An interesting ride South

Anyone who has hitched over long distances knows that the free lift isn't the only crucial element in the game (a game, yes, but much, much more).

Conversation is absolutely central once you get into the vehicle. It's often why the driver picks you up on a long and boring commute. As a hitchhiker you generally must provide sufficient talk to keep the driver happy while being careful to keep the peace. This can be tricky at times, especially if you're tired, or if a sensitive topic comes up.

Sometimes the hitcher and the driver are on the same team, fighting boredom and restoring faith in humanity. Other times they are in opposition. Either way, the conversation is the playing board, or whatever.

With this guy, it only took a few minutes for me to work out what type of game we would be playing.

Blabbering back and forth was effortless and not awkward at all as we cruised along windy Route 1 next to the ocean. He is a part time truck driver who apparently likes to wear Hawaiian shirts and a strong aversion to exercise, I'm travelling for a month, then going to the University of Otago in Dunedin for a semester. Once the basics were out of the way, he told me about his house in South Boston which he had purchased with his New Zealand Army Intelligence pension from the Gulf War. He had to ask me where Maine was. Hmmm...

As I got more and more suspicious, I participated less and less in the dialogue, focusing instead on the seals lounging on the rocks to my left. Apparently, he picked up on my uneasiness and took my refusal to play the game as a cue to step up the bullshit and mess with me a little. He asked about girlfriends back home, and I gave him a fairly detailed answer in hope that he'd stop talking about himself. Literally thirty seconds later, out of the blue, he asks, "so how's the gay scene in Dunedin?" What a weirdo! It was at this point I realized that he was just having a little fun with the hitchhiker, so I decided to be chill and not fall into any of his traps.

This guy was good, though. He knew I wasn't believing his crap so he decided to straight out intimidate me. Again, out of the blue: "I was captured in Iraq by the enemy! We were held for three months before we were able to overpower the guards! I took a knife and slit their throats!"--excited now--"Slit! Slit! Just like that, bloody amazing! Then we took their weapons and burned the place! All their ammo exploded! I reckon you could see the fire from 25 miles away!"

I can't remember what I said to the guy, probably "wow..." or "that's crazy..." Something that trailed off, to be sure. I knew that if I questioned the verity of his story he would try out something more horrific on me. In other words, I let him win the game, the bastard.
I wasn't really freaked so much as on edge and alert. I was relieved to be discharged in Kaikoura, though. He was to pick up some fish for the Christchurch market (where I was heading) and he told me that he would pick me up and take me the rest of the way after loading up if I hadn't gotten a ride by then. Not wanting to refuse his offer later, I got to the other side of town quickly.

For me here it seems that the rule is that for every bad thing that happens, at least two good things happen immediately. I got picked up by a nice mother and horse breeder (Irish draft x thoroughbreds, fancy that) on her way back home to Christchurch. We smoked her fantastic homegrown together on the beautiful, scenic drive South while listening to the new Gorillaz album at top volume. :)

Conservacionistas of the Eternal Forrest

Ok, here we go. Day 1: I have been here at Monteverde for a few days now. Taking a few hours of Spanish a day and going out on cloudforest excursions. We hit "Bar Amigos" at night are conspiculously a large group of rowdy Americans. Derek, from Arizona, and myself manage to break away from the our group and speak with some Costa Rican 20-somethings. One is a receptionist at a hotel. The other two are conservacionists. "Cool, where do you work?" At the Bosque Eternal de los Ninos. (The Eternal Forest of the Children) Mysterious. Not much else, lets meet again here in 2 days. Day 2: I notice the sign for this Eternal Forest of the children, another sign for the eternal forest nightwalks, and a path which disappears into the jungle. I do some guidebook research on the place. Apparently some Swedish or Norwegian children decided to raise money and buy some rainforest to preserve. Other schools of children from around the world have chipped in as well. Im thinking... CULT. Day 3: We meet the Ticas at Bar Amigos. Unfortunatedly, with another group of drunk Americans. After they get too drunk and most peace out, Derek and I sit at the table with the conservation cuties. We talk, plan to go to the Taberna for the music and dance floor. Click..Lights go out. Apparently, all of the Santa Elena is without electricity. Lets drink the beer before it goes warm! yay. They give us a ride to the Taberna for a change of scenery. Uh oh, I would say there were 20-30 Costa Rican guys at this place and maybe 1 or 2 girls. Whatever, Derek and I manage to hold on to them with Conversation in broken spanish. Jericha is going to study archaeology. I think she just offered to give me the twilight tour at the preserve. BAM, lights on, music on. All downhill from here. "Mae (dude), what kind of dance is this?" I ask some guy. "Salsa" Great, I try to remember the basic step from Cotillion in 8th grade...While I am deciding if I lead with the right or the left foot, Rico Suave, has already taken Jericha to the dance floor. Ok. I ll watch the footwork and take the next dance. No problem. Whooaaa. This guy can move, very fancy footwork, too fast for me to detect a basic step. One spin, two spin, three spin, four. Did he just catch her hand behind his back and begin dancing backwards? Unspin. Shit. This guy would have more rhythm than me even if I broke his legs. I head to bar for a shot of Guaro and a Hail-Mary. So, the night goes on, I dance a bit, try to smile, and bump into her every once and awhile. Reggae-Tone goes a little better. Merengue goes a little worse. Time for byes. Asks me if I am coming to the reserve tomorrow night? "Es possible..." I walk home and think about how badly I just got schooled.
Day 4) Fuck it. I walk to the reserve. Down a very long, shady path. Into the small building. I chat with Jericha a bit in broken spanish. Ok, so tell me about this night walk. Probably will see bats, lots of insects, frogs, and sloths. $15 dollars and a guided tour with a 11 tourists. I pass. Nice to meet you. No secret cult of eternal children in the rainforest. No twilight walk with the conservacionista. I was disappointed. I am sure you are too. Lets all put on some heavy metal and cut down trees. haha, maybe not. Derek and I have decided to take the workshop offered at the university on popular dance. Thats all folks. Yesterday, was probably the best day I have spent here. I rode Tequila (a horse) down a mountain with a view of the ocean, into a coffee farm, delicious lunch and siesta, back up the mountain, through the jungle, etc. A bit sore, going to some hot springs tonight with an attached bar.
Pura Vida,
Rob