Things that don´t happen back home

Last night, my traveling buddy Oliver and I were eating dinner at one of the many restaurants that line the main strip in Cahuita. As we sat, perusing the menu for something tasty, I was startled by a loud clang coming from the direction of the kitchen. It sounded like someone had sent a heap of metal pots crashing to the floor. I quickly spun around and followed the glare of every other person in the restaurant to the rafters in one corner of the ceiling. Two small furry creatures were perched there. They had been discovered and like to runaway mobsters were quickly planning their escape. Rats! was my first thought. One of these critters was trying to make its way down the wall to the floor and as I continued to stare, my eye was drawn to a swift furball scampering towards me. I managed to see its furry coat and bare, pinkish tail and immediately raised my feet from the floor to the seat of my chair. A couple sitting at a nearby table must have seen my look of disgust, because they reassured me that what I had just seen scurrying through the restaurant where I was hoping to enjoy a meal were not rats... they were possums! And, I guess on the echelon of creatures that you don´t want sampling the ingredients of your upcoming meal in a restaurant´s kitchen, possums are one step less disgusting (one step up) than the more familiar, disease-ridden rats. That was my rationale, at least and what kept me sitting in my seat at this establishment. Throughout dinner, the possums made several more appearances, trying to poke through a hole in the ceiling that had been covered with a garbage bag. One of the waitresses nonchalantly sauntered over with a broom and shooed them away. She shook her head in frustration, like she was waving away pesky children. I am definitely adding this to the list of thing that do not happen back home...

We left Cahuita today and with it, the Bates Motel, which I was starting to grow rather fond of, though it had absolutely no charm to speak of. Right before leaving, I returned my key for my deposit. The owner, looked at me and asked, ¨What´s your name again?¨ I answered him, expecting him to say, ¨So long, e!¨at the very least, maybe some well-wishes for my future travels. Instead, he just gave me a cold hard stare and said absolutely nothing. Since it was apparent that there was really nothing more to be said, I made my way down the few stairs outside and headed for the train station.

I am now in Puerto Viejo and sadly, the day has been rather rainy... very, very hard rain. I did manage to squeeze in a few hours of beach and sun, before the sky was covered by a persistent gray blanket that is still hovering above. I´m hoping that it clears by tomorrow, because I am planning on renting a bicycle and riding the 13km to Manzanillo, a smaller town with a reputation for beautiful beaches.