Tortuguea

It doesn't start smoothly, despite our best intentions, this particular part of the journey.  I check out at 0530, having left a bag at the hotel of 'city clothes.' By the time I return, the queue for breakfast is massive. Fortunately, we thought to ask for breakfast to go. There are approximately 120 people waiting to be shuffled on 6-7 buses. At some point in the ensuing chaos, my youngest 

Our guide on this leg of the trip reminds so much of my father before he hollowed out and caved in on himself that I can scarcely look at him and I cannot stop staring. 

We cross through a banana plantation and he points out the blue bags with only holes punched through to arate the bananas, explaining that there are coloured ribbons added each week. These are to denote how old the banana bunches are and when they are ready. 

The bunches may weigh up to 100lbs a bundle.

Banana plants, he explains,  only live one generation. The plants are grown generationally, with the 2nd and 3rd growing near the fruiting plant so that the water can be transferred when the plant concludes it production. Most bananas in Costa Rica are now genetically engineered and often from the same mother. This makes me pause and think of apple cider vinegar. And of mothers, how there is a photo somewhere if 4 generations and how already my daughter is taller than I am with an insocouciant confidence Incan only dream about.

The soil must be sandy for growing bananas must be sandy. The root structure is fiberous. They want sunny mornings, rainy afternoons and rainy evenings. Later, the rain will come down lukewarm sheets aginst the tin roofs and I will think about all of things that don't need passports, like rain. Like waves, the sound of turtles swishing through sand to lay eggs, their eyes heavy-lidded in their trance like states. 

Bananas are technically herbs - they have no branches, just a false stem. It is from this make-believe stem that a cord that extends to grow the banana fruit pushes through. At 6-7 months old, the banana flowers. At 10-12 months old, the fruit is ready to harvest. 

We leave the fields, make our way to a river terminal, then travel an hour and a half upstream, bi-passing the Colorado River before we reach Laguna Lodge, an eco resort on an inlet between the Lucky River and the Carribbean Sea.  

The sand is dark grey, the waves purposeful and whirling. The water is warm and dreamlike. 'Don't swim,' the guide says.  And I decide to listen.