Food, Fantasies, and Friends Chapter 8

 

I woke up the next day feeling as if a truck had backed up on my face.  Head was pounding, eyes were puffy, my mind trying to piece together the night before.  It was Jennifer and Jessica's going away party; a get together that consisted of us three, Carol, Mauricio, the neighbors and our two new German additions, Tom and Jerry. 

Tom and Jerry were the talk of the town that day.  They were cordial and attractive, but most importantly, they were guys!  For the first time I could feel the scales tilting towards the land of testosterone!  Up until that point, I was the only guy at the hut; no longer would I be the sole Y chromosome at the garden!  I had an extra pair to accompany me into the world of remote estrogen; it was a pleasant turn of events.

As luck would have it, we all got along great!  After our hungover breakfast, it was back to the routine, plus orientation duties for Tom and Jerry.  So there I was again giving these two the lay of the land and just getting to know them in general, all three of us sharing life stories through the fog of our alcoholic grogginess.  Unfortunately with extreme heat, hangovers tend to linger around like that one awkward friend that you just can't get to leave you alone; but since these two were German, I let some of the other German volunteers at the Compound help expedite their orientation.

Life began to take some interesting and more bonding turns after the arrival of this pair; by the time Jessica and Jennifer left, it was just the German duo, Heidi, Carol and myself.  The next two days that followed were quite typical and by this time I had established some great roots in the Compound.  Our days consisted of the same routine: wake up, pump, breakfast, pump, work, pump and so on....  At this point in our stay we had to pump water so much that it became something like a dance: two steps forward, five pumps back.  Turn your partner, two steps forward, ten pumps back.  The Germans learned the ropes pretty quickly and before you know it, they were out working for the turtle cause while juggling shovels in the garden.
 

One evening I was partnered up with Jerry to guard the hatchery.  The hatchery was definitely the most boring post you could be assigned to.  It essentially required you to watch the eggs for blocks of three or six hours at a time; the reason being that the poachers would dig up the nests if left unwatched and zip away with their treasures.  So at all times there was always one or at least two people present.  This specific evening with Jerry was my first six hour block; my previous times at the hatchery were mostly being a three hour sentry at high noon hours, so I always walked away with some kind of funky tan and a thirst for coconuts.

The good thing about having a partner during these half dozen hour stints was that you had someone to keep you awake and attentive.  It's insanely peaceful to sit and listen to the ocean, but when your job requires you to enjoy the serenity while still being awake, the task becomes that much more daunting.  As a consequence, evening to midnight and dawn shifts turned into total bonding moments with buddies; this situation was no different.  Jerry and I talked about so much, sharing details about our lives in our motherlands, teaching each other words in our native tongue, and just getting to know each other in general.  It was nice to be able to have someone to relate to on a "guy" level; I of course loved connecting with all my female friends, but just like girls like to talk amongst themselves, us guys like to have our bromantic moments as well.

Water crashing in the background, moon peering through the clouds while lightning danced across the ocean tide, our night passed...  Chattering about this and that, confessing said things, laughing at each others jokes.... The hours started to pass by quicker, until finally sleep was starting to settle in bit by bit.  The ocean current and thunderstorms just created this peaceful ambiance that made it so difficult to stay awake.  The solution?  Every hour we had to patrol the nests to see if any hatchlings had dug their way up to the surface.  During the lunch time hatchery watch, you didn't have to worry about there being hatchlings as much because of the extreme heat!  I'm sure those little guys were very comfortable underground and in the shade, away from that powerful sun and the scorching sand; but at night it was party time!

Around 10pm we did our usual walk through the nests, splitting up to cover more ground, when I hear Jerry, "Here!  Here!!  I see turtles!"  I run over to the nest and sure enough, there was a pile of them that had begun to come out.  Even though both of us had been trained on what to do, I shamefully admit, I completely forgot protocol.  So I ran to the compound to get help, and one of our friends Albert, helped us finish the whole process.  A good rule of thumb I came to understand was that nothing was done quickly when it came to the turtles: digging their nests, helping out hatchlings, releasing them, etc...  Nothing.  This was no exception.  All in all, around seventy something turtles I believe came to light that night.  News spread quickly and before we knew it, there was a small group from the compound present to witness this.  We weighed them and wrote down all the pertinent information and then proceeded to prepare their exodus to sea.

Usually the departure of said hatchlings would be done during the daytime because it was easier to clear the sand and pave the way to their march to the water, however since luck was always mocking us it seemed, we had to prepare their parade in essentially pitch dark.  Just as with patrolling, our white lights couldn't be used because it could possibly blind the turtles and also lead them astray thinking the artificial illumination was the moon; so we had to do everything in pitch black conditions.  The herd of friends that showed up helped us with the prep work and we carefully saw them all swim to their nocturnal freedom, making sure none was left behind.

With that feeling of success we walked back to the hut feeling like champions!  Yet that honor wasn't bestowed upon us the next day, but to someone else...  The following morning was Carol's last stay with us.  It was an extremely bittersweet moment for us all and a tearful one for Carol.  We woke up like usual, exchanged stories and postponed garden work to spend time with her.  We laughed over our meals, Jerry and I retelling our experience at the hatchery, sharing our mutual envy that Carol would be able to have ice cream and all these other tasty snacks before we could... just enjoying ourselves as if it would be our last time together....

Turi made us her favorite meal which consisted of this noodle concoction and plantains.  We spent some time on the hammocks talking and listening, all the while dealing with the bouts of anxious stillness that would hit us on occasion.  At one point we sat in silence, soaking it all in, the family we had become, the laughs and sorrows we shared, until Turi's voice rang through the beach... the boat had arrived.

With tears, hugs and smiles we all bid Carol adieu.  While trying to hold back her own emotions, she gave us all strong embraces and stepped foot into the vessel that would take her to freedom.  I know that she was happy to leave; she had come and fulfilled her duties, but I also know that we had all become very close within such a short period of time.  It was all very heart wrenching.

As her boat sped off into the jungle horizon, I remember the words that Turi told me: "When you love someone, all you can do is be happy for them.  That's why I love you all as my children.  I teach you things in hopes that you will teach others and that the cycle of love continues on.  I will miss her.  She brought much happiness here and I know you will miss her too."

Love and goodness transcends all languages and Turi understood that.  He was right though, I did miss her, and for the rest of the day I was in a bit of slump longing for my island friend yet all the while being so happy for her.  My heart broke with her departure, but slowly healed knowing that I was fortunate enough to know her for the little amount of time I did.

The waves from the boat slowly calmed, the putter of the motor boat gone from earshot.... silence fell over the camp while we all sent waves of gratitude towards our newly freed comrade.

Food, Fantasies, and Friends Chapitre 7

So after a week of Thanksgiving family chaos and an extra 5 lbs of oinkage added to my body, I can finally get back to writing...

So those days while Heidi was there weren't all doom and gloom, to be completely honest, they were some of the most enlightening days on the island; I did feel a need to share my pseudo negative experience with her because it helped the rest of us bond and become a closer unit through all of our turmoil.

Within the first three days of dealing with Hurricane Heidi, I had helped release some hatchlings to sea, patrolled the beaches more times than I can count, and became better friends not only with my garden family but also with those of Widecast.  The thing I loved about the patrols was that for the most part, we were always paired with people that we shared some kind of connection with, be it culturally, linguistically and so on; my partner in crime for most of my patrols was Vanessa.  Out of all the places in the world she could be living in, I found out that only about 30 miles separated us back in Georgia!  What would the odds be of that??!!?!

Needless to say, her and I went on many a patrols at night.  Aside from the creepy factor that you're sharing the beach and crossing paths with poachers in the middle of the night, the patrols were difficult on the body.  We could rarely if ever use our white light so as not to give off our locations on the coast, instead our night vision bulbs when used occasionally would guide us.  For those who don't know what a night vision bulb is, it's the red light that emits from your headlamps, if your light has that option; apparently I learned that the color red is the closest shade of light that one can use at night to be able to see properly.  I don't know who came up with that, since I was always blind as a bat with or without that damned red fog of a light.  My night vision bulb showed me illuminated perhaps enough to see a foot in front of me, if that; I think I would've had better luck marching the shore holding a candle.

Besides the little light we were offered, we also had to deal with the sea storms that could be brutal, branches, rocks and just the sheer fear of utter darkness.  Looking at the ocean from afar makes me respect her already; but being right next to her while being guided by whatever moonlight if any, or dinky night vision bulb, scared the living shit out of me.  We were always safe with each other while patrolling, making sure everyone was okay and not too deep into the tide if at all and such, but working in darkness while running on very little sleep played with your depth perception.  After an hour or so, a tree that seemed to be a five minute walk away, turned out to be a thirty minute hike. 

Yet with all the obstacles and challenges that patrolling brought with it, the bonds and camaraderie that was formed would forever be priceless.  Like I said earlier, Vanessa and I went on a good few patrols before Heidi showed up, and within the first three days of her stay, I felt like I had a made a true connection with my fellow patrol buddy.  So much so, that I was able to experience something that I hadn't yet done while on that piece of land: I ate cereal!!!!  I remember one particularly rainy night coming back from patrol; we were both tired and I was dreading the hike back to the garden because my legs were shaking so much.  I was essentially running on whatever little fumes I had left in my tank, when Vanessa looked at me and said, "You want something to eat?"  For a second I thought I was delirious.  "How could this girl offer something to eat?!?!  It's not like they have an open kitchen or anything!"  These thoughts were racing through my head all the while the only response I could muster was, "Ummm food?!? Sure???"  I said it with a tone of uncertainty because I had no idea what she was talking about.

I had been in the hut for so long and had gotten so accustomed to not having anything that it completely slipped my mind that the other sites could have such luxuries.  She then took me to their kitchen, which was the first time I had ever even known about it, made me a bowl of some whole grain flakes or something, poured some powdered milk and water in the mix and handed it to me.  I looked at the mystery flakes as if I had just won the lottery, while feeling a tinge of betrayal; my comrades and I at the hut had survived so far on essentially three organic meals a day and coconuts, and here I was with a bowl of I could care less corn flakes and powdered milk.  "The hell with pride" I thought and plowed away at that bowl.  The sheer look of joy I had on my face said it all; I immediately scarfed down those processed grains while glorifying it all at once.  Looking back at that moment, I don't know if Vanessa was more confused by my reaction or freaked out that one could enjoy cereal oh so much.  Out of all of my patrols, that one speck in time was definitely a memorable one.

To release hatchlings into the ocean I'll admit, didn't seem like a big deal to me.  By the time of the Hurricane, I had already released one set of mini flippers with a rambunctious crowd of school children anxiously observing the whole ceremony.  That first release however happened on my third day of being part of the garden, so I hadn't invested the time and energy into the cause just yet to appreciate it all.  The second release of baby turtles felt like such a win for me.  By this point, I had many hours of patrolling and guarding the hatchery under my belt; I felt like I had contributed to the group this time around, so seeing these little fellas flipping and flapping their way to the water was a proud moment for this volunteer.  If people only knew the dozens of obstacles these little guys will have to face until they mature enough to lay their own eggs, folks would begin to understand the challenge it is to maintain a healthy population of these reptiles.  Until they turn roughly twenty years old, every day for these turtles will be like being part of the Hunger Games.  Regardless of the challenges that lay b
efore them, we still sent off each little turtle with waves of positivity, hope and love; we can only hope that some will make it back in the next two decades to continue this cycle.

With so many good things coming together through the struggles at our site, it broke my heart to have to see Jessica and Jennifer go.  Three days with Heidi present and a week in all with Carol and I, it was time for our two German comrades to leave and enjoy life off this piece of land that had brought them so many surprises.  It was painful to see them leave, I felt like I was losing two younger sisters; by this point I had become quite protective of all the roomies in the hut.  Call it what you will, whether it's machismo or genuine concern, I watched over everyone there like an older brother.  As life and short lived tradition would have it, we sent them off in the best way we could: a party. 

As cliche as it sounds, every cloud does have its silver lining, and this cloud was no different... We were losing two people that brought much energy to our site, while earlier that same day, receiving two other new recruits that would take their place in the hut; so this particular party had a few reasons to be joyous, and it was made sure that all were celebrated.  The rum was poured and the laughter could be heard down the road; for that brief moment, we were all that mattered in the world and we lived it with love, joy and drinks.  This celebratory night became the beginning of some beautiful friendships...

Food, Fantasies, and Friends Capitulo 6

From my earlier descriptions of our site, one can see that things were never ideally perfect, however our bond as a group is what kept us together.  We all helped each other out through the adjustment period and made sure that everyone saw the light at the end of the tunnel.  None of us had a choice; as things started to break down, we had to depend on each other for a


lot of everyday necessities.  By the time that Heidi had arrived, that familial bond had been developed between myself and my three female roomies.  Within a period of a few short days we had already measured each other up, noticed the strengths and weaknesses of everyone in the pack and made things work.  Honestly it took some effort from us all, but it turned out perfect.  With the arrival of Heidi is where the scales started to tip...

Friendship and trust were the keys to one's survival here.  We were isolated, alone and disconnected from the modern world; teamwork is a concept we all openly accepted and did our best to embrace.  What came to be my one week experience with her seemed to put a strain on everyone over the passing few days.  Honestly I don't think that she was ever ready for the "culture shock" of the island and all that came with it; that part is understandable, because hell, we all went through that same phase.  The difference is that we were all able to see the good in everything and with that, overcome any fears or trepidations we had buried within ourselves.

Those first three days were a bit brutal with her for the sole reason that we did our best giving her positive reinforcement essentially any time we had with her whether alone or in a group.  After that three day trial however, patience was starting to wear thin, and her complete sense of disconnect wasn't helping.  Don't get me wrong, I along with the rest of the roomies, wished that we could all jive together and sing kumbayah while playing twenty rounds of UNO, but not everyone is built for this experience.  That's fine.  With her though, it was brutal. 

As her stay with us progressed, it was the first time I had felt any tension and stress within our family; the need to constantly hold her hand through the transitioning drained us all mentally while picking up her shifts patrolling the beach or the hatchery depleted what was left of us physically.  We were always there for each other, because we cared about one another and it showed by our everyday interactions.  What looked like an extra pair of hands to help with the place, turned to be an extra load of weight that we later seemed to want distance from; that's what eventually happened.

The scariest part to me wasn't the fact that distance seemed to be created between her and the pack, but that we were somehow stepping away from each other.  The shadow of negativity that never seemed to leave Heidi, felt like it was slowly starting to overshadow our group completely.  She was the elephant in the room, whether she was present or not, and that's what became dangerous.  When some one's presence can wield so much energy but in such an awkward way, something has to be done.  Yet there lays the problem: nothing could be done.  We were all together for the X amount of time that we were all designated to be on the island; granted one could always leave sooner than their planned exit date, but no one had that intention on their mind.  So we did the best we could with the cards we were dealt.

Come Sunday night of the 20th, somewhere in the area of 2am after a grueling night patrol, Heidi and I are heading back to our base camp, when THUNK!  Heidi screams and I just freeze for a second, not knowing what had just happened.  "That's it!!  I'm getting a boat in the morning and getting out of here!" She screamed, me still bewildered and teetering on the point of exhaustion, struggled to figure out what had just happened.  At the moment of her yelp, she apparently had stubbed her toe against a tree root.  Mind you, this late in the game, we had all stubbed our toes on any one of the million things on that piece of land possible; as for myself, my feet were so swollen that nothing phased me.  With the very little light being offered by my headlamp, noting that I there was too much cloud coverage to recharge my batteries earlier that day, we both saw that it was indeed a head on toe stubbing in progress; again though, painful, but nothing to really cry home about. 


True to her word though, that next morning while relaxing after our garden shift with the two new additions, a boat showed up and whisked her away.  It was odd because by this point my three other comrades had left and were replaced with two new ones, and yet I remember their departures being much more heart wrenching than this one.  We all said our goodbyes and waved her adieu from our earthen dock and that was it. 

She brought with her some laughter, yet was never able to fully embrace the energy of the island and of the people who tried so hard to help her see the good in it all.  While seeing her boat putter off into the river horizon, I sat there wishing her well on her journey with hopes that she would be able to embrace all her other traveling experiences with a more open and positive heart... to this day I still do. 

Food, Fantasies, and Friends Fifth Edition

Our new cadet was a bit taken aback by the mustiness and rustic nature of our digs, but she seemed to take it all in stride.  After giving her a few moments to let it all sink in, we were off for her tour of the whole island!  By this time I had become the new tour coordinator seeing that I could bounce in between languages and make sure everyone was able to communicate with each other; the last person that you would want to be given a tour by however, would be me.  I showed her everything and introduced her to everyone!  By the end of our whirlwind two hour adventure, I had shown her the good, the bad and the ugly.  The way I see it is, why bother not giving someone a truly realistic view of their surroundings and what they're getting themselves into?  Mission accomplished!

By the time I was done showing Heidi everything, she set off to explore and we all went back to our daily regimen.  Rice, beans, yucca.  Rice, beans, yucca.  Just like our entertainment and socializing had its staples, so did our meals.  These three ingredients were what kept us fed for the most part; some days we'd have thin pancakes, and others perhaps a noodle concoction, but for the most part it was rice, beans and yucca.  I was in heaven while everyone else had started to enjoy the grub as well, and as the days went on, the food became more and more interesting.  Cue our annoying rooster!

Like I've mentioned before in other posts, our food for the most part was organic and home grown from the garden; how Turi made such great meals with so little will always astound me.  At the end of the first week, tensions had started to rise amongst a few at the garden; our real coordinator was slacking in helping us if at all and Turi, besides being angered by Mauricio's lack of help, was also annoyed because of our ever disappearing poultry.  Unfortunately, we had no Rottweiler or a solid and secured fence line, so anyone and everyone could come and go as they pleased; that lack of security interestingly enough though is what connected us more with the neighborhood.  We still  locked the hut every time we left as a precaution.



So with this small air of insecurity and strife in the midst, I present to you the Caper of the Canoodling Cock!

It all started with the subtle disappearance of a chicken or two from our chicken coup, or so it was thought.  Turi at this point had reached a point of extreme annoyance; we could only offer as much help as we were able to, being that our good intentions highly surpassed our gardening abilities.  Mauricio was supposed to be the one who helped run the place efficiently, yet as the first week ended, we started to realize that it would mostly fall on us.  So Turi grabbed two of the neighborhood guys and myself for a mission to find this feisty fiend, all the while believing that the bird had been stolen; unfortunately with some of the distrust that developed around our side of the island, that wariness could be completely understandable.

We ended up going about a quarter of a mile down the road to a neighbor's house with news that the rooster had been spotted there.  Something I learned that struck me as really interesting though is the fact that instead of knocking on people's door to ask to be let in, everyone asked for permission from their gates or boundary markers.  You NEVER went into someones yard unannounced or without asking for permission; if no one was out front, you'd yell to get there attention, but no matter what, you never walked on their land without them approving first.  It seemed very old fashioned to me, but at the same time, I love the fact that even though many lived without much, they still respected each other and their land.  Human decency is such a beautiful thing, and confusing... but I'll get to that in another post.

Before I get to the the cock chase, I must say that this one particular neighbor had a beautiful home!!  Solid bamboo fencing, beautiful yard, big house with GLASS windows.  I had later come to find out that she was not only the representative of the island to the surrounding communities, but that she had also initiated the push to get this one little remote piece of land recognized by the neighboring towns; just with doing that, this madame deserved the utmost respect, and it was shown to her as we all took one step past her bamboo barricade.

 Most of the homes had access to the river's edge or the beach and this domicile was no different; in the back of her property, sitting calmly within the swamp was our rooster!  He apparently had created another family of chickens behind the backs of his other feathery females... this didn't bode too well with Turi.  Deeper into the swamp we all went, mud getting thick and deep, everyone trying to step on branches or rocks to stay afloat of the sludge.  I follow behind Turi as he lightly skips over the mud pits, years of experience under his belt, and then comes me, the out of town Brontosaurus.  I step on a rock and SQUISH!!!  Both my legs sink into the mud and God knows whatever else was hidden in all of that mess.  I let out a squeal and just powered my way out one slushy step at a time!  I wasn't so turned off about the mud as I was worried about what other creatures laid in there.  Oddly enough though, with my feet being as swollen and beat up as they were, the mud felt surprisingly great and refreshing.  It was that same squawk of mine that sent the rooster running and us going home bird less.  As with everything else, Turi's insurmountable optimism peeked its head and he told us not to worry, that the bird would be caught later that day.

Come the morning of the end of the first week, and we were presented with our prize: the adulterous rooster was held for all to see by Turi during breakfast!  The look on his face showed just how happy and vindicated he was with capturing this bird.  We applauded him and then continued with our meal; the end of that week was leaving us a bit beat up. 

At this point we were in full work mode, working two blocks of two hours in the garden and then up to ten hours in the other camp, plus having to help maintain our volunteer family together that starting to tear alittle at the seams; ripples were finally being felt in paradise and we had to work very hard not to let it conquer us all.

One weapon we had though that always seemed to get us through things was laughter, and at no other point during our meals did we laugh so hard than that following lunch, when we were presented with the remains of our adventurous rooster in a stew.  Some laughed out of horror seeing legs sticking out of their bowls while others laughed just out of instinct, needless to say, Turi told us that we would never be awoken again by our chronologically confused ex-comrade; it made the meal that much sweeter.

Food, Fantasies, and Friends Chapter Four

Rum, coconuts and UNO.... that was a party for us.  I use the term "party" very loosely, but it would probably be better if I said "get together."  We only had three of these little throw downs, but they were completely worth it.  The garden was on the other far end of the island, therefore we were quite isolated from the rest of the volunteers; Mauricio and the surrounding neighbors helped to make us feel that we were part of the community and cared about by having these little soirees at Mauricio's house.


 Our first party consisted of Jessica, Jennifer, Mauricio, two or three of his neighbors and myself.  We all met out at his dinner table and passed the night laughing and playing cards.  From an alcoholic's point of view, there was very little to offer aside from these small bottles of rum; for about 5,000 colones (roughly $10), we could get two bottles of rum and some warm beers that were bought somewhere on the island, which remained a mystery for some time.  It wasn't much, but again, it was something.  The best (or worst) part of it all was that the rum was consumed in shots; we had nothing to mix it with, so down the hatch it would go.  It was such a memorable night because that was the first moment that we all let ourselves go and just enjoyed each others company; it was these moments that helped create that sense of bond that we all needed to fight against those first few days of isolation.

The next morning though was a mess.  Being hungover, while working in pure heat and humidity was rough enough, but we had to deal with the aftermath of our mystery guests.  Who were these people you may ask?  Costa Rican survivalists.  Now let me be clear, I love meeting new people while on adventures, I get the good fortune to come across a whole slew of travelers from every walk of life; however, there's always one group that will always annoy me: the inconsiderate backpacker.  How you can be so self absorbed and yet backpack is beyond me.  In my eyes, one HAS to be considerate of others when going on these journeys, because those fellow backpackers you stumble upon can either make your stay memorable or a living hell; unfortunately, these folks wrecked the place in less than 24hrs.  They came, pillaged and left a smoldering infrastructure in their wake.

I know I may be sounding a bit dramatic, but like I've said before, we had very little staying in the garden; one of the few things we had going for us was our very basic water pipe system.  It essentially consisted of a gas powered generator that would have to be cranked whenever the water in the well was no more; one simple crank from the generator and water would come to a balance again and the heavens once again would sing.  When these survivalists left, they not only dried out our well, but mysteriously, our generator  broke; we then had to hand  pump the water from the well to the rest of the hut.  Granted, getting the water to pump wasn't such as hassle.... at first.  We'd start each with 25 pumps or so, so we could all take a quick shower and brush our teeth; yet as the days passed and heat increased, we had to pump substantially more, multiple times a day.  In the end though, no one said this was going to be a walk in the park, and this water debacle surely highlighted that point for us all.

The day of the water system breakage would go down in infamy: that was the first day I had my "First World" breakdown.  It was already rough dealing with this intense hangover mixed with the heat and work... I couldn't even take a shower to cool down.  The ocean water offered little solace due to the sun baking it in her rays; since we were already pumping whatever little water we had in the well for basic uses, there wasn't any to drink.  I remember that after doing my rounds at the pump, I gave it about fifty or so pumps in hopes of getting a nice cold shower, I run back to the hut, grab my towel and galloped to my liquid paradise.  What followed came to be one of the funniest moments for me while at the hut and one that my roomies would never let me live down....  "Fuuuuuucccckkkkk!!! " I screamed.  "Fuck this bullshit!  I need some fucking water!"  I barge out of the shower almost forgetting my towel, through our bathroom curtain/partition, quickly put on whatever clothes I have around, all the while my three roomates are looking at me like I'm crazy.  "What the hell's wrong with you?" Carol chirped at me.  "I'm too hungover for this shit!  I'm going to the compound for some fucking working water!" With that said, I stampeded out of the hut, no towel or man bag in tow and proceeded to trample down the path to the compound.

My mind was set on one thing: a shower!  Once I arrived at the ranch, I asked everyone if someone had a towel that I could borrow, being fully prepared to air dry after showering if necessary.  Fortunately someone was able to lend me a small piece of parchment for my hungover soul; I felt vindicated!!  I headed to that shower, cloth in hand, grabbed the sink soap and gloriously enjoyed my cold rain.  When I got back to the hut, I was greeted with laughs and a good healthy dose of mockery... it had finally happened: after almost a week of being on site, I had cracked.  I look back at it now and still laugh about it; I love backpacking and go with a mindset that anything can happen and usually does, but this one particular day I had had it, and it was served right back at me in healthier doses.

Even though I felt like I had slain some kind of dragon or something after that cold shower, it gave me a true dose of humility.  All of us at one point or another while on the island reached a breaking point; I can't speak for everyone else, but it was from these lowest moments of frustration that came the greatest sense of humility.  In the States we joke around about our "first world problems."  "Oh my $6 double slim, extra soy macchiato didn't come out right."  "My Iphone battery dies too soon" or "My wifi range is very limited."  We have a right to gripe and be frustrated about things.... we do.  However, how many of us say, "my bed has ants in it."  "We have no water."  "My lights don't turn on!  Oh wait, do I even have a light bulb?"   We truly don't realize how good we have it until we're placed somewhere that has nothing in comparison.  Had the compound not had running water it would have sucked, yes... but in the end, all I would've had to do is pump, and pump some more for our own well to bless us.  At that very moment, my frustration had hit its peak and I didn't want to work to get the water rolling; it was there the whole time, I just didn't WANT to put the effort in it anymore for it to function... It was one of the most humbling moments of my time there; everyone got there jabs in on me for it, well deserved I know, but I really learned an important lesson about gratitude that hungover and humid day.

As the first week was nearing its end, we all had become adjusted and hardened enough to handle and accept anything thrown our way.  Five days into my stay I felt like part of the cast of "Orange is the New Black,"  I had gone through all the stages of my cycle of acceptance and had come out stronger than I was when I first arrived... I think we all did; we were the veterans of the cell block.  It wasn't until that sixth day when our newest recruit had stepped foot on the island shore, from the look in her eyes, I could already tell how much I had evolved. By this point, I had become the pseudo coordinator/orientation leader; I shook her hand, bid her welcome and showed her the hut... all the while, bets were being placed.

Food, Fantasies, and Friends Tercera Parte

I remember waking up that next day tired yet refreshed.  I slept like a rock thanks to the utter exhaustion I had from the previous trip there.  This was my first time that I could explore the land with plenty of sunshine to spare; I quickly discovered how remote we really were. Turi had made us a phenomenal but simple breakfast; his meals were always small and simple but somehow got us through all of our shifts.

That morning I was taught the ropes of what we did on our end of the island and quickly discovered the joys of tropical isolation.  I can't lie, I didn't feel completely confident in my new surroundings until the next day, but nature and life showed me exactly what I was headed for, and it would turn out to be beautiful.  After I got to wet my beak in our gardening bubble I was sent over to the other site named Widecast. The trek is only around a mile and a half of distance, but I remember the first day  it took me about thirty minutes to complete.  Aside from the heat and humidity, I had been carrying with me a few extra pounds thanks to my friends and loved ones thinking I was going to starve while there. 

When I approached the Widecast camp, I lovingly called it the Compound, I was amazed. For one, there were a lot more people there than our site, which brought a whole other sense of energy to it. In the end though, I was surprised to see how developed it was. I took note of a highly developed solar panel system that not only powered the outside light bulb but also the rooms, while supplying them with power outlets as well. To top it off, they had a fridge! A fridge!!! I felt like I had died and awoken somewhere else. For all intensive purposes, this place looked like a resort; yet even with all these luxuries, I still would prefer to stay in our simplistic site any day of the week.   Loyalty has to run a little more than skin deep right?

At the compound is where I received all my training for the turtle effort. I learned how to dig nests, spot turtle tracks, how to mark grown turtles, among a whole slew of things all turtle related.  My second night there I was treated to the wonderful midnight to 4am beach patrol shift in the dreaded Sector A.  Before I go into the patrols, I feel the need to clarify something: patrolling a beach is not a walk in the park.  I know that for so many a stroll down a sandy beach brings to mind memories of romance, love and great chick flicks, but let's not forget to add in the ever shifting sands, tree stumps and roots to stub your toes with, random thunder and lightning storms and IF you're lucky, the hauling of about 20 or so pounds of turtle eggs for a few miles.  Patrolling was exhausting!  Sector A was the worst because with having to walk that one segment of the beach, not only were you walking the longest stretch of distance, but you also had to go through Sector B to get there. If you didn't finish your patrol soaking wet, you definitely finished it exhausted; yet that was part of the fun!  The work in both sites was tough and grueling, yet you always left with a sense that you truly did something good in the world. 

Between juggling both sites, the days consisted of work, hammocks and coconuts.  The first two days for me were just that first midnight patrol and training, so I did have some down time to at least rest my feet. I remember being on the hammock my second day thinking to myself, "I need something to do!!"  Here I am, believing myself to be pretty laid back, itching just to do something.  That nagging itch taught me something though... understanding. 

Over here in the States, we have this want or need to just stay busy; we don't allow ourselves the luxury of just being and absorbing it all in. On the island it was just that; everyone worked hard and was tired, so why not relax when you could? I didn't think it would bother me so much to just sit there and be still, but that same tranquility that I try to always seek was the same serenity that brought my chaos. It took me about four days to finally come to terms with the island mentality, but when I did, my view on everything changed.  I began to see the island for what it was... Paradise.

When you sit down and finally accept the differences in situations, you learn to see the beauty in it all. I was on a piece of land that for all intensive purposes, didn't exist, with no wifi, power, hot water etc... and I loved it!  

As the first week was slowly coming to an end, I would find myself waking up and just laying by the hammocks with a freshly broken coconut, sipping away at its juice while writing in my journal or staring off into the ocean sea. I truly was alone. I would just sometimes close my eyes and listen to water crashing against the sand, no cars or noises to distract me from these small moments of nirvana that I was experiencing.  The island was a challenge to crack at first, yet the effort was worth it; because of her I learned more about myself than I ever could back home.  

It was being alone that forced me to tap into myself, to open myself to new people, experiences and knowledge. Within that first week, I had already helped rescue some turtle eggs on my first patrol, guarded the hatchery, weeded fields with shovels and met some great people that I would consider to be like a second family.  You see, being in the middle of nowhere forces you to change your mentality on life in general.  I believe that everyone goes through the same cycle of thoughts when waking up on a remote piece of land: isolation, doubt, self realization, and growth.  The doubt stage was for me the toughest one to get through; that mystery of whether or not you'd be able to make it through your stay could eat at you for days until that make or break point hit you.  But if you were able to break through that phase, it was only happiness that awaited; we had one volunteer in our group that couldn't get past stage 1, but that's the way it goes sometimes. 

If you compared our group with the volunteers at the compound, we would jokingly say that those at the hut roughed it out more.   Yet we weren't all nails and steel; some of the best times at our site were around the dinner table or hammocks. We would reminisce about our favorite foods, and what we missed back home and such... it was some sadomasochism at its finest.  

When it came to food though, we couldn't complain. Turi treated us very well when it came to grub. All of our food was grown from the garden or freshly killed at the tip of a machete or fish net. We had three meals a day at specific hours, yet as the days passed and with our workload getting much heavier at times, we had to figure out ways to sneak in our gathering times at the kitchen table; remember, we had no microwaves or anything like that to reheat food or preserve it.

What we lacked technologically in the hut we far made up with in camaraderie.  As our stay progressed, we had to rely on each other more and more for everyday basic needs, yet we also had the pleasure of getting to meet most of the locals around the island.  It was the locals, with the help of our coordinator Mauricio, that helped us enjoy the social aspect of the island community; it was with our first party that we got a small glimpse into that world....

Food, Fantasies, and Friends Part Deux

THUNK!  The sound the boat made when we hit land's edge; I looked around just taking it all in.  I was greeted by a very cheery old man who was lovingly called Turi by the volunteers.  He was the owner's older brother who tended to the garden, vegetation and cooking; did I forget to mention this kind man is 63 years old?  He gave me a tour of the land, myself not really knowing what to expect, just followed quietly taking note of everything. 

I came with the impression that this project was part of a turtle preservation effort, which it was... somewhat.  In reality, it was a small self sustaining garden, whose alter ego helped with the turtle preservation movement.  So as the week went on, I slowly learned that we were to be split working literally on two separate ends of the island. 

With the tour, Turi showed me the ropes on the pump, kitchen routine, where I would be 
sleeping and just the general vicinity of the community on that end of the land; he was extremely kind to me that first meeting and just so gentlemanly about everything.  Suffice it to say I was very grateful for his kindheartedness. 

The property consisted of a small parch of land that was loosely enclosed with barbed wires attached to bamboo or any other pieces of wood one can jam into the ground.  Passing that rustic boundary one would walk past Turi's house, a small lagoon and then the dorm room which I affectionately called, "the Hut."  Passed the hut there was just about a half acre of different rows of crops being prepped to be placed in the soil for the upcoming season; behind these crops was our small and ant occupied kitchen and table.  I remember that during the meals, there would be so many ants present, they'd either bite you or became extra protein in our food or water. 

When I've described this garden to friends, everyone has a had an interesting time imagining the luxuries or lack thereof on site.  This place by any stretch of the imagination was simple.  No power, hand pumped well water, thinly made bunk beds, a PVC shower tube and the list can go on...  Yet...

I've never been happier. 

I remember the first night there was a joyful time, because it was my birthday, but it was also extremely isolating.  When I arrived that day I was introduced to my three female roommates: Jessica and Jennifer from Germany and Carol from Canada.  All three of them were great people and as the days turned to weeks, we became a very close knit family; I felt though that I connected much better with Carol, as to the reason why it could be any one's guess.  That first dinner though was just fabulous!  It was a very simple, organic and home grown meal that contained what would eventually become part of our staple of food: rice, beans and plantains.  I've been raised on this typical harvest so I was in heaven, but I'm sure the girls grew tired of it after a while.  Besides being my first meal as part of the island crew, what was memorable about that night was that the whole group offered me their extra servings of plantains as a birthday present. 

I'm sure you're thinking, "what good is an extra serving of plantains?"  The answer is... everything.  Remember how I said we had no power?  That includes no fridge, no microwave, no modern form at all of reheating or even maintaining food, so our meals were always fresh and always limited.  Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, we didn't have the luxury of having extra foods lying around or anything of that nature; it lead to us all cherishing our meals and being grateful for whatever was served in front of us.  It definitely goes without saying, that there were some days one or more of us looked upon our dishes with odd looks of disgust or fascination, but everything was always eaten and enjoyed.  If for some reason or another, one didn't finish their meals, the rest of us would swoop in like vultures to help out in the digestive team effort; when we started having to do beach patrols and gardening, we ate whatever we could just to have the energy to get through the day.  But those are stories for another day.

After breaking plantains and singing a round of "Happy Birthday", we all retreated to the hut; at that point it was about 6:45pm and the night had fallen hard.  I remember that first starless night there, the moon was absent, as were the stars, yet the howler monkeys were screaming in choruses.  That night, the isolation hit me....

I love my adventures and I love exploration, but everywhere I've gone, I've had the opportunity to get in touch with family and friends, be it by phone, wifi or passenger pigeon; here on this island, that wasn't the case.  Jessica and Jennifer left shortly after dinner to go to the other project (mentioned in future posts) to patrol the beach while Carol and I enjoyed a night in to just setup our beds, minds and expectations to our present situation. 

Without any power, I set out to unpack my things, trusty headlamp being my only illuminating savior.  While setting up my bed, Carol and I spoke about our lives, what we left behind, what we were expecting here and just everything in between.  Within an hour, I had locked up my valuables, set up my mosquito net and dug up my ear plugs; I remember being so exhausted that night jumping from bus to bus to boat to island all in a matter of a few hours. 

Before I ended up passing out, I decided to write some, and just journal my thoughts down onto paper... honestly it was the only thing I could do to keep my head straight.  I don't know why, but that first night was horribly difficult for me; I was utterly disconnected from the world and anything could've happened to me and no one would have ever known.  Hell, the closest coordinates to that site are to a town 2.5 hours away! 

Carol had arrived the previous night, so she seemed to have already adapted to the environment; as for me, I just wrote and wrote, and wrote some more, all the while trying to keep my thoughts positive.  Did I make the right decision to come here?  Where was I?  Would anyone hear me scream if something happened? 

These all seem like dumb questions now, but with the isolation and pure darkness that fell upon us that night, all my mind did was wander into a not so happy place.  Yet with all those thoughts in tow, by 8:30p I was out like a light!  I didn't wake up until the 6am the following morning.  I had slept almost ten hours, monkeys and all without once stirring...

 I woke up to a beautiful early morning on an island that I first feared, but would slowly fall in love with.

Food, Fantasies and Friends Pt. 1

I remember looking up places to go to for my annual excursion and thinking about Costa Rica.  Most everyone I had spoken with had only praises to say about this piece of land.  The more I thought about it, the more I felt a voice in my head whispering to me to go there; that for whatever reason this voyage was going to take me somewhere only time would reveal.  So I did just that.  I filled my backpack with everything I could think of, grabbed my phone (for pictures), journal and plane ticket, then onward!

The anxiety didn't kick in until I was at the airport.  Sure I was beyond excited to go to this new country and volunteer for causes I hold near to me, yet that small little voice of doubt kept peaking its head at the worst of times.  "I wasn't going to make it back with my sanity intact."  "I forgot something."  "Some kind of calamity will happen when I land."  All little thoughts, last second attempts by my self doubt that were trying to lay some kind of claim in my head and within my spirit.  In response, I sat down, buckled my seat belt, and while looking out the window of the plane, told myself that everything was going to be fine.

See I always tend to get that split second of doubt before taking that final leap.  It's probably due to the fact that I always travel alone and in the most unusual of journeys.  Ideally I would like to travel with someone, be it a friend, partner or even a stranger I come across, just to be able to share the stories that always seem to come from my voyages; until then however, I just travel alone and try my best to soak everything I can from each trip, all the while doing my best to see if there are some signs that come across my way.

So for my 7th year in a row, I head off on this plane to a country which has had only praises thrown its way from others, yet remained a mystery to me....

I landed in San Jose and it was definitely not what I expected.  For the equivalent of $1, I grabbed the bus from the airport and was zoomed down to the central bus terminal.  While there, I was hustled by vendors every which way I turned.  Besides my backpack being the clear sign that I was an "outlander", I also towered over the majority of the folks around me.  I had been told such wonderful things about Costa Rica by so many, and yet those same people told me to not set my expectations too high for San Jose.  Yes, San Jose is the capital and urban core of the country, so it didn't surprise me that it was different from the rest of its national brethren; the noise and graffiti however did surprise me!  I found some beautiful artwork sketched on many of the old walls of this core, while others were just plain tags; however from this graffiti I felt a strong sense of political expression and this undertone of change and frustration.  When that hit me, I began to find a new found respect for the value of it all.  The noise though was another thing.  The city is just plain noisy, no way to put it any differently.  In the end though, what else can you expect when living in a country's capital?

It took me about two hours walking from the central terminal to find the hostel I was going to stay the night in.  Why two hours?  Well I was eventually told that San Jose had recently gotten street signs; before then, there were no real street names, so monuments, parks, churches and any other semi permanent landmark were used as directional beacons for the lost and wandering.  Bus terminal to Manuel Antonio?  "Oh go to the main street and take a right at that gold looking building over there."  That was the typical response I would get from people when I looked for the hostel.  No one really knew where it was, no matter how much good willed effort they put into helping me.  My one address was 150 meters north of Parque Morazan.  That was it.  Thank God I had that one landmark to go with because if not, I would've been royally screwed.

After I finally reached the hostel (having no door signs but just a simple profile of Van Gogh for a banner), I drudged upstairs exhausted and ready for some kind of bed or just rest.  The nice desk attendant was kind to me and explained to me the rules of the land, which I promptly filed in the back of my head under the "Just Tell Me Where to Put My Bag" tab.  The hostel like most hostels I've been to had a lot of character and a very relaxed vibe to it.  That night my only hostel mate was a Texan named Josh, who had originally traveled to Nicaragua to help a friend with a boat business, and just decided to drop anchor temporarily in Costa Rica.  We spoke about many things, one being our mutual passion of traveling, and he showed me around the capital.  On our walk throughout town, I became well acquainted with what was the typical, if not timely mannered rain storms that would flood the city on an almost daily basis.  I also had the pleasure of visiting a small flea market that I had no luck finding on the last day of my trip, and enjoyed a meal in this small little bar off of la Avenida Central.

I got back to the hostel, enjoyed the last hot shower I would have in almost three weeks, chatted some more with my roomie and crashed for the night; the next day was going to be rough. 

Dreading the possible goose chase I'd have to do to find the outgoing bus terminal to Siquirres, I woke up with two hours to spare the following morning.  Just as I had thought, I had to stop and ask for directions a few times, fearing that possible visual cues had been changed on my route to this terminal.  I finally made it with about twenty minutes to spare and proceeded to fold myself into my bus seat.  By the time I had somehow managed to squeeze into position, I looked like a human origami piece; the poor lady next to me having to deal with my legs rubbing up against hers. 


Around two hours later I had arrived at Siquirres, only to have to look for the next bus terminal in some horribly humid weather.  I learned a very important lesson just in transitioning from one terminal to another...  Over here in the US, we are accustomed to looking for specific structures or signs that translate into some kind of universal indication of a bus stop, terminal or subway station.  In Costa Rica however, I realized that a bus terminal could look like an everyday bus station to a small driveway of sorts; it all depends on the town and its layout.  So here I was looking for this bus terminal, when the whole time I had been walking circles around it without even noticing it was even there. 

I bought my ticket and waited patiently for the bus to show up; while I sat there people watching I observed a pretty curious sight.  There was this man who seemed to be a bit out of his wits, walking around and singing the chorus of some religious song, over and over again.  While doing this, he was pushed away from a corner shop and threatened by a pretty big mural of a guy with a wooden stick that apparently worked at said shop.  I looked around at all the people at the terminal to try and gauge their reactions, and I mostly saw this unspoken nervousness.  The annoying singer was about to get his head swatted off by a giant!  Laughter soon followed though because as much as the giant with the makeshift bat wanted to hurt him, the punishment never came.  The man just continued singing and stumbling around, and eventually left.  The whole situation stunned me though, because of how it was treated.  No one pulled out cell phones and started recording it or provoked some kind of violent response from either side.  Nothing.  People watched in silence at first, then chuckled when they realized no harm was going to be done by anyone; it just made me think, would that situation have occurred like that in the states?  I'd like to hope so, that humanity and its flaws would be respected somehow, but unfortunately I doubt it would have unraveled the same way.


After that awkward incident, the bus appeared and we were off to Las Vegas, my last stop before heading to the island.  After about a 45 minute bus ride, I was at the drop off site for the boat.  Two gentlemen directed me to the vessel that would take me to the island, handed me a life jacket and off we went.  Along the way we picked up what I gathered was a friend of theirs who had been stranded with his bike somewhere along the river bed.  I sat for about 30 minutes taking in the sight of the land speeding past me while the wind blasted my face and the water pelted my body.  I didn't know what to expect when I arrived, but when that boat pulled up to land I took one big breath and said to myself, "this is it."

Closer The Trail Arises

Well it has begun... the three day countdown has commenced.  Even though my expedition to Costa Rica in and of itself is an adventure, the preparation of it has been an eye opening journey as well.  Like I said in the beginning a few months back, I decided to live through this adventure on my birthday; it seemed to be a fitting way to reset and just become in tune with life around me. 

A new year and a new journey; yet this trip I feel is only part of a change I've been going through.  This past year has been a bit tumultuous at best, yet for every challenge that has come my way I've walked away stronger.  I've spent most of this past year dealing with injury, the constant wheel go round of fair weather friends, and a stint of existential struggle; for it all though it's all proven to show me that I can surmount any obstacle put in my path.  If there's been one lesson I could say I've learned, it's the pathway to perseverance.  My shoulder I still deal with and have to respect when it tells me to slow down, but because of it, I've come across a group of friends that not only want to see me succeed, they'll push me to boundaries I never I thought I could get to.  For the friends I've lost or had to step away from, I've been fortunate enough to find others who have shown me that I'm worth something and that I don't need to be so weary of those who I cross in life.  As for my existential crisis... Costa Rica has provided me that direction.

Not to sound like a broken record from my past blogs, but I do believe in signs, and this trip to Costa Rica is just one more in the infinite space of life to come my way.   Had I not researched this journey and found the organization that I've become affiliated with, I would never in my wildest dreams found the possible pathway to what may be the happiness I've sought so much for in my life's direction. 

This trip will strip me to my bones in more ways than one; the amazing part is, I can't wait!  All my journeys have taught me something about myself, yet for all their differences of setting, travel, etc... they all have one thing in common: unpredictability.  For each trip I've had a starting point and a destination, but between those two spots, unpredictability always has laid claim; the difference between my journey to Costa Rica and all my other trips, is that I'll be completely disconnected from the modern world.  It'll be as if I'm in a modern day, small village setting of Castaway; instead of a painted volleyball though, I'll be surrounded by a very small group of people with no real access to what many see as everyday life.  If I was a fatalist, I could say that this isolation mixed with the unpredictability of this trip might not be the best idea out there; however, I tend to be more of an optimist and think that by being so separated from modern day distractions, I'll be able to tune more into myself and into the world around me.

One of my biggest flaws I can say without a doubt is that I put too much pressure on myself.  I struggle with the fact that I disappoint others or don't reach their expectations.  It's hard to admit our flaws at times, but this is one that I still do struggle with.  My shoulder swells up, I have to stop going to practice until it heals; I struggle with the idea of being a disappointment to my class.  I've had the same job for the last ten years because I haven't found the inner courage to truly seek what makes me happy; I struggle with the idea that my friends and family have achieved so much in life.  I've been called a dreamer with no real direction; I struggle with the idea that I'm in my 30's and don't know what I want to do with the years ahead of me.  These are are all doubts and burdens I set upon myself and that I face everyday...

Yet something is changing....

I'm learning to face these pressures head on and see the positivity in it all.  I may have had my struggles this past year, yet things seem to be looking up.  I'm looking forward to this trip because with its mystery and simplicity, I feel that I was meant to be exactly where I am right now.  That this trip was supposed to happen.  That I was supposed to struggle with many inner demons.  That the fog of confusion in self doubt was meant to pass by to help me see things a bit clearer. 

Through it all, this past year has been tough, but I've also seen what I can overcome and the beautiful people and souls that have come into my life or have been there the whole time and I was just too blind to see them; for it all and for them, I'm so grateful. 

I start this year with a trip that is meant to test me, yet one that I'm doing what I can to give back to this world that's blessed me with its tidings; the point of the journey is to help a group bring positive light to the life we live, yet maybe it's this same organization and the path I've taken to get to them, that has helped me to see the illumination within myself. 

9 Volts and Rising

So it's been a minute since my last Costa Rican update aside from my short updates on my Fund Me page.  Confession: I've just been gathering up my supplies little by little these last two weeks (I'm a big techie nerd on the inside).  I'm just a few items short of completing my list, but with some items I've come to realize how truly independent one can be if they wanted to be.  For example, I purchased a GoalZero solar panel and charger.  Not only does this let me power some electronics with the help of Mother Nature, but I can also charge up AA and AAA batteries to also use to run other items.  I add that with my solar powered UV water sterilization pen, and I'm just a poster child for solar energy.

Something that I've come to learn that I can also power with the help of this panel is my GoPro Silver camera.  If you don't what this is I highly recommend you check out their site: www.gopro.com  In short, it's pretty much an indestructible HD camera that you can use for all kinds of adventures.  I wasn't for the idea at first, but since this journey is not one I do everyday, I decided that to share it I would have to get it on tape... or in this case, SD card.  The plus side for me is that again, it's a pretty tough object as long as it remains in its water proof case.  The only setback I see is that it can only take up to 64gb on a micro SD card; so I've had to buy a few of those since I'm not taking my computer along with me to upload the video.  If you're clumsy like me or want a camera that can take a beating while recording great quality footage, check out the GoPro website and see what works for you.

A quick side note: I feel the need to say this to just clarify that my fundraising campaign isn't to raise money for this equipment; this gear is for more long term use than just this trip, so I would never find it fair to ask people to help me buy things that I intend to use more than once.  I'm sure my credit card company is throwing a party every time my card slides through those purchase machines though.  The only funds I'm trying to raise are the ones needed to get to Costa Rica, to register and keep myself afloat nutritionally speaking and if there's any extra, to donate the rest to the program.  Now back to the tech stuff...

Besides my techie side being completely blown away and amazed, it didn't hit me until I got home with my booty that I realized how much space I save with summer backpacking gear.  I prefer to backpack and camp in the fall/winter seasons because of the cooler air; the problem with that is that your equipment takes up significantly more room in your pack.  My new sleeping bag, inflatable pillow, head lamp and mosquito netting take up about a fifth of my 45lbs pack.  It works great for me because now I do have room for the clothes I've yet to buy, my camel pack and other necessities.

Since I'm bringing you up to speed on equipment and such, I'll try to stick to that topic instead of bouncing around to others.  At the end of day, my list of provisions has somewhat represented my whole way of being for this trip, ever evolving and growing.  If anything has come from this prepping phase of my journey, it's this: with technology and creativity, one can be on their own for a substantial amount of time.  I'm not necessarily talking about being Tom Hanks in Castaway and towing a volleyball around, but with the right equipment and preparation, independence can be had.  It's just a matter of how you balance your imagination and creativity with your needs.

As much as I tend to rag on technology and essentially trying to disconnect myself from it when I go on my journeys, it's that same technology now (among other things) that's allowing me to share my stories and adventures with others.  For example, I need a way to charge the batteries for my headlamp... BAM!  Solar panel saves the day!  I'm too clumsy and my pack takes too much of a beating for me to even ponder the idea of buying a $1000+ camera... BAM!   The GoPro.  The list goes on...  What amazes me about it all though, is that it's simply amazing how much one can do with something just as simple as the sun.

What I struggle with most with technology honestly is the idea of always being "wired" or just "on".  In this day and age where it's all Facebook and Twitter all the time, it's nice to get away from things, whether you're in the middle of the jungle doing volunteer work or in the Tibetan mountains meditating.  I've never liked the idea of always having to be connected and such; over these last few years though, I equated technology with just that: a manner to communicate and socialize.  However THIS time around, I wont be using technology as a means to socialize and communicate, but more so to record and catalog my journey, all the while relying on all my gadgets to help eventually tell the story of this trip.  I can't lie, being away from our wired and instant messaging way of being brings me a bit of relief.  Sometimes we all have to get away from our electronically commissioned social worlds and enjoy what life has to offer us in the flesh.

Life's Alarm Clock

So I want to start this off by saying thank you.  Thank you to those who have been supporting me on this journey however they've been able to; there is still some time left before my trip to raise more funds and just sort out some things, but I'm truly grateful for all of the support I've been given.

Instead of really talking about this journey to Costa Rica, I'm going to tell you what goes through my head every time I think about it.  Charity.  Change.  Adventure.  Freedom.  Simplicity.  I could go on and on with descriptive adjectives about my thoughts, but those about sum it up.  I look back at the last few years of my life and I've realized something: I've given ten years of my days on this Earth to the same job.  TEN YEARS!!! Putting it into perspective, I'm about to turn 33 while being in Costa Rica, so that essentially means I've given a third of my life to one company.  The only other institution or group who had those many consecutive years of my being has been my family, and I can promise you they probably weren't my best ones.  Being the youngest sibling did have some advantages to it.  ;-) 

Yet it's been over these last five years that I've been able to take advantage of some solitude within these years of employment and just discover what makes me tick and what I want to do to help contribute to this globe.  I've written about this topic before, but I am a person of signs and energy; for whatever reason, I feel that life is trying to point me in a clearer direction.  Why has it taken me so long to see this?  I really don't know.  It could be because I was in a dark place for years, or perhaps I didn't have the vision necessary to see what life was laying before me.  Perhaps I was just too scared to question my life. 

Do I have the answers to all of life's questions and mysteries?  I wish I did, yet I'm glad I don't.  It allows there to be adventures, challenges and even uncertainties presented to us all.  I don't know what Costa Rica will bring, but I do feel that it will be an important stepping stone to getting me closer to that ledge that holds God only knows what.  I have to admit right now that I'd be lying if I said I'm ready to take the leap and just see where I land; I'm still working things out to where I can, but as a consequence of setting my earlier nomadic ways aside, I've picked up a few permanent and semi-permanent stragglers along the way.  I have to have faith though that this adventure will only bring me good and that for whatever reason, perhaps it's all meant to be played out this way.

I hope that throughout this whole process and my writings of it, you will perhaps walk away from it all with your own sense of growth.  I want to not only share this adventure with you, but I also want you to look into yourselves and see what makes you happy.  If you're already doing everything that brings you joy then I'm elated for you!!!  Maybe you can offer me some tips!  And for those who are searching just as I am, I say to you this: don't ever stop striving for that happiness.  It could be in front of you this whole time, or perhaps in a far off land or in another job, but never think that you don't deserve to be or pursue whatever makes you happy. 

As for me, I know I'm content with my life and consider myself very fortunate; however my spirit needs to be fed and nourished through way it only know how to be.  So come join me!  Let's take this journey together, even if our paths are very different, we can all still use each others love and support to carry on.