A walk on the slippery rocks...

I have spent a good piece of the past six months reading Eckhart Tolle, who I was first introduced to about eight years ago. Back then, I read his book The Power of Now and here in Costa Rica I have been reading his follow up book A New Earth. Both have been very powerful reads for me. I thought I would share some of the insights from his work.

The one paragraph that most stands out for me from The Power of Now makes this point. (I paraphrase) Thinking, he writes, is an incredibly useful tool. It is one that enables us to understand how the world works, to solve problems, to create new technologies and more. And, yet it is a tool and not more than that, just like a hammer is a tool. If we were to see a person using a hammer non-stop, banging and banging the hammer over and over during his or her waking hours, we'd quickly figure the person was insane, unable to stop the hammering. In the same way, many of us (me included) are unable to stop thinking. To just put our minds on hold and to be, rather than to think.

And the key to stopping our minds from thinking is simple awareness. If I am aware that there are thoughts in my head...who is it that is aware? The true I. The real me (no Who reference intended). There is something behind the thoughts, someone. And this one, suggests Tolle, is the Divine, the Truth, the I, inherently connected to God or the Source of Life or Energy (call this what you like).

I have found that what he writes is absolutely true in my own life. Often I use my mind for very important tasks: thinking about solving a problem in my screenplay, planning out a day or a to-do list, thinking about parenting issues with Tara. And many other times I use it for no purpose whatsoever: mind racing with song lyrics, with a grievance from the near or distant past, with a concern about the future that may or may not come true. It is a wonderful and remarkable occurrence when I suddenly become aware of what my mind has unconsciously been doing. In becoming aware of the racing thoughts, my mind suddenly quiets as if realizing the lack of value in those thoughts. And, the world immediately jumps into sharper focus. Colors brighten, sounds sharpen. I am living in the Now. The very present. This exact moment.

There is an interesting and I think counter-intuitive side to all this. My pre-Tolle perception of some of this "new-agey" thinking is that such thinking requires one to simply accept what is and do nothing to change one's situation. While acceptance of what is is indeed critical to Tolle's ideas, living in the present and refusing to allow one's mind to ramble on is a very pro-active way of being. It means that when I am presented with a situation, I do (should) not allow my mind to worry about it. Either I accept it and be with it; or, I decide to engage my mind in a thinking process to solve it or resolve it. When my mind has offered up what it can, I get back to living in the Now and drawing power from that deep source. It's incredibly empowering.

One exercise that Tolle suggests and that I have found very useful is to become aware of your thinking by engaging yourself deeply in the question: "What will my next thought be?" Imagine yourself a cat staring intently at a mouse-hole just waiting for the mouse to come out. The mouse is your next thought. I have found that when I do this, it takes quite a while for the mouse to pop out, for the thought to come. I am so intently being the cat, the observer, the one who is aware, that the mouse, unrelenting thoughts, has no power to emerge. Try it.

Pura vida...

Jerry

La Ballena Cantando (The Singing Whale)

Monday of mine and Ted’s road trip brought me a top-ten experience…not for this year, this place, or even this decade. For life.

We set out at eight in the morning from Uvita, CR, near Marino Ballena National Park for a trip to go snorkeling, dolphin watching and, if all went well, whale watching too. Marino Ballena is an almost-all-water national park, beginning 50 meters on shore and heading out for hectares and hectares into the open sea, protecting the many animals that call it home, including the migratory Humpback whale.

Humpback whales, up to sixty feet long and forty plus tons (80,000 lbs) migrate from Alaskan waters down to Costa Rica and back for mating (Costa Rica) and birthing (Alaska). As we boarded our twenty-two foot skiff along with ten other tourists, our captain Quiquo reminded us that there was no guarantee we would see a whale. That was up to Mother Nature.

We headed straight out to the Whale’s Tail, a great geographic formation that bedevils anyone trying to label God’s creation. At low-tide, the Whale’s Tale is a peninsula beginning as a narrow sandbar extending from the beach and ending in a perfectly formed whale’s fluke of rock. At high tide, all but the tallest rocks completely disappear and the Whale’s Tail is gone, simply another part of the ocean floor. Ted and I and a new friend Tim had actually snorkeled the Whale’s Tail the day before—but that is another story.

At high tide, the sand bar and rocks that make up the Whale's Tail at Marino Ballena National Park are complete underwater and the whale vanishes.

After just a couple minutes of snorkeling, Quiquo received a call on his cell phone. “Dolphins down the beach!” Snorkelers climbed back in the boat and we zoomed southward looking for Flipper and friends. We were in for a real treat as we discovered a dozen or so bottle-nosed dolphins swimming and playing just a few hundred meters offshore. They swam close to the boat, just under the water and it was easy to see their grey-blue bodies in the clear turquoise water. I attempted some underwater photos and videos of the dolphins, reaching my waterproof camera over the edge of the boat. Unfortunately, none captured the dolphins. Ted captured this nice photo.

Two of the bottle-nosed dolphins that swam and played near our boat.

Though no dolphins breached, they did come up for air and we enjoyed watching them for nearly an hour until Quiquo’s cell phone rang again. “Ballena!” There was a whale 12 kilometers off shore. We zoomed off in search of him, excitement filling the boat. Twenty minutes or so later, we arrived to an inconspicuous piece of sea, marked only by the presence of two other small boats, one of which was Quiquo’s friend who had reported the whale. We learned from him that the whale had breached (jumped up out of the water) about 10 times prior to our arrival.

We all stood, cameras posed at the ready, murmuring to each other, looking all around, waiting, hoping that the whale would come up.

And then he did. About 50 meters away, his back surfaced and I was reminded of Leonard Nimoy’s show In Search Of, and specifically the episode on the Loch Ness monster, in which Nimoy presented grainy photos of the underwater legend surfacing. Like Nimoy’s Loch Ness Monster, our whale’s back was black and bumpy, narrower than I had imagined, almost like of the back of a gigantic serpent. It curled above the water and then descended back down as his beautiful fluke came up and out of the water for a picture-perfect moment.

Ted captured the real whale's tail in this photo. Quiquo estimated the whale at 18 metres (55 feet) and 80,000 lbs.

The whale surfaced in this way several times and we were all delighted. Then, Quiquo asked us all to be quiet. “The whale is singing. Listen," he urged us. We all hushed quickly and, sure enough, we heard the faintest song emerging from the water. It was very beautiful.

And, then Quiquo said to me: “Jerry, is there sound on that video camera of yours?” I replied that there was.

“Jump in then. Dive down a few meters and catch the whale’s song on video. We can hear it a bit now, but when you go down there, it will vibrate through your whole body.”

“Really? Can I go in?”

“Sure. No mask. Just go in like you are.” (Swimming with whales and dolphins in Costa Rica is strictly illegal; I guess his no mask rule was intended to make it look like I just fell in, if somebody came by.)

And, so, a little nervous and being watched by all my comrades on the boat, I plunged into the blue Pacific Waters—the only human for miles around in the water.

I plunged a few meters below the surface and opened my eyes. The salt stung but the vision was of deepest blue. Just as each layer of an onion is only faintest white, nearly see through, but the whole onion is white—here too, each bit of water was the slightest blue, nearly transparent, but the whole impression was of deepest, never ending blue. Extraordinary.

And, then his song rose up through the water to me. Like Quiquo had said, it reverberated through my whole body. I could not see him, but he was there, singing. And I was the only human to hear him in those moments. I was bathed in this impossibly blue water, but even more so, I was bathed in his song.

When I was fifteen, I was in the Badlands, South Dakota and a friend, Jim, and I were hiking in a particular canyon, near sunset. For no particular reason, I ended up in front of him, just as we were about to summit the western wall of this three walled canyon. I reached the top, Jim a few feet below me, and looked over the edge. The sun at that very moment was a firey ball descending below the horizon, silhouetting a deer jumping at that very moment past a wiry, leafless tree also perfectly silhouetted. The stark, South Dakota landscape was lit in perfect orange. And I was the only one to see that moment. The image and the feeling of that moment is forever stitched in my heart and soul. A perfect moment to which I was the sole witness. Jim summited a minute later but already the deer had moved on, the sun had sunk and changed the light.

And, so it was with this whale song. I surfaced after twenty seconds or so, told my boat-mates how stunning it was and then dived back under to be alone with him again. His song again rose up to me. I don’t know where he was and I never did see him under there. He might have been right under me, or 100 meters away. His music didn’t seem to care about distances. It shot right through me as I floated effortlessly in the water, like a baby in his mother’s womb. I came up again uncertain if the salty water on my face was from the sea or from tears flowing from the transcendent beauty of the moment.

I climbed back in the boat and played the video for my boat mates. All listened in silence. Just as I was feeling how fortunate I was to have experienced the moment and how sad it was that my boat mates would not, Quiquo said “OK. Everybody—in the water!” All those with bathing suits on jumped in and none were less touched than I had been.

It is a memory that I will carry forever.

Here is a video of his song (posted on YouTube), as I recorded it (not the bit of Neil Young at the front end however :-))...as always it pales in comparison to the moment of being there.

On the Road Again...

I penned this blog a few days ago, on the road:

As the most devoted followers of this blog will know, our friend Ted is in town. He and I have just zoomed out of Nosara in his rented Daihatsu Bego for a 4-day Costa Rican excursion. Herewith are the highlights of day one.

We scheduled our departure from Nosara for 1 p.m. and left promptly at ten minutes to three, with destination Montezuma or Mal Pais, towns at the southern tip of the Nicoya Peninsula. The coastal road to Mal Pais is said to be a 100km, four hour trip. No typo in that and, for non-metric folks, that is 60 miles in four hours for an average speed of just 15 mph...

Well, it took us about 4.5 hours and that was with one major detour. About an hour into the trip, after passing the beautiful Playa Carrillo--a classic looking paradise of a beach with palm trees lining the whole shooting match--we were confronted by a fork in the road. Well, thank you very much Robert Frost, we took the road less traveled by and it made all the difference.

Unfortunately for Ted, he was with someone whose sensibilities have been dimmed by six months driving on Costa Rican roads. Any other drivers would have traveled three minutes down the path we chose and said "Hey, this isn't a road...it's a walking path or a horsepath. Let's turn around." However, encouraged by my attitude and bringing his own considerable bravery to the day--Ted drove us a solid 25 minutes down what ultimately did turn out to be nothing more than a horse path. We took our Bego through rutted roads, over boulders, past downed tree branches, through still wet water gulleys (this is another topic altogether--where the heck these gullies have found water in our 3-months-rainless Guanacaste, I have no idea). All of this on a path that was a mere 0.0003 mm wider than our wheel base.

Eventually however, having taken multiple scouting trips forward, I suggested to Ted that we turn around. He deftly made a 16-point turn and off we went for the twenty five minute ride out. On the way, we approached a well dressed woman on a horse. Adonde va este camino, senora? we asked. A mi casa, she said. We moved on and so did she after a bit of a laugh and our hoping that perhaps she'd invite us for dinner. But she didn't.

A brief video that really doesn't capture the drama of the moment, but gives you a flavor...

We found our way back to a proper road and had a wonderful rest of the drive. We stopped to watch the sunset over the absurdly beautiful and remarkably empty Playa San Miguel--note to self: go back to this beach!

The beautiful and nearly empty Playa San Miguel, about 90 minutes south of Nosara.

An hour or so later, we stopped at a roadside house, near a fork in the road, to ask for directions (Who says we don't learn!) About six people--four adults and two little kids--were gathered in front of the house, their view of the street blocked by their own car. We pulled in so they could see us, which also put me in a position to see the four-foot long snake hanging out right behind their car.

Well, again, numbed by my time in Costa Rica, I didn't even mention the snake at first. We just chatted from my car window to their front porch, asking directions. But, then their dogs started barking uncontrollably. I realized the reason and said (in Spanish), "There is a snake over here." The husband and another man stood up and walked behind the car and what happened next, happened very fast.

"Ay! It is a cobra! Machete, Machete! Get me the machete!!" Everyone came running, the wife with a big rusty machete in her hand. She gave it to the husband who then proceeded, frankly, to do an awful job killing this snake. He chose for some reason to use the flat end of the machete, smacking the snake over and over rather than just cutting it in two. After about eight whacks from the side of the machete, I saw the snakes head flatten and knew it was dead.

We were all filled with the adrenaline of the moment and there was lots of laughter. I announced that we were driving round the country to protect people from snakes. "Off to the next village!" I said and, with a flourish, Ted and I were out of there. They didn't even have time to thank us.

Immediately after the snake adventure, we drove right onto the beach itself--those were the directions they gave! It was fun, and very tempting to start doing donuts all over the place--you can take the boy out of Jersey, but not Jersey out of the boy. But, given that it was a pitch black night and a bit unclear where the hard sand ended and soft sand began, I contented myself with a few swerves here and there.

Shortly after, we landed in Mal Pais, found a hotel, a good dinner, and called it a night.

Pura Vida, baby.

Take me down to Panama City...

Buenos dias! Herewith is the 2nd part of our family getaway to Panama...

We left Bocas on Tuesday, March 2 and headed to Central America's most cosmopolitan city...Panama City. My impression of Panama City before this visit was entirely created by 1989 footage of US troops invading to kick out Noriega. I vaguely remember some bulleted concrete walls and a fairly desolate looking place, as CNN presented it. I was in for a surprise.

Panama City is a bustling place with dozens of 20 to 40 story buildings, mostly white concrete apartment buildings but also several steel and glass skyscrapers. It is far bigger than San Jose (CR) and brought back many memories for me of my time in Hong Kong 20 years ago.

Downtown Panama City as Riley saw it (with a few missing teeh) from the Casco Viejo on a drizzly day.

Tara found a beautiful, funky, modern apartment to rent in a nice part of town called Bella Vista. And, the bonus is that our friends the Tuttons arrived in Panama City, from Costa Rica, the same day that we arrived from Bocas. So, we had this beautiful place to share with good friends. We were 20 stories up, with a view of the lights of the big city and the port where ships awaited their turn to enter the canal.

The view towards downtown from our 20th floor apartment.

Despite all the highrises some small, colonial style buildings are among the mix. This home was just below us, when we looked straight down from our apartment. Perhaps the guy from Up! lives here..
.

On day one, we visited the Casco Viejo (the old city) and took in the sights of a number of ruins. Highlights included:

• This is a poor photo (I took it) of the ruins of the Church of Santo Domingo and the Arco Chato. The arch in the photo was built in the late 1600s and when folks were considering where to build the inter-ocean canal to connect Atlantic to Pacific, one argument in favor of Panama was the lack of earthquakes in the country, specifically as evidenced by the longevity of this arch.

• 
  
  Killer ice cream at Granclement Ice Cream. This stuff was really yummy. Riley had mint ice-cream, After-Eight. I had Dulce de Leche--rich and creamy. Tae had...chocolate chip, yummy yummy. Baker had Rocky Road - good and chunky. Tara had, get this, Basil ice cream. Loved it!  (Would love to post a few photos of this, but the photo upload tool has just quit on me...later.)
• Running around the National Theater. I am sure is was strictly forbidden but there was absolutely nobody there. First the kids climbed the stairs to the second, third and even fourth story balconies. It was just a matter of time from there that they would invade the stage and backstage too and have a great game of tag all over this beautiful building. The law-abiding adults did not take photos...

After a brilliant luch of ceviche, we headed out to the Miraflores Locks of the Panama Canal, the locks closest to the city. Our visit is captured on this video. It was a great visit. Enormous ships passed through while we were there, pulled by small electric trains (no, not that small--not like toy trains!)

The next day, Tara and Katy Tutton did a thing that is hard to do anywhere but Panama. In a mere three and a half hours, they went from Pacific to Atlantic to Pacific again! They took the Panama Canal train, which parallels the length of the Canal from Panama City to Colon, on the Atlantic Coast. Then they grabbed a cab to drive them back to the Pacific, all before 11 a.m. I'd like to see one of you NY/NJ folks or Californians grab a local cab and head to the opposite ocean!

Pura Vida!

Panama - Bocas

This is a belated blog entry on our wonderful trip to Panama. On February 26, we hopped a flight out of the bustling Nosara Airport, with destination to San Jose, from which we would connect to Bocas del Toro, a Carribbean paradise in northeastern Panama, just south of the Costa Rican border.

Bocas del Toro is a collection of smallish islands in turquoise waters that Chris Columbus visited on his fourth trip west to the Americas. While these islands undoubtedly had names given to them by the natives, Columbus took the step of renaming them and it is his names that stick to this day. Not surprisingly, the main island is Isla Colon, Colon being how the Spanish speaking refer to Columbus himself.

Isla Colon and the bustling town of Bocas del Toro as seen on our approach on a rainy day. (A welcomed rain--as we get none of it out in Guanacaste, CR)

Our plane landed on Isla Colon, in the town of Bocas (yes, the main town has the same name as the whole set of islands). Bocas is a chaotic collection of buildings that together make up all the colors of a burst of confetti. They struck both Tara and I as New Orleans-esque in their style...long narrow houses. You can get some sense of it from this video of Riley and I exploring Bocas on bikes and from the photo below.

The colorful Bocas waterfront.

We walked from the airport to The Hotel Limbo by the Sea, a mere six blocks or so...that's how small Bocas Town is. It was a great home for us for two nights, after which we decided to move away from the chaos of Bocas to the outer islands. While we did see folks swimming in the water right off the buildings in town, it was not quite as inviting as the water we saw right off the outer islands, and there was a bit too much boat traffic.

We were greeted by an outstretched mermaid at Hotel Limbo!

A fruit & veggie stand in Bocas town.

However, before moving, we did have a great boat tour that left from town and took us to Dolphin Bay, and then to a nice snorkeling spot, a very nice lunch on the water, and then to another island to see frogs and birds and sloths, and finally to Red Frog Beach where we saw (yes) a Red Frog and did a bit of body surfing.

Here is a short video of the dolphin and mangroves part of the boat ride (but admittedly the video does not capture much.)

When the rain came pouring down on Day 2 of our stay in Bocas, we decided to head out to the outer islands. The search for a nice place to stay was on and I am very happy to say, We won! We found this great little hotel that was a set of six casitas built on stilts on the water. Owned by a young couple from Argentina, Eclypse de Mar was run largely off solar power. We went without power during daylight hours but had lights as soon as the sunset until about breakfast time.

The Casagrande Boys at Eclypse de Mar.

Our room, literally had windows built into the floor, allowing us to see into the turquoise water below. We proceeded, in the rain, to have the most remarkable day. Planets aligned, stars fell into a particular configuration that must occur just once in a parent’s life. In the rain, with no electricity to entertain them, our three children (even the rather rambunctious Tae) took to reading books, playing calm and rather quiet games, chatting with Mom and Dad (ok, and playing on the DS a little bit—but not too much). And, we had an unbelievably lovely day. Quiet, relaxing, in a particularly beautiful spot of this planet.


Well, the next day we awoke and—uggh—it was still raining. And, though no child became unglued, it was clear to Tara and me that the alignment of planets and organization of stars had ended. We needed some sunshine and some outdoor fun. Whether Tara did a secret sun-dance and did not tell me, or something else, our wish came true. The sun came out, shining brilliantly on the Caribbean waters and we set off on another boat trip.


This time we headed north up to the Bocas del Drago, the northern end of Isla Colon. There we had a very nice meal on the beach and the kids played and ran around.

Tae running on the beach during lunch at the beach of Boca del Drago.

We then set off for more or less open sea, away from the protection of the many Bocas islands. We headed to Isla Pajaro (Bird Island)—a small island, or more accurately, very large rock, about a half mile northeast of Isla Colon. It is in open sea and on this day the swells were big! Our tiny ship was tossed and if not for the courage (and altered mental state--yes, that is how he spent our lunch hour!) of our Rasta boat captain, the tiny ship would have been lost. Bird Island is the only home in Panama to the Red Billed Tropicbird, a beautiful bird with long white tail. Many of these flew on and off of the rocks. So, too did a larger bird that looked a lot like a lost penguin, only a flyer not just a snow-slider and swimmer. Both birds were very fun to watch.

The Red Billed Tropicbird, found in Panama only on Isla Pajaro.

 

We were nearly smashed into the rocks of Isla Pajaro.

But the most excitement was the thrill of nearly smashing on the rocks. Our captain, to his credit, had his eyes set almost continuously on the oncoming waves that smashed their whitewater and anything it carried into the island. Fortunately, we were never among the things the waves carried in and so we boated away from the island all smiles.

Whitewater smashing into Isla Pajaro.

The "penguin-like" bird on Isla Pajaro.

Departing from Isla Pajaro, we went to Playa Estrella (Starfish Beach), a sandy spit on Isla Colon where starfish lay in the clear shallow water by the dozens. We all swam and played there for an hour or so. There were however some no-see-ums in the water, perhaps mini-jellyfish that were stinging a bit and got Riley in particular, so she stayed out of the water for a while.

One fun activity was to flip a starfish over and watch it turn back. Really interesting to watch them move…in general it took a starfish between two and five minutes to flip back over.

Tae finds a starfish at Playa Estrella.

A starfish flips back over in under five minutes.

The next day was our last in Bocas. Riley (who had a sore ear) and I headed into Bocas town and adventured around on bikes and produced the first ever International Coin Olympics, in which a Costa Rican coin, a Panamanian coin, and a US coin battled for supremacy in being flicked across a plastic table. The winner was the coin that consistently achieved the longest distance. For those interested, the Costa Rican 100 Colones piece took the gold, the US Quarter took the silver, and the host nation Panama came in a disappointing third, taking the bronze with its quarter of a Balboa coin.

Meanwhile, Tae, Baker and Tara had a day of snorkeling. I can’t tell you too much about it—encourage Tara to write on it. But I can post some photos of the day. I know they had a ball.

Stay tuned for a blog on our two days in Panama City…

Pura Vida

Tae & Baker on the beach during their snorkeling trip.

Another beautiful Bocas beach

And another...

And a Bocas babe!

Where we were married all over again!

My last blog was an attempt to express the beauty of our Playa Pelada with words. Fortunately for me, mine and Tara's friend Ted is visiting and has taken some wonderful photos of Pelada. Let me share them now.

And, let me add...Tara and I just got remarried! Right here on Pelada. As some of you know, Ted officiated our wedding eleven and a half years ago in Niagara on the Lake, Ontario. Having him here in such a beautiful spot inspired us to have a ceremony to rededicate ourselves to our vows. In attendance were my best man (Baker), Tara's Maid of Honor (Riley), and our ring bearer/flower boy (Tae). It was a beautiful ceremony on the beach where most of these photos were taken. (though these were not taken during the wedding.) I was delighted to marry her all over again!

Pelada's tide pools at sunset.

Tae and I explore the tide pools.

This piece of land is attached to the mainland at lowtide and is an island at high tide. The tree jutting out from its eastern side is just beautiful.

No words needed.

Tae runnin down the path to Pelada.

Tara & Tae swimming at night in our pool.

Ri & I after dinner

Low Tide, High Tide - A beautiful place

Baker, Tae and I have just had a beautiful 20 hours or so. Working backwards…

We have just returned from a couple hours on Playa Pelada, the beach that is now just a five minute easy walk from our home. We set out in the hopes of exploring some caves on the north end of the beach that only Baker, amongst the five Casagrandes, has yet visited. Along with us was Baker’s friend Omid who spent the night last night.

More than Playa Guiones, the other major beach in Nosara and the primary surfing beach, Pelada transforms itself in the six hours from high tide to low tide. At high tide, it is a narrow strip of sand with disorderly waves crashing up near the scraggly trees at the top of the beach. At low tide, it is a three-quarters-of-a-mile long collection of exposed rock and tidal pools, interspersed with sandy areas that are great for swimming. There are rarely more than a dozen people scattered along the northern two-thirds of it, with just a few more than this—maybe thirty or so along the southernmost quarter-mile. In short, it’s usually empty. And today was no different.

We arrived about an hour and a half before full low-tide. This made it a bit too early to get to the caves, we discovered, as they were still covered with too much water. We will venture back another day at the full measure of low tide.

Instead of exploring the caves, we walked along through the tidal pools, Tae exploring each and every nook and cranny. I changed my focus back and forth from the tiny crabs, minnows, and snails that made their homes in the pools to the whitewater crashing on the rocks further out. Both the microworld of the critters and the macroworld were intensely beautiful, peaceful, calming.

Tae frolicked among the rocks, squealing in delight at each little animal he found. The tidal pools seem to be of volcanic rock, with thousands of dime and quarter size indentations made, I imagine, by the various animals and corals that have lived in these rocks over the millennia. Some pools are just inches deep and others a foot or more. Ultimately, at the south end of the beach, Tae and I found a sort of swimming hole that was a full five feet deep. Can’t wait to show that one to Tara.

Part of my macro-view was of Baker and Omid walking and alternatively running down the beach to the best swim spot. Somewhere Norman Rockwell must have a painting titled “Friendship”, with this view: two boys walking and running down a beautiful beach, whitewater crashing into rocks sending mist into a cloudless, perfect sky.

Tae and I eventually caught up to Baker and Omid and joined them in the water for some idyllic body surfing. As I looked around, I enjoyed the rocks even more—stacked like pancakes into enormous boulders, positioned like half-sunken ship-hulls from long ago.

We finished off the experience with ice cold cokes at a little beach bar called Olgas.

* * *

And, yesterday, at sunset, we went to the Boca Nosara with a few friends. The Rio Nosara (Nosara River) flows from the mountains east of Nosara down to the sea, separating Playa Pelada from its northern neighbor Playa Nosara. At the boca (mouth) of the river, the tide rolls in and out, changing the landscape multiple times a day.

When we arrived to the Boca yesterday, the tide was coming in fast. The river had the strongest current I have yet seen in it—water rushing upriver from the ocean, towards the town and the mountains beyond fast enough to create small rapids. It was with great excitement that Baker and Tae and I and our friends plunged into the river, waded chest high through its strong current, and reached the sandbars and ultimately Playa Nosara on the other side.

We were not alone. Fisherman, tico and foreign alike, were spread across the boca casting their nets and lines while pelicans and other smaller white birds were more effective fisherman, swooping and diving and inevitably coming up successful. The orange sun lowered itself over the mighty Pacific, whose waves crashed on the beach, misting up and reflecting and refracting the last light of day.

I didn’t have a camera with me for either of these trips and that is too bad for no matter how hard I try to describe how serenely beautiful these two times were, my words will fall short. However, I am including a few photos I have found on the internet of Playa Pelada and the Boca Nosara, none of which really give expression to the beauty of the day.

(FYI, Tara and Riley are in Naples, FL visiting my mom and ensuring that Tara’s US Citizenship application stays on target.)

Pura Vida!

The Boca Nosara

Playa Pelada at Low Tide

Playa Pelada

Sittin' on Top of the World

Giving that we currently live in Nosara, CR - a true surfer's paradise - one would assume that the title of this entry refers to catching a sweet wave. However, I write today from the 20th story penthouse of a downtown Panama City apartment building. We are on vacation with our friends the Tuttons and have scored a little urban paradise for 3 nights.

For those who have been to Hong Kong, the vision of Panama City will bring back a flood of memories. As I look out, I am surrounded by twenty to forty story buildings, many of them white apartment buildings and a few glass and steel skyscrapers. Only one or two are in and of themselves architecturally interesting, but the whole combobulation of them together is a man-made feast for the eyes.

Off to my right (the west) sits the Pacific Ocean and a tidy looking marina. I can see a few ships, presumably waiting their turn to enter the canal. 

From below, comes the sound of a hundred car horns and squealing bus brakes. 

This place is a vast change from the dust roads, howler monkeys, and pounding surf of Nosara.

Photos to come.

Jery & Tara