So this is even more of the story of our trip to Costa Rica. Here are Parts One, Two, Three, and Four. This is Part Five. And we're only starting the fourth day of the trip!
We wake up Saturday morning and go to a farmer's market in the park in Montezuma and buy things like cherry tomatos, pineapple, cheese, and lettuce. Jason and I head back to the house and hit the pool, while Kristi and Chris head to Cobano and the MegaSuper (their "big box" grocery store). They come home bearing rum, papaya, mango, bananas, and avocados, and we have a nice lunch of sandwiches and fruit rummy smoothies.
That evening we get dolled up and go to Chico's Bar in Montezuma, hoping mainly to have a good time, but also to maybe see Joaquin and Casey again. By now we've figured out that Montezuma consists of about two small blocks of mostly restaurants, and Chico's is the only disco in town. We see fire dancers in the street; the boy who made our necklaces is one of them. We go out and dance the night away. We decide to roam the streets in search of our famous friends and step out to policemen everywhere, carrying huge guns and blocking off the street. We ask if we can get out to go home. They politely escort us out. I guess we were all in agreement that they didn't need a bunch of gringos gumming up the works of whatever the hell they were doing. I have had too many margaritas and I pass out when we get home.
Sunday morning Jason goes for a walk and unwittingly tries to thumb a right from Casey Affleck. Apparently Casey Affleck doesn't pick up hitchhikers.
We decide to visit Rainsong, a wildlife sanctuary in Cabuya. We were told it was a five minute drive from Montezuma. We set out, Kristi and I bouncing around in the back of the truck, and drive. And drive. And drive. After about 20 minutes of driving, we stop for directions. Yes, we're going the right way. Kristi has figured out that the loud banging of the rear hatch isn't so bad if we prop our feet against it. We keep going for about 5 more minutes 'til we find it. We go in and play with baby squirrels, a friendly ant eater, a sleepy kinkajou, a lonely howler monkey named Mona Lisa, and lots of other animals.
We leave and decide to eat lunch in Cabuya, a tiny town with one restaurant. Jason and I order mahi mahi, and Kristi and Chris order sushi. They have one waitress serving the whole place, and one large table keeps ordering beers, and the waitress has to go across the street (to someone's house? a market?) to get the beers every time they order them. At one point she goes to get them four more beers, and as soon as she gets back they say, "Oh, wait, we need one more!" and she goes across again to get one more beer. This is the kind of job that I would have no-call no-showed when I was her age (maybe 18). It takes FOREVER for the sushi to come. It comes, and then we leave.
Back to the house. Swimming and naps. Kristi has a nasty rash on her arms, red and bumpy and hot and itchy. She worries that it's a flesh-eating bacteria. She takes two Claritin and drinks beer until she sings a song about her butt and goes to bed.
The next day is the worst, hardest, hottest, scariest of the whole trip for me. What happens? Tune in Monday.