Tuesday morning we hiked the trail circuit in the nearby nature preserve. It was a glorious day for a hike, windy and sunny. We took the loop in separate directions, and met in the middle, near a rocky point with a steep drop-off and trees that seemed to have been shaped smooth by the wind. There was a nice view of Volcan Maderas, on the other side of the island. Above us were birds, some bright blue, a few smaller yellow ones, and some that were big and hawk-like, gliding past sideways on gusts of wind like kites. I ran into a couple big clumps of beetles, clinging to the leaves of a tree, as well as another large insect, all of whom allowed me to let me get in close for pictures.
It was after lunch that we realized we didn't have enough money. We thought we had more. I swear. We wondered if we may have misplaced some Cordobas somewhere. Did we lock our door that morning? The ATM we had thought we would find up the road was but a rumor, and as it turns out, banks on the island were not able to access our Visa accounts. So we checked out of our hotel and walked to the bus stop, our heads bowed in shame for having budgeted so poorly. As we sat on the side of the windswept road, dust blowing in our faces, we munched on leftover nuts, looking pathetic, waiting for a ride.
It was at this point we met a couple very attractive French-Canadian girls, who I'd imagine a less sullen pair of young men would have wasted no time running off with on wild adventures. A school bus soon came chugging along, and the four of us jumped in the back door, stumbling over cartons of Bananas, squeezing into the few open seats. Alas, the Canadian sirens got off at the edge of town, and we continued on to the harbor, in search of financial solvency. We were stuck waiting again out on the dock, under the shade of towering crates of Toña, where we watched a young kid lunging shipments of flour, bananas and soap onto a truck. Luckily, we were not forced to take up similar labor in an effort to earn our keep on the island. We caught a boat before sundown.
Back on the mainland we took a taxi to Rivas. From there, we got bulk rate on another taxi by sharing it with a family of three, who crammed into the back seat with us. The ride to San Juan was truly terrifying. Bicycles in the road, weaving through piles of gravel and washed out sections, oncoming traffic passing on the shoulder, you name it. And this was the highway to a major tourist destination!Good thing, because where there are tourists, there are ATMS. We stowed our belongings at the Hotel Elizabeth, and made our way across town to the holy grail, the pot of gold...the ATM, which shone with a heavenly glow, in all it's 21st century, neon green glory. A few keystrokes, and we had what we came for. Having accomplished our mission, we celebrated with a delicious fresh fish dinner at a beachfront taverna. Back at the hotel, Elizabeth, the proprietor, was as happy as we were that our wallets were now replenished.
It is worth pointing out that I had sunk into a bout of "the malaise" around this point in the trip - the odd depression that sometimes hits me. I think it was a combination of heavy activity, unbalanced diet, dehydration, personal dynamics, language anxiety and dealing with all of the trips contingencies up to that point. Sadly, I was under this anxious, depressive fog for the next few days...but not without moments of happiness and calm. I've gotten used to anticipating these periods, especially during travel, and waiting them out.Went to sleep to the sounds of strong wind coming in off the Pacific ocean, through the open windows near the ceiling of our room.
