Zip Lining into year #9...

We rang Riley's 8th birthday in with the classic Costa Rican adventure--zip-lining. We left our hotel at Vista del Valle in our rental car because--arrgggh!--neither Bank of America, nor American Express nor Visa could get cash to us here in CR quickly enough to purchase our new used car (don't worry--we'll figure it out by Monday), and set off for a canopy tour near San Ramon.

A word on Costa Rican directions. I love the Costa Ricans. Tara loves the Costa Ricans. But, truly they are just utterly confused about directions. Numerous times during our trip here in March and again during our now five day old stay, Ticas giving us directions have said izquierda and pointed with their right hand or derecha and pointed with their left. They have told us something is 90 minutes away for us later to find it was only 25 minutes away. And, unfortunately we have found other places to be much farther than we had been told.

Anyhow, the directions to the canopy tour were rather vague but, actually, worked pretty well. We arrived and to our surprise the age limit for this adventure was a mere THREE years of age. Tae is 3.5 and so, throwing caution and common sense to the wind, we strapped all thirty five pounds of him into a climbing harness with three carabiners attached and entrusted him to Erich, who spoke not a word of English but seemed born to whiz through the air with little kids the size of large bags of flour.

Born to Ride!

Because that is really what Tae resembled to my eye...some very large bag of flour or sugar, flying through the air on cables. Sometimes more than 100 feet above the tops of trees and for distances of 550 meters--think five and a half football fields, or about 1/3 mile.

All Geared Up and Ready to Go!

We all loved it, particularly the birthday girl. We especially enjoyed the Tarzan Swing, despite the bellies we lost on it.

Riding into Year #9!

Then we set off for Nosara and, darn it if somebody did not move the place since I was here by myself in May! Back then, it was an easy four hour drive for me from the San Jose airport. Yesterday it was a long, rather painful four and a half hour drive from a point even closer than the airport. Tara insists that it simply seemed longer because we had a 3 year old on the trip who screamed from time to time. Once, for example, Tae yelled "Pee pee on the potty! I have to go pee pee on the potty!" Tara swerved the car into a glass and trash filled, unpaved siding on the road. I jumped out and began tearing Tae out of his seat. He protested, screaming "No! No!" I kept pulling him out, saying "You want to go potty, right? You need to go potty. You SAID you had to go potty." Well, I got him unstrapped and out and there we were: him screaming, pants down on the side of the highway with 18-wheelers and trucks full of chickens zooming by; and me, feeling his wet shorts and underwear, saying "You already peed, didn't you? I get it. You were saying that you already peed? Not that you have to go? Ahhh..."

Well, suffice it to say that such an episode did not occur when I was here driving to Nosara by myself in May. It was a breeze of a drive.

We left the paved road around 6:30 p.m. with the signs saying 30+ km to Nosara. Bumps and potholes met us every few feet and we were surrounded by darkness. I think that added to the sense of adventure...

More later...