Nuevo Arenal, Costa Rica
Our second day arrived with sunshine, chirping birds, and a light breeze. There was no foreshadowing to let me know I would soon be attacked by a barbed wire fence. Our adventure began quite innocuously. We got up, ate a light breakfast, and decided to hike down the trail to the butterfly garden.
It was recommended that we wear boots, but we couldn’t find any, so we set out in our hiking shoes, t-shirts, and shorts. Two dogs were sitting at our front door when we left the house – a big white puppy (whom we later learned was Campion) and a small black dog (later introduced as Perla).
The dogs kept us company until we reached a blue and white gate. It was necessary to jump over, and it would have been entertaining if we could have seen ourselves attempting to do so – me with a camera case and a video camera slung around my neck, and Bri trying not to land on the dogs, who climbed under the fence just as he was leaping over.
The dogs cheerfully led the way down the picturesque mountainside and we followed behind, taking photos and video of the countryside unfolding beneath us: rolling hills in front of a beautiful lake, with a row of mountains jutting up behind it.
Grass tickled my knees as we carefully made our way through the trees. Then we saw a razor-wire fence crossing the path. Michelle had let us know that whenever we came across a fence, we were to leave it as is. If it was open, it stayed open. If closed, then closed. This was to keep animals (such as cows and horses) where they belonged.
This particular fence was made up of several rows of barbed-wire strung across a few 4×4 posts. So, Brian pulled out a post and opened the fence wide enough for him to walk through, and I quickly followed. How was I to know that he would drop it on me?
“Aaagh!” I screamed, as the rusty metal points scraped across my bare arm, leaving long bloody scratches in their wake.
“I didn’t know it would fall on you!” Brian defended himself immediately.
“Did you look to see if I was past?” I demanded, gripping my arm and gritting my teeth, visions of blood poisoning dancing in my head. (For the record, I’m the least hypochondriac of anyone I know. However, it was in fact a rusty barbed wire fence, it did draw blood in multiple locations, and my mother has had blood poisoning on multiple occasions.)
“What should I do? Should I go back to the house and get you a WetNap?”
(Me, in disbelief.) “A WetNap? Are you serious?”
(Bri, defensively.) “To clean it up!”
This is the turning point in our arguments, where I either A) waste the next 30 minutes attempting to be the force of logic, or B) roll my eyes and move on. I opted for choice B, and decided if I was going to die of blood poisoning, tetnus, etc, at least it would be with a view, and I continued down the trail.
At the foot of the mountain, we came upon a Century 21 building. Yes, you heard me, Century 21. Real estate agents are everywhere! Of course, it was like no other – perched upon a sloping hillside with lush plantlife, a tiny, picturesque bridge, a layered waterfall, and an incredible view of the countryside.
We decided to go in and see if they had area maps. Unfortunately, they were closed. Fortunately, we ran into Juan (known locally as Gilligan) and Elkin. Who are Juan and Elkin? At the time, we had no idea either. They also didn’t know who we were. As a matter of fact, they only pulled into the lot because they thought we were *different* friends of theirs who they were expecting to meet.
Instead, they met us. Being the friendly sort, they invited us out on their boat to tour lake Arenal. Those of you aware that I am a non-swimmer probably realize that jumping on a stranger’s boat in another country is not something I typically do. However, when in Rome, and all that – I said sure, and got inside.
Boy am I glad I did! Aside from the fact that there was a gaping hole where the door should latch, but instead was flapping in the breeze, it was a smooth ride. We went around the lake and stopped by several islands. We even got out of the boat and got to explore the islands! Some had animals – monkeys, cows, deer. Others had stone – quartz, jade, etc. Others had ancient pottery – lake Arenal covers what used to be an ancient civilization, and pieces of dishware, chairs (3-legged stone stools) and other miscellany wash ashore. All in all, it was pretty amazing.
Elkin took us back to his house where we met his wife Valentina and their adopted toddler Esteban. They told us that in some places, there is a problem with abandoned or unwanted children, and although he and his wife initially wanted to have children of their own, they felt that adopting was the better choice. Their house was adorable, perched on a steep incline (so precariously that every time Esteban kicks his ball, it flies off the edge of the cliff to the highway below) and with a magnificent view.
It had your basic concrete sink, many windows (there’s no AC in Costa Rica), an HP desktop computer, several shelves full of 4000-year-old artifacts collected from the sea, and a remote control for the electric gate at the bottom of the hill. If this sounds bizarro, random and incongruous – believe me, it was.
Elkin shared with us some local fruit – papaya and guaba, which looked to me like cotton, but reminded Bri of sugar cane (which he also loves). We finally said our goodbyes and headed over to the butterfly garden. It was closed (we’re guessing because it was Sunday) so we hiked up the steep incline back to the house. 45 panting and sweating minutes later (OK, and about a million photos later – Costa Rica is definitely the prettiest place I can even imagine) we finally burst through the forest and arrive home sweet home.
Oh, and in case you were concerned, don’t worry – no tetnus, no blood poisoning, just a couple scabby welts (doesn’t *that* sound sexy) that are quickly healing.