The Observer Begins to Emerge... I Relax

“Time is swift, it races by; Opportunities are born and die... Still you wait and will not try - A bird with wings who dares not rise and fly.” A A Milne


The Ride - Day 5 began at 3:40 AM, as the alarm woke me from a restless sleep. The driver was coming at 4 AM to take me to the regional airport for my flight to Tortuguero, a town in the north east corner of Costa Rica, with fresh water rivers next to the ocean, the town contained in the area between them, all 400 meters wide and miles long. Arriving right on time, I take my 28 lbs of backpack outside and climb into the car. The streets are deserted, the dawn has not yet come and the alarm-a-birds are silent. (Costa Ricans love hearing their car alarms - they go off regularly all day and persist for minutes before silencing - name courtesy of Denny). conversing with the driver, we make our way to the outskirts of the city, for I must be there just after 5AM. Barreling down the highway with plenty of time to spare, then disaster - the highway is closed. We exit where requested, and then he tells me he doesn't know how to get to Pavas, the airport, and has never been there. Talking on the phone with his boss and his dad, shifting and making u-terns, careening around the corners, blowing through stop signs at 30 kph, we get closer. Stopping to ask a man on the street, who gesticulates, not having a clue where to go, peeling off, finding a parked cab, stopping, rapid fire Spanish, then along the road once again, a couple of rights, over a speed bump too fast, jarring my fillings from my teeth, we find the unmarked road and spy a runway. Still dark, we arrive but five minutes late. I am only cursing the fact that I drank too much coffee before I left.


The Flight - Nature Air is the name of the company that flies to other cites and areas in Costa Rica, The planes seat up to 18 people, twin prop airplanes, shiny and new, smart looking pilots in crisp uniforms - speaking perfect English to the four passengers on the flight, three Americans and me. A wonderful 26 minute flight ensues, with the take-off reminding me of the car ride, a roller coaster of turbulence as we catapult into the air, calming as we reach about 1500 feet, skimming over the mountain tops, playing with the clouds.

As we descend and land flawlessly, I see the ocean next to me. I am picked up by the water taxi that moves along the river on the other side of the strip of land. Like the canals of Venice with a rain forest of buildings. Dropping off my bags at the hotel, I walk. Along the beach, a deserted black sand beach at 7am. Combined with a light mist, a pounding surf and a surpisingly fresh smell, I wander for an hour and a half. Joining me as I find the beach is a four legged creature that I call Sam. Sam likes me, and likes sniffing stuff and marking his trail on all bits of wood that cross his path. Sam decided I was his new friend. So Sam and I meandered along the surf, feeling the water wash over our feet. He was respectful, content to walk beside me, bounding ahead to meet other dogs, greeting them in the same ritualistic way all the world over.

Then one of them joined us, and we walked down the beach, no one wearing shoes, the sand becoming littered with 10 feet. Our acquaintance peeled off (to greener not pastures?), and the two of us amicably continued, feeling the breeze, watching the waves break and enjoying the morning. Eventually, we turn back, as breakfast is now available to me, and as we find the exit from the beach to the hotel, another human comes from the town, and Sam decides to go see him. We part without goodbye, for I shall see him again tomorrow.

There's thousands of incubating turtles under this sand, that will emerge daily and scramble towards the sea, running the gauntlet or predators lying in wait, protected by humans that have embraced their plight. the beach runs for miles and miles, and throughout the day,  I walked along the shore, feeling the stress of life dissipate into the air, feeling the hot sun on my skin (note to self - RE-APPLY sunscreen), the coarseness of the sand between my toes and the warmth of the water on my legs.  

When has French toast, fresh fruit - papaya, banana, pineapple, orange juice and coffee ever tasted so good? When you're on the back veranda, facing the river at Casa Marbella. I am in heaven with a breeze. When the resident cat slinks though your legs and purrs and even bites a bit, when the water taxis surge by, when the river otter swims next to you, when the birds sing in the trees. When the 30 foot long boat goes by with a stand up Coke cooler?! That's a mean thirst.

When I first come to a new place, I observe what is happening around me. Partly to reassure myself that all is well, partly for entertainment and mostly because the human race fascinates me. There are billions of us, and more every day, and each of us has dreams. It's overwhelming to actually contemplate how many of us share this planet. 


In a small place called Tortuguero, there are probably about 1000 of these humans. And seemingly 1000 dogs, and so far one cat, although I am sure more are hiding from the dogs. Many of the humans here are children. The small boy, probably three, with the great big blue umbrella, twisted out of its original shape, covering his whole body, then he coyly peeks out at passers by, smiling and hiding again. The little child in the bike carrier, almost asleep. Other observations - the man who serves fruit ice drinks on a mobile cart, making each one, crushing the fruit and serving them in cups made from casava. The five tourists, one with flowing pants, a puppy barking at her, then grabbing the pants and not letting go - all the way down the dirt path, she would stop him and he would run up to her again and bite on her pants. Her friends trying to help but laughing too hard. She's laughing too as the dog keeps hounding her. As they round the bend, the dog still won't let go...


I loved watching the man on the beach, fishing into the surf. One line stuck on a pole, waiting for a strike, the other wound up on a round contraption, not a pole, then when the lure is with him, he spins the lure hard, a circular blur and then with a practiced flip of his wrist, the lure flies into the ocean. Time and time again, he would cast his line and wind it in again. And it came back empty. But is the goal to catch the fish or just to be, out there amongst such beauty, casting with precision and grace, not expecting but enjoying the process? Is this what life should be? No expectations and enjoying the process?


A wonderful meal at a restaurant run by a Uruguayan who serves Italian food, a siesta, chats with fellow travellers, plans for drinks and food, a 6am tour tomorrow of the National Forest by boat to spot something predatory, almost stepping on a large toad, not getting bit by anything. Watching and observing life.


Day 5 was a great day.