Todo Que Quieres Saber Sobre Manuel Antonio

This new and improved version of myself fresh from three days in Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica comes equipped with more advice (warranted or otherwise) than Drs. Phil and Oz combined. Let me preface this entry by saying when I signed up for this "adventure week" to kick off my time volunteering, I had no idea what to expect. As mentioned in a previous blog, the woman sent to pick me up from the airport handed me a folder with the information about my host family and upcoming tourism week upon my arrival at 10pm- prior to that moment, I knew nothing.

The itinerary for this week leaves as much to the imagination as an abstract modern art painting. The first item on the list, Manuel Antonio Beach Adventure, simply stated a hotel room was reserved for me for two nights and I needed to be ready to go at 7:10 am. Nothing more. Hardly anything was written, it turns out, as hardly anything was planned. Thankfully, one other girl from my volunteer program signed up for the adventure week otherwise I would have just spent three days on a touristy beach surrounded by creepy surfers alone.

Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the past three days was that no meals were included. This leads two young ladies in their twenties to get creative, venturing to world's end to find cheap eats. Here comes my first piece of advice for anyone heading to Manuel Antonio: a list of where and where not to eat.

Restaurante Hotel Manuel Antonio:
As an addition to our hotel, we naturally tried this establishment first. I ordered the asparagus soup which did nothing for me but bring on an onslaught of symptoms associated with my lactose intolerance. My friend ordered a sandwich and got her money's worth. After this mediocre experience, we decided it would be an okay stop for breakfast the next morning and ordered the eggs and tomatoes, a typical breakfast here. WARNING! Do not order this unless you want to feel like you were just conned out of 5$ for a portion the size of your fist that resembles something that had already been eaten. After that experience, I'm not sure what drove us back there for lunch, but some mysterious restaurant gods brought us back there and I ordered the ensalada verde or green saad which, thankfully, included a hearty portion of greens and avocado. We also both ordered a smoothie of blended fresh fruit and ice. To sum up, if you hit up this restaurant, only do so for lunch or dinner and skip breakfast there unless you like to waste money.

Restaurante Nuevo Amanecer:
The fact that this centrally-located establishment does not serve alcohol likely contributes to its lower lunch and dinner prices. However, if you don't mind not getting tipsy with your meal, it is not a bad spot. Being so close to the ocean, I thought it would be a slap in the face to Costa Rica if I didn't order fish at least once, so I ordered pescado a la plancha (grilled fish) with veggies and rice, though other side options included fries and salad. I received a decent portion for the equivalent of $8. My dining companions complained about the waiter but I would have been rude to them too- they continuously complained that he didn't speak English and they ordered the cheeseburger. Come on. Another perk to eating there was their free Internet.

Italia & Co.:
Don't miss this place. The waitress treated us with exceptional kindness while serving us generous portions at dinner. It's not only a great choice for lunch and dinner; sweet tooth cravings are easily cured by their selection of fresh gelato and sorbets. Never have my taste buds felt so spoiled by a tasty treat and my digestive system breathed such a huge sigh of relief that it didn't have to deal with an onslaught of lactose. Their fresh fruit sorbets lack an overwhelming amount of sugar, making them the perfect amount of sweetness and truly to die for. Well maybe not, dying for sorbet seems a bit on the extreme side. We returned for dinner upon spotting their reasonable prices for salad offerings and ordered the salad with corn, mushrooms, carrots, peppers and tomatoes. Only minutes later she brought us a bread basket accompanied by oil and vinegar as well as a huge bowl of salad, which we assumed was a combination of both of our salads. As we went to pay for both, however, she apologized profusely saying she thought we wanted to split it and only brought us one. This was welcome information as it was a truly filling portion for two people.

Backpacker's Paradise Costa Linda:
Tucked away inconspicuously off the main route, this is the only restaurant offering mind-blowing prices for breakfast. Mind-blowing, jaw-dropping, insert shock-depicting adjective here. Literally, never go anywhere else for breakfast. Their other prices are just so-so, but for only 4$ they serve bottomless coffee and tea, a pancake, fresh banana, pineapple and watermelon, beans and rice, bread and eggs. We got the eggs minus everything else and paid more the morning before.

Other information to know about Manuel Antonio:
1) They are closed on MONDAYS! Don't try to go on a Monday or you will be sorely disappointed.
2) When walking through the national park, walk slowly and look up at the trees. That is where the sloths, monkeys, etc. are hiding.
3) Bring your swimsuit into the park- there are beaches that you can easily walk to.
4) Prepare for rain! It is very likely you may not get a good beach day.

Beach Blues

Now that a fresh mango, papaya and pineapple are commingling at a fruit-themed mixer in my stomach, I feel as though my initiation into the Costa Rican lifestyle is complete. The Costa Rican locals differ so much from one to the next that I find them more challenging than a 4x4 Rubik's cube to figure out. Understandably, they take more kindly to tourists attempting to speak their native Spanish with them. Today I met an exception to this, however, when a man in a convenience store persisted on speaking English with me despite my protesting like a four-year-old mid-tantrum.

Another observation- Americans here stick out not like sore thumbs, but like throbbing thumbs that have just been obliterated by those old-school anvils from Looney Tunes cartoons. That, my friend, is not a thumb you want to see. Generally, the dead giveaway is their footwear or overall dress code accompanying their pasty complexions and light hair. Foreign travel changes ones thoughts about their fellow countrymen immensely. Whereas in the United States the thought of a stereotypically rude New Yorker makes me cringe, seeing one here could provoke me to run over to him with open arms.

While staying in this tourist trap of a town, I have developed an enviable skill set. First, food is so overpriced to take advantage of tourists lacking common sense. Instead of paying more for a meal than I would for a dinner at a 5 star-rated Yelp restaurant, non-matinee movie and top-shelf drinks back home, I forced my stomach to shrink from sheer starvation, concentration camp style. I spent the majority of the day in a hunger-induced state of delirium, and only after half a salad filled me up did I realize the size of my new mini stomach. My new Canadian friend and I discovered an all-you-can-eat breakfast place for only around $4 and have been dreaming about it all day and night.

The beach no longer appeals to me after two days. My hotel room is covered with sand to the point where it is in places I don't know how it could squeeze into. I'm ready for the city tomorrow, but not the 4 hour drive to get back....

Who Wrote THAT Country Song?

The lyrics describing my life at this moment would go something like this:

Oooooh I'm just sittin here on the floor,
In a tiny square right by the door,
It's the only place, ain't gonna lie,
Where this hotel has any WiFi

Now, normally I would add a couple of verses in poor grammar about how I ate grilled fish with two Canadians and two men from Milwaukee and then had a stray dog follow us back to the hotel, but it seems I left my guitar back in Colorado (a line which in itself could be a lyric). Yet the guitar being gone leaves me no choice but to hand it off to some other country singer who wishes to polish it off.

Quirky charms about Costa Rica pop up like an abundance of Jacks-in-the-Box (or Jack-in-the-Boxes?). One, okay this isn't charming simply bizarre and hard to remember, they never flush any toilet paper down the toilet. Ever. It always goes in the trash can. Also, the amount of stray dogs wandering about and trying to squeeze through your thigh trying to block them from entering your hotel room gives the illusion that there are more lonely stray animals than people in this city.

In the states, you may look up at the ceiling before bed. Some of you might be looking at a Carmen Elektra poster, some may be cowering beneath a spider and yet, lucky me, when I look up I see a bright green gecko that could either be the one saving me money on my car insurance or the mascot for Sobe beverages. Whichever he is, I am sad to say that he is most welcome as my only friend in my lonely two bed hotel room.

Thrown Into The Fire

My current location is Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica. Already overcome by exhaustion, I am sprawled out in my hotel bed watching Titanic in Spanish. A delayed flight and a sprint to make my connection followed by a hectic evening and a 7AM departure to the national park where I find myself now are not conducive to feeling well-rested.

The flight delay in Denver was caused by something I had never even heard of- weight imbalance due to poorly arranged baggage. I knew when I heard that that I would be on a mad dash to catch my connecting flight in Houston to San Jose. I barely had time to order a veggie sub at the airport Subway and bond with the flight attendant ahead of me in line over how neither of us ordered cheese. How emotional.

By the time I landed, exhaustion washed over me like a tidal wave and I nearly forgot to switch on Spanish mode in my mind. It's a good thing I have that language setting available, however, as not many people here speak English, much to my surprise. If you say you do not speak Spanish, they seem to think you will magically understand if they simply speak to you louder.

Once I passed through customs, I was told to look for someone holding a huge yellow flag that I wouldn't be able to miss. Well, somehow I was able to, and it took me a good long time to find my name among the pieces of paper being held up by those hoping to pick them up. I got into the car of my program representative and was off to I had no idea where. The driver handed me a folder with information on my first week and the family I would be staying with as she swerved to avoid a head-on collision and ignored the first of many stop signs.

My family was shocked when I told them I speak Spanish and informed me that hardly any of their host volunteers do. Then I was told to be up by 6:30 and would be off to the Manuel Antonio National Park at 7:10.

More later, just wanted to clam your suspense and end your nail biting. Plus, now Legally Blonde is on in Spanish and I really have to pay attention....

Bionic Matt Damon

The bass of an indiscernible hip hop song thumps in the background as children scamper and wearly-looking adults trudge along in the streets of an overpopulated Los Angeles. That looked about right to me after having spent substantial time in the city of Angeles. The big shock came to me as the year "2154" scrolled across the movie screen. I was under the impression things were already a bit desperate/Apocalyptic there already. A bit later after informing the audience of the setting and time period they made sure to include some robots for good measure.

I understand the draw of a few million dollars, but I still can't help feeling slighted by actors generally opting for quality films when they make the financially-motivated decision to appear in cinematic *ahem* "gems" *ahem* (the ahems indicate sarcasm) like Elysium. The trailer indicated a generic, futuristic Sci-Fi movie offering a bleak outlook of the future of oh-so-doomed humanity with some potentially promising action scenes, aesthetically pleasing cinematography and A-list ish actors (though I can't claim familiarity with the celebrity rating system. I think Jodi Foster and Matt Damon are A list or at least B+ list). 

Alright, quick plot summary: Earth is overpopulated, disease-ridden and unsanitary, so the elite members of the human race create a means of preserving their uppity way of life on a weird, floating wheel-shaped space station called Elysium. Everyone and their drug dealer wants a ticket up there, naturally; one of the major draws being that any ailment suffered by Elysium citizens is cured instantly. It is an attempt at a commentary on society with the rich being selfless, soulless jerks who seldom look in the direction of the poverty and ill-stricken. The first scene is a flashback to young Max (Matt Damon) speaking poor Spanish with a random nun about how one day he wants to get to Elysium with his childhood girlfriend. As adults, childhood-girlfriend chick is a nurse with a dying child. Since Max suffers from radiation poisoning at work and is trying to get to Elysium himself, his lady love uses her sexy Spanish accent and and the fact that he is hot for her to convince him to take them as well. The girl pathetically fails to pull off the cute thing by telling some horrible story to Max in a desperate attempt to invoke some mercy. She is a horrible child actress. Man, I am already sick of typing what I hoped would be a basic summary and there is still an insane amount of plot lines to touch on. 

To get a ticket to Elysium, Max offers to do a favor for a Los Angeles gangster who is basically impossible to understand. To do so, he undergoes an unnecessarily graphic surgery transforming him into a partially-bionic human USB stick. His task is to download the technical code capable of overthrowing Elysium from the brain of some CEO guy. Confused yet? A few poorly coordinated and unnecessary action scenes later, Max gets the information accompanied by a predictable warning from CEO guy that he would regret it. DUN DUN DUN. Being a citizen of Elysium, the death of pretentious CEO guy is not taken lightly by Jodi Foster, the heartless ruler of the utopia. Thus, she sends out her minions, two unwashed assassins flying around in a hover craft. The more evil of the two has metal implanted in his face for no reason and speaks in this accent sounding like a hybrid between South African, cockney English, and maybe a hint of Australian. The tone of his voice resonates far too many decibels higher than would ever allow it to be taken seriously, thus instantly making him a poor casting choice.

Hm, you've got something on your face, buddy...

Here's where I leave you sitting on the edge of your seats with bated breath: do the deserving impoverished overthrow the cold-hearted elites and earn a spot on Elysium? Hm, so hard to predict...

Hippie Towns

Just like competitive brothers arguing about who has the best athletic skills and the girlfriend more closely resembling Miranda Kerr, hippie towns similarly try to one-up each other. Growing up in Boulder, Colorado, I constantly felt my resident city took the cake as far as havens for free lovin' hippies dancing in their hemp skirts with flowers in their hair. Then I drove through Ward for the first time and realized my error when I stopped in the grocery/knitting store. 

Whole Foods and other markets whose shelves house the latest hard-to-pronounce health fad sprout up in Boulder like Raid-resistant weeds. Seaweed and tofu replace mashed potatoes and pork as main staples in meals, causing children to consider this the norm of all families. When a health magazine publishes an article touting the benefits of kombucha, Boulder eagerly snatches up the product. Yet little did I know, Vashon Island in Washington State overshadowed Boulder’s lifestyle with a vegan leather shroud imported from Nepal.

As I enjoy personifying places in addition to inanimate objects, I am going to take that direction with this post. I imagine some sort of “hippie town debate” where Vashon Island, Boulder and Nederland go up against each other to determine who is truly the most hippie-friendly, gluten-free, vegan, Earth loving, animal loving town and who best sweeps their pretentious attitude under the rug. Boulder, oozing confidence, steps up to the podium and announces that its markets stock seven different brands of locally-sourced Kombucha, causing Vashon to snicker in its seat and retort that it has Kombucha on TAP at its local coffee shop where bluegrass musicians congregate on the front porch for daily jam sessions. Nederland, silent until this point, stands up and, bearing a smug expression, reminds the audience of its yearly Frozen Dead Guy festival. Boulder, feeling slighted and defensive after losing the Kombucha argument, quickly retorts that it is home to Pearl Street, a haven for an eclectic collection of street performers like contortionists and dijerido players.  Then chaos insues- a messy squabble breaks out amongst the towns and cities, indiscernible shouts of who has the most vegan restaurants per capita and who does the most to educate its citizens and visitors about seal clubbing and the uptick in glacial melt echo throughout the hall. The mediator is forced to intervene in a futile attempt to calm the riled up participants. The judges deem them all immature and unfit to participate in the rest of the competition. Vashon, Boulder, and Nederland sulk off in opposing directions, each muttering to themselves as they exit.