On the Road

Savoring Peru: Machu Picchu

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The ruins of Machu Picchu cling to the hills above the Urubamba River. Two mountain peaks feature ticketed hikes for a bird’s eye view of the famous Inca citadel. We chose to climb Montaña Machu Picchu, billed as taller but easier to summit than Huaynu Picchu. Much to Stella’s chagrin, our ticket time was 7 a.m. Ian agreed to meet us at the park with his dad and the kids around 9.

Tony and I had a vision of being the first ones in the park, so we dragged Stella down, down, down to the bus stop at 5:15 a.m. only to find the line stretching back up, up, up the hill.

The night sky gradually gave way to dawn, dashing my hopes of a Machu Picchu sunrise photo. Buses came and went, and finally we boarded one for the 30-minute ride up the winding narrow road to the historic ruins.

I had been dreaming of a guided tour since we booked this trip. I couldn’t wait to hear the stories and ask my questions. I immediately latched on to a guide at the entrance, and she told us she had two other English speakers ready to go. Fortunately, I remembered we had tickets for the mountain hike. “You need to do that first then,” the guide said. “You need to go now!”

She was right. We followed the signs to the Montaña entrance and waited in yet another line for about 15 minutes. We got a quick glimpse of the ruins before fog rolled in, which made us a little grumpy and concerned that we wouldn’t get to see the panoramic view spotlighted on every postcard.

Eventually, we reached the entrance to the mountain hike, showed our passports, signed in to a huge registration ledger, and began the trek.

We had a little giggle at this sign. “All are stairs. 2670 stairs.” It’s like they were asking, “Are you sure you want to do this? Do you REALLY understand that ALL are STAIRS?” Tony kept repeating, “All are stairs!” as we climbed up all the freakin’ stairs. And it’s not like the Incas put much effort into building this staircase with equal-sized steps, or maybe the stones have eroded in the last 500 years. The uneven surfaces, combined with sheer drop-offs and breath-sucking altitude, created quite a challenge for three out-of-shape travelers. That said, Stella reached the top about 10 minutes ahead of Tony and me. She said she used speed skating arm movements to create momentum and got in a rhythm.

For some perspective, here are some of the steps we climbed.

Our early start paid off. While there were other hikers on the trail, we rarely encountered each other on the trip up in the cool morning air. We were among the first 20 or so people to reach the summit after about an hour and a half on the Incan StairMaster.

Overlooking the UNESCO World Heritage site, the Historic Sanctuary of Machu Picchu.

My fantasy of a zip line back down the mountain didn’t materialize. We had to hike down the way we came up, which turned out to be much, much harder on our knees and exhausted quads. At one point, Stella said, “I can only step down with my left leg! It’s like my right leg is attached to someone else.”

We also had to flatten ourselves against the hillside repeatedly to make space for passing climbers. Several doubled over, panting, “Is it much further?” I felt a bit sorry for them, hiking up in the blazing sunshine, but it felt good to say, “Oh yeah, you still have an hour to go!”

Our roundtrip hike took about three hours, so Stella missed her 9 a.m. meeting time with Ian. Fortunately, he had found the entrance to our mountain hike and wrote her a note in the registration ledger, which she saw while signing out. What a smart guy!

Oh, I failed to mention that every book and every blog we had read about visiting Machu Picchu warned emphatically, “You can NOT bring any food or water into the park!” So we didn’t, and we nearly died. By the time we reached the bottom of the mountain, we were dehydrated and exhausted. Visitors who climb one of the mountains are allowed to leave the park and re-enter once. That gave us the opportunity to gulp down some water at the park’s café. Craving both salt and sugar, I also slammed a Sprite and ate a bag of Doritos. (By the way, we saw scads of tourists with bottles of water inside the park. Dang it.)

After our rest, we re-entered the park, and Stella took off to find her family. By then, I knew I didn’t have the stamina for a tour. Tony and I wandered around the ruins, listening in occasionally to other people’s guides. By the time we had followed the marked paths through most of the site, the afternoon tour groups were flooding in. Seemed like a good time to get out of there.

During our travels, I read the book Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step and a Time, by Mark Adams. Both hilarious and enlightening, the book offered fascinating glimpses into the Inca Empire and the generations of researchers who have tried to understand it. The author details his re-creation of the journey that led to Machu Picchu’s “discovery” by controversial Yale University professor Hiram Bingham in 1911. Bingham thought he had found the legendary Vilcabamba, “the lost city of the Incas,” where the last Incan rulers ultimately lost their battle with the Spanish conquistadores in 1572. (In fact, Vilcabamba is now believed to be located at the ruins of Espíritu Pampa, which was also discovered but dismissed by Bingham. American explorer Gene Savoy led the excavation of that site and found it to be much bigger than Machu Picchu.)

Want to know more? Here’s a comprehensive article about the Inca Civilization from the Ancient History Encyclopedia website.

I’ve been sitting here, typing and deleting, typing and deleting, typing and deleting as I try to describe Machu Picchu. It feels impossible to capture it … the glory of its sacred valley, the mystery of its purpose, the interconnectedness of its construction with celestial symbolism, the genius of its architecture, the whimsy of its llamas grazing on ancient terraces, the shadows cast by its holy mountains. Occasionally while walking through the site, I found myself alone. Tony would wander off during a break in the rolling waves of tourists. And I could turn in a slow circle, imagining life as it was when up to 1,000 elite Incans came here for a little luxury get-away (that’s one theory, anyway), never bothered by invading Europeans. Must have been pretty special.

Woo hoo! A break in the fog.

How did the Incas carve these stones with no steel tools?

Terraces for farming withstood heavy rains and featured brilliant drainage systems.

As we discovered in the rainforest of Costa Rica, Tony’s superpower is spotting wildlife. He did it again at Machu Picchu. It looked like a rabbit-squirrel hybrid, but we think it was a chinchilla.

Enjoying the view.

I could have sat here, staring at this all day, if only 90 million people weren’t about to stampede over me.

Tony appreciating our parting shot.

This short National Geographic video offers a nice description of Machu Picchu.

On the Road

Savoring Peru: Aguascaliente

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Tuesday morning, we rose with the roosters, collected our packed breakfasts (sandwiches and fruit), checked out of the hotel, and piled in a van to the train station.

The Peru Rail train was packed with travelers heading to Aguascaliente, which is the jumping off point for visiting Machu Picchu. Tony and I sat at a small table facing a couple who had somewhat lower hygiene standards than ours. Between naps, I marveled at the landscapes zipping by.

Tony said the train ride was a highlight of this trip. “I’ve been lucky enough to see the Great Wall of China, the Roman ruins of Ephesus, the pyramids of Egypt, the hidden city of Petra” he said. “To be honest, the Inca ruins were cool, but the mountains made me really happy.”

Shots out the train window:

I had arranged for someone from our Aguascaliente hotel to meet us at the train station. After some initial confusion, we found him and then looked around for his car. That’s when we realized there were no cars. He led us up a steep hill, over a bridge, up another steep hill, over a ramp, up some steps, up another steep hill, to the tippy top section of town, and then up a flight of stairs at the hostal, Samananchis Machupicchu. Keep in mind that we were not only dragging our luggage but also dragging our altitude-affected bodies, hearts racing and breath coming in raspy gasps.

After checking in, we wandered out for lunch and landed at Mapacho for Peruvian cuisine and craft beer. Actually, their sign said “CRATF beer,” but it was still pretty tasty.

Hordes of sweaty tourists mob Aguascaliente each day. They eat, drink, and maybe sleep here before lining up for blocks to catch a bus up the mountain. The town exists solely to meet the needs of these travelers jonesing for a glimpse of Machu Picchu. People had warned us that it was the kind of place where you want to get in and get out ASAP. To my surprise, the town was touristy but quaint with lots of outdoor sculptures, a colorful artisan market, decent restaurants, friendly people, and even a French bakery (where I had a buttery pain au chocolat and great coffee), not to mention 360-degree views of the Andes.

Quite a few friends were traveling in Peru during this break. We met up with Paul, Traci, and their two kids, for drinks overlooking this courtyard. Although we liked to believe the town was flying a gay pride flag, it turns out it is actually the flag of the Inca empire. I guess that makes more sense.

On the Road

Savoring Peru: Quick stop in Cusco

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We spent much of this holiday waking up early to travel and then waiting in lots of lines. Monday morning was no different. We headed to the airport at the crack of dawn for our 9:44 flight to Cusco.

Our ultimate goal for this trip was to visit Machu Picchu, but there’s no easy way to get there. You have to fly to Cusco, catch a train to Aguascaliente, and then ride a bus up the mountain to the site.

The Lima airport defies logic. Most airports offer few entertainment options until after you get through security. In Lima, however, you can poke around in a variety of shops, wet your whistle in any number of bars, or fill up at the expansive food court before getting in line for the security check. Wise seasoned travelers such as ourselves know that you should get through security as soon as possible, so we did. Unfortunately, the other side of security was like Siberia. Not a single restaurant. One snack bar. One souvenir shop. And our flight was delayed for more than three hours.

By the time we reached Cusco and checked in to our cute little hotel, we were all famished. We met up with Ian’s father, Peter, who had flown from the States, and we all walked down the hill in search of food. We arbitrarily chose the restaurant, Morena. Reviews were mixed, but I loved my meal, and I was starting to see how easy it was to be vegetarian in Peru. In fact, the Incas in this region cultivated quinoa, which continues to be a Peruvian staple. I ate a LOT of quinoa on this trip and never tired of it.

Guinea pig is another staple here. Crispy tandoori guinea pig? No thank you!

Cusco was gorgeous. I was looking forward to spending more time here on our last day in Peru. For now, it was just a stopover.

Our hotel, Tambo del Arriero Hotel Boutique, featured a central courtyard, bold colors, and quirky decor. We were too tired and full from our late lunch to venture out again for dinner, so we met up for drinks and crashed early. We knew we had another dawn departure planned.

On the Road

Savoring Peru: Eating our way through Lima

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As Chile celebrated Dieciocho, Tony and I skipped town for a week in Peru with our friends, Ian and Stella, and their two girls. But first things first, we had to welcome our latest house sitters, Kathy and Leigh, with our customary pisco sour toast at our favorite restaurant, Tiramisu.

During our trip, these lovely Aussies sent several updates with photos of Ella, who clearly didn’t lack for attention.

For our first stop in Peru, we landed in Lima and stayed at a nice little Airbnb in the Miraflores district. A friend from our New Delhi days, Alicia, recently moved here to work at the The American School of Lima, so we basically spent 24 hours eating with Alicia and seeing nothing else of the city. For our first meal, we enjoyed delicious traditional Peruvian fare at Panchita.

The next morning, Tony and I found a local café for a light breakfast and then walked to Alicia’s incredible apartment. The vibrant Miraflores neighborhood sits on a cliff that overlooks the Pacific Ocean, so the walk featured stunning scenery. The district’s quaint streets were lined with restaurants, cafés, pubs, and shops. We paused to join spectators at a small skateboard/dirt bike park for a few minutes, and then strolled along the cliffside promenade.

At Alicia’s 10th-floor apartment, I couldn’t get over the view! Alas, we had to leave. Gluttony awaited at one of the world’s top-ranked restaurants, Astrid & Gaston.

According to the restaurant’s website:

Our story began in 1994. Upon finishing their culinary studies in Paris, Gastón Acurio and Astrid Gutsche founded their eponymous restaurant in a small house in the district of Miraflores. At first, the restaurant was quite French, as it was dictated by the global trend. Over time, it became decidedly Peruvian. We embraced our culture and flavors, experimenting with local ingredients and recipes with one goal in mind, to promote our cuisine around the world.
In 2014, on our 20th anniversary, we left Cantuarias Street to start a new project: to settle in Casa Moreyra, the 17th century San Isidro estate. Today, Gastón and Astrid, together with a young team of chefs, are in constant search of new flavors and ideas to offer.

We opted for the 15-course tasting menu, and Alicia and I added the wine pairings. This was the menu. Eeek!

With my recent (and unfortunately timed) adoption of vegetarianism, Alicia’s aversion to seafood and other slimy things, and Tony’s disdain for vegetables, we created some challenges for the chef. Somehow, it all worked. The servings were small but packed with deliciousness. Some of the presentations were a bit cheesy, like the first one, “an indecent bed,” which came on a sculptural plate shaped like a bed, but I had no complaints. Almost five hours later, we were comfortably full, a bit tipsy, and feeling giddy.

Back in Alicia’s neighborhood, we walked along the promenade. She hadn’t yet ventured down to the water since moving to Lima, and I certainly couldn’t NOT touch the ocean. We walked down a lot of steps and crossed the road on a pedestrian bridge to reach the rocky beach.

One perk of international teaching for so long is we know people practically everywhere, and reunions are always special. Thanks for hanging out with us, Alicia!

Chile, Daily Life

Dieciocho Party Shenanigans

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It’s party season in Chile. Fiestas Patrias celebrates Chile’s freedom from Spanish rule, commemorating the first governing body in 1810 and also honoring the army. Collectively known as Dieciocho – Eighteen – because the official celebration occurs on September 18, festivities continue for more than a week with huge Chilean flags waving in the breeze, bunting and decorations in all the shops, children parading around in traditional clothing, and huge community festivals.

At International School Nido de Aguilas, the gringos traditionally host a Dieciocho party for the Chilean staff. Pisco sours and beer flow liberally, kebabs fill the barbecue grills, and we teachers take the stage to “entertain.”

My friend, Nancy, and I cracked ourselves up planning a skit modeled on a youtube video from a few years back. Remember the one with two ladies in a car who lipsync songs while wearing costumes from each era? Well, we thought it would be amazing to do the same thing with Spanish-language tunes.

Sure, we could have practiced a bit more. And, yes, we were scrambling for a car prop right up to the last minute when we miraculously scored the school’s golf cart. But we had fun, and it turned into a dance party, so you can’t ask for much more than that, right?

Felices Fiestas Patrias, Chile!

Florida, On the Road

Florida Family Time

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Tony and I just got home from Peru, and I was sitting down to write about our trip when I realized I never finished writing about our last trip. Such a blog slacker.

After our visit to Costa Rica, I ditched Tony and popped up to Florida to sign the paperwork on our new house and hang out with my family. We found a cute furnished home on the golf course, just a block from my parents, and we’re hoping it will be a hit with snowbirds seeking a seasonal rental. It was in pretty good shape, but the previous owners had rented it out for a long time without much TLC.

I did a cursory inventory of the house and hauled a lot of bedding, dishes, and random objects to a local thrift shop and the garbage. The sellers seemed to have dumped all their unwanted junk at this house before signing it over to us.

I have mixed feelings about owning a home in a 55+ neighborhood, even if it bills itself as a “fun and affordable active adult community where everything you could possibly want, need, or dream of doing in your retirement years is just a golf car ride away.” The town makes a few exceptions for buyers who are (just barely) too young for the ‘hood. When I got my Villages ID, the community center workers made me feel like a teenager. “You’re so youuuuuung!” they crooned.

We decided to task my mom with the job of getting the place rent-worthy. She found many ridiculous former “fixes,” such as shutters hung upside down and kitchen drawers reinforced with a paint stirrer and a broken yardstick. She swore she could make the repairs and decorate by the end of September. The only stipulation: “I have a vision, and you don’t get to say anything about it.” Hmmm… I don’t know many contractors that include a clause like that. But hey, she’s doing it for free and she has a knack for this. We call her “business” La La La Decorating. (You know, like when you hold your hands over your ears and say, “La la la, I can’t hear you!”)

Lucky for me, my whole family decided to spend spring break in The Villages. My sister, Kate, and her gang drove down from Michigan, and my brother, Mike, and his clan popped by Florida en route from Korea to their new home in Abu Dhabi. My other sister, Megan, and her family recently moved to Florida, so they drove about five hours to join the fun.

That was a whole lot of chaos at my parents’ house, so I hauled all seven nieces and nephews up the street to my vacant house. They played with legos and army men, made slime, wrestled, and colored. We had an epic pillow fight with the many trash-bound pillows left by the previous owners.

For my Super Auntie moment, I had planned a special presentation about Costa Rica. The little cuties all sat at my feet like they were in circle time at school while I shared fun facts about the different places we visited and showed pictures on my phone of the animals we spotted on our trip. At the end, I leaned down and whispered, “Guess what? I brought some of the animals back for you.”

They paraded to the living room, where my oldest nephew, Nico, had helped me set up an exhibit of stuffed animals. He made a sign and positioned the sloths, bats, squirrel monkeys, white-faced monkeys, armadillos, and a macaw on the TV cabinet. He and I had come up with a system for each kid to draw a number, and then they would go in that order to choose their animal to keep. I worried that they would fight over a specific animal or get upset if they didn’t get the one they wanted, but it all went smoothly. Their cherubic smiles swelled my heart and eased my distress at spending a cubic ton of cash on amazon to get those toys.

Of course, there was the requisite dancing in the Spanish Springs town square (accessible by golf cart from my parents’ – and, gulp, now our neighborhood).

We also went bowling one afternoon and got a lot of attention. “You guys sure have fun,” one bowling alley senior commented.

And Jack celebrated his 5th birthday poolside.

We crammed a lot of love into less than a week’s visit. Adios till Christmas!

On the Road

Farewell to Costa Rica

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I have eaten some variety of rice, beans, and fried plantains for breakfast, lunch, and dinner almost every day for three weeks. You would think I’d be sick of it, but you know what? I looked forward to every meal. And I was feeling a bit glum this morning, knowing it was my last gallo pinto, the traditional Costa Rican breakfast.

Tony, on the other hand, was totally psyched to find Froot Loops at the hotel breakfast buffet. “I feel like I have to eat this since I saw three different kinds of toucans on this trip,” he said.

I’m writing this at the San Jose airport (Costa Rica, although google maps kept defaulting to California), waiting for my flight to Orlando. Tony and I have been living abroad and traveling the world for 18 years, and this was one of our best trips ever. I feel pretty certain we’ll be back!

With one more week till school resumes, Tony is heading home to Santiago, and I am on my way to see my family. All three siblings will be there with their spouses and kids, and I’ll crash on my parents’ sofa. There will be no peaceful morning coffee with toucans, but my mom has parakeets, and my nephews are actually not that different from the squirrel monkeys we saw playing in the rainforest canopy.

I just hope someone knows how to fry plantains.

On the Road

Costa Rica or Bust! Hacienda Barú

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In preparation for this trip, Tony and I read Monkeys are Made of Chocolate, a wonderful collection of essays by an American who came to Costa Rica as a cattleman and became a naturalist. The author, Jack Ewing, shares fascinating and enlightening anecdotes about his encounters with wildlife on his property, which he gradually transformed from pastureland to a lush nature reserve called Hacienda Barú National Wildlife Refuge. The reserve encompasses 830 acres of protected area with a variety of habitats, including tropical rainforest, swamp forest, mangrove estuary, pastures, river banks, and beach front.

When we awoke to another overcast morning yesterday, we decided to ditch our beach plans and instead visit the place we knew so well from Ewing’s book. We reached Hacienda Barú in about half an hour and bought our day pass to the trails. Timidly, I asked if Ewing was available and was told he generally arrived at about 8:30 a.m. I seriously got giddy at the thought of meeting him.

We hit the first trail, which was wide and flat. Right off the bat, we found a hummingbird, a small agouti (the oversized rodent), and some capuchin monkeys.

The easy path branched off and crossed the main road to lead up a hill to the Lookout Trail. No longer wide and flat, this trail was steep and muddy but amazing.

When we finally reached the top, we were drenched with sweat and panting to catch our breath. But this was the view, so …

A sign at the top explained that the Lookout Trail passed through a section of Hacienda Barú that was the first to be restored back to its natural state after several decades of deforestation for crops and cattle pasture. A photo shows the barren hillside from 1979, when workers stopped chopping weeds on the hillside. Another picture, from 2015, illustrates the forest’s resilience with dense, mature vegetation, the way it looked for us on this day.

The challenging trail continued for about another half hour’s walk around the top of the hill, and then we headed back down. At the bottom, we met an old man who was chopping wood. He told us he’d been working on this hill for 25 years, helping to keep the trail accessible by cutting steps into the earth and reinforcing them with his wooden shingles and stakes. Although his work seemed tedious and hot, he wore a big smile and seemed genuinely happy to receive our appreciation.

All of the trails we hiked featured informative signs about the flora and fauna, and some had nice little touches like sunken tree stumps or wooden sidewalks to help us pass the particularly wet or muddy sections.

Possibly the most enthralling creature we encountered on this day (and frankly, on our whole trip) might be the smallest: the leafcutter ant. I mentioned it in a previous post, but at Hacienda Barú, we saw some mind-blowing ant trails. One sign said Ewing had followed a trail for more than half a kilometer between its source and its nest. Can you imagine the equivalent distance for an animal of our size? According to the BBC, a leafcutter ant can carry a piece of foliage 50 times its weight. That would be like me walking half a kilometer carrying a cow!

Check out this video. It’s insane!

At the end of the trail, we followed the road down to the beach. Ewing writes about the importance of this coastal property on his website. It is one of a few areas along the coast with long stretches of Indian almond trees, which provide food for scarlet macaws, squirrels, capuchin monkeys, parrots and parakeets, he said.

The scarlet macaw disappeared from this area in the late 1960’s as a result of overhunting, deforestation of old growth forests that provide nesting sites and a marked decrease of the Indian almond tree from the beaches. Wherever people move to the seashore one of the first things they seem to do is destroy the almond trees and plant coconut palms. On shorelines where there is a thick natural stand of almonds with a healthy volunteer nursery of young trees underneath, the beach always remains intact. The thick tangle of roots holds the sand in place forming a natural barrier to the heavy wave action during stormy periods. There is a minimum of erosion of the line between beach and land. In contrast, where coconut palms have been planted the waves wash away the sand between trees and underneath the ball of palm roots causing them to fall over.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Jack Ewing’s legacy. By creating this nature reserve and launching his education, conservation, and research projects, he is helping to ensure future generations understand the importance of protecting this fragile ecosystem. His writing reflects a voice of compassionate intelligence with a little folksy self-deprecation, which made me worship him a bit.

When we wrapped up our hike, we popped in to the office to see if Ewing was there. He kindly came out to the reception desk to greet us, and I acted like a prepubescent girl meeting Justin Bieber (or whoever is cultishly cool now with that crowd). I gushed about how much I admired him, and I thanked him profusely for creating such a special experience for visitors. I blathered on about what a powerful impact he has made in the region. And, well, shoot, I don’t know what else I said, but I’m sure it was embarrassing. Anyway, we shook hands, and I skittered out of there without taking a photo, dang it!

On our way back to the hotel, we stopped at a roadside restaurant where we had eaten delicious comidas typicas the other day. The place was packed with locals watching the World Cup match between England and Croatia, so we stuck around to see Croatia win in overtime.

This was one of my favorite days of the whole trip.

On the Road

Costa Rica or Bust! Stop 5: Playa Ballena

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I had a vision of wrapping up our Costa Rica adventure with a few lazy days at the beach. We would read our books, banter about our favorite moments of the trip, and take turns cooling off in the waves while alternately guarding our bags from thieving monkeys. Alas, the one drawback of traveling to the rainforest during rainy season is, well, rain.

We’ve been pretty lucky, really. We like to get our days started early, and fortunately for us, the rain tends to hold off till after lunch. Nevertheless, we’re not having the “beach weather” I envisioned. Instead of lounging at the beach, we’re lounging at the pool, in our room, and on our terrace here at Cristal Ballena Boutique Hotel & Spa.

When I booked this place, I didn’t realize it was named one of nine “Costa Rica Birding Hotspots.” The hotel has recorded 200 bird species on site, and I am surprisingly obsessed by this.

Do you know the collective noun for a group of toucans? It’s a “durante.”

Do you know why I know that? Because a durante of yellow-throated toucans hung out in the tree next to me at breakfast on Tuesday! I counted seven. They were fascinating to watch with their top-heavy bodies. They hop like a wind-up toy up the tree branches and then soar to other trees. Two smacked beaks together repeatedly; not sure if that was aggressive behavior or if they were just playing.

We tackled the hotel’s rainforest trail, which was a mess of slippery mud after all the recent rainfall. The only real excitement was finding this track. We figured it could only have been a snake, so we tentatively poked around the area in hopes of finding a boa, but no luck. The trail ended at this huge stand of bamboo. When you see how tall it grows, it’s hard to believe it’s not indigenous.

After reading on the terrace and napping, we decided to check out Uvita Beach for lunch. We thought google maps was messing with our heads or that we just never really found the right place, but later I read that the beach essentially disappears at high tide, and there were no beachfront shops or restaurants because there was literally no beachfront.

I had heard of the restaurant at La Cusinga Lodge, so we decided to check it out. Holy moly, what an incredible place! We were greeted at the parking area and led to the Aracari Restaurant, high on the hill looking out over the jungle and the ocean. That would have been fabulous enough, but then a howler monkey put on a little show for us. He climbed from tree to tree, plucking off flowers and shoving them in his mouth. His prehensile tail wrapped around a branch while he dangled to grab a snack or reached precariously far to grab the next limb in his path. Finally, he found a good spot in the canopy to curl up for a snooze. A couple other howler monkeys came along and woke him up, and they all wandered off after a while.

This was our view, and our monkey friend is right smack in the middle, climbing down the tree.

As we prepared to leave, we noticed a delivery truck blocking our car. At the same time, I saw a sign pointing to the beach. “Let’s check out the beach while we wait for that guy to move,” I said. We took off down the path. It turned out to be a long, steep, muddy path. But it was SO worth it! We finally emerged from the jungle at this little pristine stretch of sand. Not another soul in sight. I was elated. Of course, I immediately kicked off my shoes and waded into the warm water. Rain or no rain, I will be returning to this beach for a proper swim.

Decomposers, important components in the food chain (as we learned in third grade last year).

We did not expect this to be so hard.

Almost there!

The rest of the day was filled with birdwatching from our terrace: more toucans, some white-crowned parrots, tropical kingbirds (little brown songbirds with yellow tummies), and big brown birds with the coolest name ever, gray-headed chacalacas. Not the best photos, but I blame the birds who refused to stand still.

On the Road

Costa Rica or Bust! Manuel Antonio/Quepos: Damas island mangrove tour

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Over cocktails last night, Tony and I were trying to decide what to do for our last day in Manuel Antonio. Actually, Tony wasn’t even paying attention as I processed out loud: We could go to the beach. We could do another hike. We could hang around our B&B, walking in the forest and watching the wildlife from our terrace.

Tony stared blankly at me as I counted off all the cool creatures we’d seen on this trip: sloths, howler monkeys, snakes, birds I didn’t even know existed, freaky insects, giant rodents. “You know what I haven’t seen up close? Scarlet macaws,” I said. “I’ve seen a bunch fly by our B&B, but they never stop to give me a good look.”

As Tony sipped his happy hour drink, I googled “best place to see scarlet macaws in Manuel Antonio.” The answer? The mangrove forest. So, I impulsively searched Trip Advisor for a tour in the mangrove forest, got on my phone, and booked a boat trip for the morning with William of William Mangrove Tours.

Spoiler alert: No sense waiting till the end to tell you we didn’t see any dang scarlet macaws. As I write this on our B&B balcony, about 10 of those big red jerks have squawked and flown past, mostly hidden by branches, taunting me. But I digress…

William picked us up at 8 a.m. and took us to his home in Damas, a short distance north of Quepos. We met his wife, Mary, who prepared a delicious lunch for us after the tour, and his niece, Laura, who guided our boat ride. We joined about 10 other people for a journey through the estuaries of the mangrove forest.

I may not have seen a scarlet macaw, but I did become completely fascinated by mangroves and spent much of the afternoon reading about them. (Sometimes I can’t believe how much I don’t know. How did I get to be 51 without ever learning about mangroves?)

I love this opening line of an article called “Costa Rica’s Mysterious Mangroves – A Treasured and Exotic Habitat” by Richard Garrigues, a naturalist from the States who has lived in Costa Rica since 1981.

In the nebulous zone between high and low tide, where freshwater meets saltwater and the ground is neither liquid nor solid, grow the mangroves.

Mangroves grow in brackish water, that is, water from the ocean that merges with river water at high tide. They use filtration systems to tolerate the salty sea water, and their tangled, intertwined roots create protection against strong tidal currents.

And we’re off.

On our boat tour, we saw three different mangrove species:
* The pineapple mangrove is the least tolerant to salt water and thrives upriver, where the salinity is lower. It sits on pyramid-shaped roots.

* The black mangrove is found a little closer to the mouth of the river, where the proportion of sea water is higher. This species has aerial roots that look like little straws sticking up out of the water. These pneumatophores allow the tree to breathe oxygen from the air instead of the salty soil, which is largely devoid of oxygen.

Pneumatophores look like sprouting plants, but they’re air filters!

* The red mangrove is the most tolerant of salt water and grows right up to the point where the ocean meets the river. It has prop roots, which branch off in various directions, arch above the water, and interlace with neighboring tree roots before anchoring in the salty mud. The red mango’s reproduction system is pretty wacky. Its seeds, called propagules, germinate and grow into new plants before they fall from the tree.

Capuchin monkey in a red mangrove tree.

Although the mangrove forest is home to many animals, they were mostly hidden during our visit. We saw two capuchin monkeys, a rainbow boa constrictor, a few white ibis, heaps of iguanas and other lizards, a little blue heron, a tiger heron, a gajillion little crabs, and many huge termite nests that look like big black blobs on the tree trunks. Laura told us that 90% of animals in the mangrove forest eat termites.

Tiger-faced crab.

Sleeping rainbow boa.

A massive termite nest.

Sure, I would have like to see a scarlet macaw. But, hey, it’s hard to feel disappointed when you spend the day looking at views like this.

Adventures in Teaching and Travel