SEA part 2

Off on another South East Asian adventure!  Or at least after 23 hours of flight time I will be.

As expected, there have been a couple of minor travel incidents.  I arrived at the airport and tried to check in at the kiosk but got an error message and was directed to the "resolution desk".  There. I was told that I did not have a seat on this flight.  It was then that I recollected, about a month ago, Priceline called me and said that American Airlines had changed the flight time to LAX and because of that, we would miss our connection to Shanghi and they needed to change me to an earlier flight.  Not a big deal, except for the fact that apparently they only changed it on the itinerary, not in the actual ticketing system, so the airline still has me booked on the old flight.  This, the woman at the desk informs me, is a problem.  Fantastic.

So I stand there, wishing for a paper bag to breathe into,  while we wait for the manager to arrive.  Arrive she does, and she is......how can I put this nicely?- an unsympathetic bitch.  No hello.  No apology.  Certainly no smile.  Just a frosty explanation that, it's really between Priceline and I because it's Priceline's fault, not theirs.  I'm torn between bursting into tears and leaping over the counter to rearrange her face, but I don't think either of those actions are going to get me very far with the ice queen.  Instead I say that I don't actually care whose mistake it is, I want her to tell me what I need to do to fix it because I'm trying to get to Vietnam for my birthday.  I get no response, she continues typing away at the computer for what feels like an eternity, turns to the other woman behind the counter and says, "That's really all we can do," and walks away.  What!?!  I wait for the woman to tell me I'll be spending my birthday alone in the Beirut airport or  some other equally appealing scenario, but she doesn't say anything either and keeps typing away.  I finally can't take it anymore and ask her if I should continue having a panic attack or if I'm going to get on this flight.  Turns out, "That's really all we can do," means "I fixed it, you're all set, sorry for the inconvenience," in bitchspeak.

Nattie and I meet up and make it on the plane.  I nap blissfully all the way to LAX since planes work better than NyQuil to help me sleep and I only had about 2 hours of napping time last night by the time I finished packing.   Upon arrival it occurs to us that we don't actually have the boarding passes to get onto our next flight, so we have to go re-check in at the desk and get them.  At the desk Nattie realizes she forgot to print out the picture she needs for her Vietnam visa, then busts the zipper on her bag and we two things become evident; we are perfect travel companions and it will be a miracle if we make it to our destination.

Picture-less visa doesn't turn out to be an issue and we make it to our gate without a problem, unless you count forgetting your newly acquired boarding pass and your passport in the bin at the security  screening area- which I may have done and not realized until my name was announced overhead throughout the airport, suggesting that I return to security and collect them.

The 15 hour flight itself was okay.  I woke up from a 2 hour nap to be served some truly terrible airline pork and rice, so I ate the accompanying square of cheesecake and went back to bed.  I got about another 4 hours of sleep in before I was awakened by a baby a few rows back who decided that she was over this whole flying thing & was going to let everyone know about it for the next hour or three.  That was followed by 2 hours of staring a George Clooney's dreamy face for the inflight movie & another sub-par airline meal.  By then I was ready for another nap and before I knew it the flight was over.

We landed in Shanghai and had about 4 hours to kill before the next flight. A couple of facts about the Shanghai airport- they do not sell backpacks, they do not have ATMs, and they do not have soup dumplings.  So all in all, a rather disappointing experience there.

I was knocked out for the entirety of the flight to Vietnam except when they came around with what was by far the strangest assortment of snacks I had ever seen arrive on a tray.  It had onion cookies (who thought that was a good idea?), radish spread, a roll with a mini hotdog hidden inside (that is not the kind of birthday surprise I was looking for, I need to know in advance if I'm going to be consuming a hotdog so I can get in the right mental state), some sort of fruity flavored bread, and two cookies that were a cross between an Oreo and those cardboardy sugar wafers. 

When they woke us up to land I had turned 30 in the interim, and Nattie gave me a disposable camera that prints the pictures with birthday borders on them, so that was a pretty awesome start to a new decade.

The visas that we got online ahead of time proved to be nothing more than a way to rid ourselves of $25 pesky American dollars, as we waited in the same line with everyone else, and still had to pay an additional $25.

After paying a taxi driver an astronomical amount of money to drive us to our hotel, the Ha My 2, and unsuccessfully attempting to haggle with the front desk to get a deal on the room they would clearly not be renting out to anybody else at 1:30am, we ditched our bags and went out for something to eat.

The guy at the hotel gave us a recommendation for a 24 hour noodle place that turned out to be awesome.  We sat down at a little table on the street and had some delicious, delightfully spicy, noodle soup and a couple of birthday beers before heading back, full in my stomach and my soul, to the hotel for our first horizontal sleep in 2 days.

Us vs. the Volcano

Having decided that the 3.5 hour drive each way to Arenal to see the volcano was a bit much, the plan for today was to visit the closer, if smaller, volcano in Rincon National Park, about an hour outside of Liberia.

My mom elected to skip the hiking portion of the day in favor of hanging poolside so the 4 of us set out for another adventure.  After only one wrong turn and subsequent turnaround- some sort of record for us- and a 14 (fourteen!) mile ride down the bumpiest dirt road in the universe, we arrived in one, overly jostled, piece.

At the ranger station we got the lowdown- the trail to the volcano crater was closed due to activity and they were out of maps, but invited us to take a photo of theirs.  So we didn't see a volcano, but we did see many other interesting things, despite the lack of a map.

Hanging bridges

Waterfalls

Mud Pots

Water Pots

Mineral deposits

Giant trees

Interesting Foliage

Streams

Two hours later, the "easy hike" left us looking as though we had completed some sort of survivalist training and we piled our sweaty selves back into the car.  As we bumped on out of the park, we saw a sign for a $10 spa at a geothermal spring and decided to stop.

The woman running the show at Symbiosis escorted us to the changing room and after we emerged, scantily clad in our tiny blue towels, she led us to the sauna.  It was highly enjoyable for about 7 minutes, then the fact that I had eaten a coconut cookie for breakfast and then gone on the ironman nature walk took effect and I had to remove myself from the area and sit with my head between my legs, turning six shades of pale and trying not to pass out while our nice hostess fetched me a glass of ice water.

After I revived, sauna time was declared over and we moved on to the next area.  Here there was a giant pot of hot volcanic mud and 4 large paintbrushes.  You really haven't lived until you and three of your closest family members have spent a semi nude afternoon painting yourselves (and occasionally each other, for those hard to reach spots) with mud.

Next it was drying time & we were instructed to lie on the provided wooden lounge chairs and bake in the sun.  This was semi-relaxing, it probably would have been more so if we weren't so worried about keeping our legs crossed so we didn't have to charge the nice couple getting a tour of the facility for a free show.

Next it was time for the geothermal pool rinse.  There wasn't much getting around it- the towels were coming off.  After a little eye averting soak to remove our mud, followed by a cool shower, it was time to return to the towels.  Two more quick dips in the mini pools where we elected to just go knee deep, except for aunt dawn who opted to just wear her towel into the pool, and we were ready to go- only slightly scarred.

Well past the point of hunger we continued down the road and stopped at the Canopy Bar at Hacienda G.  We ordered some Tico Tacos and out came an interesting dish-

Chicken rolled in a flour tortilla and fried, covered with fresh cabbage and topped with mayonnaise and ketchup (though I would be hard pressed to identify it as ketchup in any taste test).  Our waiter also brought us a little ceramic jar with hot pickled vegetables to put on top.  He warned us it was hot but this stuff was no joke and my lips burned for about an hour after we finished.  This combination of items sounds pretty gross as I write it, but it actually tasted quite good.

We arrived back at the house in time to catch the sunset which was really spectacular and the resort next door had a live band playing so it made for a nice final trip to the beach.

After a much needed shower (funny how I didn't feel clean after a muddy splash about in the volcanic waters & putting back on my hiking clothes that didn't need to be washed, so much as burned) it was off to try and have dinner at Picante again.  Our persistence was rewarded and we had a very enjoyable meal of plantains with bean dip, fish and shrimp casados, fish tacos, coconut shrimp and pork with spicy blackberry sauce.  The hotel was really nice with connecting infinity pools overlooking the beach & if I ever get to come back I would definitely invest some time in day drinking here.

Back at the house it was a craaazy last night of packing and finishing our books.

Cumpleanos, Costa Rican Style

Since today was my mother's birthday, we let her choose the itinerary for the day.  Our morning was spent lounging by the pool, as per usual until it was adventure time.

Obviously the first stop was Java Cafe for smoothies

After that I opted to vacate my role as chauffeur and once I finished my smoothie, dozed in the backseat as we drove to Llena de Cortez, or tried to anyway.  The problem being that the driving directions we found online go a little something like this:

"The turnoff is not well marked coming from Liberia (Look for a little store on your right at the turnoff).  The turnoff is about 3km (1 3/4 miles) north of the crossroads for Bagaces. From the turnoff, you must drive a rough dirt road.  About half a kilometer along the dirt road you'll see on your right a large rock with Cataratas scrawled on it. Follow this bumpy road about 1.3 km (.8 mi) to its end at a parking area above the waterfall.  Clamber down a steep path of about 50 yards to the pool at the bottom of this spectacular 50-foot waterfall. Admission is negotiable, $5/vehicle should get you past the caretaker."

So while looking for this alleged "little store on your right," we drove about 20 minutes down an incorrect dirt road, and then 20 minutes back down the same incorrect dirt road.  When I asked someone on the return trip down this dirt road where the waterfall was he said "oh just down the highway there"- super helpful.  We finally found a helpful girl at a fruit stand and in retrospect I feel guilty that I was too hot, nauseous and annoyed to buy a mango or something from her as a gesture of thanks.

Finally on the right path, literally, we made it to the waterfall with only two people scamming us for donations on the way.  From there it was a 50 meter jaunt down some interesting terrain, during which my mother deeply regretted her birthday choice but managed to push through.

We were rewarded at the bottom with a beautiful 40 foot waterfall and surrounding pool, with two additional smaller waterfalls behind us.  There was a couple with a toddler there when we arrived but they left soon after and we had the whole place to ourselves for most of the afternoon.  We did some swimming, sunning and enjoyed a fancy birthday picnic of PB&J, pineapple and watermelon.

 

Deciding we should hike back up before it got dark, we headed for home and got cleaned up for dinner.  Father Rooster was event free, though not mosquito free and I took another bath in the management provided OFF, the official perfume of Costa Rica.  Despite the touristy/kitschy feel to the restaurant (nothing says class like a placemat with a cartoon rooster in a Hawaiian shirt) the food was excellent and there were a lot of locals there.

We had gigantic cocktails, beef tenderloin with chimmichuri, grilled mahi-mahi and shrimp all with sides of rice, black beans and fried plantains- our first legitimate Spanish cuisine of the trip!

 

At the end of the meal they brought out a plate of brownies and little coconut custard cookies (that were delicious!) with a candle for mom's birthday.

Costa Rica: Playa Tamarindo

Since sleeping in seems to constitute getting up at 8, we had plenty of time for breakfast and pool lounging before the appointed hour of noon when we would pile in the car for another adventure.  We saw a sundog while we were swimming which was something new for me.

Surfing was on the itinerary for the day so we headed for Playa Tamarindo.  Unfortunately, we did not opt for a GPS, and the signage here is piss poor so we ended up taking a surprise detour to Playa Grande- a move that tacked an additional half hour onto our hour and 15 minute trip.  Between the intermittent rain, intermittent farm animal crossings, and consistently bad driving, I could have really benefited from a xanax by the time we arrived but had to settle for some yogic breathing.

I know Tamarindo is a tourist trap and probably a legit surfer's nightmare but it was perfect for us- we took one spin down the main street to check out all the surf shops and then parked the car next to the beach.  The mothers were as happy as clams, culling the beach for shells to put in a ziplock bag and stick in a drawer back home so Emily and I headed to the Witch's Rock Surf School shop and rented some boards from their super nice employees.

This was our first time surfing and after being straight up abused by the Pacific on our first couple of attempts, we started to get the hang of things. I'm not saying I wouldn't have benefited from a lesson but by the end I was standing on the surfboard and left the ocean conscious- two giant successes if you ask me.

Our surf fest was interrupted at one point because a guy nearby had gotten pulled out in the riptide and his girlfriend was frantically trying to get people to go get him.  Two people surfing next to us went out to help him but their Baywatch rescue fantasies were quickly dashed when they got pulled out too.  I could see this was going nowhere fast and girlfriend was about to have a panic attack so I ran up to the surf shop to ask if perhaps there was a beach patrol or someone who might come assist before every novice surfer on the beach was sucked out into the ocean trying to help this dude.  She said they didn't have a lifeguard or anything but she would go send one of the instructors down.  I ran back down to the beach where girlfriend had found another group of people walking on the beach and was asking them to swim out and get him.  These guys actually knew how to surf and seemed to have a clue so two of them borrowed our boards and out they went.  The surf instructor came running on in too & eventually all 6 of them got back to shore.  Girlfriend then proceeded to pummel the shit out of her boyfriend and I thought we might have to get someone to rescue him again.

After the sideshow cleared out we took our boards back in the water and Aunt Dawn joined us.  And because our crew can't go anywhere without some sort of slip, trip or injury- on her second attempt, she jammed her fingers with the board.  With that she closed the chapter on her surfing career and bought us a trip to la farmacia for un Ace bandage.

So all in all it was quite an exciting experience!  Even though I am definitely going to be black and blue tomorrow, I thought surfing was awesome and something I'd like to do more of.  I was so happy from the thrill of something new and the half a corona I drank (I plead ignorance to the vehicular open container laws of Costa Rica) that I wasn't even upset to be back in the car again.

Since clearly it isn't safe to take us anywhere, we decided to just pick up pizza and beer (still waiting on that authentic Spanish food) and have a quiet night in.

A Costa Rican Mother's Day

Since we went to bed around 7:30 last night it wasn't much of a challenge getting up.  That said, I woke up at 6, realized nobody else was up and about and went back to bed for an hour until Emily and Aunt Dawn returned from their walk on the beach.

We kicked off the day with a pot of Costa Rican coffee that put the ol Keurig at work to shame and assembled  a random little mother's day breakfast with the eggs, toast and fruit the previous guests had left in the kitchen- as our expedition to the supermercado did not actually result in the purchase of any food.

After breakfast and quiet reading time were over, we headed for Playas del Coco- 2 blocks away.  I'd never been on a black sand beach before and it was an interesting contrast of looking filthy but being clean.  The water was super clear & you could see your feet but it looked like you were standing in mud and the sand actually had sort of a clay like feeling to it higher up on the beach where it was damp from the waves.  April is the end of the high season so there was hardly anyone else around- it was kind if like having our own private beach.  We did see a leathery looking dude, whistling by in a green mankini but judging by his "tan mom" hue, I'd guess he's a local.

 

 

Much to the delight of my mother who has been spoiled by owning a pool and thus refused to go in further than shin deep, we retreated to the condo to take refuge from the blazing noon sun. We lounged by the pool until hunger forced Emily and I to venture back to the supermercado- with a list.  And not a moment too soon, as I had already reached my granola bar quota for the trip and it was only day 2.

We parked on the strip to steal some wifi and double check that all was right with our mothers day surprise.  And since nothing is ever simple, I opened my email to find that since the woman had sent us an invoice but we didn't have the Internet to know & pay it (despite having already given her our credit card info), they assumed we didn't want to go & would not be sending anyone to meet us at the beach.  Since that email had been sent just 5 minutes before we checked- I frantically emailed her back explaining that it was sort of a special occasion & was it possible to still go.  Long story short, emails were exchanges, invoices were paid and crises were averted.

After a quick jaunt through the grocery store (props to costa rica for selling booze in the supermercado though apparently the sale of Reisling is not allowed) we hurried back to the house to get ready.

Lest anyone guess our surprise or think we might be doing something enjoyable we told the moms, among other things, that we were going on an 8 mile hike through a bat cave and that we were going to drop them off somewhere and see who could find their way back first. My mom in particular just loves all of those things so when we drove them down to the beach I think she was relieved.  That lasted about 5 minutes until the tiny rubber boat that takes you out to the sailboat pulled up & I was pretty sure when she and Aunt Darlene sailed off in it- because we couldn't all fit at once- she was probably asking him to drop her back off at our condo.
 




Once we were all safely aboard the Seabird, we settled in for a private 3.5 hour sunset cruise with an open bar and snacks- how's about that for good daughters??

The crew was phenomenal, bringing us drinks, keeping us from falling overboard, even letting us take control of the iPod.  Since the quality of my Spanish is directly correlated with my consumption of alcohol, by my second sangria I was chattering away with them in Español, learning about which famous people have houses on which beaches & what time Ladies night starts at the lizard lounge.  I will have much to report in my weight training and celebrity gossip class with Trudog next Wednesday.

The sail was very relaxing, with the exception of one minor incident when someone's mother fell down on the boat trying to switch sides to see the sunset (the identity of the uninjured party shall remain nameless to protect what is left of their dignity).

Despite the consumption of sangria and "surprise me" drinks, everyone managed to disembark in one piece and a happy mother's day was had by all.

After the sail we headed into town for dinner.  Emily had seen a sign yesterday above a restaurant boasting that it was voted 2011's Best Pizza in Costa Rica by Lonely Planet and being the marketer's dream that she is, hadn't stopped talking about how we should go there.  We ignored her. as we are apt to do, walked up the street browsing restaurants, saw a guy on his bike get hit by a car (though from the chaos on the main street I can't believe it took as long as it did to see someone get taken out), walked back down the street and ended up at Lonely Planet's Best Pizza in Costa Rica 2011.  I do have to give it to them, it was damn good- I'm just a little confused as to why the only Spanish food I have had so far was guacamole- that we made ourselves.

Back at the house we played a couple hair raising rounds of Yahtzee and called it a night, a full 2.5 hours later than our previous nights bedtime.

Louisiana Bound

Fire up the blog, I'm off for a very early birthday adventure with Jen, Brooke and Alana.  None of us actually have a birthday for another 3-6 months but hey it works for me- I'll be crossing a bunch of locales off my travel list with a Central American cruise leaving from New Orleans and still taking another trip in July for my actual bday.

Since I left my packing for the ultimate last minute and felt compelled to bang out the last of Mad Men season 2 before leaving, I got about a 2 hour nap in before heading to the airport but I wasn't too worried since planes make me narcoleptic and I knew I'd get a nap in.  When we got to JFK we discovered that of the probably 100 flights on the board, ours was the only one delayed.  We asked the woman at the counter why, she didn't know...... I know, it's because I'm on it.  Apologies to my travel companions.

One airport breakfast and one extra hour later we were on our way.  Jen had the pleasure of sitting next to a woman we came to know as Certifiable Karen.  She had obviously both visited the airport bar and decided her allotted liquid carry on allowance was best spent on mini bottles of booze and promptly began shooting vodka and Bushmills as soon as her seat belt clicked.  It became clear we were in trouble when a. she asked if we were down with O.P.P. (yeah you know me) and b. she started screaming when the plane took off.  Jen is not the biggest fan of flying and had taken a Xanax but in retrospect, probably should have given it to Certifiable Karen because there was zero chance of her passing out into a blissful, medically induced, mini coma with this woman poking her and telling her in her Big Ang voice about the reunion and funeral (reuneral?) she was going to New Orleans for.  Certifiable Karen spent the last 15 minute of the flight crying and I think Jen may have permanent PTSD, although she said she was force fed a pretty delicious cookie so there was a silver lining in there somewhere.

It was only 10 when we got in so the super helpful guy behind the desk at the International House hotel took our bags and we were off to start the trip right at Pat O'Briens.  We walked up Burbon Street where both the smell and the behavior indicated that a bunch of people had either gotten quite a start on the morning or were still up from the previous evening.  This included some drunk dudes with a cooler who may have been confused about local customs because they gave us leis instead of beads, and a guy being loaded into an ambulance looking like he needed & deserved the stomach pump he was probably about to get.  Needless to say we arrived at our destination with some obvious catching up to do.  We sat in the garden with their world famous hurricanes & mint juleps and were feeling quite relaxed (read buzzed) when we left.

We strolled around the city for awhile checking out the scenery and stopping into places that interested us- i.e. bars.  We had a drink at the Extreme Sports Bar and Grille, connected to the Ambassador Hotel on Tchoupitoulas St.  This was one of the possibly hundreds of Saints themed bars around the city, which was exciting for me since I've been cheering for them since I moved to NYC almost eight years ago- way before they were any good.

We then moved further up the street to a place called Wine Institute New Orleans (WINO) which had a pretty cool concept on wine tasting- their wine bottles are hooked up to machines that give 1oz, 3 oz, or glass pours and lists the prices accordingly so you can choose which and how much you would like to try.  You insert a card into the machine and it keeps track of what you've tried and pay for your tastings at the end.  They have all the bottles available to purchase (and many additional ones too) so if you like something you can take it home.  We tried a bunch and bought some bottles for the cruise so we didn't have to drink the bottom-of-the-barrel-box-o-wine stuff they would be serving.

Our "eat our way through New Orleans food agenda," as prepared by Jen, indicated we were supposed to have some muffaletta sandwiches for lunch but we ended up stopping at Cochon and thank god we did because it was just straight up delicious.  My "giving up unhealthy food" for Lent went out the window a day early when they brought us their southern biscuits but I'm pretty sure they came directly from Heaven so maybe it's okay with Jesus.  I could have, and likely would have, eaten 20 of them if not instructed by Jen to save room for our starters of fried cauliflower, pork cheeks, and craw fish pie.  The craw fish pie was met with rave reviews so I tried it but my continuing involuntary hatred of all things seafood prevailed and I went back to enjoying my cauliflower and pork.  Then out came the cochon with pork rind & braised cabbage, beef brisket with potato salad and macaroni & cheese.  My big dilemma in life promptly became choosing what my last bite should be because they were all so seriously awesome.  No photos of the action here because I was too busy stuffing my face.

We rolled out of the restaurant and back to the hotel for a well deserved nap, after which I might have been hungover- but no matter, there was a bar next in the agenda where I could get a hair of the dog and rally.  We walked over to Arnaud's French 75, a cozy little bar on Rue Bienville with jazz music and fancy cocktails & after a Bartlett Cobbler (lillet, creme de poire & fresh lime juice) I was feeling better, if still mildly headachy.

 

We had a 9:00 reservation at August, a John Becht restaurant, back on Tchoupitoulas (man did we love this street) in a beautiful space inside a renovated tobacco warehouse.  We opted to each do one of the two 6 course tasting menus and share so we'd get to try a bunch of different stuff & threw in an order of gnocchi with blue crab and truffle oil since Alana and I cannot let a gnocchi dish on a menu go untasted.



Unfortunately for me, during course number three of this ridiculously fantastic meal, I could no longer ignore the signs that my hangover headache was actually a migraine and I had to leave the restaurant.  Perhaps after  a 39 day stint of salad, granola bars and other assorted rabbit food during Lent, my body didn't know what to do with sustenance that tasted awesome and my brain short circuited.  I literally cried because I was so upset to miss out on the undoubted deliciousness of what was to come but I couldn't take it anymore & went home to Advil up and pass out.