Where I Observe My Fellow Humans And Learn About Myself

Hey kids, shake it loose together The spotlight's hitting something That's been known to change the weather...

(author's note - this is from Bennie and the Jets by Elton John - I don't know what it means - check out the rest of the lyrics and enjoy having the song in your head for the rest of your day)

I believe that this blog entry is a serious one. I'm like that - write about food and jumping in puddles and then this gets into my brain and I must GET IT OUT...enjoy...I miss you all...hugs...big gigantic hugs that make you feel loved and appreciated and cherished, as you all are. Oh, and proper man hugs for the guys...you know, just to be politically correct.

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People are people and I am just one person, trying to live the truth in myself.

Our lives are lived in our own community, our town, our country. We only hear of the plight of others in the world when there is a disaster or when our media decides that it is sensational enough or when someone famous or charismatic brings it to our attention. We believe that our causes (however misguided compared to the abject suffering happening in places around the world) are just, and we justify our existence by giving while safe in our ivory towers. We place judgements on others, and hold resentments and anger toward the status quo or to the wrongs committed by those in power that don’t heed our calls for change, and live our lives in fat, happy bubbles of safety. We are full of what I love to call righteous indignation, and it does some good when we are able to change something small, or help someone who needs it in our community. This is all okay. This is who we are. We survive, and change society a little bit at a time, hopefully for the betterment of all. 

Talking to the people I am meeting here, both tourists and Ticos, has taught me yet another valuable lesson. We are all similar. We have most of the same dreams, some of the same fears, certainly all the same emotions that come out when we talk.

I have met people who travel just to get away from their normal lives for a week. I have met people traveling to experience the world. I have met those, who due to circumstance or need, who want to move to Costa Rica to retire or to live. I have met those who are lost. 

I have heard people espouse the benefits of living the way they do, some with great vociferousness. Some with ignorance. The ignorant are the most fun to talk with…it’s mind blowing. Luckily there aren’t many of those – self-absorbed and unyielding to different customs, or even a different language.

I will not pigeon-hole people from certain countries, for they all have their ways. I have met a totally fascinating and brilliant couple – an American who lives in Amsterdam with a Brit, who has some Irish in him. I have met more than one Texan, and I hope that not all Texans are like one in particular – shallow would not come close to the right word. I have met Germans who amaze me with their outlooks on life. Sarcastic just like me! And Germans that shatter the stereotypes that I had of them. 

Australians, Dutch, Swedes, Argentinians, fellow Canadians, Filopinos, Spaniards, Californians, Panamanians and Nicaraguans. And of course, the Costa Ricans. I have met them all. I have liked most of them. I have been lucky to make new friends.

We are all similar.

I like to ask them where they stand about how the world is going. I like to get them to talk about politics and their country, for it brings me a different perspective on my myopic view of our world. Everyone is refreshingly candid about their hates and likes and opinions. I am heartened by the symmetry of our viewpoints. So much so that it has shattered many self-imposed biases that I had. This Internet thing may have brought us together, or is it that we as humans seek the same outcome – peace, prosperity, order. Or is it that on vacation, people are freer (why does freer look so weird – it is a word, no?) to expound on their philosophies. 

I have cringed to hear opinions from a right wing American and just as amazed to find the same American talking about new technologies in a totally selfless global view. I am intrigued by the paradox of that. There’s the American who does not have a filter when speaking. Such foolishness followed by a sentence of infinite wisdom. I hope there are not many like him. He was difficult, perhaps because he reminded me of my father.

I listen and contribute and learn and listen some more. The overriding thing that I have discovered is that I am free here to just be myself. I have in the past crushed my creative side, and censored my outlook, and criticized my own shortcomings, counting on my wits and a small modicum of charisma to exist in the technical world. I am not technical. I am creative.

No more can I worry about what others think. This is what meeting new people from around the world has crystalized in my consciousness. I am just me. 

In Canada, we have the freedom to change parts or all of our lives (and trust me, in the last two years, all has changed) and just move towards new goals. Some of the people I have met have no plans. Some have situations that they abhor. Others are in flux, having committed to something that is now tenuous at best; their sanity is crumbling. Some of them are searching for that next part of their life. Some of them have no choice to stay within the confines of their current existence, for they have responsibilities and perceived limitations. But they are all similar.

I have a good company to come back to in Canada. I have wonderful people to share this journey with, and I am meeting more interesting people every day. Yet, as some of you may have figured out, this journey was to see if I may want to change even more. I am not making any decisions yet, but I have found that the options are becoming clearer.

For one, I have realized that things – a house, the furniture, the baubles of my experience, the tchotchkes of my life – are not as important as a laugh or a cry or a smile or a hug or a handshake or a song, or a kiss. To experience watching children play, or listening to music, or just having a good conversation – these are the things that sustain me. It will be interesting to see what I do when I get back.

I also know that the grass is not greener, for I will always have a base in my country. I love my country, and even if the ever falling snow buries me for the rest of my life, I will want to wake up and exist with it. That said, perhaps my goal will be, as a very good friend has pointed out, to travel constantly and learn more about the world – to photograph it and write about it in my unique way. To observe, and perhaps the direction for the rest of my life will coalesce. Maybe I will even write that fiction book. 

I thought that coming here would remove my distractions for the writing. In truth, the writing will come wherever I am, and I will have to commit to it, and thrive on it. If I do this, perhaps my reality will become clearer, and the chapters will flow onto the pages, as the days in my life count down to the inevitable reckoning to come. Life is fleeting, and when it ends, I want to have left some sort of legacy… to one other human or to humanity in general.

My photographs record what my eyes see. 

My words record my perceptions. 

In my little notebook that I carry with me is the following quote, attributed to George Moore - ‘A man travels the world in search of what he needs and returns home to find it’

I am going to change that. I am finding what I need to find out about myself here. I am finding it because I have taken away my comforts, my excuses and my distractions. I have left myself vulnerable, and I am ready to listen to myself. Of course, I may come home next week, or next month, or just to sell everything. I don’t know, and it’s okay.

I am creative, passionate and caring. I am intelligent and intuitive and loving (and modest?). I am fascinated by others, and by life, and I want to play like I am six years old. Perhaps when I start to form the plan for the next half of my life, I will be able to use these attributes, and somehow make a living, being true to myself, stripped bare, surrounded by those who I love, able to experience and enjoy and love. 

Perhaps this is why I am here. 

And why these people I have met are the way they are.

I hope so. 

FOOD!!!! Oh, and habits…

One of the most interesting things about traveling around a new country is observing what people do in order to make it comfortable for them. The public spaces at hostels or hotels are full of people, myself included, checking FaceBook or emailing friends and family – net books, smartphones. We travel with cables and chargers now. There are times when I think that the world is so small. Fellow travelers exist together in a strange place, yet seek the familiar. It may even be that as we search for adventure or escape or meaning in life, we are not fully allowing ourselves the break from our actual daily life.

We are creatures of habit. Some of us do the same things every day, even if we are moving from place to place. We search for the familiar, even if the sign is in a different language or the smells are different. We seek out what comforts us. Knowing that we are close to family and friends when we are away comforts us. We can still be adventurous, but we need to connect that part of us with the world we know.

Take food for example. I am quite satisfied not to be in a culture where eating glutinous monkey brains is the norm (or where there are toilets that flush, instead of a hole in the ground). The guidebooks say that the Costa Rican food is bland. Yes, the typical food is comprised of rice and beans and more rice and more beans and maybe some meat and lots of fruit, but I find it to be wonderful. When you have walked 10km, maybe jerk chicken or curry isn’t what you need – you want stick to your ribs food. I like to eat whatever the locals eat wherever I go. It’s comfort food.

Yesterday, my friend Rachelle and I went to a local soda (the typical Tico food restaurant, owned by a family, kind of like a gathering place). I love a casado, which involves picking a meat, usually chicken or fish for me, and ordering it grilled or fried. It costs about US$7. For this staggering amount, you get the following – white rice, black beans, some sort of salad, some sort of other vegetable or salad, sometimes cheese mixed with potatoes, sometimes just fried cheese, sometimes an egg, definitely sweet fried plantain and the meat. The plate is full, and after you eat it, you are very full. There is little spiciness, subtle if any, and yet, you can mix any of the parts together and it creates a wonderful flavour. 

It simple food and it tastes so good. It’s like homemade cookies, or that stew on a winter’s day. It’s what the soda makes the best. It’s made by the family with pride and with love. You can see it when they serve it to you. The place I went with Rachelle has been around for over 30 years. It’s like Cheers, or gathering in the kitchen during a party. The energy is comforting. I could just feel the years of family and camaraderie in the place. People were talking, table to table, some sort of webcast talk show was going on in the back – laptops and loud voices and energy. It was like home. 

I have eaten a wonderful steak, grilled sea bass, stewed mango salad, Belgian waffles (at the beach), pizza, Caribbean jerk chicken, tilapia, good Chinese food, really bad Chinese food, incredible Filopino food, more pineapple than in my lifetime, papaya to die for, guanaba filled pastries, an amazing cream cheese loaf, wonderful bacon and dozens of eggs. They sell tuna with jalapenos here. Wow. They like this flavour of salt and lemon. It’s on peanuts and potato chips and my new obsession – pork rinds – not like in Canada – just puffy tasty things that go very well with beer. Oh, and bananas – which are about US$0.50 per kilo. Runs about 6-7 cents a banana.

I eat with people who I meet and once we are done the meal, the first thing we talk about is our next meal, where we are going for it, what it will be…amazing. Food brings everyone together. It creates a warmth between us. I love food.

I have drank the local firewater, Jack Daniels, great rum, many beer, diet Coke, and this thing they grow here on a hill almost around the corner from where I am now called coffee.

I love coffee. It's a habit for me to drink coffee. I drink even more coffee than in Canada. Why? Because it is just so good here. It tastes different, nutty, smoother, just a splash of milk – café con leche. I can’t wait to wake up in the morning. So I can have coffee.

I have lost weight, not much, but some. No car and you walk. Walk and you burn off enough calories that you can eat more. I like this. I have eaten few packaged things and I feel great. No aches, no pains, no sickness. 

But I digress form my new philosophy of being habitual. I am learning something very important. I am still me. I can go anywhere, and in a very short time, I will have new habits that comfort me in this strange place. They sustain me and enrich my life. They seem to revolve around food.

I must brag about something. I met someone who kicks my butt at Scrabble, and that is amazing in itself, but I finally won one game and had two seven letter words in a row and my score was 432. That’s a record for me. Feel free to applaud at your convenience.

The photos I am posting today are mostly taken on a trip with a wonderful couple I met, Christina and Paul. We went to Poas Volcano and a tourist trap called La Paz Waterfalls. The waterfall was amazing, and they had a zoo. Snakes and frogs and jungle cats and monkeys and birds and tons of butterflies. I understand that these animals were there because there are idiots in this world who try to have them as pets or are trafficking in exotic animals. They were all confiscated and cannot return to the wild. I don’t like to see them caged, but they would die if they were released. So we, the tourists, get to see them safely. A great place for photos. Not the best place for seeing things as they are in nature. But for my inner child, holy crap!

Off to another place this weekend, after house sitting for friends. Friends I have just met, and somehow feel I have known for years. Isn’t life fun?

Pura Vida.

 La Paz waterfall

So creepy...I loved this walk - 2400 meters above sea level

Don't want to know what Paul said these looked like...

 This flower is about 40 cms long

 Eeks...

Blue Morpho Pupae

Coati

Is the Grass Greener? Talk Amongst Yourselves...

If you were here, you would know that Costa Rica is not a paradise. For instance, on the Pacific coast, there are these bugs, maybe mosquitoes, maybe something else, chiggers, no see ums…I don’t know, they just bite me. I use Off. Lots of Off. More like On. Sometimes I feel it happen, sometimes I am just plain surprised! And then a part of me swells up about the size of a 100 colones coin  (that’s bigger than a quarter), and then it starts to look and act like a mini volcano, with this water liquid coming out of the top of the cone, helped along when I press it of course. ‘Cause you just have to… it's SOOOO itchy. Gross. Don’t think they’re still things inside my body. Hope not.

It’s rained in Santa Teresa, heavy, for the second straight night, since it’s still the end of the rainy season. When it rains here, it’s solid water coming from above. I walked about 10 meters and was totally soaked, like truly wet, everywhere. Helps that it’s warm water though. Kind of pleasant, I suppose. But wet. Last night, the rain was so heavy; the road to the beach was a river, an actual river. Rio Grande! This morning, they told me it’s the worst solid rain in 7 years. The roads were washed out, and the landslides meant we had to take a cow path to get to the main road on the journey back towards San Jose. The beach was a mess but the squirrels has lots to eat.

So this morning, we (five adults and the cutest baby – who giggled all the way) were picked up by a 4x4 taxi, whose amazing driver blew through rivers, up steep hills with potholes the size of his tires, streams coming from the mountains on the ‘road’…it was an excellent adventure Bill and Ted!

To get back towards San Jose today, it took said taxi, a van to a ferry - no air or openable? windows, the ferry (35C) to another van, that van dropping me in the pouring rain (it had air), waiting for a bus, that bus to the town, walking to the B&B. Total time - 7 hours. Sound like fun?

In Santa Teresa, there was no police, sewage infrastructure or water infrastructure. So we locked things up (in a safe and double lock rooms), have water delivered in big old rusted tankers, and drink bottled water and most interestingly, put ALL paper products from our bathroom expeditions into a container next to the toilet. Think about that for a minute. Yup. That’s right. NO paper products. The bags get taken away regularly, but since most of the places I stay in have shared bathrooms, it gets a bit interesting. Actually, most of Costa Rica has these little containers for the 'paper' products...

The sun burns you in five minutes. I am such a white guy. Getting browner though. Reapplying sunscreen is fun, with the sweat dripping off you, or salt water staining your clothes – or is that your sweat? But wait, it’s sunny, and hot, and there is this thing called shade that I have discovered is very good in limiting this burn. No shade on the beach though. Or you can put on clothes to cover you up and watch yourself melt instantly. I tried it one day and lost 47 pounds.

They speak this language called Spanish here. It’s really nice to listen to. Where it gets to be a bit of a problem is if you need to understand it. They speak so fast, and although the sounds that make these words are becoming more familiar, it’s still Spanish.  Also, everyone I meet knows four or five languages. I know 1…plus a bit of French, which confuses me even more since I am looking for a word and it comes to me in French before Spanish.

Did I mention the bites? 

On the other hand, I had my laundry washed a couple of times so far, and when you put on a clean shirt, smelling so fresh, it just makes you feel wonderful. There is nothing like a shower and clean clothes. Well, maybe all of this great fresh food that I am eating. And this exercise…walking, walking. More walking. I think I have lost weight, but think I can find a scale here? 

And the animals, of the pet kind. They’re everywhere, and so happy - imagine three or four dogs (and a couple of cats) pretty well everywhere, not on leashes, no poop and scoop law though; mind you, you’re already looking down at the ground because the roads are uneven and made of dirt, rocks and mud so it means you have to look down, and it’s easy not to step in anything yucky. You learn to walk in this ninja way, stepping closer to the surface, pushing the rocks out of the way and not sliding in the mud. But anyway, the dogs. They’re well behaved, respectful of humans, then one barks and suddenly there are seven dogs barking and rushing out to the street to find out what’s happening, or they just hang out and chill with you, or help you find your way. I miss my dog.

And the noises, besides the sound of the torrential rains hitting tin roofs, like wild noises, some birds with ear shattering calls, or actually seeing them, odd things that I have never seen, yellow birds, funny birds with really long beaks, tons of vultures, pelicans, hummingbirds, all these colours, so many types, can’t keep up, where’s that guidebook? Did I buy the guidebook – nope, too heavy to carry with my life in a pack. Then there’s the iguanas or lizards, big dinosaur looking things, hanging on tree branches, about to probably land on your head and eat you. Or not. 

Being on a tight budget means you are not staying at a resort. The beds are not all wonderful, the pillows are too soft or too hard, the ants are in the oddest places, and the bugs (did I mention them before) are wonderful.

Most, actually almost all of the travelers I am meeting are younger. They’re awesome. Like really. No they are. I try to keep up. Those who choose to travel that are old and decrepit like me do not backpack or stay at hostels. They do this thing called plan, and go on cruises, or stay in actual 4 or 5 star hotels, that have things like pools and thick towels where you don’t have to put your ‘paper products’ next to the toilet.

Crime against tourists seems to be fairly common, stories of pickpockets and scams and stickups…I met a tourist who got his pocket picked, heard stories of awful things, saw interesting characters watching me, was asked to buy drugs many times. I have not had any of this happen to me. The people that I have met are helpful, engaging, interesting and wonderful. Ticos and gringos. So I use common sense and just go with it. Everything happens for a reason, but I hope there isn't a reason for me to get robbed.

Nothing is cookie cutter here, buildings, houses, hostels, hotels – all seem to be made of available materials, some great and some not so great. There’s this thing called creativity here, so you get to see what people think is creative. Never work in Barrhaven (note to readers – this is a suburb of Ottaea, Canada, where every building must look the same and it’s so wonderfully exhilarating to try and find a friend’s house, even though you’ve been there 20 times – I just look for their car). Here in Costa Rica, the creativity shines through, and when you find a place that is built in a style you love, you are just blown away by the details and the passion in which it was built and maintained. Casa Zen in Santa Teresa is one of these places.

Trust me, I am not complaining, for the way to really see a country and the people is to immerse oneself in the place you are and meet other backpackers who travel with their entire life strapped to their backs. There are 7 billion people in this world, and most do not have this opportunity. Most do not leave where they are. I get to travel and choose where. I am lucky, bites and melodious languages and bugs and water and fellow travelers and tons of fun. Did I mention rain? Or mosquitoes? Scratch, itch, smile, laugh. Throw yourself in the ocean, twirl and dance badly to blaring salsa music on the ferry. 

This is not the way for everyone, but it’s my way.

I may decide to go somewhere else soon... stay tuned...

Where I Am a Little Boy Again

Hi World – I am in a hammock. I like the word hammock. Don't you? Say it out loud. It's fun!

I’m lying in the hammock on the left in this picture. (well not yet - I just took the picture)

It’s a happy hammock.

These are my feet in the hammock.

I have an old Supertramp song in my head:

When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful, a miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical.

And all the birds in the trees, well they’d be singing so happily, joyfully, playfully watching me.

(It's the Logical Song)

I have decided to be six years old.

Then I can do what I want. All day. There’s no mommy or daddy telling me that I can’t. I can eat when I want, drink when I want, sleep when I want.

It’s raining here, and I want to sit in my hammock.

Remember when life was magical, when you were a kid, wherever you were? When the awe of any  new experience includes all your senses?  When you jumped up and down just for the sheer joy of it? In puddles without boots on? When everything is overwhelming and you obsess wanting something to be done again and again? I had that feeling yesterday.

When I walked to the beach yesterday morning, it was low tide – the rocks were visible, the detritus of the night tide deposited on the beach. I became a little boy, walking among the rocks, jumping from one to the other, documenting what I saw – playing with the camera settings to show more contrast, ‘cause colour is fun, and recording. Playing in the surf, running along the shoreline, squishing my toes into the wet sand, finding my inner child once again. Putting down the camera and just watching the waves.

It was different this morning, as every day is different. The patterns change on the beach, the shells thrown into different places, the rocks and wood strewn around. Yet every day is the same, the tide coming in and going out, the water throwing up spray, the waves pounding into the shore.

As I lie here, I am reminded about how small and insignificant one person is...and as I talk to the people here, I reconnect with the world, and yet retain some of the wonder of being a child.

When I was in Canada, I wrote something about the ocean. I will paste it after the photos for someone out in Internet Land to read, if they have the time. Otherwise, enjoy the photos, and hug someone. Life is all about making connections to others, and to nature and to the child within us.

My favourite photos of the day

And of course the sunset...

We Are Sand - Landon Jones, 2011

As waves break along a shoreline, there is calm and a peace to the scene. The sun is setting, throwing calming light over the land. The water gently arrives and washes the beach, cleansing the day’s footprints and detritus. Yet, within the microcosm of this scene are raw power and pure order and chaos. For each grain of sand has been created by countless waves, each wearing down every pebble and shell into the smallest size. From a rock to a stone to a pebble to one grain of sand. The water powers along and has the vehicle of change within it. 

It is as we are in this world. Every day presents us with a fresh beach. We strive to find order within the chaos and when it does not manifest, we leave our junk along the shoreline. The world has a way to create order within its chaos. The ebb and flow of this world presents us with many opportunities to shape our life. And yet, as we are all too painfully aware, it has the power to smash our day, our life, our dreams.

As we look closer at the beach, we see that there is pureness and beauty within the chaos, with the outcome always orderly every morning, every tide, when the beach is refreshed and made new. Such is our life, for when we work towards our goals, we strive for this perfection. And yet, if we look closer, there is no perfection:  there is disorder and change in every grain of sand as it moves along the beach and is eroded by the forces of nature.

Our life gives us choices. Do we find that place in the sand where we are away from the water, where only the glare of the sun makes it too hot to move? Or do we trust that, as this grain of sand, such is our life. And we welcome the ebb and flow of the water into our day, for it helps us move. We do not stay static. Yet in the chaos of the day, we are part of the larger whole of the world. Each grain of sand clings to its neighbour, using and supporting them against the might of the water. 

It is only through the time when we can stand together that we can build. Build up our world to embrace the changes that come, to sway gently in the surf, to strive for the peace of the low tide as we rearm ourselves for the changes that come with the new tide.

When you go out in the world, make sure you stand together as the energy flows around you. Be strong, and trust each other, for when we bond together, we become larger than the sum of the individual, we become that rock amongst the grains of sand. We fight the tide and we buffet the water. We are able to stay solidly in the world. We can work on building together.