Drama, Tragedia y Comedia

Everyone wakes up on the wrong side of the bed... but all three of us?

Have you ever had one of those days when the universe tests your ability to bounce back. Or perhaps you´ve witnessed this happening to a new friend and it tells you a lot about their degree of sanity during a time of crisis?

Steve rented the big-boy-motorcross bike, Dale the 4-wheeler, and, Lorraine and I left a half hour later on the two seater, two speed moped ($25 per vehicle for a half day rental).

Let me cut to the chase. This is a trilogy-tragedy-comedy.
Dale equals involuntary projectile as he is thrown from the quadropod whipping around a bend during an ascent trying to keep up with Steve. Dale has never driven a motorcyle and certainly didn`t know the limits of a quadropod. Lorraine and I came around the bend to find them on the edge of the road searching in the woods for the missing pieces of the crashed 4-wheeler! Dale´s ankle is swollen and he´s limping around shaking his head in shock and disbelief. This scene sifts out to Dale and Steve returning to the motorcycle shoppe. Dale spends the afternoon drinking Balboas with his leg propped up on ice, on a pillow atop the coffee table of the hotel balcony (nice view of the Parque Central).
The serene and isolated Playa de Dragos, where Lorraine and I set out for, is located on the far side of the island. We had a grand afternoon riding thru the tropical (and only) road that cuts thru the center of the island. The sound of the cicadas superceded the engine of the moped! At first we thought it was a chain saw. One of those walk on water, upright "Jesus Christ lizards" (as they are called here) dashed across the road. Skinny, rib baring cows grazed in the hills. Three children were returning from school on horseback. No insects in this heat. The Dragos beach was essentially vacant. We saw perhaps five others. The water was hot! Not luke warm. Hot.
Relaxing, in our semi-private beach setting, Steve shows up and raccounts the "return of the damaged goods" story to us. We continue our swim and chat time. Chatting in the water I comment to Steve and Lorraine how nice it would be if camera accessory manufacturers supplied waterproof camera bags, which would be especially nice in these tropical, rain everyday regions of the world. Exiting the water we reach for our bags on the rock-lined embankment. I notice my camera isn´t visible as I scan the rocks and look inside my pack. Caramba!, it´s floating in the ocean, having slipped and rolled down the rocks through a small opening below a log. It was too crazy. Taking a deep breath, I retrieved the bag from the water and exited the camera. The water poured out of it. I could have laughed, I could have cried. I decided to laugh. It was purely rediculous how much water I continued to shake out of this mini apparatus. Sea water and electronic equipment are not compatible. The warranty or my insurance "should" cover this. I will have to mail it home if I cannot find a Sony repair shoppe in San Jose, Costa Rica.
Let it go. There´s nothing I can do to change what has happened. My travel companions have since placed their cameras in zip locking bags. If you are taking travel notes, please highlight that one! You´ll never get to see me in that gray speedo posing on the coconut tree that overhangs the water. Oh well... there´s a reason for everything (wink).
If you`re countaing, that makes two for two. --"What else could go wrong today?" We joked about things happening in threes.

Parting from Plays de Dragos, Steve returns to hotel to check on Dale.

Lorraine and I decide to check out las cuevas, La Gruta (the caves). Steve assured us they were worth seeing, but not a big deal for a return visit. A slight, weathered woman appears at the gate to collect a conservation dollar from each of us. She goes back to fetch a couple of linternas (flashlights) then accompanies us down the narrow cement walkway to the cave entrance. We walk into the jungle and melodic birds are cheering us on. A small amphi-theatre style chapel overlooks the cave entrance. A sculpted figurine matron is on bended knee looking up to the Virgen Mary sculpture placed way up in a natural crevice shelf at the top of the cave entrance.

We can already hear the bats.

Our only instructions from the pointing woman are that we start thru that path which circles thru the cave and returns on a path over yonder leading back to the original one. Sounded simple and she was so nonchalent about this "loop".

The darkness swallows us up faster than we have time to adjust to. The head clearance starts off as reasonable but the spring which created the cave gets wider and deeper, leaving little room for passage along the shelf like, treacherous edges we are straddling. It`s getting muddy. The rocks are slippery, and the stalagtites and mites became obstacles as we burrow deeper. The linternas are weak, providing an uncomfortable range of limited illumination. Lorraine speaks of her knees shaking. I decide we have to enter the water if we are going to continue. Stopping to process this decision, our feet on the last horizontal stones, I point the light at where Lorraine has placed her hand for leverage. I think it was the spiders that really gave her the final push over the psychological edge. Lorraine´s breathing changed, her voice was nervous and sentences short. Large black spiders with gold stripes awaiting patiently in their webs are littered along the walls. Lorraine`s hand has somehow missed encourtering them but the light reveals four. If her hand were at the center of a cross, a spider was at each extremity. I extended my hand which she readily accepted.
Slipping into the stream, we waded onward, trying not to imagine what might be in the water. The bats above our heads made that easy.
Relieved, in no time we had reached the exit of the cave. It was thrilling. I was psyched, and, within a couple minutes, Lorraine seemed okay, too. We could see the walkway above that would lead us out of this heroic brush with danger. I start looking around for an evident path or sign. That`s when I notice a few yards ahead the entrance to a second cave.
Lorraine "You`ve got to be kidding me. If you think I`m going back in, you`ve positively lost it."
I convince her. This second cave quickly becomes difficult to navigate. I keep hoping the next bend will illuminate, revealing the exit. I doesn`t. The ceiling closes in on us to the point that our packs are catching on the stalagtites, even when we are in a hunched over position. We are already waste deep in the murky water, dragging feet through the silty bottom. A sharp bend the left and the ceiling opens up bit. Swish!! Bats are dodging our heads. We feel the current of wind from their flaps. I decide not to shine the light on them, as it only scares them and me more. The guana (bat dung) and drips of condensation from the rocks overhead is constant. Lorraine is whistling "These are a few of my favourite things" from the Sound of Music, to cheer herself up. I am idly chatting positive words of encouragement "You`re doing great, Lorraine! There. Look. It`s just a bit further."-- assuring her that we are almost out as I can see light up ahead. Surely this must be the end, as with each step the cavern is flooded with natural light.
A two foot by one foot whole from above, leading some ten feet up to the surface has tricked us. There`s no way I can push her up that high, and I am doubtful that either of us would actually fit through the opening. Our hearts sink. "Should we turn back?", she asks. "I don`t know. How about if we just go bit further?" Lorraine`s fear and irritation responds with "Whatever we do, let`s keep moving!" The terror in her voice is evident. Although I can`t see them, I am almost certain the tears are blinding her. On the ground below the exposed whole, there are the remains of charcoal logs. I figure the exit must be soon, as noone in their right mind would`ve hauled these logs from the distance we had come, and some of the charcoal logs appeared too large to have been shoved through the whole (right?).
Soon we are back into crouched positions, still getting God knows what on our bodies from the critters above the water line, and even worse thoughts about the snakes and leaches that might have already found us.
Within a couple minutes, I can feel the rush of air. We are climbing more vertically upwards. The water is not as deep and is moving more quickly. There are more active bats and the ceiling has opened up. All good signs!! In a gloriously welcome turn, voila!, daylight!
With sighs of relief and the wiping of our brows, we are beeming with smiles and laughter. We joyously run out of the cave and up the banking onto the grass. We recompose ourselves, adjust our packs and look around.
Not so fast. There are no signs. There are no paths.
"Where is the path?", asks Lorraine. "It`s gotta be here somewhere. Perhaps just up there." We are deep in a ravine. Both of the jungle walls around us are steep. Looking up river, it is swampy and too dangerous. We to the top of the left bank, as it looks like a clearing beyond the first line of trees we see. Arriving to the top it is just a vastness without end. My thoughts are nearly drownded out by the critters of the forest who are laughing at us. Orienteering ourselves with the hypothetical direction of the caves, we agree it must be the other side we need. We climb all the way back down to the river. The walls of the hill are unforgiving, the footing unsure. Looking back into the cave, we realize that may be over only sure way of return.
No way! I am not risking Lorraine having another meltdown in the cave. She`s still wiping the tears from eyes. I tell her how brave she has been.
We tromp through the strangling vegetation of ferns, banana trees, wild grasses and note the canopy above. I have flashbacks of the men we would see on the previous hikes. They always carried a machetee. I don`t have one. The sun is setting. I glance at the watch. Lorraine see me and confesses she`s already noted we probably have but 45 minutes before the sun will have dropped behind distant mountains, enshrowding us in darkness. I am planting each foot with determined stride. My inner dialogue empowers me with "I will not give up. We will get out of this. I trust that I am exactly where I am supposed to be and the path I am to take will be revealed." A calmness comes over me as I let go of my fear.
"Look, Lorraine! We`ve stumbled upon a path!" Sure enough, a freshly cut path, wide enough for one foot in front of the other led us upwards and around to a clearing. In the field we spot an old water tank. Crossing the field we spot a hut and finally the cement walkway.
We`re out!!
"I´m gonna kill him!", jokes Lorraine. "Steve told us we should do it.", she teases.
With feet now on pavement, we are practically skipping with the satisfaction that we`ve made out way out of the jungle. We call to the woman. By now her husband has returned from work, and the whole family has come out to greet us. I am babbling in Spanish about how "we spotting the path after the first cave, but when we came out of the second cave..." She cuts me off, "What second cave?" That gets a nervous laugh from us. Soon we are all laughing about our misadventure, as I recount what had happened. "Oh, no, you were supposed to come right back to the path at the exit of the first cave." -- "Oh, thanks!!", I jokingly quip.
The children are giggling and looking on with amazement and wonder. The are shocked that I speak Spanish, and with such fluency. But I can`t seem to start the moped! I attempt popping the clutch on a descent of the hill.
After a few tries, I realize I haven`t put the key in the ignition.
Well, that really gets us roaring, and puts us into a wonderful mood. This comic relief is marvelous therapy.
Helmets on, Lorraine and I venture back to the "inhabited side of the island!" That makes three. Lorraine thanks me profusely for holding her hand and getting her through what was for her a claustrophobic nightmare.
The sun is setting, and the insects are now coming out and hitting my face. I remove one from my eye and place on my sunglasses that have miraculously stayed in the collar of my t-shirt during the cave walk.
We find Dale with leg propped up and beer bottle in hand, "for the pain", he says with a bright smile and his usual twinkling blue eyes.
The shower, ahhhh. I can`t scrub enough, thinking of all the grime that we`ve been through. I take my mud-caked sandals into the shower to express the crud from the treds.
Our inn-keeper loans a bicycle to Dale so we can all go to dinner.
Surely the stories of this day will get a lot of mileage. My friends are amazed how I handled the mishap with the camera. I remind them that I am a teacher, and that we deal with minor and major crisis on a daily basis!
As with most happenings in life, how you choose to deal is based on perception. Although it is perfectly natural to get upset, it is the staying upset that isn`t necessary. Processing those everyday stresses and letting go of the things we can not change will strengthen our will, free our spirit, and create a sense of confidence and balance. Touch your temples. The secret to happiness is locked between those lobes. Perhaps this place called earth is a material world designed to help us trigger growth in the spiritual. I am chosing on this trip to give conscious emphasis on nurturing my life experience. Please open your minds and hearts to others. Whether it be through travel or the random acts of kindness that you may do several times each day in the lives of those around you.
This sabbatical year involves much travel. We call the purpose of my travel "experiential learning."
I want my students (and invite others) to attempt to define experiential learning. Identify its importance. Draw a comparison to institutional learning. I want you to explore your options for experiential learning that you desire (list examples you`ve already enjoyed and ones you hope for). Finally, I ask that you devise a plan to make the experiential learning that you may desire into a reality. This will often start with research (find others that have gone before you and ask them lots of questions), narrowing in on a field/focus (name that exciting dream), taking an inventory of the resources and tools you will need (such as funding and permission), and setting a time line.
Paz y Amor a Todos.