A Little Getaway...
17 de junio del 2006
Yesterday I got to take a surprise day-trip. When I left Heredia about 10 days ago I wasn’t able to bring all of my stuff with me since I was traveling via bus, so the plan was that Ibo would bring the rest of my things the next time he had to come my way for work. That day turned out to be yesterday, so I met Ibo in front of the church at about 7:30am and then I showed him the way to my house. He told me that he had two different meetings to attend in Puerto Viejo, a beach town about an hour or so drive further south, and that if I could join him if I wanted to. Since I didn’t have any plans for the day (and none of my favorite teams were playing) I took him up on the offer for a trip to the beach. It’s a beautiful drive since the road parallels the shore and you can see the waves crashing a lot of the way and its actually a pretty smooth road – at least the first half of it. Then it quickly turns into probably the worst “highway” that I have ever experienced. I guess the common word to use might be “pothole”, but the American concept of that term doesn’ do justice to the circumstances. Pretty much there are chunks of road missing leaving holes of quite decent size and depth. So you can be cruising along at about 50 mph and then suddenly have to slam on the brakes because in the road in front of you, well the ‘road’ is missing. So as we are driving and Ibo is apologizing for the bumper-car like motion of stop and go, up and down, I told him that its sort of like we are playing a virtual video game where you have to swerve about and try and find the best route through the obstacles. Anyway, we made it safe and sound and in good time. His first meeting was with two guys who are overseeing the construction of a home that Ibo had designed. (I think I may have mentioned this before, but Ibo is an architect by trade and a builder and sculptor as well.) One of these guys is from Holland and the two of them own and operate a place on the beach called Tree House – where they rent homes & cabinas to visitors. We got to take a tour through one of the “homes” that they had built and designed themselves. It was quite a sight – I only wish I had my camera. The bathroom was one big huge area that was all an earth-colored stone and was oval-shaped like what you picture an alien space shuttle to look like. It was the same material all the way around: ceiling, floor, rounded walls, etc. and the ceiling had a bunch of small skylight-like circles of varying size that had colored glass – some pink, yellow, green, fushia, blue, and red. The toilet, shower, Jacuzzi, and sink were all separate areas and looked like they were sculpted out of stone. (I realize here that I am doing a terrible job of explaining this place…it probably sounds more weird than anything else, so you’ll just have to trust me that it was beautiful and very unique.) The rest of the “house” was more normal and pretty much everything was made of wood – a nice, open kitchen, living room complete with hanging hammock-like chair, a spiral staircase to the bedroom above, plus there was a dead tree trunk in the middle of it all, clear to the ceiling, as if to look like the house had been built around a tree. The whole front side of the house surrounding the living room had wooden walls that are folding doors that can be opened and pushed aside to reveal and enjoy the wrap-around deck with a gorgeous tropical view and the sound of waves crashing at the beach not far away. I guess the best way to describe the place would be a very modern, up-scale tree house on the beach, with the Jetsons’ house-turned-bathroom attached. As I mentioned before, you’ll just have to trust me that it was cool. Anyway, so we made a short little trip to the construction sight, which is on a hill in the “jungle” not far from the beach and with a view of the water. The house is to be a part-time residence for an American – nice retirement huh?! Ibo’s second appointment was to go over plans with another American – this time a woman from Los Angeles who had come here on vacation and decided not to go back. They were meeting at a place right across the street from the beach, so I was unfortunately forced to soak up the sun on the sand for an hour…too bad. Since it was only about 2:00pm and he was done with work, Ibo wanted to give me the chance to visit another new place – the beach at Cahuita National Park. So we made the short drive to Cahuita and then got to have a nice afternoon walk along the sand with the warm water of the Caribbean splashing our feet. Ibo was telling me about how there have been people who have wanted to “develop” the beaches of Costa Rica – meaning building highways along them and putting up big resorts and hotels to bring in most tourists – but, thankfully, they have been denied that opportunity. It really is the natural setting and the fact that you have a literal jungle butting up to the edge of the water and sandy beach that makes Costa Rica unique and appeal to tourists. If we wanted the experience of highways along the beach and big hotels, we could just drive along PCH in Southern California or take a vacation to Maui. Ironically, I think this desire to appeal to more tourists might not actually play out as the promoters would want. Sometimes it is not always best to make things more modern or more American-like. I mean, I haven’t found any beach towns in the states yet where you can finish off your day at the beach bouncing along the dirt roads trying to pick from among the handful of local restaurants while avoiding the wander pedestrians, several of whom look like they are straight off of a postcard from Jamaica. The little spot that we ended up at was called “Miss Edith” and claimed to feature Jamaican and typical local food, as well as vegetarian (which Ibo is) selections. It turned out to be an experience because they seemed to be out of rice and beans that day (both which are staple items everywhere in this country, and especially this area) and they didn’t have any type of bread at all to go with the soup that Ibo ordered. (I know this isn’t France, but they do eat a lot of bread here too, so to find this in lack as well was another surprise.) Anyway, the whole ambiance of the place was just a trip. From the variety of signs posted, such as: “Don’t sit babies on the table” “Good manners” “Put on a T-Shirt before Enter” and “Jamaican Lobster,” to the curious personality of our host/server. Not to mention the fact that we were the only ones there (mind you, there had been others but they finished and left just after we arrived – so we weren’t completely crazy in choosing Miss Edith.) Alright, so we ate, bid our farewell to Miss Edith, and were on our merry little way back to Limón via the great pothole-infested road. When a person drives on such a road as this, it is hard not to think about the unavoidable damage and destruction one is infringing upon their car and what must be happening to the shock system, alignment, tires, etc. Well, last night I got to experience first-hand the effects on tires. We were driving along what seemed to be a fairly flat stretch of road and there was a line of cars in the opposite direction so when the large hole appeared on the edge of road we had no options for avoiding it and so immediately after the sound of hitting a pothole at decent speed we heard the sound of air leaving a tire. After pulling over we discovered the back right tire to be completely devoid of air. A shame indeed – considering it was a new tire – but no problem more than the time and effort to change the tire because his SUV carries a full-size spare. In no time at all, he had the car jacked up, tire changed, and then back down again, good as new. So we got back in the car to start off again and just as I am thinking of the correct way to jokingly say “Okay, well no more popping tires because we don’t have any more” we begin to drive again but here the same sound of air leaving tires. Sure enough, now the front right tire was flat as well. Now this was more of a problem. The road between Limón and the beach towns we had been at is fairly unihabited and filled with a lot of banana plantations. We were blessed, however, to have run aground in front of a house and pull into safely in the driveway. The man who lived there was outside. Ibo started to ask him where we might be able to get ourselves a taxi but the man said there were nice people around here and of the neighbors had a car so he might be able to help us. I found out the details of this conversation later, however. At the time, I was waiting in the car while Ibo talked to the man at the house, then ended up walking away with the guy down the street and then returned in the car of another man a few minutes later. The nice neighbor helped Ibo remove the second flat tire, then loaded both of the flat ones into his trunk and proceeded to drive us to the nearest town, Bananito (which means “little banana” and is populated primarily by those who work on banana plantations) about 15 minutes or so away, in hopes of finding a tire shop open. At this point it was just after 6:00pm on a Friday so we were running a bit of a risk. The first spot was already closed and the other was technically closed but the gate was still open. Ibo and the neighbor were somehow able to convince the owner to not call it a day on this Friday after 6om, but please inspire yourself to take on one more job… Thankfully, they were able to persuade him. So the tire guy set to work on repairing the two tires, then within a half hour or so we were on our way back to the car, two fully repaired tires in hand. Back at the car we put on the new tire and replaced the repaired spare and after just over an hour we had gone from a potentially very problematic situation to better-off than before as Ibo now had a usable spare in case something happened during the trip back to Heredia. Everyone had been so nice and helpful, real neighborly-like people. It was one of those refreshing times when you get to be proud of how people help each other instead of trying to make sense of why people fight with or steal from or kill each other. So that was my Friday: a little lesson in architecture and construction, seeing a very unique home, soaking up the sun a little, a beachside walk, an interesting dining experience, two flat tires, a trip to Bananito, and a experience with the “buena gente” (good people) of Costa Rica.
Yesterday I got to take a surprise day-trip. When I left Heredia about 10 days ago I wasn’t able to bring all of my stuff with me since I was traveling via bus, so the plan was that Ibo would bring the rest of my things the next time he had to come my way for work. That day turned out to be yesterday, so I met Ibo in front of the church at about 7:30am and then I showed him the way to my house. He told me that he had two different meetings to attend in Puerto Viejo, a beach town about an hour or so drive further south, and that if I could join him if I wanted to. Since I didn’t have any plans for the day (and none of my favorite teams were playing) I took him up on the offer for a trip to the beach. It’s a beautiful drive since the road parallels the shore and you can see the waves crashing a lot of the way and its actually a pretty smooth road – at least the first half of it. Then it quickly turns into probably the worst “highway” that I have ever experienced. I guess the common word to use might be “pothole”, but the American concept of that term doesn’ do justice to the circumstances. Pretty much there are chunks of road missing leaving holes of quite decent size and depth. So you can be cruising along at about 50 mph and then suddenly have to slam on the brakes because in the road in front of you, well the ‘road’ is missing. So as we are driving and Ibo is apologizing for the bumper-car like motion of stop and go, up and down, I told him that its sort of like we are playing a virtual video game where you have to swerve about and try and find the best route through the obstacles. Anyway, we made it safe and sound and in good time. His first meeting was with two guys who are overseeing the construction of a home that Ibo had designed. (I think I may have mentioned this before, but Ibo is an architect by trade and a builder and sculptor as well.) One of these guys is from Holland and the two of them own and operate a place on the beach called Tree House – where they rent homes & cabinas to visitors. We got to take a tour through one of the “homes” that they had built and designed themselves. It was quite a sight – I only wish I had my camera. The bathroom was one big huge area that was all an earth-colored stone and was oval-shaped like what you picture an alien space shuttle to look like. It was the same material all the way around: ceiling, floor, rounded walls, etc. and the ceiling had a bunch of small skylight-like circles of varying size that had colored glass – some pink, yellow, green, fushia, blue, and red. The toilet, shower, Jacuzzi, and sink were all separate areas and looked like they were sculpted out of stone. (I realize here that I am doing a terrible job of explaining this place…it probably sounds more weird than anything else, so you’ll just have to trust me that it was beautiful and very unique.) The rest of the “house” was more normal and pretty much everything was made of wood – a nice, open kitchen, living room complete with hanging hammock-like chair, a spiral staircase to the bedroom above, plus there was a dead tree trunk in the middle of it all, clear to the ceiling, as if to look like the house had been built around a tree. The whole front side of the house surrounding the living room had wooden walls that are folding doors that can be opened and pushed aside to reveal and enjoy the wrap-around deck with a gorgeous tropical view and the sound of waves crashing at the beach not far away. I guess the best way to describe the place would be a very modern, up-scale tree house on the beach, with the Jetsons’ house-turned-bathroom attached. As I mentioned before, you’ll just have to trust me that it was cool. Anyway, so we made a short little trip to the construction sight, which is on a hill in the “jungle” not far from the beach and with a view of the water. The house is to be a part-time residence for an American – nice retirement huh?! Ibo’s second appointment was to go over plans with another American – this time a woman from Los Angeles who had come here on vacation and decided not to go back. They were meeting at a place right across the street from the beach, so I was unfortunately forced to soak up the sun on the sand for an hour…too bad. Since it was only about 2:00pm and he was done with work, Ibo wanted to give me the chance to visit another new place – the beach at Cahuita National Park. So we made the short drive to Cahuita and then got to have a nice afternoon walk along the sand with the warm water of the Caribbean splashing our feet. Ibo was telling me about how there have been people who have wanted to “develop” the beaches of Costa Rica – meaning building highways along them and putting up big resorts and hotels to bring in most tourists – but, thankfully, they have been denied that opportunity. It really is the natural setting and the fact that you have a literal jungle butting up to the edge of the water and sandy beach that makes Costa Rica unique and appeal to tourists. If we wanted the experience of highways along the beach and big hotels, we could just drive along PCH in Southern California or take a vacation to Maui. Ironically, I think this desire to appeal to more tourists might not actually play out as the promoters would want. Sometimes it is not always best to make things more modern or more American-like. I mean, I haven’t found any beach towns in the states yet where you can finish off your day at the beach bouncing along the dirt roads trying to pick from among the handful of local restaurants while avoiding the wander pedestrians, several of whom look like they are straight off of a postcard from Jamaica. The little spot that we ended up at was called “Miss Edith” and claimed to feature Jamaican and typical local food, as well as vegetarian (which Ibo is) selections. It turned out to be an experience because they seemed to be out of rice and beans that day (both which are staple items everywhere in this country, and especially this area) and they didn’t have any type of bread at all to go with the soup that Ibo ordered. (I know this isn’t France, but they do eat a lot of bread here too, so to find this in lack as well was another surprise.) Anyway, the whole ambiance of the place was just a trip. From the variety of signs posted, such as: “Don’t sit babies on the table” “Good manners” “Put on a T-Shirt before Enter” and “Jamaican Lobster,” to the curious personality of our host/server. Not to mention the fact that we were the only ones there (mind you, there had been others but they finished and left just after we arrived – so we weren’t completely crazy in choosing Miss Edith.) Alright, so we ate, bid our farewell to Miss Edith, and were on our merry little way back to Limón via the great pothole-infested road. When a person drives on such a road as this, it is hard not to think about the unavoidable damage and destruction one is infringing upon their car and what must be happening to the shock system, alignment, tires, etc. Well, last night I got to experience first-hand the effects on tires. We were driving along what seemed to be a fairly flat stretch of road and there was a line of cars in the opposite direction so when the large hole appeared on the edge of road we had no options for avoiding it and so immediately after the sound of hitting a pothole at decent speed we heard the sound of air leaving a tire. After pulling over we discovered the back right tire to be completely devoid of air. A shame indeed – considering it was a new tire – but no problem more than the time and effort to change the tire because his SUV carries a full-size spare. In no time at all, he had the car jacked up, tire changed, and then back down again, good as new. So we got back in the car to start off again and just as I am thinking of the correct way to jokingly say “Okay, well no more popping tires because we don’t have any more” we begin to drive again but here the same sound of air leaving tires. Sure enough, now the front right tire was flat as well. Now this was more of a problem. The road between Limón and the beach towns we had been at is fairly unihabited and filled with a lot of banana plantations. We were blessed, however, to have run aground in front of a house and pull into safely in the driveway. The man who lived there was outside. Ibo started to ask him where we might be able to get ourselves a taxi but the man said there were nice people around here and of the neighbors had a car so he might be able to help us. I found out the details of this conversation later, however. At the time, I was waiting in the car while Ibo talked to the man at the house, then ended up walking away with the guy down the street and then returned in the car of another man a few minutes later. The nice neighbor helped Ibo remove the second flat tire, then loaded both of the flat ones into his trunk and proceeded to drive us to the nearest town, Bananito (which means “little banana” and is populated primarily by those who work on banana plantations) about 15 minutes or so away, in hopes of finding a tire shop open. At this point it was just after 6:00pm on a Friday so we were running a bit of a risk. The first spot was already closed and the other was technically closed but the gate was still open. Ibo and the neighbor were somehow able to convince the owner to not call it a day on this Friday after 6om, but please inspire yourself to take on one more job… Thankfully, they were able to persuade him. So the tire guy set to work on repairing the two tires, then within a half hour or so we were on our way back to the car, two fully repaired tires in hand. Back at the car we put on the new tire and replaced the repaired spare and after just over an hour we had gone from a potentially very problematic situation to better-off than before as Ibo now had a usable spare in case something happened during the trip back to Heredia. Everyone had been so nice and helpful, real neighborly-like people. It was one of those refreshing times when you get to be proud of how people help each other instead of trying to make sense of why people fight with or steal from or kill each other. So that was my Friday: a little lesson in architecture and construction, seeing a very unique home, soaking up the sun a little, a beachside walk, an interesting dining experience, two flat tires, a trip to Bananito, and a experience with the “buena gente” (good people) of Costa Rica.
posted by Dynasty goes to CR at
9:56 AM
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