The score: Medusa 1, Amy 0

Monday in Costa Rica was really three adventures.

1) A slow, relaxing boat road down through the jungle with close encounters with monkeys and crocodiles.
2) A quick shopping trip in downtown Quepos.
3) A relaxing swim at the private beach -- where AMY GOT STUNG BY A JELLY FISH.

OK, first things first (IF you just want to read about Amy, see below): On Sunday, we’d spent half the day taking a guided tour of Manuel Antonio National Park -- a beautiful nature preserve just north of our resort. For the private tour, we had a fantastic guide, Leo -- who showed us a tree sloth, monkeys, numerous lizards and exotic plant and birds. Leo offered to take us on a boat tour of the jungle on Monday, his day off.

The journey was amazing. We began from the dock about 8 a.m. and the boat meandered down the river into the jungle. Very quickly, we spotted a big crocodile, swimming in the water. Next, we came across another bigger crock, lounging alongside the water -- it’s mouth wide open as it rested. As the boat approach, it slipped off the shore and disappeared into the water.




As we floated along, Leo -- who seems to know EVERYONE in Queops -- pointed out local plants and birds. The boat pulled into a tighter grove, and we spotted our first white-faced money, dangling from a tree and chewing on a mango. Then, we saw another -- then another -- then another. The trees around us were filled with white-faced monkeys.

The boat pulled up against the trees and Leo held out a banana to coax the monkeys closer. At first, they stayed in the trees. A few looked down, but went back to chewing on their mangos. Finally, one brave “mono” -- as they are called in Costa Rica -- edged his way down and jumped on the canopy of our boat.

Now, before the trip, Leo insisted that he doesn’t feed the monkeys. He only uses the bananas to lure them closer. However, the boat’s driver -- a man who referred to himself as Macho -- had no such qualms. The mono grabbed a bit of banana from Macho’s hand and scurried back up the tree. Soon, seeing their cohort’s success, other monkeys bounded from above, landing with a thud above us. Jan, Mike and I fed bananas to the monos while Amy took pictures. I clung tightly to my piece of fruit hoping to get a good long look at the critter’s stark white face. But it was too smart for me: it simply peeled my banana, taking the fruit leaving me holding just the peel in one swift move. It sprung away, grabbing the branch with his tail.






We sailed away from the monkeys, spotting another big croc. This one barely moved as he snapped it’s picture. Leo seemed very disappointed that he couldn’t find us an orange anteater.




After the tour, we shopped briefly in Quepos, the cool little town near our bungalows. We grabbed a bit to eat at a fantastic open-air seafood joint and headed back to the resort to hit the beach.

HOW AMY SURVIVED VICIOUS SEA ATTACK!

So, Jan went to take a nap and Mike and I readied to hit the beach. Amy was really torn. She wasn’t thinking about just hitting the pool, but at the last second she decided to join us at our resort’s private beach. (This would prove to be a bad decision.)

When the shuttle bus dropped us off, we found the beach completely empty. It was only us and a couple of servers at the nearby beach bar. We returned to our spot on the beach in the shade and headed off to the water.

The sea was mostly calm and the ocean does not get deep very quickly. We waded out, with Mike joking about poisonous sea snake. The water was perfecto. Cool -- just what we need after a morning in the sun. We were chatting and talking about Wednesday’s soccer game.

Then, Amy starts SCREAMING.

“I’M BEING BIT! I’M BEING BIT!,” she cried over and over.

I quickly swim over to her, thinking some critter scared her by swimming to close. But it’s quickly clear that she’s really in pain. Was it one of Mike’s poisonous snakes? I push the thought out of my head. I once stepped on a sea urchin in Aruba. That felt like glass…

Amy is still screaming and crying as I reach her. Mike is right behind me. Each of us grabs an arm and we begin pulling her to shore. She’s still screaming: “It’s biting me.” She keeps lifting her leg out of the water (which makes it difficult to keep her moving.)

I keep scanning her for a sign of trauma as waves from the beach keep smacking into us.

Once on land, I still can’t see an injury, but Mike notices a red mark on the back of her right leg. She can walk -- barely -- still howling in agony. I whisper in her ear, trying to calm her. I tell her it will all be OK. I’m not sure she even hears me.

We get her to the shaded chairs and Mike runs to get help. The bartender has already made his way down to the beach carrying a Windex spray bottle -- seriously -- and a small plastic bottle of lotion.

He looks at Amy’s leg.

“Jellyfish,” he says nonchalantly.

He sprays her leg with whatever’s in the bottle and rubs on the lotion. As he’s walking away, he says “Fine in 15 minutes.”

For a moment, it seems she is better. Her crying subsides and she sits on a lounge chair.

“Shouldn’t one of you pee on it,” she jokes.

A few minutes later, she’s screaming again and convulsing in pain.
It’s time to get her off the beach. Mike runs back up and asks the bartender to call the shuttle bus. Amy’s pain comes and goes in waves as we wait.

Once back at the hotel room, we call the front desk. They think Amy should see the doctor and call a taxi to take us to a nearby pharmacy. Amy asks Mike not to wake or worry Jan just let her sleep.

The cab takes forever to show up. He takes us down the road, but there’s no doctor at the pharmacy we stop at. However, the young woman behind the counter calls a doctor for us and gives us his name.

The cab -- which thankfully we told to wait for us -- takes us to a small caged door on the edge of Quepos. By now, Amy seems a bit better. She’s stopped crying but still in sporadic pain.

It would take an hour to tell the entire story of the doctor, but I’ll give some highlights. But let me say, he proved to a nice, friendly, competent physician who really helped us out.

The doctor, his name was Carlos Zuniga, looked young, chubby and a bit unkempt. He had a mustache and a bit of a beard. His medical scrubs were too long and he stepped on them with his flip flops.

He takes Amy back to his office/examining room. It’s tiny, the wall lined with medical texts. The first thing we see is a book sitting on his desk open to a ugly, infected jellyfish sting. Jellyfish in Spanish is "Medusa," he tells us.

He quickly says to Amy: “You must be completely honest with me. On a scale from 1-to-100, how sensitive are you to bee stings or skin irritations. You must be honest. It is all very similar.”

We all look at each other.

“On a scale of 1-to-10, how bad is the pain. Be completely honest.”

“6 to 8,” Amy says.

After a bit more questioning, the doctor gives Amy a couple of options. He can give her some oral antibiotics and skin ointment. Or she can get a shot.

“The shot will work quicker,” he says.

Still grimacing in pain, Amy opts for the shot.

Then, the doctor begins rummaging through a small box of little vials, apparently looking for the right medicine and dose. At the same time, he’s telling us all about the mistreatments by U.S. doctors. He and Amy discuss the sinus infection she’s be battling for months. He scoffs at the antibiotics she’s been taking.

“I’ll prescribe something else,” he says.

Finally, the shot is ready. Needles aren’t my thing. So, Mike stays with Amy as she gets the shot.

Total cost (with shot) for the emergency doctor visit: $70.

We pick-up Amy’s medicine from the pharmacy and head back to the resort. The color of her sting has already faded almost away, leaving only the scar from the sting itself -- several wavy lines along the back of her leg.



She felt well enough to go to dinner at nearby Aqua Azul, which proved to be our best dinner so far in Costa Rica. And while we were at dinner, the TV was on and it had a segment about the U.S. team arriving and practicing in Costa Rica. This cheered us all up.

We were incredibly thankful for how helpful Mike was. First, by aiding me in pulling Amy out of the water. (He insists his first instinct was to run for shore -- in case it was a shark. But bravely he stayed.) Then, he went with us to the doctor and the pharmacy in case we needed his budding Spanish skills. His good-natured spirit really helped keep us both calm.

Now, Amy’s trying to get some sleep as I sit blogging in 90 degree heat outside our resort’s office.

What a day. So much fun. A bit of terror. I’m just glad she’s OK. A moment like that really reminds me how much I love her.

Hopefully, our regularly scheduled vacation will resume tomorrow. If I get time, I'll add pictures of the monkeys and Amy's bite to the blog tomorrow.