volcanoes and jungle beasts

It’s hard to remember everything that’s happened since I last wrote. . . Rob and I went to the banana plantation with Wenceslao, one of the students of rob’s English class. We weren’t really sure what to expect, but the experience was an eye opening one. Wence, as we call him, is a supervisor there, and his crew is concerned solely with the health of the leaves of the banana plants. The plantation is a massive operation, even though the one we visited is Del Monte’s smallest in Costa Rica. We spent the morning zipping around the cable tracks they use to get around the plantation laughing our asses off and learning a ton. Wence is really proud of the job he does and is happy to spread the knowledge. Trino and George are both on his crew, and as we walked around the plantation we saw them working, as well as many other people that work under him. I had no idea what an elaborate operation banana plantations are, and I certainly didn’t think the workers on the plantation would be happy with their lives. The truth is that ten years ago they wouldn’t have been, but in some places that’s changed. Del Monte sells to the European continent, the regulations of which exceed those of north America. What this means is that the workers get their housing paid for, work steady hours instead of sunrise to sunset some days. The pesticide administration is timed so that workers aren’t in the fields as it’s being applied, as it used to be. Extracurricular things are sponsored by the company, such as the soccer leagues (one of which rob plays on). It was pretty cool to see standards like ISO 14001 and EuroGAP (good agriculture practice) actually trickle down and be applied at the worker level and have an effect. These people have so much less than so many you and I know, but they are so much happier. They’re not rich, but ends do meet for them, so my opinion of this company and how plantations run has definitely turned around. The soccer game rob played in was the
night before the plantation visit. We were invited into the home of one of the families for beans and rice, which I happily scarfed down (one of my favourite dishes). Paola, the woman who cooked it, was happy to see what a lunch box I was. I think the trend caught on because then Margarita, Wence’s wife, invited us for breakfast the next morning before our visit to the plantation. I’d have to say that breakfast included my first full cup of coffee, and I was happy that it was Costa Rican. The day after our plantation visit rob and I took off for the Volcano Arenal. There isn’t much choice if you want to see Arenal other to stay in the town of La Fortuna, which is somewhat infested with Gringos. Yeah, I know we’re white too, but it isn’t the same. Rob speaks fluent Costa Rican Spanish, and it’s infuriating to watch him get treated like a tourist in a town like that, vs the interested people of the plantation whose last plan is to make a dollar from you. We did have a blast though. We ended up renting some horses and taking them several k up the mountain side. We hitched them at a stable in the hills and continued on foot. With the massive crater of arenal looming in the sky, we hiked the steep hillside, taking breaks every few minutes in the humidity, working our way up the side of a small cone called Cerro Chato which resides in the shadow of the massive Arenal. Cerro Chato is an extinct cone which has a lagoon in the centre of it. We hiked up into the rainforest and down into the crater. After a quick swim it was time to head back up the rim and down the mountainside. The sky opened up on us (it’s not called a rainforest for nothing) which was completely welcome, and we hiked down, jelly legged. My horse (Artex, yeah I named him that) was a welcome sight. We rode out enjoying the scenery. The next day we got on a bus and rode to Guanacaste, the northernmost province of Costa Rica. Guanacaste is famously desert like, and is home to the Costa Rican cowboy. That’s right: dark skinned, tight jeaned, big beltbuckled Spanish cowboys. We bussed for the whole day and ended up in the city of Liberia, from where we were picked up by the owners of the lodge we were heading to. We took a dirt road out of the city out into the scrubby hills, with our goal, Volcan Rincon De La Vieja, dominating the skyline all the way. The road was white powder lined with grey rock. Surprisingly, this is a national road in costa Rica, though it looked like an abandoned mining road you might find in the Dakotas somewhere. Costa Rica apparently has the worst roads in central America, despite it’s developed status, because the country shunts more money into priorities such as healthcare, etc. The air was much cooler as we were partway up a mountain. Things were so much quieter at this northern dwelling. The owners were cool, and the other gringos there could have been worse, as this was a very out of the way place, so to end up there (in the words of rob) “they must’ve had some semblance of a brain”. Agreed.
The next day was epic. We rode over 20 k on horse and hiked about 22 altogether. We hiked up up up, up a steep mountainside, out of the jungle up to the summit of an extinct volcano with a somewhat active crater. The last eruption of Rincon de la vieja was in the 80’s, which released a dust acid cloud that wiped out the whole side of the mountain, and it has still not recovered. The smell of sulphur filled our noses as we walked along the socked in knife edge of the rim. We couldn’t see the lagoon that was supposed to be boiling down there, but we could smell it. The weather picked up and the rain started to feel like needles. I stopped to take a look on the way out and quietly noted that it was raining straight up past me. That’s right: raining up. The guide we were with said it was the worst weather he’s ever seen. We had a good laugh. Our legs barely worked as we scrambled down, again in the pouring rain, slipping as the muddy gulch that was our path turned into the creek that formed it. Downclimbing some of the ropes was touch and go, but eventually we made it back to the ranger station, where the most hilarious thing happened. Rob and I were starving, so we headed to a little shop there to grab some snacks. When we came back we saw our guide and another couple that climbed with us playing with a strange jungle creature I have yet to name. This creature is a cross between a sloth, raccoon, and monkey. It is totally tame, they all are apparently. This thing stands up, climbs your leg, etc for food handouts. When we weren’t looking it jumped up onto the picnic table and stole my m&m’s. This thing knew it was stealing, because as soon as he had them he hightailed it the hell outta there, right into the jungle. He fucked with the wrong lunchbox. He saw me running after him as he looked over his shoulder guiltily and he picked up the pace. Once in the woods I picked up a beam of heavy jungle wood, and I guess he got the message as I threw it at him, desperate for my chocolate. He dropped the package and ran a few steps. I picked up the log and made a dash for the treat, and so did he. As we charged at each other I threw the wood again, which made him stop. I grabbed the package and got the hell out of there, as whatever this thing was looked pissed. Rob couldn’t stop laughing when he saw me stumble out of the woods, grinning victoriously, eating my m&m’s. Stupid jungle creature.

We stayed another night and hightailed it the next morning. A long day of riding the bus got us into Siquirres, where we are now. I had to laugh. When we got to San Jose, the capital, we took a cab to the bus station that had busses to Siquirres. The cab driver told us we stunk. He wouldn’t let it go, he kept asking rob if we’d gone swimming even once on our little excursion. I wanted to ask him what he normally smells like. When a guy that spends every day inside a hot shitbox driving around central America tells you you stink: you fucking stink. Don’t worry, I showered. I think the problem was our wet jungle shoes that wouldn’t dry. . . The plantation folks just can’t seem to get enough of us. We’ve been invited to a salsa party they’re having in a couple of night. Alcohol will play a big role, as neither of us salsa. Hopefully I can appease them with some singing in English, they love that shit. “Una otra cantada?”
Anyway – my flight to Switzerland is booked, it leaves less than 24 hours after I land in toronto. Yikes. I hope I don’t forget anything. I’ll be in Anzere, Switzerland from the 4th till the 18th of may, then in the Ardeche in France from the 18th till the 10th of June. I can’t wait. PS, Graeme, gonna need a ride to the airport. . . pleeeeze?