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.
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