Rum, Rapids and Runny Buttholes

The Epic adventures of Rachelle and Timoteo continue!

Timoteo Flynn-Valadez, July 10th - 17th (Written sometime after)

Missed our original shuttle pick-up to the Rio Pacuare rafting excursion after waking up at 6 AM instead of 5. Fortunately we dragged our asses out of bed and grabbed an uber taxi just in time to meet up with them in front of San Jose's National Art Theater. Although weary and red-eyed from clubbing and catching Pokémon the night before we were quickly energized by our boisterous bus companions, hailing from Mexico City, a quick taste of what is to come towards the end of our trip. Meeting the water I soon realize that my GoPro is non-functional however that in no way discourages my desire the ride this gorgeous river for all it’s got. We hit the water running and it becomes apparent that our raft captain, "Avatar", is seen by his peers as a loose cannon and is the picture perfect image of a Nicaraguan country village frat boy hybrid. After our first few white water rapids the current slows and we take in the astounding environment around us. Canyon walls lavishly painted with thousands of vines, trees, flowers and ferns. Howlers hoot and holler with the robust machismo of the countless cat-callers we have endured on every city street. To be entirely candid it would take countless pages to describe even a fraction of the dense forest exploding with diverse and exotic flora, consuming every stray beam of sunlight and engorged on the flowing waters of Rio Pacuare. Watching the jungle float past us it becomes quite obvious why this is deemed one of the best whitewater rivers in the world and in fact considered the most superb in all of Central America. For this we are truly blessed.

Rocking Jay's @ Puerto Viejo:
Entering this laid back beach party hostel I am assaulted by surfer dude lingo, the smell of reefer and boots knocking in every enclosed location. Here you can rent a hammock and locker for less than a cocktail costs at the many waterside boozeries. First we booked a tent with a paper thin mattress inside and the ventilation of a tupperware container. On the second night we acquired the luxury accommodations of the Observation room, but what we call the wizard's tower for it's stellar decorations and it's magical overlook. I found this to be my first of many sanctuary's in Puerto Viejo where I could endure the adaptation of my stomach and butthole to the local bacteria. 


Continuing to recover from the effects of street meats and non-potable water at the Lionfish Hostel, I squirmed like a worm stuck on asphalt and when able to leave did a funky booty jig every ten paces that I managed to walk.  Still I managed to stomach some delicious Caribbean bacon sandwich at Bread and Chocolate, an award-winning and locally acclaimed hotspot for breakfast and delectable truffles.  

Returned to San Jose just in time to experience Felipe's incredibly unique theatrical dance production, "La Pena, Ultima Cena". This fantastic drama drew me in from the moment it began, when Felipe led the crowd waiting to have our tickets taken outside to witness the majesty of the sparse but star lit sky. Declaring that we have deluded the night sky by creating an abundance of "stars" on our own world, polluting the atmosphere so that only one can be seen, we must, therefore have to share it. He goes on to say that it is folly for us to distract ourselves with the many light sources we have manufactured here on earth and that for the duration of this play we must relinquish our cell phones so that we can remain present. Those who refused to give up their phones were forced to sit on the perimeter of the stage at dinner tables, making an example and spectacle of themselves, who represent the future of our screen stuck cyberculture. Ironically this meant that they could not use their devices, having been placed in the public eye, turned into props. As the play begins, Felipe markets a synthetic reality, represented by a beer keg which his many acrobatic actors, dance, fuss and balance over. This keg houses bottled minds and an intoxicating virtual existence where heavenly indulgence is ever prevalent. Incredible feats of balance and flexibility frolic across the stage, a ritualistic expression of something beyond our interpretation. When the play draws to a close the performers are baptized in a kiddy pool, some symbolic image which eluded our understanding, more so than any language barrier or social ineptitude. As we left the theatre we couldn't help but wonder what we had just seen. I thought that my confusion stemmed from an inability to speak the language but even Rachelle had a difficult time understanding the meaning or content of the performance. Having been told the pretense and synopsis of the play by it's author and director, Felipe, over drinks a couple weeks prior, we may have been some of the only audience members to have truly gleamed the intention of the piece, nevertheless I left feeling inspired, bewildered and full of elation, cursing myself for fiddling with my phone at the earliest possible opportunity.

Next morning we rise at 5 AM to catch the Tica bus to Rivas in Nicaragua where we transfer to get to the beach city of San Juan del Sur. Entering Nicaragua our bus is stopped and sniffed down by a "pup-fessional" and the Colombian couple behind us is pulled off the bus for a random screening which delays our trip by at least an hour.

San Juan del Sur, the rum soaked surf spot decorated with degrading European architecture and beach bungalows. Wandering in search of accommodations we happen upon a kindly old ex-pat from the states who advertises a distinctly 'nica' household as he meanders towards a stunning sunset. Once situated, we observe from our very modest third story room as fireworks bloom off the hillside to our left and our earth's glowing star departs beneath an orange ocean.

Feelin' Cabby

Rachelle Towers

Feelin' Cabby

Sleeping in is always nice, and it also seems constantly out of reach I think to myself as Teo and I stumble out of bed to find we have missed the public bus to Rivas and maybe the ferry to Ometepe. We agree we should go to bed earlier next time we have early plans but we both know that's not going to happen. So we missed the bus? What now? I absolutely dread taking cabs, and Im completely untrusting of cab drivers. If I had a dollar for every time a cab driver overcharged, tried convincing me that the bus was not running today or how I had just missed the last one in an attempt to get me and my empty wallet into their car I would be able to hire a private chauffeur for the rest of my sloth-like existence. So being that Murphy & his laws rule the universe; here we were, in a cab, going to San Jorge to catch the ferry. Hooray.

Iguana Go 2 There

Timoteo Flynn-Valadez, June 28 - July 1st (Written July 3rd)

-Tuesday-

Check out of Luna’s hostel  

Meet a guy who lives above a cafe and informs us that the Blue Hole in Belize blows

Visit the Panama Interoceanic Canal Museum 

Touch everything

Get followed by security

Monica becomes a modern day switchboard operator

Heckle the hounding security guards with questions 

Catch a taxi to the bus terminal and bid farewell to Casco Viejo

Take the bus to Santa Clara 

Get told by a cop to double back over the bridge for jaywalking across a freeway 

Get lost trying to find the beach bungalow

Pester Rachel for her lack of direction and desire to walk unknowingly to our doom on a dark empty country road 

Find out the beach bungalow business we are looking for no longer exists 

Rent a room on the playa just after nine PM

Make friends with a scrappy little beach dog

Get lost in a bizarre telenovela, where a criminal couple castrate a rapist and kidnap a rich kid, cuz’ what else are we gonna watch

-Wednesday-

Next morning we eat fried fish while looking at the ocean 

Discover we missed the bus

Rent a car for way too much from the local Thrifty

Road trip to David, enhanced by Rachel’s “Car-aoke” playlist

Everytime we passed a stray dog Monica sobbed, crying out “Who pets them?!”

Arrive late night at the Purple House Hostel  

Decide we can't sleep and go to the 24 hour market to get food for a trashy meal which only requires boiling water and a microwave to prepare (ingredients include freeze dried potatoes, frozen veggies, cup-o-noodle, Frosted Flakes and tostadas)

Eat queso by candlelight 

-Thursday-

Return the rental car and head to the next bus terminal 

Wander aimlessly until I locate where we are going and the bus we need to take to get there 

Ride the bus to Bocas del Toro province where we take a water taxi to the islands with a very boisterous pair of stony Panamanians 

Patrol the hood, eat some street meat and locate Hotel Cocomo and it’s oddity of an owner Doug (a financially unstable ex-pat with bad teeth) and his close friend Niño 

Niño, a local panamanian and his wife and kids from Michigan, offer to take us on a tour of the islands mañana 

Scoot aboot in a couple of kayaks

Grab some grub and cocktails at Munchies Express

http://thebocasbreeze.com/community/munchies-express-freestyle-die/ 

-Friday, 1st of July-

After settling in for the night, we rise to a raging shit storm outside which threatens to cancel our island tour

Fortunately the clouds settle leaving us with a mostly empty ocean and the ideal conditions for dolphin watching, where we witness these creatures engorging themselves on jellyfish while playing, fighting or fucking for our viewing pleasure only a few yards from our vessel

Snorkel off a dock beside mangrove trees where school is in session for plenty of funky lil’ fish friends

Make our way over to Red Frog Island, where Isabella innocently destroys my camera

Our new friends take us home to Cocomo and tell us that next time we are in Panama we must stay at their soon to be purchased homestead

Snorkeling in Bocas del Toro

Some Highlights:
0:09 - Sea Slug
1:49 - Lobster Cage
3:15 - Tiger Fish
4:38 - Mermaid
And lots of beautiful coral and algae festering with schools of fickle fishes
MOTION SICKNESS WARNING

Nauseating camera work by Timoteo Flynn, mermaid work by R. Towers-Cabrera

Another Juan Bites the Dust

Rachelle Towers

Another Juan Bites the Dust

In San Juan del Sur, expat retirees have big grins and can more than afford dental care but choose not to. 

In San Juan del Sur, Ivy League young professionals roam the streets like savages, drinking until they peel back their layers to chimpanzees howling and beating on their chests. 

In San Juan del Sur fireworks are shot off in daylight (actually that happens in every Central American country). 

In San Juan del Sur, cats get stuck in trees and for once we do not root for the underdog.

In San Juan del Sur, a huge figure of Jesus Christ looks upon the debauchery from a nearby mountain.

Costa Rica Begins

Costa Rica Begins!!! 

 Timoteo Flynn-Valadez, Written July 13th - 25th 

 Awaking to another percussive storm, we rush through thunder and rain to arrive just in time to be cheated on a “direct route” from Bocas to San Jose which gets us across the border to Costa Rica but leaves us stranded with nothing but the help and affections of Julio Caesar AKA “Sugar Papi,” Monica's new found lover and our Guardian Angel. Padre de Azucar conjures a bus for us and a bunch of other hopeless Europeans and ozzies, who had also been left up shit creek without a paddle. After boarding our saving grace of a bus, Rachelle and I drank every time the driver made a driving offense which soon results in us dozing through a Song of Ice and Fire on audiobook as we watch the CR countryside become more and more familiar to Rachelle. We eat dinner with our weary and red eyed bus driver and Monica stops him just in time as he's pulling away without us while Rachelle and I are busy buying beer and plantain chips for her parents at a roadside buffet.

 Finally arriving in San Jose, the three of us take full advantage of the reserved room Rachelle’s parents, Shoshana and Jose, cannot enjoy due to their canceled flight. We fall asleep watching Fresh Prince as a bit of comfort TV, goofing about and I managed a ninja fart attack on Rachelle’s face, a triumph I shall remember even in death. We enjoyed the luxury accommodations of the hotel at Rachelle’s parents expense, we woke up to hot breakfast, some beer by the pool and then off to the Artesian Market of downtown San Jose. Wandering through the thick aisles of heckling souvenir vendors, we escape with our wallets, but just barely.

 Dropping by Zapote to visit Rachelle’s host family, I entertained the children while she caught up with her host mom then rendezvoused with her real padres who had just touched down at the Adventure Inn Hotel. We went out to eat some excellent tico food at a dive bar recommended by our Uber driver, chi-frijo being the highlight of the meal; a simple layered dish of pico, carnitas, avocado and chips burying beans and rice.Afterward sauntering across the street to Castro’s Discoteque where Rachelle won best karaoke, and I made ears bleed with Rachelle and my rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. Boogied down all night after the shitty pop music turned to salsa and merengue, keeping it funky fresh with my white boy moves and practiced the one-two-threes of salsa’s hips, slips and knees.

 Mañana we moved hotels to Don Carlo in downtown San Jose after bidding farewell to Monica who was en route to Mexico City. Wandered the streets with the ‘rents for the day, got lost on scary streets at night while Shoshana spewed excuses in two languages for her lack of the “Cabrera compass”. Some sketchy blocks later we finally stumble upon our destination, El Sotano, the hippest joint this side of the isthmus, so sick, bad and dope it could make any jive turkey jiggle it’s tail feathers. One rad little dungeon where the cool cats hang slapping vinyl and having intimate jam sessions where anyone is free to drop in and play, so long as you ain't no whack sukka’. After grooving to blues beats, across the street I lose $30 at a greasy casino.

 Next day the rents head off to Manuel Antonio and we go crash at Casa Areka, a quaint clean hostel outside of the city with walls covered in vintage celebrities where Michael, a soft spoken sweetheart graciously welcomes us. After unburdening ourselves we are off to the Mercado Central, a labyrinth of vendors and stalls, where we hustle for a full grocery list for under five dollars. Shops with every aspect of life explode out of the tightly packed streets selling everything from squawking birds, live sharks and produce; to power drills, motor bikes, flat screens and stolen bling. Back at Michael’s we make ourselves a fabulous meal of fried garlic papas, grilled onions, seared steak and guacamole, with leftovers to spare for breakfast.

 After eating we half nap while watching more Fresh Prince until it is minutes prior to the highly anticipated dance class lead by the mejor maestro,Felipe, where we refine our step skills and I learn some grapevine moves which make me sweat and smile profusely. Graced by the charming instructor’s company, we grab a beer with Felipe where he and I discuss the rapid evolution of technology, startrek, immortality and his upcoming production which he wrote and stars in as a future salesmen offering select virtual reality packages, the cheapest of which is heaven.

 Then it’s off to a loud packed club, Hoxton’s, an all too familiar scene where people who should be having a good time scan the crowd with somber expressions, looking for cheap thrills, as US pop music pumps up a crowd packed tighter than sardines. We walk back to our homestead on the quiet suburban streets, heads swimming with cocktails and ears buzzing with club beats. Twas’ a good night to be sure.

 -Groceries for under $5 @ Casa Areka-

Puerto Viejitos

Rachelle Towers

Puerto Viejitos

We cruised into Puerto Viejo in an intensely air conditioned tour shuttle coming back from a day of level 3+4 white water rafting down Rio Pacuare. I was convinced my wet hair would be clinking with icicles by the time our hour long ride was over. Yet suddenly I recognized the old and weathered-pastel beach homes; the triangle banners colored yellow green red and black hung between salt licked palms reaching out diagonally towards the shore- the effects of a rising ocean. After asking the matured and clean cut driver if he needed directions to take us to rocking Jay's hostel he replied in a thick indistinguishable accent- "Gal I waz 'ere when tha waz thirteen 'ousez an no runnin' wotah'!" Heading straight and then veering right without a seconds pause... I was really amused by his answer and I found his accent jarring since I wrongly assumed he was from a different area of Costa Rica. So I proceeded with more inquiries, one of my favorite answers was on his favorite place to get food in Puerto Viejo, to which he quipped again without pause, "MAH-OUSE" This was the first and also my personally favorite, local interaction. The driver was such a character, and his almost stubborn grip on his routine and solidarity reminded me of my father, very charming. 

The stay in Puerto Viejo was lazy and laid back, Teo's body was having a hard time adjusting to Costa Rican food and the new bacterias and microbes in Central America so we spent a lot of time lounging in hammocks and listening to the game of thrones books on tape in our wizards tower at the hostel. We didn't surf all day like we had planned but we made fun by learning cheats in Pokemon Go so we wouldn't have to move, watching fresh prince of bel air and playing laser hockey on his iPad(I won all of 6 games) and playing pool (I lost all of those games). It had been about two weeks that Teo was sick now, so we decided antibiotics were a good cure for being landlocked at our hostel room for the rest of our trip. The next day T was up and running again. He ate chocolate and bacon and had more than a couple drinks, we tossed around the football at Playa Negra which was a blast and walked along the coconut littered volcanic ashen coasts with no pain and all the gain! 

Apart from our last couple days, this part of our journey was a lot slower than our expectations willed it to be considering we were in a party town on the beach where we couldn't walk 10 minutes without being offered some kind of drug. But I'm very grateful for how much we were able to make out of our experience, if either one of us were to have traveled with anyone else there's a good chance we would have gotten into a row or been disappointed and gotten bored by how much time we spent indoors. A week ago we were partying in Manuel Antonio on the daily, I had 21 drinks during my birthday on the 7th! and here we were just a few days later reading and discussing The Te of Piglet for hours on end like a couple of angels! It was quite the contrast but Teo and I are pretty well rounded peeps if I do say so myself.