Costa Rican Tree-house Visitors

The Tree-House, in Pictures

If you follow this road in Quepos, you find the most extraordinary thing ...

A tree-house nestled in the rainforest of monkeys and sloths and all measures of winged-creatures. 

And you might find my husband there drinking a cup of coffee, pondering  the events of the day ... or lack thereof.

The interior is lovely and even has a little kitchenette with a camp stove and sink. Just be sure to manage the garbage well. Ants inside and monkeys out. An ever-existing dilemma.

 

 It's not often one finds themselves in a tree-house with wi-fi. You can skype with your kids while keeping an eye on those monkeys.

  

  

It's humid, here at the tree-house, but a quick hop in the shower is most refreshing. Just don't get too close to the tree ... the ants are awfully fond of using it as their highway.

 

   

It's fun to do things with my husband ... they don't always have to be fancy. But when given a chance to camp in a tree-house in the Costa Rican jungle? It's worth every single gecko on the walls.

Lovey Howell Takes to the Sea

 On one of our evenings, we went on a romantic sunset snorkel cruise. That was the intent at least. The cruise turned out to be a hysterically bizarre monsoon/thunderstorm, ocean-trek that prompted the Gilligan's Island theme song to continually run through my mind. Ryan asked if I wanted to be Ginger or Mary Ann, but I opted for Lovey Howell. Who wouldn't?

It started off idyllic (see photo) and very gradually progressed into a quease-inducing water gallop underneath blackening skies. The captain was determined for us to stalk dolphins and once we caught the briefest of glimpses, we spun a maritime u-ie and halted at cove where the instructions were to strap a life-jacket to your waist and bail into the darkly opaque waters to snorkel amidst the colossal downpour the skies were raining out. Pops had about 5 minutes in the water before the lightening began and frantic waves to return to ship began. I was too busy minding my mouth-a-gape position to ever make it into the water. I think Lovey Howell would have done the same.

But that's the thing about travel, I am learning. It's hard not to have imaginings and expectations ... and many of them come true. But when they turn south, you end up with an entirely new experience and memory that you couldn't have dreamt up. And often, once you survive it, it becomes the stuff good stories are made of.

A Jungled Path

From our little tree-house in the jungle, we would set off on little adventures each day. Nothing fancy, nothing that a solid pair of hiking sandals couldn't accommodate. Down the side of the mountain we would venture, with a little nod to the locals who were busy fixing their fences or walking home for lunch. Occasionally we'd find a paved road or path, but mostly it was Costa Rican style: dirt roads pocked with holes that served to remind you that you aren't in a hurry anyway, so what's the bother.
   Hibiscus bloom like dandelions would in our own yard


And the hot, humid weather make for tousled hair and a quick fan with one's hat. And maybe a glamour-shot if Pops has the camera.


Purple crabs skitter away as you move through the jungled paths ...

... and I skittered after Pops. A happy arrangement.

In Our Treehouse, Jungle Monsoon

 
  


My love. Fifteen years celebrated. A new adventure together.

One of the Reasons

 

Alajuela, Costa Rica 2013

One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.

-Henry Miller