Central American Madness; Stage III: Going Solo

Editor's Note:  This is Part 3 of a three-part feature about my recent trip to Costa Rica and Nicaragua with two friends.  Here are Part 1 and Part 2 if you missed them.  

Phase III:  Going It Solo 

And so I was a lone, with three days to make my way from San José to Managua, Nicaragua.

And it turns out being alone is great.  Being with friends is great too, for different reasons.  But when I'm alone in Latin America I become immersed in the language and culture in a way I've not experienced in a group setting.  I talk to all sorts of people, sometimes out of necessity but more often just for fun, to practice the language and to see what makes them tick--their lives are so interesting, and so different from ours.  And by the way, it's much easier to talk to random people on the street in countries like that than in the US, at least for me.  Perhaps because I'm a novelty to them as a random American tourist who happens to be fully fluent in Spanish.  Or maybe they're more friendly than Americans.  Or both.  Or other things.  You tell me.  But it's awesome.  And a big part of why I love being there.   

Back to our narrative.    

Fri, 26 Oct (continued):

After Brit left I ventured briefly into downtown San Jose to walk around for a while and see what it was all about.  It was strikingly different to see the inner-city bustle and cold veneer compared to the touristy rural areas we'd been frequenting to this point;  it just had a totally different energy to it.

When I drove out of the city I headed North towards Nicaragua.  And this time, for a change, I enjoyed the drive.  It had its usual allotment of wrong turns and absent road signs--getting from highway 27 to highway 1 was complicated and time-consuming--but with nobody wincing in the seat next to me, I raced over the dirt roads and pot holes with little a care.  And once I got to highway 1 (aka the Panamerican Highway), I felt like I was playing Mario Kart.  I drove late into the evening, passing slow trucks and other grandma-esque drivers at upwards of 120 kph.  (Yes, we're still using the metric system.  I think I'm ready to switch over for good.)  I pulled into Liberia (the Northernmost major town in Costa Rica) around 9pm. 

After strolling through the square and grabbing the usual fare for dinner, I looked at a room in an extremely ugly hotel that was just eight bucks a night.  Luckily I decided to walk down the street first and check for other options.  At Hotel Liberia I got a much nicer room for only four dollars more. 

Sat, 27 Oct:

After much internal deliberation, I decided to forgo Tamarindo (a beach town in Northwest Costa Rica we’d heard great things about, and where Brit had been excited to surf) and head straight for the Nicaraguan border, about 80 kilometers away.  I had a close call after forgetting to gas up in Liberia--I'd been on empty for several kilometers when I found a station in a small town called La Cruz.  The attendant told me that was the only gas station between Liberia and the border.  I also picked up hitchhikers for the second time in my life (and first outside the US)--a few girls needed a ride about five kilometers up the highway to their small home town.      

For the last four kilometers leading up to the border, there was a steady line of semi trucks on the highway who were waiting to cross.  While following a bus at a distance, I managed to bypass all of them by driving in the left lane, pulling off the road or squeezing in between semis for occasional oncoming traffic.   

The car rental office was right on the border, and it was time to bid farewell to the Yaris.  A sad day indeed.  I had a pleasant conversation with Ileana, the girl at the agency, and helped her practice some English phrases that were useful for her job.  It was nice that we hit it off well, because she then went out of her to make phone calls and facilitate paperwork so that I wouldn’t be responsible for some minor damage the Yaris had sustained.  I was also very glad we got the full insurance. 

Ileana drove me the final few hundred meters to the border, and I was on foot from there, really looking like a tourist at this point, wearing my touristy hat and Chacos while carrying all my stuff in the large hiking backpack I'd borrowed from my roommate Dave.  At the border I paid the $13 fee to enter Nicaragua, changed a few dollars into córdobas (Nicaraguan currency), and was on a bus within minutes.  I decided against renting a car in Nicaragua--I was kinda tired of driving by this point (go figure), things are closer in Nicaragua, and I thought it'd be interesting to see how well I could get around in buses and taxis.    

Two short bus rides and 1.5 hours later I was in San Juan del Sur, a beautiful little beach town in SW Nicaragua.  I could have been happy there for at least a week, but sadly my revised itinerary only allowed for one day.  "Hostal Elizabeth" near the bus stop gave me a room for only $8.  The only catch was there were ants in the bed, and no private bathroom.  It was definitely the dumpiest place I stayed on the trip. The beach was just a five-minute walk down the road from the hostel, and since I happened to get into town right before the "golden hour", I moseyed on down to snap a few photos.  It was magnificent, and several assorted fishing boats were positioned some two hundred meters out in the bay.  

After playing frisbee with a couple kids on the beach, I joined a man and his daughter who were practicing volleyball as the rest of their family relaxed nearby.  I ended up conversing with them for quite some time, and was really impressed.  They seemed like an awesome family, and they even invited me to meet them and go to their house the following day (sadly I didn't make it).  

After grabbing dinner at an open-air restaurant nearby that was showing the World Series (everybody was watching it down there--baseball is big in Nicaragua), I played a few games of pool with Sonia, an employee of a local bar that hadn't gotten too busy yet.  She was better than I expected, and we split about five games.   Second dinner--pupusas and plantains--at an El Salvadoreñan place only cost me $2, including the tip!

On the way home I stopped several times to make conversation--at a surf shop, an internet cafe, a group of taxi drivers--and lastly met a girl named Milagros who was sitting out front a tienda with her sister.  We chatted for more than an hour, thoroughly enjoyed it, and made plans to meet up the next day for lunch.   

Back at  Hostal Elizabeth, I entered to the sound of someone pounding on a door with a hammer.  It was 11pm, so I was a little concerned about so much racket at so late an hour.  Turned out the surfer dude two doors down had locked his key in his room, and was knocking out some pieces of the door so he could reach in and get it.  He ended using a big metal pole with a hook on the end to fish the key out.  But by then the lock was trashed and he couldn't open it anyway.  The whole affair was quite entertaining as he discussed the progress in horrible Spanish with a hostel employee.       

Shortly thereafter, I cozied up for a night's rest with the friendly ants and other assorted bed bugs.  

Sun, 28 Oct:

After a morning stroll down to the beach, I got breakfast at a local comedor (diner)--I got the usual, except the gallo pinto in Nicaragua is usually made with  red beans (in place of the black beans used in Costa Rica).  While I was eating, a couple older American guys showed up.  They were having the darndest time telling the waitress what they wanted to eat, so eventually I offered to help.  One of the guys told me he'd been roaming around looking for a place to retire.  San Juan was a prime candidate because it's a beautiful beach town and everything's really cheap.  The other guy recounted that he's been bouncing around Latin American for the past 30+ years, but still hasn't learned much Spanish. 

After breakfast, I decided to try my hand at boogie boarding one more time, so I rented a board at the beach.  It was a beautiful morning, and though the waves were fairly small (the serious surfers drive a short distance to other beaches in the area), I was able to ride a few for a goodly distance. 

The waves crept higher and higher on the beach, and one of the times I went to move my stuff so it wouldn't float away, I bumped into a girl named América who had driven down from Managua with her 7-year-old daughter, Ana Lucía.  After we chatted a bit, she said if I wanted to accompany them to some pools that were up on the hill overlooking the town, afterwards she could give me a ride to the capital.  I wished I could stay in San Juan longer to hang out with Milagros and the family I'd met on the beach the day before, but it was too good of an offer to pass up.  Riding with them would be significantly more efficient and comfortable, and I needed to be at the airport by the following night anyway.  So I quickly packed my things from the hostel, and we drove up to the pools. 

The "pools" turned out to be a resort called "Blue Eyes", where there are various swimming pools along with a hotel and restaurant that have an incredible view of the beach and town below.  We hung out there for a few hours and had lunch.  It was a beautiful place.  In other news, though I put sunscreen on my head and on my arms, I didn't put any on my back or shoulders...and between the beach and the swimming pools I got ridiculously burnt, the worst I can remember.  My whole back and shoulders were a deep red.  A week later I was peeling like a snowstorm, and even now my back is noticeably darker and kind of reddish, with a bunch of new freckles and sun spots.   

América and Ana Lucía live near Managua, but went out of their way to drop me off in Granada, the one other town I hoped to see before leaving the country.  They even helped me find inexpensive lodging (Hostal el Panda), and we ate and drank some native Granadan fare (Vigurones and Cacao) in the park before they left for home.  We enjoyed it much like these people. 

Coincidentally, there was a political rally going on next to the central park in Granada, which mainly consisted of teenagers dancing and singing in various styles to get people excited about one of the parties.  I thought it was pretty hilarious, as about half of the numbers they performed seemed inappropriate or offensive, and definitely wouldn't have convinced me to vote for anyone.  Some of the dances were cool though, particularly the old-fashioned ones done in fancy dresses. 

I took a walk down the party street (Calle la Calzada) in Granada, and even saw some people doing karaoke in Spanish (the first singer I heard was not just comically bad, but painfully bad), before heading back to El Panda and calling it a night.

Mon, 29, Oct:

My last day in Nicaragua. :( 

I thought I'd just walk out and find some place to eat breakfast, but as it turned out, a carriage awaited me outside.  It was Winston, the guide I'd made arrangements with to give me a tour of Lake Nicaragua.  He was a half hour early. 

So Winston drove me in his carriage, on the cobblestone streets of Granada, to a restaurant he picked for breakfast.  I think the owner must be paying him, as the food was ordinary and a bit over-priced.  I went to the pharmacy next door while waiting for the food, and was surprised to find the only pill sizes for ibuprofen were 400, 600, and 800 milligrams (in the US it normally comes in 200 mg, and 800 requires a prescription).  Maybe I should have asked what kind of antibiotics they were frivolously dispensing and how they felt about drug-resistant bacteria while I was at it. 

After breakfast Winston and I continued our carriage ride out to nearby Lake Nicaragua.  América told me it's the eighth largest lake in the world, Winston told me there are 365 islands ("Igual a los dias del año?  Si, igual a los dias del año.").  And several different people informed me that there are fresh water sharks in the lake, and possibly nowhere else in the world.  

Luckily, I didn't fall in.  But I did get a tour of several of the islands from Winston.  The islands are really small, but several of them have have houses on them, mostly vacation homes owned by really rich people.  One had a little fort and some cannons, he said it was used for defense against the Spanish.  We also saw some spider monkeys and cool birds, and the lake has a nice view of the volcano called Mombacho.  And dang, that lake is huge.  Que diacachimba! (That's Nicaraguan slang for really cool or something.)  

Subsequently, I rented a bicycle (just $5 for a half-day) so I could ride around Granada and get a better look.  That was fun, and I also bought a couple souvenirs in the park.  Those were slightly more expensive than I expected, especially after meeting a kid who was practically giving away a hammock in the street the night before. 

América had told me the night before to meet her at her office in Managua so she could give me a ride to the airport.  Time got away from me a bit, so I took a taxi instead of a bus as planned, and the driver was able to get me there in under an hour.  Not only did América drive me to the airport, but she and Ana Lucía took me on a little tour of Managua, and then we went to one of their favorite restaurants for dinner.  In addition to one last great Nicaraguan meal, I also got to try some tasty local drinks such as Cebada and Chicha.  After that they dropped me off at the airport, around 9pm.  I couldn't believe how much they went out of their way to help me, having just met them the day before.  Of course, América did also ask me to take some nacatamales back to the US and ship them overnight to her pregnant friend in Utah who'd been craving them....so she may have just been using me for that. ;)  Just kidding.  I sent the nacatamales the day after I got home, and word has it they were deliciosos.

With some time to kill at the airport, I chatted with the girl at the little souvenir shop and bought a couple small items with leftover cash.  I guess I have a compulsive need to always be talking to people when I'm in Latin America, maybe 'cause it's such a great chance to practice Spanish, and maybe because the people there live in such a different world from our own, and it's fascinating to learn about.  This girl (María), for example, was 25, had 2 kids, had basically dropped out of school, had been cohabitating but was now separated, and worked at the souvenir shop for a paycheck of about $70 every two weeks.  This story is anything but atypical.  She pulled at my heartstrings a little, and I decided to give her the rest of my cordobas (maybe like ten bucks) and triple her salary for the day. 

Tue, 30 Oct:  

My flight left around 1am on Tuesday.  I was basically a zombie while waiting in line and boarding, and even though Spirit's seats don't recline (blast them!), I still slept for almost the entirety of the three flights back to Vegas (again stumbling like a zombie through customs and security in Florida).  Counting Nicaragua (equivalent to the mountain time zone), my two layovers in Ft. Lauderdale and Dallas, and my destination in Vegas, I was on the ground in all four US time zones within about ten hours on my way home.

Brit picked me up from the airport since his dad flew in from Arizona the same morning to help him pack up his things and move.  Brit seemed to be doing alright, though his collar bone was still pretty unstable--he had abandoned the sling a few days prior because he didn't think it was helping.  It only took a few hours for him and his dad to pack up all his stuff.  We exchanged some pictures, stories, and souvenirs, and then Brit was off for Arizona (that's where he's doing his rotations).  Though sad the trip had ended, I was of course more sad to see a good friend (and roommate for a year) move away. 

Currently, Brit's doing well, and we just finished our first month of rotations.  I'm thinking about going back to Central America when I finish PA school next year (I'm also going to Guatemala in February for a rotation)...who wants to come along? :)

Central American Madness; Stage II: The Accident

This is Part 2 of a multi-part feature about my recent trip to Costa Rica and Nicaragua.  You can find Part 1 here if you missed it.

Stage II:  The Accident

Wed, 24 Oct (continued):

a road outside La Fortuna, relatively near the scene

About half a kilometer down the road from Baldi Hot Springs I saw several cars pulled over to the edge of the road and traffic temporarily stopped.  A few men were huddled on the left side of the road, and they started waving me over, though I couldn't yet see what was going on.  As I got closer I saw Brit's dirt bike parked in the grass a short distance beyond where the men were standing.  They directed me to park in the same area, and as I rode past them I saw Brit, sitting in the grass on the side of the road, holding his left shoulder and looking shaken.  His helmet lay on the ground a few feet away.

At first I was slightly in shock, a little incredulous.  I quickly parked the quad by his bike before running over to him; as I took in the scene, the man standing in front of him mentioned he thought Brit's collar bone was broken.  I asked if he'd called an ambulance, and he said he had.  Then as now, I was impressed by the quick response of the passers by.

I was exhausted (stayed up late with Fred the night before) and in a bit of a trance, but as I shook it off my little bit of medical training started kicking in: I noted that Brit was conscious, he appeared to be breathing without difficulty, and I couldn't see any bleeding other than a large scrape on his left knee.  My next thought was to to check his mental status, as I assumed he'd hit his head.  I asked him his name and he said, "I...I can't remember."  Then I asked him where he was, and he had no idea.  So I told him where we were and what had happened.  I asked if he could move his left leg and if it was causing him significant pain; he was able to move it fine, though slowly, and said it didn't hurt much compared to his shoulder and his head. 

The ambulance arrived shortly; the paramedics asked what had happened and put him in a neck brace and on a stretcher.  One of the bystanders was nice enough to call the guy we had rented the ATV's from so he could come pick up the vehicles while I rode in the ambulance with Brit.  We were taken to a small local clinic that sort of doubled as an urgent care...and that's when I realized that there were no hospitals in this town (La Fortuna).  A doctor examined him, agreed that the clavicle was broken, ordered some bandaging for his leg, and asked him questions to check his mental status.  Brit still couldn't say where he was or what had happened, and  that trend continued for some time; each time I reentered the room, he would again ask me, "Ben, what happened?", or "Where are we?"  There was a slow, deliberate rhythm to everything he said.  It was more than a little disconcerting to see Brit acting so differently from his usual self.  

The doctor and I were both concerned about internal bleeding (an intracranial hematoma) as a result of the head trauma, and so we needed to get him to a CT scanner.  But the doc said there were none in town.  And the nearest places that could do a scan (such as ciudad Quezada, an hour's drive to the East) were not adequately equipped to treat further if they found a problem.  So he suggested, and I quickly agreed, that we needed to take him to to a better hospital, in San Jose (the capital of Costa Rica), even though that was three hours away.  He said he knew a good one there, and that he'd call ahead to let them know we were coming.

Fortunately, we had already checked out of our hotel.  So I only needed to settle affairs with the owner of the ATV's and retrieve our rental car before leaving town.  The doctor and I decided the best plan was for me to follow the ambulance in the rental car, so that we'd still have it later if we needed it.  I wasn't sure if there was was anywhere to return it nearby anyway.   

So we took off from La Fortuna, the ambulance leading the way and I behind, on a 3-hours drive to San Jose. 

Now might be a good time to explain that:

A) Driving conditions in Costa Rica are crazy compared the US (if you hadn't figured that out yet),
B) This drive included only single-lane highways, a ton of speed bumps, and even a stretch of unpaved road,
C) I'm not very experienced driving stick shift, I've never actually owned one,
D) It was imperative that I stay right behind the ambulance during the whole drive because if I lost him I'd probably never find him again, and 
E) The roads are full of slow trucks and other annoying vehicles, some of whom are very poor at staying in their own lane.  

I should also point out that cars don't really get out of the way for ambulances in Costa Rica.  The driver only used his siren some of the time, and even then it didn't make much difference (other than his not having to pay tolls).  

With all that in mind, imagine me following this ambulance in my stick-shifted Toyota Yaris, having to keep up at all costs as he passed slow truck after slow truck (not to mention poor Brit riding alone in the ambulance, with a killer headache and a broken collar bone on bumpy roads).  I got cut off several times, especially while passing through cities and town, but always found a way to catch up again, even when that involved a lot of honking, yelling, or waving my arms out the window like a maniac.  We never stopped.  At one point during the drive, as I was trying to pass a blue pickup truck whose driver was acting very drunk, I was forced to veer left and both wheels on the left side of the car momentarily slipped off the road very near to a precipitous embankment.  I steered hard to the right and the wheels somehow popped back up again.  Overall, the drive was ridiculously insane, and I don't think I'm exaggerating.  Still not sure how I got through it (other than adrenaline and divine providence).

But we made it to the San Jose area and around 6pm, just in time for rush hour, and shortly thereafter pulled up to the emergency room of a hospital called CIMA (Center for International Medicine Advanced) (no, that is not a typo).  Their website says it's the best hospital in Costa Rica, and I believe them.  

Brit's condition hadn't changed much when we got to the hospital--he was still repeating questions, and he seemed quite lethargic.  But it was in the ER that he started coming around, and was able to carry on a coherent conversation for the first time since the accident, though slowly.  I had to leave him for a while to fill out paperwork, and by the time I finished they had taken him to get a CT scan of his head and an x-ray of his left clavicle.  He had been vomiting during the ambulance ride--in fact, he said that was the first thing he could recall after the accident--and continued to do so in the ER.  They gave him pain meds and an anti-emetic, which seemed to help.  (By the way all the drugs they use down there have different trade names than here, and some aren't used here at all.  So it was confusing trying to figure out what they were giving him.)  At first they said they were gonna put a couple stitches in his knee, but later opted to clean and bandage it with copious amounts of antibiotic ointment instead.  

the view from the hospital parking lot

Overall he was in the ER for about 1.5 hours, half-asleep for most of it, before a room opened up.  The ER doc spoke English impressively well, and was very helpful.  He said they would keep Brit in the hospital for at least 24 hours per head trauma protocols, and possibly longer depending on how tests came out and his symptoms progressed.  I found it interesting that the ER doctor continued to manage his care after admission, as you wouldn't see that in the United States. 

So Brit got a room, and thankfully the CT came back clean (no signs of intra-cranial of bleeding).  But he continued to have symptoms, such as nausea, vomiting, and a headache, that were suggestive of increased pressure in his skull.  Furthermore, the x-ray of his collar bone showed about a centimeter of displacement, and the ER doc thought he would probably need surgery.  (I was incredulous about this from the start, though I didn't say so.  We'd just been taught in orthopedics class that if the two ends of a clavicle are the same room, it'll heal.) 

Brit rested as I took care of odds and ends such as emailing our roommate BJ to get Brit's insurance information (he had left his card at home) and bringing in some of our luggage.  When I ventured out briefly to grab dinner, I discovered the hospital was located in a surprisingly nice area.  I strongly considered calling Brit's parents, but eventually decided to wait till the next and day and ask him about it again after he became more lucid.  Around 11:30pm we got a surprise visit from the neurologist, who examined Brit and asked a lot of questions about the accident and about Brit's memory loss.  Among other things, he explained two scenarios that happen commonly after head trauma, one of which described Brit's history (of repeatedly asking the same questions) nearly perfectly.  

Thurs, 25 Oct: 

Nurses came in periodically through the night and early morning to check on Brit and take his vital signs.  For some reason his blood pressure was really low in the morning, but it picked up as the day went on.  I went to the International Insurance Office first thing to provide his info and see what we could find out about coverage (they said they'd call and to check back in a few hours) before getting breakfast at the hotel cafeteria, which in a bizarre coincidence was called "Cafe Britt".
 

The orthopedist dropped in mid-morning for his consultation.  He explained that old-school docs probably wouldn't recommend surgery, but some newer ones might.  Brit made it clear he would side with the old-school docs.  And after that he was finally able to eat again!  We hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch the day before since we were busy running around, and Brit hadn't eaten anything since the accident (he was NPO as soon as he got to the hospital).  So by now he was wasting away a little bit.  He appetite was meager at first, but we were both impressed with the quality of the hospital food at CIMA.   

As the day wore on, Brit received additional visits from the ER doc, the neurologist, various nurses, and other hospital staff.  They decided he was well enough for discharge; they also suggested he return home as soon as he was able.  Having already reached this conclusion, we had called Spirit Airlines earlier to change his flight.  And though they again proved antagonistic by charging a ridiculous change fee, by this time we were just glad we could get him home the next day, and from San Jose (rather than Managua as previously scheduled).    

Back at the International Insurance office, I found out Brit's health insurance did provide coverage in Costa Rica, but they said they would reimburse him later rather than paying the hospital directly.  But none of this mattered because his deductible was way too high, so we got to pay for the whole bill out-of-pocket before leaving.  It's not quite like the US where you can show up at an ER without insurance and they'll take care of you without asking a lot of questions.  (I actually think it's perfectly reasonable to expect payment for services rendered, but the contrast with our domestic policies was striking.  Apparently Costa Ricans are not as entitled as Americans.)

We left the hospital in the late afternoon, just hoping to find reasonably priced accommodations somewhat near the airport, so Brit could rest and easily catch his flight the next day. 

What seemed like an easy enough route on the map from San Jose to the nearby city of Alajuela turned into a bit of a nightmare, at least for me.  Brit seemed to be half-asleep during most of it, so I'm not sure what he remembers.  Some of the features of the drive that I did not like include:  Wrong turns; a dearth of road signs; a dirt road with a ridiculous number of pot holes; Brit wincing in pain as I drove over said pot holes, despite only going about 3 kilometers per hour; stop-and-go traffic during rush hour, in the dark, in the rain, up and down steep hills, using a stick shift; stopping for directions at least three times but never finding what we'd been directed to; confusing roads in completely unfamiliar territory; Brit wincing in pain some more. 

Hotel Bordel

Finally around 8pm we pulled into Hotel Bordel, not far from the airport.  It was by far the most expensive place we'd stayed during the trip, but also the nicest.  And it was definitely worth it, due to the convenient location and a free shuttle service to the airport, not to mention free breakfast, cheap laundry service, and air conditioning.  Brit went to sleep right away; I stayed up pondering where I'd go after he left.   

 Fri, 26 Oct: 

I tried to help where I could as Brit struggled to dress and pack with a crappy headache and only one usable arm. Eventually he was ready to go, and he even ate the full complimentary breakfast of gallo pinto, eggs, and toast--by far the most he'd eaten in one sitting since the accident.  Around 10am his driver arrived, and we said our goodbyes.  I was sad to see him go, but also glad he'd soon be with friends and family who could take better care of him in a more comfortable environment.  It was definitely the best thing for him at the time.

As for me, I was now alone, with three days to find my way up to Managua, Nicaragua (and maybe even have some fun along the way).   

The story concludes in Part 3.  

Central American Madness; Stage I: The Trio

I just went on a 10-day trip to Costa Rica and Nicaragua.

It was incredibly fun, I loved being there, and awesome activities abounded.

It was also just plain crazy, did not go as planned, and was an adventure I will never forget.

***

My friend (and roommate for the past year) Brit Hatch had the idea and did just about all the advance planning for the trip; our friend and schoolmate Fred Fombrun joined us for the first half-or-so of the trip.  It was our last break from school before starting clinical rotations, so we wanted to do something fun and memorable.  Though we were in school and taking finals till the day we left, Brit somehow found time to meticulously research our itinerary and make several reservations.  (Thanks again Brit for all the time and effort you put in to prepare for this!)

Below I will describe the events of the trip, day by day, for your reading pleasure. 

But first, a quick note about third-world countries:  If you've never been to one, it may be difficult to properly contextualize the following events.  For that reason, I demand that you immediately plan and execute a similar trip before you continue reading. :)  Just kidding.  But try to use your imagination--it was not at all like being in the US.
 

Stage I:  The Trio 

We began as three. 

Fri, 19 Oct:  Departure day.  (Not to mention our last day ever of class for PA school!!)

Once school got out around noon, we had the rest of the day to shop, pack, and generally check off all those tasks you gotta do before leaving the country for 10 days.  Our red-eye flights were scheduled to leave around 10pm.  

And things were going smoothly until a couple hours before our flights, when Brit informed me that there were no open seats on his and Fred's stand-by flight. 

You see, Brit and Fred had used "buddy passes" to buy stand-by tickets  on US Airways, while I had purchased a flight on Spirit Airlines (perhaps because I have more than a little history with stand-by flights).  And now both of them were in jeopardy of not making it to Costa Rica, or being significantly delayed in doing do.  Their other option was to purchase a last-minute ticket on Spirit, but the price for those had shot up to $500 (one-way), since it was so last-minute.

So with Brit and Fred mulling it over and making calls to all their favorite customer service representatives, we headed to the airport.  Upon arrival, they both tried to buy outrageously-priced tickets for the Spirit flight, but now there was only one of those left.  Fred bought it, and Brit was forced to take his chances standing by on the (full) US Airways flight as originally planned.  When we parted ways in the airport, Fred and I didn't know if or when Brit would make it to Costa Rica.  And we didn't find out until our layover in Ft Lauderdale five hours later, when Brit called us from Charlotte to let us know he had made it on the flight, barely, with the last seat.  Thank goodness. 

(A quick note on Spirit Airlines:  They have decided to antagonize all passengers by making seats that don't recline.  I do not approve of this, especially for red-eye flights, and I will do my best to avoid them in the future.) 

Sat, 20 Oct:

Fred and I arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica around 11:30am; Brit's flight wasn't far behind, and we met up just beyond Customs. 

After skipping past some money-exchanging stations (a good choice in retrospect--turned out their rates were the worst we'd see) and tourist info, we made it to the car rental area, where representatives from several different agencies were crammed into one small room with  little desks.  Kind of a funny setup, but it made it easy to compare options.  After due diligence, we opted for a four-door Toyota Yaris from National, mainly because they said we could drop it off right at the Nicaraguan border, rather than a city that was 80 kilometers away from the border.  (Yes, everything is in metric in Costa Rica.  Get used to it.  We did.)  We'd been told it would be smart to get an SUV for the rough terrain in some parts, but we decided to take our chances with a car since it was cheaper, got better gas milage....and hopefully wouldn't get stuck even if it took a beating along the way.  And that's exactly how it went.  (And in case you were wondering, it was a stick shift, because automatic transmissions practically don't exist in Latin America.)

The guy at the rental office gave us our very first set of bad directions--the first of many to come.  You see, directions in Latin America are just...different.  They don't really have addresses, and more often than not there are no road signs.  On top of that, the landmarks they choose to mention are not always the easiest to find.  It's pretty mind-boggling...but it's all part of the adventure, I suppose. 

While trying to apply our shoddy directions and get to the main highway, we just happened to drive right by the San Jose (Mormon) Temple.  So we stopped and took a picture.  Somebody should tell the guy at the rental office that the Temple would make a pretty good landmark. :)  It was pretty random that we found it, as it didn't even seem to be on a major street. 

Back on the road, we were treated to an extremely-green countryside and some afternoon showers (a daily occurrence as it turned out, since it was rainy season) on our way to a town near Manuel Antonio national park, which is right by the Pacific Ocean in the Southwest part of Costa Rica.  Along the way we stopped at a roadside diner for our first Costa Rican meal--some "casados"--and made our first transactions with the local currency, called "Colones" (which means "Columbuses").  Colones were pretty easy to figure out because one dollar is worth about 500.  But things in Costa Rica were a bit pricier than I expected (based on experience in Guatemala, Mexico, and El Salvador), presumably because Costa Rica is the wealthiest and most developed country in Central America. 

After a quick stop at Jacó Beach--where some friendly natives decided to climb the trees and fetch us coconuts--the remaining portion of our drive to the Manuel Antonio area was done in the rain and dark; but that didn't stop a ton of bikers and pedestrians from strolling along the edges of this single-lane "highway", with little a care for the cars whizzing by.  When we arrived in the town of Quepos (near the park),  we just needed to find the hostel called "Villas Jacquelina", which Brit had read about online.  But we didn't have an address, and  nobody we asked seemed to know where it was.  Those who had heard of it struggled to give clear directions.  But that was understandable in this instance, as the hostel turned out to be about a kilometer outside the town on an incredibly rough dirt road.  A strange location to be sure, but we were extremely happy to have found it.  We got our own room for only $15/person/night, and we were big fans of the establishment, despite the crappy access road.    

Sun, 21 Oct:

The complimentary breakfast at VillasJacquelina consisted of gallo pinto (rice and black beans cooked together) and eggs, with some toast and fruit on the side.  I quickly grew to love that combo of gallo pinto and eggs, and tried to eat it whenever possible the rest of the trip, usually requesting fried plantains on the side.  In fact, I would like to continue eating that for breakfast every day, if I could just get someone to make it for me.  Any takers??  I will pay you.  

After breakfast, we drove the short distance to Manuel Antonio national park, known for its plentiful and exotic wildlife.  We took a walk through the forest, where with the help of the guide we hired we were able to see several sloths (both two-toed and three-toed varieties), monkeys, bats, iguanas, crazy-looking spiders, and some other stuff I'm forgetting.  One of the sloths put on it's own trapeze show on snapping and crackling branches directly above the walkway, as a veritable hoard of geriatric tourists ooed and awed below.  Luckily it didn't fall, though apparently they often do.  But hey, if you're a sloth, how else do you get thrills?  Once through the forest, we swam briefly at a beautiful, secluded beach.  Then Brit found us an alternate route out of the park by climbing over a large rocky embankment.  I was only scared for my life for a few seconds while following him.  

For lunch we enjoyed fish tacos at a restaurant near the main beach of Manuel Antonio.  After a short chat, the guitar player hired for entertainment invited me to play something for the patrons.  I shared a few songs while he added fancy accompaniments on his guitar; some Americans watching football at the bar cheered loudly for a John Denver special, and one of them even gave me a tip afterward. 

We spent the remaining daylight (it got dark each day around 5:30) at the main beach of Manuel Antonio, attempting to boogie on a board.  The scene was remarkable:  as storm clouds swirled above, gentle showers fell and waves rolled in from the ocean, all framed by rocky embankments and a lush, green forest.  Brit said it reminded him of certain parts of Hawaii.  

On the way home we hit up "El Avion", a restaurant that is literally built of and around an old airplane (allegedly from the Iran-Contra affair), with a bar inside the plane itself, for dinner.  The food was good; the view was great. 

That night Brit taught us how to play Pinoy, a card game he plays with his family which is a cross between Scum and Poker.  It became our nightly tradition.  

Mon, 22 Oct:

With more gallo pinto, eggs, and fruit in our bellies, we left Villas Jacquelina and Manuel Antonio behind.  

What was supposed to be roughly a 4.5 hour drive (estimates varied wildly) turned into about seven hours as poor directions, funky roads, fog, rain, and typically a complete lack of road signs repeatedly led to wrong turns and delays.  We each took a turn at driving.  Passing slow trucks on a windy single-lane highway in the rain led to some tense moments, but we survived.  Finally, around dusk, we arrived in La Fortuna (a quaint, touristy town near volcano Arenal), and had a surprisingly easy time finding Hotel Dorothy, where we were lodged for just $32 (total) per night. 

As it was too late for any of the myriad daytime activities in the Fortuna area, we decided to hit up Baldi Hot Springs.  At Baldi, in addition to a hotel and restaurant, they've built a series of swimming pools, hot tubs, and water slides that take advantage of naturally hot water from springs.  It's allegedly the largest hot springs in the world.  True or not, it was an awesome place to hang out.  Fred and I also sampled the buffet, and then we all went on the water slides (one of which was the fastest I'd ever been on, not to mention in total darkness), before lounging on underwater bar stools in the middle of it of a large pool, watching Monday Night Football.   

Tue, 23 Oct:

For breakfast in La Fortuna, we went to "Soda el Rio"--in Costa Rica, "soda" is another term for restaurant, much like bistro in English.  That was pretty confusing at first-we just thought a bunch of places were advertising soda for sale.  I got the usual (pico, eggs, plantains), and so did Fred...but he also got a steak on the side for good measure.  Fred doesn't mess around when it comes to Costa Rican breakfasts.  

And then it was time to go white water rafting!  The company we booked it with shuttled us about 1.5 hours away to the Sarapiquí river, where we spent a couple hours moseying down the river on some grade 3 rapids.  Though we would've preferred a higher grade, it was still awesome.  The other people in our group were there complements of the Ellen DeGeneres Show.  And since some of them were a bit frail, that might explain why the rafting company picked innocuous grade 3 rapids that day.  We stopped a few times along the river for rope swinging, swimming, and cliff jumping.  At the end they served us some potentially-fresh tilapia for lunch.    

When we got back to La Fortuna, Fred and I challenged some natives to a soccer game at a local park.  We played 3 on 3 (Brit watched, Fred and I played on a team with one of the locals) on a small cement court...and boy did we take it to 'em.  Except not really. :)  But we kept it reasonably competetive, and Fred got to cross that off his bucket list (he's a long-time player of soccer).  After the game I asked if they were gonna play any more, and one of the kids basically replied that their lungs couldn't take any more because they smoke too much marijuana. 

As it was Fred's last night, we stopped by a souvenir shop near the town center.  While we were looking around, all the stuff on the shelves started to shake.  I just thought somebody had just turned on a fan or something, but it turned out to be an earthquake (magnitude of 6.5)!   The epicenter was about 100 kilometers to our West.  I'd only experienced one other temblor, but this one was quite a bit bigger.  

Later we strolled around the town to see if there were any dance clubs where Fred could get his groove on.  Unfortunately they only do that on the weekends.  But we all decided Fortuna was a great place to hang out, and I'll definitely go back.  We rounded out the night with another game of Pinoy.  Fred is the reigning champion because he won the last round by playing progressively higher pairs over and over again.  

Wed, 24 Oct:

Fred needed to catch a bus around 4:30am to make sure he could get to the airport (about 3 hours away) on time.  He would also need to catch a connecting bus in the next city.  Since Fred speaks little Spanish, we taught him a few key phrases that he could use, and told him to keep repeating them if he got in trouble.  I would have enjoyed seeing that in action. :)

We all slept through the alarms and snoozed a couple times, until finally Brit noticed it was 4:20am and told Fred he better go.  Fred was up, ready, packed, and out the door about ten minutes later.  

Fred was gone.  He later informed me that he made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, but was sleeping on the bus and woke up in the nick of time before the bus continued on to San Jose.  Good thing, otherwise he'd probably still be in Costa Rica. 

About 9am, Brit and I took a shuttle to a zip line course near volcano Arenal, called "Ecoglide".  The course boasted 13 zip lines, each some hundreds of meters in length, high above a thick forest next to the volcano.  They also had a special swing they called "The Tarzan", where you got to jump off a metal platform way up high and swing back and forth...you know, like Tarzan.  About half of our group chickened out after they saw the first girl jump off, but not us.  It was a rush.  Overall, the zip line course was great, and the views were fantastic.  Highly recommended.

After Brit and I checked out of Hotel Dorothy, we hoped to rent some ATV's and go swimming at the Fortuna waterfall before beginning the five-or-so-hour drive to our next destination (Tamarindo Beach).  We were pleasantly surprised to find out a guy near the square rented out dirt bikes for just $20/hour, and we could take them wherever we wanted.  Brit got one of those, while I opted for a four-wheeler since I had no experience with dirt bikes.  A short distance up the highway we found a dirt road that we followed for about half the hour before tracking back, crossing a river and discovering some cool scenery along the way.   

It was nearly time to return our rentals when we made it back to the main road; on Brit's suggestion we decided to spend our last five minutes zipping up the highway to Baldi Hot Springs (about a kilometer outside town) before returning the rentals.   

"Let's just go up to Baldi..." 

I led the way on my quad, but didn't look behind me for about 30 seconds.  When I didn't see Brit, I assumed he was just going slow and would shortly catch up.  I looked back a few more times as I worked my way up to Baldi, but never saw him.  I never really worried because I knew Brit was a fairly experienced rider of motorcyles and dirt bikes, but it seemed a little odd.

I got to Baldi, flipped around, and after a few seconds headed back to find out what Brit was up to.  As I rode I felt a mild sense of foreboding; enough time had passed that it was a bit strange for me not to have seen him by now.  

The story continues in part 2.  

All Things Ben

lying dead near the Grassy Knoll

Or at least several.

So I live in Las Vegas now.  Technically it's Henderson, but you know how that goes.  I started PA (Physician Assistant) school just over two weeks ago.  So far I like it--good classmates, good teachers for the most part, so you know, good times.  If you want more information, here are some questions I could imagine someone asking me if I were to, you know, speak with that person.  I also provide the answers to said questions. 

What is a PA?
Perhaps Wikipedia said it best:  "A Physician Assistant is a healthcare provider licensed and trained to practice medicine with limited supervision of a physician."    Chew on that.  Literally. 

Where do you live?
In a house.  I rent a bedroom in a three-bedroom mini-house about eight miles SW of the school.  The commute takes about 15 minutes.  The owner is finishing up his graduate degree in Marriage and Family Therapy.  The other roommate is a pilot and gone every other week for work...or so he says.

Do you have any pets?
No. 

Does your landlord have Netflix streaming?
Yes.  This is convenient because I started watching LOST in late May, and I now have eight episodes left in the final season.  Recently I've watched one episode per day while eating dinner.  I may even tell you what I think about the series sometime in the future.  Recommendations for other tv shows to watch when I'm done will not be rejected outright.  

So you spend most of your time watching tv?
Pretty much.  Actually I go to school for about eight hours a day.  We have about four hours of class most days, and then there's a bunch of studying to do.  I treat it about like a full-time job so far, but I'm pretty sure some of my classmates study substantially more than I do.   

cookies

So what are they teaching you over at that silly school of yours?  And what's it called again?  UNLV?
Actually it's called Touro University-Nevada.  Not surprisingly, no one has ever heard of it unless they're into the whole "health professional school" scene.  So far this semester we're taking Anatomy, Physiology, Biochemistry, Radiology, and a couple of fluff classes (that are actually important, just don't require studying like the others).  A few other classes start later in the semester.  It seems like this first semester is basically the first year of med school, whittled and compressed into 3.5 months.  Which makes sense.   

How long is the program?
28 months:  16 didactic (i.e. classroom), and 12 on clinical rotations.   

So wait, I'm confused, whatever happened to podiatry school? 
I took a leave of absence in December 2009, partway through my fourth year, and eventually decided to attend PA school.  

Weren't you almost done?  Why didn't you just finish?  
I was pretty close to graduating, but overall it's a seven-year process if you include a typical residency.  So I was about half-way through the full process of becoming an independently practicing podiatrist.  If I was gonna jump ship and switch careers, that was actually a pretty good time to do it...at least compared to later.  

Is it really that simple?
No.  

What's one thing that attracted you to becoming a PA?
PA's can work in just about any specialty, and even switch midstream.  Docs can't do that.  

Do you currently own a guitar?
Technically, yes, but it's in Missouri (and pretty crappy).  Luckily I have a much nicer one with me that I don't own, compliments of a generous friend.

Do you consider blogger user-friendly?
No, it's ridiculous, especially arranging photos. 

What have you been doing since December 2009?

Elena and Abigail, probably May 2010

First I moved to Missouri and honed my skills at being as unproductive as possible, for about three months.  Then I moved to Dallas (April 2010) (taking a circuitous route through Colorado, Utah, Idaho, and Montana to visit friends) just in time for the birth of my cute twin nieces Elena and Abigail.  Actually I got there the day after they were born.  Shortly thereafter I spent two weeks digging ditches in "Texas clay" (the dirt in Texas is like clay) to help Mark and Sarah (my brother and SIL who were living in Dallas at the time, and the parents of the aforementioned twin baby girls) install sprinklers in their front yard.  About a month after that I performed surgery on my own big toe.  Another month or so later (July 2010) I finalized my decision to apply to PA school, and started the process.  Six months after that (early Feb 2011), I got accepted to Touro.  In the meantime I traveled to Phoenix for about six weeks (Sep-Oct) to finalize my affairs at Podiatry school once and for all.  In November (2010) I started working as a tutor (for all subjects...I'm only partially kidding) and music teacher.  In December I started substitute teaching as well, which I did until June 1st of this year.  In May I went to Utah for a family reunion and started watching LOST.  In June I left Dallas after a bit more than a year of living there, spent two weeks in Phoenix (on the way), and came to Las Vegas. 

Do you really think I got all the way to the end of this post?
This isn't the end.  

Have you seen any good movies lately?
No. 

Have you seen any movies lately, period?
No. Did I mention I've watched 112 episodes of LOST in the past two months?

What about Harry Potty and Deathly Hallows part five???!?
Plenty of time for that later...that's my usual approach to movie theaters...don't go. 

Did you really see a car burn up in your parking lot last month?
Yes.  

I know this is changing the subject, but doesn't the title "Physician Assistant" make you sound menial? People probably get you confused with Medical Assistants, right?
Yes, it's misleading.  From what I've heard, some early PA's wanted to call it "Physician Associate", which is a better title, but they had to grovel before influential organizations to gain acceptance.  Now it would be expensive and impractical to change the name. 

Don't you feel like this post is bit lengthy?  
Yeah, so what.  Actually, it's probably shorter in total word count than several others I've written.  

Are you schizophrenic?  Why are you conversing with yourself?
I heard in lecture yesterday that 1/100 people become schizophrenic at some point.  Which is probably not true.  But if them, why not me? 

Me at the Alamo in June.  Remember it. 

What do you now consider your favorite band?
That's easy, The Beatles.  But Led Zeppelin is extremely awesome, in case you weren't aware.  Here's proof. 

Have you made any friends in Nevada?
About five.  Actually, I have some pretty cool classmates who've been fun to "hang out" with (mostly meaning studying and attending lectures), and the people in my singles ward have been friendly and welcoming, though I haven't been around them that much yet.  Plus a friend from college lives down here, and she invited me over for bbq pulled pork last Sunday.  Afterwards we jammed on the ukulele.

You play the ukulele?
Yes, of course I play the ukulele.  And by that I mean I've learned about six chords on two separate occasions in the past month.

Have you done any dating recently?
Yes.

Care to elaborate?
No. 

What else have you accomplished in the past few months?
Learned some Beatles songs on the guitar.  Also started recording some music in Dallas before moving.  I studied Italian for a month or so and became very mildly conversant.  Ate a lot of cookies in June.  In addition, I slept on a random guy's couch in Albuquerque. 

What's your BMI (Body Mass Index)?
26.2

Does that make you part of the growing obesity epidemic?
No, I'm just in the "overweight" range, so take it easy.