Tour de Bote & Writing

Monday, February 2 – Lunes 

8:44 p.m.

The writing workshop is fabulous.  I am learning so much.  Chief among the lessons is the opportunity to witness the vast differences in writing styles.  It’s amazing how 13 people can interpret the same directions so differently.  Each of us has a form of expression that may or may not be of interest to the others, but from which we are able to learn, grow and become increasingly comfortable with as well as aware of our own writing styles.  I never really understood the purpose of a writing workshop.  I mean really isn’t it something we just do naturally - we write.  Now that I am in one, I can’t believe I haven’t taken one before.   I marvel at the level of creativity that emerges from seemingly ordinary people - people you would pass everyday on the street and not even begin to imagine how expressive they can be.   

Part of the workshop is reading our works out loud in front of the group.  It’s a very supportive environment and there are no wrong answers or writing.  The reading a loud provides an opportunity to hear my work anew and receive immediate feedback.  We also journey in our workshop and on the very first journey I came back to write a piece of fiction!  Yes, fiction - something unlike anything I would normally read let alone write.  My theory has always been that my life is close enough to fiction so I don’t have a need to draw from the realm of imagination.  If I were to actually write the details of my life, it would be published as fiction or a memoir because no one would believe it was a true story.  The fiction piece is interesting because it deals with terror.  It flows easily without thought.  When I start thinking how it ties in or how to make it better or word it differently the flow ceases.  I have learned a new way write - one without thought.  One which demands the words go to paper.  One that promises to reveal a story of it’s own if I merely put the words to paper without looking for meaning or a theme. 

I accompanied the group on the tour de bote.  The boat tour of the Sarrapiqui.   This is my first opportunity to view the river since the recent earthquake.  I have heard stories about the color of the river, the debris in the water.  I am prepared, I do not expect to see the same Sarrapiqui I have come to know over the years.  As we arrive, things are different again.  Costa Rica is known to me as the country where nothing really remains the same.  I think I would be shocked if everything was the same from one year to next - as it has changed each time I visit.  The dock is actually a concrete dock with a wide platform, sturdy stairs and a handrail.  Gone is the ricitdy assemblage of wood, that made getting to the boat an adventure in and of itself.  The boats are the same and Ricardo our guide is there to greet us.  As we prepare to embark on our tour, Ricardo begins to talk about the trees.  I immediately start wondering if there will be any animals as Riccardo has never spoken about the trees before.  

 The normally calm current is brisk.  The level of the river is high.  Gone is the relatively clear calm peaceful water.  It is replaced with rushing water the color and density of coffee with milk.  The current is so strong I wonder if the boat will be able to navigate with it’s usual ease.  I can smell the earth and feel the sadness in the river.  The source of the sadness eludes me.  I don’t know if it’s the sadness of the people and animals who lost their lives to the shifting earth.  Perhaps it’s the sadness of the people who depend on the river for a living or of the animals who lost their favorite feeding, sunning, resting spots.  It could be the sadness of the earth - for having shifted for changing the banks and complexion of the river for which this part of the country is named.  There is a deep sadness, one which reveals itself repeatedly with every deep, earthy breath. 

The usual cast of characters are present - the holler monkeys, sloth, iguana, long nosed bats, poisonous dart frog, iniga, egrets, king fisher and caimen.  Each one is smaller than what I usually see.  I wonder how is that possible.  What happened to the larger animals?  Wouldn’t the larger animals have been the ones to survive?   Perhaps they fled.  Perhaps the larger animals were the only ones who were able to flee.  

The tour is a success, Riccardo is wonderful.  It is always a delight and a joy to see him.  When he gets to the part about the backyard bananas, I laugh to myself as I remember the first time I took this tour.  I honestly believed Riccardo gathered those bananas from his neighbors back yard specifically for us!  I believed this with my entire being for several weeks - until Glen, the other Omega representative, told me it wasn’t true.  I remember my disbelief and disappointment as the truth of the matter began to register, Riccardo didn’t actually climb into his neighbors backyard in the dead of night and risk getting caught.  He simply went to the store.  

                                                                                                         Tuesday, February 3 - Martes I have roommates.  Some of which I am happy to see and gladly share my room with like the gecko.  Others which I prefer to not deal with but accept like the cockroach.  Then there is my repeated guest, who is not welcome, but keeps coming back, the large jumping spider.  I have managed to capture and move him back to the wild twice.  I must say, my experience in Costa Rica has made me a professional or almost professional spider catcher.  I was a little rusty the first time and the spider lost two of his legs.  The second time was a complete success.  I am hoping that I will not have to continue the process of removal and wonder if the electric spider repellent my mother gave me many years has ceased to function.  After all, having to remove a spider twice in three nights is not a usual occurrence. 

Wednesday , February 4 _ Meircoles

2:04 p.m. 

It rained all night, heavily at times.  I awoke this morning to the sound of horses galloping through a pause in the rain.  I drink water and fill containers with Kangen water, as a pause in the electricity accompanied the one in the rain.  It is my day off - dia libre.  I unfurl the yoga mat on the terrace and settle into a blissfully long yoga practice.  Practicing on my free day, to adopt the local expression, is especially sweet.  Gone are the constraints of time.  The practice becomes luxuriously long, followed with a Yoga Tension Tune Down, courtesy of Jill Miller speaking directly from my MacBook.  As my practice draws to a close I hear the familiar beep of incoming mail.  Could this day get any better?  Internet reception on my terrace, a stash of tea, hot water pot and raw almonds in my room.   I laugh and smile to myself at the delicious thought of spending the entire day alone in my room.  I drink more water, make tea, take a handful of almonds onto terrace and begin checking in with the world from the comfort of my yoga mat.  

The electricity holds, but the internet recedes as the pause in the rain lapses  It begins to rain so hard that I fear the guests will not be able to take advantage of their full day excursion.  Horseback riding, zip line, cascades, natural pool, butterfly garden, leaf cutter ants and an authentic Costa Rican meal under the expanse of a beautiful pavilion await them.  The rain continues, heavy at points.  My worry increases, the bliss of spending the day alone without human contact is slowly replaced by the awareness that I should go and check, go and see, to ensure.  We have gone with larger groups in worse rains before, but some of the hotel staff is new and I’m uncertain if they know to contact me for questions.  It is my dia libre.  Reluctantly I dress as  I wait for the staff to knock at my door.   Contingency plans are made in my head.  Tea in hand, computer on my back I make my way to Reception.  

My shoulders relax as I realize the guests went on their day long adventure.  After all it is the rain forest and rain is part of the excursion.  In four years we have never cancelled an excursion for rain.  I settle into my office for a morning of checking in with the world.  Checking on things specifically for me.  The rain continues, heavy at times.  The chill increases.  It’s 50 degrees in Florida today, 18 in Alabama, I don’t even bother to check the weather in New York.  I wonder if it is warm anywhere.  Why didn’t we, as a people, pay attention to global warming before it was too late?  Where do I have to move to be warm?  Consistently warm throughout the year.   Random thoughts continue to enter and leave my mind.  As the rain grows heavy I begin to fear for the happiness of my guests.  They have been horseback riding and zip lining in non-stop rain.  They are scheduled to go rafting.  I check the river, according to Marcia, one of the guests, it has risen 15 feet in two hours.  The river is thick, full, rushing and brown.  I wait.  I know I can cancel the rafting if I deem it unsafe.  I also know the rafting company will cancel the rafting if they deem it unsafe.   For many reasons, it is much better if the local knowledge cancels the trip.  I sit and watch as the river expands in width and the current increases.  I begin to imagine the guests rafting - it wouldn’t be so much rafting as sliding down the river.  A 45 minute raft experience decreased to a terrifying 15 minute thrill ride at the rate the river is flowing.  I see branches sail by.  The rain doesn’t appear to be stopping - the horizon, which I have learned to read over the years, indicates it will continue to rain for the rest of the day.  

The staff from Aguas Bravas is at the hotel and they want to speak with me.  I feel bad for the guides.  Up until 45 minutes ago, we were rafting - they had called to confirmed. Hungry for business, the rafting company has offered to provide transportation to and from the rafting experience.  They have lost so much this season - their prime rafting river due to the earthquake, and a significant amount of business due to the downturn in tourism.  Now they are here to advise me it is not safe in the hopes that we can reschedule.  As Adrian said ‘When America has a cold, Costa Rica gets bronchitis’.  We discuss the options, they offer to accommodate any period of time I can carve out of an already packed schedule.  We settle on the next day at 1:00 p.m..  

My guests return, soaked and ready to raft.  I corral them to tell them the news, and fear they will already be upset with the early portion of their day.  As I begin to speak I notice that despite the rain and the chill - they are thrilled.  Each one has a huge smile on their face, their eyes radiate bright light each one is beaming and full of life.  There is a small groan, but total understanding as to why they can’t raft.  The light ignites anew when I tell them it is rescheduled.  Nothing can dampen their day, for they have faced their fears and throughly enjoyed themselves today.  The beauty that is Costa Rica prevails even in the heavy rain.