costa rica day 2: tortuguero

We didn't do all that much today. It was perfect, in that way. We woke when our bodies said it was time, sleeping off the wear and tear of the past few months. We lingered over breakfast - bananas and pancakes with a hint of cinnamon - reading and looking out over the water long after we'd finished. I don't spend nearly enough time finding beautiful spots just to sit, think, journal, and read. It's rejuvenating to have nothing else in life matter except beauty and the book in my hand or thoughts in my head. When we get back, I'd like to make time for more of this -- and find a spot that inspires me to do nothing at all.

After breakfast we inquired with our b&b about hiking to the top of Tortuguero Hill (Cerro Tortuguero). Our hotel said we could hire a guide and told us he comes into town around 1:30pm, and we could talk to him then. We checked in at the Guide Association (a small, simple building by the main dock in town) and asked the same question about hiking Tortuguero Hill. An English-speaking guide explained that the Hill is closed due to erosion from overuse.

I was disappointed - I'd wanted to see the canals from above, but we decided to talk to the guide at the hotel that afternoon and spend our morning exploring the only part of the national park accessible by foot.

We donned (free) rubber boots at the hotel - a requirement to hike in Tortuguero National Park. The entrance is at the end of the main street in town, which is nice - it's impossible to get lost, even for me. We paid $10 each for a day park pass and set off on the 5km roundtrip trail.

I started the hike ramped up about potentially seeing monkeys, sloths, and even a pit viper (ah!). Zan broke out his air guitar and sang "Welcome to the Jungle," while standing in 3 inch deep mud. As much as it pained me (seriously - he's the best when he's being silly), I shhh'd him. This was a serious rainforest wildlife spotting trek! We schlepped through mud (fun) and then through forests (also pretty fun).

My excitement waned after 30 minutes. We saw grass cutter ants (really cool the first 3 times) so much that we began to step out of their way. Ants run the jungle. We also saw lizards... a lot of lizards. And a squirrel! And, that was it.

I was lost in my own thoughts about the book I was reading - A House in the Sky - Canadian journalist Amanda Lindhout's story of being held captive for ransom for 460 days in Somalia. I couldn't stop thinking about it - how would she escape? Where are her captors now? Did they get away with it? I started speed-hiking, thinking if I got far enough ahead of Zan, I might be able grab the book from my bag and read a few pages before he caught up.

I don't remember the last time I was so engrossed in a book. It's partially the book (incredible) and partly having time to think of nothing else. Except for the leaf cutter ants, of course.

After a sub-par lunch at Fresh Foods (not so fresh?), we strolled back to our hotel, laughing and casually chatting, not a single care in the world (how incredible and rare a feeling is that?). And then everything came crashing down.

The woman who runs the hotel came running out to meet us, saying the guide for Tortuguero Hill was waiting and we should hurry. Stressed and confused, we followed her to the dock, where an Australian expat with long hairy pulled into a ponytail, dressed in ratty clothes, was impatiently waiting on a small water taxi, the boat captain sitting at the helm. Before we had a chance to speak, he hopped off the boat and was standing a foot in front of us.

"Those are nowhere near good enough," he angrily croaked, pointing at my sandals.

We quickly realized he believed the tour was scheduled. We explained that we'd been told we would have a chance to talk to a guide and get details on what we could and could not do at the Hill. He flippantly - and still angrily - went on to say that miscommunications happen, but in the same breath he criticized us for being "late and unprepared." He decided for us that we weren't going (we hadn't made a decision because he wasn't rational enough to discuss the hike with us) and demanded 2,000 colones (about $4) to pay the boat captain for the unnecessary trip. I explained we wouldn't be paying as we hadn't scheduled anything or hired anyone.

By the time he stalked off (with no payment), we were unnerved and even felt unsafe. The hotel woman shrugged it off, back at the front desk, saying, "Who knows what got into him."

Still, when we rounded the corner to our room and saw him sitting on the deck smoking, we took the back way around the hotel to avoid any further contact. We ended up seeing him later that night, drunk and stumbling about town. So there's that.

We shook the whole negative interaction off and took the hotel's canoe out on the river. The peacefulness and calm of the water and surroundings quickly worked the tension out of us. I was actually really nervous because the waters have so many crocodile and caimans, isn't that ridiculous? It was pretty comical, for Zan, at least.

Eventually, I calmed down - trusting Zan and his Boy Scout canoeing badge to guide us to safety (and to do the rowing, let's be honest here). It was beautiful and an afternoon well spent. We didn't get to see the canals from above, but being there on the water? Well, that was just as nice.

Zan bought a bottle of wine ($12) and a few beers ($2 each) from a supermarket, and we spent our second and final night in Tortuguero sipping drinks on the deck, swatting mosquitos, and watching the sun fade beneath the jungle.

I finished A House in the Sky there on the dock, tears freely rolling down my cheeks. 

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.

pause

Every time we saw something pretty from the car as we rolled down dirt roads and over gravel and rocks, Staley, Jess, and I - all squished together in the backseat, would yell, "Pause!" until Zander came to a screeching halt - all of us thrown forward then back. I'd roll down the window and stick my camera out to capture the scene, Zan accelerating and breaking, stop-and-go, Jess retorting, "Now back an inch! You missed it - forward an inch!" And the pictures were so bad - a fence was always in the way, or shrubbery through which, far beyond, we could catch a glimpse of the mountains. Or, as Brian, from Wyoming scoffed, "More like foothills!"

At Stone Tower Winery, we were tipsier from our laughter - that point you get to when no matter what anyone says, clever or completely mundane, it's hysterical. That rhythm, that banter, it's the stuff. It's the bee's knees. It's addictive. And as our taster finished our tasting, she teased us with the soon-to-be-released 2013 Rose. She brought out the bottle, but no! She couldn't open it for us to taste; it's for members only. Zan and I bolted to the front of the tasting room, nearly tripping over each other, grabbing a membership form, and battling over whose name would be on it. Our spanking new membership came with not one tasting but five of that Rose, and three bottles of it to go.

It was the best Rose, the best wine, any of us have ever tasted. It was the taste of exclusivity, and the taste of rays of sun warming the breeze, and the taste of a perfect day spent celebrating a birthday to remember.

Pause. 

a fanciful day at zephaniah farm vineyard

On a government form that vineyard owners must complete, it asks for the "fanciful name" of your wine, explained Bonnie, owner of Zephaniah Farm Vineyards and wife to the winemaker, as she poured our group a taste of the Three Captains Red.

The fanciful name has a family history: three of the men in the family-owned vineyard have been Captains. Then again, everything at Zephaniah is all in the family. From the family members who help with harvesting to the ones who pour tastings, running the tasting room and vineyard at Zephaniah Farm is a family affair.

Zan and I convinced our friends (and my colleagues) Jess and Staley - and Staley's husband Brian, to come out to a few Leesburg wineries with us this past Saturday to celebrate Jess's birthday. Our first stop was Zephaniah, a new to us winery, and one that we'll be frequenting. It was Jess's first time wine tasting, and Zephaniah might have ruined her. I think it ruined us all!

In addition to the family feeling that made us feel so welcomed, the tasting room is housed in Bonnie and Bill's home (her husband), a house to which she recently found a deed tucked away in a corner drawer from 1818. Bill grew up in the home, and as we all picnicked outside in the garden, a loft barn and vines in our periphery, we wondered aloud, how incredible to grow up here?

The old house is stunning. The owners live upstairs and have converted the entire downstairs into tasting areas. Instead of a typical tasting 'bar,' every single wine tasting is seated - in the library, a former guest room converted into a dining area, or in the larger living room. We were seated in the dining room, a private table that seats 7-8, filled only with our five seats.

The tasting is unlike any other I've experienced. Bonnie started off by saying that she would not be describing the wines for us, and no sense in reading the tasting sheet - leading tasting notes weren't there, either. In her natural, good-natured way, she noted that even she and her husband have vastly different palates, so how could they possibly agree on what notes and flavors are present in each wine? At Zephaniah, they encourage each guest to define the wine themselves, to savor each and pick out what scents are on the nose and tastes are on the body for themselves. We had a great time doing this, and in the process I realized how heavily I rely on written and verbal descriptions to encourage me to smell and taste what I do. In the six-wine tasting, I learned to trust my palate more than in all the wineries I've been to before.

And the wines... are spectacular. All five of us enjoyed nearly every single one, with a few clear-cut winners at our table. The 2012 Rose, a blend of Cabernet Franc and Chambourcin, and made in the classic French style, is dry and crisp, with a hint of oak and enough body to hold up on its own or with food. We also collectively loved the 2010 Cabernet Franc, a perfect summer red that Bonnie suggested pairing with sauteed portobello mushrooms. (In fact, she mentioned at least 3 wonderful food pairings that had us all salivating and hoping for an invitation to dinner!)

Finally, we all somewhat surprisingly loved their Sangria. This sangria isn't your typical fruit-flooded, sweet concoction. This sangria is made with the Three Captains Red blend and tastes like wine. It's a wonderful, deep red sangria that's only made fruity with citrus. Bobbie and Bill created the sangria when their son "married into a beer family." They needed a middle ground for the two parties at the wedding, which was held on the property.

Going out on a blind limb, Zander and I purchased a bottle of their 2012 Viognier. It wasn't available for tasting because there are only 3 cases left. Bonnie described it as dry and gave me a thumbs up that convinced me I have to try it. When we open it, I'll let y'all know how it is. I have a feeling I'll be running back to get more before those 3 cases are gone.

Speaking of food pairings and Viognier, Bonnie suggesting sauteeing shiitake mushrooms with olive oil and viognier and serving it over basmati rice. I'm not sure I will let any of this bottle go into that pan, but doesn't that sound divine?

We were so enamored of the wines, the relaxing experience, the property, and Bonnie and Bill themselves, that Zan and I asked if they have a wine club.

"No," Bonnie said, smiling at us. "I feel like I'm pouring wine and having fun, not trying to sell." 

life lately | march

March was the month that changed my life. For the rest of my life, I'll remember sitting in a crowded movie theater on March 14 and opening the email that said, "Congratulations," and it held my hand and opened my palm and placed into it my whole future, bright and open and so full of possibility. So much of these last few months has left me feeling stunned, feeling almost numb with unbelievability. Nothing that has happened is believable. It's funny, too, because it is believable. There is a part of me - that since the day I sat in the information session for Georgetown's international relations master program last fall and heard a fellow applicant mention she was applying for the Rangel Fellowship, and I played those unfamiliar words over in my head and on my tongue, that knew it was my destiny. Isn't that crazy? I can't believe I'm putting it in words. I daydreamed about that destiny until I laughed out loud alone in bed so many nights I can't count them because I've never been the sort of person to believe in destiny and fate like that. But it felt destined. It felt right through my core. I think now, now that it's becoming reality - now that I'm only 5 short, short, too short days from leaving my beloved job to embark on this crazy adventure that is this Fellowship and grad school in the fall - now that I know the rug isn't going to be pulled out from under me, and it's not all just one of those late night daydreams - I really see now that it wasn't destiny so much as a good fit. A perfect fit. I've dreamed of a life in the foreign service, I've planned it out, I've known for a while that it's in my blood. That kind of unsettled life is what makes me feel the most settled, the most content, the realest version of myself. This was the month of finding out the stuff I'm made of, and it rocked my world, it rippled through me in waves until I had to believe it - I did it. I'm here. My future is mine.

1&2: 2014: The Winter That Never Ended
3, 4, & 5: March was the month of Theo. My brother took him down to stay with my mom at the end of the month, until Zan and I can rent his condo and find a place of our own that allows dogs. And boy, did Theo and I live up every single last day together. We found a new favorite trail. I can't wait until we're reunited. My life is incomplete without him.
6: I moved! Matt and I said goodbye to living together. From a studio apartment where we shared a bed in LA to the slumlord in Bloomingdale all the way to the tree-lined streets of Cleveland Park, we were in it together until we met our matches. I found this note from my mom written on my old bible. I couldn't throw that old thing away because that note. And isn't her handwriting gorgeous?
7&8: Ellie came to visit! I talked a lot about her being there for me when I found out about Rangel. That's another friendship that's for the ages. We meandered around Georgetown after dress shopping for a girlfriend's wedding next fall and found ourselves planted on the giant green adirondack chair.
9: Zan and I celebrated our two year anniversary on Mach 24. Last year I made him a chocolate peanut butter cake; this year we booked a trip to Costa Rica. He's alright, y'all.

easter on the beach

I've been following healthy lifestyle bloggers on instagram like it's my job lately. It's such a cool community of women sharing recipes and detailing their healthy eating and lifestyle journeys. I'm inspired and motivated by it every day when I log into instagram (by every day, I mean like every hour). It has really begun to change the way I think about food and fitness. There's a lot of language around taking charge of your body and owning it, and I'm coming around to feeling comfortable in that space.

This weekend, we were at the beach visiting Zan's parents (they live in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware), and I found myself consciously choosing to make better choices. Not always - I certainly still drank my body weight in wine over the course of the three days and indulged in a crazy delicious quesadilla and some nachos and maybe even a margarita, but I also chose to go for a walk on the beach instead of stay inside in my pajamas and watch episodes of Veep on HBO Go. I ordered a steak for dinner on Friday night - but chose the smaller one with a side of vegetables to keep it kinda sorta healthy. And before Easter dinner last night, after an afternoon of shopping until I literally dropped from shock at the amount I'd spent, I opted to go for a run instead of our usual pre-dinner festivities of wine and cheese... the pre-cocktail hour cocktail hour.

It was the best run I've been on in a long time. I ran a 3.3ish miles loop around Zan's parent's neighborhood. The air was crisp and a little cool, but the sunshine offset the chill. I ran through a swampy area covered in reeds, through a forested nook in between residential neighborhoods, across the country club parking lot, and along the bay, stopping to crouch down on a dock for a picture. Zander hopped on his dad's moped and caught up to me part way through the run. He honked and cheered me on, teasing me a little, but mostly making sure I didn't get lost. (Side note: He had driven me in the car around the loop, showing me exactly where to go. Even with that and having been down to the beach at least half a dozen times, I still managed to nearly get lost twice!)

In the middle of my run, I found myself thinking about choice. About how I have the power to choose myself - to choose to eat foods that make me feel good instead of weighed down and to choose to get outside and move. It sounds so simple, and it is, but it takes a lot of self-discipline, for me, to make the better choice. Being at the beach made it easier this weekend, though.

There's something about fresh ocean air, the smell of salt, the outdoor shower calling my name, the reeds and woods and water, and long, sunshine-filled days, that make it effortless to be the best version of myself.

All that in addition to great food and hours of catching up over countless bottles of wine. That's what Easter's about for me these days. 

cherry blossom season is

Cherry blossom season is...

...long walks until your feet are sore because your eyes and heart can't turn away from the view
...sake and snacks on a blanket on the grass
...photo shoots
...green tea flavored ice cream
...the Jefferson Memorial, framed just so
...fleeting
...hopeful, new beginnings, fresh starts
...gratitude for new warmth
...a short-lived sunburn, just enough to prepare the body and mind for the summer to come
...friends, experiencing it together for the first or fiftieth time
...paddle boating 
...ice cream and short naps under oversized trees
...the kintai bridge in yamaguchi, japan
...the national mall
spring.