowned out by the smoke.

Reminds me a little of a war zone.

At night the burning red-hot spots glow brightly, some close some a distance away marking empty fields. The distant hills have beautiful rivers of fire flowing up and down their faces, remanent of a fresh purge of lava from a young volcano. The smoke is invisible. The fire is beautiful mesmerizing me much like a youngster at a campfire. Burned out stumps, trees spotted with red glows, fields glowing, and wind gusts creating dancing, crackling sparks across the dark night sky a slowly moving glow. It causes a desire in me to greatly improve my photography skills so that I may share what I see.

I did not have a tripod, so I did the best I could to capture the glow spurned on by the wind.

A glowing stump.

Same stump with flash.

One tree dies, the other lives.

Charred remains of the hilltop.

A field near our home along side the road. Many wooden posts died this die.

In the morning it leaves behind a matted black field and hillside, wounded smoldering trees, not dead, but wounded as soldiers slowly walking across a battlefield and a blanket of white and black ash. There are no personnel fighting the fire, no helicopters, police barriers, fire trucks, news cameras, it is just a normal day. Perhaps they don’t have the man power or the budget, or perhaps they don’t care, it is part of nature, part of life, a purge, perhaps it is Pura Vida. Whatever it is, it is now a part of the yearly cycle of our life. Next year, I will have a tripod!

Traveling view of Lake Arenal.

Well the same thing applies here in Costa Rica. With mom and grandma visiting we figured it was a great time to head to Arenal, one of the local active volcanos in Costa Rica. We loaded up the 12 seater with 11 bodies, and a bundle of bags and took off in hopes of catching a glimpse of the  molten red lava spewing into the night sky.

Now Costa Rica is know for its diversiveness, and we live in the dry region famous for great beaches. We were headed towards the rain forest and jungles. The drive is about 4 hours and I like to divide it into three sections. The first section I would call the highway, from here to Liberia and a little beyond. The roads are well traveled, pretty straight and blast through small town after small town. The second section takes you into the hills where the winds await. There are sparse trees, wind farms, and a giant lake littered with wind surfers and their neon colored kites speckling the white capped lake. From inside the car, it looks cold, very cold. It reminds me of a lonesome bay in Alaska on cold blustery summer day. In reality, it is about 80 degrees out, and the wind, 20-25 mph, is a welcomed coolant.

Watching fish.

Once pass the sparse hills we enter the jungle, clouds appear, fog is present and the edge of the road disappears into the vivd green dripping jungle. There are a myriad of one lane bridges, rivers and eroding, albeit paved, roads along the way. The temperature is significantly cooler and the air becomes heavy with moisture. It is af you are driving into Jurrassic Park.

Contrary to what you may think, we are not making that bridge sag.

Four hours into our expedition we arrived at our destination, Los Lagos, a hotel / resort known for its spa and hot springs. But it had much more than we anticipated, a small butterfly farm, a frog farm, a crocodile farm and it was nestled right on the shoulder of the active Arenal volcano. It was very lush, very green well kept and catered towards tourists:us. It was perfect for this party of 11. For the kids it had three fast water slides, for the adults 7 different hot springs, pools and a spa.

At least one of them found the camera lens.

Grandma kept getting in trouble for not paying attention. The best part, she never knew it.

Happy, sad, scared, nervous? Not sure, perhaps a mix.

During our two day tour we decided to take advantage of some of the must do activites. We decided on the Ecoglide canopy / zip line tour, horseback riding for some, and a hike to the La Fortuna waterfall. In between all this we would soak our weary bodies in the hot springs and sip virgin pina colados served out of pineapples, can’t get much touristier than that.

Our Tico coffee at our new favorite place to eat in La Fortuna, La Choza. If you visit, you must eat there.

The zip line was the highlight for most. It consisted of 15 different zip lines at varying lengths, heights and speeds. All fantastically fun and exhiliariting. But what really set it over the top was the Tarzan swing perilously awaiting you in the middle of of the tour. Of course I was offered up as the sacrificial Tarzan to go first. As I eased forward onto the shaky mesh metal platform hanging over what felt like the abyss, they strapped me in the never explaining what was about to occur. The guides hooked two thin, weary looking and frayed white lines into my harness. They tugged, tightened and pulled me right next to a gate overlooking a 1000 foot drop ( at least it looked that far) and told me to press up against the gate. At this point I thought they would explain what was going to happen, instead “click” the gate was open. “Wait what is going on” I stammered, “relax, just sit” and I as bent my knees to sit I began free falling to the earth below. My intestines just about flew out of my mouth as I began screaming “NO, NO, NO”. It felt as if the two puny ropes had failed and I was going to be a ball of mush on the side of a mountain. But then the lines gently grabbed hold and began rocketing me straight up to the sky, inches away from the canopy above, and I began swinging, like Tarzan, back and forth, inches away from tree trunks. It was scary, it was exhiliarting and it was fun. The best part was watching those who went after me, knowing what they were going through, but also knowing they had the advantage of knowing what was going to happen. I must acknowledge those who took the leap, Tracy, Dorian, Alli, Jeremy, Olivia, and Grandma. Yes my 83 year old grandma took the leap screaming ‘WHEEEEE!! You’re going to miss out” Much like the Geico pig. She loved it. Mom, well she got strapped in, stepped up to the gate, and then couldn’t go through with it. But she got close.

Can you see the toucan? I can.

After the two hour tour, we rushed a group to the horse riding tour while the rest of us elected to rest our weary bodies in the hot springs. I hear the horseback tour was awesome, but I did not go as I prefered not to have saddle sores for the remainder of our stay. Besides, the last time I did the tour it ended up being a little more adventurous than I bargained for. They however loved it, especially my wife who got to ride her favorite kind of horse.

Returning to the stables after a month long cow herd.

After an excellent, gigando dinner at La Choza in La Fortuna, the next morning, we headed out for our hike to the waterfall in La Fortuna. The hike was down the side of a mountian on steps made of perforated concrete which allowed the massive vegetation to grow through and around it, almost engulfing it as part of the earth. I am not sure how many steps there were, I stopped counting after one trillion, but at least they were of varying heights angles and depths to keep it interesting. The trip down was worth the view, the trip up was tenuous. Next time we are packing a lunch and our swimming trunks and enjoying the view for a while.

Is that Bear Gryls?

Although we did not get to see any lava, or even the very top of the the volcano, it was a weekend to be remembered, a great way to spend the last one before school starts up again. We got to see a lot of critters; the infamous coati begging on the side of the road,monkeys chilling and posing, toucans, iguanas, butterflies, crocodiles, frogs and even a sloth. I am extremely proud of grandma as she did each an every adventure set before her, living life to the fullest. But most of all I am proud of her for surviving three days and two nights without her facebook. That my friends was a real challenge!

This is about as much of the volcano as we ever saw.

Here is a short video compilation of our weekend for you to enjoy. Until our next adventure, I need some sleep.

Jake digging into one of the far too many desserts we ate. Thanks Mom & Grandma!

Pausing at the Florida Mall for a picture.

Day one, shop, pick up Mom and Grandma from the airport.

Day two, eat, shop, eat, shop, get home exhausted.

Day three, eat, shop, eat, shop, movie, drive, shop, eat. Get home exhausted.

Day four, eat, eat, shop, shop, drive, look for specific presents, drive, keep looking, drive, pass out from exhaustion.

Kassie, Jake and snakes.

Exhausted shoppers. Note the long sleeve shirts.

Mall scenes

Day five, drive 3 hours to West Palm Beach to visit Dorian’s potential college, take an 1 1/2 hour tour, eat, drive 3 hours home, go to a movie, maybe catch a nap during the flick in a very loud Imax theater, eat and sleep.

Dorian's welcome to Palm Beach Atlantic University.

University views.

The view from the street side dorms.

The chapel.

Inside the chapel.

The library, it was very impressive.

Library

Day Six, last-minute shopping, all that stuff we forgot, drive like crazy to find it with minimal success. Shop, check mom and grandma into a hotel near the airport, go to dinner at Downtown Disney, a super hectic place, lose Olivia, find Olivia, get back at the house to pack about 4 hours behind schedule.

I think he is giving Alli the cold shoulder.

The Millenia Mall doing its best to get us in the spending spirit.

Another mall another picture.

Like father like son.

Day seven, get up early, drop off rental car, get to airport 2.5 hours early so that 9 people and 12 bags can get checked in, which is a blog in and of itself, fly 2.5 hours to CR, drive 4.5 hours back to Flamingo in the dark, open door, breathe.

Livy and Jake taking a break.

Day eight, sleep, and surf, back home.

It is funny, but as soon as we hit the front door of our house, or even the street in front of our house Tracy and I both breathe a huge sigh of relief. We are home, it is familiar, it is relaxing and busy, but  it is where we are now living our life. America is great, it is convenient, it is busy, bustling, big and beautiful, but it wears us out. We got a lot done, visited Dorian’s potential college Palm Beach Atlantic, bought a lot of Christmas Presents, sent a ton of mail, lost Olivia at Downtown Disney, and found Olivia at Downtown Disney and ate at a dozen different restaurants. But I feel tense the whole time I am there, like I am not moving fast enough, like I have too many places to eat, too many things to do, too many choices to make. Once I get here my choices are the pool, the beach or stay home. It is simple, it is slow, it is nice and we like it. And as we walked in the door and realized that daddy forgot to pay the bills so our internet and phones were shut off, we smiled relaxed and said Pura Vida.

Some major log moving going onLet's not move this one, it's too comfy.

I knew this was the only turtle we would see on this day.

We walked and walked and walked. We saw signs of turtles, drag marks, egg pieces and even a big old dead turtle. But no baby turtles and certainly no big momma turtles. After trudging for what seemed like miles in the black gritty sand, our guide finally spoke and asked us to help clean up the driftwood so the turtles would have more nesting room. So not only did we have to pay to see nothing and pick up trash, we had a good 1/2 hour of hard labor.  We had resigned to our fate that we had just paid $8 per person to clean up trash, move driftwood, walk in the rain, and do things we could do every day in Guanacaste for free. Perhaps we could find turtles on the other side of the beach. I was clearly not hopeful. For after conversing with several of the turtle attendees who had attended several turtle coming outs in the past, the best time to come was very early in the morning, or at night, not 9 am. As I walked back along the surf lane allowing my feet to be washed off by the ever beating surf, I noticed a small portion of our group gathering up the beach a little. I altered course . As I walked into the small circle I heard cameras clicking, oohs and aahs, and saw some pretty big smiles. There were several baby turtles emerging from beach!

We see turtles emerging from the eggs buried in the depth of the black sands.

It was amazing to watch, first about six turtles, then 15, 20, 40, 60, 64 at final count. It was like a clown car at a circus, they just kept coming and coming directly out of the black sand. Slowly moving, covered in dirt trying to find their way. A few knew right where to go, others wandered off to the left or the right, but eventually they all seemed to at least point to surf. Maybe not directly, but at least at an angle that would get them there. The journey ahead of them was long and arduous, for they were about the size of a silver dollar, and about 1/3 the weight. Every footprint, stick or pebble presented an obstacle. A few got flipped over, some got stuck, some had to alter course completely, but all were determined to make it to their destination. It was then that I realized we were the turtles. We had a long and arduous journey, we had to alter course, we had to climb up and down the footprints left by nature, but we were determined to make it to our destination. The only difference, the baby turtles got stronger with every flip of their flippers, and we got a little weaker with every pothole.

Finding their way.

guess what I have!

At least now the journey to the surf had been worth it. We had seen what very few had ever witnessed. The sheer determination and pure beauty of God’s creation. The instinctive drive to survive no matter how hard. Events like these always affirm my belief in a creator. It seems incredulous to me to believe something so perfect as the circle of life could ever happen by accident. If you ever take a quiet moment to think about the true miracle of life, both in humans and creatures, of flora and fauna, it seems impossible to me to come to any conclusion other than the conclusion that it is planned. All of it. Each and every morsel. And nothing will affirm my faith in that more than seeing it in action with my own two eyes.

For many more pictures, video, and commentary enjoy our following two minute documentary.

P.S. On the way in I related a story about a teenager leading us on a false shortcut. On the way home we let a teenager lead us to the best Pizza place in all of Costa Rica. “The road is a little sketchy” he warned, but that pizza is good. When a road is barely passable by bicycle, covered in spider webs, and drops down 100 feet a time; that my friends is not the sign of good pizza place. This trail made the previous trail look like the Autobahn. It was steep, tiny, overgrown, full of fissures, gorges and gashes, muddy, slick and deadly. In short, it was scary. However once we turned down, there was no turning back. What we wouldn’t do for great pizza. How was the pizza? We will never know, it was closed for the season. Needless to say, those of us driving were not too happy with our teenage connoisseur. If you want directions I will give them freely, however be aware because there may be a former Gold Coast teenager roaming the roads chanting, ” the road is sketchy, but the pizza is good, the road is sketchy, but the pizza is good!”

Our chariot awaits

Nary 20 minutes out of Tamarindo we spotted some humpback whales, a calf and her momma and we veered course to ride next to them. They put on a nice show for all of us, breaching, spewing and generally delighting all those on board before swimming off into the deep. Immediately after getting back on course we were greeted by some dolphins who playfully glided by each hull on the 60 foot catamaran. Right along side of them was a small manta ray sunning his wingtips. Soon after that we sailed upon some Leatherback turtles having an intimate moment. They seemed slightly irritated as we slid by them 10 feet away. In between all this were fish jumping, snakes swimming, and the wind and sea slapping gently against the hulls of the boat. On board, kids and adults were laughing in glee with every new sighting.

Thar she blows! Whale watchers moving over the the starboard side.

Once we reached our destination, a private beach, the anchor was dropped and everyone hit the water with snorkels, noodles or life jackets. The water was not the clearest, but it was clear enough to see the plethora of colorful fish and sea life along the reef. I don’t know what kind of fish I saw but I do know that they were neon blue, yellow, rainbow-colored, small, large, fast slow and all curious. The beach itself was empty except for those of us from the boat, so it was ripe for a walk or a little beach combing. It was a small dark beach sheltered by small cliffs on each side, making the bay it hosted nearly glass calm. No surf to speak of, but great for some swimming and snorkeling.

Jeremy and Octavia checking on the anchor.

The day finished with some food, singing and a typical Costa Rica sunset, the money shot. However, they always seem to be a little more impressive from the water. Something about being able to look back onto the beach having the same view the sun has makes it slightly more breathtaking. Cameras were smoking as their shutters flashed, and there was a slight quietness and stillness that enveloped the whole vessel as we waited for that magical moment when the sun disappeared over the edge of the world. We were not disappointed, as we never are. And as we were shuttled back to the beach in the 20 foot fiberglass, white open skiff, which got us close enough to wade back to the beach in the warm Pacific water, I realized that this was November, and we had just all been kissed by a touch of sunburn. I also realized that our reality had changed from shoveling snow, driving on icy roads and trying to keep my bald head warm, to trying to stay cool, dealing with jellyfish stings, and trying to make sure my bald head doesn’t burn. It is a change, but we are doing our best to cope.

P.S. There are so many pictures that I just put them in slideshow below for you to enjoy.

Perhaps a little bit of a brand translation fail? Yummy bread though.

For instance, bagged ketchup? Yep, you can buy ketchup in a bag. Not just ketchup, but mayo mustard, beans, pretty much anything that comes in a liquid or semi-liquid form is sold in a branded six-inch sturdy foil bag, like a giant Capri Sun bag. They are in every store and nearly every aisle; Even cleaning solutions, clorox, windex, soap…. bags. Now I haven’t exhausted every resource, but I have asked a lot of people and no one has been able to tell me why. I have heard they are easier to stack, last longer, more econ friendly etc. All theories, all plausible, but odd none-the-less.

Ben showing us the Mayo and mustard bag section.

rows and rows of bagged / pouched stuff.

Pouched honey

Not sure if this is oil, lard or grease, but I know it is bagged, and Jeremy wants some.

Vanna showing us bags of cleaning "stuff". Liquid, powder, solid doesn't matter, it is bagged.

Hot dogs, and American staple and a Godfrey staple. they are good for breakfast lunch or dinner. I know what you are thinking, they do not come in bags. Well, not exactly anyway. They come in wrappers. When you grab a pack of dogs at the store, they look just like any pack you would buy back home. However, they are made from many different things here, most commonly chicken. So you need to learn a few words to grab the right kind. But when you cut the pack open, you quickly see that each and every dog is individually wrapped with a thin layer of??? It is like a Saran wrap, a very thin tinted Saran wrap. I have yet to get an answer as to why or if you are to unwrap before cooking, cook with wrapping on, eat wrapping or discard wrapping. Again, odd.

look closely and you can see lurking beneath the package the slightly pink wrappers engulfing each individual hot dog.

Is it just me or does this just not feel like spanish?

Eggs, another Godfrey staple. We could have 50 chickens laying eggs in our back yards and that probably wouldn’t be enough for our family. We buy a lot of eggs. In the markets here the eggs come in containers of 4, 6, 12 , 36. They are brown, their shells are thicker and the eggs are not all the same size or color. They are not individually stamped, they look more like someone just picked them up form one of the millions of chickens you see running around all over the place. Also, they are never not once refrigerated in the store. Not in the upscale stores with air conditioning, or the local 95 degree stores. Eggs do not go in the refrigerator. They are usually at the end of an aisle stacked 6 feet high. We try to get the bottom of the stack of course, they are slightly fresher. Another oddity, or eggstentialism if you will.

The nicest egg section this side of San Jose. Usually they sit on the floor or on a metal rack.

You can see the bread lady at the bread counter. If you get a bread or pastry and try to walk by without her bagging & tagging your bread, well then you are taking your own life in your hands.

They are serious about their bread here, rightfully so. It is good bread.

Further, there are an abundance of employees in every store. For instance in our local Auto Mercado there is a stock boy for every aisle, and they are always adjusting, dusting rearranging or doing something in the aisles. There seems to always be at least one of them in the aisle if not three or four. There are usually 3-4 security guards patrolling the store, and apparently they have been trained to keep an eye on goateed bald guys. But I find a smile and a “buenas” puts them at ease. Most every store has a meat counter where you get your meat, and three employees behind it. Oh, and you order in kilograms. That’s always fun, especially the first time you ask for 4 kilos of molida (ground beef) and the guys eyes almost bug out of his head. Often times in the vegetable or fruit section there is a guy there just to weigh your fruit and mark it for you. If you try to leave there without getting it weighed and marked, he will chase you down.  There is another one in the bakery section to bag, box and mark your doughnut. Around every corner there is someone doing something, or doing nothing as the case me be. In almost every instance there are more employees than patrons in the store at any given moment. The day I took these pictures, in the nicest mercado this side of San Jose, I counted at least 25 employees and about a dozen shoppers.

It seems that Tony the Tiger is quite a bit meaner in Latin America. Perhaps it is the heat.

So not only are we learning to adjust to the new money, the new language, the new food, we also have to relearn the metric system, how to shop for food and how to purchase it properly. It is a daily adventure, and sometimes struggle. But I have learned a couple of things over the last 4 months; Squeezing your condiments onto an unwrapped hot dog, near nirvana. And you haven’t lived until you have made your kid’s PB&J by squeezing your grape Smuckers from a pouch.