Welcome to the Jungle
Posted on Friday, 7 January
Sorry, couldn’t resist.
At night it gets cold in this jungle on the mountain. So cold that I wear his sweater and we say, “Man, it’s freezing,” even though it couldn’t be below fifty five. Right now Texas is actually very cold. Next week it’s supposed to get down into the ‘teens. Well, I definitely don’t miss that, I thought to myself when his mom told me on skype about the cold front she’s dreading.
The sun starts to rise at five thirty. But because of the trees and the surrounding hills, it gives the forest a dull and very slight glow until six. Then the sky starts turning from gray to blue and patches of bright light appear like splotches on the plants. Some mornings there are a few thin shelf-like clouds in the sky that appear in shades of pink and orange. The loud hum of the jungle night quiets down and is replaced with the brisk and concise calls of the morning birds. I see and hear all of this from our bed, laying on my side, and staring out through the tree house’s walls of screen.
I never once thought about what living in the jungle might be like, not even when we viewed the tree house and told the owner that we’d like to rent it. His mom laughed when she saw the place, said it was “neat,” but added that she would not choose to live here. A friend made a face when we told her, and then said, “Well, good for you, but I’m not crazy.”
We have daily visitors of monkeys, and our dog hasn’t stopped growling at them. Some days we look out the east side window and see a large sloth climbing to the top of a thin towering tree. The breezes that come up from the nearby ocean make the leaves rustle and then come inside to brush and kiss our sweating faces. When the sun sets and darkness surrounds us, the moths and flying insects come inside to get high on the warmth and glow of our light bulbs. Often a flying bug will land on our arms, necks, or legs, and sometimes falls into our dinner cooking on the iron gas burner. These guys were the hardest to get used to, but now I see that we have adjusted to living with them. If one plunges to its death in our boiling pasta, it takes our anxieties with it.
As I write this little blog, I am looking out at a family of howler monkeys crawling, swinging, and plunging from tree to tree. Out of the three species of monkeys that frequent the jungle by our home, these are our favorites. They are solid black, with some smears of dark brown. They are the biggest and the loudest. The titi monkeys are tiny, orange-tinted little creatures that make chirping noises almost like those of birds and come in great numbers to inspect and explore. The white faced capuchins, with their jagged faces and unsettling expressions, are the drunken bandits, quick and sneaky. Our howlers are strong, slow, and graceful beasts whose roars reverberate low through all of the land.
Just now a new sound is coming through the jungle. It must be a howler because its voice is loud and deep. But we’ve never heard a howler like this before. It literally sounds like a baboon having a barbaric orgasm. “They need to get a tree,” Joe said, proudly laughing at his good joke. I have seen quite a few monkeys since living in this country, but always as a tourist on the beach with my camera and giddy excitement. Watching these animals in their natural habitat, I felt like an animal myself simply observing a life much different from the one I’ve been given to live.
Last night I looked through our travel book, the infamous Lonely Planet Guide to Costa Rica. I want to take a trip somewhere and am leaning toward the Osa Peninsula, one of the last places in the country that resembles old Costa Rica. Unpopulated, pristine, and full of wildlife. Joe is not a huge fan of traveling. He always says, “I could be just as happy sitting around with good friends and a beer and watching a documentary about waterfalls.” I, on the other hand, have the urge to explore.
But he brought up a good point last night as I was reading to him about Osa’s waterfalls, hiking, and beaches. He said, “But we have all that here. We have waterfalls and beautiful beaches. We wake up with monkeys and sloths and go to bed with bugs. I don’t really want to go if it’s going to be more of the same thing.”
“Yeah, that’s really true,” I said. We do live in a jungle paradise. But for the sake of getting out and having the Experience, I am currently trying to find some cabinas in Osa’s Puerto Jimenez that allow dogs.
