Another action packed weekend. Friday night involved a big party at Oskar’s (one of the two bars in Ciudad Colon). My liver’s mortal enemy appeared to have negotiated a two-for one vodka deal which my weak-will just couldn’t control. This was also supplemented to the fact that I was trying to talk in my bad-drunken Spanish to a Costa-Rican boy who in my tipsy state looked like Diego Luna. (Those who have seen me try and talk to boys in bars know I drink unnecessarily copious amounts- last time footwear got lost, clubs got burnt. I just shouldn't talk to boys in bars). Anyway ended up dancing some merengue and either my swing dance lessons or the vodka meant now it seems I’m not as bad as being led as before- I don’t think I broke a single toe (mine or anyone elses).
The next morning the alarm went off at 5.30am and still a bit tipsy I grabbed my stuff and headed off for a trip across the country to Tortuguero a tiny town on the Caribbean coast. Took a bus to San Jose, a taxi, another bus to Cairari (in which the old man next to me told me I wasn’t allowed to sleep anymore but had to talk to him, and later made sure I took his number?!). Managed to buy some individually wrapped aspirin at the bus stop which felt like the lamest drug deal ever (I ahave just started watching The Wire series 2- it is influencing my brain. Next was a mini-bus (over the bumpiest road and through banana plantations) and soon we were sat on a long-thin motor boat ready for the hour boatride into the jungle to the town. Sat there in the middle of this beautiful river, surrounded by banks of lush jungle, with the waves gently lapping on the side of the boat I’ve never felt so disgustingly hungover, it was all I could do to not just totally chunder everywaaar, I had been out on the lash the night before, banter (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKFjWR7X5dU)
We arrived into the town (stomach contents included) and realized the only path to the town-centre was via a tiny, precarious pathway over the water made of rusty metal bars and unattached lengths of wood. The combination of shaky sea-legs and shaky hangover very nearly ended in a spectacular dive. Fortunately we managed to find a hostel without drowning and went for burritos to get some strength back. Spent the afternoon on the black-sand beach chilling out and being befriended by the many many friendly local dogs.
Tortuguero is an amazing place- just like something out of A Hundred Years of Solitude especially when all the frogs came out at night. It was filled with cute children and even cuter puppies, they only needed to make the houses out of gingerbread and I may never have left. There are no cars and the only way to get around is by boat. Once side is beach and the other is river and jungle. It is so humid and warm and has a real Caribbean vibe.
That evening we took a boat trip out to the National Park (driven by our tour guide Ruben’s 8 year old son… he’d be driving boats since he was 4!) Ruben led us to the pitch black beach and suddenly pointed out into the darkness. “Look there, a tutle. Do you see?” I strained my eyes trying to make sense of the darkness but dishearteningly couldn’t see anything, just then Ruben turned on his red headlight and there in front of us was the HUGE turtle (the size of a respectable coffee-table). It was the most incredible moment. We followed the turtle as she made her way down to the sea where her mate was waiting in the water. The tide rushed in and she was gone, leaving her eggs buried somewhere on the beach behind us.
Ruben wandered off and then beckoned us over again. There below us another huge turtle had dug a hole and was popping out ping-pong ball shaped eggs like she was in some seedy Thai bar. She had laid about 10 when she scooped her hind-legs in and pulled them out crushing them on the side. Ruben said in 24 years studying turtles he’d never seen one do that- this one must be a ‘loca’. She laid about 100 more then started to pile sand over the top- violently spraying me with a face full of sand in the process and teaching me a valuable lesson about the recommended proximity of one’s face to a turtle’s butt.
Got home wet, covered in sand and turtle yolk but immensely happy.
Next morning alarms went at 5.50am (how am I still alive?!) and we headed out on a 3 hour open canoe tour. Ruben was our guide again and turned out to have phenomenally good eyesight! He kept saying ‘look over there an iguana’ and would point to a load of trees 100m away- we’d sail over and once we were about 2m away suddenly saw what he was talking about. He said that if I stuck around he’d teach me everything he knows about the jungle- I am seriously tempted to go back and take him up on the offer!
We (eventually) saw lots of iguanas, little baby caimans (which Ruben splashed with water to make them sit up in the water- pissing off crocodiles, even if they are the size of a small ikea-lamp, doesn’t seem that sensible an idea to me), chameleons (after much pointing and explaining what we were meant to be looking at), birds and those lizards that run on water who treated us to a display. Out of no-where we heard an almighty crash from around the river bend and Ruben was shaking with laughter- when he caught his breath he explained it had been from a monkey that had fallen in the river- gutted we missed that! We saw a spider monkey and a howler monkey but they were up high and not moving about much (Ruben said they’d probably smoked something)- but later on the bus ride home I was day-dreaming out the window and saw another spider monkey running in the trees.
I realized at one point whenever Ruben would catch a spider or frog and hold it out I was always the one to put my hands out to hold it without first asking if it was poisonous or would bite me. The silliness of this only hit me after I’d be holding a tiny red frog for a while when Ruben announced that it was a poison-dart frog, the Indians use the venom in dart-pipes to hunt. Fortunately Ruben reassured me the only way it’d kill me was if I ate too many off them- just a well he warned me really. Tried to thank him but it's hard with your mouth full.
We learnt about the different trees but mainly which ones were good to play as musical instruments- one has flat board like roots which you can play like a drum, another’s leaves make good whistles. Basically for a while it turned into the Jungle Book and we jammed out on the forest.
Got the canoe back to the town, said goodbye to a little puppy which I have fallen head over heads in love with (I named him Nacho) and headed back on the long journey back to Ciudad Colon. The boat cut out on the way back and it looked like we were going to have to swim for it but made it home finally in one piece.
Lessons learnt:
Household furniture is an effective yardstick for measuring wildlife. Yardsticks might be simpler though.
Weirdly, incredibly long journeys involving boats, buses and taxis are not the wonder-cure for hangovers. Back to the blurry drawing board.
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