Halfway Point

Today marks the halfway point of the Central American adventure; we are having a grand time. This news was pointed out by K.F.A. circa 4:30 in the morning. I guess now instead of counting up, we are counting down.

Either way... we travel on.

Day 17

Up at 5:00--before the birdies began their tweeting--in pitch black K.F.A. and I executed departure. It was not until the screeching of the gate I was fully awake. The noise mocking my cries--I was not ready to leave Uvita, but we had already extended our stay by a day... and now we are on more stringent deadline since our Nicaragua tickets have a date (in addition to being paid for). So we waddled the half mile to the bus stop to catch the six o´clock bus to San Isidro, arriving just in time for breakfast. Gallo pinto con huevos, anyone? We had planned to make a stop at the post office before catching the bus to San Gerardo, but the best laid plans do not always pan out. In Costa Rica a meal is meant to be enjoyed, therefore if you do not ask for your bill, it will not come. You could look at this as a lot of wasted time, or prime opportunity to allow my cafe negro (black coffee) to cool to a drinkable--not scold my mouth--temperature. During this time I wrote the two postcards I had purchased.

Next we found a bank to restock on funds before heading to the Central Market. The market revealed solely meat, so I was quite happy with our decision to dine elsewhere before this exploration. Bus number two departed at 9:30 for the hour and a half ride to Casa Mariposa (Butterfly House). There is nothing better than a music session in route to each destination with the Costa Rican backdrop, where green-ness travels for miles. At the end of the road we had an estimated kilometer walk--straight uphill with heavy packs. The temperature in the mountains, however, was significantly more welcoming than stale beach air. Somehow we still managed to show up drenched from head-to-toe... and continued on, evading cold mountains showers throughout this getaway. A tour of the hostel, a brief hammock session, and a sandwich later, we were off to The Cloudbridge Nature Reserve for hiking. The afternoon hike lead us to four distinct waterfalls along the way. The continuous up-and-down was another signal we were at the base of Chirripo Mountain, the highest peak in Central America. It was a physically exhausting hike, one though, that made you crave more.

On the way home, I stopped to scale a lime tree, capturing four, despite the doubting from my travel-mate. Fun fact: In Costa Rica limes have an orange-like appearance.

Once settled in our comfy cottage, I found a table for journaling--overlooking unbeatable views--with a cup of coffee, courtesy of the hostel while K.F.A. read. The temperature continued to drop throughout the night, ¨forcing¨ me to bundle up in my fleece. I wish I could convey how wonderful that was.

Dinner was cooked by K.F.A. while I wrapped up my thoughts. The menu for the night: a vegetable medley over couscous. And for our first dessert, K.F.A. fried a plantain and cut up a mango... that rocked. Things got really wild when post-dinner tea was offered(!!!). The rhythm of our travel has found its beat, and while I am grateful to have this much time, as we settle in this routine... I am more and more aware of each minute we have, dreading the fact this excursion too will come to an end.

A Taste of Travel (Day 16)

Day 16, obnoxious afternoon and all, might have been a trip peak. At 6:12 am I heard the first screams of the howler monkeys, later than normal and no less annoying than the repetitive tick of my alarm clock. This was as good a time as any to lace up my running shoes for a jog on the rocky back roads of Uvita, Costa Rica. The run commenced on the beach with stretching before a short walk back to Flutterby, our 'hostel by the sea.' Deciding to be extra hydrated or competitive, K.F.A. and I chugged down full Naglenes. The hostel chef had breakfast waiting, as if he was working directly for us. Our plates did not stay loaded long--this was some of the best gallo pinto con huevos (rice and beans with eggs) to date! And the switch from scrambled to fried egg was a nice touch. Yes, on Day 16 we decided we could not concoct a better breakfast, nor will we tire of this combination. For three dollars this trifecta of food wards off hunger until dinner, not only is this fabulous for the travelers budget, the bikini body appreciates this too.

Following breakfast, we walked to the supermarket for dinner supplies, officially committing to cooking from here on out. Fresh vegetables (cabbage, squash, tomatoes, onion, and garlic) and noodles in hand, we checked out and began the venture home. The groceries were labeled and unloaded. This left us with enough time to catch the (natural) 'Whale Tale' on Playa Uvita, an hour round-trip walk from our temporary home, at low tide.

Returning after 11 am, my feet let me know rest time was in order. Wouldn't you know... the tree house we were sleeping in had hammocks tied up just below. The plan was to finish Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer but instead the hour was spent with shut eyes. To recover from the intense nap, we had lunch. I realize 1000 words ago, I mentioned gallo pinto usually tides us over until dinner, meaning the midday meal is skipped, however, a fruit and veggie truck stopped by the hostel seconds after we got back from the supermarket... and sold us on a pineapple for a dollar and change. Enough on being cheap and eating, except I am almost certain this remark is premature because dinner will work its way into being covered--it was spectacular(!!!). So if pineapple is considered lunch, we lunched.

On second thought, lets continue with budget travel. Part of traveling on what I have identified as the 'student's budget' means asking plenty of questions--to Ticos (a person of native to Costa Rica) in broken Spanish, to hostel owners, to your guide book, to various travelers along the way--and sufficiently researching. Onwards. K.F.A.'s previous jaunt to the supermarket led to the discovery of a Tica Bus ticket counter... which we seeked out after lunch. When I say ´seeked out´ I mean we walked there to ask questions about bus tickets to Nicaragua with nothing in hand. To our delight--this was a place for purchasing the advanced tickets we needed. Since we had no money, we quickly walked back to the hostel to collect credit cards... only to return and discover we needed passports. Had this information been distributed prior--say when we mentioned we were going to collect money--that would have have been nice. Each leg of the journey is 12 minutes, 30 minutes round trip when you include time to dig through over-sized backpacks, fill up water bottles, and use the bathroom. My watch read 3:06 pm when we arrived at The Whale Statue (Yes, the ticket counter was inside a foam-ish whale. Definitely not strange.) on our third attempt. Following the business model of the developing world, the one worker had mysteriously disappeared. Our avid interest in these tickets, coupled with the comment, ¨We will be right back; how late are you open?¨ apparently meant nothing. You can only laugh in these situations. After 40 minutes, we gave up.

On rented bikes we took off to further explore Uvita. The problem being these bikes were priced at two dollars per hour for a reason; one bike had you so hunched over the lower back went immediately numb while the other bike I could only picture my 76-year-old grandmother cruising the beach on--this bike did NOT do inclines of any sort. The Whale Statue was a good turn around spot... and luck would have 'our girl' back--working. The agonizingly slow process of securing tickets flew by, simply because we did not have to ride those bikes. Knowing we have seats on a bus to Nicaragua is a great feeling, days later. The remaining hour of ´bike time´ took us directly back to the hostel, with 20 minutes to spare before our last beach sunset for quite sometime. The sun set well--it did not disappoint.

K.F.A. prepared an epic meal; I watched. We make an incredible team... but I will save those details for another post. (I had to hand-draft this post, making me acutely aware of how obnoxiously long this ramble is. In addition, I am paying money to upload this post. Now I am not only not getting paid to write, I am actually being charged. What happened to ¨free¨ speech?) Luckily after dinner, the typical night--as was the case in Day 16--caps off with dish clean-up, shower, more reading, and bed.

¨We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope.¨ (Edward Abbey)

Good Neighbors

This isn't exactly a story of importance, instead a wish for my future--may I be as skilled at my parent's in landing stellar neighbors. They nailed it Kansas, nine years later... and we are still in touch with the good people of Lenexa. Here, in Northern Virginia, the essence of excellence has been captured again. Our neighbors, each in their own way, are awesome. I do not want to leave them behind--for a day, for a trip to Central America, for forward progress in my life. They are... that awesome. 

For N.J.M.'s December 28th birthday, the neighborhood girls ventured to Georgetown, Washington DC for 10 uninterrupted hours together. There was shopping (till I nearly dropped), lunch we at Cafe Milano (no celebrity sightings), and cupcakes at Baked & Wired (holy heaven!). 

Good day. Better People.

Writing 2011

I cannot document the start of 2012--a trip to New Orleans, Louisiana--without 'officially' closing out 2011. There is something idealistic about turning the calendar, whether to a new month or year. And while I can appreciate a fresh start, it has never been necessary--who cares if it is Thursday or Monday (unless it is football Saturday!), the 15th or the 2nd of November or January, the year 2012 or 2011. Entering 2012, however, felt entirely different. And that is probably because when I reflect on 2011 it feels as if nothing happened. That is not completely accurate, but the majority of what occurred was internal--establishing routine, personal growth, regaining some sense of control--or logistical--phone calls, job applications, etc. To be cliche, I have resolutions for the upcoming year. The 'plan' might derail again... and that will be okay; I have faith in my ability to reboot. (I have said this before. I have not believed it before.) I am taking steps, this year, into the great unknown, unsure where I will end up. That is part of the excitement of living though, right?

The past year is a blur of places visited. A first and second trip to New York, New York. Two trips to Detroit, Michigan. Four trips to Raleigh, North Carolina. An uncountable number of treks to Athens, Georgia and back. Divided time between Beaufort, Charleston, Columbia, Greenville, and Pendleton while working in Clemson, South Carolina. South Dakota crossed off my '50 states before 50 years' timetable. Took advantage of the Taylorsville, Davis, and San Francisco, California offerings. Had a weeklong adventure with Grandma in Arizona. Two weeks in the Boston, Massachusetts area. More than one visit to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Weekend trips in Annapolis and Baltimore, Maryland. Day-trips to Columbus, Maryland; Alexandria, Virginia; Georgetown, Washington, D.C.; and Harper's Ferry, West Virginia. A reunion in Orlando, Florida. Thanksgiving in Atlanta, Georgia. There was probably a bit too much time spent in Northern Virginia.

In the haze of travel... were the intentional friendships in route. In The Hire Up--the 2011 H family Christmas letter--Dad described me as a "voracious writer and dedicated pen pal, tweeter, texter, and blogger who manages to stay in touch with friends scattered around the world." And "1$ Megabus and cross country trips in tents demonstrate [my] ability to [enjoy time with and] see the world on a minimalist budget." In this light--people and places--I recall a better year than otherwise remembered.

Still though, with open arms, I welcomed 2012. And again, right steps or wrong, I will progress in some direction this year. 

The Result

This is what happens when I have company. The is what the aftermath of the holidays look like. This is the result of two straight weeks of socializing. This is what happens when I return from a week-long trip. This is what happens when I devote three hours a night to bowl-game season. This is what preparing for a five-week Central American vacation is like.

I have a mile long, or three-page, chicken-scratched 'to-do' list. And, quite magically, it is growing. There are tasks within each task. It is maddening.

And while I would like to accomplish the works of this list before my Wednesday morning departure, I am not fretting. I am relaxed--many praises to exercise, first-rate friends, and the clean-slate of a new year.

Tis the season of a whole lot to accomplish... and far less time to write. Sigh.

Lesotho Care Package

This package from Lesotho awaited me when I arrived home from New Orleans, Louisiana. I could hardly contain my excitement--ripping it open before I snapped a photo of the yellow, duck-taped package itself. Awhile back I sent my friends "homestretch" packages... full of American goods for the final months of service. Three of them came together to reciprocate.

Package contents:

• Stickers: 
• Kaiser Chiefs F.C.: One of two, and my preferred, Republic of South Africa football team. The team is based in Nasrec, Soweto--outside Johannesburg, South Africa and plays in the Premiere Soccer League. 
• The Lesotho Flag (with a Phacks Motor Spares of Hlotse advertisement embedded on the sticker): Awesome! 
• Peace Corps Logos: "For sticking or burning!" 
• Seshoeshoe Bracelet: When "traditional" clothing is spoken of, it usually refers to Seshoeshoe (pronounced: se-shway-shway) fabric, the Basotho blanket (sold at an Anthropologie store near you!), and the conical Basotho hat. The British still have their fingers in the country, as the Seshoeshoe material and the Basotho blankets are manufactured in the United Kingdom for sale in Southern Africa. The Basotho do not seem to mind, as they take great pride and ownership in these pieces. Seshoeshoe fabric is the last thing most foreigners would associate with African dress--it is a stiff, heavy fabric printed in intricate designs. This fabric is usually tailored into dresses that are reminiscent of British colonial dress, with wide skirts, tight waists, and puffy sleeves. Never during my service did I see anyone wearing a Seshoeshoe bracelet, H.J.W. apparently had a ton made--I am glad there was an extra for me!
• Mini Basotho Hat: The only locally produced item in the "traditional" dress is, however, the Basotho hat. My 'real' hat, a gift for completing training, never made it home. I actually have no use for a hat that large... so I am quite thankful for my mini replica. The functionality of this gift-- "A keychain? Hamster hat? Car rearview mirror decoration/distraction?"--was noted by J.P.B. in his 'content index.' These are all viable options. 
• Maps (of Lesotho): Because maps are fabulous!
• Lesotho Highlands Development Authority (LHDA) Pamphlet: For planning my next visit, duh.
• Nik-Naks: I might have a reputation for eating multiple packs of these a day. They are laced with crack, no lie. I downed two packs the minute I opened the package. I promise these are good for you... and definitely vegan. (There are two brands... and these volunteers, knew my preference. Mad props!)
• A Flash-drive: Filled with Famu, Gospel, and House--music we listened too on full-blast at bars and in cars. Terribly music that is terribly missed. 
• Lesotho Chronicles: My clan of Education '10 Volunteers (Peace Corps Lesotho) are utter blog failures, I am constantly harping on them for Lesotho stories. Someone needs to document the day-to-day(!!!). The biggest surprise--J.P.B. hand-wrote a 54-page book entitled Lesotho Chronicles, Volume I filled with tales related solely to Lesotho. After having been reunited with M.E.V. and K.A.B., I am much too emotional to dive into that yet, but the idea Volume I implies there will at least be a Volume II, hooray. 

And all this time you thought Lesotho had nothing to offer America. Lesotho is accepting apologies now. The two-grand plane ticket is worth an eight-cent Nik-Naks experience.  

Thank you H.J.W. Thank you J.P.B. Thank You K.A.B. 

Doggone It

I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. An older dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. A cuddle obsessed dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. A running companion [dog]. I want a dog. I want a dog. An obedient dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. A kennel trained dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. An outdoor loving dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. A sweet, other dog adoring, dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. A mutt. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. A medium-size dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. A house-broken dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a dog. I want a female dog.