LIFE OF A COUNTRY VET - DR. HARRY MORRISON

 

24 HOURS with Harry - Life of a Country Vet

The sacred sanctity of the night is quickly disturbed with the harsh shrill of a pager resting by the nightstand. Harry unwillingly tries to focus with one eye on the illuminated clock. He fumbles for his reading glasses and turns on the stabbing light as he presses the offending device into a muted state. The old collie whines and howls in distress and is comforted by a reassuring pat. It is 1:13 a.m. and the answering service has summoned him from his peaceful sweet serenity.

He calls for his message and a brief report on the case at hand. He dials the client’s number from a scribbled unintelligible writing only he can decipher. The rings go unanswered, with the phone abandoned by the farmer now in the stable. The farmer assumes the veterinarian will arrive at his beckoning call within minutes. No need to waste time sitting by the phone, as the farmer rationalizes.

There is no such thing as a typical night call. Most often it is a cattle call for milk fever, a hard calving, horse foaling or colic. An injured saddle horse after a summer evening’s ride of misfortune, or a fence encounter in a pasture is also commonplace.

Feeling the effects of sleep deprivation, he wanders to the bathroom. His jaw widens in protest with a stubborn prolonged yawn. He washes the sleep from his face and runs a comb through his equally tired locks of graying hair. He pulls on the freshly laundered coveralls, grabs the keys to his four- wheel Jeep and walks into the coolness of the night air.

With a feeble attempt, a slight wandering hand clicks off the nightstand light. His slender wife recoils to a semi-fetal position, as she hugs the pillow. She wonders for a moment, how long this call will take or even if her husband will see the sheets of a warm comforting bed before dawn. She worries at times, for the emergency calls carry personal risk. It could be a night of freezing rain or a howling snowstorm with no plows on duty to clear the way. It may even be a driving rainstorm with lightning briefly showing the way with its angry flashes of light. A deer may appear over the hill in the haunting darkness of country road or a sudden curve on an unfamiliar route give cause for concern as the Jeep rolls and jives to the pitch of the road.  He grabs the shifter with his toughened hands that bear the deep cuts from dryness and weather, guarded only by tape. His hands resemble the roughness and imperfection of fresh hewn logs. Strong and determined hands, yet gentle, searching and caring. Above all else, these hands are his greatest tools in healing. Hands not pampered or absent from hard physical work or protected from the elements of nature. He slips the Jeep into gear with intention.

His practice covers 60 miles from one boundary to another and includes two clinic locations. The active clientele averages 5,000 large animals alone. The practice is split evenly with fifty percent cattle, sheep, pigs, goats; the remaining fifty percent being horses of all breeds, disciplines and purpose. He treats exotic pets, including llamas, emus and ostrich. Ailments can be seasonal. Eighty percent of the spring and summer months' emergency calls are dedicated to horses. In winter cattle demand more attention for urgent care.

There are two other veterinarians that share the large animal clients and three small animal veterinarians on site. The workload is burdening with only one weekend off in three and alternating weekend shifts, standbys, as well as two or three evenings during the weekdays that he must cover. It is not a nine-to-five job but a 24-hour service. Vacation time is rare in this profession and burnout can be a serious side effect.

He is also the official veterinarian at the local racetrack for the Sunday racing card. He inspects the horses as they do their token jog by on their way to the paddock for saddling. Groomers in hand nod their heads in recognition with greetings of “hello doc.”  “Trot that bay by again please” he asks. This time with a more even gait, Harry gives his approval for the groom to continue to the saddling area.

As the horses begin to warm up on the track for the post parade, Harry takes his place with the trainers and race crew. He bumps along unceremoniously in the back of a pick-up that rolls quickly and without caution over the untamed grassy strip that follows the rail and dirt track. As race veterinarian his duty is to bear witness at the starting gate for each race to ensure the wellbeing of the horses. It is here nervous energy can spill over into jeopardy as the taut muscles and eager minds wait for the starter’s bell to release them. This is the place where accidents are most likely to occur and not in the stretch run. Harry is also required for post-race inspection. When injuries do occur, many are catastrophic and ultimately fatal for the horses.   

As the Jeep groans and bumps along following the landscape of the gravel road, Harry ponders what might be required in the next hour. With a new supply of inventory of medicines packed securely in the Jeep, he wonders what working conditions he will find this night.

He doesn’t always have the luxury of kneeling over an animal in the comfort of a deep bedded stall sheltered by stonewalls. Sometimes he points his Jeep to the roundup terrain of a dew-covered pasture. As he bends over a cow in the dampness of the night, the Jeep’s headlights provide the emergency lighting as he struggles to right a yet unborn calf. In wintertime, his only mode of transportation may be a Ski Doo that meets him at the farmer’s gate, waiting to take him to his place of need. In many instances you have to be inventive.

He may also arrive for a colic with a horse down and cast in a stall. Sometimes, only a flashlight provides meager assistance with his stethoscope firmly placed and a pocket light searching the distressed eye of the horse.

Wearing the telltale signs of sticky red stains from a late night emergency with a hard calving, he sighs. This night it was a cow suffering from the ill effects of milk fever and in hard labour with twins, complicated by a breach for one and a backward twisted leg on the other. He manages to save the cow, but the calves do not survive. He is pumped and alert as he wheels the Jeep around and heads home. One last bend in the road and the Jeep crunches the gravel of the driveway beneath its worn-treads. Soon the welcoming warmth of his home will be his again, as he prepares to retire to his bed. The curse of the pager announces yet another crisis. He heads out the door muttering his disapproval only to be lost to the silence and solitude of the night.

Finally his work is over as he longs to close his faltering eyelids and shut them for some much-needed rest. However, unlike other jobs, he cannot afford the luxury of sleeping in or calling in sick when illness takes hold. Six-thirty comes early this morning. There are chores to do before he makes his way to the clinic and begins another day. This will be a short night of sleep for him, an all too often occurrence.

Dressed, sitting pensive and weary in thought, he sips quietly on his refreshing orange juice. He spies the creamy yogurt before him and savors the taste for a few seconds of utter delight and relaxation. His health conscious breakfast now over, he moves his chair away from the table and prepares to feed his menagerie of animals.

With regularity, they eagerly anticipate his morning visits. Three cats who are a little too heavy even for a vet’s pet; two rather spoiled retired show jumping horses and a 150 or so fancy birds, racing pigeons and flying Tipplers, along with one lone peacock and two farm dogs. They greet him with coos, wagging tails, prancing paws and nickers from the stable. Oh to be so popular even if it is only cupboard love. Still he’s content knowing their needs have been met for at least this moment, as they munch away without concern or even acknowledgement of his presence now.

Back in the personal confines of his familiar Jeep he is slowly feeling the effects of his nightly rounds. The nagging ache of a recent injury to his shoulder inflicted by an ill- tempered cow reminds him not to be complacent in his duties today. He reaches uneasily for his seatbelt, turns the ignition; clutches and thrusts the stick into first gear.

As the clock in his jeep registered 8:00 o’clock, he rolls into the parking lot of his clinic. Henry, the lordly cat, strolls by indifferent to his visit. He turns the corner to his office and begins to review the papers laid neatly in a pile beside his appointment book open to the day.

He scans several laboratory reports for work done previously and returns his client’s calls advising them of post-mortem results he had found the previous day or the written verification of prognosis from the laboratory.

It is not a given to plan one’s day in an orderly fashion as emergencies are always a priority. The lines on his telephone flash with impatience as he answers one call after another. Soon his appointment book looks like a jumbled mess of notes with a sidebar of ticklers to remind him of important actions. This could be one of those days when he may have as many as 14 calls. After surmising from the various ailments of his patients as described by their owners he is scheduled to see today, he checks his supplies and restocks his portable medicine chest with the appropriate medium.

Harry’s first call of the day takes him to an elderly client whose two year old cow has been non-responsive to drug treatment for a period of time now. The old farmer keeps a few beef cattle on his treasured farm, long since the days when it was a bustling dairy operation. The tidy pens and barns stand in tribute to the pride of the farmer’s care. Harold, the farmer, dismounts from the rattle-rattle of his tractor and ushers Harry in to examine his sick cow once again.

He knows the prognosis is not good. Still the kind-hearted farmer doesn’t want to give in to what will most likely be the inevitable. The heifer is not just any cow to him. She has become the pet, ambassador of better, healthier days for both of them.  He knows that the cow's fibrous lungs, damaged from the prolonged illness of pneumonia will only respond briefly to the concoction of drugs administered to her this morning. Harry examines the cow and prepares his intravenous cocktail. He finds the jugular vein inserting the needle and holding the bottle of fluids with a raised arm. With wonderment in their eyes a horde of kittens appear intent on exploring the case of bottles, tubes and an assortment of syringes in his open medicine bag. Harold chats with Harry who is anxious to make his round of calls before noon. Even so he doesn’t rush, and spends a few moments reminiscing with the worried farmer to help ease his anguish. Knee-high black rubbers washed and sanitized are stashed away in the back of the Jeep. He heads down the road for his next call.

As he feels the road with the steering wheel and navigates a sharp bend he comes upon a rollover. The blind curves of these rural roads make for hazardous driving to the foreigner. He takes note of the damage and cluster of people working to clear the wreckage as he drives by. A couple of horses are on his list this morning to re-check.

The first patient is a 20 something Thoroughbred that is recovering from a slight bow. The owner has been keeping it wrapped for support and quiet from the freedom of a large open field and fellow hoodlums in the herd. It looks good, and no further treatment other than time is recommended.

His next visit brings him back to the little Appaloosa gelding that re-injured his left hind cannon bone. The dramatic presentation of proud flesh is examined once the bandages are carefully removed. The owner has been diligent in her care giving. Her efforts are rewarded with the cleanliness of the wound now healing for the second time. Still she agonizes over the possibility of the leg scarring on her future show prospect. Harry brings her back to reality in what is best for the horse. A bump on the leg from scar tissue is minor in the overall scheme of things. Somewhat guilt ridden over the vanity suggested towards the show arena, she is satisfied to have a functional horse in the end. The bandage is reapplied and Harry departs the stable for his next call.

He picks up the handset of his two-way radio and announces into the speaker “2102 to 2100”. A voice responds on the other end. As he clicks the button down, he asks “any change?” the reply is “negative.” He shifts the Jeep into third gear and continues on his way.

He arrives at a busy riding stable to examine a few more horses before returning to the clinic. He steps out into the choking road dust that now clings to the Jeep like a dirty brown blanket. He lifts the heavy case of medicine from the back of his vehicle that shows no mercy to his aching shoulder. Harry no sooner enters the stable than an anxious owner asks him to examine her mare if he has time.  Not a scheduled appointment, he bows to her wishes. But first he must see the pony with the injured eye.

The gray pony is summoned and walks cautiously down the aisle. Suspicious of the man in coveralls, Harry takes his time to reassure the little horse that he is here to help. The eye is ulcerated and the owner is advised to administer a prescribed eye ointment and to keep the pony indoors away from the stinging rays of the bright sunlight.

He moves on to vaccinate a finicky show horse that is rather reluctant to the needle. With good aim and swiftness directed at his target, the needle penetrates without too much reaction. One more shot and it’s all over for another year.

Finally he walks to the stall where the paint mare has evidence of heavily soiled quarters. The owner is concerned that something is amiss in the mare’s delicate condition. She worries that the mare has slipped her foal. He reaches for a long sleeved glove and prepares to do a rectal examination on the mare. Much to the owner’s relief, she is confirmed to be still carrying her foal and dismisses the dark yellow stained quarters as nothing more than some loose manure. Returning to the solitude of his Jeep he points the vehicle towards the clinic.

Harry re-stocks his case with the used drugs he administered and checks his desk for more appointments. He returns phone calls before heading off to make one last call before lunch. He grabs his favourite drink (Coca-Cola) from the refrigerator and turns the ignition key in the Jeep. He makes his way to a dairy farm to look in on a three-quarter mastitis case, a veterinary term meaning three of four teats infected.

It is a stifling hot day as he relishes the relief from the heat in his climate controlled Jeep. Record breaking temperatures have been playing out for the past three weeks now, with drought conditions day after day. Nature is cruel to the sick animals under his care. In some cases, the heat stresses these animals to the point of no return. Exhaust fans are working overtime in the barns these days, as farmers and stable managers try to provide some comfort to their sweltering livestock.

He comes prepared to infuse two other cows and treat the ominous case of escherichia coli in the one cow. The farm has a large herd of Holstein cattle and the sick cow with the urgent case of mastitis is his first patient.

Leslie the cow registered 103 F degrees on the thermometer. Her respiration has increased as he prepares medication. Harry administers Oxymycin, Dextrose and Vitamaster, a litre of hypertonic saline, 15 cc of Anafen and four litres of electrolytes. The treatment would later prove to be in vain.

With the other two cows infused with a Betadine solution for a suspicious uterine infection, his stomach growls in protest as he breaks for lunch. Harry takes a juicy ripe plum from his pack of snacks and checks his wristwatch. It is now 1:10 p.m.

Back in the comfort of his home he prepares a simple meal. Famished, he feeds his hunger with slices of fresh tomatoes, seasoned and placed between two slices of bread and drinks a large glass of milk to toast the rest of the day. Just 30 minutes of reprieve from his duties his pager rings. Before he pulls away in his chariot of wheel and steel, he looks skyward searching the air for his Tipplers he released earlier. He counts their numbers hoping a prey-seeking hawk has not made a meal out of one of the babies.

This time it is an old mare writhing in pain from a previous day’s colic. His partner had seen the horse initially and forewarned him that he might expect another call.    

He comes prepared for the worst. As he accelerates into fourth gear, he questions in his mind the wisdom of owners who want to be present for that fatal injection. It is those owners who can’t be consoled and yet stay for the euthanasia he can’t understand. They sometimes endanger themselves when attempting to comfort their dying horse. The horse will fall heavily to the ground without warning or direction as the deadly effects of the injection grips the last remaining life from the horse. He prefers that the owner isn’t there at the end but carries the memory of the horse standing in better times. It is that final scene that he feels will haunt the owners for years to come, rather than give them closure and comfort. He knows all too well from personal experiences.

He arrives on the scene only to realize his worst fears for this horse. He begins his somber examination with care and compassion.The little girl sobs uncontrollably desperately wanting to help her dying horse. She is unable to accept the fate of her equine friend. Her mother flounders for the right words and correct diagnosis of the situation that such young ears and mind can comprehend. The small black mare fights on courageously staying on her feet, heaving in vain with groans of pain and excursion trying to relieve the horrendous cramp and bloat of a suspected twisted bowel.  

Her vitals tell the sad tale. Her heart rate is over 100 BPM, respiration 60 BMP and climbing. Her body temperature is falling below a normal 99.0 F; her clammy wet skin, dull tortured eyes and bluish gray gums spell circulatory failure. The hollow pinging sound of an air filled abdomen when the sides are tapped and the audio record from a stethoscope, gives rise to the fact that a deadly twist is probable. It’s all there in the clinical signs. Although a merciful death by injection is the most humane thing to do, an owner’s wish to save their horse is hard to relinquish. Saying goodbye is perhaps one of the toughest tests of our humanity and so it should be.

Finally, the agreement to end this horse’s misery is reached. Still the young girl wraps her arms around the neck of her beloved friend who is mercifully quiet now thanks to the veterinarian’s assistance. Harry picks up the spent syringes and walks away in silence, leaving the owners to their sobs and tears in private.

As he prepares to take his next scheduled call, he broods about past experiences such as this. It is these painful images that make his job difficult for those animals that take a turn for the worst, regardless of the cocktails of drugs and treatment given. It is so disappointing and yes, sad. Sometimes it simply is not enough. Perhaps it could have been preventable with a little more knowledge on the part of the client and loosening of the purse strings of the more frugal owner. “Penny wise and pound foolish” is the phrase that comes to mind as help has been delayed and the consequences become a sad lesson.

On occasion client’s grief and nagging conscience is targeted at the veterinarian who couldn’t save their animal. It is often easier for the owner to lay blame, than to accept the mortality of an animal under their own personal care. The owner may struggle through the emotional strain of a tragedy that they could not salvage, even with professional medical intervention. Veterinarians are human too. Harry subconsciously strokes his beard and wonders to himself if it is really worth it, being in the profession he has chosen. Then he remembers the near miraculous recoveries of those that have defied the odds, despite the ignorance of some owners or the challenge of the disease itself. He smiles. Yes, that is why I became a vet, he acknowledges.

He still has a battery of calls ahead of him before dinner. The Jeep will need to be fueled; the clinic called for an update, and an emergency just around the corner. At least tonight he can stay home as his partner takes over the night shift.

WHEN THE HEART YEARNS, the story of Escapable Beaux and his groom

Melissa and Beaux during his early years of racing.

When the heart yearns and the faith is kept, sometimes a twist of fate of a celestial blessing happens. This is one such story of a stakes winning racehorse and his devoted groom who reunite after years of separation.

It was a rainy and cool 9 degrees C on Friday, April 12, 2002 when Escapable Beaux slipped into the world at Walnridge Farm in Cream Ridge, New Jersey.  The state of the art 300 acre historic farm would be the birthplace of Beaux as he struggled to his feet that early morning. Walnridge Farm had purchased his dam while in foal back in 2001 at the Standardbred Mixed Sale in Pennsylvania. Beaux had been bred by the prestigious Perritti Farms who had consigned the mare to auction.

Escapable Beaux was sired by the great Artiscape whose record at stud was phenomenal. With 834 wins by his offspring and over $89,000,000 earned in stake races, Beaux was bred to be deep and fast on the track. His dam was Beauteous, a daughter of Jate Lobell. She herself paced in 1:56. She was retired to the broodmare ranks after four wins and produced 8 foals.

In the fall of 2003, Escapable Beaux was sold as a yearling at the premier Standardbred Horse Sale in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania for $30,000 (US) to a Canadian buyer. Beaux would later make his debut on the racetrack and eventually find his favourite groom, the passionate horsewoman, Melissa Balson during his early racing days.

Melissa handled the strapping and often cocky stud colt with admiration. She understood him and had no difficulty handling him where others did. He appreciated her softer side after long workouts and demanding races. She spent hours massaging his legs, bathing him and fussing over the big colt she stood in awe of. Beaux had a vast and impressive career ahead of him. There was just something about this horse that stole Melissa’s heart. Horse racing can be a heartbreak business and when Beaux moved on to new owners, Melissa never lost faith in the hope she would one day meet him again. And to that end, she followed his racing career with intense interest over the years.

In 2007, Escapable Beaux was entered in the Tattersales January Sale. He was purchased for $77,000. It dashed Melissa’s hopes of ever being able to afford the hip price of her beloved Beaux. Still she continued to follow his efforts on the racetrack, whispering from afar to stride boldly and safely to the wire.

Beaux’s career didn’t end as a brief drive down the stretch like so many others. No indeed he would endure the rigors of racing for many years. He raced until the age of 12. By this point in his lengthy career, Escapable Beaux had won well over $1 million (Cdn) in Stake races and other wins. In total, he dashed under the wire to win 46 races between the age of 3 and 11 years. Rarely if ever was he out of the money. Some of his impressive wins were the Final Western Canada Pacing Derby, the Silver Buckets, and the Final Willowdale Series at Woodbine. He was also named the 2005 ASHA Award Winner for Three Year Old Colts/Geldings. The end of his race days meant the end of the trail for Melissa to follow.

As Beaux’s 13^th birthday came and went, Melissa was disheartened when she could no longer follow Beaux’s racing activities. She thought she had lost him forever. As she searched online for any possible link to his whereabouts off the track, a curious video of a big stout Standardbred caught her eye. It was wearing a western saddle on its back but she would know that unmistakable look and gait anywhere. It was her Escapable Beaux.

Ecstatic to discover she had found him, she immediately made inquiries only to be disappointed to learn he was no longer available. Thankful for the fact that Beaux didn’t end up in the slaughter pipeline, it eased her mind to know he was at least safe and surprising sound and fit.  Far from the racetrack that had been his only home, Beaux had begun saddle training.

Melissa shared this exciting news with her husband. He rather shrugged it off, not wanting to let on that he had already purchased the horse as a surprise Christmas present. He pleaded his case for having Beaux explaining how much it would mean to his wife. Beaux would finally be reunited with the one person in his life that had always loved him, win or lose. Her husband had the horse shipped all the way back to Ontario, Canada from the deep south in the US. I can only imagine the tears and smiles when the lead shank and papers were passed to Melissa. She finally owned her beloved Escapable Beaux.

There was one last thing Melissa had always dreamt of. She would like to have Beaux race one more time under her silks. He had been off the track for 14 or 15 months and at age 14, this was the last shot at ever pacing down the stretch again. (Standarbreds must retire after age 14.) Melissa went to task putting Beaux back in training. He qualified to race and with husband Kyle on the lines, Beaux thundered down the track once last time. It wasn’t about winning a race, it was about accomplishing the impossible dream.

Escapable Beaux returned to saddle training and Melissa is enjoying being atop her famous horse. This is a new venture for both of them. Both are more accustomed to being in harness - he between the shafts; her on the lines. Together they are discovering a new world of locomotion. Instead of the view from behind, Melissa is looking outward and forward. Beaux no longer has blinkers on and is learning to trust his rider from above. They were making remarkable progress. But Melissa had to take leave for a bit. Most recently she gave birth to their first child. They had already decided on a name if they were to have a son. Beau Russell entered the world not knowing he was named after an incredible horse and love story for the ages. 

Little Beau meets Big Beaux

RAIN FOREST ADVENTURE

This is a preamble to what lies ahead for Marilyn and I. The weather in Costa Rica tomorrow is expected to be a sultry 35 Celsius with a mix of sun and cloud. Stay tuned to this page for daily updates. This is your ticket to travel with us and experience our holiday in the rain forests of Costa Rica.

DAY 1

We rose in the blackness of night, too early for the living. Marilyn’s cats were confused by the early morning disturbance. They were no longer prowling the room where the stranger slept in THEIR bed. The limo arrived right on time and it was clear sailing to the airport traveling on deserted highways.

We checked in at the counter and retrieved our boarding passes. We breezed through security and into the secure area where we waited the next couple of hours for our flight. This time I didn’t have to remove my shoes since we were not traveling into the U.S.A. In retrospect, I could have worn the air cast on my foot. I’m grateful to avoid U.S. travel and the hordes of people and long security lines and seemingly endless searches. Difficult times in an uncertain world. Still this was so welcoming to only go through one screening process.  After finding a Timmy’s, we settled into a pair of handicap seats and waited.

We boarded our flight and was more than ready for the ride on big bird. Once in the air, Marilyn scored a full 3 seats to herself. She liberally sprawled out her tired body with her neck pillow in place, snoozing the hours away. I on the other hand started to peck away on today’s travel blog.

Shortly after takeoff we were handed our homework. Government paperwork for the Costa Rican government. Everything was printed in minuscule print requiring a magnifying glass to read it. The form was in Spanish! Luckily the questions were printed in English below. My next door neighbours on the plane offered to try to read the tiny print with their younger eyes for me. Even for them it was difficult. Eventually all three of us worked our way through the forms hopefully answering all the questions correctly.  I really do need to get those cataracts done. I see the doc again in September.

It took around 90 minutes to reach our destination once we landed in the steamy mountainous terrain at Liberia. The roads were paved but hilly and only a two lane road. At some point our driver was well exceeding the posted speed limit as the trees flashed by.  At long last we arrived and were the first to be checked in.  We were anxious to find our rooms and rest after being up since 3 am. After what seemed ions, we finally were given the key passes to our room. We graciously accepted a lift in the golf cart by our bell hop. We opened the door to a spacious room. But there was one major problem. There was only one bed! We were not unpacking or staying. After numerous calls to the front desk, we ended up going back with our driver to have a talk with the concierge about finding us another room. Two hours later we were lead to an even better room with our own private hot tub.

It is a huge luxury resort with an army of staff to cater to guests. We kept getting lost. By the time we were finally settled into our room, not one of the five restaurants were open. We were famished after travelling all day with very little substance to keep our engines going. By 10 pm (our time) we had finally finished a delicious meal. When we were leaving to retire to our rooms, we ran into the couple I had met on the plane. They had experienced the same problem (1 bed instead of 2) but they were not as lucky. They have to wait 2 more days before a 2 bedroom is available. For now, one of them has to sleep on a cot.

Despite the disorganization, the staff were extremely polite and helpful. One member noticed our Canadian flag on our luggage and thanked us (Canadians) for being so patient. Well I’m not sure if politeness and patience comes into it, but we were stubborn to get the room we paid for being tactful but still unwavering in our request. I guess respect for old ladies still holds water in some parts of the world. And now I’m flirting with the idea of learning Spanish. Such a flavourful language from a smiling and welcoming people as the Costa Ricans.

As the black sky and warm breeze off the ocean washed over us while we sipped a glass of wine, we watched the beautiful people in a wedding group enjoying the night. The bongo drums are beating outside our room and the party atmosphere rising. Tomorrow I meet with the resort’s techie guy. Their Wi Fi is not secure and they have no password for guests. I couldn’t believe they have a conference center and not secure connection. For now, I am on and off the internet quickly. I’m doing my posts in “Word” and copying to my blog for posting.

DAY 2

We rose this morning after a somewhat restful night. Apparently, we both snore. At least it is only a low grunt so easy enough to ignore. After a refreshing shower, I stepped out onto the balcony to take a few pictures from our room of the landscape before us. We do have a large tree that blocks 80% of our view of the resort below but the other 20% looks out onto the bay. Trying to get a good vantage point for a shot, I stood on the hot tube to get more elevation above the tree line. Marilyn was having a fit. I explained to her I would just blend in with the monkeys here climbing up on the tub. No sooner did I say that and a little monkey indeed decided to join us from his vantage point in the tree. Marilyn was too excited as I tried to calm her as not to scare it off. She ran to get her camera. The little monkey showed himself again and she got to record some video. She admitted she was acting like a kid in a candy store and has to curb her excited impulses.

After a buffet breakfast with just about anything you can imagine on a very full plate, we would not be in need of lunch as our bellies were more than adequately filled. Afterwards we decided to go to the tour information session and so we booked a couple of more trips. Tomorrow we are off to Nicaragua so we must carry our passports and travel documents.

This morning when I logged in briefly for my internet, all of a sudden, a secure network popped up for two locations at the resort requiring a password. I went to the concierge desk and told them I needed a password. The new guy on the desk dictated the same message as the woman the night before. There is no password to use the internet connection. I begged to differ and explained to them I had a message showing me two secure connects from the resort one specifically saying “Guests.” I asked to meet with the technology person before day’s end so I can have access to a secure connection. We will see. They must really think I’m a PITA. I did find a guess using his laptop at one of the restaurants and casually asked him if he had a secure line. He said yes. The resort had supplied him with a password. I knew it! Well PITA will continue to harp to get a secure line.

We cancelled our sales pitch meeting set for this morning. They were reassessing our financial status being retirees and felt we were not suitable candidates to invest. We had no intention of being shareholders but they signed us up for some discounts if we spent 90 minutes listening to them do their spiel. I was not comfortable divulging financial status with them at any rate. There is a big sales push here at this resort and we are learning most staff are very new to the area and country. Most have only been here a month or so brought in from other resorts from Mexico and elsewhere. Again…. Growing pains for a new facility.

By noon we decided to try out one of the many pools. But first we had to change into our swimsuits. Marilyn modeled her new suit while struggled to adjust mine. It fit perfectly fine a year ago. For some reason I was having a wardrobe malfunction. The rushing was fitting back to front making the whole suit one sided. Try as I might to straighten it, I failed miserable. No amount of wiggling, pulling, pushing was going to make this thing fit properly. Marilyn looked it over and thought maybe a pin would hold things in place. I wasn’t going to chance a reveal. I decided to start all over and discovered that part of the suit was twisted making it impossible to lay properly on the human form. Once it was flipped and pulled on, the bathing suit I remembered that fit decently, was back! Marilyn and I laughed and laughed so had it was like a scene out of “I Love Lucy” - me of course being Lucy and Marilyn, Ethel.   Off we went poolside.

Marilyn enjoyed the lagoon-like pools while I posted on my laptop. Eventually I gradually entered the water letting my body acclimatize to the coolness of it. This is my type of pool. Just over 4’ in depth so I can stand up whenever I want. Of course, they have deeper pools throughout the resort, but I kind of like this lagoon pool that winds and twists its way throughout the resort. There is even a section in the resort where you can have a swim up room as well as a swim up bar.

Everything of course is free (Well I should clarify – “all inclusive.”) There is so much selection and fabulous food you feel almost guilty not indulging in a little bit of everything.

After a brief afternoon snooze, we explored more of the resort and found our way to the ocean. The swimming pools ebb and flow through into each other through infinity pools leading all the way to the beach. We ran into the couple on the plane sunning themselves as they laid out on long lounge chairs. Then it was off to the spa.

We had pre-booked our massages earlier in the day and arrived for the relaxing Swedish massage. Marilyn originally was to have a guy work on her but when we arrive, it was female. We changed for the treatment and headed off to secret rooms. I had filled out the medical information and noted my broken foot. As the therapist and I walked to our room, I made sure she was aware of my foot issue just in case the information had not been relayed.

As I disrobed and laid on the table the massage attendant came in and began to work on me. Suddenly the images of Marilyn being pushed and pulled by some guy flashed into my head. I started giggling. My therapist must have thought she was hurting me as I tried to control the impulse to laugh. I pulled myself together and tried to banish the thought from my head. It felt like she was almost laying on top of me to release those tight banjos strung muscles in my shoulders, calves and back. You would think a Mack truck had ran over me by the force she was inflicting-+. When she got to my lower leg, I was a little skeptical about her massaging my foot. I should have listened to my instincts. Either the translation didn’t happen and/or my medical information did not come to her attention, but she pulled on my toes and dug her thumb into my foot. I yanked my foot back in protest! She left it alone after that. For the next 30 minutes of so, my poor foot suffered from the unintentional yank and prod. As we left to change back into our tourist clothes, the therapist handed us a recommendation card. Marilyn should have a session of reflexology while mine said a pedicure. I can only imagine her surprise when she got to my feet that have been cracked and dry from a winter wearing of work boots. However, I was not enthused to book a pedicure with the fish who clean your feet. They would have been stuffed by all the dead skin they could pull off of my heels. Somehow, I would find that totally gross and very unappealing.

We went for dinner tonight in the “elegant” dress code dining room.  Afterwards we strolled into one of the many bars and ordered a drink to take back to our rooms. While there we ran into our plane companions again. They too have booked the trip to Nicaragua tomorrow so we will see them bright and early.

Just one of the infinity falls and pools that wind their way through the resort.

DAY 3

We rose early to catch the 6:30 bus to Nicaragua. We are about 30 miles from the border but with 2 lane winding roads it takes twice as long to drive the distance as it would on our highways. I was impressed with our driver’s skill. I can’t imagine taking a small 2 lane road and being able to squeeze 3 large vehicles by at speed. Somehow these drivers manage the impossible.

I have never seen so many horses tethered and grazing on the shoulder of a busy road. At one point we jockeyed by a rider on a mule ponying a mare with her foal running along side. The big bus rolled by them with just a kiss of space to spare. I was having heart failure.

As the kilometers slowly rolled by we finally reached the border crossing. That was an interesting crossing. On we went pushing by the endless transports waiting their turn to clear the border into Costa Rica. Our guide told us it was not uncommon for the trucks to be parked there for 24 hours or more. Kilometer after kilometer the trucks sat idle in the hot sun.

Our first destination was to a lake where we took a 40 minute boat ride. These waters are home to bull sharks and other salt water fish which is unusual in itself. This tectonic origin lake is fresh water and these creatures have adapted over time. As we putted about the waters passing several luxury island homes, we arrived at the postage stamp size island that is a refuge for a small group of monkeys. The story goes that one dedicated veterinarian purchased the island as a home for unwanted pet monkeys. It is amazing how so many people do not respect boundaries when it comes to animals. People still want to feed the monkeys which disrupts their normal diet and can result in unwanted and sometimes aggressive behaviour since they are more or less feral now. Their benefactor comes weekly to ensure their needs are met and to assess their health.

Next stop was the city of Granada which was set aside for the tacky sovereign hunters in our group. (There were only a couple of people who actually purchased anything.) Then it was on to see an active volcano.

The bus took us right up to the top. Our visit was to be brief. Gases rising from the volcano can play havoc with the respiratory system. You could lean right over and look into the mouth of hell. Way, way down molten lava was glowing red ambers in the throat of the devil. The crater was immense and awe inspiring. As we drove back down the mountain, it was eerie to think that the belly of the earth was still smoldering beneath us and will one day erupt in a horrific display of Mother Nature’s power.

We headed off to lunch. The restaurant overlooked another volcanic lake. A group of trail horses stood in the hot afternoon sun tacked with reins tied to the saddle below us. I was not one to do the T-shirt, keychain shopping. Instead I wandered down to the horses and took some pictures.

Although the horses stood patiently in the equator’s burning sun, they appeared in good flesh and were shod. Still I anguished over their heads being drawn in so tight to their chest with no release for their necks. You see they were not halted tied to anything. They were loose but held by the tight rein of the bridle. At one point a plastic bag blew into the holding area causing one horse to dance in panic. I called out to the handlers to pick up the bag. One attendant ran over and claimed the tumbling bag of nothingness. The horse settled back to its semi conscious state.

Soon it was time to climb into the bus and start the long travel back. While on route the bus slowed as a procession of mourners claimed the highway briefly, raising a casket up and carrying it on their shoulders while a band played the funeral march.  Although a sombre sad event, traffic continued to flow around the mourners as life continued as usual. Not even a pause other than the slower speed of vehicles seemed to respect the occasion.

Our border crossing back into Costa Rica was more or less a non-event. Passports stamped, bags x-rayed; wait and wait some more as the street vendors pushed their trinkets on you to buy. We arrive back at the resort around 6 pm. The bus had been silent for the remainder of the journey. Everyone was exhausted and taking to their head nods and naps.  

This evening we dined on an assortment of Mexican food. I tried things I have never had before. Marilyn and I were just too tired to stay out longer so were returned to our room and here I lay typing this day’s post.

horses in the hot sun - Nicaragua

DAY 4

We rose and went down to our favourite restaurant for breakfast. Marilyn had risen a lot earlier than I. She was hoping to catch the garden tour walk at 8:30 this morning. After posting last night’s blog, my brain wouldn’t shut off as usual despite taking my prescription sleep aid. I turned the television on and lowered the volume until it was barely audible. Meanwhile Marilyn was sawing logs in the next bed. An hour past and still I felt no urge to find my pillow. My foot was throbbing after the long day of travel so I decided to pop a couple of Tylenol and then … oh hell… why not take another sleep aid. It still took another half hour before I felt somewhat groggy. I tip toed around trying not to wake my friend. She was enjoying a good few heaves as wisps of air rushed through her quiet mouth told me she was resting well. Can’t say I’ve really watched other people sleep. I have enough trouble understanding what slumber is myself. I turned the TV off but there was still a light shinning from the long shelf above the beds. Sort of a nightlight I would guess. I stumbled around in the room trying to figure out which switch I needed to shut the damn thing off. There is a large curtain that separates the bedroom room area from the washing station and shower. I quietly crept into that area looking for any switch that might kill that overhead light. Nope… no switch there. I went back to my bed and groped around the night stand looking for a switch. There were 3! Eeny, meeny, miny, mo, which one do I flick?  I clenched my teeth and prayed I chose the right switch, otherwise Marilyn would have woken in a fright I held my breath and pushed the switch plate. BLACKNESS!!!!

By 9 am I finally got up and we went for breakfast. Then it was off to the shooting range. Marilyn had never handled a gun before so call it beginners luck, but she was an Annie Oakley. A young boy originally from Richmond Hill now living in Tennessee was curious to join us. He had done this the day before. Our instructor and guide let him tag along with us. He was most helpful, especially with the gusting winds that kept knocking our target over and sending balloons flying off into the ponds. He walked in, clothes and all, to get those flying balloons. I told the instructor she should hire him on. He can be useful. Luca managed to hit one of the balloons. Now to be fair, one of the riffles did not have any sights so it was pure guess as to aim and fire. I complained that was an unfair advantage so I finally got to use the riffle with sights. I nailed several dead on but you had to be patient and wait for the wind to die down. I think Marilyn did so well because of her steady hands being a nurse. She can be a crack shot so between her and I, nobody better not mess with these grannies. I gave her a few handling tips of shoulder placement and the fact you point the riffle to the ground and never up at someone. They were just air riffles with small pellets, but still the essence of danger should always be kept in mind when handling any firearm.

After the shooting gallery experience, we spend the remainder of the day poolside. I did venture out on to the beach and walked in barefoot with my sandals in my hands. The waves washed over my ankles and calves, pulling the sand from beneath my feet with each withdrawal back to the sea. That is the bravest you will ever find me in an ocean.

Marilyn and I swam/walked our way to the swim up bar and had a Shanty. Since neither of us really wanted cocktails or beer, a Shanty was a good compromise. We got our exercise going up the lagoons, under the bridge and back. I swam a tiny bit and was comfortable being able to just stand up when I was tired.

We also tried out the hot tub on one of the islands. Now that was heavenly. We compared our arthritic hands and joints letting the bubbling force of the hot tub soothe away our aches.

We decided to try out a new restaurant in the complex. It was a surf or turf place. They didn’t mix the two because of seafood allergies. You either ate in the steak section of the seafood. Since I can’t have seafood, Marilyn had to settle for steak tonight instead of her love for seafood. I think she could easily be a fish with her desire to eat so much of it. But then I could be a chicken because my desire to choose it as my favourite meal. I could sprout feathers and Marilyn could grow fins.

We just got a call to inform us that our tours have been switched. Now it is an even earlier rise as we head off and ride the rainforest on horseback and by zipline. We are reorganizing our apparel as I type. Boots, helmet, jeans etc. etc.

DAY 5

“She flies through the air with the greatest of ease….” This is Marilyn’s input for today’s post. And fly we did.

Our room service arrived right on time if not a little early as we prepared for the long day of excursion to the rain forest. Our wake-up call also made the announcement as scheduled and we were on way to Buena Vista. It was almost a private tour as there we just four us in total. Our driver picked up another couple who were from South Carolina. He was into cutting horses and his wife rode recreational. It was a good tour for experienced equestrians.

Our first adventure of the day was zip lining. Neither Marilyn or I have ever done this. I knew the hanging part would be OK for me. It was the stopping at the other end I was worried about. Marilyn was uncertain about pushing off into thin air.

We were given a crash course in how to hang on and brake. We were suited up in some heavy duty harness including a helmet. Burdened with a load of hefty clamps and rigging we started the arduous climb up through the canopy of the forest. I’m not sure if it was the heat or elevation, but everyone was feeling the burn and shortness of breath. Eventually we made it to the first of ten zip line stations. It would be the only climb we would have to do at this location. Thank heavens we got to see a few others be guinea pigs before it was our turn. Good Lord… It looked rather intimidating for a bunch of seniors to fly through the forest on a steel cable. With our feet crossed and our hands gripping the harness and line, off we went. Marilyn really got into the swing of it (pardon the pun) by the second run. She overcame her fear of being so high up but I think she really liked traveling at mach speed the truth be known. I could just see her colliding with one of the Toucans that were flying about. We never saw any, but our guide did. I think we were going way too fast to notice anything in our blur. Soon it would be my turn.

I still had reservations about stopping myself in time. The first run was OK. It was somewhere within the first few runs after that, that I came within inches of a big stout tree. Despite triggering the breaker which makes a large crack sound when you hit it a couple of meters from the platform, I heard someone gasp as pulled down hard on the line to stop. I probably stopped 6” from the massive tree. I can just see the headlines: “Canadian senior smashes into giant tree while zip lining in Costa Rica and dies.”  I continued on the runs until we found our way back down. Several times I ended up going sideways as I twisted through the air. The guy from South Carolina went upside down for one of his trips. We were never going to be that daring. I’m still not convinced that I wouldn’t be splattered all over the tree. Well you can check zip lining off my list of adventures.

After zip lining we went to a local eatery to sample some local sweets and cheese. Marilyn and I skipped the water slide through the forest and we are so glad we did. The two Americans had a look of horror on their faces when they finally dumped out of the slide in to the pool. They later told us it was way too fast and hard on the body. He almost went right out of the channel. It left one young man with scrapes on his arms. Despite having an inner tube to sort of protect you from the concrete walls, apparently, you could bottom out and slam your tail bone into the concrete as well. They had leather pads you could wear like a diaper to save your butt. I shutter at the thought of my back and old bones smashing into the concrete. No thanks..

We had a very enjoyable lunch before heading off for our trail rider.

After more twists and turns with the road, we arrived at the stable. There were at least 20 horses wearing tack. Four horses were produced for us to ride. One by one, a horse was led out of the herd as the groom pointed to us individually. Marilyn received a little paint mare. She climbed the large concrete mounting block and stretched her sore leg wide trying to avoid the high cantle in the back. Her stirrups needed to be raised, but otherwise she was good to go. I was the last one to mount up. They pulled a nice grey gelding out for me. I eased down into the hard leather seat that was lacking of any padding. I found my stirrups. No adjustment needed. I picked up the rope reins and off we went following a wide rock strewn path.

We traveled from bridle path to road meeting up with the occasional tractor and vehicle. I gave my little gelding his head and let him pick the path of lesser stone. I figured he’s done this route a thousand times and knows best. The hills were steep and the declines just as nerve wracking. The surface was like cement mixed with loose boulders and rocks making it rather slick. These little horses were handy and surefooted. To our relief, the terrain didn’t lend itself to any gallops. Just a stead walk was all that was required and we were thankful of that. It allowed us time to enjoy the quiet of a jungle forest. Thirty minutes later and one last steep decline that Marilyn was uneasy to do, we arrived at our destination. I dismounted before the groom could come to assist me. I gave my little guy a soft pat before releasing the rein. It seemed really odd that these horses just stood in a group before turning back and finding their own way home. All of the horses were well behaved but in saying that, seemed devoid of any real character or spirit. It was just another day in the hot sun taking tourists along a well beaten path. Hopefully today they felt a difference with the riders on their backs. We were kind to them in the 98 degree weather.

We hopped into a vehicle for a short ride to the hot springs where we enjoyed a much-needed rest. Marilyn and I changed into our bathing suits and walked into the soothing warm waters. Awe, that felt so good. Then it was on to the mud bath. It was a sulfur clay slop you rubbed over yourself. We walked the short distance to the ‘fresh water’ shower which meant cold water. There we washed the grey mud off. Personally, I didn’t find it therapeutic. I’ve experienced a similar thing when a horse splashes me when running through a puddle. To me it felt like the same.

We began the long journey back to the resort, dropping off the South Carolinians on route. This evening we dined at the buffet. We stopped at the coffee shop where we met a couple from Newfoundland. They had just come in after a 10 hour flight today glad to be rid of the snow and sleet they left behind in Bonneville.

Marilyn and I have another early rise tomorrow as we head out to Blue River and a nature walk in the rain forest. We decided to shower tonight. It’s a good thing I did. I missed some of the mud that collected in my bathing suit earlier. Glad to wash away the last traces of that mud bath.

MY LAST FLIGHT - VACATION TO CURACAO

Vacation Log…. Day 1

Rose at 2 am and had a quick coffee and bite with Marilyn before she drove me to the airport. Security was long and tedious. I can’t tell you how many times my passport was scanned and I was checked. I lost count. I had my letter in hand but I didn’t set off any alarms! Thank God. I forewarned them that this might happen and showed them the letter explaining my medical test on Friday.

I arrived in Miami and thank goodness I didn’t have to go through security again. I was in a secure area. The only wrinkle was that the plane we were to take had a problem. When you see the crew getting off the plane you know it isn’t good. I would rather be safe than kiss the Caribbean Sea and be bait for the sharks. Someone had a brain wave to get us a different plane rather than wait 2 more hours for them to replace a part and fix the one plane we were supposed to fly in. We all took the train and found the platform and gate we needed to be at next. I just followed the crowd and made small talk so I could identify with other passengers in case I got lost.

Funny enough when I went to get on the bigger plane, they wouldn’t allow my carry on. That was a dilemma. I didn’t chance my lap top in my suitcase so I had to check my carry on with all my meds and the extra wallet with money in it which I forgot about until afterwards. Now I was really stewing. At least the suitcase was locked. Then I worried that my luggage wouldn’t arrive with me now that the plane was changed. (That’s happened to me before.)

The next leg of my trip was uneventful other than a few bumps with turbulence here and there. Cruising at an altitude of 37,000 feet and an outside temperature of -50, it is hard to imagine life below as you sail through the heavens.

We were two hours late arriving in Curacao and I was anxious about my meds and money in my carry on. As we were deplaning and heading down the escalator to immigration, a fist fight broke out in front of me. These two big boys were going at each other right on the escalator. One security guard arrived and tried to quell the fight. I was ready to back peddle on the escalator as I didn’t want to end up right in the middle of the skirmish. By the time the escalator reached its location, I took a wide berth of the guys duking it out. One lone security officer was left to handle the situation. I can sympathize with him being a former security guard myself for a brief stint. Welcome to Curacao!

After breezing through immigration, I found my luggage and immediately retrieved it. Luckily my ride to the hotel was still waiting for me holding a sign with my name on it. Hurray!

After a shower to wash away the day’s travel I sat down to a glass of Merlot and a rib eye steak. It satisfied my hunger after only eating mini pretzels that the airline gave out and a ham sandwich costing $15 U.S., oh yes and Marilyn’s toast.

It is gloriously warm with an ocean breeze making that 84 degrees’ wind chill quite comfortable. It is a desert like Island but the water is so blue. I can see why so many of the travelers were divers and snorkelers. Not me. I’ll stay by the safe pool with no sea monster.

In closing, I think medals should be handed out to airline travelers for what they have to go through today. This will be my last attempt at flying anywhere again. I’m just not cut out for all the rushing, technology driven way of doing things and the horrendous crowds and lineups. It’s for a younger generation I’m afraid. That being said, there were some very kind people who helped me through the process today, mostly fellow passengers who endure this year after year.

Vacation Log - Day Two

I arose about 8 am and prepared myself with facial sunscreen before heading off for breakfast. The place was empty of guests so I had my pick of tables and left over scraps from the buffet at my choosing. I had a long chat with the server and she showed me where to shop and about the floating bridge. After finding a shopkeeper who spoke English, he pointed in the direction of a pharmacy so I could purchase my Deep Woods Off and 50+ sunblock. I also grabbed a bottle of water which was a godsend in the heat. I was prepared for a little walk about. 

I wish I knew Spanish or Dutch but most understand English and are fluent. I can’t even detect an accent of any kind which is unusual. Off I went to check out the main shopping district after crossing the floating bridge. I felt like I was tipsy making my way across it to the other side. I watched the waves crash against the seawall on my journey over this unsteady walkway. I paced myself as I knew I wasn’t use to the heat although it didn’t feel that bad with the strong gusts of ocean breeze.

I stopped for lunch by the canal and had my ‘once a year’ beer. They had small bottles there so it was perfect. Not feeling well, I don’t need anymore prompt to being woozy. I made sure I walked off the little bottle before tackling the floating bridge again on my way back.

I had a sandwich and noticed the pigeons walking about looking for crumbs. A few were missing their toes and walking only on their knuckles. Being a bird lover I took pity on them as they cocked their head in recognition of my noticing. Quietly I slipped small pieces of my bread under the table trying to be discrete. One by one the birds came until I had about 8 tickling my toes with their tiny feet running across my sandals. I think a few other guests noticed something or perhaps thought I was a bird whisperer.

notice his left foot missing toes

I made my way back across the bridge feeling a bit melancholy after passing by the jewelry shops which seemed to trigger thoughts of my recent theft. After a quick visit to a local museum, I retreated to my air conditioned room and showered off the bug spray and sunscreen before taking a nap.

As late afternoon approached, I decided to trek over that floating bridge again and look for a restaurant. I found one tucked away off the main drag and settled down to a hamburger and salad. I asked if they sold a wine cooler. The poor guy literally picked out a wine cooler but not the drinking type. He went on to say it was not for sale. I giggled and explained it was the drink I was after. The owner produced a bottle of sparkling wine cooler and poured me a glass.

The meal was actually delicious and better than the $50 meal I had last night. Once again a little bird perched himself on the armchair beside me and I couldn't resist feeding it. The sparrow like bird eventually took it from my hand. So I shared my dinner with another feathered friend while missing my own at home.

By six o'clock the sidewalks roll up and as I learned so does the floating bridge! I approached some Dutch tourists and asked if they knew how to get across the channel without having to swim it? They pointed to a ferry down the way that would taxi me over. I caught the ferry in time and made my way back to my lodging. The evening is lovely and that ocean breeze heavenly as I sit by the pool typing this post. Despite all the Deep Woods Off I'm wearing I'm still getting bit. I hope I don't acquire that Zica? virus. It's dark now and only 7 pm.

Vacation Log - Day 3

This morning I sauntered down the long winding hill that spills out onto the main thoroughfare. I had spied a canal site restaurant last night so I decided to try breakfast there. The winds were gusty so I took my napkin and tucked it away in my purse along with my array of pills. Afterwards I decided to walk the floating bridge again but this time taking a different route once I had crossed over.

I timidly explored another section following the seawall for a while. As long as I could see other tourists I felt I was OK. This new avenue brought me to municipal buildings and the police station. Along the way I snapped a few photos and took some video. Down some other unexplored streets I found another eatery that I will try tonight. Ribs are on the menu there.

It is a cloudy day here with the occasional show of sun. You really must hydrate yourself in this climate so I picked up a soft drink to take back to my room. A can of Coke is $2 U.S. Everything on the island is expensive as everything must be imported. I'm quickly chewing through my meager funds. No lunch today but I did score an orange and banana from the 'all you can eat' buffet this morning.

I took note of my path so I could find the rib shack tonight. Soon I was among familiar shops and streets with the floating bridge straight ahead.

view from just outside my room last night

Like a drunken sailor I stepped onto the shifting floor of the bridge. You don't have to feel alone with your tipsiness. Not everyone has developed the balance of sea legs. Some people stagger more than others while some hang on to the rail for support. It is mostly a gentle pulse of the sea that rolls along but once in a while the strong winds whip up the water and that soft rock becomes a galloping horse.

my breakfast view with the floating bridge in the background

One of numerous statues throughout the city.

After my early morning stroll, I went for my massage. It was a hot stone massage but unlike at home, this tiny girl was not so gentle as she tried to release my very tight muscles. It was more of a therapy massage than a relaxing one. It hurt!

I decided to grab a salad as I was feeling a bit light headed after the massage. I stopped off on my way back to my room at the onsite cafe. I must say it was the saddest salad I have every had and it was just salad - no chicken or anything. It looked and tasted like yesterday's castoff. The lettuce was limp with the edges trimmed in brown and soggy. Only the croutons were half way decent. I guess we Canadians are way too polite to complain. I ate it despite the fact I wouldn't feed it to my dogs. Here is a photo of the lame salad. You tell me.

After that sorry excuse for a salad, I decided to wade into the pool. I have the entire place to myself. Thank God! I forgot that even though the girl had toweled off some of the oils, my feet were still slippery. I hung onto the railing as I descended into the pool. When I reached shoulder height I briefly let go of the railing only to slip and get dunked. I'm sure it was a scene out of a Peter Seller's movie. I gathered my composure and looked around to see if there was any maintenance people looking on. Luckily nobody saw my splash! They would have been roaring with laughter I'm sure. After that I watched each footstep as I walked to the shower-off tap. The stone is very slippery when you have the remnants of oil on the soles of your feet. That was the end of my dip in the pool.

I decided to take a nap as I wasn't feeling well. Maybe it was that salad or the heat or both. I retired to my air conditioned room for a spell.

Off I went in search of that place advertising ribs. My dad would have been proud as I'm finally getting my sea legs and can walk that floating bridge without a stagger now. I repeated my travel noting the landmarks I had filed in my head earlier. I walked aimlessly around trying to find the place. I came upon what I thought it was only to see the signs retrieved and the place deserted. I didn't want to get caught again with no bridge to walk across like last night. Just as I arrived I could hear the warning bells going. A tug was making its way out to the port and the bridge had been moved. Luckily they brought the bridge back so I could once again stroll across its wide deck with purpose and stability.

I traveled another section I had gone before. Not too far off were I had breakfast. It was an old place tucked away at the bottom of a hill. As I walked up the steps and into the bar area, I was transformed into another time and space. This was more like it!

I was an hour early for dinner but the staff were gracious and prepared my meal ahead of time. I had told the waitress that I was looking for a better place to eat than my lodging provided. I lucked out with this one. Thank heavens I didn't purchase the 'all inclusive' package with meals. After the salad this afternoon and two other thrown together meals, I'm glad I could make my own choice of where to dine.

It was so nice to to relax to soft music floating on a sea breeze and the warmth of sunshine to heal my aching bones. No arthritis meds since I've been here so there is magic in the sun, sea and air.

Here are a few pictures of my dining tonight. It was as scrumptious as it looks. Scalloped potatoes baked to perfection and the presentation of the main course of beef tenderloin and it's dreamy sauce and vegetables was delightful. They presented me with my dinner 15 minutes ahead of dinner time to boot!

I think I must have looked Dutch. She talked fluently to me as though I was Dutch. I smiled and responded back in English. She immediately switched language with that Dutch flavour to its tone. It is a somewhat confusing island with dialects of Dutch, English, Spanish and a mix of all three to have its own language. Surprisingly, not everyone speaks English. I hear more Spanish than anything.

Tomorrow I'm off to a beach on the other side of the island for the day. I will be collected from the hotel at 9:30 a.m. I decided to stay indoors this evening as no amount of deet will deter these mosquitoes. I have so many bites. I think they are immune to Deep Woods Off.

My dining room tonight.

Hot roles with creamy garlic butter and spices to start.

The main course.

  Vacation Log - Day 4

I had a leisurely breakfast before catching the shuttle to the sister resort on the other side of the island where I could spend time on the beach for the day. With all the winding turns and ring roads, it would make anyone who suffers from car sickness feel really bad. I was a bit queasy by the time we arrived but the feeling soon lifted once things stopped moving about.

This by far was my best day. I'm no city girl. This was more to my liking. Few people and wildlife abounding. I was in heaven with my feathers.

I've never seen so many unusual birds. A flock of small wild green parrots squawked their way by. I recognized that sound immediately. There is no mistaking parrot calls. I felt I was back with my birds and thinking of Num Nums who is about the same size of these. There were so many of the Island's national bird the Trupial. Their vivid yellow, black and white feathers were striking. There was one little songbird I did recognize and one which I once owned. It was the brilliant yellow Saffron Finch. Then there were the 'Sugar' birds and small doves, beautiful sparrows as well as a Wren version of some species. (I must look them up so I can identify them properly.) The best part was that they all joined me for lunch. Just me and the birds - no one else. I did manage to take a short video of the crazy Canuck talking to the birds and inviting them to feast with me, which they all did. Timid at first, they eventually came to me and ate some of my lunch.

I made my way to the beach and found a nice hut to hide from the sun. I read my book and then let the ocean wash over my feet and ankles. That was it. I had watched the drivers and snorkelers struggle to keep their balance just wading in so I wasn't about to embarrass myself like yesterday by slipping and falling when a big wave would rush the shore. I'm terrified of the pull of the sea and respect its power. I'm quite content to be a land lover. My father on the other hand loved the sea and anything to do with water in general. I never inherited his love of water. But then again he never could be comfortable around horses. Touche.

The Island is lizard land and at this location I have never seen so many. Iguana's rule here and this location was loaded. I'm not a lizard fan so I was cautious of these mini Komodo Dragon looking creatures. They are harmless but ugly. One approached my lounge chair. It shook its head up and down, so I did the same. I'm not sure what the message was, but maybe it was its way of saying hello. At any rate it passed me by and went on its way.

As I walked the grounds checking out the blooming bushes that must require a good amount of water to survive in the cactus barren lands, I noticed hundreds of smaller lizards running to nowhere in particular. They scurried about as I walked by. Then the occasional Iguana would cross my path. They might seem slow, but if frightened, they can really scamper!

I arrived back at the lobby waiting for my 3 pm ride back to 'civilization.' The vehicle had experienced a flat tire on route so it was an hour late picking myself and another passenger up. Some of the staff hitched a ride back to their towns. I had been offered a coffee and surprisingly enough an attendant passed me a cup and saucer while I was seated in the van. "Oh dear." I thought to myself. I'm not good at holding things, never mind being in a moving vehicle on windy roads. The ladies were chuckling and told our female driver to take it easy on the bumps since I had a hot cup of coffee that I was precariously balancing in one hand. I told everyone to stay clear of me as I held the cup and saucer out to the side. Our speedy driver slowed longer enough for me to more or less empty the cup of its contents. Then it was full speed ahead. I must say, it is unusual to find a woman driver these days that can handle a stick shift with ease. As the palm trees whizzed by, I hung onto the handle. They don't seem to use seat belts here.

I arrived at my destination and retreated to my air conditioned room for a bit. Tonight I laid plans to go back to the same restaurant I frequented last night. I was not disappointed. As darkness quickly swallowed up the light of day, I walked with purpose down the narrow dark streets back to my lodging. With key in hand I entered and locked the door behind me. Tomorrow I pack and head home. I'm hoping smooth sailing this time but who knows.

Here are some pictures from today.

Looking down from the "enter at your own risk" location.