Cuban Cigars & Caribbean Waves - A Perfect Ending

Juego Terminado. Translation: Game over. Our bout in the beautiful country of Costa Rica is officially complete. We are safely back in the United States without any major hiccups ... Praise the Lord of Abraham, Jacob & Isaac! Our last night in Costa Rica involved a ransacking of the local grocery store for their coffee, hot sauce, dulce de leche, and pineapple jam. Thus, with our bags packed to the brim with Costa Rican goods and our new brandished tans, we were warmly welcomed back into the Land of the Free. (And of course hot water, toilet paper, and to-go coffee cups.) Suprisingly, U.S. customs had no problem with our mini-export coffee operation that we had going on considering I transported enough to keep me and my network of brethren caffeined up until the Rapture.


It feels like a lifetime has gone by since we left, but at the same time its as if we were never gone. Already, the daily tasks are piling up in my head and its back to the grind! Its funny how the concept of time felt so different down there. The days felt more fulfilling, richer with memories, and slower than that of a "regular" day in my normal life. Additionally, the excruciatingly slow bus transit system literally forced us to sit, be still, and enjoy life sans the pressure to constantly be moving and doing something. Consequently, comparitively speaking I felt like our days were so lush with substance as oppposed to a day in the office where routine tends to sterilize the hours of the day. So in that sense it seems like years of memories have past with all that we were able to cram into the last 13 days.

My favorite memories throughout the whole trip was the memories that were made through all our interpersonal interactions with one another and the random people God placed in our path along the way. The natives were so extremely helpful, hopsitable, and downright sweethearts wherever we went. And the random foreigns that we met throughout our trek were nothing short of absolute hilarity and intrigue. Some top favorites include the French guy we met in Monteverde who was astounded that we would liken France to Crepes, the friendly housekeeper named Flor who rambled off much of her life story to us over bread and butter, crazy bus stop man who was deported from Costa Rica, the Brazilian-New Zealand-Estonia trio (enough said), weird mustache surfer bunk mate, cute zip line guide dudes, the foul-mouthed Swedes, crazy drunken Columbian restaurant owner, Amy's dance partner in Cahuita, the infamous to whom I am now a disciple: Swimmerman, and Silver the 21-year-old park worker ... just to name a few. The people definitely made the trip what it is, was, and is yet to come. (Not sure what that means, but I'm leaving it.)

But, I have to say, aside from the picturesque waves, the jungles, the wildlife, the culture, the culinary delights, the foreigns, and all the other blessings I expected out of the trip, the one and most important blessing I did not anticipate came from the four unlikely woman that made up the traveling posse. In hindsight, with four totally variant personalities, temperaments, and travel styles -- not to mention the fact that some of us barely knew each other -- I am astounded at how well we came together to make this trip such a monumental time. There were some rocky times for sure (missing buses, things lost in translation, robberies, losing bottles upon bottles of aloe vera, etc.) but in the end God taught us (or maybe just me) a lifetime's worth of lessons in teamwork, patience, and love.

The interactions between the four of us that often times are confined to surface-level mini conversations were stretched to deep levels that explored all kinds of facets of everyone's personality. Those three woman know so much about me at this point ... I should probably kill them. (A jest.) Likewise, I could now tell you who was hung upside down and tortured relentlessly by their brother, who flushed the toilet on their father, who broke a pen on someone's face and who once had to stare at a toilet for 30 seconds to appease their father's packing checklist. That was seriously the good stuff of the whole trip.

But vacay time had to come to an end and its back to work for all of us tomorrow at 8 a.m. Thankfully, I have a) Costa Rican caffeine to help make the transistion a smooth one and b) the perfect ending to a crazy showdown in Central America: smoking a Cuban Cigar in a rocking chair overlooking the ocean. Life. Is. Good.

The Caribbean.

Untamed palm trees. Fruit smoothies. Reggae. Coconuts. Small dogs named Jorgecito. Pineapples galore. The Caribbean. We have arrived. And so has my sanity.

With only a few days left of this legendary vacay in Central America, we are all completely speechless from all that has happened in what seems like a lifetime of events. From Day 1 to what is now Day 10 I think, we have traversed what feels like the entire country of Costa Rica and a sliver of Nicaragua, waited at a gazillion bus stops, spent about a gazillion colones, doled out over a hundred thousand "holas," caused a spectacle everywhere we went, and of course consumed more rice and beans than I ever wanted to in my lifetime. But we have finally arrived -- Caribbean side -- in what we think is going to be our last destination before heading back to the airport and hitchin' a ride back to the States. As I'm writing in a loft overlooking our hammock-strewn hotel grounds and the peaceful waves of the Caribbean, I am overwhelmed by all our adventures in the last few days.

In fact, I'm not even sure what to document anymore. Since the last update, we experienced San Jose ... again. And in case we forgot, yep, we still hate it! However, it was a quick and painless stop to get Amy a new passport after the stealth robbery in Puntarrenas. We then made our way on the snail-like Costa Rican bus to Monteverde where we found ourselves staying in the back of a gift shop. However, don't despair. It was the smartest decision we ever made. Love-struck teenagers and a friendly native named Jarve -- who in fact strongly resembled the Columbia Coffee Can Man -- aided us in strategically planning the duration of our time in Costa Rica and, most importantly, our run to the border into Nicaragua.

And I'm not kidding when I say run for the border.

Basically, everything our guide book said NOT to do when crossing the border ... we did. I guess you could say, we are the text book example in the flesh of the wrong way to cross the Nicaraguan-Costa Rican border. And once again, probably by the grace of our God, we are alive to tell -- or blog -- about it today.

The border crossing day -- which I now refer to as the longest traveling day in the history of man -- began with a 6 a.m. bus ride to a small town called Chomes. Or as I now refer to it "Hell on Earth." We proceeded to wait 3 hours for a bus that came and never stopped. Hopelessly we waited for another bus to come, which we were assured time and time again by the locals that it would indeed come. However, to our dismay, and 6 hours in the hot sun later, the bus never came. Now, with our entire plan to make it to Nicaragua by night fall blown and essentially much of the Jarve-inspired strategic trip plan obliterated, we found ourselves sitting helplessly at a restaurant in Liberia feeling glum and defeated. Much of our plan to come to Costa Rica hinged on the fact that we would make it to Nicaragua. Feeling that possibility slip from our fingertips was like a mighty blow to the large intestine.

But then a voice ...

"I will take you to the border for 50 dollars," a voice of an angel -- obviously in English -- said from a table behind the bar. "It's a good price. I want to help."

Ok, I know I'm making this sound all dramatic. But really, it was dramatic.

We knew that if we tried to make it to the border that day we would have to cross at night, which everyone and everything had warned us not to do because of tensions at the border and the danger level. You could probably say it was Code Orange danger level. But if we didn't leave that day due to the hideous state of public transportation here, Nicaragua was out of the picture. Determined to get there, we took the Taxi driver man and his wife up on his offer and we took a taxi to the border. Once at the border, we had to get our stamps and walk through a brief forest to get to the Nicaraguan side. Holding hands -- yes I know dramatic -- we crossed into Nicaragua praying for protection. And we got it. Upon our crossing, another angel showed up and led us through customs, immigration, paying taxes and took us to San Jorge, our destination spot in Nicaragua.

Our only regret thus far -- besides not owning a private jet -- is that we were not able to spend more time in Nicaragua. We made it to an island called Ometepe, a volcanic island located in Lake Nicaragua and the beauty of the place was completely overwhelming. We started the day by eating at a family's house for breakfast with a wild chicken pecking at our feet -- a health inspector's worst nightmare -- and we spent the rest of the day moving rocks at a church construction site there on the island. I cannot express what a blessing it was to be at the church and interacting with church-goers, the Father at the church, and the church construction workers. We only hope that the work we were able to do for them was as much of a blessing to them as they were to us.

On that note, I have to say, this trip has really afforded us the ability to be stretched physically, emotionally, and for me personally, spiritually beyond all get up. It just hasn't been your normal crazy two week vacation one would expect when visiting Costa Rica. God has shown up in mighty ways throughout our trip and has really given me the chance to reflect on how prevalent and active He is all across the board. The faith of the people here is so real, so evident, and so lived out ... and it looks completely different from much of the faith that we see and experience back in the States.

There is so much more to the story, but I think this internet place is closing and I have to go pick up some laundry that we are doing here in town. We are staying in a place called Cahuita which is in the southwest region of Costa Rica and it has a lot of creole, Jamaican, and Bob Marley flavor to it -- and to Abby's delight of course, lots of people with dark skin. We arrived here on a Private Shuttle that we took from Liberia to here, a six hour drive that would have probably taken us a decade to get here should we have opted for the public bus. So, as you can imagine, we are elated beyond elated to be here and soaking up all the sun we can before going back to Colorado. Guaranteed, we might be the most sun-kissed skiers on the mountain when we return!