By the third day, there was no food.  Because there was no electricity the refrigerators were not functioning and whatever food remained went bad in the 120 degree heat. The  plumbing was also dysfunctional and because so many had gotten sea sick the bathrooms had become hell realms.

By the fourth day, even the babies had stopped crying.  We began to lose hope.  When the sun set on that fourth, sweltering, day, the sky lit up in violet, orange, gold, red rainbows of light.Then, far off at sea, from every direction, there appeared water creatures leaping towards the boat.  Getting close and closer we saw they were dolphins.  At the moment they arrived at our ferry, the engines miraculously started up again for the first time in four days, the dolphins leaped and dove in the waves carved by the boat, and we made our way safely to the shores of Costa Rica.

We had heard of the famous Quaker community located high up on the divide, in Monteverde.  We embarked on the arduous journey up the mountains to be greeted by a small, humble community of English speaking settlers who welcomed us with open arms.

Cool, wet and windy, high up on the divide, this is a place of rainbows. After staying a week with Marvin & Flori at their humble little B & B (“The Mar-Flor”), filled with many, sweet, adopted children, We were offered a small, vacant cabin in a forest, on a cliff edge to settle into. Although, the old timers were strict quakers, raised to shun music & dancing, we were invited to offer workshops in world rhythms that a few of the elders participated in.

In 1979, before Monteverde and the Cloud Forest Reserve had become the hot eco-tourist spot that it now is, little did we know that our journey was gradually leading us to our own sustainable eco-tourism business. We were enchanted with Monteverde  and decided that this would be where we would marry. We befriended John & Sue Trostle,  who took us under their wing, They offered their, “Sunset House”, a large geometric structure built on a hill, with many of the various tropical hardwoods John was cultivating on his expansive property, for our wedding ceremony.

In the meantime, Papo’s sister, Sarah, her Ecuadorian husband, Fausto, and their one year old son, Fidel had come to join us in Costa Rica.  Sarah & Fausto made all the extensive preparations for the marriage.

Years before eco-tourism was a word, Papo & I began our journey in 1975. We had our first real taste of Latin American culture in 1975.  A Puerto Rican friend. Marino Rivera, invited us to his finca in Barrio Macaná de Peñuelas.  We both felt an instantaneous connection with the people, the language, the music  & the land. We immediately began our journey of learning Spanish by attempting to communicate with the neighbors, keeping notebooks to enter new words and phrases,and listening to the rich, traditional music of Puerto Rico.  After months of living on Marino's finca, we decided that we wanted to make it our goal to travel to other parts of Latin America.We spent 6 months in Woodstock New York at the Creative Music Foundation, then to Boulder, Colorado  where Papo worked for the US Forest Service and where i taught jazz improvisation & ear training. By the time we had $3,000 in savings we decided to begin the journey.

In 1979 we journeyed in a pick-up truck, laden with Papo's farming tools, instruments & camp equipment, with our dear friend, Lloyd Williams, south through Mexico, Guatemala, where we stayed in a village on Lake Atitlan, then to El Salvador, witnessing the sorrowful effects of the civil war.  In the sweltering heat of La Unión, El Salvador (120 degrees Fahrenheit), we stayed as the only guests  at a small, family run "hospedaje".  We were there for weeks awaiting a ferry to take us around the raging war of Nicaragua to the safety of Costa Rica.  We bonded with the owners and their children during our extended stay there,getting a true taste of Latin American warmth and hospitality.

Finally an old, Staten Island ferry arrived at the port,  piloted by an elderly, retired, British sea captain.  About one hundred of us, of all ages, boarded the boat. The ride was supposed to last 24 hours to safely ferry us around the raging war of Nicaragua.  After only 6 hours at sea, the engines failed and we were set adrift, on shark infested waters, the currents nudging us closer & closer to the coastal war zone.  The dictator, Samosa, had sent PT boats to pillage & plunder stray vessels like our own.  By the 2nd day we had run out of water, by the 3rd day, by the 3rd day there was no food.

To be continued...