gemboree1 027, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

Rock enthusiasts of Ontario and surrounding regions - it is now less than a month to go before the Bancroft Gemboree. I try and make a point of attending each year as does my wife Maggie.

One of the trends that I see emerging at the gemboree is its increasing focus on semi precious beads. Beads have a long and fascinating history; they were amongst the first forms of adornment and also, because of their value, experts soon found a way to make simulations - the Romans were experts at various cleverly crafted fakes.

Myans and Olmecs were big on beads. In having visited the Jade Museum in San Jose we saw some amazing examples. Because of the labour involved in crafting beads of nephrite and other tough materials the bigger the bead found at a burial, the more important the person is assumed to have been.

What follows is a small quote from my book on Ontario's rock and mineral deposits - just a tease in recognition of the trend ...

" Himalayan shepherds sometimes find etched agate beads lying in their fields. The cultural origins are unknown, though the finds are considered a good omen as the bead is thought to be a talisman that will protect its wearer from disaster. Known as dZi beads, they are believed by locals to be petrified insects, or possibly beads that the gods had dropped due to their imperfection. Very few are found in perfect condition and in light of their supposed insectivorous nature, dust must first be thrown over the bead if you are to capture it in your hand. To simply grab it without the “dust tossing precaution” means that you risk the possibility of it wriggling away".

If beads interest you , consider checking out Maggie's online bead shop at http://www.maggiebeads.etsy.com - she sells various beading kits and ships within 1 working day.

P0000199, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

Costa Rica is a country that is perched on a volcanic spine and as much as humans build their little structures it is only at the say-so of the mountains. I posted this on my Travelnet site about 2 years ago and as I no longer post there its just kind of neglected - too bad, it was a beautiful site, its just that it required so much work. The following story details our visit to Poas Volcanoe.

"Echoing my own sentiments our guide says, “We hope it no make an eruption today si!” He has the habit of stuffing the microphone under his arm pit and snickering like a mad man. “We travel 10 kilometres to 8000 feet now.In the accompanying picture you will notice, the lake down in the caldera. It is hot and acidic I am told (.01 Ph). “You put your head in the water and SSSSTT. Smells like a barracks, how you say… a foort” He hides the microphone and giggles again.

Maggie, my wife, and I are in Costa Rica for a holiday. It is an amazing place but we cannot aford to go there all that often. I am hoping to have the cash to travel again soon. Sadly the tax man was not so kind this year. We ride in a little tourisimo bus winding our way from lush green slopes, planted with coffee bushes, up into the cloud forest. We pass a mountain biker, they are everywhere.

Up ahead a bank of clouds hangs low; Invariably those who travel to the summit find themselves beneath a thick blanket of mist. “We are lucky today si! If jesus is with us it is sunny”. Apparently jesus is only with 30% of the tours. “Iss very important we have rules in the national park, we do not take rock or drugs, only pictures”.

The “Tourismo bus” parks with several others and we file out into the thin mountain air. I hope for Jesus to appear but he is nowhere in sight. There is a short hike to the rim from here. “We spend 15 minutes at the crater, if it makes eruption you run for the bus!” Jason our guide can hardly finish his next sentence; “If you do not see me and the driver, and the fire is behind you (he is doubled over now making choking sounds) we are back in San Jose already”. Its great to see a guy who loves his job, hes having almost as much fun as us. “Good luck compadres”.

Jason is what I call a travel guide with an amazing sense of humor.

We are definitly noticing the elevation, I am right out of breath though it appears that there is a small patch of sunlight up ahead. Just as we arrive, Maggie dragging along in tow obsessed by the humming birds, the clouds streak over the rim. They move at phenomenal speed and we find ourselves breathing fog as thick as cotton balls. Somewhere in the mist ahead I hear the sad lament of “Jesus has left us”. We hover there on the edge and then as though by miracle, the clouds are suddenly torn away and for about two minutes we are treated to intermittant glimpses of the moonscape below. “Jesus, he has come back! You are all lucky persons. You know why? It is because you travel with me”".

Costa Rica 3 185, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

A mother and baby howler monkey in what we came to refer to as "the monkey tree".

One really hot day when Maggie only wanted to relax on the beach I ventured further inland up a dusty road. I reached this tree that must have had about 30 howlers in it. I think it may have been a guanacaste tree that has been enveloped by a strangler fig.

The monkeys just watched me until I got really close and then the males started barking. It was insane. Every monkey within several kilometers took up the cry, you could hear them everywhere. Its quite intimidating.

Costa Rica 3 068, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

Maggie fans herself with a pamphlet in the heat. We are in the Tamarindo estuary with Meeener as our guide. From the main channel we weave in deeper through the mangrove roots. There are plenty of alligators, sting rays and birds of every variety. We eventually reached a point where the boat could go no further and we sat in silence eating pineapple and watching the wildlife. There is the high pitched shrill of the "chichira" - maybe it means cicada - and the smell of diesel from our boat. It rocks most alarmingly and is made of rotting plywood with a piece of bent rebar as an anchor.

Costa Rica 3 413, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

These are the bulls - the most ferocious in Central America. Guanacaste is famous for its bulls and these are the cream of the crop - killers every one of them. Guanacaste is especially well suited to raising cattle as its interior consists of vast dry plains - the only shade being the umbrella expanse of the Guanacaste tree.

The humped cattle or Zebu are more tolerant to heat and have far more sweat glands. Their oily skin helps shed parasites and ticks. The famous Brahman is a sub species of the Zebu along with other species such as the Gir, Afrikaner and the Indo Brazilian. To my untrained eye the above appear to be Brahman - first domesticated in India some 10 000 years ago but the cattle most commonly seen in Costa Rica are the Indo Brazillian. They have great hanging dewlaps and absurdly floppy ears.

Terrible meat and I would not reccomend them to anyone.

P0000181, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

This post had appeared on my other site - thetravelnet - but as it was too much to keep up I will repost it here for its informative value - would be visitors to the Mercado Central in San Jose - BEWARE.

Every type of unusual item can be found in the "Mercado Central" – Peruvian ponchos, cheap yellow plastic rain coats, pig’s heads, cow’s feet, leather belts and wind chimes. Situated just to the edge of San Jose’s downtown core it is well worth a visit but – keep your wallet close – the pickpockets swarm as thick as flies.

Admittedly, we had been warned but feeling invincible with my money belt tucked across my belly (gave me the appearance of a really beefy beer drinker) we wandered in to the foray.

For reassurance I rubbed the secret stash from time to time and glumly followed Maggie around as she nosed into the various heaps of bric-a-brac looking for trinkets. At a vegetable stall she found tomatoes at half the price that you could buy them at the convenience store across from the Melia (our Hotel). Absent mindedly I stood some distance off wishing she would hurry – I am not a big one for shopping. Two young guys who were running the store had not noticed me and the smaller, sharper one called out quite loudly to the other - “Englise”, quite literally meaning a tourist but more practically implying, “stupid dope” or “easy mark”.

Maggie wanders around our home town with her backpack hanging open, no doubt losing things from time to time. It would appear that she had continued this habit here in the Mercado Central – a practice that was akin to slopping great heaping piles of fish guts into shark infested waters. We were immediately identified as a meal ticket. I could see a pouch on the back of Maggie’s day pack where the buckle was loose and a wad of untended postcards hung out as a signal to would-be pickpockets, “Easy pickings here”.

The smaller stall tender’s hand shot out at the pack with the speed of a viper strike – no luck, a better angle would be required, and he maneuvered around for a second attempt. Working in tandem the larger, more placid looking stall tender drew Maggie’s attention. He stood squarely in front of her mumbling something and she straining to understand what he was saying.

I was already moving in for a defensive block, Maggie was still oblivious. She bent over to look for ripe tomatoes. The two conspirators exchanged gleeful glances; they were by all appearances a well practiced team. Sudden shock as I pushed the predator away, the stall attendant immediately changed his demeanor back to dutiful sales man once discovered. They were by appearances only teenagers. I suppose they were just doing what was expected in a world of limited opportunity. No hard feelings on my part. The viper had melted back into the crowd and we bartered for tomatoes. Jeeeze this guy is not so bad, “Picture?” I asked. Compliantly he posed with Maggie just behind.

You might see by the picture that no sooner had I raised my camera than “the stealthy one” slid back for another attempt at Maggie’s pack (see his foot to the bottom right of the picture). Pretty brazen dont you think? We left so as not to tempt fate any further. Consider that while I am watching Maggie, who is watching me?

Costa Rica 3 415, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

We were returning from a scorching afternoon on the Tempisque river, (I was gathering information for a travel article that is appearing at some time in the New Zealand Herald". Our driver had a great black chunk of plastic strapped to the roof of the van. While waiting for us to return from our outing he had bought this "thing" from the captain of a river boat who had fished it out of the river. Jason explained that the approximate value was around $400, but Juan, the driver, had got it for $30 - the liner for the back of a pickup truck.

Anyway, Juan is a big fight fan - bull fighting that is, we stopped at a paddock where preparations were underway for just such an event. The guy in the picture above was likely a bull fighter, a guy who rode the bull at great personal risk to himself.

How do you know he is a bull fighter? I asked. "He looks like one", "Very manly". Juan puffed himself up to show what he imagined a macho man to be. "Strong".

Beside us there was a truck of three bulls waiting to be let into the paddock with the others. Two of the bulls had one pinned in the corner and they were bullying the poor animal - poking and gouging him with horns and he was bellowing horribly. A huge big fellow arrived in a van with a bunch of cowboy-like companions. "Love Hurts" is blaring on the radio. Big hairy back, around 300 pounds and a tanktop - "he is the owner".

According to Juan, to be a bull fighter in Costa Rica you must train from early childhood, riding progressively more violent mounts as you age. The more people a guys bulls kill, the more of a celebrity owner he becomes. This owner is a local star. I asked Juan if he had ever seen anyone killed in the ring and he said that he had seen someone badly gored who later died in hospital but he thought it better when people had their clothes ripped off by the bull - this was -it seemed, one of the most amusing events to bull goers.

Juan said that the most feared bull in Costa Rica was "Malacrianza" - he has killed two people and his owner is from Nicoya. Incidentally the name means "temper tantrum", "Like a child who does not get ice cream".

Costa Rica 3 252, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

When it rains in Costa Rica - it really rains. At the beginning of the rainy season in Tamarindo the town quicky transforms from dry and dusty to wet and sloppy. After the first three rains the parched forest thereabouts begins oozing life from beneath the soil - first the baby tarantulas, shortly thereafter the land crabs in their millions and then the green lizards.

At the onset of this cloudburst we took shelter in a bar - my only complaint being the lady who tended the bar. First it was near impossible to get her attention as she was talking with friends - then sullen service and a massive rip-off with my change.

Using the patchwork of topo maps that I was able to download from toporama and James's directions I think I have managed to pinpoint the exact location.

At this time my good caving friend is recovering from an operation. I typically conduct my explorations with him. I am holding off the initial reconnisiance of the pit until he is in better shape - by the sounds of it his wound is supperating and I have suggested he calls a doctor fast - lets hope he does.

One the bright side I have just had my article on "Costa Rica River Travel" accepted by the New Zealand Herald, cant wait to get it in print. I am considering another travel article on the plight of Costa Rica's howler monkey's. In the town where we were staying (Tamarindo) they average two a day being electrocuted on the power lines. I think I will discuss that sorry situation in my next post. Mick

Costa Rica 3 270, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

One morning Maggie and I decided to head up to the "Peninsula de Papagayo", having no car we decided to take a Tourisimo bus. Here in Tamarindo the price is double that which you would expect. Walking down the Tourisimo bus lineup I asked for estimates and it seemed to be a consensus amongst all the various operators that it was a journey at which they would break even at 60 000 colones each way.

I made it known that I only had 30 000 colones to spend and walked sadly away.

It was not long before I was approached by Alan who offered to accomodate our needs at the suggested price and within minutes our driver Magno was picking us up.

We had a great day. The map showed that a ruin was situated at the tip of the Papagayo Peninsula. We cruised through the dry Guanacaste scrubland, Alan pointing out places of interest; he also helped Magno guess the route. It appears that the drivers here dont use maps and nor are they very sure of how to get from one place to another. I eventually had to lend my map to Magno and that in combination with many unplanned but supposedly purposeful deviations finally got us there. One point of interest though, in not using maps, the drivers are not sure how to read them either.

Beside the road we saw this rather sinister gathering - vultures picking through some kind of auto-generated debris. Is this what happens at an accident? I hoped that Magno had his licence. Were the drivers bones still in the seat?

The Peninsula de Papagayo turned out to be a big disappointment. we cruised through an arid grassland, high into the hills along the coast - a landscape populated by lonely tin roofed shacks and lightening scarred thorn trees. Stopping for a stretch I inhaled dust and dried cattle dung - very different from the mountainous jungle around San Jose.

Thinking we were set to explore a forgotten Mayan ruin I was in the highest of spirits until we ran up against the gates of a plush vacation complex. The whole end of the Peninsula is nothing but a giant golf course and at the end - the Four Seasons Hotel. Hundreds of workers combed the imaculate lawns picking lizards and stray leaves from the fairways. Not my vision of Costa Rica - not what I had come to see. I asked Magno to turn around a few kilometers short of the ruin. I did not want to see any such relic in the middle of a golf course.

Costa Rica 3 356, originally uploaded by Mic2006.

The bats cluster here under a shaded tree trunk along the edge of the Tempisque River. They arrange themselves in this linear formation to emulate a serpent. When one moves they all move, it gives the impression of a wriggling line - something like a snake on the tree trunk. This fools would-be predators.