How to Spend a Day in Quepos

First things first.  The coffee. Costa Rican coffee in a Costa Rican tree house? About as ideal as a morning can be.

 Your java stupor might even make you willing to let Pops take a bunch of photos. 

Until he persists and you must persist in making the photo session difficult.

  

But it's all so nice out, you forgive him.

  Since he knows how difficult he's been, he packs you on a rackety bus that costs two Colones each (about 75 cents) to go to the beach in Manuel Antonio. You hurkety-jerk along, but you don't mind because this is the bus the locals take and far more interesting than the tidy, tourist options.

  The bus lets you off at a road-side market full of colors and happy expectations. Suddenly, you don't mind being a tourist. You buy a sarong for the beach and walk down the way to the sandy shore.

   

 Where Pops is determined in how he will spend his time.

  And I cheer and applaud him from my chair in the sand. I wave and smile and then go back to reading a book and drinking coconut water from a old man who walks the beaches calling, "Frush-a Cocanuta Wata." If you give him a little nod, he'll pull the cooler off of his shoulder, pull out a shaved coconut, give a hack or two with his startlingly large machete, and pop in a straw.

  When your hair is matted with sea water and you are sticky with sand and sunscreen, you find a little place to eat and remark over how tiring doing very little can be.

  And then Pops remembers how magnificent he was on the surf board and exults from his chair.

  And you laugh.

 

And are grateful once again.

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

To Explore Inside the Vatican

 Vatican "Swiss Guard" in still used Renaissance uniform.

 

 Jane and Pops taking in the grandeur.

 

Peter's intrigue in the Latin language increases ...

 

Interior view of the dome ...

 The magnificent Pieta. How marble can look soft and liquid, I'll never know, but we all stood transfixed by the emotion represented in Christ's body.

 Another dome, because they were just so cool.

Pops trying to get yet another photo where it looks like the children are holding up some piece of architecture.  

This was right before the children became so tired of all the marveling and sat down on the floor and we were reprimanded sternly by a severely faced Italian guard that there was no sitting on holy floor no matter what your age. The kids stood back up.

  ... and the view below as we began our climb upwards towards St. Peter's basilica ...

Stand at the crossroads and look ...

 I have been contemplative, of late. Upon the growing list of things I feel compelled to mind-wrestle, is ... the blog. Do I continue? Do I dedicate time to this mode of self-expression? One that has provided a platform for showing myself what my days do really accomplish.

I am not sure, to be honest. I truly cannot commit the time that I once did, as I simply do not have as much of it. It has been allocated to many other good things, but one can only do so much, no?

But yet, I am reticent to stop completely. Scared, perhaps to lose the connection to myself, my life, and the intentionality that comes with examining what God has brought to me today to think upon.

 
When we were in Rome, this spring, one of the excursions we truly enjoyed was our time at the Vatican. Regardless of your spiritual leanings, it is a place to marvel. The magnitude. The grandeur. The history.

But in spite of the reverential feel, both Pops and I felt a bit of a disconnect between the intention of honoring God and truly cultivating a relationship with him. Does God's presence reside more fully in the Vatican than in a country church, or a village prayer meeting?

 
A rhetorical question, to be sure. But one to remind me to be seeking God where I am at, today.

 
To glory in the opportunities of the day. 

 
Be it strolling the paths of the ancients before me,

 
Or walking the path of the Ancient One.

To blog or not to blog? No commitments either way. We shall see. But intentional reflection reminds me that my mind is a noisy place. It forces me to chew through the chatter of my thoughts.

And this always, always leads me back to is the knowledge that He is worth pursuing. He is worth my time. He is what quiets my spirit and gives direction to my steps.

And this is good.

Stand at the crossroads and look;
    ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
    and you will find rest for your souls.

Jeremiah 6:16

Rooftop in Florence

 This is where you dry your clothes when staying in a medieval villa in Florence.

 And where instead of journaling, you do watercolors of the places you've been ...

 ... and the things you have seen. 

And this is the view of the Tuscan countryside from that very rooftop.

And you are happy.

 The Colosseum in Rome is still fresh in mind.

 

 And you smile.

And paint more of what you see.

 And again. You are happy.