Blog Like An Egyptian -- The Costa Rica Diaries, Volume 4

“I’ve met some people along the way
Some of them split some of them stay
Some of them walk some walk on by
I’ve got a few friends I’ll love ‘til I die
From all these people I try to learn
Some of them shine some of them burn
Some of them rise some of them fall
For good or bad I’ve known them all
We live our life in our own way …”
~~ The Bouncing Souls, ‘True Believers’



Not everything Wild comes from the Jungle.

We sat enjoying our final breakfast together on Sunday morning. There were only 11 of us left; most of the group had gone home the day before. A lucky 10 people were chosen to accompany me up to the lovely mountain retreat called Posada Quepoa, in the tiny won of Londres. I would be spending the rest of the week alone there, so I savored the company while I had it.

As we finished our meal, we realized we still had an hour left before the bus came to pick us up. Several people went to chill in their cabins (yes, we had our own cabins) while others went to explore Londres.

I didn’t really give a damn what I did. I had a week to myself in this mountain hideaway, which meant I had plenty of time to explore. I was considering my options when Carney said a very strange thing:

“Who wants to go see the crazy lady?” he asked.

I was, naturally, his first volunteer. Two girls from our group opted to come along as well.

Carney claimed he’d run into an American woman on the streets of Londres the day before, as we walked from our campsite on the riverbank to the Posada Quepoa. She offered him maps of the entire area, and in the Jungle, a map is worth more than a Ferrari, if only because a map is more practical. So the woman was more wildly enthusiastic than crazy, but the moniker stuck.

We made a short but hot walk through town. The villagers stared with bemusement at the dirty gringos tramping wide-eyed and sweaty down the street. Carney swore he knew the way – pura vida – and we followed him along a forlorn gravel driveway, to a pleasant house hidden in a grove of trees. The house seemed empty as we approached it. For perhaps the second time on the entire trip, Carney faltered.

“Uh, hello?” he called.

From within the house came a frantic rustle.

“OH! HELLO!”

I caught a glimpse of blue dress before the door to the house exploded off its hinges in a massive concussion of pounding feet, fur, drool and barking.

Holy shit this woman is a maniac! I thought to myself. No time to panic. Sacrifice Carney and save the women.

But I have a sharp mind, and before I did anything Foolish, I realized there was more to the scene. The woman was accompanied by two overly-enthusiastic dogs: one Rottweiler, one Hell Beast. It was the animals that were manically insane, jumping on us, jumping on their owner, doing back flips, spinning plates to Crazy Circus Music …

The owner was only marginally less energetic. We managed to introduce ourselves, but before any of us could say another word she was running around the side of her house.

“This way!” she sang out.

We had to run to keep up with her. She gestured frantically to her right.

“This is where more beds will go!” she yelled in a fit of ecstasy.

Confused? So was I. I barely had a moment to glimpse a large wooden building, similar to a small barn, hollow on the inside. Then we were running again. I tried to make eye contact with the others, but they were too focused on keeping up with her. She bounded up a short slope, where an enormous tub of water was poised precariously on a wooden post, with cords dangling all around it.

“This is for the showers!” she said, beaming with pride.

I tried to get Carney’s attention, but one of the dogs jumped on me, nearly knocking me back down the slope. I heaved it off and grabbed Carney’s shoulder.

“This is Madness,” I hissed. “What the hell is going on here man?”

“She’s turning this into a hostel,” he explained, then ran after our host who had already moved on.

Carney struggled to get her attention.

“I’m sorry!” he shouted. “But, um, we don’t have much time. We have to catch our shuttle in 15 minutes …”

“Don’t worry!” she called back. “I’m just giving you the quick tour!”

This is precisely the moment when I decided I liked this woman. She ignored Carney with a fiendish determination. She has personality with panache. She is Unique. She plays by the Chaotic rules to a game she invented herself – some sort of warped real-life version of Calvin Ball. We were in that game now, fumbling desperately to keep score. There are those who bend the rules of our social universe, and those who function on an entirely different parallel. The latter are the true Individuals, as punk as punk gets. It is these Individuals I most admire.

I was mulling this over when the woman thrust a fistful of leaves into my face.

“Smell this!” she piped.

I took a tentative whiff.

“No, no,” she said. “You have to crumple them up!”

I took a leaf and crumpled it up, inhaling deeply. She passed leaves around to everyone, then turned back to me.

“What is it, Trevor?!” she asked. “Hurry up! Tell me what it is!”

I opened my mouth to answer.

“You don’t know?! Come on, everybody knows!”

One of the girls, Rachel, came to my rescue.“It’s cinnamon,” she said.

I thought the woman was going to kiss Rachel full on the mouth.

“Excellent, Rachel!” she yelled, and motioned us onward.

Next she grabbed a fistful of grass and handed us each a blade.

“Chew it!” she said.

Some sort of date rape herb, I thought to myself. Pura Vida.

I stuffed the whole damn blade into my mouth.

“Trevor! What is it?!”

I chewed furiously, trying to redeem myself.

“You don’t know? Come on then!”

Rachel saved me yet again.

“It’s lemongrass,” she said.

The woman capered about like an elf in a Disney movie.

“Rachel!” she squealed. “Two for two! You’re so good!”

We continued this way for some time, the woman periodically shoving exotic herbs into our faces, and us having to guess what each one was. She also pointed to various fruit trees all around her property, explaining each time how the Ticos were convinced the crazy gringo woman would never be able to get them to grow or reproduce. And she succeeded, each time. I told you she lived her life in her own way. Most interesting was a plot of pineapple plants. She told us volunteers plant a new pineapple when they stay, and name it. Then they are encouraged to return in six to eight months and see how their plant is doing.

We were running very short on time. Carney expressed this to the woman, but she shrugged him off.

“You can’t leave before you see the river!” she said.

She skipped onward, but stopped abruptly when a wooly white beast lurched out of the grass in front of her.

Holy Jesus, I thought. What are these goddamn animals?

It turned out to be a white goat of some indeterminable breed. It had some ridiculous name, which I can’t remember at the moment, so let’s call him, oh, say, Henry. The goat had a long chain around its neck. A stake held the chain in the ground. I felt like I was in Jurassic Park.

“Henry!” the woman yelled.

She pulled his chain out of the ground.The poor goat had a long gash in its neck from where the chain had rubbed through the skin. It also had some sort of problem with one of its hooves.

“Henry has to go to the doctor,” the woman declared.

“And we really should be going,” Carney replied.

We finally started back toward the house, dogs bouncing down the trail in front of us.

Just as we reached the corner of the house, Henry saw his chance. He took off through the woods, a flash of furry white lightning.

“Henry!” the woman yelled after him.

She began to chase him.

“Can we please have those maps?” Carney pleaded.

The woman stopped, torn between his request and her desire to save her goat.

“Maybe someone else can go after Henry,” Carney said, looking pointedly at me.

“Uh, I’ll go,” I said.

“Great idea!” the woman proclaimed.

“You go after Henry and I’ll go get the maps!”

Rachel was already running. I took off after her, and after Henry. We reached a fork in the road, and neither of us knew which way Henry had gone. We began frantically shouting his name, walking in crazy circles, looking for direction.

This was the Pinnacle moment of my journey. For all the Wild and Weird adventures I had, this was, by far, the Wildest and Weirdest, no rum required. I had expected to spend the morning lounging around a mountain retreat, and now I was chasing some Individual’s pet goat through the steaming Jungle.

I just couldn’t stop laughing.

I finally caught a glimpse of Henry through the trees, and we ran down a path to find him.

Henry, that Clever Bastard, had doubled back on us somehow, and was casually munching on some grass at the corner of the woman’s house when we finally caught up with him.

We collected our posse, maps carefully tucked into Carney’s pocket, and raced back to the Posada Quepoa.

So ended our time together as a Group. We had served our Purpose, and we parted ways. But I am convinced that this Wild and Weird journey ended in such a spectacular way for a reason. I am generally a Skeptic, but in this instance, I am certain that some Cosmic force drove us on that madcap tour. Perhaps those maps hold some Savage Secret, to be discovered upon our Triumphant Return this summer. Or perhaps it is my job to come up with my own twisted metaphor. So here’s to all of us who went on that Journey … may we always be chasing the goat, wherever we are.

Pura Vida.

~Sketch E.