Hike to Mount Fitz Roy, Argentina
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Hike to Mount Fitz Roy

One of the most blissful things about trekking is the amazing amount of energy you expand throughout the day.  For someone who loves to eat and drink, being able to eat and drink whatever I wanted and not gain a pound was something truly incredible.  Sweets, breads, nuts, cheese were on my mind and eaten with pleasure throughout the day while delightful, homemade Argentine treasures were rapidly consumed at night over a bottle of dry, smooth, aged Malbec.  Needless to say, after a long day of trekking out in the elements and an extremely satisfying and filling meal and bottle or two of wine, I instantly dozed off in a deep slumber and slept peacefully (a rare treat for me these days) throughout the night.

The next morning I awoke earlier.  Something was different.  I couldn’t figure out immediately what it was until I finally got my achy, sore body out of bed and gently pulled open the dark, thick curtains.  And there it was…the big, wonderful, glorious sunshine!  I was overjoyed to see the sun because I knew only too well what it meant.  Excellent, unobstructed views of one of the best hikes in Southern Patagonia!  If we got up, inhaled our breakfast and got on our way soon, there would be a good chance we would make it to the crème de la crème, Mount Fitz Roy and see the craggy, jagged ice-capped peak in all its glory.  Given the ever changing weather in Patagonia, seeing it or anything is not always possible.  In fact, Fabricio said that typically it is only a one in ten shot that the day will be clear when you reach the top, meaning 9 out of 10 unlucky trekkers see absolutely nothing but gray, massive clouds and fog.  That would be an enormous disappointment given how many hours it took to reach this remote place and the unlikely chance that I would ever get to see it again.  Thus, I was up and ready in a heartbeat and impatiently awaiting our guide’s arrival so we can begin our hike.

The trek to Mount Fitz Roy is not technically difficult.  It is just grueling and long, taking eight hours with a short break or two for lunch and rest.  I had done long hikes before and found that I really enjoy them.  There is something about being in it for the long haul, and challenging your body that gets you in some kind of mysterious bodily rhythm and mindset.  Trekking is kind of like running a slow marathon yet better.  Not as intense.  Not as extreme.  Yet, that same kind of exhausting, mind over matter feeling where you somehow enter a zone of deep contemplation and relaxation.  For me, hiking is the only sport that does this to me.  It brings me far, far away, into areas of my mind and body that have been long sealed up and hidden.  It represents some kind of crazy, deep release that makes me feel refreshed and whole once again.  There is something about using only your body and being in nature that brings me peace. And the longer the hike, the better.

We reached the start of the trail at half past eight and saw no one.  The air was fresh and crisp and there was not a single cloud in the brilliant deep blue sky.  I felt an energy and excitement for the day that made me feel truly alive.  I couldn’t wait to see the top and be rewarded with a supposedly gorgeous view of a postcard perfect Patagonia.   My brain was running wild with thoughts and conversation flowed freely and effortlessly.

The start of the trail:

Day 2 Hike:  8 hour exhausting hike to Mount Fitzroy:

Start of hike, beautiful weather.  We lucked out.  Not always certain you will see the peaks.  In fact, only a one in ten chance:

One of the surprising things about Patagonia is its purity.  When I was in New Zealand several years ago, I remember the big advertisement at the time was for “100% Pure New Zealand”.  I of course fell head over heels in love with the raw beauty and nature of New Zealand’s South Island yet it never felt as remote and pure to me as Patagonia.  Perhaps it was the utter ruggedness and harshness of the landscape and environment that made Patagonia seem so utterly pure.  I’m not sure if I can point a finger to exactly why I felt this why but I did.  In Patagonia, anything seemed possible.  The first time I dipped my empty water bottle into a flowing, glacial river I was extremely hesitant about its safety.  Yet my local guide encouraged me to give it a try, stating that it was the purest, freshest, most delicious water in the world.  And, it was.  I’ll never forget the incredible taste of Patagonian water directly from the source.  It was amazing and I could drink it forever.  Water in park is so pure, we used it to refill our water bottles getting drinking water directly from the streams and glacial lakes (burr…cold sticking your hand in but hugely rewarding for the effort).  Here is a picture of the rock landscape protecting the rapidly flowing glacial river with delicious drinking water abound:

As we climbed further along the empty trail, we suddenly saw a glimpse of our destination.  Here is a view of Mount Fitz Roy through the thick beech forest:

Small glacier pouring out of the mountains:

We were indeed truly lucky as the weather remained picture perfect clear.  Not a single cloud had arrived into the sky to mess things up.  What a miracle!  We knew that they last eight consecutive days on the trail had been misty and full of fog.  To hike eight hours and not see a thing would be a huge disappointment!

On the approach to the top and our much deserved picnic lunch:

Heading up through the snow:

The breathtaking approach of Mt. Fitz Roy:

View of where we started below:

At the top—wow, did we luck out on the clear sky.  Only 1 out of 10 days like this in Patagonia!  And no wind!!!! (there is a lot of wind, and there is mucho mucho mucho viento as they say here):

Wow….what a place for a picnic:

Strange patagonian clouds:

Almost home…one last look:

One of our great drinking holes:

Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION
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First Hike into the Wild

We woke up early after a wonderful, restful sleep tucked away in our rustic Patagonian “cabin”.  It was eerily quiet and still.  The morning sun was barely coming through the seams of the heavy woolen curtains.  I peered outside the small window.  It was gray and looked cold; a dramatic change from sunshine and t-shirts just a day before in Buenos Aires.  Yet I did not hear that unforgettable, forceful wind that I remembered only too well from my last trip to Patagonia.  Fortunately for us, the vicious wind was nothing to worry about here.  It was nothing like the incredibly strong gusts of wind that nearly knocks you over backwards in Punta Arenas, Chile.  There, they actually have chains along the sidewalk for those brave souls to grab on to in the event of severe, forty to fifty mile per hour wind.  So I was relieved to know that El Chalten appeared to be better protected from those glacial winds. 

We ate a quick breakfast of delicious homemade breads, fresh strawberry jam, and fruit.  I secretly wondered where the food came from and how often it arrived in town.  We had not seen a single truck on Ruta 40, the only way in to El Chalten from El Calefate.  Yet the food was surprisingly good and amazingly fresh.  How on earth it got there was a mystery to me.

Our guide, Fabricio, from Cascada Expedicionnes was meeting us at eight o’clock sharp to begin our day.  It would be a short hike, only 5-6 hours, with not too many ups and downs.  A good “get in shape” hike to test out the waters and explore the park before hitting the bigger, more difficult ones.

Fabricio arrived exactly on time and off we went.  We wore several layers of clothing since it was fairly cold and dreary out that morning.  I had learned from my last two trips to Patagonia that when it comes to the weather, anything is possible.  You can literally have four seasons in a day going from short sleeve shirts and sweltering hot to maddening, wild wind, sheets of rain coming horizontally, sleet and even a full out blizzard.  This experience of the “four seasons in one day” happened to my husband and I when we were trekking the infamous “W” trek in Torres del Paine National Park, Chile, where we got snowed in to a remote, mountain refugio. Thus, the bottom line is to be prepared and have multiple layers of waterproof and warm clothing packed in your day pack.  Otherwise you will be awfully wet, cold and miserable. 

It is also a must to have an excellent, broken in pair of hiking boots as well as sturdy set of hiking poles or “sticks” (with the Spanish accent it was always “steeks”).  The sticks are what save you when you have to pass through slick, slippery mud or snow-covered steep paths.  You not only need the poles for balance, but safety so you don’t kill yourself or your knees.

We set off with Fabricio and a husband and wife team from England, and were on our merry way.  Like my father, the English couple was in their sixties and in excellent shape.  They had traveled the world together, seeing much of it via foot.  I instantly gravitated towards them and we talked the entire time about their life together and of course their biggest adventures.  Unbeknownst to me, I learned about my next future trip from them, the incredible Annapurna Circuit Trek in Nepal.  They marveled about their experience and said it was a trip of a lifetime that I had to do.  Little did I know, that set the wheels in motion for what was indeed a trip of a lifetime and was recently completed in November of 2010.

The best thing about El Chalten is that it is so small that the trails leading to the mountains and incredible views are not a far walk from town.  Within ten to fifteen minutes, you are able to reach all the trailheads and suddenly all symbols of mankind are erased from your mind, except the infrequent hiker passing you by on the trail.    It is truly incredible.  There are no huge, annoying parking lots loaded with overflowing tourist buses.  No McDonalds.  There really isn’t much of anything except a couple hundred unpresumptuous buildings, one main road and the wild.   A perfect place, in my opinion, to get away from it all and escape.

Here are some photos along the way:

Day 1 of our first trek.  We left at 8 am directly from our hotel, walking right down the main steet in Chalten.  Chalten was formed in 1985.  It now has 2-3000 inhabitants but before then, there was nothing.  It felt like middle of nowhere probably because it was.  There was nothing there except a handful of houses, buildings and the great outdoors.

View of the town with Mt. Fitroy in back:

At the trailhead (1st hike):

Our destination, above:

Hiking instructions:

View of the town below (tiny tiny):

Despite the snow and cool air, Spring is in the air.  Blossoming shrubs dotted the snow packed trails giving one a splendid contrast of color:

Far away shot El Chalten…you can see how remote the town is.  Beyond the town, there is nothing for hours until you reach El Calafate three and a half hours later on Ruta 40:

Getting colder.  Snowed night before so all the mountains are covered:

My favorite pic…My dad and our guide—picture shows mysticism of place:

And this is Spring in Patagonia: Fresh snow on the mountains!

At the top, a cold lunch picnic (picture of my father and I):

Coming down…rugged, jagged Patagonia in all its glory:

Heading back to town (village in background):

PINCH ME….AM I REALLY HERE?

Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION
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The Tiny Outpost in the Middle of Nowhere

El Chalten is a different kind of place, an outpost in Patagonia, in the middle of nowhere.  It was established in 1985 as a trekking base for mountaineers who wished to summit the nearby, towering and difficult Cerro Torro and Mount Fitzroy.  It began slowly with only tents and today, twenty-five years later has a handful of small restaurants, hotels and shops.  The local population is about 2,000-3,000 residents depending upon the time of year.  Some people stay only during the main tourist season from October to late April, when the mountains and trails are accessible and tourists flock in.  Others remain for the whole year, living through the intense Patagonian winter and are nearly cut off from the rest of civilization until the Spring arrives in October.  It is a wild place, like no place on earth, and is a fitting location to explore the spectacular, divine Los Glaciares National park.

Here are some photos of El Chalten to stir up your imagination:

The town of El Chalten:

Our little humble hotel in Chalten.  El Puma.  It was actually quite lovely with a wood burning fireplace in the reception area and nice rooms:

The llama outside the hotel…watch out!  They spit!

Entrance to the town:

El Chalten from the mountains, in the valley below:

The one and only main drag in town:

The only grocery store:

The lone convenience store:

The road leading up to our hotel.  I couldn’t get enough of this old, crazy car:

For such a small town, I found lots of interesting photo opps:

Symbol of living in a small, remote town:  A classic!  My impatient Dad, waiting at the ONLY Atm in town, with the bank car there, yet you couldn’t get any money.  The wire connection was down.  No cash for the entire town until tomorrow.

Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION
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El Chalten: The End of the World

The flight down to El Calafate takes about five hours non-stop from Buenos Aires.  It is hard to believe that Argentina and Chile stretch for so many miles from north to south (Chile is an extremely long country covering 2,653 miles from north to south while Argentina is slightly shorter at 2,268 miles from north to south).  During the flight south you can really capture the amazing distance between the two ends of the country as the landscape and geography dramatically change from lush, green farmland and pastures to barren, wind-blown, flat pampas and jagged, snow-capped mountains and glaciers.  It is like going from one extreme to the other and the change is quite startling.

We left for Calafate early in the morning.  It was almost 30 degrees Celsius in Buenos Aires that morning and we were sweltering hot in t-shirts and pants.  As we descended into El Calafate, the landscape had dramatically changed from vibrant greens to dusty browns and the wind was so incredibly fierce that the plane bounced around like a flying rollercoaster.  Having traveled to southern Patagonia before, I was prepared this time for the hair-rising landing into windy, turbulent Patagonia.  My stomach still dropped and my palms still sweat, but I knew that this was to be expected because Patagonia is by far one of the windiest places on earth. 

The airport was located in a flat, open plain with little vegetation and little to see.  El Calafate, which is named after the calafate berry which is prominent in this part of the world, is a small, tourist-based town that does not have much to offer besides a strip of overpriced restaurants, shops and hotels.  Most tourists use it as a launching off point to visit the world-famous Perito Moreno Glacier or some of the remote, yet priceless National Parks that surround the glaciers and craggy mountains in Chilean and Argentine Patagonia.  There has been much debate over which Patagonia is better and as someone who has been to both sides, I find them both equally magnificent.  Realizing how important the spectacular landscape of Patagonia could be for the invaluable, lucrative tourism industry, both Chile and Argentina have fought for control over the land resulting in a funny, dotted and somewhat jagged line on the map splitting up Patagonia into a horizontal jigsaw puzzle from north to south.  Yet somehow it manages to work.  I learned quickly that you should never discuss this with the natives, however, as it is still a sensitive, thorny subject.

Once in the town of Calafate, we had time for a short lunch where we met a representative from our tour operator, Cascada Expedicionnes (the company I used several years before during our trek in Torres del Paine) and then headed off to the small, rundown bus station at the end of town where we would enter into the next leg of our long journey, a three and a half hour bus ride through the vast pampas and nothingness, until reaching the tiny outpost of a town, El Chalten:  One of the last frontiers before heading off into Los Glaciares National Park. 

There was only one bus a day to El Chalten, which left at 6:30 pm and arrived by 10 o’clock.  As expected, the bus station was jam packed with Gortex and backpack clad trekkers all heading to the same tiny village at the foot of the stunning, massive Mounts Fitz Roy, Cerro Torre and Puntiagudo.    

The bus was remarkably silent for being so full.  Perhaps the others were just as tired as us.  There was nothing to really see and nothing to really say so we just sat back and tried to enjoy the long, bumpy ride.  We stopped about half way along the way at the tiny one-building/hotel town of La Leona, which is the infamous hideout of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  There was absolutely nothing there except a hotel, a ranch and the tourist propaganda.   (This picture below represents THE town.  Sign indicated directions to all countries from that point). 

We boarded the bus after a fifteen minutes break and were on our way.  The sun began to set across the vast, flat pampas and the bus was completely silent for the remainder of the ride.

We arrived in El Chalen at night in the dark.  It first appeared as a glimpse from the distance.  It was black all around.  Total darkness except for the soft light coming from the bus headlights, bouncing off the barren landscape and empty pavement.  No street lights.  No cars.  Nothing.  Just darkness. 

Then there it was.  First a twinkling of light.  Then as we approached, more.  Several old fashioned lampposts lined the streets of the small mountain town, an outpost, at the end of the world.  It reminded me of some kind of Hollywood movie set for an old western film that used to run on TV in the middle of the night.  It was like no place I’d ever been; it didn’t feel real.

The bus drove down the one and only street, slowly passing rustic shops, restaurants and small, dated hotels until in no time it reached the makeshift bus station, a small, basic backpackers’ hostel.  We got off the bus, with knees aching and fatigue setting in, to find our host, Diego, smiling and welcoming us to the car.  We drove the short distance to our small, basic hotel, El Puma, and settled into our room.  But our night could not end without a much necessary bottle of deep, ruby red Malbec and a conversation with Diego about the hikes planned for the next few days.  I was looking forward to exploring this mysterious, remote land.  When I reached the room, I had no problem drifting suddenly and soundly asleep into a blissful, restful sleep.

Adventure Travel Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
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A day in Colonia del Sacramento

 

It was my second trip to Argentina and my third trip to Patagonia. For some reason, I could not get enough. Patagonia is one of the most mystical, magical places in the world. Its remoteness (Patagonia is one of the most remote places on earth and literally at the end of the world), rugged beauty and wild extremes in climate make it like no other place on earth. Perhaps that is why so many others, like me, have fallen in love with the place. There is something otherworldly about it.
My obsession with Patagonia began eight years ago when my husband and I spent ten amazing days trekking and exploring Chile’s national jewel, Torres del Paine National Park. It was a trip of a lifetime that changed my mindset and made me decide that I wanted to travel by foot as much as possible. I realized during that trip that there is truly something unique about going to the middle of nowhere, where there are no phones, no cars, no airplanes, no noise—only silence and nature. It was the first place that I ever truly felt like I was able to escape and relax, as if nothing else mattered in life except the rising and setting of the sun and the song of the birds. The landscape was so wild, so extreme and so above one’s imagination, that it felt like I was on another planet. The splendor and hardship of hiking several hours a day in sometimes extreme weather conditions made me feel at one with nature and with my own inner being. It was almost a spiritual journey. So perhaps that is why I’ve become so obsessed with Patagonia and always want to go back.
November of 2009 was my second trip to Patagonia with my father. The first trip we visited the vibrant, multicultural Buenos Aires and then headed to the Patagonian Lakes District, San Carlos de Bariloche. The trip was wonderful and the beauty was supreme. However, Bariloche was not the wild, intense, extreme Patagonia that I experienced in Chile’s Torres del Paine and I ended up being slightly disappointed. Thus, we had to go back and we had to go further south, deep into the real Patagonia.
This time, after much research, we opted to spend a few days in Buenos Aires (since it is such a fantastic city), do a day trip to Colonia del Sacremento in neighboring Uruguay, and then take two more flights south to the almost the end of the road: El Calafate, the heart of Argentina’s Patagonia.
The flight to Buenos Aires from the States is not bad. American Airlines flys non-stop from Atlanta and the flight was a little over ten hours. One of the pleasures of flying south as opposed to east or west is that there is little change in time. Thus that dreadful jetlag is almost completely avoided, which is a huge bonus in my mind. I find jetlag to be very difficult so I was happy that this time we would hardly feel a thing. Only a two hour time change for me.
We landed in Buenos Aires the next morning, feeling ready to go. I remember seeing the verdant green pastures and fields of Argentina, calling my name, from far below. It was approaching winter in Minnesota and everything at home was brown, bare, and dead. The brilliant green rolling hills below were like a magical shock to my eyes. My heart beat faster as we made our final descent. I couldn’t wait to get on the ground, feel the warm, gentle breeze on my skin and not be bogged down with a heavy winter coat and cap.
The airport was exactly how I had remembered: Big, busy and chaotic. Yet this time I was prepared and the endless swarm of people holding up white signs and placards in the Arrivals Lounge did not overwhelm me. Of course it took over twenty five minutes to find the one man holding the sign that said our name, but we found it. We had our driver and were on our way to our lovely hotel in Palermo Soho, a trendy, newly gentrified neighborhood on the northwestern side of Buenos Aires.
Driving in Buenos Aires takes some series guts. Cars speed in and out of lanes without a skip of a beat and sometimes three lanes of traffic suddenly become five. You feel like you are going to get in a major accident almost every second of the ride and horns are used constantly. When we asked our driver how he does it, he said it takes a good pair of “white knuckles”.
Palermo Soho is a wonderful neighborhood full of hip, boutique hotels, restaurants, designer shops and bars. The streets are tree-lined and full of outdoor cafes and bars. It is a young, urban neighborhood that is so full of energy and excitement that it is impossible not to feel alive. You can find anything you want to eat, whether it be a traditional Argentine Parrilla (grill), café food, or any kind of multicultural food possible. It was the perfect place to unwind after a long day of sightseeing and enjoy an outrageously delightful dinner and bottle of Malbec at a good price.
Since it was our second time in Buenos Aires, we decided to do something different. I had heard a lot of talk about neighboring Uruguay, the second smallest country in South America that has its own unique culture and is a rather unknown hidden treasure to most tourists. Argentina and Uruguay are divided by the brackish Rio de la Plata, and daily ferries, buses and flights are available between Buenos Aires and the three main Uruguayan tourist destinations: Colonia del Sacramento, Montevideo and Punte del Este. We decided to take the morning speed ferry to the tiny gem of Colonia del Sacramento, a UNESCO World Heritage site.
The ride was short but sweet, lasting only forty-five minutes from port to port. The only downside of the trip was that we had to go through customs on each side. But other than that, it was a pretty easy way to visit another country in only a day. Being so close, you would think that Uruguay and Argentina would be exactly the same but there were not. Despite a shared language, a land of gauchos, and a love of football, Argentina and Uruguay are quite different. Although I only had a few hours there to explore, I found Uruguay to be a very intimate, peaceful, easy-going place. There was almost something lackadaisical about it, and it felt like it was set back in time. Here are some of my favorite pictures from my short stay:

Beautiful tree-lined cobblestone street:

For some reason, I just couldn’t get enough of all the old cars. Especially the broken down ones that probably have been here forever.


View down cobblestone street of the river separating Buenos Aires and Colonia:


Pastel painted buildings and colonial architecture:


Plenty of beautiful outdoor cafes. Yes the Uruguanian wine is delicious too.

Another picture of café life. Quiet, relaxing and excellent ambiance. Felt like you were in a long-forgotten world from the past. Very removed from the rapid pace of Buenos Aires. Quite a lovely place.

Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION Uruguay
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The Handprints

One of the first things I noticed when I walked into the CCS Home Base in Cartago was the handprints. They were everywhere. Coated across every wall in every room (including the bathrooms!) and covering every single empty space, making them hard to miss and hard to resist.

Every single volunteer that comes through CCS Cartago’s door is invited to paint their handprint, artwork and a quote on the walls of the inside of the home base before they leave. The handprints represent the mark they made in Cartago and I found it truly inspirational to read them. Not an ounce of wall was free from art, quotes, poetry, songs, handprints and names of past volunteers. I could not believe my eyes and would spend any free moments I had during the week reading the walls and reflecting on what each volunteer had said. I also had to think about what I would want to say before I left and where in the heck I would put it since the free space was very limited.

Reflecting back, of course I was very skeptical about the impact I’d have on others in only a week’s time. However, by the end of my week volunteering I was pleasantly surprised to see that all my doubts were proven wrong. I knew I had made a difference in the smiles and hugs I received by not only the friendships I made at the Hogar Jesus de los Manus Nursing Home and Dona Melba’s foster children, but also in the cultural exchange and friendship I shared with the staff at all places including the CCS Home Base (Santi, Jose, Lucy, the cooks and the security guards) and the volunteers as well. However, by far the most surprising thing of all, was that I realized that I received a gift as well. The gift of an overwhelming sense of satisfaction, contentment and joy by the power of giving back. That is a gift that will forever change me and continue me on my path to somehow, if even small, make a difference in this world.

I thought about the quotes and what my week long volunteer stint had meant to me. It meant many different things. Beautiful, compassionate things about how one can truly make a difference, even if it is small, by just giving someone in need a smile or a shoulder to cry on. The fulfillment and joy received by helping people who can’t help themselves due to poverty, abandonment, disability, drug or alcohol abuse or simply old age. In our busy lives back at home in the States, yes of course we have problems, yet it is easy to loose sight of the bigger picture in the world and all those people who are suffering and could use our help. That is what my week volunteering in Costa Rica taught me. That anything is possible and that anything can help. I feel I can no longer travel without giving back, whether it be volunteering, making a new friend abroad or raising money at home to donate to a local NGO in the country I’m visiting. This is my new mantra and raison d’être. I can no longer be just someone passing through. When a place shares their country and all its wonders with me, I am obligated to give back something in return. That is the promise I made myself after Costa Rica. Now it’s time to start fulfilling my dreams!

Here are some of my favorite quotes that touched me deeply:




Handprints at the front entrance:

Handprints leading into my bunk room:

This is a photo of Cassiano and Lindsey, two fellow volunteers, painting their quotes on our last night in Cartago:

Their quotes:

Here is my quote:

Here is a picture of the entire volunteer group in Cartago:

More pictures of the volunteers:


CARPE DIEM!

P.S. For those who are wondering….where is she off to next? I am heading out April 15th to Rabat, Morocco to complete another international volunteer program with Cross-Cultural Solutions. I will be working with Moroccans and African Refuges on learning English. Stay tuned!

Central America Costa Rica SOCIAL GOOD TRAVEL BY REGION Volunteering Abroad
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Holy Week on Speed

When I booked my volunteer trip to Costa Rica I picked the week that coincided with my children’s school Spring breaks. I would be coming home the day before Easter and that would be give us enough time to have a nice meal Easter Sunday and hid some eggs for the kids. I had no idea that the week before Easter, Holy Week, was one of the most important weeks in the Costa Rica, amass with celebrations, parades, religious processions, fireworks, theater and plays, all in the name of Jesus. Thus you can imagine my surprise and delight that first day I spent in San Jose, Palm Sunday, to see the true meaning of Holy Week on Speed! (Sorry if I offend the more religious types).

The entire week was full of celebrations. As I mentioned in an earlier post (“Fireworks at Noon”) fireworks and processions were huge, day and night. Santi and Jose told us that there would be events occurring every eventing in Cartago and San Rafael and they were indeed correct. A couple of nights we heard the approaching beat of a marching band and were delighted to see a candlelight processional right through town. We also went to a gorgeous candlelight quartet in the Cultural Center and viewed the masses of pilgrims coming to the infamous Basilica daily. It was quite an experience!

Towards the end of the week, San Rafael (the more religious part of town) set up and staged an entire reenactment of The Last Supper. It was held at 8 pm after the sun had set and all light up by candles and torches. Practically the entire town was there with children in tow, watching in awe. The play lasted over two hours and of course I couldn’t understand a word (it was all verses from the Bible in Spanish—a double whammy for me) except the Spanish “Jesus” over and over again. The grand slam of the week was supposed to be the reenactment of the Crucifixion. But I was going to be on my plane ride home to the States so I would unfortunately miss it. Here is a photo of the setting up of the stage:

What the most ironic thing of all about Holy Week was the ban on alcohol. I thought Minnesota’s laws were strict such as no alcohol sold on Sundays and no alcohol sold in grocery stores (not even wine!) but I was completely thrown off guard when I discovered how strict the Costa Rican’s view alcohol (even wine and beer) during Holy Week. All alcohol sold in restaurants, bars, and stores is completely banned from the Thursday before Easter until noon on Easter Sunday! I had never heard of such a strict enforcement anywhere (except of course the Middle Eastern countries which I haven’t had the opportunity to visit yet). The most ironic thing of all is that we were not allowed as volunteers to drink even a glass of wine throughout our week in Cartago, given it is a very religious town and it would not look good having the volunteers partying in front of the locals). However, once we hit Friday night we were free to do as we wished since the program was over. We searched and searched for a place, even a simple restaurant, where we could order a beer or just a single glass of wine and were refused everywhere. Not one single place in or out of town could serve even one glass. It was strictly enforced everywhere. It would have to wait until the plane ride home to the States!

Despite the alcohol ban, we of course still found other ways to celebrate. Friday afternoon, after our volunteer work was completed, Cassiano, Lindsey and I hired a driver to take us to the nearby Tapanti Rainforest. It was only supposedly only an hour or so away but wound up taking a lot longer due to the road conditions near the park (i.e. mostly gravel). But we didn’t mind, we were on an adventure and excited to see the flora and fauna that Costa Rica is world-renowned for.

Our drive took us to a beautiful lookout area above Cartago city. Here is a picture of the city laying within the lush, verdant valley:

As we headed towards the park, we passed through a small, lovely village called Orosi. It is about a forty minute drive from Cartago and home to Lucy, the CCS Office Manager. We stopped in Orosi to visit the beautiful, main church which was of course preparing for the upcoming Holy Week Festivities. Here are some pictures of lovely Orosi:
The town square (note the homes going up the hillside):

The main church:

The stage for the upcoming reenactments and plays for Holy Week:

After our visit to Orosi, we got back in the bumpy cab ride with our driver who didn’t speak a lick of English and continued along towards Tapanti National Park. We passed coffee trees going along the way and saw farmers harvesting the beans. Here is a picture of the coffee trees growing right along the road:

We kept thinking we were getting near the park but it was taking forever. We asked the driver how much further in our broken Spanish and he continued to say not much longer. To our dismay, it was getting close to three o’clock which was much later than we had expected. The paved road mysteriously ended and signs of civilization disappeared. The sun was lower in the sky and we were getting worried until we finally saw a sign for the park. We continued on a gravel, bumpy road for almost an hour, my stomach churning due to the motion, and then we finally saw it: Tapanti National Park. Relieved, we got out of the car to pay our entrance fee to the park and saw that the office was closed! The signs at the park said open until 4 pm. It was 4:05. After three and a half hours riding in a hired taxi cab, we were going to get in, somehow. Luckily, Lindsey knew some Spanish and with the help of our driver was able to convince the guard to reopen the park just for us. One hour, we promised, and the gates were opened.

Tapanti was indeed everything a rainforest should be, except the hidden monkeys (which we heard in the distance but did not see). It was lush, wet, and full of life. We walked around for our allotted time, snapped some pictures and enjoyed the silliness of our adventurous day. It was of course raining so we didn’t get much in the way of pictures but here are a few to give you an idea of the misty, secluded rainforest:


A giant mushroom:

The misty view of a hidden waterfall:

A rambling brook:

And finally, the gravel road leading out of the park at dusk:

We were back in the taxi by 5 PM and were not looking forward to our long drive back. Our adventure ended up costing us about $150 but was well worth the trip. We dreamed of having an ice cold beer that night but to our chagrin, the entire country was in an alcohol lockdown. It would have to wait until the plane!

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The House of Children

Volunteers were not needed Friday morning at the nursing home so instead Cross-Cultural Solutions (CCS) arranged another volunteer opportunity for the day. CCS works with a variety of different non-profits in Cartago and places their volunteers on an as-needed basis. When you sign up on a CCS volunteer program, you do not find out exactly what your assignment will be until two to three weeks before departure. You have an idea of what it may entail. Normally CCS volunteers work in nursing homes, hospitals, orphanages, centers for disabled children or adults, or teaching English. Thus, when you sign up to volunteer you know it will be one of the above programs. The in-country home base typically evaluates the needs in the community and at each agency to see what the best fit is for the available volunteers. For our week-long program, the nursing home was the best match for the given amount of time and number of volunteers. However, Friday we were not needed thus Santi and Jose found another, exciting opportunity for us: Taking the 35 foster children of Dona Melba’s foster home to the park.

Dona Melba and her husband were well-known throughout Cartago as a wonderful, caring couple who had established a foster home for unwanted, abandoned and abused children over 25 years ago. Their family began slowly, taking in a few children here and there who needed homes and over time grew into a large, close-knit family of adopted and foster children all under one roof.

We had received an update from another volunteer named Julia who was an early high school graduate from St. Louis, Missouri spending three months in Cartago volunteering with Dona Melba’s children. It was a chaotic household with children of all ages and varying degrees of emotional and mental stability living in a small house and being cared for by only Dona Melba and her husband. Occasionally, they would receive local volunteers and ones from other international organizations but most of the time they and their 35 children were on their own. You can imagine the work involved in caring for such a large household. Laundry was done all day long in a large room with piles of washed and folder clothing assorted by age (this was the easiest way for children to find clothing. No one had their own clothing. Everything was shared). Cleaning and work around the house was taken care of by the older children in the family. Cooking was also a shared job by the older children which took hours.

Having two young children of my own, I couldn’t even fathom how much work 35 kids would be! I asked Julia tons of questions on our ride to the home. Over the last three months working with the children, she had become extremely attached and was very concerned about leaving them soon. She knew the ins and outs of each child and told us some of the most devastating, tragic stories of their young lives before they were saved by Dona Melba.

One boy, Alain, had an alcoholic mother who never fed him as an infant and abandoned him barely alive at Dona Melba’s doorstep. There was not even a note. Obviously, he was in poor health and was seriously malnourished which had lead to brain damage. At age eleven, he cannot talk, cannot eat unassisted and struggles with his motor skills such as walking and catching a ball. I spent some time hanging out with him at the park and he was a lovely child who was fascinated by tearing off weeds and throwing them into the creek and watching them float away. He would smile, frantically jump up and down and grunt in pleasure. It was heartbreaking but at least I knew he was loved and cared for with Dona Melba.

Another girl was named Anita who had also been abandoned in a terrible state. Dona Melba found her completely battered up. In a rage, her parents beat her up at two years of age and hurt her so badly that they broke both of her legs. She was rescued by Dona Melba and would not speak or smile for years. A year ago, a CCS volunteer from New York worked with Anita and felt compelled to do something about her terrible situation. Fortunately, her father had connections with a surgeon in NYC and they were able to raise enough money to fly Anita and Dona Melba to New York for surgery that enabled her to finally walk! Although she isn’t perfect on her feet, at least this special little six year old girl can finally get off her hands and knees crawling and walk and play like the others! It was quite a story and brought tears to my eyes.

Then there was Cesar, another disabled child, who was in his teens but was mentally about the age of four or five. He loved playing ball with the volunteers and loved the special attention. To think that this child was abandoned and mistreated just because he wasn’t perfect made me sick. It made me realize that we are all humans.

The morning at the park was delightful. We played ball, chased balloons, ran after the children and enjoyed their imagination and laughter. It was a special day. In light of the horrendous stories and tragic backgrounds, these children had hope. The love and care that they received from Dona Melba, her husband and the endless amount of volunteers flowing in, lead me to believe in the resilience and hope of the human spirit.

Here are some pictures from our visit to the park. In order to provide protection for the kids, I will not include any of their names. The beautiful, serene park:

The beautiful children from the foster home:



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Life and Death in a Costa Rican Nursing Home

We spent our last day at Hogar Jesus de los Manos preparing for a big celebration. It was one of the resident’s ninetieth birthdays and as with all birthdays at the nursing home, it was celebrated with a grand ole party for all. A large sheet cake was ordered, balloons and decorations were put up, and music was played. Every able resident (save the ones who were bedridden or on their final days) was to attend and excitement was in the air the morning we arrived for our last day of volunteer work.

As we were preparing for the party we heard the sirens approaching. My heart sank. I knew only too well what that could mean. One of the gravely ill residents, Franco, had passed away. I knew it could happen. We were at a nursing home. Yet for some reason it caught me off guard. We were having so much fun with the residents that death seemed miles away even though many of the residents didn’t have much time left on this earth.

The day before Eduardo had us visit Franco, hold his hand and say our farewells. He was dying of cancer and the nurses ensured us that he wasn’t in pain. Yet there was something lost and far away in his eyes that made me deeply sad. His skin was pale and he was extremely frail. I searched his eyes for something but they were staring blankly into space. I grasped his limp hand, held it tightly and said goodbye. I have not idea if he felt anything yet I hope it at least gave him a little peace before he left. A priest was called to give Franco his last rites and floral arrangements were ordered for the chapel. There would be a funeral the next day, in the afternoon, after the birthday party and after we left.

The death put a more serious tone to the day yet the party was still to go on. While we were decorating the main foyer workers were simultaneously decorating the chapel for the afternoon funeral. The irony between life and death was uncomfortably present yet quietly accepted.

Throughout the day I reflected on how amazing it was that we were able to so quickly make wonderful bounds with the residents. I had initially thought a nursing home placement would be very depressing but I was completely surprised. The residents were very peaceful and were cared for by a very loving, caring staff. Each resident was treated with utter respect and dignity and love.

On the last day, we were able to take some photos of our new friends and I took the opportunity to get some of my favorite residents.
Here I am with Javier, one of my favorites.  He would go on and on about how he had traveled the world and was half American, speaking fiercely in Spanish and English.  His stories were always the same and he obviously forgot half the time that he just told you the same thing two mintues ago.  He was full of fire and life and truly made me laugh.  He grew a fondness of me and preferred to have me wheel him into the dining hall or entertain him.  He always wore his cap and would fold up his artwork (colored pages from a children’s coloring book) and hide them under his hat.  He also loved to keep a small ball under his cap as well.  He was one of the funniest residents I’d met:

Here is a picture of Javier alone.  His expression truly portrays his sarcastic, full-of-life attitude:


Here is a picture of our only male volunteer, Cassiano with one of the ladies, Carmen. I did a red manicure on her nails and she loved it.  She was very sweet and extremely quiet.   She also enjoyed coloring and doing crafts.

Elena with Lillian, one of the sweetest, cutiest grannies there. She married one of the residents and they always walk hand and hand, and smile. Love can happen anytime!
Me with the “primero el mundo” , the best boxer in his days in costa rica. He always loved to do his punches and he smiled a ton:

Me with Miguel, or Mike, as he liked to be called. He loves to dance thus when we put on the Latin music he would hold our hands and we would rock to the beat. He also spoke a little English.

The birthday celebration began mid-morning and it was quite an effort getting all 32 residents moved into the hall. It was nice that we were there to help the small staff as over half the residents are in wheelchairs while the ones that could walk needed assistance. The cake was cut and served and gobbled up much faster than lunch. Then the music began. Thanks to our earlier Latin Dance classes, we were able to strike up a beat with the residents. Costa Ricans LOVE to dance, regardless of age, ability or disability. We danced with the able-bodied men and women and even danced with people in wheelchairs. If the men were not able to dance, they loved to watch us dance as they still embraced the machismo culture despite their age. Men are men, young or old.
The residents smiles of joy were contagious and we had a ball. Here are some photos:
The residents loved to dance or watch us dance (if they were in a wheelchair). Me dancing with “La Cubana”, the cuban woman who loves to dance and still has her groove.
Here is a picture of some of the residents who sat around in a big circle, listening to the music and watching the dancing.  Note La Princessa, in pink. She is in her 90s and always wears make-up and was once very beautiful in her days.
We also sang La Bamba in Spanish to them and they loved it. Overall, the party was a big success and brought a little bit of sunshine to Hogar Jesus de los Manos.  Leaving was the hardest part.  We had grown attached in such a short time and felt like we truly made a difference.   After we said our goodbyes, I could hear Javier’s voice in the distance calling my name to come back.  Slowly his voice faded away until you could not longer here a sound except the rapid beating of my heart.

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A Visit to the Countryside

The main reason why I chose Cross-Cultural Solutions (CCS) for my volunteer trip was its unique three-prong approach to volunteer service: Volunteer work, Cultural Exchange and Cultural Learning. I liked the idea that we would not only be doing volunteer work but also focusing on cultural exchange with the locals, residents and staff, and experiencing an assortment of cultural learning activities such as Latin Dance class, Tortilla cooking class, Spanish language classes, Costa Rica history and political class, Cartago city tour and tour of the countryside. This approach was fantastic because it enabled you to truly learn about the culture. The only downside was that it was extremely intense. Not a moment was free. Yet I felt like I had learned and experienced true cultural immersion in a very short amount of time. In fact, that week spent in Costa Rica felt like my entire summer spent doing an internship in southern France during college. In one week, I learned an incredible amount, much more than I learn traveling on my own for pleasure. It was similar to taking a college course. Amazing.

One evening we had a Latin Dance class at the CCS Home Base taught by a local Tico young man. Teaching in front of seven female volunteers, he truly enjoyed the attention he was receiving since he had quite an athletic build equipped with his own six pack and arms of steel. Apparently he was quite the ladies man in town and you could tell he just loved showing us American ladies salsa, tango, mambo, samba and meringue. Latin Dancing is something else. It takes guts and sex appeal to get your pelvis moving in such rhythmic beats, that’s for sure, and it actually is quite difficult. I had taken dance lessons as a child for many years yet there was no way I could master the crazy hip thrusts and multitude of turns required. We looked ridiculous and worked up a serious sweat after an hour lesson. But it was great fun.

We also did a short Costa Rican cooking class where we learned how to prepare fresh corn tortilla and the local drink agua dulce (sweet water) which is made from fresh sugar cane juice boiled in water. It was quite sweet (probably an acquired taste) yet of course worth a try. Ticos also use the sugar cane to make liquors. 

Here is a picture of Lindsey, one of the volunteers, preparing the mixture for homemade tortillas:Here is Santi showing us the sugar cane mold used to make agua dulce:

I truly wished my Spanish was better because I would have loved to take home some of the recipes for the food we ate at the home base. However, most fruits and vegetables used in the recipes would have been hard to find fresh in the States. I enjoyed the mouth watering, overly ripe papaya beyond belief and and also truly loved having fresh pineapple and guava jelly on my toast each morning. Nothing was prepackaged. No preservatives. Everything was made that day and incredibly fresh. I wish there was some way I could spend hours in the kitchen each day to enjoy such natural, fresh food. It was paradise.

A highlight of our trip was our visit to the countryside and nearby Izaru Volcano. It amazed me that the city and the country were so close. Within fifteen minutes we left Cartago proper and were surrounded by lush, verdant green rolling hills complete with life. There were all sorts of vegetable farms and coffee farms along the way and it was incredibly beautiful. The countryside was so serene and so peaceful that it was hard to image you were so close to the city.

View of the Costa Rican countryside with Cartago in the distance:

As we approached the volcano, the land became hilly and lush. You could see the farmers and laborers waiting alongside the road for their drive back to town and roadside sales of fresh produce that looked extremely enticing. What a life to eat such fresh, natural food! In the States, everything is so processed and it is difficult to get such fresh vegetables and fruit out of the summer season. It was a real treat.

We reached the Izaru Volcano in a carpet of thick, gray fog. I was so disappointed because the view of Cartago Valley was supposedly fantastic. Instead, we saw nothing except a nearby ocelot and the gorgeous flora and fauna blanketed in fog.

Lost in the fog (where’s the view?):
Picture of the beautiful vegetation. The big round plant is known as the “poor man’s umbrella”…ha ha.

After our visit to the foggy volcano, we headed back to Cartogo with a stop at the infamous, legendary HAUNTED HOUSE. Per Santi, legend has it that the “Haunted” House was once a hospital for Tuberculosis patients back in 1914, then was turned into a prison later on. After the volcano erupted in 1963 the place was abandoned and has become a major tourist attraction ever since because locals believe it is haunted. We tried to go in it but it was closed due to a movie being filmed. The house reminded me of The Shining….It was very spooky looking, and the fog made it even more frightening.
Photo of the so-called Haunted House:

Santi also pointed out then the infamous Reina de la Noche, or Queen of the Night. Here is a picture of the sacred flowering plant below:
Supposedly it is an illegal drug that is smoked and gives hallucinations and quite an intense high. Obviously it isn’t very regulated. It grows freely along the country roads.

After the countryside, we headed back to Cartago and visited the enormous central market where you could buy all the wonderfully, fresh produce from the outskirts of town. Here are some pictures of the incredibly fresh and delightful market:

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A Burst of Color and Life

I woke up as usual to the song of the birds and wonderful, fragrant smells flowing down the long corridor from the kitchen. It was six o’clock on the nose and time to start day 3 at the nursing home. I was looking forward to it as I truly felt like we’d made a lot of progress in the last two days. Doors were open to friendships and smiles were freely exchanged. I realized that it was a humbling experience working with the elderly. In our country, there really is no respect for them. Nothing like there should be at least, in my humble opinion. In Costa Rica, the grandparents were sacred and highly respected. That is why the reason behind Jesus de los Manos was so tragic; the most scared part of Tico life is family and here these grandmothers and grandfathers were discarded and forgotten, like a child’s old toy. Yet the resilience and desire to live (pura vida mentality) kept these abandoned abuelas and abuelos alive and well, even happy. It was a beautiful thing.

When we arrived, there they were, as expected, lined up outside on the terraces to greet us. It was another perfect day with highs in the low seventies and a crisp, fresh breeze descending off the mountain into the Central Valley. Today we were going to work on more beautification of the grounds and of course entertain the residents. We started by gathering the old, rusty paint cans out of the shed. On our short walk to the shed, Eduardo pointed out the gorgeous mural that was painted the week before by a group of High School students volunteering for the week with CCS. It was extremely impressive and the residents loved it. Here is a picture of the completed in a week, piece of art:

We grabbed the scarlet red paint cans, a couple brushes and some plastic tarp to lay down on the pavement and began painting. We were painting the old, worn out garbage cans (YES garbage cans) from a dirty green to a brilliant red as Eduardo had asked. Why? For two reasons: First, so they would stand out and the residents could easily locate the garbage cans. Second, and most important, to make them look prettier. Eduardo was big into spicing up the nursing home and landscape in order to make it a nicer place to live. These people enjoyed the Pura Vida so anything to make their final years better was done.

After the cans were painted, we headed on inside to the large, rectangular recreation room where long tables and chairs were set up and our friends were awaiting. We were going to do coloring, card games and more handicrafts for the rest of the morning. It was ironic doing some of the same games and activities with the elderly as I do at home with my children. It reminded me of the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button in a sense. The circle of life and how we all end up reverting to our infant years when we age and are no longer able to dress ourselves, feed ourselves or even color unassisted. I was expecting this realization to be sad but for some reason it was not. It was hopeful in a way to see how peaceful and happy you could be in your final years. Not the depressing, worrisome slow death that most people fear.

Each volunteer was quickly developing their unique friendships and attachments with certain residents. It was funny how that happened. There were preferences given to what volunteer would entertain them or which one would wheel them into the dining room. Each resident was so incredibly unique and had their quirks and their stories.

I had grown attached to a couple. Javier, the crazy, spit and fire Costa Rican man who claimed he had traveled the world and was half American, became one of my favorites. I also enjoyed spending time talking with a man named Juan Pablo whose English was excellent. Then their was the “best boxer in the world”, or “primero el mundo” as he would like to say. There was also Lilly who was a real sweetheart and actually recently married another resident the past month. The couple always sat side by side and they were the only residents to have a communal bed. Finally there was la Princessa who was simply lovely and Carmen who loved having her nails done. There were not just nameless souls. They were amazing, loving people with an entire history and life to share with those who listened and those for cared.

Here are a few pictures:
This picture shows the work involved in getting all the residents to the dining room and fed for meals. Since over half of them are in wheelchairs, it required at least ten to fifteen minutes getting everyone out of their rooms and moved into the dining room. When the volunteers aren’t there to help, it takes up to a half an hour to bring them to the dining room and back after the meal. Each resident also has their preferred seating (kind of like an assigned place that they assigned themselves). We quickly learned where each person went and who they sat next to. There were also about seven residents who needed to be fed and could not eat on their own. Thus, we hand fed these people just like I had fed my children as infants. It was a touching experience. You could see the appreciation in their eyes. It was very humbling.

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Nightlife in a Sleepy, Catholic Town

As I mentioned in earlier posts, leaving the CCS Home Base at night was not recommended unless in a group or with a male companion. There was no going out to get a drink, no going to the club, just staying back at the Home Base eating a huge meal and hanging out with the group or reading. A big part of traveling for me includes the night life. I love to go out and have fun however I had to respect the circumstances of our volunteer commitment. Since there were no tourists in Cartago, we really stood out and going to the bars (if there were any) in a Catholic town would have looked really bad. I was to learn later just how strict the drinking policy was.

When Santi mentioned an evening outing a few of us practically jumped out of our seats with the opportunity to get out at night. Santi heard that the local Cartago Cultural and Music center was having a free performance in honor of Holy Week for whoever wanted to attend. I could hardly wait to check things out and have an escape.

We left after dinner and it was a perfect evening out. Fresh, light breeze and wonderful. The walk to the Cultural Center took about fifteen minutes heading down windy streets and passing through the center of town. There was not a whole lot going on. People were out and about, doing their business, yet I couldn’t see much in the way of nightlife.

The Cultural Center is a beautiful, traditional Costa Rican building set in the center of town with a gorgeous indoor courtyard full of fragrant flowers, plants and best of all, an opening up to the sky. The Cultural Center offers art and music courses to the people of Cartago at no charge thus you can see artists in residence painting and showing their art and music performances. That evening, we were attending a free musical performance by some of the students in honor of Holy Week. To my surprise, the lights were turned off and the entire piece of music was played by candlelight. It was a quartet of strings and absolutely magical. All the music played was catholic and had to do with Holy Week. There were slides played against the wall that complemented the music. It was very peaceful and put one in the spirit of the importance of the week, even for those who are not that religious.
Here is a picture of the lovely traditional courtyard of the Cultural Center:
After the performance, we walked back to the CCS Home Base and entered a nearby church that was just cleaning up after an evening service. Here are some photos of the outside and inside of the church:


Then, of course, we hit the grand-daddy of all churches, the Basilica light up at night and it was spectacular. Here are some photos:



It was a fantastic evening out and my eyes closed immediately once I hit my bottom bunk. I couldn’t wait for Day 3 at the nursing home. I knew that my friends would be lined up early, on the terrace, anxiously awaiting our arrival with delight.

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