More from the trip

Our two friends we are traveling with Mike and Jan Lasort are also blogging from Costa Rica. You can read their blog at: http://www.lastort.com/weblog/TwentiethAnniversary.html

A LITTLE ICE HOCKEY IN A TROPICAL PARADISE

There are three rules of living on this planet that I’ve always sworn to uphold:

1) Never get on an airplane that carries fewer than 50 people.
2) Never rent a car in a foreign country.
3) Never take a long bus ride a bus through the mountains in a Central or South American.

One way or the other, I knew one of these rules was going out the window on our trip to Costa Rica.

After a day in San Jose, we were headed to the Tulemar Resort in Manuel Antonio, a nature preserve on the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica. According to the travel books, it’s a harrowing 4 hour drive from San Jose. That didn’t sound like much fun.

Instead, we choose to fly Nature Air -- a small regional Costa Rican airline -- on a 30 minute flight to the coast.

Yet again, we awoke at the crack of dawn and grabbed breakfast with our two soccer buddies, Mike and Jan, who’d arrived late Friday night into San Jose. The couple choose this trip to commemorate their 20th wedding anniversary on June 3 -- the same night as the game in Saprissa.

After breakfast, we took a cab to the Nature Air’s tiny airport. The airline has draconian weight rules for baggage -- only 30 pounds for each checked bag. While checking in, they weighed each bag. With some creative packing, Amy and I came in just under the limit!

Next, they asked each of us to step unto the scale with our carry-ons. Apparently, if we were over 250 pounds, we would have to pay an extra fee. Of course, we were fine. Still, first time I’ve ever weighed in for a flight….

Now, I would like to say I had no fears about boarding a small 20-person plane to fly over the mountains to the Quepos airport. But I must have been pale in the hour before I plane left. Amy kept staring at me and asking if I was OK. My hands were sweating.

“Aren’t you even a bit nervous,” I asked Amy,

“I’m afraid of being killed in a shooting,” she said. “Or a kidnapping. Or a rape. Dying in a plane crash? That doesn’t scare me.”









We crawled up the ramp to the little plane and nestled into the first row. Mike and Jan were all the way in the back. Jan was even more terrified than I was. It was good that we didn’t feed our fears by sitting too close to each other.

In the end, the plane ride proved to be a piece of cake -- even enjoyable really. Unlike larger commercial jets, the windows on this plane were huge, giving us a great view of the scenery.

And really, the flight was smooth. It didn’t feel much different than any other plane ride.

After we landed, zipping low over a crop of palm trees, we headed to our resort. One word: Wow. Both couples are staying in their own bungalow nestled in the jungle. The bungalows are octagons, with giant windows on each side. Amazing views from every angle. There’s a big kitchen, giant bathroom and huge bedroom. It’s all better than we would have imagined.



The resort also has it’s own private beach -- which we quickly found. It was very relaxing. The only bit of excitement was during lunch, when a 4-foot long iguana decided to camp under our table. Amy got so scared she jumped up on her chair after the staff said it may bite her feet because of the pink nail polish. The rest of took its picture. Our waiter told us to feed it a tomato from my sandwich. The lizard quickly gobbled it up.




After the beach, Amy, Mike and I took a cab into the nearby town of Quepos to stalk up on food and booze. At the market, we bought bags of fresh bananas, avocadoes, cucumbers and mangoes. I think it cost like $3 total. We hit a grocery store for beer, bottled water, bread, cheese and lunch meats. We also grabbed some local rum to make mojitos.

Finally, we settled in at our resort’s bar to watch the STANLEY CUP FINALS.

Right after checking in, while waiting for the women to get ready, Mike and I had discovered the bar right next door to our bungalows. While they bartenders were flipping though channels, I noticed an ad for the Stanley Cup finals. Amy had seem resigned to the fact that it would be nearly impossible to catch her beloved Red Wings in Costa Rica. Yet, right next to our bungalows, we learned we’d be able to watch tonight’s big game taking place back home in Detroit.

So, just before the puck drop, and after a few drinks in our bungalow (Mike’s mojitos are legendary) we nestled into a table at the outdoor pool bar. To our left, we could see the sun dipping into the Pacific. To our right, a TV showed the puck dropping in Detroit. I’m certain Amy’s eyes never left the TV.

So, we drank margarita’s and watch the Wings take care of the Penguins. There was a brief scare when Sky Sports lost the signal for half of the second period. We missed the Wings second goal. But by the beginning of the third period, the game was back on and we were cheering victory. (This is the second year in a row we’ve watch the Stanley Cup opener in a strange setting…)

Really, it would be hard to imagine a more perfect start to our trip.

Destination: Costa Rica

The 3:30 a.m. alarm seems like a 1,000 years ago. It always seems that way on vacations. The days last forever.

That alarm is also literally thousands of miles away now, as Amy and sit in San Jose, Costa Rica. A local band sings in Spanish in background as we relax in our hotel bar. They just butchered Endless Love, though.

We are five days away from USA-Costa Rica at Estadio Saprissa, one of the epic, scary stadiums in Central America. The U.S. team has never won here. Perhaps, perhaps this time, they will.

We arrived in San Jose around noon to what has to be the most pleasant airport in Central America. We weren't quickly rushed through passport control. Instead, we grabbed some cash and walked by a bunch of immaculately cute shops before clearing customs.

We took a cab and reached our hotel just as a thunderous tropical storm slammed into the city. The ground actually shook, and the rain came pouring down -- like movie rain -- torrential. For about an hour, the hotel lost power, but Amy and I grabbed a great little lunch at the (overpriced) hotel restaurant.

The walk from our hotel to downtown San Jose took about 15 minutes, but it wasn't the greatest neighborhood. But with Amy's awesome navigation sense at work, we found our way to San Jose's giant, crowded, outdoor shopping district. It reminded me a bit of the shops that snake though downtown Cologne.

Everywhere we turned, someone was trying to sell us lottery tickets. We didn't bite. We nestled down at a streetside bar to people watch. I quickly ordered one of the local beers (hoping it would be as good as the Gallo, the national beer of Guatemala.) After one lusty taste, I stopped cold.

"What's wrong?" Amy asked.

"Smell this," I said holding my beer to her nose.

"It smells like cold urine," she quickly said.

It didn't taste much better. But I forced down a few more gulps, before finally pushing it away in disgust.

So far, Costa Ricans have been amazingly friendly. The agent at passport control, smiled and softly taunted me when I told him I was going to Wednesday's game. Amy nearly ran over some guy in the street, who turned and gave her a big smile as she tried to apologize. (If only I could get someone to replace the down blankets in my room!)

I had told Amy we would grab a cab back after out trip to the town center. But Amy, showing a bit of bravery, marched us back down the scary streets as night began to fall. We arrived back just as the sun set. (The sun sets around 6 p.m. -- the price of being so close to the equator.)

Early tomorrow, we catch a small, regional plane for a 30-minute jaunt to Quepos on the Pacific Coast. We will spend four days among the rainforests and beaches of Manuel Antonio before returning to San Jose on Wednesday before the big match. The big question: Will there be anywhere to watch the Red Wings' Stanley Cup games while we are there???

(I must say: I'm not looking forward to the small plane ride. More on this tomorrow...)