The first thing I did was thump my head on a thick bough going up the steps that would not allow passage for an overweight American. The jolt did not spoil my adventure. The room wraps around a mango tree to fit a queen sized bed, a refrigerator, and a bathroom with shower inside. Palm fronds on the two sides with floor to ceiling windows provide privacy. A wet wind cools me as I sit on the wrap around balcony.
I’m in the rain forest and I think I need a snorkel. It’s not raining but it always feels like it is. Sometimes it does rain, in torrents, for three minutes. I passed the famous Arenal Lake and Arenal Volcano to get here. There were lots of tourists so I opted to stay in Heliconias. Once I get off the deck, I’ll go for a hike on the property and admire the sloths sleeping upside down. But first, I may take a nap because writing about sleeping animals makes me tired.
I spent the morning driving around the town before this one with the owner, Omar. I don’t know if it’s because last night I told him his name was sexy (sexy means the same thing in Spanish), but today he tried to help me find the boys who stole my wallet. He even took me to the police station where the officer was no help. “Different department,” the light skinned man said, exclaiming the road police (the other department) were everywhere.
The boys look younger here than they are. I picked up two hitchhikers who appeared to be about nine years old and 13. What harm could little kids do? After describing the boys to Omar, and after he brought out boys from their houses for me to inspect, we realized that a boy only has acne at adolescence. So the boy I thought was nine was most likely 13 and his brother was probably 17. The older brother sat in the back and relieved my purse of its wallet.
Before I left Playa Carrillo, I thought I might get robbed in such a touristy area, so I only had $80 in dollars and colones in my wallet. I didn’t think I’d get robbed because I invited some poor kids into my car to rob a rich white American. I asked for it. I received an $80 lesson. Plus, I don’t have a driver’s license so I can’t speed anymore. That’s annoying.
Luckily, I’m staying in a tree house to take the edge off. And it’s not a tree house where I go with other 14 year olds to smoke and drink Boone’s Farm Rosé while listening to Pink Floyd albums. It’s a tree house for grown ups, grown ups who want to feel like they are little kids, and for me, do dumb little kid things.