Bugs, Birds, Barro y Naturaleza

A big part of our decision to head this direction after India was to disfrutar la naturaleza a.k.a to spend more time alone in the wilderness. So far we've done a fair job...our first exploration on El Sendero de los Quetzales near Boquete, Panama gave a great introduction to jungle hiking. Mud, erosion, steep ascents, and splashy creek crossings welcomed us on a through hike that led us to Cerro Punta. After the hike, we passed the afternoon sharing chips and salsa with village kids, shared dinner with new friends and heard the word of god from our incredibly kind hostess who gave witness to the power of Jesus in eloquent Spanish! What a night! What a day! We fell into bed exhausted.

The next day on our hike back to Boquete with new friends, Edward & Sara, we spotted the Resplendent Quetzal himself. The bird was once found throughout Central America (CA) but is now endangered. We were lucky enough to spot one on our first trek and our luck has held through many more wildlife spottings since.

After a week in luxurious Boquete we were back on the trail in Corcovado National Park on Costa Rica´s Osa Penninsula. This park is one of the largest areas of untouched rainforest left in CA and offers incredible opportunities to spot wildlife in their element. On our first day we hiked 3 beautiful beach km to La Leona Ranger Station. There we met several other gringos (most, but not all, of the park's visitors come from other parts of the world), we shared stories, and we enjoyed the violent surf. (Really, I enjoyed the surf, M waded into her hips, got taken down by a big wave, skinned her knee and waded rapidly and emotionally to safer ground.) We covered 20 sweaty km the next day as we traversed perfect beaches, steamy jungle, and rocky shorelines to the middle of the park at La Sirena Ranger Station. La Sirena felt as deeply off the map as any place I've ever been with an airstrip. The jungle trees towered over the narrow clearing seemingly ready to take it back as soon as the guard´s backs were turned. Just before sunrise the Jurassic Park soundtrack began from all sides. Our little tent felt very vulnerable as the howling grew nearer and nearer. The Kongs, a.k.a Howler Monkeys, sent shivers up our excited spines as we awoke. We enjoyed leaving the tent in one spot for the day and took advantage of the cool morning to explore muddy trails, hunt elusive tapirs, prowl for monkeys, and dodge the sun in the jungle shade. By 10 am it was too hot to move so we holed up and tried to stay cool on the broad porches of the ranger station. By evening it was cool enough to venture to the river for a swim (careful to avoid the freshwater sharks and crocodiles!) and then to the beach for a sunset dinner. Our next morning started at 4 a.m. as we donned headlamps and headed for a long slog through the jungle. Fifteen km of flat jungle walking readied us for the final 5 km push up trails gorged with red sloppy mud. Though March is the end of the dry season our shoes were still swallowed in mud stirred up by boots and hooves into a thick goopy pudding that stuck to everything. I can´t imagine what this place must look like in la epoca de lluvia...the rainy season. Our day brought butterflies, turkeys, loads of lizards, spider monkeys, sloths, the world's greatest swimming hole, and a soccer game with the park rangers that entertained us to no end. A long hike down and out on a trail that crossed the river 23 times brought us back to the limited civilization of a bus stop. One, dusty, jostling truck ride later, we reached Puerto Jimenez. After a cold beer and a shower we felt the swelling tide of Semana Santa drawing Ticos to the beach. Quickly, the quiet town was turning into a Spring Break hot spot and it was time for us to head out.
Our latest wilderness adventure was in Chirripó National Park. The highest peak in Costa Rica, Chirripó, offers a trail that starts at 5,000 feet and climbs to an altitude of about 12,500. The wet jungle gives way to cloud forest and then to a tropical alpine ecosystem all within a day´s climb. To sweeten the deal we found a great guest house 50 mts from the trail head. Casa Mariposa is winning the best hostel of the trip award and gave a great base from which to launch a climb.
Mercy's body told her to opt out of the Chirripó adventure so I went solo. Leaving the tent at about 4 am I headed up the trail with headlamp ablaze. I reached the midway point of the climb about daybreak and the Crestone shelter by about 8:30. After a quick breakfast I went in search of the summit. Enjoying the passing wind and rain, I explored the alpine environment. The climbers shelter was a solar powered dorm complete with kitchen and Internet! Most people stayed a couple days to explore several nearby peaks and alpine lakes at leisure. I napped and visited for several hours before nonchalantly heading back down the hill at about 5 pm. I was feeling good, had a light pack and thought sundown was at 6:30. I figured I could run down and be back to Casa Mariposa in time for dinner. Right....
The trouble I ran into was the reality of a cloud forest. They call them Cloud Forests because they are almost always shrouded in mist. This turned out to be the case as I descended. The quick run down the hill in afternoon light turned into a very dark slog in the mud. Sound familiar? The headlamp actually made visibility worse. All I saw was the light reflecting back from the water vapor surrounding my head. Whiteout conditions coupled with the mud-pudding from the afternoon showers resulted in a slow and messy descent.

When I finally opened the back door Mercy greeted me with a relieved smile and helped me hose off. The Casa Mariposa was full of new friends and a communal meal was on the stove. By the time I'd cleaned up the house was ready to eat. About 17 of us crowded into the cozy living room HCW style to share stories for the rest of the evening. Only a bunch of good company could have kept me awake after that 50 km day and Casa Mariposa delivered.

Panamanian playtime...

Studying Espanol in Boquete, Panama, was a bit like studying German in Leavenworth. There were people around who spoke Spanish, that's true, but the majority were also comfortable in English. Like Leavenworth, tourism reigned and there was plenty to do: the hiking and vistas were incredible, the temperatures were perfect, birds of all colors flew the skies and the flora was mountain tropical. We settled in comfortably with our gracious host family in their flowering paradise. Our teacher shared her knowledge of the preterito, subjunctivo, and imperfecto with us, we tried to focus and keep up but it's a tall order to study 4 hours a day after a long time on the other side of the desk. After two days we dropped the last hour of class and found more energy for actually speaking Spanish with people.

After a week of enjoying classes and having a home with a closet for our clothes, we loaded the bags and headed out of the mountains to Mono Feliz (Happy Monkey) on Punta Burrica.

Jutting out into the Pacific, the Burrica Peninsula was one of the last parts of the virgin Pacific Coast of Panama to see settlement. Homesteading on the peninsula continued into the 80s and now the last strip of jungle outlines the end of the spit like an overgrown eyebrow surrounding pastures, cornfields with incredible sea views. The small communities that live there move over terrible roads, mostly on horseback or in the community truck on the beach at low tide. A few hours standing on an overcrowded old school bus, a transfer to a thankfully air conditioned mini-bus and few more hours of rolling along, a good dose of waiting around, a crammed pick up truck ride, then a 3 hour hike brought us to Mono Feliz.

Mono Feliz is nestled into the jungle a stones throw from an idyllic white sand beach with good surf. The reforested grounds include a few thatched roof 'rancheros' with hammocks for lounging and foam mattresses for sleeping. One ranchero serves as the kitchen, for us and the monkeys. The crowning glory of the place is a cool spring water pool to slid into anytime you have to bring the body core temperature way down or rinse the salt off. Upon arrival we found peace and lots and lots of monos--most of them feliz like us. We explored the nearshore tide pools, fed the monos and borrowed the old surf board for an excercise in self-flagelation. This place was amazingly close to paradise!

Multi-Continental Concrete Jungle

We´ve made a mad dash from Mumbai to London to NYC to Panama City, what a damn enjoyable whirlwind.

In Mumbai 20 million people share a small piece of earth surrounded by water, trains are full, frequent, and packed. Sidewalks are crowded to the point of near constant physical contact. Trains bulge with men hanging out the open doors. The architecture runs from squalid to grand but is consistently dirty and run down. These physical traits influenced but did not define our experiences there. The crowds of people, specifically a few we knew before our trip who shared their lives and friends with us, made Mumbai one of our favorite places.
London, the biggest city in Europe, shines with money through the gray winter days. Shiny cars with good Italian names whiz around the city dodging the big black cabs full of people with good jobs while the rest of us crowd orderly down the sidewalk. The parks of London blew us away. The middle of February and every blade of grass was in its place, the trees were all trimmed and every kind of stylish Londoner seemed to be out enjoying the lucky sunny Saturday. Our cozy stay on Pete´s canal boat was an insider's view of London life. We cruised all over in the tube, we hit the pubs with a caste of Pete´s friends, we searched out burritos, and we attacked the free museums. A few days of London living was tops.
NYC´s tired subways had a lot more in common with Mumbai´s train than the slick London Tube. But then we caught up with Mercy´s great aunt on the Upper Eastside and everything got a lot classier. Arriving to a doorman and a home cooked meal we relished the hospitality heaped upon us and relaxed. Donna came out to help us resupply our worn out gear and search out Manhattan´s best pizza and sushi. We caught up with my cousin and feasted on veg food in the Village. We reunited with friends we´d first met in Syria for another home cooked meal in Brooklyn. We indulged in good American microbrew and great conversations. Overall NYC was family, friends, and furious shopping that made for a great time. Then we headed South.

Panama City´s skyline puts Miami to shame. A forest of skinny residential towers crowd the coast, each one strategically placed to claim at least a sliver of sea view ready made for the glossy brochures aimed at Midwestern baby boomers looking for retirement in the ¨next Florida¨. Hobbled once again with our backpacks and jet lag we arrived at a hotel that´d lost our reservation and a city with fully booked rooms. We hunted for hours. Finally, we made our way to Casco Veijo, a colonial section of town in the midst of a rejuvenation where on the same block you can have a steak dinner for 30 bucks or marvel at the palm trees rooted to the decaying stucco of a beautiful, but decrepit 300 year old Spanish mansion. We found home in an hostel constructed for canal workers that hadn´t seen much maintenance since, but was full of character.

We immediately relaxed into Panama. We dined to the strumming of a guitarist playing Brazilian samba. Mercy took a walk and came home raving that every guy she passed looked her in the eye and said good morning (in Spanish no less). We are ready for everything this country holds.