Better Together - A Guest Blog

So... my best friend Rachel moved to Costa Rica for the semester. You should already know where this story is going.

Naturally, I had to go visit :) 

I'm learning lately that it's pretty impossible these days to move overseas and not share your journey online in some form or another. So with some personal motivation (and a little encouragement on my end), Rachel started her own blog about  her Costa Rican adventures. 

I hate to admit it, but she totally puts me to shame. Now that I'm back in my home territory and not living overseas, I rarely blog anymore. Rachel, on the other hand, is pumping out like three fantastic blog posts a week! The only time I can find anything to write about anymore is when I take awesome and exotic trips... like my most recent one to Costa Rica. Determined to blog again, I came home from my trip with every great intention to write about my time there. But after procrastinating for a few days, I received a message from Rachel excitedly sharing with me her new blog post about our vacation together. After reading it, I knew there was no way I could write it any better, and no details I could have described more perfectly than the way she did.  

But of course I still want to share about my Costa Rican adventure, so I told her I'm stealing her blog, and she gets to be a "guest-blogger" on mine. So here's a chance for you to experience some world-traveling through a new set of eyes (probably a little more realistic too...) and to enjoy a wonderful blog post by my talented and hilarious friend Rachel!


Last week I was so excited to have the beautiful and talented Sarah Hetrick come to visit me here in Costa Rica! Even though she could stay for only about 3 ½ days, we definitely made the most of it.  Jack Johnson was right when he sang, “It’s always better when we’re together.” Granted, he was referring to those romantic lovers sort of relationships, but I think it still applies. Having a friend to laugh with, adventure with, dream with, travel with, and talk about life with makes everything much more worthwhile.



We started out our little adventure spending time in the city center of San Jose.  Just walking down the Avenida Central was a feast for the senses – the smell of produce, the feel of “light” rain, and the cacophony of people shouting out their prices, playing music, and trying to get a glance at those foreign gals. {ya, I mean us. }.  After being here for almost two months, I was used to coming downtown so I started at my usual pace heading thru the street – though I learned very quickly that going anywhere with a professional photographer {ie: Sarah} means stopping every two feet or so for a photo shoot.  Let me tell ya, getting anywhere just became a whole new ballgame when you are looking at everything literally through a lens.  I realized how taking a gazillion photos – as touristy and cliché as it can be- is such a wonderful point of connection to meet people and really is a unique way to travel {And who I am foolin? We’re tourists. So we get to look like ones}.  It made me slow down, take in the moment, and meet all kinds of people to take pictures of or to have ours taken by them – people I probably would never have talked to before.  We made our way to the National Theatre and got to tour inside, which was gorgeous. Since it started to pour outside, we decided to spend some time in the café inside the theatre. It felt like we just stepped into Europe.  We ordered a light lunch and I tried my first cup of Costa Rican coffee that would turn any committed tea-drinker to the “dark” side {Guilty!}. A couple hours passed as we talked and shared with each other for the precious time that we had.  You know you have a good friend when you can forget where you are and just get lost in conversation.  It was one of those talks that I will remember forever.



The next day, we woke up at 4:45am {WHOA, what?! Yeah, ya heard me. 4:45am!} so that we could catch the 6:15 bus to La Fortuna.  You know it had to be worth it to get two people like me and Sarah up at that forsaken hour.  And dare I say it, it was worth it.   The drive was stunning with beautiful, endless green that gave creed to why Costa Rica is referred to as the Switzerland of Latin America.
 

We finally made it to La Fortuna – famous for its volcano, Arenal {which happened to just start smoking two days before we got there after zero activity in the last two years. Yahoo!}.  And what do you get with a hot active volcano? Hot springs! After waking up early and sitting on a bus for nearly four hours, spending time relaxing and sitting in God’s natural Jacuzzi all day was the perfect plan.  We ended our trip the next day heading out early to go swimming next to the waterfall “Cataratas.”  Again, this was a famous tourist spot to go to – but for good reason. It was breathtaking. I can just let the picture speak for itself.




So 3 1/2 days, one capital city, two 4-hour bus rides, volcano, hot springs, earthquake, {oh yeah, did I mention there was a 6.6 earthquake while we were there? no big} and a waterfall later, Sarah’s visit had ended. And what a wonderful time it was!! Cuz it’s always better together.
{Note: when you’re with a photographer and the storage on your camera is full, you get about four pics to show for your end of the trip. haha. If you want to check out some of her photos though, {she is suuuper talented} you can go to Sarah Hetrick Photography on Facebook. It’s worth a look!}
 
And there ya have it! My exciting and quick trip to Costa Rica... and I couldn't have recounted it better myself! (And I promise - I didn't pay or bribe her for any of those endorsements :-P) If you want to read more from Rachel, check out her blog - it's really fantastic!

How to Go to Italy Without Crossing the Atlantic

Day five of my trip to New England was the last and greatest adventure, the biggest and grandest so far for the week: Boston. While we may enjoy small towns at periods in our lives, Madeleine and I are city girls at heart, and nothing beats the exhilarating rush of conquering a new city together. The minute we drove on the bridge over the harbor to enter the city, the brick buildings and slender red chimneys arose with their historic splendor on the skyline. I knew instantly the city would be just as magnificent now as it was to my twelve year old eyes so many years ago when I came with my family.

Boston did not let me down.

From what I remembered, Boston was beautiful, had great food, great shopping, and tons of fascinating history. When I got to see it all again years later, this time with a well-traveled adult's perspective, I learned that Boston is actually rich in eclectic culture from all over the world, as well as an intriguing and integral location in our country's history. And like any city, it has plenty of chaos and commotion. Madeleine and I encountered our first obstacle in Boston when we tried to find parking. We had two options: pay $30 for the day in a garage or park in a cheap meter where only two hour parking was allowed. Naturally, we opted for the cheaper route, ensuring ourselves we'd be in a perpetual time crunch for the rest of the day. After running back to the car twice after our meter had been several minutes over, we began to feel invincible to the giants of Boston's parking nazis.

Whoops.

I tried to remind Madeleine that Boston isn't quite like Maine where a person can park wherever they want and not have to worry about the consequences, but I'm not really sure she believed me. On our third and final time racing against the clock to get back to our car in time, Madeleine suggested taking a detour to enjoy the view of the harbor. Good thing I talked her out of it, because upon our arrival ten minutes after our meter expired, we found a bright orange piece of paper tucked onto our windshield. 

Guess third time's not always the charm?

We didn't let it bother us too much because our evening had already been filled with fun festivities, and it had only just begun. During our walking tour of the city earlier in the afternoon, we learned that there was an Italian section of Boston called the North End. As you can only imagine, we were ecstatic. We hurried over to the area with great anticipation of what we might find and squealed the moment we set foot in the Italian environment. A friendly policeman informed us that there was a huge Italian festival going on that evening called St. Anthony's Feast. It was guaranteed to have all sorts of Italian booths, food tables, activities, and of course, plenty of handsome young Italian men.

We didn't even give the policeman a chance to finish explaining before we were off in a frenzy, whizzing through the maze of streets to locate things reminiscent of the people, country, and culture that we both love so much and that united us together in the first place. 

I wish I could tell you how fantastic the festival was and how there were Italians running rampant throughout the streets and everyone was speaking Italian and there was authentic pasta and pizza everywhere.... but in reality it was quite different. All that existed to be sure, but most of what we found was only the American version of what Italians are, or more precisely, the Boston version of Italians. After trying a few samples of ravioli and hearing more Boston accents than Italian, Madeleine and I gave up and decided we could probably find more true Italians roaming the streets near the touristy sites than in the middle of this festival. 

We navigated our way out of the festival and back into the North End, keeping an eye out for a good place to eat dinner (or more so trying to find a place we could afford since they all looked absolutely delicious!). We knew that if we were going to eat some incredible Italian pasta, we would also want some wine to go with it, but we weren't too keen on spending a lot of money on expensive glasses of wine at a restaurant. Instead, Madeleine and I decided to buy some Umbrian red wine at a cute little wine shop on the corner. Our dilemma then was to find a way to open the bottle, apparently not a very easy task in our country if you're not at home or in a restaurant. Asking around to others on the street proved unsuccessful, as did trying to borrow a wine key from a restaurant (definitely wouldn't suggest trying that one...). We both reminisced for a moment back to our days in Italy when Italians would sit out in the piazzas and share a bottle of wine with each other and how we wished things were the same in the U.S.

Ironically, as we were walking past the harbor (back to our car again for the millionth time), we spotted them: the Italians. It was all too obvious to us: 5 very European looking young people sitting casually in a circle right next to the water, talking, laughing, wearing skinny jeans, and enjoying whatever was in their small plastic cups. We knew we had struck gold. Madeleine nudged me to go up and talk to them since I'm apparently so good at striking up conversation with strangers. But I told her there are certain conversations that even I don't know how to breach without feeling awkward.

Needless to say, Madeleine was the hero of the story and casually walked up to the Italians (who ended up being from Florence!) and eventually asked to borrow their wine opener that we knew they had to have. Mission accomplished, and conversation starting to feel a little uncomfortable, we thanked them, wished them Buon Viaggio, and continued on with our next task of the evening: finding a restaurant. 

Where we ended up was perfect. The man in the wine shop had suggested a restaurant to us and told us the Italian owner would "take care of us," which he did by allowing us to sit in a special upstairs patio room. We indulged in our favorite pasta dishes and let the world fade away as we ate dinner true Italian style - talking, laughing, lingering, crying, sharing, savoring. I almost forgot there was a room full of people around us until our waiter came up (we had specifically requested to talk with the one real Italian server there) and said in a melodic voice that made us both melt, "Tutto a posto?" And for a moment we didn't even know that the Colosseum wasn't right down the road and the streets weren't buzzing with the hum of scooters and crazy Italian drivers. 

That dinner was one of the best parts of the trip. The dynamic conversation, the divine pasta, and the familiar and comfortable Italian atmosphere all contributed to the perfect last dinner of Sarah and Madeleine. 

But the night didn't end there.  

We headed home to change and get ready for an evening out on the town. Taking up a suggestion from our host in Boston, we concluded we would stay within walking distance of our apartment to make it easy to get back since we both had to be up early to travel the next morning. The nightlife reminded me a lot of Dallas and the scene was certainly hopping and crowded, but we managed to make our way into an Irish pub without too much of a delay. What came next will be of absolute no surprise to you: we found some Italians and of course immediately became friends. I can't even remember who started the conversation or how, but next thing I knew Madeleine and I were immersed in a full on Italian conversation in the middle of an Irish pub in the U.S. 

Life is so great :) 

Our efforts to go dancing failed as a result of too casual of clothing our group was wearing that night, but we didn't mind the midnight walk we took through the city, just wandering around, hanging out, and learning more about our Italian friends. It kind of felt like... well... Italy :)

And no other traditional Italian night can end any other way than with a late night piece of pizza and a long walk home.

Our Italian friends walked us home to make sure we arrived safely. I'm pretty sure the most dangerous thing on the streets were the cat sized rats that were running around in front of the apartment, but we managed to slip in without having a face to face encounter with one of those. By the time we got home, it was almost 5 am and Madeleine had to be leaving around 7. But when we finally sat down in bed, we couldn't even fall asleep. It felt like we had just walked out of a dream, and we couldn't believe all the great experiences from the previous day were actually real.

Without even leaving my own country, I felt like I had just stepped into a small piece of Italy, the country I love so much, and I got to do it and be there for just a few moments with one of my best friends. :)

You could read the whole blog, but really all you need to know about our time in Boston is pretty much summed up in this one picture ;)

When Two Adventurers Come Together...

When two adventurers come together, there aren't many things that can hold them back. They become explorers, risk takers, and pioneers. They become discoverers, builders, connectors, and wanderers. The world is at their fingertips, and together they are an unstoppable force. 

                                                           So it is with Madeleine and Sarah. 

I can still remember so clearly back to that cold winter morning in Rome when I sat by myself on a hard church pew surrounded by a body of believers, yet feeling so completely alone. (Read the blog about it here). And yet even with an eagerness in me to meet people and make new friends, it took every ounce of courage inside me to approach that group of young people standing in a circle after the service and try to somehow introduce myself and integrate into their conversation in the most natural way possible. The awkward edge of that moment still makes me uncomfortable to think about. 

But there in that group of young people was a girl I never had a clue would end up being a lifelong friend, a partner in endless wild adventures, and a support to stand beside me in all my ups and downs of life over the next few years. 

Madeleine Wilgus. 

She was edgy. She was risky. She was completely spontaneous and independent. 

And our worlds collided that day, introducing me to a zeal and passion for life that only needed a little prodding and inspiration to be released. 

In the course of our friendship over the past two years, we have only seen each other face to face a handful of times. The rest of our relationship has grown thanks to the convenience of modern technology, but that still means that when we do get to see each other, it's a very special time. 

One might have picked up on this if he had observed the cinematic reunion of two friends torn apart for over a year when I exited my bus in the bus station of Portland, Maine. Our dramatic greeting with a running start and a lengthy embrace accompanied by squeals and tears was nothing short of theatrical, and already Madeleine's passionate zest for life was flying off from her in contagious sparks. 

And that was just the beginning :)

Each day of our week together ended with new stories to laugh about, new moments to remember forever, and new memories to tease each other about and new experiences to gawk at. There's probably enough to fill a whole book, but this is just a blog, so I'll just tell you the best :)

Day one began with homemade blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup, a wonder I had heard about but never actually tried myself. It was everything I've ever been told it is. The afternoon found us taking a long walk along the sunny beach, several miles from our car. When we finally arrived at the halfway point where we were ready to turn around and head back, hunger and fatigue (must've been from the exhausting sun) overtook us and we concluded we would have to find an alternative way back. Our solution? Ask one of the cute ranger boys working the beach grounds to give us a ride in their golf carts. Rather than responding with the no we expected, they informed us they would be returning shortly and then came back a few minutes later with their nicest truck and a pre-prepared piece of paper with their name and phone number written neatly on it, which they made sure to suavely leave with us when they dropped us off at our car.

Day number two brought us to the quaint coastal town of Booth Bay where we spent our time wandering around the shops and restaurants, and basking in the sun on one of the docks out by the harbor. While I was off taking photos, Madeleine encountered a woman she knew, the mom of one of her friends from high school, who was loading up a little motor boat to take for a spin in the harbor. All smiles on her face, she joyfully offered to take us out on the boat and have us come visit her love nest cottage on a tiny island right in the harbor where she's staying for the summer months. It didn't take long for us to accept her offer. We spun around in the motor boat, just a short way across the water to approach a unique round house that Madeleine had always seen as a kid and dreamed about living in. Thanks to the wonderful hospitality of Madeleine's friend, we spent a few relaxing moments enjoying a tour of the beachy and bright house with the cool ocean breeze blowing on our faces as we sat on the sunny balcony overlooking the sparkling waters. Madeleine and I spent the rest of our afternoon in a lengthy and uplifting conversation over our fish and chip lunch, and then concluded our day with our Bibles and a glass of wine at dusk out on the dock by the lake behind her house. 

dominating gelaterias.

Day three's adventures got a late start but with no regrets about the relaxing and slow morning we enjoyed. By late afternoon, we had meandered through several coastal towns on our way to the city of Portland, where we set out to explore the Old Port section of town, specifically on a hunt for an Italian grocery store or gelato. After being temporarily sidetracked by a happy hour special, we stormed the streets boldly (and loudly) crying out in grammatically incorrect Italian any thought that came to our minds, particularly and frequently referring to our insatiable desire for good Italian food and/or gelato. We found the gelato and some pizza, and convinced several innocent passersby that we were actually from Italy. I'm certain  it was because our loud use of Italian words and gestures was so convincing and that it had nothing to do with Madeleine telling everyone we are from Italy. She sometimes forgets that our meeting in Italy doesn't quite constitute true ethnic connections. To conclude our evening, we met for birthday celebrations for Madeleine's older sister and experienced the wild nightlife of Portland on a Wednesday night (along with the three other people who had decided to go out that night).

The Portland Lighthouse

somewhere in the middle of yelling out random Italian phrases on the street

Celebrating with Madeleine's sister, Geneva, for her birthday

Day four's plan for an early morning departure didn't exactly pan out as expected when the early alarms went off and Sarah and Madeleine's hands hit the snooze. Finally on the road by eleven, we began our three hour drive to the tourist famous city of Bar Harbor. Not one hour of the road trip went by without our little Corolla's speakers blaring our favorite Eurotechno dance tunes - windows down, sunglasses on, and dance party happening with every pounding beat of the bass drum and scratch of the dj's tracks. As soon as we arrived in the breezy beach town of Bar Harbor, we went straight away to the bike rental and set off on an adventure through Acadia national park. After a few hours zooming around below the tall pines trees and gazing out at beaver dams and a glistening lake, the heat of the sun started to beat down on our backs. Eventually the bike path led us to a bridge, where we pauses for a moment to take in the view. I reached into my purse to grab my camera for the photo op, and before I knew it, Madeleine had disappeared down a tiny path that led down to the creek flowing beneath the bridge. I delicately made my way down the rocky trail in my sparkly silver sandals and called out after Madeleine with no response. I followed the trail deeper and deeper into the brush (all the while trying not to break my shoes), and all the nearer to the trickling water I heard, not knowing what to expect when I found my friend. Naturally, once I cleared past all the brush, I looked around and spotted Madeleine's bright blue shirt dangerously close to the waters that she was giddily splashing around in up to her thighs. "Let's go swimming Sarah! Come on!" she enthusiastically yelled out to me. I reminded her that we didn't have our swimsuits (or maybe that was just my excuse for not wanting to swim in questionable waters) but she even more excitedly suggested we just go skinny dipping. I'm pretty sure she was serious. Another gentle reminder that we had an audience on the bridge above us seemed enough to stamp out that idea, but not enough for me to completely stand up against her continual pleas that I join her in the refreshing (and dirty) water. 

And there we were, splashing around, hopping on the rocks, forging through bubbling waterfalls.

 Adventuring, exploring, living...

The night ended perfectly when I finally got to eat my Maine meal - a lobster roll with chips, blueberry ale, and mouth watering blueberry pie a la mode for dessert. Every bite was succulent. 

Day five was the last and greatest adventure, the biggest and grandest so far for the week. But you'll have to read the next blog to hear about that one :)