The Beach Part 1

I have just recently learned that this blog is going out to a wide audience. So......today´s disclaimer. I know I´m semi illiterate in Spanish, but I´m really quite versed in English grammar and puncuation. You wouldn´t know it by looking at these very, very rough entries. I. a.m. p.o.u.n.d.i.n.g e.a.c.h l.e.t.t.e.r. in.to. th.e. c.om.pu.t.er. Sometimes there is a big lag between what I type and when it appears on the screen. Rather like the telelphone delay when they interview the astronauts in space. Please keep all this in mind. Oh yeah, did I say that all the keyboard puncuation is fo´r ´´ñññ the Spanish alphabet and none of the commas, etc. are really commas? I did find the question mark under the dash key. No telling where the dash is.


So. I have no time or patience at this point to edit. My arm is too tired. Maybe later.

July 8, 2006


Here is today´s entry, Subtitled:

Even If You Don´t Speak the Language, You Still Have to Buy Snacks for the Kids.

In preparation for our trip to the beach, Lora and I decided it would be wise to get some snacks for 7 teenagers to have on a 4 to 5 hour car ride and for the weekend in case we arrived somewhere where it was hard to obtain the constant infusion of calories that teenagers require.

This was going to be a little tricky, in that we had no car, and the market was blocks away in opposite directions from our homes. We decided to meet after school, and since I lived closer, I would bring my suitcase on wheels for transport of the food. We quickly realized my suitcase would nt be big enough.

We caught a cab to Lora´`s house and retrieved her rolling duffle. We were delayed because we had to ask her house Mom for a jack so the cabbie could fix the rattling wheel of his cab, and then we were dropped off at the market. We bought what we could recognize, and loaded it all up in our suitcases. )Mine still smells like cookies), and went home in the cab.

When I got to my house, I divided the loot into a bag for each of the rooms and carried it all, in 2 trips, the 2 blocks to the school and back in the pouring rain walking behind Stephi and Brenna. They were dressed all cute to go out so they had my umbrella. Fortunately, this Duñea had a rain jacket.

The next day, we brought our overnight bags to school, and as soon as class let out, our group of 10 and 3 others loaded up in a slightly oversize mini van and started out for Puerto Viejo, a 5 hour drive away. The roads were fine for the first several hours, and all we had to contend with was the Friday night 5 oclock traffic of smoggy trucks going 30 miles an hour for miles is front of us. The scenery was beautiful, though, waterfalls, and clouds on each side of the road, strechthing out in a green, misty blanket to each horizon.

It was soon dark, and the last hour found us bouncing in our seats, swaying side to side as the van dodged pot holes and craters in the road.

We finally arrived at our hotel, a series of very cute cabanas, each with a bath. It was like summer camp, bunk beds, screened openings with no glass for windows, our cabins, lush greenery and all around us a tree frog seranade. And what is camp without a lot of giggling, door squeaking, whispering kids. Lora and I shared a room, so that was good.

The next morning David and Zaida took us to a beach where they told us we would hike up to a beautiful view and some deserted beaches, but that we should just go barefooted as it was a very muddy climb. I have to admit, this didn´t sound like fun.

We parked the van and took off. We forded a small stream that was flowing down out of the jungle, the water cold and iron red. We walked across an open beach and took a trail that started straight up through vines, banana trees, tropical flowers, and lots and lots of mud. It was squishy. Since I was the one that didn´`t want to leave all our passports locked in the van in the parking lot, I was carrying the pack. It seemed only fair as extreme caution, what others might see as paranoia, comes at a price. I figured it´s always easier to carry the pack now than deal with missing passports later. If if it ever happens. Im kind of superstitious. Once more, I digress.

Our climb put us out onto an open mountain-hill top with a view of paradise. A rather cliqched word to describe the view. The beach below was empty, the sand white and so very clean. The shoreline, lush and green behind a scrim of sea mist, curved away to the horizon, walking distance to Panama. The blue sky bounced the light back into a thousand shining points over the surface of the water. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

We continued our hike through the jungle, emerging over and over to another spotless, unspoiled beach. The water was rough from a storm the night before, but nothing too rough for this group of happy, bold, young, not so young and very, very muddy adventurers. Que bonita.