A month ago, I talked myself out of writing this.  I was too upset, too angry.  I didn’t want my grief to get the better of me and have me blaming someone else for my pain.  But now, as you’ll see, the situation has changed and others have been affected and I want to do what I can to help prevent more animals and their people from going through the same thing.

We had lived in Doha, Qatar for almost a year when my husband Cj got an offer that was too good to pass on, so we started packing our belongings and planning to move to Dubai, UAE.  Having gone through an international move the year before, we knew that there was a lot to do; especially to move our two boxers, Timber and Toby.

As soon as Cj accepted the job offer, I contacted a pet relocation agency in Doha that we had used the year before to bring the dogs into Qatar.  We had had a fairly easy time getting the arrangements made for their import, having the dogs picked up at the airport and delivered to their new home.  We felt confident that the same agency could do the export with ease.

With more than a month to make the necessary arrangements, we didn’t expect any problems.  We hired another relocation company in Dubai to handle the import process, we made reservations at the only hotel in Dubai we could find that would accept the dogs.  We had worked everything out so that the dogs would go into the boarding kennel in Doha for three days after we departed, then they would join us in Dubai.  Per the instructions we were given by the relocation agent, the dogs were treated with Advantix and had Preventic collars put on in preparation of their boarding.

Things started to go wrong when the relocation agent came to pick up the dogs.  She informed us that the airline she had planned on booking would not accept the shipment, the travel crates were too big.  She would try the dogs in the next size down crate and see if that would work.  If not she would make other arrangements or have the dogs driven to Dubai.  It turned out that Timber, the smaller female, would fit in the smaller crate, but Toby, the 45 kilo male, would not.  The agent would check around different airlines, she was sure she could make other arrangements.

We left for Dubai a little concerned about the dogs arrangements, but we had been assured that they’d be well cared for at the boarding facility and they’d be on their way to Dubai soon.

For the next three weeks, we waited impatiently while the agent kept trying to find a flight for the dogs.  As it happened, the majority of airlines had just put in place a ban on flying short-nosed dogs and boxers are on the list.  We requested special permission from several airlines, but none could help.  Meanwhile, we kept requesting that the agent make the arrangements to have the dogs driven to Dubai.  As the route includes a  brief stretch through KSA, a special visa is necessary for the driver and additional documents would be needed for the dogs.  Each time we spoke with her, she put off the drive option saying that she was exploring a promising lead with another airline.

During the time that the dogs were stranded in Doha, our dear friend and former housekeeper, Mali, was visiting the dogs at the boarding kennel, which is operated by the woman running the relocation agency.  Each time Mali visited she would call us in tears.  She didn’t like the people at the kennel, she was upset that the dogs hadn’t had a bath, Toby was losing weight.  Mali always treated the dogs like her children - she fed them, walked them and gave them baths twice a week.  We should have listened closer to what she was saying.  Unfortunately, Mali has a tendency towards melodrama, and we assumed that she was over-reacting.  Plus, our vet had wanted Toby to lose five kilos and we had instructed the kennel to feed him the food we provided at the rate for a 40 kilo dog.

We did speak with the woman who runs the kennel, and we were reassured that Timber and Toby were doing well.  They’d get a bath.  Everything was fine, but sure, they were sad missing us.


Our frustration level was growing daily.  I spent a portion of each day in tears, hating that the dogs must’ve felt abandoned by that point.  About three weeks had passed.

A friend of Cj’s had been following our frustration on Facebook and he offered to drive the dogs from Doha to Dubai.  He’s not a dog person, but he just wanted to help.  Again, there are a lot of requirements to drive through KSA with dogs, but he was willing to go through the visa process and everything else if we’d just get the necessary paperwork for the dogs.

I contacted the agent to find out what she had learned about the KSA travel requirements.  Not much.  Just enough to figure out that it was more complicated than she wanted to deal with, I guess.  I contacted the agent in Dubai to see if they knew anything or could give me a lead as to where to start getting the information.  Luckily, they knew of a vet in Doha who might know more about it.

I immediately sent an email to the doctor.  He didn’t give me any information, but said he was certain that he could get the dogs to Dubai.  Having heard that before, I sent him a terse reply that we had pretty well exhausted every avenue except the driving option.  He again responded that he thought he could help.

Meanwhile, Mali went to see the dogs again.  Again, we got a phone call with her in tears.  She had had to tighten Toby’s collar, because he was losing more weight and in her words he wouldn’t “make a happy face.”  At this point I told Cj that maybe we should call this vet who was so sure he could get the dogs to us and find out what he could do.

Cj called right away and spoke with the vet’s assistant.  He was quite sure that the vet could help.  He also mentioned to Cj something to the effect that they didn’t like the woman who had the dogs.  That caught our attention.  

We started communicating with the vet, who was out of Qatar at the time.  He would get the dogs to us, but we would have to move the dogs to his facility without telling the relocation agent where they were going.  He had had issues with her in the past and didn’t want “more drama with that woman.”   He specifically told me that the dogs would have to be tick-free to stay at his kennel.  The facility they were at was known to have a tick problem and he didn’t want to move that problem to his place.  The dogs would board at the veterinary facility until the doctor came back to Doha in a few days, then he would either get them on a flight or personally drive them to Dubai.  He promised to have them to us by the end of September.

We enlisted the help of the friend who had offered to drive the dogs to Dubai, and another volunteer, asking them to move the dogs from the kennel to the vet.  I notified the relocation agent that our friends would be picking up the dogs.  I told her to make sure they were treated for ticks.  I also lied.  I told her that the friends were bringing the dogs to Dubai.  I didn’t even feel bad about lying.  I had been having bad feelings about her for a while by then.

Our friends took the dogs directly from the kennel to the vet on a Thursday evening. The vet’s assistant was in contact with us regularly and let me know that Toby had a couple of ticks on arrival, but they removed them and treated the dogs with Advantix.

The assistant, I’ll call him M., made me feel very confident about the care the dogs were getting.  He checked with me about the food they were to eat, how often they should be walked, asked about any peculiarities they might have.  He was very understanding when I told him that because Toby was old (he was a rescue so we weren’t sure how old) and a bit lame in the rear legs that we tried to keep him fairly active without over-doing things.

Friday night, I got a call from the vet on duty at the clinic.  Toby was quite ill.  He wasn’t eating, wouldn’t get up on his own, had a fever and was quite depressed.  At that time they weren’t sure of the cause, but wanted my permission to give him supportive therapy and run tests.  

I got off the phone and burst into tears.  My boy was sick and I was far away.  As I mentioned, Toby was old.  We had rescued him 2 1/2 years ago after he had been on death row at a shelter in the States.  He had no lower front teeth to speak of.  He had old bones that troubled him sometimes.  But he had been in excellent health just a month before when he had been seen by no fewer than three veterinarians in preparation for the move.

The first test results indicated a severe kidney infection, and they began treatment.  The next day there hadn’t been much change, and they kept treating him.  He was receiving IV fluids and antibiotics.  On Sunday morning, I spoke with a doctor and learned that Toby was able to lift his head, but was still extremely ill.  They suspected pancreatitis in addition to the kidney infection.  They began treatment for that as well.

Late Sunday afternoon, I got a text message (I had been in the yard when I missed a call) to call the vet immediately.  When I called the doctor told me Toby had died.  He was just too ill to respond to treatment.  

I sobbed and wailed and cried like I never have before.  My poor boy had died all alone.  We knew when we adopted him that he was old and we wouldn’t have him forever.  We had even begun working on his bucket list over the last year, trying to let him have as much doggie fun as he could.  When we got Toby he didn’t really know how to be a dog.  Throw a ball and he’d look at you quizzically.  Stuffed toys were more interesting, especially if they made realistic noises - cows that mooed, ducks that quacked - but still he didn’t know what to do with them.  The first time he got into the garbage bin, I was proud of him for acting like a dog.  I knew he didn’t have many years left, but I had always planned to be with him in the end.  I was devastated and felt terribly guilty that I wasn’t.

Still, we were worried about Timber.  They had also noticed that Timber seemed to have some symptoms of illness and wanted permission to treat her as well.  They gave her a large dose of antibiotics, but later test results were inconclusive for pancreatitis and she began improving.  She was being watched closely and given extra attention by M. since she too had lost a good friend.  Actually, Timber and Toby had a love/hate relationship.  Many times there were battles for territory and food, and sometimes the battles were vicious and bloody.  But over the last year they had settled into a companionable relationship and seemed to enjoy each others company.

When I received an invoice from the clinic, I noticed that the dogs weights were listed.  In 3 weeks, Toby had lost 6 kilos and Timber had lost 3 kilos.  While we had wanted Toby to lose some weight, we were trying for about a kilo a month.  Not 6 kilos in a few weeks.

A few days after Toby’s death, the doctor made good on his promises to me.  He got Timber on a Qatar Airways flight, made arrangements for someone to get her through customs and deliver her to her new home.




Last week I started noticing that Timber was off her food and very lethargic.  She also seemed to be feverish.  She obviously did not feel well.  I took her to the clinic in our neighborhood where she’d already been treated for her grass allergy since her arrival in Dubai.  This time the vet added a medication for stomach upset, an anti-inflammatory for fever and an electrolyte balancing drink.  

Over the next couple of days there were times when she seemed to improve, but then she’d get worse.  On Sunday morning I took her back to the vet.  Her temperature had risen and she was getting dehydrated.  They admitted her for IV fluids and some tests.  They suspected pancreatitis.   A terrible coincidence, as that was the one month anniversary of Toby’s death from the same illness.

Her test results did indicate pancreatitis, and she also had an extremely low white blood cell count.  While they couldn’t account for the low WBC count, they began treatment with steroids for the pancreatitis, fluids for the dehydration and antibiotics for infection indicated by the low WBC count.

When I visited her on Monday, she had definitely improved.  She was perkier.  She was playing with her stuffed Eeyore toy and looked happier.  

Today, Tuesday, I got a call from her doctor.  She’s definitely responding to the pancreatitis treatment, but still has a low WBC count.  They tested for a tick-borne illness (I can not for the life of me recall the name of it) and she tested positive.  They are now treating her with a specific antibiotic that is indicated to treat the disease.  The doctor is optimistic that she will respond well and hopefully be home in another day or so.

The day that Toby died, Timber was treated (through serendipity, perhaps) with the very antibiotic that is used for this disease.  That may have saved her life.  When she received treatment for her skin problems with an antibiotic and a steroid (steroids are the current preferred treatment for pancreatitis) that may also have saved her life.  The vet said that this tick-borne illness may be the underlying cause for the pancreatitis.  Not definitively, but there is some reason to think so.

I have had Timber since she was 8 weeks old.  She is now 8 years old.  In her entire life, I don’t think she had ever had more than 2 ticks.  Until she spent 3 weeks in that boarding kennel in Doha.  In spite of the prophylactic Advantix and Preventic collar, and a tick treatment before he left the kennel Toby had ticks on him in Doha.  Timber has tested positive for tick-borne illness.  She must’ve also been bitten by ticks in Doha, as she hasn’t had one here.  Believe me, I’ve checked.  I’ve always had a pathological fear of ticks.

If Timber developed pancreatitis as a result of this tick-borne disease, there’s a good chance that the same thing happened to Toby.  Sadly, he was much older and in a very stressful situation when he became ill.  It may be that the antibiotics and steroids Timber received in the interim slowed the progress of the illness in time for her to be diagnosed and treated.  I believe she will recover and come home.

Now for the part where I blame some one else for a part of this tragedy.  I won’t be naming that person or the companies involved in this public forum because of the slander/libel laws in the UAE.  I want to educate others about the problems I encountered, but I don’t want to go to jail.

I have figured out that in the planning stages of moving the dogs from Doha to Dubai that the agent did not in fact attempt to make the actual travel arrangements for the dogs in advance.  I’m guessing that she does these things fairly often and just hadn’t run into the problems she encountered in this situation before.  However, when I contacted her more than a month in advance, I sort of expected that she’d start planning then, too.  Apparently she didn’t start her inquiries into flight arrangements until the day she picked up the dogs at my house.  Had we known earlier, we may have been able to come up with a solution sooner.

When she told us the day she picked them up that she would get a flight in the next few days or have them driven by the end of the next week, I don’t know that she ever intended to have them driven.  As things progressed, and we kept asking about that option, she never seemed to make any headway.  Later in the process, I learned from her that obviously, she as a woman could not drive through KSA, and that the male family member she wanted to do the driving couldn’t drive her vehicle without changing the registration.  She now claims that she will be starting a service to provide ground transportation from Doha to KSA and the UAE.

The conditions at the boarding facility seem to be a bit dodgy.  Mali said that the indoor areas were hot (although they are supposedly air conditioned), there is clearly a major issue with disease-carrying ticks, but perhaps of the most concern to me is that it seems that no one there is paying attention to the condition of the dogs being boarded.

Toby lost 6 kilos in three weeks.  A loss of a kilo a week is considered to be at the high-end of what is safe for a full-grown human to lose.  Did no one (other than Mali) notice that he was losing so much weight so quickly?  I wish I had paid more attention to her concerns; I just didn’t realize how much he had lost.

When Toby went to the veterinary facility he was clearly a sick dog.  After seeing the progression of the illness in Timber myself, I don’t understand how the kennel attendants could not have noticed the weight loss, the lack of appetite, that he wasn’t getting enough water, that he had a fever and no energy.  I do realize that a dog being boarded away from home is likely to be a bit depressed and not act as they normally would.  I just think that in 3 weeks someone would have been able to see some of the symptoms of his sickness.  Had I known that he was suffering like that, I would have had him taken to the vet right away.

Just thinking of the suffering and misery Toby went through, all alone, probably feeling abandoned, breaks my heart.  I feel that I failed him profoundly.

I’m thankful that Timber is doing better and hopeful that she’ll recover.  So many things have worked in her favor so far that I believe she’ll be home soon.

Again, I won’t be naming the others in Doha publicly, however, if you need to board your pet and would like my OPINION on where not to go, contact me via email and I will tell you what I think.  I’m also happy to recommend the facility where M. will take excellent care of (as he calls them) your babies.

Being there

 

                It turned out I was quite fortunate in planning my trip for the last week of the season at Luna Lodge.  On my arrival there was a couple staying their last night, but no one other than me scheduled for my remaining time at the lodge.  Having the Luna to myself was really quite extraordinary.  Especially since I’m not really much of a “joiner”, I was able to keep to myself and not seem too aloof or unfriendly.

                The weather at the time was moving into the rainy season, so there were several hours to fill during the occasional deluge.  I didn’t mind much, as I’d brought along plenty of reading material and was quite content to just lounge about doing nothing.  When craving companionship, a quick walk to the rancho and I would find Osa, the dog of the Luna or some friendly staff.  I took a few meals with Lana and her staff and ate a few on my own, looking out over the rainforest.

                My tour package included a number of activities, yet there was one I had to opt out of:  a half-day primary ridge hike.  I had truly looked forward to this particular hike, but my body wasn’t up for it.  I have a chronic pain condition – fibromyalgia – which affects my muscles a great deal.  I really didn’t want to take the hike and spend the rest of my trip being laid up and not able to enjoy the other activities.  Instead I took an easier hike along Shady Lane.  My guide, Oscar, is a self-taught bird and wildlife expert.  From the moment we entered the trail, Oscar began spotting the local fauna for me.  

                Having only brought a little point-and-shoot digital camera along, I didn’t have the zooming ability to get any really good shots, but Oscar (an amateur photography buff) was able to use my camera and his spotting scope to get some great close-up shots of the birds and monkeys we saw.  The mid-point of the hike was an amazing waterfall.  This time, I was braver and climbed down into the pool at the base of the falls. 

                I sat on a log in the water, fascinated by the smoothness of the rock over which the water fell and by the immense roar of the water.  I spent quite some time just sitting there in the spray of the water, watching its ageless progress down the mountain. 

                My big adventure day was to be a horseback ride then a kayak trip through a lagoon.  Edwin, the lodge manager and I loaded up into the Luna Range Rover for the drive down the mountain.  We arrived at a little open-air road side restaurant where my guide would meet me with the horses for the ride to the lagoon.  In drier weather, the lagoon could be reached by vehicle, but as wet as it was we had to take horses. 

                My horse was no beauty, nor was he particularly interested in walking through ankle deep mud and water.  Not that I could blame him; I wouldn’t have wanted to walk either.  With some trepidation the horse followed the guide and his ride through the flooded pasture and into a bit of forest.  The track through the forest to the lagoon was quite muddy and the horse more reluctant than ever to follow, but eventually we made it to the lagoon and put in our kayaks.

                Now, to be honest, it wasn’t the greatest day for kayaking.  Since leaving the lodge the sky had darkened and the wind had come up.  Still, the lagoon was full of beautiful birds I’d never seen before and I enjoyed the scenery.  I was a bit disappointed that we didn’t spot any crocodiles, but on the other hand was glad not to make their acquaintance up-close and personal.  The lagoon was only about 50 meters from the ocean and we could hear the waves crashing, so at one point we beached the kayaks, and climbed over the dunes to the ocean. 

                The beach at that point isn’t very wide and it runs quite steeply into the ocean.  My guide told me that it’s not a good idea to swim there, and with the violent waves, I wasn’t so inclined anyway.  I got a couple of shots of the waves churning against the black sand beach with the graying sky in the background and that was enough for me.  We made our way back to the launching point, stowed the kayaks and rejoined our mounts for the trip back to the restaurant.  As we rode through the little bit of forest, my guide pointed at some capuchin monkeys overhead.  I looked up at the monkeys and at the same time, my horse bashed my knee into a tree trunk alongside the track.  Ouch!  By the time we made it back to the Range Rover, a purple bruise covered my knee.

                Wet and tired, I joined Edwin in the Rover for the return trip to the lodge.  It was early afternoon, and looked like rain was in store.  I was hoping that my knee wouldn’t stiffen up too badly before I had a chance to shower and take some ibuprofen.

                As we made our way down the dirt road to the first river crossing on our trip, we saw that the river had risen noticeably and the current traveling much faster than it had been on our first crossing in the morning.  Thankfully, Edwin is not a daredevil and determined to wait for the river to subside.  He got on the radio with the lodge and let them know of our delay.  He then got out and planted a stick in the bank to mark the level of the water so we could tell if it was going up or down. 

                For about two hours we watched as the water level went up and trees and other debris floated quickly past.  Having been on the radio with others in the area Edwin learned that it had been raining up the mountains and we were seeing the run-off.  At some point, a local transport truck had come up behind us, filled with school children and others making their way home.  As the water receded, Edwin offered to take some of them along with us, since with 4 wheel-drive, we’d be able to make the crossing well before the truck could.  3 adults and 3 children joined us in the Rover and we headed off toward the lodge again.

                At Carate, the 3 kids got out to make their way home in the village.  The others stayed with us as we headed inland toward the mountain and the lodge.  Near the base of the mountain, we came to another river crossing.  The water was running even faster than the last and was much too high to cross.  Again, Edwin radioed the lodge to alert them to the situation and we got out of the vehicle to stretch and wait. 

                By this time, I was still wet and getting a bit chilly and it started to rain a bit.  Not one to be a downer, I bummed a smoke off one of the guys and we sat companionably watching the water flow by.  As it started getting dark, the 3 guys decided to make their way home through the forest.  Edwin and I got back in the Rover to wait.  Edwin had his netbook and as darkness fell, he showed me pictures of his family and we talked about life in Costa Rica.  As full dark came on and the rain kept coming down, we received a call on the radio from the lodge that they were sending some people down to fetch me.

                Some time later (maybe an hour?), the guys from the lodge arrived.  Oscar and Gary came through the dark wearing headlamps and bearing food and drink.  Edwin would stay with the truck, while the 3 of us made our way to the lodge.  The guys gave me a flashlight and let me know they had rope, if necessary.  They then warned me that we’d have to cross the river several times, as there were wash-outs along the paths. 

The very first step we made was into the river.  Wearing only a t-shirt, shorts and my Teva adventure-girl sandals, I stepped in…and was very nearly swept away.  Gary grabbed my hand and held it as we slowly crossed the river.  The water was hip-deep, cold and FAST!  Each step was difficult, because the water wanted to grab my sandals and whisk my feet out from under me, but Gary held fast and we made it.  The first crossing I was a bit nervy, the second I was exhilarated that I had made it, the third I was resigned and by the fourth and last, I was pretty well terrified.  In between the river crossings we hiked along paths I couldn’t have spotted on my own and once even the guides missed and we had to turn back and find it again. 

                After the last crossing the real fun began: the hike up the mountain.  The good news is that we were then following the road.  The bad news was that I was soaking wet, cold, my sandals were full of sand and pebbles, and the road was bloody steep.  And it was still raining.  The initial bit wasn’t too bad.  But as I started up the incline, thighs burning, I wondered just how in the hell I was going to make it to the top.  Again, I’m not one to be a downer.  I wasn’t about to complain.  Especially since these two guys had already hiked down the mountain and crossed the river 8 times in total to fetch me back safely.  So I just kept on.  We stopped a couple times to drink some water along the way, but mostly I was pretty impressed that I was holding my own.

                Then we came to the steepest grade.  My knee was aching and my thighs and calves were killing me.  It became a matter of willpower.  I was counting out 30 steps before I’d allow myself a rest.  Even resting was hard.  The incline was so steep that in order to stop and not slide back down, I’d have to turn to face downhill and then turn my feet outward so I wouldn’t shoot down like I was on skis.  I have no idea how many times I counted out 30 steps, but it seemed to take forever to get to an easier patch of road.  Throughout the hike, Oscar and Gary kept encouraging me and I kept making jokes and smiling.  Finally, as we neared the lodge, the road flattened a bit and the difference was such that I suddenly felt I could walk all night (not that I wanted to, mind you).

                We arrived at the rancho, where Lana waited with glasses of water and a promise of a hot supper.  Dripping wet, I declined the offer of an umbrella to use on my way to my bungalow.  That 3 minute hike was almost enough to do me in.  I was so exhausted all I wanted to do was shower and sleep.  By the time I had soaked in the hot water and changed into some warm clothes, I decided that hunger won out over tired and I headed back to the rancho for the best corn chowder I’ve ever had.

                Dining with Lana, I think she was pleasantly surprised to find that I wasn’t angry or upset over my unscheduled night-time, raging river crossing, mountain hike.  Frankly, I was just impressed that my body had been up to the challenge.  Besides, I went to Costa Rica to experience it.  And that night I really did experience Costa Rica, in all her glory and destructive power.

                Please check out the Luna Lodge website – www.lunalodge.com – the photos and videos are spectacular and you can see for yourself why I’m planning to go back just as soon as I can.

Adventures in Life: Good-bye 2010, Hello 2011!

The beginning of a new year: a time to reflect on the year past and look ahead at what’s coming next.  2010 was good to me.  I really can’t complain.  There was action, adventure, excitement, and travel, a new life in a new place, new friends and even new family.  I even got a new tattoo symbolizing new beginnings.

In 2010 I weaned myself off of my news addiction.  I no longer pore over the internet skipping from one story of tragedy to the next.  I just got to the point that I couldn’t stand it anymore.  There just isn’t much “good” news being reported.  I guess it’s not interesting or sexy enough.  I believe that there is good news in the world, but there’s no commercial gain to be made reporting it.  Sure, there are the occasional “feel good” stories – someone somewhere has reached some well advanced age, or a kitten was rescued from a tree – but by and large the news outlets leave me in the cold with their reports.

I didn’t make a “resolution” to get away from the bad news.  I don’t do resolutions.  They’re too static, and often, in my case, completely arbitrary.  A few years back I took a job in retail for the first time.  I had never worked retail before, but I was desperate and hoped it was only temporary.  I had the good fortune to be hired on at lululemon athletica, a yoga and fitness apparel company.  lululemon encourages personal growth in their employees and communities.  One of the ways of doing that is through a structured, yet dynamic approach to goal setting.

In the workplace, lululemon offers many goal-setting resources.  I was lucky to have had the opportunity to meet with one of the company’s goal-setting gurus, Jeremy, and sit down to explore and fine-tune my goals.  Bear in mind that none of one’s goals were expected to be about lululemon; the goals were up to me.  I still have that original worksheet, complete with Jeremy’s notes and advice jotted in the margins.  Many of my goals have changed; that’s ok, that’s life.

Over the next few days I’m going to sit down with that old goal sheet, and the ones that have come in the years in between and take a good long look at my life and where I want it to go.  I have some new goals to set, some old ones to cross off the list, and some that I’ve accomplished over the past year. 

One of my goals for the next year is to write an article or two about the benefits of setting goals, tracking goals and adjusting goals to the changes in life.  I will share some of my favorite techniques for making changes, taking steps and achieving goals.

PS – another of my goals: By 7 January 2011, I have completed and posted the final article in my series Adventures in Travel: Luna Lodge, Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica.

Whew!  Gotta say: I'm glad Christmas is over! 
  I've really never been very good at Christmas.  For many years, I was just too broke to get into Christmas much.  Couldn't afford much of a tree, couldn't afford much in the way of presents, couldn't afford much in the way of festive food.  Once I got past the too broke years, I guess I left the holiday spirit behind too. 
  These days I get irritated when stores start up with the Christmas decorations in August and I rebel against the pressure by trying to ignore how many "shopping days" are left.  The past few years, I've managed to get in the holiday mind-set a bit more.  Early December, and I start thinking about a tree and decorations and menu planning.  Last year, we even put together a little holiday open house and invited friends for some yummy treats and spirits.
  I think part of my problem is not having babies.  Christmas is for children and when there are no little ones around to impress with the awesome-ness of Santa, it all seems sort of contrived and silly.  When I still thought kids were on my horizon, I always assumed that I'd feel more Christmas-y when I had kids.  I figured I'd resurrect some of my family's traditions (if we had any, I don't remember) and create some new and exciting ones of my own.  Alas, no children and no new traditions.  The good thing about not having children is that I haven't had to decorate my tree with glittery atrocities or put out cheese for Santa Mouse on Christmas Eve.
  I have been blessed with three step-kids.  Unfortunately, I got them as they reached the difficult to shop for years - the teens.  When they were in their early teens, they were too old for toys but not old enough for gift cards alone to cut it.  There had to be presents to open, but each box presented an opportunity to look like a total idiot.  Clothes not only had to be the right size, but had to have the "right" label.  Gadgets needed to be cool and fun and the "right" kind.  The easiest years were 16 and 18.  16 meant that car stuff - accessories, detailing products, even wiper fluid - were good gifts.  At 18 they started getting presents that would be useful to them when they got their own places - microwave, towels, kitchen tools.
  This year, we're half-way around the world from our kids and families.  In the desert where it's still sunny and reasonably warm at the end of December.  We've got a tree in the living room and lights in the yard, but only because our housekeeper insisted, and when we didn't move quickly enough, took matters into her own hands and did it herself.  I would have skipped it entirely this year. I'm just not feeling it.  The kids got money transferred directly into their bank accounts.  We didn't even have any presents under the tree.  I gave Cj tickets for his trip to the U.S. next month.  He gave me a lovely sapphire ring.  He gave it to me early, and it went directly on my finger.
  I had intended to do a little holiday baking and give some treats to our friends and neighbors, but lost my motivation when I had no luck finding peppermint flavoring for the peppermint bark.  My pantry has most of the makings of a light fruit cake, but...maybe next year.
  We did have a lovely Christmas supper with friends.  It was catered by the Doha Ramada and was especially good as I didn't have to lift a finger in the preparation or clean up.  We got a little dressed up, had a few adult beverages, and enjoyed some good food and friendship.  But I'm glad it's over.  Once the tree and lights are put away, I'll forget about them til next year.  Perhaps I'll even look forward to seeing them again next December, but for now I'm glad to see them go.
 

The first time I considered this question I was at a filling station in a miniscule town in North Carolina and saw a sign advertising “Christian Power Yoga” in the window.  I never attended a class, so I can’t say what the differences between Christian Power Yoga and any other yoga might be.  I do, however, know a great many people who identify themselves as Christians and practice yoga.  Personally, I don’t identify myself as a Christian, but rather as someone who is spiritual in my own way.  I have always believed that one’s spirituality happens in your heart, not in church.

Can one be a good Christian or Muslim or Jew and practice yoga?  Why not?  If it opens your heart or connects you to the people and the world around you or makes you physically fitter does that alter who you are inside? 

My yoga practice began as a way to help chronic back pain when surgery and physical therapy and drugs didn’t do the trick.  What I found was something that did help relieve the pain.  I also found that practicing yoga also helps relieve my stress.  Quite frankly, the Sanskrit names of the yoga poses still escape me.  I do not care what you call the poses.  “Tadasana” or “Mountain Pose” makes no difference to me. 

There are many schools and interpretations of yoga.  I know that some classes are “purist” and focus on the Sanskrit terms and the ancient yoga texts.  There are others which are more “westernized” and only use translations of the pose names.  Clearly there is at least one that has “Christianized” the practice through whichever means they’ve chosen.  And there are some (which I’ve attended) that blend all of the above.  My favorite yoga teacher uses Sanskrit, translations and some bits of Christian (and other) wisdom in her classes. 

In studying yoga, I have read some of the Vedas or sacred texts.  I have read about the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali and the various branches of yoga beyond the physical poses.  I like the parts that exhort me to be a good person, to do well by myself and others.  The same things I like about other religions.  Recently I read 40 Days to Personal Revolution, by the well-respected American yogi, Baron Baptiste.  Throughout the book Baptiste makes reference to wisdom imparted through many different religions and philosophies.  In doing so, I felt that he showed that the practice of hatha yoga (physical asana practice) need not be contrary to one’s personal religion, but can be a means to opening one’s spirituality in one’s own way.

In my practice, I honestly don’t give much thought to higher powers or spirituality, I’m too busy trying to learn proper alignment and working with my body rather than against it.  It’s only during “Savasana” or “Corpse Pose” at the end of class that I take a moment to be grateful that my body made it through another challenge.  Sure, I end the class saying “Namaste” and performing Añjali Mudrā (pressing my hands together in front of my heart and slightly bowing my head).  And I mean it.  I honor the light in you that is also in me.  This is just one of the many interpretations of the phrase, but the one I’ve chosen to best representing my feelings.

The trip to the capital city of San Jose was uneventful and relatively brief.  I had arranged to stay in San Jose overnight and start my journey to Luna Lodge early the next morning.  The flight, on a twin prop plane, from San Jose to Puerto Jimenez on the Osa Peninsula in the southwest part of Costa Rica lasted about two hours including a stop in Drake Bay.  The aircraft’s large windows made for a terrific view of the gorgeous green country below. 

Upon arriving in Puerto Jimenez, I was met by a driver in a 4-wheel drive SUV for the 2 hour trip to Luna Lodge in Carate.  The drive was slow going, as much of the “highway” is dirt and gravel and there are several stream and river crossings along the way.  I don’t speak much Spanish and the driver didn’t speak much English, but he pointed out various animals and sights on our route.  At one point, he spotted howler monkeys and spider monkeys in the trees overhead and stopped so I could get out and take a closer look.  

Nearing the beach in Carate, we spotted scarlet macaws and my list of must-see creatures was half-complete before I ever made it to the lodge. 

From the beach, we headed up the mountain to Luna Lodge.  The lodge sits on a mountain adjacent to the Corcovado National Park.  Several river crossings and steep inclines later, we burst into a modest forest clearing, and there was the Luna Lodge rancho. 

As advertised, the staff greeted us with glasses of cool water; a welcome refreshment after the drive in.  Once checked in, I had my first rainforest hiking experience as I headed to bungalow #3.  The path is paved with indigenous stone and meanders through natural gardens up the mountain a bit from the rancho.  The hike only took about 3 minutes, but my legs certainly felt the strain after being mostly stationary throughout the morning’s travels.  I entered my bungalow and was charmed by the simple luxury it offered.  After freshening up, I returned to the rancho for lunch.  Sitting in the open air dining room looking out over the forest to the sea in the distance, I thought – “This is Costa Rica!”

It started years ago when I read a magazine article about eco-tourism in Costa Rica.  The writer described hiking through primordial rainforests, the abundance and variety of native flora and fauna, and I was hooked.  For the past decade, I’ve dreamt of visiting Costa Rica.  Last January, I started to research just where I would go. 

 
My husband and I have never taken a proper vacation holiday.  After 10 years together, we decided that we deserved one.  An advertisement in Yoga Journal magazine sparked my interest in booking a holiday that would be both active and relaxing.  We wanted to take advantage of the recreational activities Costa Rica has to offer while getting off the beaten path. 

My internet research led me to the Luna Lodge website.  At once I knew I had to go.  The website listed a “Rainforest Adventure” package offering hiking, kayaking, horseback riding and bird watching.  The lodge also offered yoga classes and massage services to completely round out our holiday plans.  That evening I emailed an inquiry to Luna.  Over the next several days, via email and phone, we worked out the travel dates and booked the package for September.

Although the trip was months away, knowing that we were finally going to Costa Rica had my spirits soaring.  I was so excited that sometimes I would look at my husband and exclaim– “We’re going to Costa Rica!!!” –out of the blue.

Several months after booking the trip, my husband was offered employment in Doha.  Once the offer was accepted and plans made to relocate, he moved to Doha while I stayed in the States to sort out our affairs and arrange for the move.  We decided that I would stay in the States until after the Costa Rica trip.  Then a problem arose.  With his new position, he wouldn’t be able to go on holiday in September.  At that point, we could have cancelled the trip with an eye to rebooking at a later date.

Because he knew I really wanted to go, my husband suggested that I invite our daughter-in-law, J.  She and I share a love of yoga and enjoy outdoor activities.  J enthusiastically agreed to make the trip.  We would meet in Miami, Florida and fly together to Costa Rica.  Alas, life intervened and J had to cancel.  At that point, I was ready to acknowledge that maybe I wasn’t meant to go to Costa Rica just yet.

  Again, my husband came to my rescue by suggesting I find out how many additional days I could get at the lodge for the same price, going alone rather than a pair.  I emailed the lodge and the proprietor, Lana Wedmore, offered me a few additional days in the same bungalow I had already booked.  Now I could spend 8 days in the rain forest!

I haven’t travelled much and never alone to a foreign country, but I decided that this would definitely be a grand adventure.  After getting the correct documentation and buying the plane tickets I was ready to go.  Ok, I did a little shopping for some rainforest appropriate attire or what I like to call AdventureGirl clothes.  A pair of Teva sandals for hiking and kayaking, some quick-dry shorts, a floppy hat and a backpack and I really was ready to go.

 

the leaves

                fall

                                falling

to the ground

with a crisp dry 

                fall         

                                falling   

sound

in the richly colored crackling carpet

spin round ‘n’ round

‘til I’m dizzy with the scent

                fall         

                                falling

                                                down

looking up through the shedding limbs

                                                I have found

Fall

                fall         

                                falling

                                                to the ground
November 2008

It's been a while since I've written anything substantive.  The last things I published were articles relevant to the aviation industry (yawn), and now I find myself looking for new horizons. 

There's always a lot on my mind, and this blog will be one of the places that I will vent some of my internal chatter.

As an aspiring Daring Adventure Girl, I want to find (and share) the adventures inherent in everyday life.  Some of my recent adventures have been life-changing, i.e.- moving half-way around the world to a place I'd barely heard of six months ago and some are just silly, like grocery shopping in a foreign country.  Sometimes I find myself in child-like awe of the world around me and others times I'm vexed and cynical and jaded.

Adventures await!