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Published: February 19th 2010
I believe that we should start every adventure with high hopes and great expectations. I was thinking tonight about my expectations for this trip and to be honest, I can't even remember what they were. Maybe I didn't know what to expect. And really, how could I? I wouldn't have been able to imagine what it is like here before I arrived. I just couldn't have known.
What I do remember is that my expectations for the weekend we went to Volcan Poas were not that high. When we went to Volcan Arenal the week before the weather was less than ideal. I don't mean to sound pompous, but I was under the impression that volcanoes were not that impressive. They are, undoubtedly, an incredible testament to the power of nature. But visually? To the untrained eye it's hard to tell a volcano from a mountain and a mountain surrounded by clouds doesn't look like much of anything at all. But Volcan Poas is only a day trip from San Jose, and AIFS arranged for a bus to take us there one Saturday last month. So we set off to see our second volcano.
They say a picture is
worth a thousand words so I hope you'll forgive me if this entry is composed of more visuals than text, but I think the pictures we took will speak for themselves in this case.
It was worth the trip. Don't you think? The crazy thing about Volcan Poas is that I had actually been there before. I remembered walking up the path to the designated overlooks when I was in high school, but like my trip to Volcan Arenal, my first visit to Volcan Poas had been on a cloudy day. I didn't see anything but fog. My experience last month was nothing like the one I had in high school. Nothing like it.
On our way back down the winding roads we pulled over to buy fresh fruit from some local farmers. Reaching through the windows we dropped colones into their hands and they passed us some of the best strawberries I have ever tasted. From there we headed to "La Paz" an exclusive resort that offers it's guests incredible nature walks. We all got visitors bracelets and took full advantage of the fancy buffet they had.
I've included here a picture of myself with a
Tucan. You, like my 10-year-old cousins may be impressed by this picture. I tend to like it myself. But I feel I'd be misleading you if I let you believe it just flew out of a tree and perched itself on my arm. What they had at "La Paz" was more or less a zoo. And while it was pretty cool to have a photo shoot with a Tucan, I was much more impressed with the natural beauty we encountered when we ventured down the nature trails to see the waterfall. Now that, is "la paz" . (Peace)
I feel the volcano, the strawberries, and the waterfall would have fulfilled my weekly adventure quota but I had no idea what was coming because on Sunday we went white water rafting on the Pacuare river. I believe our guide told us that National Geographic has named the Pacuare one of the top five destinations for white water rafting in the world. Now, I have nothing to compare it to, so I may be biased, but I can tell you that the day we spent on the Pacuare was the most fun I've had so far.
It's possible to make
day trips to the Pacuare from San Jose but it takes a couple of hours. One of the white water rafting guides accompanied us on this ride and while we spent most of the morning listening to our ipods, or sleeping, he stood up when we were about twenty minutes away from our destination and gave us some safety instructions. He explained to us the different commands, the importance of paying attention to what our guide told us to do, and the procedure to follow should we fall out. SHOULD WE FALL OUT.
We had a huge breakfast when we got to the river. Our guide told us to eat up. Paddling through rapids is a strenuous activity. I heaped the gallo pinto onto my plate (we eat rice and beans at every meal here, but they are only served mixed on your plate ahead of time when you have them for breakfast) and I went for a second helping of yogurt because I haven't had any before or since. We organized ourselves into groups and then headed down to the river bank. In each boat there were six students and one guide. These guys could have easily have
been friends with the Ticos who guarded our lives when we went on the canopy zipline. They too know something about the art of steeze.
It turns out they also know something about the art of "choteo" (joking or kidding around). Perhaps I was more aware of this the subtleties of this art form because I had just spent an entire class discussing it in my Costa Rican writers class, but it certainly stood out. I had just finished reading an article by the Costa Rican writer Yolanda Oreamuno, in which she mentioned the importance of "choteo" in the composition of the Costa Rican identity. Stereotypically speaking, the Ticos have a reputation for being a passive group of people. While Oreamuno's article was primarily a criticism of this passivity, she paid homage to the art of "choteo". She expressed a sort of pride calling it an "arma blanca". It's like a white firearm. Humor; subtle humor, witty humor, well-executed humor, is a tool, it's an artform, it's a weapon. Oreamuno's proposition was that it is within this realm that Costa Ricans most often advocate for themselves. When they are kidding around, they leave their passivity behind. There's a certain
liberation associated with humor. And the most ingenious humor always contains an element of truth. The way I see it, humor keeps us grounded. None of us are above being the subject of a joke now and again. And where would we be if we couldn't laugh at ourselves? LIFE is funny. You have to laugh.
Our guides laughed. It seemed they spent the whole afternoon laughing. And there were times when the echoes of their laughter was the only thing that relieved the tension I felt between my shoulder blades. Because white water rafting is no joke. I'm not an expert when it comes to white water rafting, but if I remember correctly, I'm pretty sure most of the rapids we went through that day were classified as levels 3 and 4. I believe our guide told us the highest level you are allowed to go on commercially is a level 5. For someone like me who had never been rafting before, it was intimidating. The importance of following the instructions of your guide was pretty clear very early on in the morning.
I understood that when we were on the bus but it wasn't until I
fell into the river that I felt it. I'm not even sure what happened exactly. The whole ordeal only lasted a couple of minutes but it seemed like forever. According to my memory we were in a particuarly rough spot. And I wasn't the only one to fall out. But while my friend was able to grab on to the raft once she was in the river, I wasn't fast enough. I went under and when I came back the water was rushing all around me and it was pushing me. Fast. I remember telling myself to stay calm. They'd warned us on the bus not to panic. In addition to the guides who directed our boats there was a rescue man who stuck with us the entire day paddling along in a one man kayak. His job was to get those of us who fell into the water back to our boats safely. I remembered they told me not to worry about my paddle, I remembered they told me not to try and swim in any particular direction. I remembered that I was supposed to wait for the kayaker to get to me, grab on to his kayak and
let him bring me back to my raft. I remembered all that. I forgot how to hold myself so as best to avoid the rocks in the interim. I think the bruise I got on my left leg is just about healed. But it's been almost a month. After my friends pulled me back on board our guide turned to me and said, "I don't understand, that rapid was level one. Why'd you choose that one to fall out?" "Choteo".
Ah, but I did love our guide. We called him "Peluche". We thought that was his name. His coworkers told us it was. Peluche, though, means teddy bear. He must be a little older than the other handsome young guys he spends his days with and I don't think they're planning on letting him forget it. Unless we were approaching a particularly rough spot, he spoke Spanish with us. He had us chase after other boats, intiated water fights, joined us in an impromtu rendition of "I will survive", pointed out birds and a tree called "the naked indian", and explained to us that the cables we saw were put in place by the government. We were in such
a secluded place that the a portion of the incredibly small population of Costa Rican indigineous people lived on the other side of the river bank. The wire cables were designed to give them a way to cross the river with relative ease, if they want to.
We had a picnic lunch, we had a swim in the calmer water, we had a moment of fear when Peluche dived out of the boat and held his breath underwater for what seemed like an impossibly long period of time. But mostly we had fun. We sang and we laughed and I used my Denzel Washington voice. Whenever we approached a level 4 rapid, Peluche would scream in mock terror. We screamed right along with him. It was exhiliarting. Our adrenaline rushed with the rapids. And I wouldn't have had it any other way.
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Aunt Eileen
non-member comment
toes in the surf, choteo, and more
Awww, I was looking for the next entry! Then I realized the date on this one was February 19, Patrick's birthday, and Caracita, he would have loved reading through your blogs, too. Your pictures are wonderful. Thanks for sharing your adventures and your thoughts, you sweet niece! Love you, miss you... Aunt Eileen P.S. I can think of some people who are very anxious to see you about now!