Travels With Corinne: Journey To Central America

from Jacqueline

If you hadn’t guessed already, this has been a bit of a challenging year for me thus far.  A collarbone injury that refuses to heal, my prolonged bout of severe bronchitis, and having to cancel half my book tour.  There’s more, though I won’t bore you with the details.  But there was a light on the horizon – an adventure planned last November with my friend Corinne, when I thought I would have a healed collar bone in double-quick time, no chest infections or any other illness, no problems with my mother (who needs high risk hip replacement surgery), and nothing to get in the way of my book tour. You remember the saying about how to make God laugh by telling him your plans?  I’ll remember that next time I look ahead at the year and start slotting in this and that with a sense of abandon, playing fast and loose with Fate.  In March, when I complained to my doctor that I had to get rid of the bronchitis quickly, as I had a book tour to finish, plus a trip to England to see my mother ... and a trip to Costa Rica, she looked at me in disbelief and said, “You’re not going anywhere until I say you can!”

The seeds for our expedition were sown many, many years ago, when Corinne and I were in our early twenties. Confirmed travel buddies, we always said we would do a big trip when we hit the big 6-0, which was then the official retirement age for women in the UK – fat chance of being able to retire at 60 now!  Funny how those years whipped by – it was last October when Corinne emailed to say, “When are we going, and where are we going?”  And we set to planning, with one problem to overcome – everywhere we wanted to go demanded either a very long journey for me, or a very long journey for Corinne, who lives in Harrogate, England.  New Zealand, South Africa, India … every exotic country on the planet came up for consideration and was deemed too much for one of us. Then Corinne said, “How about Costa Rica?”  We checked flight times, and – on paper – it seemed that she would only have a couple of hours more travel time than me.  At last, were off to the races! 

 Let’s start with a confession – I am addicted to what I might call “travel porn.”  I subscribe to about four travel magazines, and I am a sucker for a travel memoir. I buy books about places I want to go, and I keep a file of articles on places that interest me.  I pulled out my clutch of papers on Costa Rica, and identified a travel company I thought would fit the bill, Costa Rica Expeditions.  Corinne looked them up on Tripadvisor.com and agreed – they were first class.  All I will say at this point is that Gustavo, our travel planner at Costa Rica Expeditions, has the patience of a saint – graciously dealing with two women, one in the north of England, and one in California, who would email him every couple of days asking if this change could be made, or that outing added to the mix.   Gustavo put together a really exciting trip for us, and soon the day of departure whipped around.  My doctor said, “OK, you can go – but don’t get sick.”

If you haven’t gathered this before, in previous Travels With Corinne posts, it doesn’t take much to kick start fits of giggles when we get together.  My 'plane landed a half hour before Corinne’s, so I was waiting for her when she came through the arrivals hall, and her first question was, “I think I need some colons!”  I started to laugh.  “How about some commas as a side order?” I replied – and that was it, we were off!  The stage for our adventure had been set – this was going to be a lot of fun!  (The currency in Costa Rica should be pronounced “col-on-es” and should not sound like either a part of human plumbing system, or punctuation).

We used American $$$ anyway.

I know many readers will have already visited Costa Rica, so I won’t bore you with the sort of things you can read in any travel magazine, but I want to write about those elements that really struck me during our visit, and some of our highlights. 

Our first day in the country was spent in San Jose, the capital, where we made our way from our lovely old hotel, the Hotel Grano de Oro, into the center of the city. 

We set off for a walk on our first morning, and within one block came across what looked like a street party – I guess it was, and it seemed like a regular Sunday event. The street was sealed off from traffic for several blocks to allow families to come together and enjoy a day out.  One group of kids was playing street hockey using those Styrofoam noodles and a ball, and they were having a blast!  Another group were skateboarding through a series of obstacles put up to test their expertise, and with everyone waiting his or her turn to show off their skills.  And on the next block, the BMXers were getting pretty serious about being the best – it was like being at a rodeo for kids on bikes.  Mothers, fathers, families stood and watched, chatted and shared in the fun – and not one of those youngsters was toting a cellphone or some other distracting piece of electronic equipment (and believe me, it’s all readily available in CR).

And here’s something else I noticed as we walked along – Corinne observed the same thing – that babies under the age of about a year or so were not put in strollers, or strapped to a parent so that they were facing outwards to look at every stranger walking towards them, rather they were carried in their mother’s arms, swaddled in a shawl and held close to the heart.  There was something comforting about that, as if the child were deeply cherished, and even amid the throng, would feel the mother’s (or grandmother’s) arms around him/her. I liked that - it was as if the weight of the child were nothing loving arms could not bear. 

This is one of several statues of what I guess you could call "earth mother" women around the city.  I wish I knew what inspired them - I would love to think it was the close, affectionate mothering of the women with their children.

The next morning began with the part of the tour I was secretly dreading; a flight on a small aircraft from San Jose to Tortuguero on CR’s Caribbean coast.  

You know how I feel about flying – not my favorite thing, which is pretty rich coming from someone who was a flight attendant in earlier years.  That’s when Corinne and I met, becoming flatmates, good friends, and travel companions.  But my love of travel overrides my fears – fortunately.  Yet Corinne could not wait to get into the aircraft, and bagged the front seat next to the pilot immediately. That would be the pilot who appeared as if he had been playing truant from high school to fly us to Tortuguero.  I looked suspiciously at the 5-seater Cessna (including the intrepid aviator), noting the two seats behind the pilot and Corinne, then the small seat tucked into the rear, right in front of the tail.  I gauged the weight of the two other passengers waiting to board, and I thought – with good reason, I might add – “Oh, here it comes.”  Let me first tell you something about me and 'planes – I like to sit as close to the front as possible.   Even my publisher’s publicist knows that I will put up with pretty much everything that might be thrown at me on a book tour in terms of travel, but seat me anywhere beyond about one third of the way down the 'plane, and I might just take myself onto another flight.   And I prefer a window seat, not so I can look out, but so I can close my eyes and burrow down.  I looked at the pilot and said, “I don’t like sitting at the back.”  He regarded me with pleading eyes.  He said nothing, as if he knew I’d understood what was needed.  I held up my hands in resignation.  “I know,” I said.  “You want me in that little seat so the load and trim of the aircraft is within legal limits don’t you?”  “Yes, I really do,” he said. “Or we will never get off the ground.” 

That's Corinne, having leapt into the seat next to the pilot.

As we taxied down the runway I was wondering how I would get out of that thing if we needed to a) abort take-off,  b) crash land on terra firma, or c) crash in the sea.  I figured my plan would be to whack out the window, climb over passenger #3 having shoved him into passenger #4, and either swim or run.  Corinne could get herself out for nabbing that front seat before me!  I must admit, I also took some nice photos – I realized that if I didn’t look out the window, I would have to look at the joins in the metal inside the Cessna, and they sort of moved a bit. 

Thankfully, we soon landed in Tortuguero to be greeted by guides from the Tortuga Lodge, which was situated across the river. They walked towards us with umbrellas (yes, it was raining, a happy sight for someone from drought-stricken California, not so much for a lass from the north of England), then helped us board a small boat to take us to the Lodge, where we were met by a waiter bearing a tray glasses filled with the most delicious blend of fresh fruit juices I have ever tasted.  Ah, now we were in the Costa Rica we had come to see.  Now the adventure would truly begin.   Now we would need the insect repellent.

Next week:  On toucans, teaching English in the village school, a walking tree, lunch with the iguana and white-water rafting to the Pacuare Lodge.