Cell Block H

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After Bocas Del Toro we made the short journey north to the Panama - Costa Rica border. It was a nice relaxed crossing and a few hours later we were in the Caribbean town of Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, a place where we had been on holidays last year.
One bright, clear morning in Puerto Viejo we decided that we would rent two bicycles and some snorkelling gear and travel down the coast to Punta Uva. When we reached the rental shop the kind Canadian owner gave us a great deal, $15 for two bikes and brand new snorkelling gear. When the time came to choose our vehicle of choice, I selected the granny model, complete with a basket in front of the handlebars. The bicycle was obviously built for convenience and not comfort or performance. Nevertheless I was pleased with my choice. Clare chose the maternity model. Her bicycle came with a kiddie chair on the back wheel. Her choice worried me a little, especially as she had been commenting alot on how adorable the kids are in Central America.
We set off at 11.00am on the 8km journey. By 11.14am the chain had come off my bicycle. At this moment I realised it had been about 15 years since I had fixed a chain. Luckily for me Clare was well equipped in this regard. After several minutes of me fiddling about and moaning about the chain, Clare popped over, instructed me to put the bicycle upside down. She then promptly put the chain back on with the minimum of fuss and then leapt back onto her bicycle and told me to hurry up. I am really starting to wonder who the man is in this relationship!
The next half an hour of the journey was spent with Clare raving about how much she loved her bicycle and how comfortable it was. I, on the other hand continually complained about how sore my bum was and also about the fact that my handlebars were loose and kept falling down towards the wheel (which is actually quite dangerous, I´ll have you know). When we reached Punta Uva we snorkelled for about ten minutes before we decided we didn´t really want to snorkel and we made our way back. I wondered on the way back in these bicycles were used in Medieval Times as instruments of torture. Probably too horrific.
By the time we returned to Puerto Viejo my complaining had rubbed off on Clare. She had now decided that her saddle was also extremely uncomfortable. I was just relieved that I did not have a reoccurance of Siem Reap in Cambodia when our bicycle adventure ended with two blisters on the cheeks of my bum.
We checked out of the hotel the next morning and decided to make our way as far north as we could go. After 9 hours on the bus we arrived into the town of Liberia, 2 hours short of the Nicaraguan border. It was almost 6.00pm and as we were going to be on the 7.00 am bus in the morning we decided to book into somewhere cheap and convenient. Hotel Liberia was the place we chose. US$22 a night for the room.
Why we chose to stay here, we do not know. The hotel was based in an old decaying colonial building with the rooms surrounding an overgrown garden. There was about 6 people staying in the Hotel, all of whom were in the dorm rooms near the reception. Because we didn´t want to stay in the dorm we were given our own room on the third floor of the outer building. Although a mere 20 metres from the reception our building felt a million miles away. The building resembled a run down prison and to make matters worse we were the only occupants in the whole building. The walk to the room felt like the walk on Death Row.The film Hostel sprung to mind as we entered the room. Thankfully there was nobody trying to blowtorch us (you really have to see the film to understand).
The rooms were spacious and clean in fairness to the owners. The beds however were obviously stolen from an orphanage or from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. At the end of the bed were three horizontal pieces of wood. When lying straight in the bed my ankles were well past the wood. Even Clare, standing at a mighty 5 foot 2 inches found the bed unusually small. I fell asleep on my back with my legs hanging out the end of the bed. I awoke a few hours later lying on my belly and I noticed straight away that I was in alot of pain. Whilst my body had turned during the night my feet had got tangled up in the bed. Still half asleep and not fully aware what was happening I let a girlish scream out of me. A startled Clare asked me what was wrong and I told her that I thought my legs were broken. Quite dramatic, I know. I no sooner had the sentence out of my lips when I managed to pull my feet, quite easily i might add, out of the bottom of the bed. Feeling quite foolish I said nothing and rolled over and fell back asleep. The next morning I convinced Clare that it was just a bad dream.

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