Is Not Chicago

Today marks exactly one year since I departed on my month-long adventure around Europe. And it’s been quite a year: an excellent summer in Chicago, adventures in Colorado, Atlanta, and Las Vegas (when you turn 30, you’ve got to do it in style–which may or may not be what happened in Vegas). And finally, sneaking in just before a full year stuck in America, I made my triumphant return to Costa Rica.

While my previous stay in Costa Rica was near Tamarindo on the west coast, this year led me to Puerto Viejo in the province of Limón on the Caribbean coast. A land of Rastafarians and Reggae, I’ve never been asked more often if I want some ganja. Sadly, the weather wasn’t too wonderful. It was overcast most of the time and rained almost every day, but that didn’t prevent sunburn and shenanigans.

I went with my friend Sarah from Alaska. There were supposed to be two more of us on the trip, but that is a tell better left off the intertubes.

After flying into San Jose, early the next morning we hopped on a bus to take us white water rafting on the Río Pacuare. I highly recommend this trip through Exploradores Outdoors, especially if you are heading out to the Carribean coast. As part of the cost they pick you up from your hotel in the morning and will drop you off at another hotel in another town.

The river has some class III rapids and a couple class IV. It starts off with mostly IIs, leading me to worry it wasn’t going to be all that exciting. But after we started hitting the IVs, getting stuck in a rapid, and having another boat land on top of us, the excitement definitely increased.

That night, after dinner and a few Imperials, we returned to our hotel to hang out and drink a couple more Imperials. As we sat around on a patio by the jacuzzi debating whether the frog hanging out on one of the chairs (see below) was still alive, suddenly everything went dark. We sat wondering if maybe the hotel turned the power off at night and just forgot to mention it to us. I have not experience such darkness since spelunking in high school and all of us turning off our flashlights to experience true pitch black. No lights in the entire town and the clouds obscured all the light from the stars and moon. It was the next night while we were at the bar and the bartenders didn’t skip a beat and started setting out candles when we realized this was a common occurrence. Fortunately, that first night I had my camera with me and was able to use the LCD screen to the light the way, otherwise there is no way we would have made it back to the room. Then, over the course of the night, we were awoken several times by the phone ringing, which apparently happens every time the power comes back on. Combine that with the frogs, howler monkeys, and other odd jungle sounds, sleeping soundly was quite difficult.

We spent the next couple days sleeping in, swimming, and exploring. Our hotel was directly across the street from Playa Cocles. A great surfing beach, but sometimes a little rough for swimming. One day we rented bikes and biked the 12km to the small town of Manzanillo. Of course, a storm started shortly after we began our ride, but we didn’t let that deter us. There’s a great swimming beach at Punta Uva, and more great swimming in Manzanillo.

Sarah’s travel buddy Chanchito hanging out with his Imperial in Manzanillo.

With the 90 degree heat and the rain (resulting in 90-100% humidity) our clothes never quite dried. Taking everything out of our suitcases back in San Jose was a stench I still haven’t forgotten (and had to re-live upon opening my suitcase back in the states).

A couple recommendations for places to eat in Puerto Viejo:

El Loco Natural: Sarah had an amazing tuna steak, and I had a tenderloin in red curry sauce. Wonderful piece of meat that melted in my mouth and the curry only accentuated the taste of the beef without being overpowering. If you go to Puerto Viejo, you absolutely must eat here.

Flip Flop: A small local place recommended to us by one of the river guides. After eating there we found out he works there three days a week because he loves the burgers. I highly recommend this place for lunch.

And what trip to Costa Rica could be complete without a Canopy Tour. I can’t recommend the company Terraventuras. I’ve never been on a more disorganized tour. They left people behind at the pick-up point, left us sitting in a van for 30 minutes without telling us what was happening while they got those other people to us. But once we arrived at the tour, all of the guides were fantastic. You can’t live la pura vida without a little zip-lining.

Stay tuned for the next adventure: Mount Kilimanjaro, coming this July!

First off, my boy Hassan Annouri’s new video filmed in Morocco. I met this guy and his video crew chilling at at awesome seafood restaraunt in Asilah. It’s in German, but that doesn’t make it not sick. (His new album drops July 31)

Next, my boy Trevor, whom I met in Marakech. He took some awesome photos throughout Morocco.

I really want something to be blowing up behind me.

More Sahara photos…

More Fez photos (on Facebook)…

And finally, my final stop on my trip, Florence. By far, the most amazing Italian city I’ve been. I highly recommend Dante’s House and the Uffizi Gallery (home of several of the ninja turtle’s works).

View from the Duomo

You can’t tell me Dante’s not a badass.

The Duomo

A replica of the David. (I saw the real David, but it was really tricky to get a photo without security catching you)

Photos

I must apologize to my faithful readers for the tardiness of these last few sets of photos. And more importantly, I must apologize for my severe lack of pictures in Torino. While the weather was less than optimal, I had a fantastic time with my excellent host Floriana. Since it was raining for much of the time, outside was not much of an option, so we spent time seeing the excellent Egyptian museum and the fantastic Cinema museum in the iconic Mole Antonelliana. On a side note, I very much enjoyed the pun in Torino: “Il Po l’adora” translated as “the Po loves her” with a play on the names of the two rivers of Torino, the Po and the Dora.

We also took a trip with several friends up into the mountains (to be honest, I’m not entirely sure where we went) for a night. Once again the rain would not abate, so the evening and next morning were spent relaxing inside and playing board games. Taboo is a very difficult game to play when you don’t speak the language very well. But I was able to get one right, only I didn’t know how to translate the answer to Italian. “Primo uomo” = First man = Adam = ?

Finally, we took a day trip to Cinque Terre before I headed to Florence. Here again I complain about the rain. Many of the walking paths were closed due to the weather, and nowhere would store luggage. Only in the final village was I able to drop it off and explore unburdened. Fortunately the rain wasn’t too bad and I was able to explore the towns. I shall definitely have to return to see it in the Italian sun.

Torino

Cinque Terre

Monday: I returned back to the hostel in Granada after a day exploring the city.  I began researching train tickets to return to Barcelona on my way to Torino. My initial plan consisted of taking the train back to Barcelona, spening a day there, then taking the train through Southern France with a stop off in Montpiller or Nice. After discovering the train takes significantly longer than planned and knowing I needed to be in Torino by Thursday to meet my friends I began investigating other options. Upon looking up airfare and train schedules, Barcelona was out of the running. Based on price and timing, I would take the train up to Madrid, spend a day there and fly to Torino the following morning.

Here’s the awesomeness I saw in Madrid:

I apologize for the terseness that will probably be the rest of the posts from this trip. I am back home in Chicago and slowly making my way through my photos and stories of the last week and a half in Europe. Stay tuned for Torino and Firenze (Florence).

Granada, tierra soñada por mi,
mi cantar se vuelve gitano cuando es para ti,
mi cantar hecho de fantasía,
mi cantar flor de melancolía
que yo te vengo a dar.

Granada, land of my dreams… Your thin arabesque calles, your daunting yet inviting cuestas, your splendid miradores overlooking the city. Your grand vista of the majestic Alhambra obsuring the horizon. And beyond the towers and crumbling walls stand the snow-capped peaks of the Sierra Nevada. The fire of Flamenco was conceived and born in the caves of Sacromonte. Wandering around the city you can feel that not only is it obvious this is the womb of Flamenco, but that Flamenco was the inevitable outcome of the union of the Spaniards and the Moors in this town. The West embodied in the Christian Cathedrals and the East in the Arabian palaces and streets.

Up the hill toward the old Moorish wall, Gypsies and hippies live in houses built into the caves. Empty beer bottles line the tables on the patios telling of the tale of a long night passing the time under the shining Andalusian moon.

And all of this can be seen from the terrace of my hostel. Please, stay at Mochi Guesthouse, you will not be disappointed by the staff, the facilities, and definitely not by the view.

Granada, tierra ensangrentada
en tardes de toros.
Mujer que conserva el embrujo
de los ojos moros.
Te sueño rebelde y gitana
cubierta de flores,
y beso tu boca de grana
jugosa manzana
que me habla de amores.

Then, we reach the Alhambra. Washington Irving describes it:

TO THE traveller imbued with a feeling for the historical and poetical, so inseparably intertwined in the annals of romantic Spain, the Alhambra is as much an object of devotion as is the Caaba to all true Moslems. How many legends and traditions, true and fabulous; how many songs and ballads, Arabian and Spanish, of love and war and chivalry, are associated with this oriental pile! It was the royal abode of the Moorish kings, where, surrounded with the splendors and refinements of Asiatic luxury, they held dominion over what they vaunted as a terrestrial paradise, and made their last stand for empire in Spain.

Inside, my first stop was the Royal Palace of Charles V, the enormous monstrosity built in a vain attempt to overshadow through sheer size the elegance of the Nazrid Palaces.

Inside the Nasrid Palaces, a calm beauty breezes with the wind through the courtyards and quarters. The walls and arches, the work of incredibly skilled craftsmen, are covered in ornate wood and stonework. The mosaiced ceilings and the laticed walls immediately relax the visitor. The arches and flowers reflect in the pools of the courtyards. Once again, Washington Irving: “The architecture, like that in most parts of the interior of the palace, is characterized by elegance, rather than grandeur, bespeaking a delicate and graceful taste, and a disposition to indolent enjoyment.” There is little to do in the gardens of the Generalife but stroll through the hedges and flower gardens.

Granada is by far one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. It is a safe observation to say that I fell into love, if not at least deep infatuation, with the city.

Granada, manola cantada
en coplas preciosas.
No tengo otra cosa que darte
que un ramo de rosas.
De rosas de suave fragancia
que le dieran marco a la virgen morena,
Granada, tu tierra está llena
de lindas mujeres,
de sangre, y de sol.

-Lyrics from Granada by Agustín Lara