Joyce and I had the most wonderful experience today! We learned about a Lao organization called Big Brother Mouse (Ai Nu Noi in Lao) that writes and publishes books in Lao and English (and occasionally Hmong and Khmu) and gives them to Lao children. Their info said that most Lao kids have never owned a book (!!!) and that they don’t know that reading can be fun. They’re trying to change this, by selling books, giving them to kids and by encouraging tourists to take books to rural villages. We thought that this was a great mission, so we bought some of their books and took them on our trek in Laos (more about that later). They were a big hit in the village where we stayed, and that spurred us on.

Big Brother Mouse goes out to rural schools and has book parties, where they play games with the kids, and then give them each a book, and leave lots more books, so the kids can swap their book for another. We loved this idea, so we decided to sponsor a book party ourselves. We went to the Luang Prabang office, and set it up in no time; it was easy. It was only $250, but to put that into perspective, a whole year’s college education costs $60! Yup, our book party could have paid for someone’s entire college education! Nuts, huh? Makes you appreciate just quite how much we have.

Anyhow, we woke up this morning at 6:00am, to get ready and meet The Mouse (as we’ve taken to calling the organization). Around 7:00am, Joyce, a Canadian journalist who was writing a story about Lao NGOs, four Mouse staff members and I all got into the van and headed off to the village of Hua Kang, about an hour’s drive away. Lao roads, and driving, for that matter, are an experience unto themselves, and the best strategy is just not to look. (This, we’ve found, is true in more places around the world than not.)

We passed several small villages, all of which basically look the same: houses on stilts, to avoid flood damage and create a shady place to sit; half-clothed children wandering all around; dogs EVERYWHERE; and lots of women carrying things to and fro. (Where are the men? Really, what are they doing all the time while the women are working?)

Hua Kang is a bit bigger, but its main differentiating features were the monks wandering about, in their bright orange robes, and the elementary school. This was  nice school, for Laos, new and well constructed. (Probably the best constructed building in town, in fact.) We all piled out of the van, and unloaded, and then the onslaught began.

As soon as the children (There were about fifty of them, in an older and a younger classroom.) saw us, the excitement in the air was tangible. The first thing we did (Well, Joyce and I actually didn’t do it; we don’t speak Lao.) was call out all of the kids, and play some games. That just got them even more excited. Then, we went back inside and drew some pictures. The excitement level lowered slightly, but only slightly. Then, shooting the excitement level through the roof, we played “The Tooth Decay Game,” which is tag, but with three-legged race teams playing. It’s crazy! And, unfortunately for “The Teeth,” the two boys playing germs always won. Where’s toothpase when you need him?

Next came snack, an inveterate favorite with children. And then, as the icing on the cake, came story time. Now, we had no idea what the guy (Sone) telling the story was saying, but he was so good at it, that it didn’t matter at all. We were laughing away with the kids, who thought that our presence was almost as funny as “The hungry giant and the goat,” as we learned one of the stories was called. (You can imagine what the theme of it was.)

And then, the coup de grace. Each classroom lined up, and the kids got to pick a book of their own! First, The Mouse-team explained what all the different books (There are thirty of them in all) were, and then, the kids came up and picked which one they wanted. We were so happy to see all of the kids with their books, and so proud to know that WE made that possible. It was a wonderful feeling.

But, then it was lunchtime, and all the kids went home. (not as easy as it sounds, as some of them have to walk several miles to get home) Fortunately, it was also lunchtime for us, and the teachers and villagers hosted The Mouse-team and us to a nice meal, with, of course, sticky rice

Okay, so I’ve been a bit behind on blogging; I’ll be the first to admit it. So, to right this wrong, I’m going to start blogging about the present, in addition to covering the past few months. I know it’s complicated to follow two story-lines at once, but I have faith in you. (well, most of you…)

Without further ado…Welcome to Laos!

Joyce and I are currently in Luang Nam Tha, bustling metropolis, or maybe just a town with one street that runs for about a quarter mile. This could also describe yesterday’s Lao town, Huay Xai, where we took an egregiously overpriced ferry over the Mekong from Thailand in Laos. The ride took about two minutes, and cost us thirty Baht a piece, which is about US$1. That may not sound like much, but let me give you some perspective. A 22 oz. slushy at 7-11 is 20 Baht, a local phone call is 1 Baht and our hotel rooms were often 200 Baht. So, 60 Baht for a ferry: RIIIIIIP OOOOOOOFFFFF! But hey, what were we going to do, swim?

Huay Xai was not a booming center of cosmopolitan culture; I was just glad that they had rooms to sleep in, for $100,000. (ha ha ha ha ha, that’s actually Lao Kip, at k10,000 per $1; they’ve had some inflation here…) We didn’t do much in Huay Xai but eat, sleep and leave the next day. Each of these seemingly innocuous events deserves some attention, however:

-Eating: I ordered a fried fish, but I then began to wonder, “Is it actually safe to eat a fish caught in the Mekong, in northern Laos, just a little ways from China, where the Mekong is dammed and factoried to oblivion? Well, who knows, but I hope I didn’t eat a three-headed fish, or something of the sort.

-Sleeping: Joyce and I went back to our room for a “nap” at 6pm. At 9pm, we woke up, got ready for bed (yeah, it seemed a bit incongruous to us too.) and then watched BBC News on our teeny TV. Watching the news was a fantastic experience. We didn’t learn anything of particular note (I mean, who DID think that John Edwards would be the Democratic nominee?) Then, we went back to bed, and slept for another eight hours. It was a fantastic experience.

Leaving: So, we’d paid the night before for our bus tickets, but then the morning came, and we weren’t actually taking a bus, but a minivan, which wasn’t actually leaving at 9am, the hour we had rushed through breakfast to make, but at 10am, because the driver wanted to wait for more tourists to arrive; timeliness isn’t really an understood concept here. So, we decided to take the bus instead. This was, in retrospect, perhaps a poor decision. The bus left about ten minutes after we’d arrived, and we were lucky to get seats, although they weren’t next to each other; the loud Italians on the back of the bus had to sit on other people’s bags. Laotians were throwing up, although it wasn’t bumpy or bad at all – odd…and gross. (although our most vomit-happy experience yet was our ferry ride in Thailand. More on that later.) Plus, let’s not forget the frequent stops to pick up people shouting who knows what in Lao, and then sitting in the aisle, or virtually on my lap. Needless to say, we were happy to arrive. Oh, but lest I forget, our bags were put on top of the bus, and it rained. So, as I type all of our clothing is hanging in our room, drying out. Laos, don’t you just love it? Or, maybe the slogan should be: “Laos, you’re not the first world anymore!” But really, it’s beautiful here, the people are nice, and it doesn’t feel as though the whole nation’s one big tourist attraction, like Thailand.

The day after tomorrow, we’re going trekking the hills around here, which is supposed to be amazing. There are all different tribes in the hills, and the scenery’s beautiful. I’ll let you know about that more after we’ve done it.

See you later! Jack

When Joyce wasn’t cursing (and if you’ve ever been in the car when she’s driving, you know she’s got the mouth of a drunk sailor), this was an amazing experience!

We woke up early (like 4:30 AM early) and got onto our van with the three other trekkers and our guide, Gladis (although, none of the trekkers could remember her name until someone heard her introduce herself on the last day…). We drove from Cuzco up into the mountains, over roads that make you wish you were blind, so you couldn’t see where you were going. Our first stop was a market, where all the trekkers got little gifts for local children (we got combs and hair ties; most people got bread.). We also happened to walk by a man hacking into a cow’s head with a machete…nothing says, “love that meat” like seeing it be hacked to bits with flies everywhere.

Next came more driving, up to a little mountain town, where we met ‘the horsemen.’ No, not the horsemen of the Apocalypse, you pessimist! Besides, if the world had ended, don’t you think you’d know by now? These were the horsemen (and donkey-men, and llama-men) who oversaw the carrying of our stuff, and transported the tents for sleeping and eating. They invariably left an hour after us, and arrived an hour before us. They moved fast, man!

The first leg of that day’s trekking was over a 3,800m (roughly 12,500ft) pass, and the hike was virtually straight up. Joyce and I did not have an easy time with this, and we assumed the position we were to hold for the rest of the trek: way behind everyone else. But, it was beautiful and and the air was clean, and the Quechua (the mountain people of Peru – Quechua was the language of the Incas, and is still spoken!) were so friendly. Their clothing is made of vividly dyed robes, hats, skirts, etc. It’s wonderful to see.

After the firs pass, came the inevitable walk down the mountain, not all the way down, just a thousand or two feet. (nothing really…in Andes trekking terms.) Now, the complexity is that Joyce really doesn’t like walking on loose rock, and she’s not that partial to going downhill either, so going down a steep, rocky, wet (oh yeah, it started to HAIL when we were on top of the pass!) and foggy mountainside wasn’t exactly her idea of heaven. She was not happy, to say the least, and let this be known to me with some force. But, there was nowhere to go but down, so down we went.

The vistas were amazing, pristine lakes, beautiful mountains, alpine ridges, Andean geese and rabbits, Llamas, Alpacas, I could go on all day.

Luckily for us, lunchtime was at the bottom of the mountain (the hikes up and down had taken a few hours), and the horsemen had set up camp, and our cooks had already started making lunch when we arrived. They set up on big tent, with eating and cooking halves, and another little, port-o-potty size tent, which was exactly that, except that the potty part was just a hole in the ground, and you had to cover up your stuff with dirt. Well, at least there was a tent, so you weren’t getting rained on while taking care of business…

Lunch was delicious, as were all our meals, and we relished the chance to sit down. But, once we’d finished eating, it was off again, up another mountain. This ascent wasn’t quite as bad; I guess we’d already gotten somewhat acclimated and used to the terrain. Still, it was a serious hike! On the way up, we saw something truly amazing: we passed a Quechua woman with a lamb and a ewe; the woman told us that the lamb had only been born an hour ago, and it was still getting its feet steady on the mountainside. A new born lamb! How often have you seen one of those?

So, up we went…up, and up, and up, until finally, that’s right, we got to the top and had to go down! Now, if the first descent was rocky and steep, this second one made it look like a walk in the park. The entire path down, more or less, was made up of loose rock, and the hill was super steep, with very few flat parts. This was Joyce’s idea of hell! I felt really bad for her; she trudged down cursing us for having gone on such a stupid trek in such a stupid country with such stupid people! You get the idea. We got to the bottom of the mountain, about half an hour after everyone else, and went to our sleeping tent to put our stuff away, and that’s when I realized that I’d lost lots of stuff.

Now, let me backtrack a bit. Joyce’s pack was really heavy, so I took some of the stuff from her, and put it into mine, but in doing so, I accidentally left the zipper a bit open, so little things were falling out, and as I was last, no one noticed. We didn’t lose anything of great importance, but it was REALLY annoying. Here’s what we lost:

-toothpaste

-our camera tripod (which was really nice, little and portable, and had only been used a few times!)

-some mints, and few other things that I can’t remember.

So, we ate dinner, borrowed some toothpaste, and got to sleep. We’d rented sleeping bags and Thermarest pads, and those pads were well worth the $3.50 a day! It gets FREAKIN’ COLD in the Andes!

Day Two:

More mountains, more amazing scenery, more sense of accomplishment, in reaching a 4,400 meter high peak (that’s REALLY HIGH, for those of you not familiar with the metric system, or 14,400 ft), and more good food. Yeah, day two was pretty cool.

Perhaps the most memorable event was seeing some Quechua brothers, about six, four and two, come up to get some bread. So, all the trekkers had bought little things for the local children; most people got bread, but Joyce and I got hairbands and combs, which we gave to the girls and boys, respectively. But, the bread was the big hit. The Quechua word for bread is “tanta,” and this has been immortalized for me and Joyce by hearing so many little children arrive and say, “tanta?” expectantly, and then light up when it appeared. Anyhow, these three boys lived right off of our trail, and the older two came running out when they saw us. They each took their piece of bread, and then took a comb, a pencil, and some other fun stuff. Then, Joyce and I spotted the little waddling two year old, coming as fast as his fat little legs would take him. One of his brothers called out, “tanta,” and he made his way up the hill towards us saying “tanta? Tanta? Tanta?” excitedly, the whole way. When he got to us, he grabbed his piece of bread, and immediately started walking away. His brothers tried to show him that we had more to offer, combs, etc., but he only looked at them confusedly, and then started eating his bread again. It was really cute.

These poor kids, they have bright red cheeks, caused by BOTH sunburn AND frostbite. That’s what happens when you grow up in the mountains, on the equator. Their poor cheeks freeze overnight, and then get burned during the day. It’s really sad to see a two year old with cheeks like that, but I guess that’s just the way it is for them.

Anyhow, this day’s trekking led us out of the valley we’d slept in, and up its side, and finally over the 4,400m pass. It was a LONG day of hiking, and definitely the most grueling. We had to make frequent stops, so everyone could catch their breath. But, the feeling of looking back, and thinking, “I crossed that mountain,” or “I crossed that valley,” is just amazing, and well worth all of the toil. I have rarely felt more satisfied that I felt standing on top of the pass, looking back at all the terrain we’d covered over the past two days.

Dinner that night was a fantastic experience, mostly because it involved sitting down. But, before dinner, we met up with some local (as in, they lived on the top of the hill next to us) Quechua women, who sold us some Alpaca hats and like stuff. Joyce and I took care of some Christmas shopping there.

But, just as we were finishing, the heavens opened, and monumental amounts of rain came pouring down. This didn’t stop all night, and it gets worse: THE RAIN TURNED TO SNOW!!! This was, mind you, during THE PERUVIAN SUMMER!!! Imagine what the winter’s like!

Our poor horsemen and cooks were happily sleeping in the eating/cooking tent, when WHAM!!!, the tent collapsed from the weight of the snow, and they were left without shelter! So, they kindly cleared all the snow off of all of our tents, and then went to sleep with the family up the hill. These guys were troopers; they didn’t complain one bit, but just thought the whole situation was really funny.

Day three:

This is the day that we made it to Machu Picchu Town (aka, Aguas Calientes, or “Hot Waters,” as there’s a hot spring there). We only hiked for a few days, and then a van took us to MP Town, where we had the evening to hang out.

We went through several increasingly larger towns (not that that’s saying much), and then came to Ollaytotambo, the biggest town around (it had a high school, which is saying a lot, all kidding aside.). There were cars, and roads, and solar panels, and soccer fields, and all sorts of modern accoutrements that one doesn’t find in the middle of Andean mountains. But, we just marched through, got on our van, and headed off.

We did leave a few horsemen, as we didn’t need most of them anymore, and so we had go through the customary tipping procedure, including the debate about how much, who would give it (me – I was the only one who spoke Spanish), and the like. Joyce and I gave a few extra dollars to one boy, Gregorio, who head been in charge of the mule that had come with us, in case anyone needed a lift. He had told us that he was saving up all year to earn 100 Soles (about $33), so he could buy a bike to ride to school. This really pulled on our heartstrings, and we felt like we should help. So, good luck Gregorio!

After that, it was off to lunch, and a look at some cool Inca ruins. Then onto a train, and towards MP Town! Joyce and I went to the hot springs excitedly, but let me tell you, they were DISGUSTING! You couldn’t see further down than an inch, and there were lots of kids, doing who knows what bodily functions. Not a recommended experience.

The next day was Machu Picchu, but that’s for the next installment!

Signing off, here in Chiang Mai, Thailand (sorry, I know I’m a bit…okay several months, behind. I’m trying to catch up, though!), Jack

There we were, trying to be quiet as we explored the Cusco Cathedral. After all, who wants to make tons of noise and bother all of the other visitors? Well, we were about to find out the answer to that question, and many more. A little (and I mean little; he couldn’t have been taller than 4′10”) old man walked up to us, and asked if we wanted a tour. We told him that we didn’t speak Spanish, and he reassured us that he would do his best to explain in English. So, we figured, why not? If only we’d been able to go back in time and tell ourselves any of the many reasons why not, but alas…

The first issue was that the man was clearly deaf, and couldn’t hear any of the questions we asked, or even notice that we were asking questions, as he blithely went along. We couldn’t only understand about half of what he said, and I’m not sure that all of that half even made sense. Moreover, because he was deaf, he also had no idea that HE WAS SHOUTING EVERYTHING HE SAID, SO EVERYONE IN THE CHURCH COULD HERE HIM. And, just to make matters worse, he had a flair for the dramatic…. Well,this all added up to Joyce having to lag behind, because she couldn’t control her hysteria, and all of the other people in the Cathedral looking at us like we were nuts.

But, the coup de grace was: every time he came to any panel, he would begin to tell us about it, and then when it got to describing the gold work, tell us that (while scrunching up his whole body, for full volume), “they melted down the IIIIIIINCAAAAAA GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLD!!!!!!!!! They STOOOOOOLE it!” Again, and again and again. Inca gold seemed to be all that this man could think about.

As though the cathedral designers knew that one day this man would come along, they put a small echoey crypt in with very low ceilings, and only one little staircase leading out. Well, when “IIIINCAAAAAAAAAAAA GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLD!!!!!” got here, Joyce just couldn’t handle it anymore. She had to run upstairs, out of the crypt, and burst in laughter. Some other Americans asked what language our guide was speaking, which just added to her hysteria.

Since then, Joyce and I have enjoyed turning to each other at random moments and saying, “IIIIINCAAAAAA GOOOOOOOOOOOLD!!!!!!!” Our poor children…

The title says it all! Our experience of Lima was limited to the airport, but if the whole city is like that, it must be the suckiest city on Earth, if not the entire Solar System (maybe even the entire Orion arm of the Milky Way…).

We arrived in the airport with a few hours to spare, went through security (after paying our departure tax, a fixture of Latin American travel.), and then found that there was nowhere to eat, and let me tell you, we were hungry. The security dude told us that we’d have to get our departure tax receipt revalidated, but that’s no problem, we thought, right? WRONG YOU FOOL! DON’T YOU KNOW THAT YOU’RE IN THE LIMA AIRPORT!?!?!?!?!?! So, at any rate, it wasn’t that easy. We had to either pay them the tax again, or go and talk to the head of airport security. We tracked down the “jeffe,” as he was called, and he told us to go and fill out a form with our airline. So we did that, then we went back to the jeffe, and he scanned our tax receipts, and sent us on our way. That’s it! He scanned them on a computer and filed away the sheets we’d filled out.

So, to reiterate, we had to find some jeffe dude, fill out forms, and run around the airport, as our flight was leaving in twenty minutes, all just so that we could walk through a little gate. Yeah, the Lima airport sucks (and I’m just telling you one of the various stories to illustrate this point, not the ones about making us find and recheck our luggage for no apparent reason, taking away our water and sunscreen after they said they wouldn’t, not having ANY water fountains, so you HAVE to buy water, or the one where they suck so much that they disappear into a vacuum of their own suckiness.).

Anyhow, on to greener (mountainous) pastures – Cusco! We really loved this city. It’s got a real precolumbian, Inca feel to it, but also tons of beautiful churches. Cusco was the capital of the Inca empire, and the city was laid out in the shape of a jaguar (Cool huh? I think the NYC planners should redesign their city to look like a giant apple.). The food was really good, and often ridiculously cheap (think $2 each for: soup, tea, an entree with vegetables, and fruit), Joyce and I discovered after eating at some expensive places. We wandered all around Cusco, bought some local artwork, and soaked in the local culture. We could see children practicing a dance from our hotel, and then one day, we saw them giving a huge show. It was very cute!

We also went to Qoricancha, the Inca Temple of the Sun, and then a Dominican abbey. This is one of the most amazing pieces of architecture that I’ve ever seen. The Incas cut each stone to fit perfectly against the stones next to it, so that they needed no mortar, and their walls were still impenetrable! It’s just so cool!

We wholeheartedly endorse visiting Cusco! It’s great, and the area around it is fabulous too, as we discovered on our trek. But, more about that in the next post.

Ah, the Galapagos, home of lots of bizarre, and often beautiful, creatures, land of ridiculously rough seas that make everyone on-board sick, bastion of Galapageno separatists. You were an unforgettable experience, and one that need not be repeated.

Getting to Ecuador was bad enough, with a TWELVE HOUR delay in the San Jose, Costa Rica airport, and then another long layover in Panama city, but we made it to Quito, capital of Ecuador, all the same. Better late (VERY late) than never.

The next morning, after waking up at the leisurely hour of 4:30 AM, we headed to the airport to catch the flight to the Galapagos. There’s not much to say about that; it was flight. There was a loud and annoying American next to us who wouldn’t shut up. This, unfortunately, is a consistent theme. Joyce and I are beginning to understand why everyone always says that Americans are so noisy and ignorant.

The only means of travel within the islands of the Galapagos is by ship, and the government restricts how many people can go onto any one island at a time, thereby restricting how big a ship can be. Ours could house fourteen passengers, and seven crew members. The crew was great; so friendly, knowledgeable, funny and helpful. Plus, the cook made REALLY good food! The downside of this – at least for Joyce – was that the crew only spoke Spanish. This was a consistent theme throughout Latin America:

People speak only Spanish + Joyce doesn’t speak Spanish = Joyce is really annoyed

Anyhow, the reason you go to the Galapagos is for the wildlife, and we saw lots of it! Here were the highlights of the trip:

-There are Sealions EVERYWHERE! They’re big; they’re small. They’re loud; they’re asleep. They want to chase you away; they want to lie right in front of you, as though to say, “you want a piece of me, bub?”

-The iguanas, of which there are three kinds: Marine, land and hybrid (a mix of the marine and land…complicated, isn’t it.). The marine iguanas actually swim in the ocean and eat the seaweed out there, but if they stay out too long, they freeze, and die; they are, after all, cold-blooded. The land iguanas eat pieces of the massive prickly pear plants that grow all over all the islands. They’re very slow, until you see them fighting over a piece of prickly pear; then the fire gets lit in them. The hybrid iguanas are disappointingly similar to the land iguanas; they look a bit different, but that’s it.

-The blue footed boobies. Yes, their feet are blue, and yes, they’re actually called “boobies.” The most amazing thing about boobies (we couldn’t help but to laugh every time we said it either…) is the way that they fish. They start out in mid air, and then dive bomb, straight down, hitting the water and bouncing back up a moment later. Apparently, only one out of three attempts is successful, so it’s hard to be a boobie. Plus, every time they dive, they scratch their corneas slightly, as they don’t close their eyes when diving. So, if they live long enough, they’ll eventually go blind. To see a whole bunch diving, go to: http://youtube.com/watch?v=i3yVnmQjiS0

-The albatrosses. Dude, these are some cool birds. They’re ridiculously big, they only come to land for a few weeks a year, and they choose a mate by doing an insanely awesome and funny-looking dance. Check out an example: http://www.youtube.com/v/YcZqI08qvqA&rel=1 We saw them do this dance, and it was totally amazing!

-Flamingos live in the Galapagos. And, did you know that they’re born white, they turn pink because of the pigment in the shrimp that they eat? I didn’t know either. They stand on one leg here too.

-Finches, of course. Like Darwin, we saw lots of them. Unlike Darwin, we did not kill and stuff them for study. There are tons of finches, of all different kinds, but they’re all really small (just in case you didn’t know what a finch was.).

-Of course, the giant land tortoises. These are some neat animals, and it’s even neater to see them fight over territory, as what would take two seconds for any other animal takes two minutes of slow-mo neck-reaching, agonizingly slow biting and fleeing. The most famous of the these tortoises is Lonesome George, the last of his species, who is housed with two females of a slightly different species, in the hopes of keeping some vestige of his kind. He, however, has no interest in mating. Even tortoises don’t like you when you’re desperate.

-Our boat, the most fearsome beast of all! Joyce got sick the first night, and I got sick the second (well, Joyce did that night too…). Plus, lots of other people on board also got sick. No one tells you this, but the Galapagos islands have some of the roughest waters in the world around them, and every time the boat heads anywhere, it’s REALLY rough. Plus, just to add to the fun, Joyce and I had a room under the deck, where there was no fresh air and it smelled of Diesel. Mmmmm, Diesel, nothing settles an upset stomach like that fine smell!

All and all, Joyce and I agreed, we would have rather watched the National Geographic special; we were disappointed.

After La Fortuna, we rented a car and drove ourselves back to San Jose. But, on the way, we stopped at the Los Angeles Cloud Forest, which was AMAZING! For those of you in the know, this is a place exactly like Monteverde, except without the tourists, people trying to sell you stuff, and generally annoying atmosphere. The forest was called Los Angeles, and it had some pretty awesome stuff in it.

 Here´s a quick primer on Costa Rican Cloud Forest Flora and Fauna (say that five times)

-Leaf cutter ants work 24 hours a day, until they die! There are five jobs for these ants, and all of them are female (except the males, of course): workers, soldiers, the queen, males and nurses. Workers cut leaves and carry them back to the nest, soldiers guard the nest from other ants and predators, the queen LAYS 6,000 EGGS A DAY!!! She´s a busy lady. The males, on the other hand, breed with the queen once, AND THEN DIE!!! Man, am I glad I´m not an ant. Nurses clean the leaves before they get into the nest, to make sure that no harmful organisms get in. The ants chew the leaves and then feed them to a fungus, which they eat.

-There are quite a few different types of epiphytes, including bromeliads and orchids. Some harm the tree that they attach to, others don´t. An epiphyte is a plant that grows on another plant, and never touches the ground. Neat, huh?

-A strangler fig will find a tree, and then slowly grow around it, taking several hundred years, finally killing the tree. But, by then, the fig has established roots and no longer needs the original tree for support.

-If you go walking in the cloud forest, bring a walking stick.

-The Costa Rican raccoon is called “zorro.” Doesn´t make the masked Mexican sound that cool now, does it?

-Costa Rican mammals smell BAD!!! Especially when they´re wet.

-There are 114 types of snakes in Costa Rica, of which 14 can kill you. The other one hundred can just bite you.

-If you´re a spider, Joyce wants to take a photo of you.

-And finally, there´s an orchid that spends its whole life growing, just to bloom for one day, and then die. I REALLY hope that the bees don´t miss it!

Hasta Luego, Jack

Sorry for the posting delay; we´ve been out of Internet range. Anyhow, back to the action.

 Joyce and I have had our first experience with being conned, and let me tell you, it sucked, A LOT. But first, let me tell you about what can only be described as the most revolting hotel in Costa Rica, where we had the pleasure of staying for one interminably long, sweaty, poison Ivy (I didn´t mention that I got that zip-lining, did I…), unsafe, and generally displeasurable night. There were ants on one wall, and a lizard on the other; Joyce didn´t know which side of the bed was worse. There was one fan, and it sucked, and not in the way that a fan should. The shower “supposedly” had hot water, but none was to be found, there was no sink, and the shelves could hold about, oh, two pounds of weight. We learned our lesson about seeing the room before you agree to take it.

 After leaving scenic Manzanillo, we spent a day in not-so-scenic Puerto Viejo. It can only be described as a high surfer´s paradise, as all that we found were drug dealers, booze and beaches. Need I say more?

After taking the four hour bus rid to San Jose, we knew that we needed to rush to the next bus station, to catch our next bus. My investigation the previous night had revealed that that bus station was just a few blocks away, and a short ride from the bus station that we´d be getting into (there are quite a few bus stations in San Jose.). When we arrived at station number one, a man asks where we were going, and I told him the name of the station. He said, ¨You´re going to La Fortuna?¨ Which we were, so I said ¨Yes.¨ He then proceeded to tell us (or, more specifically, me, as this all happened in Spanish, and Joyce doesn´t speak any.) that we couldn´t go to La Fortuna from San Jose, and had to go to the next city over, Alajuela. Now, I found this very suspicious, having just looked the info up the night before, but at the same time, being the naturally trusting person that I am, I figured that he was just trying to help us. So, we agreed to go with him. BIG MISTAKE!!! 

As soon as we were in the cab, we both started feeling uncomfortable, and unsure. And, once we got to the bus station in Alajuela, all of our fears were confirmed. It was, you see, not a bus station, but a bus stop! And, then he proceeded to ask for an obscenely large amount (actually, we only found out about the obscenity of it later.), and left us there. Then, when the bus came, it was a local bus, not express, so it stopped at every little town on the way! Oh, and someone told us that the bus we were on LEFT FROM SAN JOSE!!!

So, to recap, the lying asshole driver: 1) Took us to the wrong place 2) Overcharged us 3) Put us on a local bus 4) Was smelly 5) Really sucked a lot.

Okay, so the upside to this day was that once in La Fortuna, we found a cheap place to stay that had AIR CONDITIONING (the angelic choir sings.)! It´s hard to explain quite how exciting this was for us, but let me just say that we didn´t leave the room the next day for several hours, and just watched the cable TV (woo hoo!) and enjoyed our climate controlled environment.

 But, lest you think that our sucky rip-off experiences ended there, let me nip that in the bud. We went that evening to a coin laundromat (let me emphasize that, ¨COIN¨) where, upon arrival, a woman asked if we´d like her to do our laundry. We asked how much that would be, and she said 6,000 Colones (that´s $12.). We politely declined and said we´d do it ourselves. She said she had to go and ask the boss if that was okay. Now, before I go on, let me just make this more clear to you; we were at a ¨coin¨ laundromat where you had to ask special permission to do your own laundry. No, it didn´t make any sense to us either. So when the woman came back, she informed us that it would be 5,000 Colones to do it ourselves (that´s $10.). The catch here is that the ¨coins¨ were not actual money, but play money, only used to start the machines, making this only ¨coin¨ laundry in the loosest sense. But, desperate for non-smelly clothing, we acquiesced, and did our laundry (well, Joyce did our laundry.).

 That was our last rip-off experience in Costa Rica, except for the fact that they charge you $25 per person for the privilege of leaving their country (Ecuador charges $40, the bastards!). We just hung out in La Fortuna, looked at the volcano, which, when it wasn´t cloudy (which was rare) was pretty neat, and watched cable. Oh, and, I´ll just throw in that the hotel in San Jose for the night before we flew out was $144, which is virtually more than we spent on rooms everywhere else in the whole country!

Joyce doesn´t want to go back to Costa Rica.

On Saturday, we went on two different excursions, both from the ever exciting ville of Manzanillo. First, at six thirty, AM(!!!!!) we went kayaking in the Gondoca lagoon, just north of the Panamanian border. It was truly beautiful! We saw kingfishers, herons, white-faced monkeys and spider monkeys, and heard lots and lots of howler monkeys. The lagoon was peaceful, and so serene. The only problem was that we were REALLY tired.

You see, I had a little alarm malfunction. I had set the alarm for 5:45, when we wanted it, but I had accidentally set the CLOCK an hour early. So, you can see where this is going. We woke up at 4:45, got to the meeting point, we saddened when the guide didn´t show, and then had a moment of realization, when, looking at my watch, I realized that it was only 6:00, RIGHT THEN!!! This has led to innumerable comments by Joyce as to my time-telling abilities, not that she needs any more reason to poke fun at me. I have, after all, already misplaced almost 3,000 Colones (that´s about six bucks.).

Anyhow, later in the day, after showering, eating lunch, and taking a five minute nap, we went on the BUMPIEST ride ever, finally arriving at the canopy tour. Now, lest you think that this is some laid back walk across bridges, let me set you straight. We zip lined across large expanses of forest, and hiked up hills to get to higher points from which to zip line. At first, I was sure that we were both going to die. I mean, at least it´s an exciting way to go (couple die in tragic zip lining accident. Howler monkeys wail remorsefully over their corpses.) But, after doing the first zip, we both thought that it was just REALLY awesome. The vistas were amazing; huge expanses of unbroken forest, with green plants and white mist everywhere.

The comic relief came in the form of my scaring some unsuspecting cows half to death. They were grazing, unaware that at any moment I was going to fly over them (which didn´t bother them), and then turn upside-down (now, THAT freaked them out). There was a mini-stampede, but don´t worry, no sloths were injured in the process. BTW, Joyce saw a sloth, and hasn´t been able to stop talking about it. I think she´s reconsidering her vows…

There we were, walking home from another exciting dinner in one of Manzanillo’s many fine dining establishments (uhhh, maybe three), when three rambunctious young Manzanillanos went bicycling by. One shouted out to us, “¡Buenos Noches! Good Morning!” We were heartily amused by this, or, at least, I was amused, and then explained to Joyce, who speaks no Spanish, why this was amusing.

 This has been the general tone of life on the beach. Everyone´s friendly and wants to get to know you better, including the mosquitoes. Manzanillo is a town of 150, to estimate it generously.