Costa Rica
Yesterday's mud-floods left behind, the route was set for Costa Rica. It was a slow and uneventful border crossing into a magical land where almost everybody speaks English, all price tags are in US dollars, and being Israeli brings those prices down: The first hostel we saw in Monteverde was covered with a collage of handwritten recommendations in Hebrew. I asked the man at the desk, how much do the rooms cost.
-Eight dollars.
-Hmmm. The writing on the wall says different…
-Oh, five. I meant five.
The wall said nothing about the price.
Walking the narrow trails of the reserve and taking macro shots of beetles, caterpillars, and the occasional tarantula hawk wasp paralyzing its next prey so her larva will have something to eat after it hatches in the victim's chest, I am here, but not here. My mind is elsewhere. Even as turquoise hummingbirds swirl around me, attracted to my bright red raincoat, fluttering with their wings so annoyingly fast it's impossible to take a picture, my mind is bursting with preparations for the next leg of the trip - Africa.
-Eight dollars.
-Hmmm. The writing on the wall says different…
-Oh, five. I meant five.
The wall said nothing about the price.
Walking the narrow trails of the reserve and taking macro shots of beetles, caterpillars, and the occasional tarantula hawk wasp paralyzing its next prey so her larva will have something to eat after it hatches in the victim's chest, I am here, but not here. My mind is elsewhere. Even as turquoise hummingbirds swirl around me, attracted to my bright red raincoat, fluttering with their wings so annoyingly fast it's impossible to take a picture, my mind is bursting with preparations for the next leg of the trip - Africa.