Day 5

Today was a long day of travel.  We went from La Fortuna to Montezuma.  Overall it was a twelve hour stretch of traveling by bus, boat, and a little walking at the end.  The early bus rides were fairly uneventful.  Most of the countryside was obscured by clouds and fog.  The boat ride was fairly scenic as the bay we were in was surrounded on all sides by mountains, and the sun was setting as we crossed to the far peninsula.  By the time the boat arrived back on land, it was dark.  Our bus quickly departed and began winding through long country roads. The bus was completely dark for most  of the ride, and we admired the landscape by moonlight.  We passed through jungle, pastures, and small, quiet villages.  Fireflies winked in the distance as we passed sleepy cattle and humming forests.  The bus unfortunately (or fortunately) broke down about 100 meters from town.  We walked to our hotel, grabbed a quick bite to eat, and retired.

Arenal finally made an appearance before our departure to say goodbye. 

A passing boat at sunset.

I feel like its appropriate at this point to give my impressions/thoughts/ramblings on Costa Rica as of yet.  Feel free to skip. Several months ago I read Heart of Darkness, and although these are obviously very different places, and even different continents, the imagery still remained in the back of my mind.  Conrad’s description of a journey up the Congo as some kind of anxious nightmare; an oppressive, unsettling dream intruding on you sleep during a hot, still summers night when you’re tangled up in your own bed sheets.  My experience in this jungle at least, has been completely the opposite.  It definitely seems like a dream, but more similar to something imagined while taking a nap in your hammock on a breezy summer day.  Everything seems indistinct and in some ways unreal.  I feel that when I look back on this trip it will be a pleasant, hazy blur, not because what we’re doing isn’t memorable, but because the atmosphere of this place makes things less defined.  I understand why magic realism is so prevalent in Latin American literature.  Here almost anything seems possible.  Then again, all these philosophical meanderings be all some sort of heat induced delirium.

-Juan