Chillin ill

Sorry again for the delay.

Ill just apologize now, once, for the remainder of my journey. The place Im staying at has two computers for over fifty backpackers, and the town has one "internet cafe" with the same number of computers.

Anyway, when I first left the States I had made a sort of vow to myself that when it came to cuisine, I would always seek out the most local food I could find. Even though Im on a fairly lengthy trip, my time is still limited, so I figured itd be best to stay away from the stuff I can find back home.

Two nights ago I caved in.

A group of my new friends from the hostel had decided on pizza and, well, peer pressure is a bitch.

I had two slices.

And that night I vomited.

Hard.

Im not sure if it was the pizza, or my if it was my own stench from not having showered for three days that actually induced the vomiting. Either way, it blew chunks.

Yesterday morning, I had scheduled the infamous jeep-boat-jeep transfer from La Fortuna to the town of Santa Elena near the Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve.

If traveling by public transportation, the trip takes nearly eight hours and costs about six bucks. The jeep-boat-jeep took just over three hours--the boat portion cuts right across a lake that the buses are forced to drive around--and it put me a twenty-spot in the hole.

It definitely wasnt jeep-boat-jeep, though. It was more like van-boat-van. And still sick from the night before, it felt like unicycle-boat-unicycle given how bumpy the goddamn roads were.

Deprived of sleep the previous two nights, I had arranged a private room at the Pension Santa Elena. It was a good thing, because when I arrived I was over-tired, I had a splitting headache, and I felt like I was going to puke.

I had read in the Lonely Planet guide that the Pension Santa Elena, run by a brother-sister duo from Texas, was a shoestring hostel known for over-the-top service and accomodation.

Right they were.

I was told when I made the reservation that I would be asked to pay for my first nights stay and transportation upon arrival. When I arrived, Diego at the front desk showed me directly to my room, handed me a key, and turned to walk away.

I called out after him. "So, should do I pay now, or when I leave, or..."

Diego turned around, put both hands up in front of him, and said, "Tranquilo. Descansa." Calm down. Relax. "We will deal with that later."

That was exactly what I needed to hear.

I passed out for three hours--through the heart of a viscious rain storm--and I spent the remainder of the night regrouping, relaxing, and re-evaluating my options.

Today I feel like a million bucks.

My plan for the remainder of the day is to grab a cup of Costa Rican blackpot brew, watch the U.S. World Cup match over a plate of Gallo Pinto, and frolic in the rain forest.