The Caribbean was excellent. I felt at home there. The rastas ,the smell of sweet sweet chiba lingering around the dust filled streets...the food was spicy, the boys were chocolaty. The morning after our expensive hotel sleepover I had talked myself into staying the week there. I convinced myself, Jenna it's safe, clean, white crispy towels, CABLE, hot water, Canadian owners. It's funny how fast I can talk myself into something. I end up thinking, geez you would be crazy do do anything but! I bartered the owner to get a kitchen for $35 bucks a night, feeling sick to my stomach on the deal I made. (sounds cheap but not when I was told I could find a great spot for 15) we went for a walk and I had a feeling about this little bungalow I saw on the beach so I walked up to a Rastafarian lady hand washing her clothing. "Hola, habla english" first thing I say to everyone always. si si. She says, ok if you habla english you would be saying yes yes! So I eventually got across that I wanted to stay for a week, how much, and could I see a room. The room was basic, clean, and had a shared kitchen. $20 bucks a night. Sold. Hiked back to our "resort" packed our life in a matter of 4 minutes stuck Luca in the stroller made her hold a loaf of bread, jug of milk, and one other thing I can't remember while we checked out and walked down the street. Everyone ALWAYS stares at us. This bag, this child, and me. It looks odd. Where's the husband and why are you stuck carrying everything?!?!?!? Trying to get down this driveway was interesting...so many big rocks that the little 5 dollar strollers wheels got stuck on. It was so hot and I was so done. On one of the rocks I got so frustrated I pushed it really hard in anger and luca, the bread, milk and other item came so so so close to catapulting out. I played it off to Luca like I was playing a game because I felt like it was an act of child abuse.
The time was nice in Puerto Viejo, on our last night we went for all you can eat sushi with two girls we had met, stopped by the bakery on the way home and had a huge piece of chocolate cake. The bakery was closed so we all ate it in the rain on the side of the street.
Speaking of rain. For the time we were there we rented a bike, on our third day I decided we would get up early and take the trek to punta uva. A exotic beach about one hour ride north of p.v. The ride there was divine, the waves were crashing into the street, the surfers were out in full force. Luca loved the ride. Arrived at the beach played for a bit and it started to rain. I knew what this could turn into so we got on the bike and started riding back. This turned into the worst hour of my life. When I say rain I mean sideways, monsoon, you can't see anything, you think the world is ending rain. Riding with your naked child on the back of your bike for an hour equals a complete and udder nightmare. I don't even have to explain this because you can never imagine how horrible it was. I was like the wicked witch of the west trying to get my child to safety. It was insane. She screamed bloody blue murder the whole entire way. WHOLE entire way. By the time we got home I just held her for 20 minuted rocking her apologizing. I felt so sorry.
Tuesday morning got picked up by our shuttle at 8 am and headed for Panama. I was told the shuttle would take us to the border, we would get out with our bags walk across a bridge, and we would be in Panama. Also through immigration of course. Sure enough we pulled up to the so called bridge got out and I attempted to walk across a a huge "bridge" of broken up uneven wooden slats for 15 minutes. Once again I commited child abuse getting the wheels over the rocks game with Luca. Nothing to gripe about it was easy till this point. I peered down the bride and saw a huge line of people waiting to get into the country. A by passer said it was a three hour wait. My legs started shaking and my life flashed before my eyes. How could I possibly wait for 3 hours in 35 degree weather with a 2 year old at the border of Panama and Costa Rica with men in army suits and guns all around me?!?!?!? I waited for about 20 minutes and the line did not move one single inch. A man that was in my shuttle said to me "you can't wait in this, your baby cannot wait in this, something has to be done" Lucy a lovely Canadian woman that I had also met that day walked to the armed army man and said something in Spanish that made him take Luca and my passports and walk into Panama with them. Without us. Again shitting my pants, I waited calmly for his return. Sure enough he came back, waved me and all my shuttle friends to budge the line, stamped our passports and lead us to our car. Once again Luca saved the day. Everyone was high fiving her, sharing their snacks, telling her how pretty she was. It was brilliant.
We took a boat to Bocas Del Toro where raw's
We have no long bus rides, no agonizing border crossings, no nothing. We are here in a safe place with our friends from home. Luca loves her uncle Ezra, she rather play with him than me which is a nice relief.
I have been reading a really intense book on psychology, to love then lose blah blah blah.
I like it but it's really exhausting on my already exhausted brain.I just started Are you There Vodka? It's Me Chelsea. So hilarious, I'm really enjoying it. If you are easily offended it isn't the book for you. But for someone like me who who doesn't know the definition of offend it's the perfect holiday read.