This.

Source, via A Cup of Jo

I saw this while I was trolling the blogosphere this morning and just had to share.

On another note, I know my posting has been nonexistent lately, but boy do I have a ton to catch up on around here.  Expect to see more of me in the coming days and weeks!

The Reason I Can't Get Anything Done...

...is this guy:

His name is Trigger and he is a big-time attention whore.  I have a boatload of s*** to accomplish in the next few weeks with packing, renovating the new house, and doing all the paperwork that comes with a move.  But Trigger is thwarting my best efforts.  I start packing a box, he climbs into it.  I shuffle through paint chips, he tries to eat them.  I sit down to type out an email to our agent, he sits on my lap blocking the screen.  If I ignore him or push him away, he climbs to the back of the sofa and sits on my head.  In short, nothing is getting done.

So what's worse?  Being lazy or being a crazy cat lady?  I'm honestly not sure, but for now I'm still going to blame Trigger.  He sets a bad example.

How A Door Almost Ended My Marriage

Or, "The Difficulty with Design"

Big news, everyone: Jeff and I just bought our first house!  We close escrow this week, and we're going to spend the rest of the month fixing it up before we move in.  The past few weeks have been a blur of signing disclosures, going over contracts, and daydreaming about paint chips and carpet samples.

Well, that's been MY past few weeks, anyway.  Jeff's have been spent signing where I tell him to, blindly trusting my decisions regarding contingencies and home warranties and...picking out our flooring, counters, and appliances.  On his own.  No, worse than on his own: he did it all with his contractor friend/best man Matt.

Now, I should mention that I actually don't mind doing all the paperwork for the move.  Yes, it gets stressful, but in all reality I'd be scrutinizing it just as much as I am now whether Jeff looked it over first or not.  I'm the paper-pusher in our relationship, and I (sometimes begrudgingly) accept that fact.  However...when Jeff came home one night last week and happily announced that he had decided on our carpet, our paint, the texture we'd do the walls, and the design of the interior doors I flipped the hell out.  It was not pretty.  The conversation went roughly like this:

Me:  "I was thinking we could do a dark taupe in the living room, with flecked brown carpet, and we'll remodel the kitchen in a year or so with dark hardwood floors and ecru-buttercup paint".  (Please note that this is the first time in my life I've ever used the phrase "ecru-buttercup paint".)  "What do you think?"
Jeff:  "Oh, about that, Matt and I decided we're going to do white in the kitchen and a really light tan in the living room.
Me:  "Okay, well we'll go to Home Depot this weekend and look."
Jeff:  "We already picked it all out.  We just have to order it."
Steam billowed forth from my ears.  I tried to remain calm.
Me:  "Jeff, I would really like to help decide how we redo the house."
Jeff:  "Well, you didn't care when we picked out the design for the doors."
Record scratch.  My eyes began to glow red.
Me:  "I'm sorry, who did what now?"
Jeff (all innocence and eagerness):  "Yeah, Matt picked out the doors for the interior, they have this cool arched design on them, and they go really great with the carpet we decided to get."
Me:  "WhyDon'tYouJustBuyAHouseWithMattAndYouTwoCanMakeAllYourDecisionsTogetherAndLiveHappilyEverAfter!  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarggghh!!!!!"

Really, really not pretty.  From there it dissolved into fits of "This is MY house, NOT Matt's!" and "You're ruining the whole experience for me!"

I know I over-reacted.  I am acutely aware of the fact that I have a tendency to overreact when things don't go the way I expect them to.  But seriously, even in hindsight, I think I had a right to be irked.  While I accept the paperwork and the decisions that come with purchasing a home, the light at the end of the tunnel was being able to decorate it, to make it mine--ok, ours--and finally have a place that's just right for us.  And I felt like Matt's tastes were being forced on me.  I do understand that, as a contractor, he knows what does and does not work in houses.  When he told me hardwood doesn't hold up well in kitchens and that the joist in the ceiling needs to be repaired (huh?) I listened.  But when Jeff starts turning over to him all decisions regarding paint color and linoleum-versus-tile, I think that's overstepping the boundaries.  At a certain point, the decisions are about preference and not functionality.  Right?

That night I made Jeff sleep on the far, far side of the bed.  We each faced separate walls and I may have pushed him once or twice when his snoring got loud--how dare he sleep so soundly when I was awake and fuming!  But in the light of day, we agreed to stop acting like five-year-olds arguing over a new toy, and make a trip to Home Depot together to check things out.

It started off rocky.  He wanted stone tile, I would vinyl wood-look.  He wanted beige carpet, I wouldn't budge from tan.  There was a moment where I stormed away from the paint chips wall in utter disgust that he couldn't agree to gray paint for the guest room.  Every decision seemed like an absolute deal-breaker, and I saw a fissure start to form in our otherwise sound relationship.

Eventually, though, we both began to take little steps.  If we couldn't meet in the middle, we would at least take turns winning.  He got his beige carpet (with flecks of brown--ha!).  I got my vinyl wood-look flooring, about six shades lighter than I preferred.  He still nixed the gray, but came to begrudgingly accept cafe latte.  Bit by bit, things began to get better.  The shining moment that sealed the deal was when he found the perfect shade of muted key lime green for the kitchen, and I miraculously agreed with him.  By the time we got home, we had (mostly) agreed on a color palette and flooring design.  We drank a glass of wine and tried to avoid pushing for more.

And it kind of hit me: that's what marriage is all about, isn't it?  It's not really about drinking coffee on the balcony or cooking dinner together.  It's about bringing together two totally separate points of view, two sides that seem impossible to merge and somehow, through compromise and open conversation, actually merging them.  I'm certain this is the first of many, many times we will look at each other and think "I don't know who you ARE right now and I can't believe you don't agree with me," and come away with a new understanding of what the other wants and needs, and some sort of mishmash compromise.  Come hell or high water, we are going to forge ahead and make a new identity that is not mine or his, but ours.

But we still can't agree on the doors.

Babies

Yep, I'm going there.  Y'all, I have a serious case of babies on the brain and I'm horrified not afraid to admit it.

Immediately after the wedding--as in, the day we got back from our honeymoon--the dreaded question began surfacing, randomly at first and with increasing frequency ever since.  "When are you two having kids?" had replaced the engagement question of "Where's the honeymoon?".  We had JUST passed one major milestone in our lives and people (especially our mothers) were already desparate for the next.  Even near strangers couldn't restrain themselves from asking this (incredibly personal, by the way) question.  And it terrified me.  Jeff and I have both always wanted kids, but honestly the ink wasn't even dry on the marriage license yet!  We wanted to wait awhile and enjoy married life with just the two of us before rushing into such a life-changing step.

And then everything changed.  Let me lay out a little timeline for you that might help explain:

In late November, we had a birth control snafu that caused us both to be absolutely convinced I was pregnant.  It turned out to be a false alarm, but the thing that struck us both was that, instead of horrified fear of an unplanned pregnancy, we were...ecstatic.  Jeff even went so far as trying to talk to my stomach so the "baby" could hear him. (I know, there are no words for how insane that is.  I am aware.)  When the tests all came back negative, I honestly felt like a raging lunatic.  But also, I felt really really sad.  I wanted that baby, and Jeff felt the same.  We began serious discussions about having children soon.

In December I went off birth control.  Now, something you have to understand about Jeff and me is that we are absolutely paralized by the fear of making decisions.  Especially big, irrevocable, life-changing decisions.  So we "decided" that I would go off the pill, but that we would try not to get pregnant just the same.  Totally logical, right?  We passed into early January under this arrangement.

In mid-January, baby fever reached epidemic heights.  We wanted babies and we wanted them NOW.  So we decided to start seriously trying to get pregnant.  We brainstormed baby names and said things like, "This may be the last beer I'll have for nine months!" nearly every night.

And then...we spent a weekend with three couples, all of whom have kids under the age of three.  And we loved the kids, had an absolute ball with them.  But their parents were another story altogether.  With their arms full of toys and diapers and their eyes full of crazy, they warned us--PLEADED with us--to wait to have kids.  "It's not worth it!", they said.  "Not yet!  Wait and enjoy the quiet time!"  Their lunatic desparation swayed us.  We decided to once again try not to get pregnant.

And now.  Now it is early February, and all I can think about is babies.  A very large part of me thinks that if I'm so easily swayed and indecisive about this whole thing then I am in no way ready for it.  Another, smaller but louder, part of me just incessantly screams "BABIES BABIES BABIES BABIES!"  Le sigh.

So, for now, no babies are in residence in our home or in my belly.  And who knows how long it will stay that way.  Please, tell me I'm not the only crazy one yo-yo'ing on this most important decision.

Honeymoon Part 5: Exploring the City

For the last part of our honeymoon, we flew from the David Airport to the Panama City domestic airport, where we had arranged for a taxi to take us to our hotel.  It was a short 15-minute drive back to the B&B where we were greeted by a very friendly bilingual staff and comfortable, though modest, accomodations.  Our hotel, La Estancia, was really reasonably priced, so we were surprised by the level of service.  They had even held our luggage in their storage room for the three days we were in Boquete so that we wouldn't have to bring it with us on the small prop plane.

This mural in the hotel lobby was cute and cheerful, two words that definitely describe the inn.

Our room was nothing fancy, but it was cozy and we were lucky enough to get our own bathroom.  It looked out at trees filled with birds that chirped at us all day.

As soon as we settled in, we decided to take the quick hike up Cerro Ancon, the hill the hotel was situated on.  It was a paved walk and not too difficult, but it offered all kinds of bird and bug sightings (sadly no monkeys, which I was hoping to see).  At the top of the hill we were treated to amazing panoramic views of the city: old town, downtown, and the canal.

A toucan perched in a tree on the hill.  We named him Sam.

At the top of the hill, overlooking the juncture between "Casco Viejo" (the old neighborhood) and the modern downtown Panama City.  So many skyscrapers were being built that I can't imagine what it will look like even a year from now!

After about ten minutes at the top of Cerro Ancon, it started to rain.  Just a little at first, but we learned our lesson about a little rain in Boquete and began to hightail it down the hill.  Halfway down we got caught in a downpour and did our best to stay under trees as we ran back to the hotel.  When we got there our clothes were soaked, and the storm was really starting to roll in.  We walked into the common area and listened to the rain and thunder out the window.

As we stared through the open sliding doors at the lightning, Jeff spotted a movement in the trees.  We moved out to the covered balcony to investigate.  I was convinced it was just a squirrel, but as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I saw that it was, quite clearly, a sloth.  I was so excited and motioned to some of the other guests in the room to come look.  One of the desk workers came out to see what all the commotion was about.  I excitedly told him "It's a sloth in the tree!  Look, he's eating!" to which he replied, "Oh, him again."   He laughed at my funny North American interests and headed back inside.  I continued to watch as the perizoso (Spanish for sloth) reached one lazy paw out to grab leaves from the trees as he hung draped over the branch.  His face was cute, like a little doll, but the rest of him was sort of unremarkable, long and shapeless like those monkey stuffed animals with the velcro hands.  It was too dark to get any pictures, but he looked just like this:


Is it wrong if I say they all look alike to me?

Eventually the novelty wore off and we gave up our prime balcony locations to a couple of older women who were dying to see.  We had planned to go out to dinner but the rain was INSANE by this point...I have honestly never seen rain this intense in my entire life.  We decided it would be better to stay in, and pay someone else to go out in the rain to bring our dinner.  The front desk helped us order a pizza and when it arrived we very generously tipped the motorcyclist (!) who brought it, and settled in with it and mini-bottles of wine from the honor bar at $1 each.

With a little travel, a lot of rain, and $1 wine, you too can look this crazy on your honeymoon.

Staying in with pizza may not sound especially exotic or luxurious, but let me tell you: after all the travel, hiking, and exploring we'd been doing, it totally hit the spot.  This was one of my favorite nights in Panama, actually, because it was the first night we really felt like us, and not like the National Geographic development team.  Oh, and Jeff saw this on our window:

which totally made his night.  He has a thing for lizards.  (Sorry, he corrected me: this is a gecko, not a lizard.  I have no idea how they're different, but apparently it is an important distinction.  My apologies to the gecko community.)

The next day we awoke early, to the sound of birds outside our window and a light drizzle of rain.  We checked with the front desk and were assured the storm had passed, so we called a cab and ventured out to explore Casco Viejo.

We were following a walking tour of Casco Viejo outline in our travel guide.  We asked the cab driver to drop us at our first stop, the Plaza de la Independencia, where we saw this beautiful old church:

and waited out a short rainshower in the historical museum, which was actually really interesting and gave us a lot of insight into the country's history and culture.

Next we hoofed it over to the Plaza Bolivar.  This was a small square with a large statue of Simon Bolivar in the middle, and surrounded by old-fashioned-looking buildings:

Behind the whole thing was the Iglesia de San Francisco de Asisi, with this amazing artwork over the double doors:

We stopped for lunch at a tapas cafe, and lingered over octopus carpaccio and three kinds of ceviche.  The rain was coming down a bit harder at this point but, fortified by wine, we ventured onward.  We walked along the Pacific Ocean

and meandered the streets until I stopped Jeff at the sight of an ice cream shop sign in a window.  Not just any ice cream: this was the French ice cream shop that was touted in our guidebook as the best ice cream in all of Panama.  We obviously had to stop in.

And we were not disappointed!  That dulce de leche ice cream was the smoothest, thickest, creamiest ice cream I've ever had.  I'd give up my pinky finger to have some right now.  I may give up my whole hand to have some every day.  (Good thing it's a Panama boutique shoppe, and I won't have to live up to either of those bargains).

With a lot of difficult on the unnamed streets, we finally found our last destination: Plaza de Francia.  This was an absolutely gorgeous square with an arcade that overlooked the Pacific Ocean, and old brick storefronts built into the curved wall beneath.

We spent some time perusing the art museums and taking in the view.  I bought a necklace for $3 from a street vendor who swore it took his mother a month to make.  We passed through the bougainvillea-covered archway and made our way back to our starting point, Plaza de la Independencia.  Along the way we passed random cafes and galleries, streets too narrow for a car to pass through, and cute little parks:

Finally, exhausted, we hailed a cab and headed straight back to our hotel, where we ordered Chinese food delivery (yes, really.  Stop judging.) and enjoyed another peaceful night listening to the rain.

The next day, we hit up the Canal.  Jeff was way more excited about this than I was, but I have to admit it was a truly amazing sight.  Armed with the knowledge of its construction that we gleaned from the museum in Casco Viejo, I couldn't help but admire the feat of engineering (yes, really), that is still so amazingly active today.

We toured the full Canal museum and had lunch on the rooftop deck buffet restaurant.  We were only there a couple of hours, but I really felt like we got the whole Canal experience...or at least, as much as you can without actually passing through in a boat, which we were unable to do.

As we left the museum we were approached by a hoard of taxi drivers offering to give us rides anywhere within the city.  It was still early, so Jeff and I struck up a conversation with one of the less aggressive drivers and asked if he'd mind driving us to the artisan's market and ruins 45 minutes away in Panama Viejo (the old old neighborhood).  He of course agreed, and gave us a tour of Panama City as he drove, telling us all about the history, different neighborhoods, and everpresent skyscrapers.  When he dropped us off at the artisan's market he even offered to wait and drive us back, without charging us for the wait. 

We spent about half an hour inside and bought a couple of trinkety tchotchkes to take home.  But ultimately the aggressiveness of the sellers and the oppressive heat of the air conditioning-deficient building drove us out and into the park across the street.

Oh sorry, did I say park?  I  meant amazing culturally significant ruins.  This was the site of the first Spanish colonization in Central America, and the capital of Panama until it was burned to the ground by pirates (pirates!) in the nineteenth century.  The grounds were gorgeous, and we were even able to walk in and among the ruins.

We had planned to spend over an hour here, but the humidity was IN-sane.  Seriously, I have never felt anything like it.  We felt like the sky was physically pressing against us, and it soon became too much.  We had our cab driver take us back to the hotel for another night of--you guessed it!--delivery pizza and $1 wine.

The next morning we had to leave at 10:00 for our flight home.  We got up for an early breakfast and as we sat on the balcony eating our toast and guayabana yogurt, we heard a rustling in the trees.  We looked up to see scores of monkeys descending from the roof of the hotel into the branches around us!  We watched them jump from branch to branch, eat their breakfast of bananas, and stretch out after their meal.  They played together in the trees for almost an hour before quickly and unaminously returning to their home on the other side of the hill. 

It was an amazing way to spend our last morning in Panama.  We finally felt as though we had seen and done nearly everything we could, and we were ready to go home.  As our plane took off from the Panama City International airport, we looked back down at the jungle, the canal, and the towering skyscrapers and breathed a contented, blissful sigh.

Honeymoon Part 4: Mountain Adventure

On our second day in paradise, Jeff woke up feeling a little funny.  As we sipped our coffee and planned our day, he began to look more and more miserable.   We had decided to spend the day hiking, and were looking into a mountain bike tour, when his stomach started to really hurt.  Jeff can sometimes be, shall we say, a bit dramatic when he doesn't feel well, so at first I wasn't too concerned.  But soon he was curled up in bed, sweaty and pale, and I really started to worry.  I walked up to the main house to ask Barry and Jane what I should do, and after a brief discussion about what he'd eaten, we informally diagnosed him with food poisoning caused by some grocery-store tamales he'd picked up on our way to Boquete the day before.  They were so nice that they packaged up some fresh-baked bread for me to take to Jeff in hopes it would help.

We spent the whole day in bed--and not in a good way.  Poor Jeff was so sick that it quickly became apparent that we would not, in fact, be doing any hiking or biking that day, or really even leave the inn.  I felt terrible for him, but at least, if he was going to get sick on part of our honeymoon, this was the place to do it.  The bungalow was as comfortable as being at home, and even laying in bed we had an amazing view to enjoy and birds to listen to outside our window.  By the evening he was feeling better, and we took a quick drive to a restaurant down the road.  Barry and Jane recommended Sancocho soup for an upset stomach (a Panamanian cure-all similar to how we use chicken soup).  The restaurant was amazing, and the soup did the trick: Jeff was better by the time we went to bed that night.

The next morning we woke up and all was well.  Good thing, too, because we had scheduled a zipline tour for early that morning!  We met up with the tour in town and took a bus ride up the mountain, on increasingly rough and winding roads, until we finally reached the summit where we were outfitted with ziplining gear and given instructions on how not to plummet to our deaths:

Stylish, no?

From here we hiked up and down dirt trails while taking in amazing views of the volcano, until we reached the first platform.  Before the day was over we would reach thirteen platforms, cruising along twelve cables high above the forest floor.

Jeff, being the gentleman that he is, insisted  that I go first.  He had never done this before, and was eyeballing the rickety wood platform and suspended cable with more than a little mistrust.  He reasoned that, since I had been ziplining before (almost a decade ago in Costa Rica), I would be less nervous and could show him how it was done.  Um, that was all well and good in theory, but the Costa Rican ziplines looked nothing like this!  These were much higher and longer, and I was terrified.

When it was my turn, my heart started racing and my stomach was doing flip-flops.  I asked the guide once again when and how much to brake.  He had me pull the cable down using both hands and he looped the steel bracket to the cable, then hooked the three carabiners from my harness to the bracket.  I leaned back, held the bracket with my left hand and the cable behind me with my right, and lifted my feet off the platform.  He held me in place, suspended from the cable with only his hand in front of the bracket to keep me from swinging off into the jungle.

"Ready?" he asked in English. 
"Si," I answered shakily.
He pulled back as if to let me go, when a voice crackled over his walkie talkie "Amarillo en dos, espera espera!", "Yellow on two, wait wait!"

"Whoops," my guide said.  "Not ready yet."  I took a deep breath and looked at him warily.  We waited another few seconds and then he said "Ready? Go!" and rather unceremoniously let go of the bracket and sent me flying.

I soared over the jungle below, trying to take in the sights but mostly trying to keep myself from twisting and turning and figure out how I was going to land without crashing into the rapidly approaching tree.  Before I could become really frightened, however, I reached the second platform and "braked" by pulling down on the cable behind me with my right hand.  I wanted to wait and watch Jeff's approach, but there was no time: this guide handed me off to one on the other side of the platform, who quickly and expertly hooked me up to the second cable and with a "One, two, three!" sent me soaring again.

I rushed from one cable to the next, until I reached the sixth platform, the point of no return.  This was the last platform that was built on solid ground (the remainder were built into the sides of massive trees).  After this, the only way out was to keep going forward.  The guide here asked me if I wanted to quit and turn back.  I turned to see Jeff coming in for a landing behind me and stopped to watch.  The guide tried to hurry me along.  "Wait," I told him, "that's my husband!" (which, by the way, was the first time I was able to properly use that in a sentence in a non-contrived way, and made me smile immensely).  I watched him approach the platform, grinning broadly.  When he landed I asked him if wanted to keep going; he just nodded, still smiling.  I turned back to the guide.  "Okay," I said.  "We're good."

The rest of the cables went quickly as we climbed higher and higher into the canopy.  The last three were the most exhilarating: the longest was a quarter-mile long, so long and surrounded by trees that you couldn't see the next platform until you nearly crashed into it.  The next cable had us soaring impossibly high over the valley:

Finally, we had reached the end.  The last cable was short and steep, and planted us back on terra firma just outside the door of the resort's restaurant and bar:

The whole group posed for a photo with our guides, and were presented with certificates of bravery:

And, at long last, we reached our real goal: beer!

We savored our beer, looked at photos the guides had taken during the tour, and chatted with a cute couple from North Carolina that had just gotten engaged.  As we listened to them talk about dates and venues, Jeff and I toasted to being done with the wedding planning!

We made our way back into town, and though we had plans to hike and bike ride, the rain had started again and didn't look like it would let up anytime soon.  Plan B was a drive throughout the Chiriqui Province in our rented car.  Despite the bad weather we got great views of waterfalls, creeks, and mountains:

We went for a short hike in the national park when the weather let up a little, but were forced back to the car by muddy roads and increasing rain.

And finally we made our way back to the inn.  We went out to dinner, to a Peruvian restaurant that didn't look like much from the outside but boasted the best grilled octopus in town and did not disappoint.  We ate and drank wine, and returned to our bungalow at 10 o'clock, exhausted from our long and thrilling day.

The next morning we woke up early for a coffee tour with Barry.  He showed us around the estate and taught us about the history and manufacturing of coffee.  I was truly inspired by his laid-back attitude, his complete lack of desire to become rich or poweful, and his yearning only for a simple and beautiful life.  It really seemed to me like he had it all figured out.

Back at the house, Jane took some pictures of us together around the inn.  She said that most couples don't get many pictures of themselves together while traveling, and she likes to make sure they get at least a few while staying there.  See?  They really have thought of everything!

They gave us some tips for the final leg of our journey, places to eat and tour in Panama City.  The we bid them a fond farewell and took the hour-long scenic drive back to David, where we boarded another prop plane to Panama City to begin the last leg of our Panama adventure.

Honeymoon Part 3: Mountain Trainquility

Ready for an insane amount of pictures?  I think that the most gorgeous part of our honeymoon deserves a picture-heavy post, don't you?

On Friday we checked out of our all-inclusive resort hotel and made our way inland and upland, to the mountainous town of Boquete in central Panama.  This was the resort I had learned about from that WeddingBee post I mentioned, and the part of the trip I was most excited about.

Getting there wasn't exactly an easy trip, either.  We had to take a taxi from the resort for that two-hour drive back to Panama City, where we dropped some of our luggage off at our last hotel so that we wouldn't have to pay to check it.  The taxi then took us to Panama's domestic airport, which was even smaller than the international one we had flown into.  The waiting room was the entire airport, and our luggage was all checked by hand with nary an x-ray machine in sight.  After a short wait, we boarded a small prop plane and braced ourselves for the rough hour-long flight into David Airport.  At least we had gorgeous views as we flew under the thick cloud cover:

In David we rented a car and Jeff drove out of the city and into the rural area of Boquete (about an hour away).  The drive was easy and peaceful, nothing like the crowded city streets we had just left.  The road wound up hills and through forests and farms with more and more picturesque views the further we went.  Finally we arrived in Boquete, a small and quaint town filled with American, Canadian, and European expats.  Our hotel was just outside of the town center, situated up a hill on a dirt road.  The hotel we stayed at was The Coffee Estate Inn, a small boutique B&B with only three bungalows on the property.  The owners, Jane and Barry, have done an amazing job of making a heaven-on-earth retreat away from it all.  We stayed in the most secluded bungalow, the Jewel, at the bottom of the hill:

Don't let the dense vegitation fool you, though: the bungalow itself was comfortable, light, and just modern enough to suit our tastes:

The dining area overlooking the forests

The kitchenette, fully stocked with estate-grown coffee and homemade breads and pastries

 

A magically self-refilling fruit basket of bananas, oranges, and papaya

Fresh flowers graced the living room and bedroom every day

The view from our bed.  No, seriously, how amazing is that?

And the view from the other side of the bedroom

Our private patio/balcony was the perfect place to sip wine in the evening and coffee in the morning while looking out at Volcan Baru and the valley below

Jane gave us a tour of the bungalow and clued us into the layout of the property, then left us to our own devices.  We unpacked and settled in, and then decided to walk the property to explore all of its touted Garden-of-Eden qualities for ourselves.  We were seriously not disappointed.  Some of the highlights of our estate walk included:

Hibiscus greeted us as we stepped out of our front door.  I was beyond excited, but these paled in comparison to what was to come

 

Barry later told us the names of these flowers, but I've forgotten.  I do remember that they catch rain water and make a soap-like substance that you can use to wash with.  Their name in some way involves the word "shampoo" for that reason.

Just starting out on the trail, crossing a homemade bridge.  Check out that crazy-tall bamboo!

 

Jeff on the trail, overlooking the forests and mountains

Recognize these from our in-room floral arrangement?  That's right, all of the flowers are grown on the estate!

A bee (or something) checking out this pretty flower

Jeff taking a break on a log

Hey look, there really were two of us on this trip!  Finally found a spot to take a timed photo together.

For some reason I was fascinated by this funny little mushroom colony.

Making our way uphill

Stopping to smell the...um...spiky red flowers?

Jeff looks suspicious.  These flowers allegdly contain mini-bananas (that aren't edible!)

Those tree roots are insane!

Okay, nothing remarkable here.  I just really love this picture of Jeff.  ♥

More flowers on our way back to the bungalow.

Guys, seriously, I took about a thousand more pictures on this walk around the inn, but I was afraid if I posted them all I'd break the internet.  Check out the hotel's website for even more amazing floral discoveries!  (And no, they're not paying me for this rave review.  But if you're reading, Jane and Barry, I'd take some of that delicious coffee you guys make as payment for this ringing endorsement!  Just saying.)

At the end of our walk, it started to sprinkle.  I've travelled to Costa Rica before, and I know better than to take my chances that it will stay "just a sprinke", so I told Jeff we had to RUN back to the Bungalow.  Good thing we did, because halfway there the clouds opened, we were enveloped by fog, and it began to pour down on us.  We grabbed each other's hands and sprinted the rest of the way down the hill, laughing as we entered our cozy front door.  We stopped in our tracks, however, when we saw Jane setting our table for dinner.  We had reserved in advance the fancy "date night" dinner, served privately in our living room, but I had no idea it would look like this:

Even the napkins were blooming!

Jane greeted us, then put the finishing touches on the floral arrangements, lit some candles, and told us Barry would be down in an hour or so with dinner.  We opened some wine that we had brought with us (and Jeff had a bottle of imported beer) and settled down to wait.

Jeff kicking back in the living room with his fancy-pants beer

Later, drinking wine on the balcony.  Check out that fog!

Before we knew it, Barry walked down the hill carrying the most mouth-watering tray of food I've ever seen.  We got the rack of lamb, and let me tell you, it was the BEST meal I've ever had in my life, hands-down.

Nom nom nom!

We relished every bite, and afterwards had a small glass of the estate's home-grown and home-made coffee liqueur which was just insanely tasty and sweet and perfect.  We tried to buy some to take home with us, but they were all out.  I almost cried, it was seriously THAT good.

mmmm coffee liqueur

I still have no idea how we did it, but we managed to finish every bite of that delicious dinner.  When we melted into bed that night, we couldn't stop marvelling over how lucky we were to find this place.  When we woke up, we drank (estate-grown, amazingly delicous, sweet and rich) coffee on the balcony while enjoying the view.

And that was just day one in Boquete!  Readers, listen, if you're ever travelling in Panama, stay at the Coffee Estate Inn.  If you're ever travelling, anywhere at all, make it be to Panama and stay at the Coffee Estate Inn.  Even if you don't have the vacation time to spare, quit your job so you can go and stay at this place.  It really is that good.  Jeff and I already have plans to go back for future anniversaries, and we wouldn't dream of staying anywhere else.

Okay, I'm off my unpaid-advertisement soapbox now.  Up next: an unexpected change of plans, and the rest of our time on the mountain!