Adios a mis Estados Unidos

I would have never guessed that a business trip to London two years ago would circuitously lead to one of my best adventures ever. You see, I had a bit of time to burn during my first day in the city, and what better way to combat sleep deprivation (jet lag) than the excitement of sitting at a desk surrounded by accountants? So, I trudged to our London office and found an abandoned desk. As I waited for my computer to boot up (a 15-minute ordeal), I passed the time by (trying to) furtively survey my surroundings, but I immediately found myself in the midst of a conversation with my neighbor, Isabel:

Isabel: Oh, hello! How are you? And who are you?

Me: Oh, um, I'm Caton Walker. I'm here for some client meetings. I'm from the Houston office.

Isabel (by now inexplicably enthusiastic): That's great! Welcome! I'm Isabel!

Me: Well, it's nice to meet you, too. You know, judging by your accent, it sounds as if your native language is Spanish. Where are you from?

Isabel (now inexplicably alarmed): Oh no! Do I sound bad?

Me: No, no! I'm sorry. Your English is perfect. It's just that...

Isabel: ...because I don't want to have an accent!

Me (thinking Isabel should embrace her accent): I barely noticed. It's just that I studied Spanish in college and...

Isabel (wasting no time in returning to her prior state of enthusiasm): Really?! You studied Spanish?!

Me: Well, yes, but I'm afraid I've let it slide a bit since then. So, where are you...

Isabel: Oh! You should practice. You can practice with me whenever you like!

Me: Thanks! I very well may do that. But, where are you from again?

Isabel: Oh, sorry! I'm from Peru. Lima.

Me: Oh, wonderful. I hear that Peru is an amazing place to visit.

Isabel (seemingly shocked that I would say such a thing): Oh yes! That is true! I love it!

Me: Well then, I suppose I should go there sometime.

Isabel: Yes! You should! You will love it. Please, take one of my cards. If you have any questions about Peru, you can call me.

Me: Oh, thank you. And since we both work for Ernst & Young, would it be okay if I were to call you about work sometime, too?

Isabel (apparently not quite accustomed to my sense of humor): Oh, of course! That's okay too.

"Well," I thought to myself, "I like this Isabel person. If she's at all representative of Peruvians, then perhaps I should go there."

So, when I began my Round the World journey, I originally had no plans to visit South America, but, at the last minute, I realized that I had enough frequent flyer miles to make the trip to Lima, so that's exactly what I did. I booked the flight, arranged to join a group trekking trip of the famed Inca Trail in the Andes mountains (which also gave me the perfect excuse to make several trips to REI), and, after showing up at the airport at entirely the wrong time (approximately six hours early, which I suppose is still far better than six hours late), I was off to Peru.

Photos from Costa Rica

My photo album from my Costa Rican travel adventures is now posted online. Please click here to be directed to the online photo album. Once you see the album, click on a photo to enlarge it. I recommend clicking on the first photo and then progressing through in order by clicking "Next" above each photo.

Going Number Three

As it would happen, I was a bit of a straggler in getting to Costa Rica. My brother Wayne and sister-in-law Leslie left an entire week earlier so that they could take part in a week-long diving excursion (and, in Leslie's case, an unending bout of sea-sickness) at a remote island west of Costa Rica. And, since she didn’t fit in their baggage, they decided to leave my niece Ellie at home with my Mom. This meant that I would be responsible for transporting Ellie from Houston to Costa Rica, which consisted of a 3.5 hour flight, plus a 3.5 hour ride on a mini-bus from San José (Costa Rica’s capital and our port of entry) to Quepos. Ellie didn’t fit in my baggage either, so we decided that she’d sit next to me for the entire journey.

My mom took us to the airport, and was immediately smitten by the sight of the chain of baggage and humanity that we made as we walked toward security. After we cleared security, however, it was clear that Ellie was less smitten by the process:

Ellie (putting on her shoes): Ca-tin, where is the car for the plane?

Me: The car? Oh, you mean the cart they use to drive people to the plane?

Ellie: Yeah. Where is it?

Me: Well, Ellie, we don’t get to ride on the cart. We have to walk.

Ellie: Why can’t we ride?

Me: Um, well, you see, the cart is intended for old people.

Ellie (wholly unconvinced by my answer): You’re old.

This was going to be a long trip.

Once airborne, I was horrified to discover that all of Ellie’s electronic toys (portable DVD player, Leapster, etc.), all of which were virtually guaranteed to keep her occupied for hours on end, had no battery power. So, the next 3.5 hours consisted primarily of trying to entertain her and, naturally, placating her rigorous food demands:

Me: Okay, Ellie, here’s the lunch that the nice lady brought for us.

Ellie: What is it, Ca-tin?

Me: That’s a very good question. I think maybe it’s a sandwich. A chicken sandwich.

Ellie: I don’t want it. It’s yucky.

Me (desperate): Well, how about this brownie? Will you eat this?

Ellie: Yeah. That’s yummy!

Me (quite relieved): Okay then. Well then you can take mine and I’ll ask the flight attendant to bring you another.

Ellie: That’s three brownies (She held up three fingers to make sure I understood the gravity of the situation.)! Okay, but you can’t tell Daddy that I had three brownies, or I’ll get in trouble.

Me: There are going to be lots of things we don’t tell Daddy, Ellie.

Later, we arrived at the beach house, where Ellie issued a rather novel request:

Ellie: Ca-tin! I need to go potty.

Me (putting on my bravest face): Okay! You bet! I’ll bet you’re really good at tha…

Ellie (interrupting me): Yeah. I am.

Me: Right. So, do you need to go Number 1 or Number 2?

Ellie: Number 3.

Me (after a pregnant pause): Um, do you have some orifice I don’t know about? Your Mommy and Daddy really should have included that in the briefing. What’s a Number 3?

Ellie: That’s when you go Number 1 and Number 2!

Me (intrigued and rather bemused): Oh, I see. Do you have to go Number 1, then Number 2, or do you go Number 2 first?

Ellie (rolling her eyes): It doesn’t matter, Ca-tin.

Me (trying to engage her in spite of the questionable conversation matter): Oh, I see. Well, what if you go Number 1, then Number 2, then Number 1? Is that a Number 4?

Ellie (clearly losing patience with my inane questions): No, Ca-tin. That’s yucky.

Me: Right. Sorry.

Ellie: That’s okay. I forgive you.

Adventure Tourism for Lazy People

Costa Rica is renowned as a destination for dedicated adventure tourists, eco-tourists, and what I call “pre-extradition” tourists (You’ll find a great many Americans of questionable repute in Costa Rica. These people really don’t merit further discussion.). Apparently, it’s also become a top destination for sex tourism, which now accounts for approximately 10% of all tourism in Costa Rica. By my reckoning, however, the sex tourists should be included in the last category I described above. Honestly, it’s only a matter of time before these people gather together enough money for airfare to Thailand and get themselves into some real trouble. Well, enough of this...

So, Costa Rica is indeed known as a hot-spot for people who crave a bit of adventure tourism or eco-tourism; within this small country, one can pick from seemingly countless varieties of canopy tours, marine activities, and rainforest tours. Costa Rica is also known as a hot-spot for people who like to sweat; thanks to year-round tropical temperatures and truly intimidating levels of humidity, one can enjoy countless hours of sweaty discomfort.

This was my third trip to Costa Rica, so I’d already ticked most of Costa Rica’s offerings off my Costa Rica Adventure Tourism “to-do” list. Additionally, I was in need of a bit of rest after an unusually hectic busy season at work. Taken together, these two factors meant that I would be enjoying a rather lazy adventure holiday in Costa Rica. So, my week of lazy adventure tourism consisted of the following adventures:

Adventure One: This consisted of a bit of waterfall rappelling (that's abseiling, jumping, snapling, and rappling to my British, Australian, Israeli, and Indian friends, respectively). Whatever your nomenclature, waterfall rappelling is where you tie a series of ropes around your junk, and then dangle your body (using said ropes) over a 100 foot (30 m) waterfall. You then descend the waterfall by clumsily loosening the rope. On occasion, you lose your footing and your body slams against the rocks behind the falling water. If you manage to descend the waterfall without injuring yourself, you’ve done something wrong, so you’ll need to climb back up and make another go at it.

Oddly, this activity (the dangling one's body part) wasn't the most adventurous part of the day. Rather, it was the 1.5 hour journey along (extremely) unpaved roads aboard a 4x4 "taxi" that was piloted by our ominously-named driver, “Kamikaze.” I’m pleased to report that I arrived alive.

We had a local guide for the day that was astonishingly well-informed regarding the flora and fauna of the rainforest. As we made the short walk to the waterfall, he'd often reach down, grab seemingly random weeds, shove them in my face, and then instruct me to eat them. As you might imagine, I was a bit wary at first as I typically don't go about munching on plants in the forest. However, I was delighted when he fed me cilantro, cinnamon, rhubarb, and a variety of other delicious plants. By the end of the tour, he had to stop me from grazing on the weeds as we walked back to our base camp.

Adventure Two: Mid-week, the entire family went on a mangrove tour. That's where tourists pile onto a boat and explore the tidal mangrove waterways. With any luck, your boat will include some shockingly rude Canadians (Who knew there was such a thing as rude Canadians?) who insult the tour guide, suggest drowning fellow passengers, and subsequently get tossed off the boat due to their poor behavior. My tour included two such passengers.

Once the Canadians had taken their leave, the mangrove tour was great fun. As we puttered slowly through the brackish inland waterways, we saw several exotic birds, marine creatures, and several troops of white-faced monkeys and squirrel monkeys (Note: A “troop” is a group of monkeys. Add that to your trivia inventory upstairs.) Oh, and we also drank some beer.

Adventure Three: The entire family hired a private guide (after extensive haggling to agree on a price) for a tour of Manuel Antonio National Park, which is a rather breath-taking national park that borders the Pacific Ocean near the town of Quepos. There we saw howler monkeys, at least one caiman, two sloths, too many large lizards to mention, and several other animals. I enjoyed the tour almost as much as I enjoyed not getting bitten by one of many venomous snakes that slither within the national park.

Adventure Four: My dad chartered a rather brightly-colored boat ("The Pink Panther") to take us swimming and snorkeling along the coast of the national park. Despite my initial reservations about climbing aboard an old boat that doubled as a floating work of copyright infringement, it was surprisingly fun. Once aboard The Pink Panther, we relaxed, took turns almost drowning (see the photo of my dad at left), and ate some entirely palatable seafood. Oh, and we also drank some beer.