costa rica day 6 | the caribbean coast

Today, Zan and I had one of the best experiences yet on this trip. There were caves and coral, reefs and waves, jungle and ocean. And all it cost us was the price of bus ticket.

"All this fun for $2," I joked to Zan while we slid through mud and carefully stepped over tree roots in bare feet. "I feel like I won Costa Rica!"

I have been obsessed with how expensive Costa Rica is so it really did feel like a victory...

We slept until 7:30, the latest of the entire trip. We had a lazy morning reading in bed (ahem, looking at our phones), before an equally lazy buffet breakfast at the hotel. There were homemade banana pancakes that were divine. We decided to take the 9:45am public bus out to Manzanillo, a small fishing village and beach town with a large wildlife refuge about 10 miles from Puerto Viejo. The bus showed up at 10:15 -- everything really does run on Caribbean time!

Zan had been unsure if he wanted to go to Manzanillo, but one of the very friendly hotel convinced him, more so than I could. I had read about an 8km hike along the coast to Punta Mona nad wondered aloud to her if it was safe (I also read about a robbery on the trail), if we could do it alone, and if we needed to hike the entire way. Excitedly, she pointed to a spot on our map of the area, saying it's only a 2-3km hike to reach a stunning lookout point and to see a giant rock that has become the iconic image of Manzanillo and this portion of Costa Rica's Caribbean coast. I had read about caves along the hike and hoped to find a few of those, too.

Finding the trail was easy; the path that ran through town essentially ran into it. A Dutch couple introduced themselves, and the four of us hiked together. It had rained the night before, and the trail was slick with mud. We all had to use our hands - and lend hands to the others - for leverage at the steepest, most slippery parts. The trail ran along the coast, with the sound of the waves on one side and verdant, overgrown jungle on the other.

We reached the lookout quickly, and it was every bit as beautiful - and even more - than we'd hoped. The giant rock emerged from the ocean floor after an earthquake in 1991, and now it stands about 20 feet tall in the ocean, waves lapping at its base and spray shooting several feet in the air. We gingerly stepped on the spiky coral rocks at the lookout point to see the view from every direction.

The trail led us to several more beautiful areas, most of them deserted beach coves. The last one we went to had an enticing alcove of coral and heavy rock, and I climbed up to explore. The Dutch guy joined me and saw a nearly hidden entrance to a cave, only accessible by leaping over a foot gap in the rocks, jagged rocks and ocean below. The cave was wide and high, easy to walk in and around. Looking up, there was a natural skylight, but the beams were so bright I couldn't glance up for long. The view from inside looking out - at the waves bouncing off the geometrical rock formations, was extraordinary.

After exploring a while longer, we hiked back to town and found a simple stretch of beach to enjoy for an hour or so before lunch.

The woman at the hotel had recommended a reggae restaurant named Cool and Calm Cafe. Walking around town to find it, we heard it before we saw it. Andy, the owner, is a Manzanillo native, Caribbean to his core. The outdoors cafe is funky and as cool and calm as the name suggests, with a menu featuring fresh fish caught locally and Caribbean chicken. Zan had fish tacos, and they out with fried fish piled so high he had to eat his way down to the tortillas. The Caribbean chicken was flavorful, and I finally experienced rice cooked in coconut milk, a local favorite. It was our most expensive lunch yet, at $30 for the two meals and some guacamole and chips to start. (The guac and chips were $7, and literally there were 13 chips. Counting chips is a sign of mental instability, I'm sure, but seriously, were we in Costa Rica or San Francisco?!)

Stuffed to the gills, we spent a few more hours on the beach before catching the 4:00pm bus back to town.

That night, the rains we were told would drench our entire trip, came. I don't know how we lucked out with such fantastic weather, but that night the rain came down so hard it was as though the sky had been holding it in all week and couldn't any longer. It was deafening, and I lay in bed listening to it for hours, or for at least as long as I could keep my eyes open.

For dinner, we went to Marco's Pizzeria at the far end of Puerto Viejo. Marco has a wood-burning oven sitting outside and standing right there, amidst a handful of tables and the sound of crashing waves, he rolls the crust and delicately applies toppings. His pizza isn't just good for Puerto Viejo or Costa Rica, it's comparable to - or better than - the best I've ever had. And I'm a certifiable pizza snob. We raved about that pizza all night and for days after.

After dinner, we wandered a few hundred feet up the dark road to The Point, a sports bar Zan has wanted to check out since we were in DC researching this trip. We chatted with expats, including a woman from California who came to Puerto Viejo to teach yoga for four months after being laid off from her job. I'm drawn to people like her - ones that choose the unexpected paths and take the risks and live big. The "ones who are mad to live," as Jack Kerouac so perfectly said.

Puerto Viejo is a lot of things - expensive, surfer's paradise, a party town - but mostly it's a haven for people looking for a new life, a healthier life, a life filled with more reggae music than buzzing phones. There was the expat who told us he and his family moved down here to have more time to put family first. And the one who turned her back on a cushy corporate job to find herself. And the couple who heeded the irresistible call of the jungle and now dedicate themselves to protecting native wildlife.

It's a hippie town, full of vegan, raw, and vegetarian restaurants, yoga studios, and weed. I have complicated feelings on Costa Rica from this trip, but I understand wholly, in my soul, how a traveler planning to pass through Puerto Viejo ends up calling this beautiful place home. 

costa rica day 5 | jungle love, puerto viejo

Well. After being initiated into Puerto Viejo with shots of Guaro, I woke up in the starring role of the unfortunate movie, Guaro's Revenge. I was a little hungover. Okay, that's an understatement.

Zan woke up early to go fishing, and I slept in. Around 10am, I plopped into the hammock on our porch to plan the rest of my day. Next thing I knew, it was two hours later, and I hadn't moved an inch. By noon, Zan wasn't back yet and I knew it was then or never to get myself moving. I tossed on my bathing suit, packed a beach bag, and before I could leave Zan a note, he walked through the door. He was dejected from not catching anything, but "it was a nice boat ride." He always sees the bright side. Speaking of bright side, his arms were lobster red ("he's my lobster!").

We biked into Puerto Viejo for lunch at Soda Mirna, our first taste of Tico food in the south. It was a basic meal of braised chicken, rice, beans, and plantains. It was a hearty, good meal... but even at a restaurant as local as it gets, lunch was $20. I can't get over how expensive this country is!

We biked to a beach in Playa Cocles, a small town before Playa Chiquita, really close to the Jaguar Rescue Center. It wasn't as beautiful as the beaches yesterday, but in paradise, the beaches are all just shades of gorgeous. It's a locals beach, evidenced by the handful of guys we saw wading out to their thighs before throwing fishing line into the surf. A few had buckets of fish they'd already caught.

We left with enough time to check out Alice's Ice Cream Bar, a place we'd passed (and somehow resisted) the day before. An American expat couple owns it. The wife, Alice, makes all of the ice cream with hand run machines, and her husband runs the business side of things. The husband is from DC so we had plenty to talk about over the rich, creamy coffee and dark chocolate ice cream we devoured.

For dinner, we took a taxi ($8) to Jungle Love, a raved about restaurant in the quiet town of Playa Chiquita. We got lucky that a couple had canceled their reservation, and we nabbed one of the 5 tables right away. All of the tables are outside in the open air, a simple roof overhead, and the jungle encroaching from all sides.

The owners are an expat couple. Zamu is a character. He's a big guy - very muscular - from Oakland, California. He has a penchant for pithy, philosophical phrases and an ability to talk to anyone. He told us right away that it was our night, and the entire, beautiful meal made us feel that way. Most of the ingredients are either grown on their property (lemongrass and herbs) or locally sourced.

I had Zamu's sausage pasta ("I know the guy who makes the sausage"), and Zan had sea bass, the fish of the day. Zan had a religious experience with his fish and the basil-ginger sauce on it; I found the ragu a little sweet for my tastes but the dish as a whole hearty, warm, and crave-worthy. Zamu's wife (a charismatic, expert traveler with a contagious laugh) sold us on a cinnamon brownie with homemade coffee ice cream from a local farm. That ice cream was so rich and creamy, and I want more even thinking about it.

With a bottle of wine, two entrees, two apps, and a dessert, our bill came to about $65 with tip. It was probably the most reasonably priced meal out here, and we weren't even charged for incredible conversations with Zamu and his wife.

Zamu is an Army man and trained in hand-to-hand combat. I joked, "Remind me never to make you angry," and he smoothly replied, "It doesn't have to be like that. I just tell people, 'use your words.'" He's teaching his 9-year-old son martial arts and self-defense to carry on the family legacy.

I'd use my words around his son, too.

costa rica day 4 | exploring puerto viejo

When Zander and I were planning our trip to Costa Rica we debated for a few weeks whether to stay in calm and peaceful Cahuita or lively and trendy Puerto Viejo. I had all but booked a charming Airbnb apartment in Cahuita, situated just a stone's throw from the beach and the Cahuita National Park. Zan was hesitant, though, and leaning towards Puerto Viejo. I went with his opinion on this one, and I'm glad we did.

I had pre-judged Puerto Viejo as being a backpacker party town. I was right - Puerto Viejo is a party town, but that's not a bad thing. While the town itself is an enclave of backpackers and tanned surfers drinking and dancing through the night, there are a handful of other small towns and villages that line the coast - each with their own personality. From hippie vegan cafes to fishing villages with Rasatafarian vibes to all natural healing centers, Costa Rica's southern Caribbean coast has all things granola. Puerto Viejo is in the perfect location to explore all the tiny neighboring beach towns and beaches. And that's what we did today - explore.

We rented bikes through our hotel. I found an incredible guide to Puerto Viejo on This American Girl's blog, and I jotted down all of her recommended beaches. We biked out to the furthest beach on the far end of Punta Uva. We biked down a dirt and grave beach access path by Arecife hostel and restaurant. After a short ride, the jungle on either side of us gave way to sand and palm trees, through which the picture-perfect Caribbean turquoise water lapped the shore.

We spent an hour and a half alternating between swimming and sunning before we packed up to find lunch. All of the restaurants I'd jotted down to try were closed, the owners taking a break at the beginning of the rainy season. We met an expat named Laurel who knows everything there is to know about the area; she named each of the restaurant owners by name, telling us about their families - who just had a baby, whose restaurant isn't doing so well, and so on. Eventually, she directed us to La Botanica Organica Cafe, asking us to give the owners a warm hello while we were there.

It's a popular cafe - a vegetarian and wellness restaurant with a small shop that sells essential oils, all natural sunscreen, and the cutest cloth eco-diapers I've ever seen. Zan and I both had a hummus sandwich. I didn't love the food, to be honest (give me meat or give me death), but I loved the atmosphere and downright swooned over the pureed mango drink I had.

After, we biked to a beach nearby in Playa Chiquita. This access path felt like a mini-jungle exploration hike, so buried in vegetation it was. It opened up to an even more beautiful beach, if that's possible. Large swaths of coral dotted the sea closest to the shore. An old, hallowed log provided a place to climb and take pictures. We stayed until we could feel ourselves burning, even through layers of sunscreen.

We got back to the hotel around 5:00 and wasted no time finding ways to relax. By 7:00, we were at Tasty Waves Cantina, "the biggest party in town on Tuesdays." We had tacos and margaritas (2x1!), all delicious and homemade. Our server, an American expat, initiated us into Puerto Viejo with a shot of Guaro, Costa Rica's grain alcohol. It tastes like rubbing alcohol but goes down surprisingly smooth. Between that and two strong margaritas, I was ready to hit the dance floor at 10:00pm when a DJ cranked up the music.

Women drink for free on Tuesdays from 9:30-10:30, and at 9:30 on the dot, women came out of the crevices, swarming the formerly quiet bar. We stayed until nearly midnight. I lost track of Zan as I danced; I can't remember the last time I danced until I'd be sore the next day.

I danced with two women - backpackers, I presumed, and in that sweaty, tipsy, drunk on the music moment, I envied them and the hippie backpacker lifestyle. That feeling lasted only as long as my inebriation, though. I woke up with a headache and extra gratitude for a career that will allow me to travel while having stability. I'll take the excitement and new experiences every day all day, but doing it broke and uncertain of where my next paycheck will come from has never been for me. But there was something sweet about envying that lifestyle, letting my hair down and cutting loose for a few minutes, pretending that I, too, was carefree and deeply tanned, each tattered layer of thin clothing a story of where I'd been.

The women I danced with were incredible, even if our only communication was through hand gestures of fanning ourselves, sharing the misery of a stifling hot Caribbean night. One was my dancing hero. She wore a white tank and cut off jean shorts and had this natural rhythm that was a mix of dancing in reggae clubs as often as hip hop ones. She was so confident and unaware of anyone around her. I loved her energy. Her friend, a lanky brunette, didn't have those dancing skills, but she had a smile that took over her entire face. They were a great pair, and it was fun to join them for a little while, loving and living life to the fullest.

Zan hailed a cab as I paid a street vendor for a meat kabob and a cheese empanada. The next morning I'd blame Guaro's Revenge for my raging headache, but in the moment, it was exhilarating to be young and wild and free.

jaguar rescue center | puerto viejo, costa rica

Before Zander and I got burned on the beaches of Puerto Viejo, we got a little pink walking through the Jaguar Rescue Center.

Two European biologists came to Costa Rica's less-touched Caribbean coast to claim a slide of paradise for themselves after visiting multiple times. Their new found quiet, relaxing lifestyle was short lived; it wasn't long before local farmers, fishers, and people learned of their former careers and began bringing them sick and injured animals. The couple found they couldn't say no to lending a helping hand, and it wasn't long before they founded the Jaguar Rescue Center (JRC) in Puerto Viejo.

The first and foremost goal of the Rescue Center was to nurse sick and injured animals back to health until they could be released back into the wild. But these expats saw a greater need to educate the locals on handling native wildlife - dispelling folklore that often led people to kill endangered animals, and providing a framework for understanding the Costa Rican jungles as habitats for these important creatures.

I was nervous to visit the JRC when I first read about it. I cynically suspected it was more of a petting zoo than a rehabilitation center, and I was wrong. I wholeheartedly agree with and support the JRC's mission. It was evident the second Zander and I stepped into the open-air Center that their priorities are the animals and educating the public. We learned so much while we were there. I would be writing forever if I shared everything, but here are just a few of the highlights of our incredible visit.

We saw and learned about 3 different species of Toucans - each one more colorful than the next. They hopped on branches and awnings of the building all around us, curiously gazing and cocking their long beaks but never venturing closer.

A true highlight of this trip (and of my life!) was getting to interact with baby howler monkeys. These little fellas lost their mothers early on and are dependent on affection and hands-on-care to reproduce the natural socializing aspects they would encounter in the wild. To mimic that interaction, humans do play with them, and we got the opportunity to tickle, pet, and feed them -- if they wanted to come up to us. Monkeys are such social creatures! None of them jumped on our shoulders or came close enough to cuddle, but they curiously eyed up and creeped up close enough for us to pet.

We spent a while talking about snakes and seeing a variety of the ones native to the area. Costa Rica has two types of venomous snakes - corals and vipers. But there are 139 species of snakes total in the country. There are about 600 snake bites each year - a low number when you think of the sheer number of snake there are. A huge number when you think of hiking through the jungle.

Learning more about snakes actually, shockingly (or not so shockingly?) helped make me less fearful of them. Sort of. I mean, I'm still me and paranoid about those terrifying things. Our guide stressed that almost all snakes are defensive and will move when they feel the vibrations of anything larger than it could eat coming near. We saw a boa constrictor (shudder), a viper, and a coral snake.

The Center has multiple owls, two of which - a male and a female - are 'residents,' meaning they are too injured to return to the wild and will spend their lives in the Center. Owls mate for life, our guide noted, and the Center is hoping that these two will mate and have babies that can be released into the wild. Apparently, they've been sitting closer together in recent months. The owl love story was a 'hoot.' (Groan!)

The anteaters and sloths were adorable, as expected. They're in the same family, which I did not know. The sloths were sleeping, but the anteaters were licking ants out of a cup held by a volunteer - using their super sticky tongues to slurp them up.

The Center didn't have any jaguars when we visited, but they were taking care of a young Margay. They're the smallest of Costa Rica's four wild cats. The Center also has an old Osolot who is a resident. Our guide emphasized that not even the volunteers interact with the cats; these animals are not meant to socialize or become accustomed to humans, so they stay away. Volunteers do clean the cages, buy they do it from a distance, never nearing the animals.

Our guide was an expat from Holland. She was beautiful - a very long torso (is that a weird thing to notice/comment on?). Everyone there is a volunteer. She was knowledgable and passionate about her work there, even though it's unpaid.

I've found that I'm drawn to volunteer-led animal rehabilitation and rescue centers when I travel. I fell in love with the Moholoholo Rehabilitation Center outside of Kruger National Park in South Africa. I wanted to move to Thailand to do long-term volunteer work at the Elephant Nature Reserve in Chiang Mai. And I would certainly relish the opportunity to practice my Spanish while protecting Costa Rica's native wildlife at the Jaguar Rescue Center.

costa rica day 3 | canals of tortuguero

Hi! I unintentionally took a few weeks off from blogging, but I'm back. I hope this next portion of our trip to Costa Rica helps inspire you, even in some small way, to explore - your passions, your interests, this world of ours, your own back yard, your kitchen - whatever or wherever it may be. 

I keep nodding off in the boat from Tortuguero to Moin, the port at Limon. We woke up at 5:00am, before the roosters or even the alarm, to take a morning boat tour through the canals.

We set off in a boat powered by a silent engine, the first of its kind in Tortuguero. It was slow-moving and silent - except for the occasional chatter among those of us in the boat. Ricardo, the captain and guide, could make just about any animal sound I've ever heard - and many more I never knew existed. From the screeches of Howler monkeys to the guttural call of a "Tiger" bird to the gurgles of a caiman mother calling to its offspring, Ricardo could imitate it. Often he received calls back from the wild - sing-song, playful conversations between man and nature.

We saw spider monkeys - with their prehensile tails acting like a 5th limb, allowing them to swing through the jungle on vines and branches without any effort at all. We watched Howler monkeys leap through the air and land with a thud on a nearby tree, sending the sounds of cracking branches and scattering leaves through the jungle.

We saw four caiman; we were lucky, Ricardo said, to see so many. The last two were sunbathing on a log together. They're solitary creatures, Ricardo noted, but we were there during mating season. They didn't look like they were hot for each other, to me, but what do I know about reptilian attraction?

And we saw two kaleidoscopic toucans - total "Fruit Loops" birds, Ricardo joked.

Back to our current situation, me writing to stay awake on our powerboat that was minutes ago cruising through the canals, a breeze blowing through my air. Now we are stuck in the low, low waters of the river. What was swiftly flowing water minutes ago is too low, and the vegetation has nearly beached us in the swampland. Several canoes have passed by, the oarsmen standing in the water to get better traction on the muddy, slimy swamp floor. Millis, our Captain, hopped out of the boat and is standing erect in the river, and the water comes only up to his knees. Zan offered to hop out and help push us to higher waters - but Willis has it under control.

After getting us over the shallowest area, we're off again, the spray back on my arms and face - a nice reprieve from the sweltering heat and humidity of the last few days.

Soon we'll dock at Limon and share a cab with new friends we met at our hotel to Puerto Viejo. We'll spend three days exploring the beaches of Costa Rica's Caribbean coast. Tortuguero is peaceful, a jungle swamp in the middle of a lush, green country, a respite and habitat for creatures large and small, and now it's small, indistinct in our wake.

costa rica day 1: to tortuguero

"What's today's date?"

"May the 4th be with you." - Zan

I'm not sold on Tortuguero - not completely. Sometimes I am - moments when I can see the solitude and peace as something other than an expensive trip to the lake. That's what it kinda feels like. Like planning and taking a lake trip would just be a frivolous waste of vacation time, but traveling to Costa Rica's most remote waterways is worth it. Also, so far everything is expensive in Costa Rica and Tortuguero. I've spent $300 in 48 hours in this country. That does include 3 nights of hotels, though, so in perspective, maybe it's not as bad as it seems.

Why am I complaining? I'm not, really. Despite the cost, Tortuguero is laid back, chilled out, and very relaxing. And it was certainly an adventure getting here...

We were scheduled to take a Viator tour from San Jose to Tortuguero on Saturday the 3rd. We landed in San Jose at midnight and were deliriously pulling covers around ourselves by 1:00am. Our wake-up call came at 4:30, and I think it took me 3 attempts to groggily pick up the receiver. Zan gave me a second wake-up at 4:45. By 5:20am, we were waiting at the Holiday Inn Express for the Gray Line tour bus. Our scheduled pick-up time of 5:40 came and went - replaced by 6:00, 6:30, and then 7:00am. By 7, I was onto a Plan B and had surreptitiously used the free computers in the hotel lobby to jot down directions to Tortuguero by public transportation.

I still have no idea what happened with the tour. Our confirmation vouchers say that additional confirmation is required, but we received payment confirmation from Gray Line, the local tour operator (for Zan - mine was handled through my freelance work with Viator), along with separate emails confirming pick-up time and location. We were stood up! When the Gray Line office in the hotel opened, the woman staffing it made a few calls. The best answer she could give us is that in the Gray Line system, the tour was marked canceled, even though we hadn't been notified.

Tour schmour! I was wide awake and excited for our DIY trip, by that point. We hired a taxi to get us to the first bus station in time. But before leaving the hotel, we grabbed breakfast and several cups of coffee (for Zan) and tea (for me) at the only place in sight: Denny's. Our first meal in Costa Rica was a grand slam.

From the first bus station - Caribenos, we traveled 2 hours to Cariari, a typical Central American town, a little run-down without much to see. The bus ride, though, took us through the Braulio Carillo National Park - a cloud forest and rainforest. The drive was stunning. Small waterfalls cascaded over vertical rock faces on either side of the bus.

From Cariari, we took a bus one hour to La Pavona, a tiny village on the river and the last destination accessible by land before Tortuguero. The area has little more than a small restaurant called Ranchero, mostly for tourists to grab an empanada or bag of chips and pay to use the restroom before setting off for Tortuguero. We boarded a longboat and sped through the canals to the tiny village of Tortuguero. I spotted a spider monkey dangling from one arm high in the treetops right before swinging to catch another branch. Some of the canals were windy and narrow, while the main thoroughfare in the last half of the hour-long boat ride was much wider, with expansive views of the river, jungle on either side and sky above.

When we docked at Tortuguero village, Zan and I exchanged excited glances. The village is colorful - the houses and ramshackle restaurants and shops a rainbow of colors. I've never been anywhere accessibly only by boat. The remoteness - the challenge to get there - makes it desirable, different, detached from real life.

We checked in at our hotel - Casa Marbella - about 3 minutes after docking. Everything here is very close. There's only one main street, and you can walk the entire village in less than an hour. Our room is simple - a bed and no furniture, save for a small bedside table and a bench of sorts for clothes and belongings - and a clean bathroom. Ants on the bed have been an issue - but Zan seems unscathed so maybe I'm making too much of it?

We ate a late lunch at Buddha Cafe, just about 50 feet from our hotel. We had pizza and a 'Uruguay sandwich,' which was essentially a burger with the beef prepared slightly differently. The meal left us mostly satisfied but out $30.

We spent the rest of our first day exploring the village. The street follows the River. On the other end - a short two-minute walk on gravel and dirt paths - the ocean spreads out and rolls up.

The beach here is stunning. It's a black sand beach - my first time seeing one. I was mesmerized by the contrast of the blue water and white foam against the dark sand. The blackness of the sand makes every other color vibrant. The surf is strong (it's always strong, and swimming isn't recommended, we've heard), but still I waded in to my stomach, unable and unwilling to resist the cool(ish) water on the hot, humid day. We walked the beach for an hour, me taking pictures, and Zan lost in his thoughts - and conversation with another traveler for a short while.

The beach is special. Standing in the surf and walking through the soft, hot sand, I felt taken somewhere - that wonder that all travelers keep moving and experiencing to feel. It's a high, that sense of wonderment.

We got back in time to watch the sunset on the hotel's deck by the docks. I switched between my book and my camera, unable to put either down but wanting both at the same time. We ate dinner at Sun Rise Cafe, and it was simple -grilled meat (cooked outside near us), rice, beans, and a small salad. We finally got a taste of local life, and it was delicious.

Tortuguero is expensive - that was to be expected, as everything has to be brought in by boat, and maybe it is an overblown trip to the lake, but I haven't used a brush in 2 days and don't bother to check my email for hours on end and got so lost in a book I thought about it and little else as we meandered around town. Those little luxuries and indulgences make it worth it.

booked | costa rica

To celebrate our two years and my next chapter and take a breather before my internship this summer and grad school starting in the fall (phew), Zan and I are headed to Costa Rica for a little over a week in early May. Can I tell you how excited I am? I've barely touched this trip. Barely researched (for me). Barely laid my hands on a spreadsheet with an itinerary. Barely booked a thing. In fact, we've booked nothing except the tickets to get us there and home. (And the home part seems optional to me.)

This trip isn't how I normally travel. It's not a chance to squeeze every bit of culture, new experiences, and sites into the eight or nine days. This trip is, can I even say it? A vacation. A true, honest to god, vacation. We won't be jumping from city to city (very much) or staying in a handful of airbnbs and hotels. On this trip, we're going to see a thing or two within a day trip from San Jose, and then we're parking ourselves in an airbnb in Cahuita on the Caribbean coast, just north of the backpacker-friendly Puerto Viejo, for 5-6 days of beaches, national parks, drinks with locals and ex-pats, sloth-spotting, and excessive R&R.

That is, if I can stay strong and fight the temptation to research every nook and cranny of that beautiful country and book our time until it's filled to the brim.

Stay strong, self, there's a Caribbean paradise just around the bend of this month.

ps - I nabbed our tickets off of Spirit Airlines for less than $350/each roundtrip! (Including fees for a carry-on bag.) 

swimming with sea lions in the galapagos

 From my journal... 

I carried our clean clothes from the laundromat up the last hill to our guesthouse, and I sighed. With the weight of the clothes and the complaints from my feet. And in that moment I felt like a natural, a local - like I lived here, almost. That's the sweet spot of traveling - the moment when assimilating feels closer than being a tourist.

Our last day in the Galapagos was more perfect than I could have imagined it would be. Zan and I took a Viator tour to La Loberia Island off of Santa Cruz. I'm writing about it for viator.com, and that's what it feels like to be a travel writer. It feels pretty great.

We were wary of a tour - aren't I always? So the joys were unexpected. Standing a foot from a blue-footed booby while a marine iguana sunned at its wide-webbed feet - it was wild experiencing nature like that. My wide feet, clad in blue Toms, fit right in with the peculiar and beautiful bird's. Later in the day we swam with sea lions. We ungracefully flapped our limbs, those dangly arms and legs unsuited for aquatic life. We took enormous breaths and plunged as deep into the ocean's surface as our ears could handle to see the sea lions glide and dive with grace and ease. They were dancers down there. I came eye-to-eye with one and could have stayed there for an eternity if I didn't have those pesky human lungs.

Later we hiked to a natural swimming hole - Las Grietas. We walked in our swimsuits, ocean water still dripping, in sandals and flip-flops, over lava rocks and an expansive pink salt mine. I scaled boulders taller than me, piled one on top of the other, next to each other, supporting each other, until I reached one 10 meters high. I had to sit on my butt and scoot forward inch by inch, stretching my legs and pointing my toes as hard as I could to balance while trying to reach the narrow ledge of the rock right below it. And then I stood on that bulging boulder, the ledge thinner than the length of my feet, holding on to the one behind me for life - and a twig of a branch reaching out from a crevice in the rock beside me. The water was so clear I could see the rocky bottom from the sky, it seemed. And in that moment, it felt like I was standing on the sky. I counted to three- 1...2...3... fifteen times, but finally, on one of those "3s," I jumped.

The adrenaline rush and pounding of my heart could only be matched by the thrill of the ice cold water rushing over me. I'm a junkie.

We watched the sunset back on the boat with eyes wide open, eager to hold on to the moment for as long as it could last. Our boat captain cut the engine right as the sun started to fade, and he shhh'd us all and pointed. And there, a foot from the boat, two larger-than-life sea turtles were rolling over each other, first one's hard shell popped to the surface and a second second later, the next. They were mating. We watched with rapt attention and awe. So that's how they do it, you know we were all thinking. 

We ate ice cream twice - once after lunch and again after dinner. We shopped for final Christmas gifts and souvenirs. We walked slowly down Santa Cruz's streets, and savored life as we were experiencing it.

Zan almost didn't stay on Santa Cruz today. He considered taking the 2pm ferry back to San Cristobal and meeting me there tomorrow for our flight. Exhaustion almost got the best him. But at the very very last second - right as the tour guide arrived at our hotel - he changed his mind. I'm so glad he stayed and we powered through our fatigue. We were rewarded a thousand times over.

Ciao ciao the local people say in the native language Quichua to say goodbye. Ciao ciao, Galapagos Islands.