Zipping through the Rainforest in Costa Rica

At Puerto Quepos, Ken had signed us up to take a walking tour through the Manuel Antonio National Park to the picturesque white sand crescent beach. However, Lynn, who had arranged the tour, took one look at my strap-on brace for a broken ankle and torn tendon, and tried to discourage us. She said the tour involved considerable walking on uneven hilly paths through the rain forest and then down the hill to the beach. She acted as if I could not complete the journey. Several days after the trip when we were taking an exercise course together, I learned that she had broken her leg bone above the ankle and really thought I should not attempt the walk because I might aggravate my condition. As the old saying goes, "It takes one to know one."

When Lanny and Marsha told us about their independent zipline tour with Richard and Barb, whom we had met and became friends with last year, Ken asked if we could join them. (The Website for Canopy Safari is www.canopysafari.com.) Ken had a zipline adventure near Boone, North Carolina, with his mother, sister, niece and nephew two years ago while I was teaching a summer session at the college, and was sure that I could do it with an injured ankle. If the logic of this decision escapes you as it did me, go figure. However, because my mother-in-law had done it, I had no excuse not to try to ziplining. What I did not know was that I was in for the adventure of a lifetime. Zipping is the only (and best) way to view the rainforest.

Our guide, Big Al (just call me Al), and our driver, George, picked us up after we got off the tender and drove us to the company's officefice in downtown Puerto Quepos, which is about six blocks square and a little rundown, we signed waivers that released the tour company from any responsibility of the risks we had voluntarily agreed to take. Big Al also warned us, "We make no effort to please you because this tour is so great." The tour's itinerary promised we would zip through the topical rainforest canopy and over the trails far below on 10 ziplines, two repel lines, a suspension bridge and a Tarzan swing that guaranteed a thrilling adventure. The tour began and ended at the group's private restaurant "La Quebrada," a 45-minute drive from the port.

On our drive, we crossed 23,000 acres of African palm trees that were planted east to west so that they received maximum sunlight. The trees grow one foot a year and are recycled every 25 years. McDonald's used to use palm oil to fry its French Fries but has now stopped because it is a saturated fat. Maybe this fact rather than heredity is responsible for my high cholesterol level that requires a daily dose of a Zocor-type generic drug. Starbucks benefits from the country's export of three different kinds of coffee: shade, open and organic. But the country's biggest export is the chip for the Intel processing system of many computers.

Our van crossed several "oh, my God" bridges that consisted of only wooden planks with no side rails and even crossed a river with no bridge. We did see a car stuck in the one of the rivers. After we arrived at the private park, we toured the butterfly garden and the serpentarium that housed venomous and highly venomous snakes. Many of the snakes were very attractive but we were glad they were comfortably resting in their glass cages. Then we were invited to walk back to the road to apply our bug repellent before our guides strapped us into our harnesses, tightened the helmets on our head and gave us gloves to wear. We received our instructions on how to cross our legs, lean backwards and control our speed when repelling.

After climbing 10 to 15 minutes up steps in the heat and humidity, we reached the first platform. How can I describe what it feels like to sail through the air over the dense forest canopy suspended from a reinforced steel cable? Check a thesaurus for all the synonyms of "indescribable" and you may have the answer. I started out going forward but halfway across always seemed to turn backward. Out catchers told me that it was easier to catch us when we sailed onto the next platform backwards. I was certainly glad that a helmet was a required part of our gear because I felt the vibrations on it when my head scrapped the cable as I turned around. The gloves ensured that we were not burnt by the metal on our harness straps. On several lines, I yelled "wee-wee" like the pig in the Geico commercial but while fun, my delighted screaming irritated my throat. By the final run, we had all become pros.

After we zipped into the restaurant area and shed our equipment, we were treated to outstanding local cuisine, consisting of rice and chicken, black beans, plantain and a coleslaw with tomatoes. Even people who claimed they did not like beans raved about the black beans. While eating, we were treated to a premiere viewing of the CD that the company's professional photographer had made of us. The fact that some of the photographs were highly unflattering did not deter anyone in our group of seven from contributing $15 each to purchase our group's CD that would be waiting for us at 4:30 p.m. at the company's office.

On our way back to the port, we got to know the other five passengers in our van better. A couple who lived near Stockholm, Sweden, and a woman from Olso, Norway, were staying at a hostel that they said was very basic but the price was right. Sitting in front of us were two women who had met when they both lived in interior countries in Western Canada. Olivia was visiting her friend Sharon, who had come on vacation to Costa Rica several years before, then returned with another friend to take an intensive month-long Spanish course. She and her friend discussed moving there and finally did so. While the friend lasted only five months before moving back to Canada, Sharon found employment as a bartender in Puerto Quepo, found employment as a bartender and met a guide at Manuel Antonio National Park outside of town, who is now the father of her two- and one-half month old son, Cayden. Sharon's mother retired and moved to Costa Rica to be near her daughter and grandson. Sometimes a real person's life can be an incredible adventure.

Thanks to our fellow travelers from Norway and Sweden who wanted to be dropped off at the beach, we were treated to a drive through the tourist area outside the town to the wide beach with sparking turquoise waters and lots of appreciative sun bathers and swimmers. After we returned to the tour group's office, we went in search of 1820 coffee. When we asked a man for directions, he took us to a supermarket and told us that he had made the brilliant decision to move from Alaska to Costa Rica. When we returned of the office, our CD was ready for us so we can relive the adventure of a lifetime anytime that we desire.

Just Along for the Ride in Nicaragua

Nicaragua is a country with "emerging tourism" that is about 30 years behind Costa Rica. San Juan del Sur became a tourist town only 10 years ago and the cruise ships started coming shortly after, but only about 13 a year. The talk on the street is that Royal Caribbean has plans to build a dock so the ships do not have to emply tenders. Most tourists are Americans, some of which have stayed and started businesses that provided employment for the locals. The real proof that organized and sanitized tourism does not reign supreme is that the people on the tourism brochures look like your next-door neighbors in natural poses and not beautiful models artfully staged.

In her presentation, Deborah, our port lecturer, told us that Nicaragua is a poor country of 6 million people with a checked past subject to several military dictatorships that was taken over by the Sandnoistas in 1979. Toilets are few and far between. Items to take ashore included toilet paper, hand sanitizer, raincoats to prepare for the quickly changeable weather conditions and water. Education is not compulsory so we might find children who have been sent by their parents to beg for money on the streets. While she told us not to expect things to be painted and pretty, we found many things to be beautiful and bright.

When we exited the tender with Sergio and Noemi, Noemi negotiated in Spanish with a tour manager who approached us for an eight-hour excursion in a four-wheel drive van to wherever we wanted to go, time permitting. However, our guide, Carlos, did not speak English. The old expression of "we're just along for the ride" became Ken's and my motto for the day with us paying our share of the cost and depending on translations by Noemi, originally from Venezuela, and Sergio, born and raised in Mexico. Yes, it was an interesting way to learn about a new country that led to another resolution for when we return home in May--learn Spanish. I think that Ken will be better at it than I am because language classes in high school and college were only courses for me to suffer through to meet the requirements for graduation. (Okay, I was inducted into the Latin Honorary in college but what country speaks Latin?) Ken can probably use the Rosetta Stone but I will need a face-to-face course with an extremely patient teacher.

Our guide showed us the official red and black flag with the letters FSLN of the Sandonistas that most vehicles carried for when the police stopped them. The officers tended to find something wrong with the driver or vehicle if no flag was displayed. The government now requires the citizens to purchase visas to travel outside the country. Many Nicaraguans would like to work in construction jobs in Costa Rica but now that country requires them to leave a deposit at the border of $100, which will be returned when they return but is a sum that many residents cannot afford.

We traveled on a simple, two-lane highway on our trip to Granada. Our guide explained that many accident occurred, especially at night because there were no lights, the animals were allowed to wander freely, the scenery was monotonous so drivers fell asleep, and the drivers took unwise chances to pass slower vehicles. We watched men climb onto the back of the crowded local buses to enter them eventually through the back door as other passengers exited. The humble houses along the road were well taken care of and painted bright shades of purple, aqua, blue,lime, terracotta and gold. The lawns were well tended with no garbage. The cows looked healthier than the ones in Costa Rica, which seemed to be the Slimfast diet, thanks to the thick sugar syrup they were fed to plumb them up.

Our first stop was to take photographs of the Concepcion and Maderas Volcanoes that seemed to be floating in the center of Lake of Nicaragua. Here we saw signs of what could be ugly Americans with empty bottles and cans littering the shore. Our second stop was near the small town of Catarina to take a photograph of the beautiful Apoyo Lagoon. In the town, vendors were barbecuing chicken on the street corners, and Ken purchased a local, white, collared shirt and laced in the front. Another resolution for Ken is always to try on clothes before buying because this shirt turned out to be too small.

The feature attraction of our trip was the Parque National Volcan Masaya with the Ninderi and Masayan volcanoes with an entrance fee of $4.50 per person for nonresidents. While the Santiago Crater is still active, the last eruption was in 1517. It was the site for sacrificing children and virgins. When the Spaniards arrived in 1529, they gave the natives the choice of converting to Christianity or being sacrificed. The Spaniards erected the cross at the top crater to exorcise the demons of Hell. We were warned to spend only 20 minutes in the in the Carter area because of the gas emissions that could irritate the eyes and respiratory tracts. The security regulations also advised that "in the case of rock expulsion, you can protect yourself under the car." After too many visits to the Panorama Buffet and the Club Restaurant, we were not sure we would fit! While I refrained from climbing the uneven steps to the look-out but Ken told me that two young ladies asked to take his picture while he was climbing.

Our next stop was to be a cruise of around Las Isletas in Lake Nicaragua,one of North America's largest fresh-water lakes. This chain of 365 tiny, palm-tree covered islands, one for each day of the year, was created by the volcanic activity of the Mombacho Volcano. But when we arrived at the lake, the skies opened for a downpour so we decided to forgo the tour to protect the cameras. Carlos drove us to the main square that was busy with locals and tourists on a lazy Sunday afternoon. By the time we walked around the square, the sun was shining brightly. We talked with Mark and Susan, who gave the Princess tour of the Las Isleta rave reviews. We learned that we could buy an island for as little as $140,000 and build our dream home on our own private island. One owner found his island too small for a home so he turned it over to monkeys who entertained the tourists.

Rather than take a tour of the lake, Carlos suggested that we return to San Juan del Sur, his hometown, for an experience we would never forget. Of course, we were game for this invitation. Once there Carlos drove us through the neighborhood where many politicians owned large, luxurious, well-maintained homes. While the 4-four drive van had air conditioning, Carlos turned it off while we were climbing the hill to the second largest statue of Jesus in the world. While I have not personally seen the one in Rio de Janeiro, but have that city on my travel wish list, I was overwhelmingly impressed by this rendition of the Savior. We walked up the curving steep steps to the platform surrounding the statue. From every angle, this work of art was magnificent.

Carlos told us the wonderful story of how the Jesus in ti Confio came to be. The original cross on the hill top, that now lay flat on the balcony, seemed to be made of aluminum pipe. A man from Costa Rica was involved in a horrible accident in San Juan del Sur and truly believed he would die. When he defied the odds and lived, he provided the funding to have the statue built. The $2 entrance fee is used for the church's charities so the Jesus in ti Confio is the gift that keeps on giving.

After driving down the hill, Carlos remembered our request to purchase beer and stopped at a supermarket where we not only bought cerveza Victoria, a delicious addition to Ken's "Beers of the World Tour," but also stocked up on Flor del Cana, a rum produced in Nicaragua, and a bottle of wine for me, for fewer than $20 a couple. Ken has since declared the beer worthy of its national status and the rum "drinkable but not remarkable."

When Carlos dropped us off at the tenders, the men wanted to rush back on the ship with their precious purchases. Noemi and I decided to add to the local economy by shopping at the market the locals had set up for our passengers. Here I bought a T-shirt for Ken that actually fit him and a lovely, long cotton skirt to replace the one that I had failed to pack but had specially purchased for this trip for when we traveled in hot, Islamic countries that wanted a woman's knees covered. What I appreciated most about my purchase was the about 10-year-old daughter of the owner who told me in several times in English that the skirt was a "good buy." In the future, she should have a lucrative career in marketing.

Shortly after 5 p.m., we decided to make out way to the tender area before the last tender at 5:30 p.m. As we approached the boat, the crew member in charge of the set-up committee asked us what were are room numbers and wrote them with a black marker on his arm. "I think you are the two last people to come back," he replied, "so I will telephone the ship that you are on your way." I knew that Ken would have no problem believing that I kept shopping until the last minute. Noemi and I just hoped that they were not making an announcement on board for us to call the purser's desk because we had not checked in. So after the crew members loaded all the table, water containers and paper cups, we sailed back in our own personal "water taxi." As the crew members helped us onto the ship, we thanked them for our private limousine ride and told them we would like to do it again in the future. Yes, we really were along for the ride! It was a perfect ending to a perfect day!

Panama Canal: Transiting a Fantastic Feat of Engineering

A Man. A Plan. A Canal. Panama. A perfect palindrome being the same whether spelled forward or backward for a remarkable achievement that still works today almost 100 years after its completion. Can we say the same thing about many modern pieces of equipment? When our 7-year-old convection oven was ruined by a power surge in September, we learned that the part needed to repair the oven and the oven itself were obsolete. Long live the Panama Canal! It's only change in 100 years will be the completion of the expansion for new 6.1 kilometer Pacific Access Channel to accommodate wider and deeper ships, which is set to be finished in 2014, the 100th anniversary of the canal. The new third set of locks will be the size of four football fields. More than one million ships from all over the world have transited the canal since its official inauguration on August 15, 1914. The canal cost more than $375 million to complete, and cruise ships pay more than $100,000 to pass through the 47.9-mile canal, which takes eight to 10 hours. But this sure beats the alternative of going around Cape Horn!

Ken and I have been half-way through the canal twice. Along with Punxsutawney Phil, we celebrated was our third time through the entire canal. Every time the entire canal is transited, the cruise director's staff invites everyone to construct a poster to wave when we pass the grandstand before the second Miraflores Locks near the Pacific side of the canal, where residents and tourists gather to wave at the passengers and crew on the ships. We had decided not to make a poster celebrating Punxsutawney Phil's love for the Panama Canal but the day before I yielded to temptation and gave Phil his just dues with a cartoon caricature of him, expressing his love. Walking around with the poster gave us the opportunity to share the gospel truth about the world's most famous weather-forecasting groundhog. It always amazes me that so many people have never heard about him!

The route through the canal is southeast from Colon to Panama City. We entered the first of the three Gatun locks at 7:20 p.m., sailed through Gatun Lake, passed under the Centennial Bridge, cleared the Pedro Miguel Locks, sailed through Miraflores Lake, waved to the largest crowd of onlookers we have ever seen at the grandstand, cleared the two Miraflores locks, passed under the Bridge of the Americas and exited the canal with an outstanding view of the modern high-rise buildings in Panama City by 4:30 p.m.

If you have transited the Panama Canal, you know that the weather is usually hot and humid. Deborah, our port lecturer, told us that some people have actually developed pneumonia after their voyage because they had spent too much time in the sun and became dehydrated. She warned us to stay out of the sun and drink plenty of water. We enjoyed the most spectacular day ever with warm (low 80s) temperatures and comfortable humidity.

The perfect transit of the Panama Canal had a perfect conclusion at the first performance of the Pacific Princess Singers and Dancers in Cinematastic. For those on the 2010 World Cruise, we welcomed back Stephanie, in her new position of dance captain. The show was originally scheduled for Sunday night but was postponed due to the wild and wicked waves of the sea. That was a good thing. At the end of the production, Stephanie threw herself from a platform into the waiting arms of the four male dancers. On Sunday, we are not sure that they would have been able to catch her and who knows where she would have landed! The show was fantastic with the singers and dancers receiving a well-deserved standing ovation.

Cartegena: A Charming Change in Itinerary

On our second day aboard, the captain announced over the loud speaker that we would have an early change of itinerary. That evening we received the letter under the door confirming the news, "Last week, there were incidents of drug-related violence in Santa Marta, Columbia. All transportation and business was paralyzed for more than two days and dozens of gang members were arrested. As the safety and security of our passengers and crew is our priority, we have made the decision to cancel our call in Santa Marta. In its place we will add a call to Cartegena."

Two years ago when we visited Cartegena, we had taken a ship's tour called the "Best of Cartegena" so we had seen it all--the giant San Felipe de Barajas Fortress, the walled Old City (both named a UNESCO World Heritage Site), the Inquisition Palace, the San Pedro Claver church built in 1730 that was named after the Catholic priest who was the Patron Saint of Slaves for baptizing more than 300,000 of them and Las Bovedas, the former dungeons that are now homes to boutiques and tourist shops. Because our visit would end at 12:30 p.m. so we could keep the same time for the ship's transit of the Panama Canal the next day, we signed up for a ship's tour recommended by Deborah, our port lecturer, that offered a part-guided, part-on-your-own tour of the Old City. She thought that the nicest way to learn about the Old City was to wander around and take photographs of the colorful atmosphere and ornate architecture. After we had committed to the tour, we learned that a group of people in Cruise Critic were going into town on their own. Thanks to the skillful negotiations of Noemi, who speaks fluent Spanish, they commandeered an entire bus for 22 people at $12 each that took them to almost all of the places listed plus the Conventa de La Popa monastery built on the foundation of an Indian temple that sits on top the highest point in Cartegena. They even bargained for emerald jewelry. What a deal!

However, our tour was great, thanks to our guide David, who pronounced his name Da-Ved. He told us that Cartegena experiences two seasons, rainy and dry with January being in the dry season, and two temperatures, hot and hotter with today being hot. No one ever perspires on David's tours but instead pours out "holy water." This city with 1,200,000 inhabitants has 11 percent unemployment so the vendors are very aggressive. More than 30 percent of the population does not make the minimum wage and are classified as the poor living in poverty. David recommended that we negotiate a price of about 1/2 what a vendor originally asks. He also warned us to avoid the guides who would tell us that their services were free and then inform us that we owe them $40 at the end of the free tour. If we needed directions, we should ask a police officer. On the motorbikes that are often used as taxis, it is best to ask for service with no air conditioning because the air conditioning is 100 miles per hour. To keep track of us, he gave us name badges with "My name is David."

When we stopped at the fortress for a photo opportunity, David told us that the main reason it was built in 1533 was to protect the gold, silver and emeralds that were found in Peru and brought to Cartegena for storage before being shipped to Europe. The origin of the name of the
bay, which then became the name of the city, is its similarity to Cartegena Bay in Spain. The complete name of the city is Cartagena de Indias because the settlers assumed that they were in India rather than a new continent.

The Old Town, a completely walled city with its original wall, has only 12 traffic lights but the drivers seemed to ignore them thinking they must be Christmas decorations of red and green. David's traffic lesson for us was to look to the right, look to the left and then go for it! Also, if we wanted to purchase any fruit, we should be sure that the vendors peeled it in front of us or the fruit may have been peeled yesterday. Because the churches were the tallest buildings in the city, they had lookout towers to help guard the city. The sundials on the buildings are extremely accurate when the sun is shining.

The major square in the city is named after Simon Bolivar, the George Washington of South America. His dream of giving liberty to all the countries of South America unfortunately died after his death at the age of 47, at which point he had liberated five countries. The history of Cartegena is divided into three periods: Spanish Domination; Liberation that occurred twice on November 11, 1811, and October 10, 1821, in between which the residents paid dearly with the death of 6,000 people and most of the survivors emigrating to other other countries where they died rather than surrendered; and the Republic.

The two things that Cartegena wants to forget are the Inquisition and slavery. In the Museum of the Inquisition are replicas of the instruments of torture because the citizens wanted to rid the city of those two tarnishing marks. However, that knowledge did not stop us from touring the museum again. The Inquisition was established by the Catholics who executed people whom they thought were suspicious and accused them of witchcraft. If a person weighed more than 70 kilos, he or she had the devil inside. If a person weighed fewer than 40 kilos, he or she was a witch who was light enough to fly. Potential witches and warlocks also were asked 33 interrogation questions. We put Punxsutawney Phil on the scales and were certain that he weighed less than 40. We also took many photographs of him with instruments of torture. I had Ken stand behind the guillotine and said that I would yell, "Cut," and then take his picture. He refused to put his head in it. In the beautiful courtyard with a variety of trees behind the museum was the La Horca for hanging. We also admired the painting by Ernesto Recuirco of Ken in a former life as an executioner.

We walked back the street to the wall of the city where Ken climbed the stairs so he could view the ocean. Because the first step was so steep, I decided to look through one of the holes in the wall and was rewarded with a nice view of the beach. Then we walked back to the cathedral to meet our fellow passengers and negotiated with a vendor who had approached me when we started our self-guided tour for several necklaces of what he promised was black coral and genuine, uncut, semi-precious stones. He told me to remember him by his cap with a Canadian maple leaf. If a vendor tells you to find him or her on your way back, don't worry because that vendor will find you! We cannot guarantee that the black coral is not glass beads and the pearls are not plastic but the necklaces do make nice gifts for friends.

Our bus took us back to the ship through the new town, where 85 percent of the population lives. It is a modern city with skyscrapers and shiny new office buildings. We learned from our fellow passengers who had not visited Cartegena is many years that they remembered it as a dirty, back-woods town that was rather scary and were surprised how the new mayor had cleaned it up. David explained that the wrought-iron fences in front of many homes were not to keep the burglars out but were for decoration.

That afternoon, the Pacific Princess hosted a meet-and-greet with a champagne toast for all passengers returning from the 2011 World Cruise. We are 44 or 45 strong. It was great to get together with everyone again. The party was crashed by a woman whom none of us knew who was on the 2008 World Cruise and thought the invitation was for everyone who had ever gone around the world. We feel very lucky to be back on board for a third trip around the world!

Aruba: One Happy Island for Butterfly Magic

Aruba's citizens work hard to live up to the slogan of One Happy Island. The sun shone brightly over the welcoming turquoise, teal and navy blue waters from the shore to the horizon as we headed to the bus station with Noemi and Sergio to take the Marmol bus to the Butterfly Farm. After stopping at an ATM that was out of service, we were delighted to learn from the bus driver that the buses accepted US currency for the $1.30 each fare. We were lucky again when the man sitting behind Noemi lived at the same stop where we needed to get off. Even the lack of air conditioning on the bus did not make us uncomfortable because a cooling breeze came in from the open windows. Friendly locals were very happy to provide directions for those of us from the ship who were like the blind leading the blind on this island paradise. Several passengers from the ship who were heading for Arashi Beach for snorkeling were proud that they knew what SCUBA meant--Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus. My Floridian college students had taught me that.

According to the owner who is a native of Silver Springs, Maryland, the Butterfly Farm is one of a handful of farms in the world that breeds butterflies, none of which are in North America. He is a friend of Tony, who owns the butterfly facility in Key West. When we paid our $15 each admission fee, he told us that we could come back anytime during our stay in Aruba but should really try to be there the next morning when the up to 100 butterflies are born each day. While watching this miracle of nature would not have cost us a second entrance fee, we would need to pay for the airfare to Cartagena, Columbia, to catch our ship so we decided to pass on his kind offer. All around the entrance area, which also served as the gift shop, were signs with "Welcome. We're all a flutter that you are here."

First time visitors are given a complimentary tour. Yara, our tour guide, lived up to her name that means "butterfly" in her birthplace in the Netherlands. Her slender body acted like a butterfly as she flitted, flirted, fluttered and flew through her energetic and enthusiastic commentary about the lives and loves of butterflies. Her rules for us were simple: stay on the sandy path, watch where you step so you do not tramp on resting butterflies, do not touch the butterfly's super fragile wings because you could erase the scales, go between the front legs of a butterfly that lands on you to lead it off and check your clothes when exiting to be sure that a butterfly is not hitchhiking on you. Yara told us she would join us inside the garden. We later determined that this was her way to give us time to acclimate to the whirling wonderland that welcomed us. When we entered the enchanted garden of butterflies circling, weaving and dancing, Sergio, Noemi and Ken started snapping pictures wildly. I was glad that my main responsibility was to take notes so that I could concentrate on the beautiful colors of the butterflies' wings, appreciate the concerto playing softly in the background, observe the colorful fish swimming in the pond, and admire the butterflies' version of the Panorama Buffet with apples, oranges and bananas. I learned later from Yara that my favorite, as well as hers, was the owl butterfly with the inside wings being aqua and the outside wings looking like an owl's face with its big eyes as it flew by.

When Yara joined us, she presented an animated and entertaining presentation of the these fascinating creatures from egg to caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly. The caterpillar eats so much that it becomes twice its size every day. It starts eating the leaf, progresses to the stem, makes its journey to a safe spot, hangs upside down while shedding its skin for one last time and uses its mouth to make a cuppa chrysalis, which is a perfectly symmetrical work of art that camouflages the future butterfly. Every time we looked at the chrysalis, we saw something different. Yara told us about an old Indian belief that in the chrysalis one sees the spirit that protects the butterfly.

Now for the million-dollar question of the day: What happens inside the chrysalis? Yara related the latest theory of metamorphosis that the coiled caterpillar begins to liquefy into a red gooey soup-like substance that starts to develop as a butterfly. In the process, the DNA is modified. Could this also happen with humans? In 10 to 15 days, a rather ugly butterfly breaks through and then hangs on to the chrysalis until it can pump up to the size it is destined to be. Then the butterfly flies away without ever having a flying lesson. It looks for two things: food in flowers that it can intake through its straw-like proboscis and a mate. The extremely picky female chooses the male because she will only mate once and wants the best male possible. The male can mate up to 45 times. She dances with many possible suitors, selects her favorite and beginning the mating process in air with her on the top and the male on the bottom, relaxing completely as the female carries him around and around. This process can last from two to 48 hours. Any similarity between this ritual and the mating process of human is probably more than coincidental. Once impregnated, the female can lay up to 50 to 100 eggs.

Yara used a beautiful spiritual metaphor to describe the lives of butterflies and humans. In the egg stage, an idea is born but is not yet developed. Then the caterpillar works to shed its skin because it wants to become something that it never was before. In the chrysalis stage, the caterpillar visualizes being able to fly. The moment it breaks out of its shell, the butterfly can fly and achieves freedom. Yara's enriching commentary was well worth the price of admission. (Resolution for 2012: When we return home in May, I plan to buy a feeder and cultivate the butterfly garden started by the former owners of our home. But will the dogs next door hurt or help this process?)

The staff at the butterfly farm suggested that we take a self-guided tour of a bird sanctuary close by and loaned us umbrellas because the sky looked threatening. We did not think we would need them because Aruba is a desert and January is not the rainy season. Now naive we tourists can be! After walking around the preserve and spotting very few birds but several iguanas, we decided to go back to the butterfly farm. Then the skies opened with an incredible downpour. The handle of Noemi's umbrella, the first masculine plaid umbrella that I have ever seen, broke off, making it almost impossible for her to use it. However, it didn't really matter because the rain was being blown sideways, and we all got soaked. We ran across the street to a awning-covered area in front of the windmill resort and waited out the storm.

When we finally returned to the butterfly farm, we were greeted by our 40 new best friends on the Pacific Princess' tour. Yara told us to wait five minutes and they all would be gone. With the water from the rain and the bright sunshine, the farm had a different feel. Our favorite activity was to soak our pointer fingers in banana or orange juices to put under the proboscis and belly of the butterfly and watch the featherweight creature eat from our fingers. Of course, we took many more pictures of this process, including one that seems as if Ken is kissing the butterfly. What at perfectly magical day we had enjoying butterfly farm magic in Aruba!