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...)

Pictures from Guatemala City

A little late, but here are some pictures from the trip I took with my friend Jon Doyle to the USA's World Cup qualifier in August in Guatemala City:

A recap from Spain on our blog's new home

Who knows if anyone will ever read this...

But I thought it was time that our blog moved from its original home on www.huschka.com/blog to its own little spot in cyberspace.

I've move all our original posts from the World Cup, our England soccer tour and our latest trip across the pond for the USA's match at Wembley in late May.

So, it's been awhile since the USA's match against Spain. I wish I'd blogged right away, but I'm going to try to reconstruct my memories from that game.

After the game versus England, Amy and I hung around London until Saturday. On Thursday night, we swung by Craven Cottage for Ireland's match versus Columbia. It was a spirited match that Ireland won on an early deflected goal. Only some great Irish goalkeeping kept Columbia from drawing (or even winning) the match.

As die-hard Fulham fans, the highlight of the match might have been when the PA announced said: "Remember to purchase your Fulham season tickets -- when we'll again be hosting Premier League football next year. You don't know how happy I am to be saying that." That drew a chuckle from the crowd.

Sunday morning, Amy and I parted ways -- after staying up until 4 a.m. AGAIN to watch Game 4 of the Stanley Cup finals. We actually took naps between period breaks. Immediately after the game was over, I had to catch a flight to Germany where I was going to spend a few days with my friend Chuck who's teaching this summer in Leipzig.

After two days of drinking German beer, I caught an early flight Wednesday morning to Bilboa. From there, I needed to catch a bus to Santander. I quickly learned that NO ONE in norther Spain speaks English. (I know about three words in Spanish.) Still, it proved fairly easy to get to the bus station and buy a ticket to Santander. The only mistake I made was I didn't know that the buses had assigned seating and got booted from my seat. Fortunately, the guy who had my seat spoke English (and was in fact going to game.)

Once I got to Santander, I proceeded to quickly get lost while looking for my hotel. I ran across a tourist information center and once I again discovered the value of an iPhone. By showing the Google map location of my hotel on my iPhone screen to the nice woman at the counter, she was able to give me directions.

After checking in, I decided to begin the hour-long walk over to the stadium. I knew if I just walked along the bay, I'd eventually run into the stadium. The view of the high cliffs towering over the surf was stunning. The air was cool but not cold. A wonderful day for a walk.


And then I heard a huge rumble tear across the water. Above me, Spanish fighter jets performed an incredible Blue Angels-style air show. A massive crowd had gathered along the cliffs to watch.

After the show, I continued my trek. But I hadn't expect such a crowd. A few folks began to notice my U.S.A. jersey. Some pointed. Others gave me a few dirty looks. But I encountered no outward hostility.

The plan was to meet a few fellow American fans at an Irish pub along the beach across from the stadium. But (and, are you sensing a trend here) I couldn't find it. Then, I turned around and ran into fellow American, Robert from Amsterdam, who I'd met the week before at the England game.

With his help, we located the pub. First, we went to the upstairs bar. As we walked in, we noticed nearly every person was wearing a Spain jersey -- and it seem like every head turned to look at us. We were looking for food as well as drink, but the bar tender indicated that food could only be found on the lower lever.

Fortunately, downstairs was a bit more quiet (and less hostile.) But still no food, just some crappy bar nuts that, in our hungry, we quickly devoured. Two more Americans showed up, but Robert and I decided to head over to the stadium early since he needed to pick up his ticket from will call.

Around the stadium, we walked in a cool, light rain through a fan fest surrounding the stadium. A few fans stop to take pictures with us visiting Americans. The centerpiece of the festival was a large white tent, featuring a tribute to Spanish football and the European Championships.

Amsterdam Robert quickly retrieved his tickets, and we headed into the stadium in search of food. The concourse of the stadium was pretty typical of European stadiums: dark, concrete, smelly walkways. But we found a sandwich stand, and, despite my limit Spanish, was able to snare a baguette with pepperoni. (Something, Spaniards would serve me over and over during my two day stay. Apparently, the Spanish think American like pepperoni.)

Our seats were in the second level of the stadium, just above one of the corner flags. A few U.S. supporters were already in the stands. There was no security separating our section from Spanish supporters -- which I took as a sign that no one was expecting even a bit of trouble. I ate my sandwich.

As more Americans arrived, we chanted and sang. The Spanish fans around us mostly laughed and took pictures.

Thankfully, the US played better than they had a week before in London. Also, security didn't care that we stood the whole match. The fans around us seemed to enjoy our antis. A few teens behind three some sunflower seeds at us. But we mostly ignored them.

Eventually, a late, inevitable (and pretty impressive) goal from Spain cost the U.S. a tie.

With Amsterdam Robert's help, we caught a bus back toward the hotel. And I quickly crashed, finishing a long

Robert versus England

(Originally posted May 31, 2008)

On Tuesday morning, after another loooong night with the Red Wings, we were in no hurry to get up. Unfortunately, before learning the playoff schedule, I had booked tickets to see the Doctor Who Exhibit in south London at 11:30 in the morning. (No sci-fi nerd’s trip to England would be complete without this experience!)

The alarm burned my head when it went off and I started getting ready. I was stunned when Amy actually woke and came with me. The exhibit itself was cool. Lots of neat displays of actual props from the series. Plus, Amy took my picture with Daleks, Cybermen and even the Face of Bo!

After the Doctor Who, we headed back to the room and grabbed a quick nap.

Then, we had a decision to make: We had to pick between the two separate soccer events going on Tuesday at the same time. The U.S. Soccer Federation had set up a fan party at a bar/restaurant at the O2 complex. However, a soccer match between fans of the U.S. and England teams had been scheduled at a field near Wembley. I was really torn. I desperately wanted to play in the game, but didn’t want to miss anything cool at O2.

The friendly match was set up as basically two games. In the first half, those 35 and older played our rivals. In the second half, those under 35 took their turn. Total score at the end won the match. Amy suggested that we go to the fan match so I could play in the first half and then catch the 40-minute train ride down to the O2 to catch the end of the USA party.

I’m so glad she suggested this, because the fan match was an incredible experience. The England fans treated it like a real game. They lined up the players and played both teams’ national anthems. They also presented us with a banner commemorating the match. They wore white. We wore red shirts donated by U.S. Soccer.

Watching England warm up, I figured we were in for some real trouble. There were some big lads on their team, and, it appeared, a lot of skill. If there was any good news, it was the many of their over 35 players looked much older than 35. Most of our senior team was under 40. Also, strangely, two of their players decided to play the game wearing medieval knights costumes. The ref made them take off their red capes.

I lined up at right back, really, really nervous. I just didn’t want our team to embarrass itself. The game started out slow, but suddenly England mounted their first assault. Three quick passes and a blast that smashed off the post. Over the next couple minutes, they had two or three great chances but our keeper made some point-blank saves to keep us level.

Then, we caught them on a counter. We fired a pass across the box that got pounded into the back of the England net. We were up 1-0!

The rest of the game went much the same way. England probably hit the post 10 times. Seriously. Our keeper was incredible, saving us again and again – before we caught them on a break again to go up 2-0.
England got annoyed but began to tire a bit. The striker I was marking had to be 60 years old. When I lined up against him on corner kicks, he was breathing so hard that I thought he was going to have a heart attack. His age didn’t stop him from going around me a couple of times.

During the half, the Englishman who set up the match used a bullhorn to make good-natured jibes at the Yanks. Funny how he got quieter as England fell behind.

England converted a penalty kick, but we came right back and pressed them again. The ball smacked into their keeper and slipped across the goal line. But there was no call from the ref or the linesman! We appealed for the goal but the ref yelled to play on. But, in the classiest move of the match, one of the England players went to the ref and told him the ball had crossed the line. The goal was awarded.

Finally, our half ended after what seemed like 1,000 years. We had done our job, winning our half 4-3. We learned the next day that American youth team won it’s half 3-0! USA had beaten England 7-3! Apparently, the England players seemed a bit embarrassed by this.

The England players presented us with a bag with an England hat, an England pin and pen and a photo card of English players and their signatures. Amy really liked this gift. It was truly a nice gesture.

I got dressed and Amy and I caught the train down to the O2, luckily a direct shot. We got there around 9:15, and only 4 or 5 people were still there. We have no idea if there was much going on early. But it didn’t look like it was too exciting. We’d certainly made the right choice going to the fan game.

We had dinner at an Italian restaurant at the O2 before retiring back to our flat.

The next day: the real USA vs. England in Wembley.

(Not) Singing in the Rain

(Originally published May 26th, 2008)

Ok, we didn’t go to the spa today. The plan had been to get up early and take a train to the city of Bath and go to a spa build over a hot spring used by the ancient Romans.

Two problems: 1.) We didn’t get up early. 2) It was pouring rain.

So, we decided to hang around London. We took a train down to Tower Bridge and pondered going to the Tower of London. But much of the Tower is outside so we stopped at a cute pub for lunch and hoped the rain would pass. It didn’t.

Then, we headed over to the British Museum of Natural History. Amy typically hates museums, but I convinced her to try it. Unfortunately, it was an England bank holiday, so the museum was hot and packed. We did get a quick look at the life-sized blue whale model I remembered seeing as a child before bolting back into the rain.

Next, Amy, of course, needed new, more sensible shoes. First, we went to the world’s largest department stores, Harrods. (Which just happens to be owned by Mohammed Al-Fayad, who also owns the renowned Fulham Football Club!) The shoes there were all a small fortune. So, we stopped at a few more stores and got her some new stylish black and pink Adidas sneakers. We also picked up a better umbrella – a tougher one, better suited to the wind and rain of the British Isles.

We headed back to our little flat, rested for a bit and then grabbed a late bite at an Asian/Indonesian fusion restaurant. Delicious but pricey. Amy was thrilled because the food tasted like something her grandmother used to make. (In fact, we are burning through money in England! The exchange rate is killing us.)

Now, we are waiting for the Stanley Cup Game 2 to begin. Good news: It’s on nationwide TV tonight in Britain so we can watch from our room. Bad news: It’s on at 1 a.m. We’ve stocked up on Red Bull and Absolut and are prepping for a late night.

Tomorrow, I’ve got a difficult decision to make. I was planning to play in a soccer game that England and U.S. soccer fans had set up on Tuesday night. But U.S. soccer has also schedule a party at some swanky bar AT EXACTLY the same time. Aaargh! What should I do??????

Go Wings!