So, as there is essentially one internet card for the entire camp here, getting extended internet time is quite difficult - but that's really one of the nice things about being out here. Our phone doesn't work, and as long as I can get the essential e-mail in and out, I'm good to go.
I'll start at the very beginning - our bus ride down here.
We loaded onto a bus in San Jose, which would take us almost all the way here, to El Progresso, a little village just off Drake Beach on the Osa Peninsula. The bus itself was quite comfortable, especially compared to a few specific Indian bus rides I can recall...
We drove out of San Jose, up into the mountains and through the "cloud forest" - you know you are somewhere spectacular when you are driving along and the clouds are below you, or passing by your window.
After about 3 hours, we stopped for a quick break and some more people got on the bus, including a young couple (about 17?). The girl was decked out with hot pink lipstick, a cute little braid, a denim mini skirt, and a bright tank. Put me to shame in my cargos, for sure. The guy proceeded to busy himself with taking care of everyone and everything on the bus - helping load and unload bags, collecting fares, etc. etc. etc. Mom and I are at a disagreement as to whether or not he actually worked for the bus, or if he was just that ADD. Who knows. However, after looking at the poor girl 6 hours later, she was hardly recognizable. Her lipstick and makeup had melted away, her hair was stuck to the back of her neck, and she looked just as miserable as the rest of us to be spending 9 hours on a bus ride without AC.
Soon, our nine hours came to an end, and we got off the bus at some unmarked section of road, where we were to wait for a local bus. And by local bus, I mean that a local guy from El Progresso (or his son) owns a van and comes and picks people up for a small fare. So we waited...and waited...and of course it started raining. Soon enough, before we were completely drenched, the bus arrived and we got on, as well as a few locals who were also waiting. These locals clambered aboard with their wares - a box of ducklings, a propane tank, and some groceries. We followed them aboard, climbed over the tanki and duckling, and found a seat.
Then, all of a sudden I hear, "No Woman, No Cry.....No Woman No Cry." Now obviously, there was no radio on said bus, but there were three drunk Frenchmen sitting in the back with all their packs, bottles of booze, and a guitar. They were quite horrible singers really, and insisted on singing very American songs, with the wrong lyrics - or maybe it was just their accent. "Every sings gonna be alight."
We forded three rivers (probably the same river three times actually), drove through an hours worth of jungle, before arriving to the camp that will be our base for the next three weeks.
Simple. Rustic. Amazing. Believe you me, you wouldn't want hot water anyway. =)
Then, we moved on to our homestay where we sleep and eat. More on the details of that later, but here are some pics of our humble abode.
I'll start at the very beginning - our bus ride down here.
We loaded onto a bus in San Jose, which would take us almost all the way here, to El Progresso, a little village just off Drake Beach on the Osa Peninsula. The bus itself was quite comfortable, especially compared to a few specific Indian bus rides I can recall...
We drove out of San Jose, up into the mountains and through the "cloud forest" - you know you are somewhere spectacular when you are driving along and the clouds are below you, or passing by your window.
After about 3 hours, we stopped for a quick break and some more people got on the bus, including a young couple (about 17?). The girl was decked out with hot pink lipstick, a cute little braid, a denim mini skirt, and a bright tank. Put me to shame in my cargos, for sure. The guy proceeded to busy himself with taking care of everyone and everything on the bus - helping load and unload bags, collecting fares, etc. etc. etc. Mom and I are at a disagreement as to whether or not he actually worked for the bus, or if he was just that ADD. Who knows. However, after looking at the poor girl 6 hours later, she was hardly recognizable. Her lipstick and makeup had melted away, her hair was stuck to the back of her neck, and she looked just as miserable as the rest of us to be spending 9 hours on a bus ride without AC.
Soon, our nine hours came to an end, and we got off the bus at some unmarked section of road, where we were to wait for a local bus. And by local bus, I mean that a local guy from El Progresso (or his son) owns a van and comes and picks people up for a small fare. So we waited...and waited...and of course it started raining. Soon enough, before we were completely drenched, the bus arrived and we got on, as well as a few locals who were also waiting. These locals clambered aboard with their wares - a box of ducklings, a propane tank, and some groceries. We followed them aboard, climbed over the tanki and duckling, and found a seat.
Then, all of a sudden I hear, "No Woman, No Cry.....No Woman No Cry." Now obviously, there was no radio on said bus, but there were three drunk Frenchmen sitting in the back with all their packs, bottles of booze, and a guitar. They were quite horrible singers really, and insisted on singing very American songs, with the wrong lyrics - or maybe it was just their accent. "Every sings gonna be alight."
We forded three rivers (probably the same river three times actually), drove through an hours worth of jungle, before arriving to the camp that will be our base for the next three weeks.
Simple. Rustic. Amazing. Believe you me, you wouldn't want hot water anyway. =)
Then, we moved on to our homestay where we sleep and eat. More on the details of that later, but here are some pics of our humble abode.
(I didn't have the heart to tell mom her mosquito net only works if she's under it)
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