Central American Epic Part IV

Adventure Contributor Alex Stoy tells the story of his own Central American escape.

Ananando gently took the hands of the shorthaired brunette with large matching brown eyes onto his and started massaging her palm, fingers and wrist.  She looked mesmerized, at peace with life and her surroundings.  Her eyes slowly began to close.  Ananando then took her left hand and massaged it in the same manner.  The Argentine’s head started to fall forward and ‘chicken peck’ blank air.

“Right about….” Dave began to say, “now!”

The shorthaired Argentine beauty passed out sitting upright as if something were balancing her weighty body.  Her friends looked at one another with that “What just happened!” look.  The longest haired brunette with amazing olive skin grabbed her sleeping beauty friend and shook her.  No response.  She shook harder and yet again, no response.

“Happens every time,” Dave said.

You could see Ananando perfectly cool, calm and collected.  He turned to one of them and asked if she would like a massage.  Her head turned left and right faster than your mom asking if you would like more lima beans.  He continued down the line but received the same ‘heck no!’ response from the remaining two.  Ananando turned to the sky and took a deep breathe in and placed his hand on the sleeping beauty’s shoulder.  She soon started to come to, like a boat making its way through San Francisco fog.

Slowly, the third Argentine beauty raised her hand asking to be massaged.  Ananando politely agreed and took her right foot.

A few minutes passed and Dave broke his conversation of his bush pilot days in Alaska with “Right about….now!”

And there was a second sleeping beauty, drool hanging from the corner of her mouth.  The first sleeping beauty had come to enough to see her friend passed out and began to panic a little bit realizing what just happened.  The final two looked at one another in disbelievement and raced each other’s hands high into the sky faster than an Apollo mission blasting off to the moon.  Ananando laughingly agreed and started in on the shoulders of the long, straight haired Argentine with piercing Caribbean blue eyes and before you knew it, like a Mike Tyson knock out, her chin hit her sternum and she was all lights out.

The short haired beauty blankly looked at her passed out friend and her half knocked out one and raised her right hand to her head, scratching at the skin of her scalp.  The fourth Argentine jumped into Ananando’s lap begging for a massage.  He couldn’t resist.

“Part of his business scheme.  Ananando comes up here looking for tourists to take out on his boat to go scuba diving, snorkeling, fishing and sight seeing.  Reels them in every time.  All these years I’ve been coming to Montezuma I’ve never seen a guy in any of his boats.  He’s the man,” the bush pilot commented as he stood up and offered his hand,

“Pleasure to meet the both of you.  Hope your time in Montezuma is more memorable than you ever thought it would be.  Cheers.”

Damian and I made our way back into town for another round of fruit smoothies!  They’re like crack in the middle of a 90-degree and 80% humidity day.  Across the street a sign hung from the sea blue, fire engine red and banana peel yellow shanty “Isla de Tortuga: Snorkeling Tours.” I signed us up for the following day and we headed for a siesta under a palm tree.

Waking up to the soothing sounds of Pacific waves is rejuvenating and a magical way to escape life’s realities.  The white furl of a wave crashing on black rock while crabs go clamoring along is pretty damn cool, in a yogic kind of way.  Our two lady friends from across the hall came strolling side by side along the water’s edge.

“You two are staying in the room across from us, right?” the pale white skinned American asked.  The stunningly beautiful olive skinned, straight haired brunette just remained silent.  With a foggy mind and hazy eyesight I replied “Yeah.  Where are you two from?”

“I’m from San Francisco and Angelica is from Peru,” Suzanne responded.

“We are heading out to grab a bite to eat, a movie and then maybe a swim later under the full moon if you guys want to join?”  In my mind I’m saying “Hell yeah!!!” and in the real world I let Damian respond with “That would be great.”

“We’ll grab you guys back at the hostel.  Enjoy your siesta,” Suzanne said.  Angelica walked away staring at me as if we had once met in a previous life.  I stared back because well, she was super attractive and I was captivated by her enticing large brown eyes, silky smooth olive skin, long, lean and athletic legs and a smile you only see every once in a blue moon.  I had puppy eyes, as she became a silhouette under the palms.

Damian and I made our way back to the Hostel to clean up and get ready to go out.  “Wanna go chill on the balcony and have a beer?” I asked Damian, knowing his typical response would be no, as he doesn’t drink alcohol.

“You know, I appreciate that you always offer knowing I’m going to say no, but no thanks.”

Sitting on the upper balcony blanketed in plum, nectarine, coconut, ivory and magenta sarongs from Indonesia, Peru, Hawai’i and Costa Rica, Damian and I fell into a common brotherly conversation over a cup of mate.

“Alex, if there is one thing you could teach to the world, what would it be?”

I sat deep into my colorful Adirondack chair and pondered the question for a moment.  The tangerine sun was sliding behind gray and midnight blue clouds hovering over the horizon.  Waves grew from mid thigh to head high, sending a soft, gentle mist up onto us and I definitively responded,

“Compassion.”  Turning my head in Damian’s direction “Yeah, compassion.”

“That’s what I would teach too but, how do you teach compassion?  It’s something you learn over the years, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.  I think travelling helps, especially foreign travel where you can experience different cultures, different ways of life, different people. It should be mandated young children should have to travel internationally to see what the world is all about.  Might teach an appreciation for what the world actually is.  I don’t know.”

One thing Damian and I didn’t know was that we weren’t the only ones involved in this conversation.  A couple of travelers from Australia, Texas and Europe gathered below on the deck and were listening in.  We noticed one girl kept coming upstairs to bring her laundry to the cleaning room; most times her stringy bamboo basket was empty.  A couple from California who was in Costa Rica to run a multi-day race across the country lay on their bed behind us, window open.

They had had an argument while on a 17-mile morning run and haven’t been able to get over whatever it was they were arguing about.  Probably something so miniscule like, giving an energy gel without caffeine at the wrong time.  Most arguments in life are like that, pointless and short-lived.  Our conversation lasted until the sun was rising over Japan, ending without an answer on how to spread compassion except to just walk softly and live it.  The sound of creaky boards resonated from below; the dryer came to a halt, the window closed.  We made our way to our room to collect our things and head to dinner.

“Hey guys.  Hope you don’t mind we listened in on your conversation.  I think the whole Hostel was listening in because we’ve had a couple of conversations with others on how to walk in peace and spread compassion.  Our answer to your question is to just ask people on how they would spread compassion….compassion through conversation,” the European couple said.

We turned the corner to head out onto the beige dirt road and were interrupted by the couple from California,

“We thought about your question, about how to spread compassion.  We were fighting and arguing over something so meaningless, at least in the long run, and wouldn’t say a word to one another until my husband called me over to the window, asking me to be quiet.  We listened to your conversation.  You guys are brothers right?  Interesting conversation for brothers of such a young age to have, don’t you think?”

What, this isn’t normal talking about peace in the world and how to spread happiness and compassion?  What do brothers talk about?  The weather? Their jobs? Their families?  What is normal anyways?  Talking about compassion IS normal.  We smiled and said glad we could be of service and continued on down the road in the dark, towards the fiery glow of Montezuma.

We made our way into town to meet up with the two beautiful ladies staying across the hall to have dinner and watch the movie ‘Geisha.’  Angelica, now residing in Philadelphia, had an athletic build, straight brown hair, perfect olive skin and vibrant energy.  Suzanne was from San Francisco, of more roundness, long brown hair and full of luminescence.  The lifelong friends chose, like us, to meet in Montezuma after not seeing each other for 5 years.  I though they came to be partners, not that there’s anything wrong with that!

My brother informed me I should try the traditional Costa Rican meal of rice, beans, veggies and an egg called Gallo Pinto.  He’s been eating it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, “It’s just that good!”  It was good but my organic Costa Rican café con leche and fried plantains in syrup with whip cream dessert was that much better!  The ladies agreed.

I don’t remember much of the movie except for the elegance in the way Geisha’s move.  It’s as if they are the fine China moving the fine China.  They moved like satin curtains in a subtle summer breeze.  They moved with compassion and grace.  They moved with divine elegance.

My eyes moved towards the pearly white smile of Angelica and the glow her skin shared with the movie light. Her hair curving around her beautiful brown eyes fixed to the temporary movie screen slightly blew from the cooling of the stand up fans.  I remember thinking to myself, does love at first sight exist and if it does, is it ever lasting?

The sound of the film slapping the movie reel brought me back to reality.  The movie was over and all I heard was ‘Interesting movie’ and ‘Is that what a Geisha is?’  I had no clue the movie was over and was caught with both eyes glued to the beauty of an angel with nothing to say.  Damian suggested we all go for a full moon walk on the beach.  Everyone obliged.

It’s amazing how the world changes from sun to moon, from day to night, from light to dark.  What once was a deep blue ocean with white capped waves is now a silver, gleaming black tide with hardly a pulse or heartbeat, flat lined.  Luna, in all her brightness rose into the starry night sky lighting up Angelica’s features enough to make her features lure me in.

Suzanne was already half naked and running into the ocean, diving into the first wave like a porpoise.   Damian was second, leaving his clothes scattered in the sands of time.

“Our turn,” I said ripping my shirt off and kicking my flip-flops into the sand.  Angelica moved slowly, swaying her Peruvian hips side to side, sliding her sarong from her waist without using her hands, exposing her bikini bottoms.  Mesmerized, I tripped into the ocean taking a mouthful of salty water.  She continued sliding her shirt off exposing her voluptuous curves.  She swayed into the midnight Pacific waters, using the breaststroke to join Suzanne and Damian.  Love at first sight might exist.

We played in the ocean, tackling and splashing one another under the silver moon until we were worn out enough we had to lay on the black sandy beach.  Suzanne spoke of how much she enjoyed not being bogged down by city life and how she said she could ‘finally breathe.’  Damian spoke of how cool Yellowstone National Park is and the way grizzly bears and wolves travel and live.  Angelica never spoke.  She just curled her sexy legs in, wrapped them in her arms and stared out over the ocean.

I never spoke.  I sat there wondering if Angelica spoke English or not.  I pondered wrapping my arms around her, kissing her neck and running my fingers lightly over her body.  I thought about dancing in a Central American nightclub, grinding our bodies to the bass and beats of live drums and the DJ spinning techno beats.  I imagined rolling in the black sand together with waves crashing all around us.

“Dude, let’s go!” my brother shouted as the three of them ran off towards the pulsation and fire of Montezuma.  Fire was being juggled and danced through.  Musicians were jamming in the streets.  Rasta’s, Euro’s, Americans and Aussies were stomping their feet and clapping their hands.  Montezuma was coming to life in the middle of the night and I realized I wasn’t daydreaming but rather, I was becoming a believer.

Beads, necklaces, shells and cd’s, didn’t matter what some Rasta was trying to sell me, I just wanted to get close to Angelica and dance.   A discotheque version of Bob Marley’s Concrete Jungle was resonating and thumping from Chico’s Bar.  Through the flamethrowers and fire dancers I could see Damian, Suzanne and Angelica bobbing their bodies to the beat on Montezuma’s dirt roads.  Damian was trying to groove on Suzanne.  Angelica was dancing the Salsa, a dance I kind of know.  I tried to make my way but was intercepted by a fire dancer.  A drunken fire dancer.  Grabbing me by the arm, he drug me to the middle of the outdoor party and started to throw flames all around my body and head.  He dropped the fire sticks a few times creating some concern and bringing laughter from the crowd.  He picked his sticks up, relit the fire and spun them around my head, tripping on his own two feet and catching my hair on fire.

As I beat my head to a pulp with my hands, Angelica ran over with a beer and threw it all over me, extinguishing the flames.  The fire dancer took off running and the crowd erupted into a heavier rhythm.  The party escalated and there I was, front and center with my hair scorched, drenched in beer and with my first love at first site angel.

Time stood still.  All the sounds of a Latin dance club in the middle of a jungle went silent.   My body went numb.  Our eyes were fixed on each other until Angelica tossed her long brown hair in one rapid sweep and started to dance up on me. So much for being shy.

She grabbed my hands and placed one on the small of her back and the other on her hip.  Our bodies pressed up so close I could feel her heart rhythm.  Her lips came to my neck but never touched, I could only feel the heat of her breathe.  I pressed her back into Salsa II and she followed closely.  For the first time in my life, my dream of Latin dancing in a Latin country was coming true and I have no clue where these moves came from, except from the sexual passion we shared.

We spun, we turned, we dipped and dived and jumped and jived until the early morning hours before realizing the sun was coming up and the party was going home.  Angelica took my right hand, softly kissed the backside and ran off in the direction of our hostel.  I stood there motionless and watched her disappear into the palms and lava rock of Montezuma.  We never spoke a word or shared an intimate moment.  We only shared our passion and sweat through dance, rhythms and bass of Latin techno music.

I began the ‘walk of shame’ home to only realize our snorkeling boat was leaving in 3 hours.  I better run.