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Published: December 24th 2007
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Day 4. Singing in the rain. 6 am. I wander the grounds by myself. As I walk towards a huge tree filled with birds, a flock of parrots fly overhead. You can almost always hear the parrots before you see them. Stir up the heavens, they do. As I get closer, it becomes apparent I have wandered into some sort of a storage area. One of the workers asks if he can show me the botanical gardens he is developing. He takes me to a thickly forested area, which he is turning into a series of gardens that will each highlight different species of plants. We walk under a canopy of calling birds and clicking frogs—highlighted by the occasional butterfly fluttering past. The workers have already dug trenches, laid much of the drainage pipes, and created ponds that are already half filled with rainwater. These ponds will attract a host of wild life. Each area features beautiful driftwood, some laden with mushrooms: tiny white bulbs, golden yellow umbrellas, brown variegated curves springing from the wood. At one point we stop and he points out a small brown snake slithering up a slight incline. I stoop and take a picture. “I know
this won’t turn out; he blends in with the dirt,” I say. “Soil,” the landscaper yells, explaining “dirt” has negative connotations. I apologize for demeaning the ground in any way, but explain I actually like the word “dirt.” This is way too long a story, but as an English teacher I think it’s interesting to find someone in the wilds of Costa Rica that has that kind of command of the English language. That’s a very sophisticated interpretation of a fairly subtle difference. But I digress. We meander for a while thru thick, rich, wet foliage until we reach the beach where I say “adios” (my total command of the Spanish language) and head back to the entrance to the resort to resume my day. Great experience.
After breakfast—all meals at the Laguna Lodge are served outdoors under a covered patio—the tour group members don heavy-plastic ponchos and board small, very-wet open-air boats to go in search of wild life. My backpack fits nicely between my feet in a pool of water. The sky is throwing a tantrum.
The forest may abound with creatures big and small, but they aren’t all that easy to spot. However, during several forays during
the next couple days, with the help of our guides, we see howler monkeys, white-faced monkeys, spider monkeys, iguanas, lizards, two and three-toed sloths (which look like swollen balls of moss) and a wide variety of birds including egrets, herons, kingfishers, and bright-pink spoonbills. During all out trips we are whipped and battered by rain. Does it get any better than this?
Sandwiched between two boat trips, one in the early morning and another in the late afternoon, there is a trip to meet the local villagers. I decide to skip the trip into the village to give myself some alone time to drift and to write. Kirk decides he doesn’t really want to see the village either so my writing goes unattended. We do, however, have a wonderful time as we wander thru a butterfly garden watching the leaf-cutter-ants solemn processions. Brightly-colored butterflies and hummingbirds and roly-poly bees flit along with us. We also roam along the beach searching for signs of turtles—tiny, empty shells as well as small, torn leathery remnants signal nests newly opened. But no little ones, scrambling for the surf, which would have been fun to see. There are, however, tons of coconuts that need
to be thrown into the ocean. I’m not sure why they need to be thrown in, but Kirk seems to think that it’s important. I suspect that it’s a guy thing.
When we come back from the second soaking, I mean boat trip, there is a calypso duo waiting to perform in the outdoor bar area. Maggie and I head for the dance floor (Maggie, you move so well) before taking a time-out for dinner, and a frog hunt. Besides frogs and toads, Kirk’s flashlight also discovers a hummingbird roosting for the night, its beak stretched up into the night air. Then it’s back to dancing. This time Kirk disguised joins us (Maggie you move so well), and a bat swoops in to dance with us. Swirling, darting, it dances just above our heads. “I’m in Costa Rica and I’m dancing with bats!!!!!!!” The group drifts off to their bungalows—a few moments for a private dance on the tiled floor outside the gift shop. Oh, my, gosh. Just when you think it can’t get any better. It does.
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Dot Whitelaw
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Traveling along w/you
Hello Susan, I am traveling along with you ! I do leave you on a few of your Journey's - I watch but the snakes etc or not my cup of tea -only from a distance - The scenery has been beautiful, dancing looks great - food sounds good ! I could loose weight on the food ! You have this travelblog down to a tee - you only get better, sounds like you are enjoying company !