Raoul the Crocodile

No, this image has not been edited. It is the real thing. We were laying on a rickety little dock at the edge of a fresh water lake near the Coba Ruins in Quintana Roo, Mexico. Underneath the dock stretched this 10-12 foot North American Crocodile. He was hiding from the heat of the noonday sun. We paid 10 pesos each (which is about 80 cents American) to a family that lived across the street and they let us out on the dock to see Raoul (that's his name) up close and personal. He was beautiful, although I am not sure how smart it was on our part to lay belly down and hang over the edge of the dock. They can jump, you know. Five to six feet straight up. The young Mayan girl who lived across the street brought a plastic bag with some kind of raw meat in it (I think it was chicken) She was about 12, dark hair, dark eyes and a happy smile. She dropped bits of meat into the water and the croc lazily caught them in his massive jaws. The little bits that were left over were quickly devoured by a swarm of small fish. We asked what they were.... "Piranha."

Anybody want to go swimming?

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Magic in the Palm Groves

One of my favorite things about driving down the long road to Manuel Antonio is the palm groves. Rows and rows of palm trees, their trunks laden with ferns I would have given my right arm for when I lived in south Carolina, create a magical green world along the narrow highway. The trees bear bright red berries growing in huge bunches just where you think the coconuts might grow. The color, like cranberries at christmas time. But the best part is the old fashioned carts pulled by oxen and directed by real Costa Rican cowboys.

Witches in the Islands of Bocas Del Toro, Panama

An old black woman approached my friend. She took off her necklace and handed it to him. Hanging from the delicate chain was a thin gold coin with an odd pattern stamped in it. “Do you understand?” she asked in think Creole English as she pressed it into his palm. “No,” he answered, puzzled. “I’m a witch,” the old woman explained. This is not a story. This is real. I have no idea why the old woman declared herself to my friend. Several times, I have heard that there are many witches in Bocas Del Toro and every person who has confirmed it has warned me not to talk. So why did the old woman approach my friend? And stranger yet, why did she go on to tell him that there are many witches in the area? Why did she tell him the lady across the street is a witch? And why did she tell him what the witches are up to? Normally I would not take something like this too seriously. But in light of recent happenings, I am reeling with this information. For ...

Beware of Falling Mangoes

There is a book I love called An Embarrassment of Mangoes . Its about a couple sailing in the Caribbean, meeting locals, and collecting recipes. It is nearly my favorite book of all time because this is what I want to do with my life...sail the Caribbean and collect people and recipes. Little did I dream one day I would own a Tiki Bar and B&B in Costa Rica, much less one gifted with mango trees. In fact, I do think I am going to need to post a WATCH FOR FALLING MANGOES sign above my door as the still green fruit is falling off the trees. I have no idea why. A local told me the tree sheds the unwanted-unfit fruit before it ripens. I am glad no-one has shed me. So I am waiting for the fruit to ripen and dreaming of ways to use it: mango-chili chutney, mango mohitos, mango ice-cream, mango topped burgers. I am dreaming quite actively actually, as it looks like soon I will be the proud owner of an embarrassment of mangoes!

Where Wonder Meets Wander

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