Travelog from the Past: Part I

Mary Laure asked to hear about Costa Rica and I thought why not? Rummaging in a drawer resulted in the small red book I used as a journal. What follows is a trip (funded by the Burrito Revolution: see below) with some 18 8th graders, I was one of 5 adult chaperons. 

How could I leave these two?  my beloved Bandit on left 

and the little Agouti girl is Biscuit, an adopted stray.

5/30/04

Santa Cruz, California

Slept for maybe an hour last night between trying to make the "house" semi-presentable and getting rabbit care in order, the time just slipped away. It was a relief when out 4:45 a.m. pick arrived; what was undone would  simply remain so. It seems almost mandatory to start a journey already in a strange fatigued state that one might wake-up in a foreign land. 

I have a terrible fear of flying. I have to convince myself this is a good day to die and so if I do it is alright. On the plane one of the stewardesses complains to the teacher, Mr. S., about the rudeness of the students. It is true and they are being kids; sometimes sweet and thoughtful, philosophical even, and a bit rude.

The pilot announces the different countries as we fly over them; Guatemala, Nicaragua, El Salvador. Places hitherto only in the news and adopted into the hearts of the left. 

San Jose, Costa Rica-

Humidity is the first sign of the tropics. It envelops our skins and fills bodies from the inside. Our raggle taggle group manages to get through customs. Bananas and fruit relinquished and forms filled out in pen. It has to be pen or it will be rejected. Our guides, Zack and Mel find us, it can't have been hard and we are shuffled onto our tour bus. Suddenly we are turistas. Looking out the window as we drive through the night to the hotel we could still be in the states, San Diego, LA, Phoenix, San Antonio, except for the occasional guard toting a large sawed off shotgun on a strap. The boys are very excited by this armament.

Our hotel is La Rosa American and is a sweet little place with a pool in a garden setting owned and operated by Canadians. As we walk to dinner the kids are noisy and boisterous. The girls are nearly naked, showing underwear and bras as much as allowed by the new decency standards. They are whistled at repeatedly by groups of men on the other side of the road. The restaurant is a large open air affair whose name translates to "Corn Delicacies" and here starts our consumption of tropical fruit juices; Cas, Guananna, Guava....The desert is memorable, a coconut flan. (Indeed it is one of first things I think of when I recall this trip, now 5 years later). There is a food fight (a skirmish really). The kids are reprimanded by Zack. "There are so many people without enough to eat, that this really upsets me." The topic of the Ugly American is broached and reoccurs throughout the evening. 

Back at the hotel both Annette (another chaperon/mom and my roommate)  and I feel homesick for our animals and relations. However I sleep like a rock.