Ice Baths in the Jungle

Hey everybody,

I'm on a streak of Central American countries the last few years.  Dawn again couldn't join me so I had to pick somewhere relatively closeby.  I was trying to figure out where to go when my buddy Julian said "Why don't you look for a Wim Hof method class?"  I'd been practicing the WHM for a couple of years before all this life business happened with the new job and the house which someday I will write about and yes I will call that post "The Money Pit."  Anyhow, the timing was that there was a WHM retreat in Costa Rica in early August.  So I signed up and immediately got a phone call from the trainer telling me to start taking daily cold showers and hiking 3x/week for at least 45 minutes.  Oh, and bring a headlamp and boots (for snakes).

I was on the fence about whether or not to rent a car given that I was traveling alone.  It turned out to be a good decision because it's the rainy season and I'd have the autonomy to travel on my own schedule.  When picked up my Suzuki Jimny 4x4, the rental guy had four pieces of advice:  Drive defensively, don't offer the cops a bribe if they pull you over, don't try to drive through a river, and use Waze because there are no addresses in Costa Rica (!).

I spent my first few days in Uvita, a small village in the southwest corner of CR right on the Pacific coast.  The area around Uvita is known for whale watching and surfing, although there are much better waves for the latter farther north.  Given that it was rainy season, the town was relatively desolate which suited me just fine.  The only time I ever saw people was at restaurants or when I went on a whale watching boat tour.  The Marino Ballena national park is an aquatic area off the shore of Uvita that is known as a migration stop for Humpback whales.  We saw several whales and their calves swimming a few dozen feet from our boat.  The boat dropped me off on a small offshore island named Whale's Tail which is connected by a sand bridge to the mainland during low tide.

It rained during most of my stay in Uvita which suited me just fine.  The best time to be on a beach is during a rainstorm because you get it all to yourself.  It's magical.  Besides, tropical rain isn't really rain anyway.  It's showering with your clothes on.  I will also take a brief interlude to dispense unsolicited travel advice:  If you're going to bring board shorts/swim trunks on your trip, make sure to try them on before you go.  Apparently I've put on a few pounds in the last 5 years, so I was sporting a wicked muffin top while fighting to keep the velcro fly from flying open every time I hit a wave.  The sun finally decided to make an appearance on my last morning in Uvita, giving me a glimpse of the entirety of the gorgeous coastline and beach bookended by cliffs.  I can imagine what it's like in high season, but on this day there were only a few folks out for a stroll and a small surfing class in the whitewash.

Costa Ricans are known as "ticos" and their national slogan is "Pura Vida" which, as far as slogans go, is quite good.  You hear it announced over the airplane loudspeaker as you land and it's plastered on advertisements all over the airport.  I wasn't sure if it was some kind of marketing, although folks did occasionally use it as a greeting.  Especially surfers.

After Uvita it was a couple hours drive south nearly on the border with Panama to the location of the WHM retreat; a sustainable treehouse community called Finca Bellavista.  I had zero idea what to expect either from the location or from the retreat itself.  It took about 15 minutes of offroad 4-wheeling to get to the site of the Finca in the midst of the southern jungle of Costa Rica, and it was more beautifult than I imagined.  Finca Bellavista sits on 600 acres of rainforest with a river, waterfall, organic garden, hiking trails, monkeys, sloths, tropical birds and snakes.  And bugs.  The base camp is a large wooden building where folks hang out and meals are served, and there is a little rancho on the side with a large deck and a covered space for yoga and happy hour drinks.  The treehouses themselves are all privately owned but centrally managed, and our particular treehouse was owned by Ian, the WHM instructor leading the retreat.

It turns out only three of us signed up for the retreat:  me, a Bulgarian/Israeli guy named Yati who's been living in Costa Rica for 14 years, and Wallace, a 71-year old retiree from Beaufort, South Carolina.  Quite an eclectic mix.  The retreat itself was a fantastic experience.  We had a regular routine of waking up at 5AM, which is really fucking early, except that's when the sun comes out in Costa Rica and the entire jungle around you wakes up.  Maybe someone can explain to me why, if Costa Rica is parallel with Florida, it is two hours behind the eastern time zone.  Anyhow, it was a 45 minute hike down from the treehouse to the base camp, where we'd start off the day with intense breath work.  We did five cycles of deep breathing and retention, each day with a different focus.  The breath work is what got me hooked into the WHM in the first place, because I discovered I can use these techniques for relaxation, for energy, or to simply connect with your body.  After the breath work, Ian would take us through a very relaxing guided meditation, and lastly, the ice bath.  When I mention ice baths and cold showers that's usually when people tune out anything I have to say about the WHM.  If you've never been in an ice bath, you should try it.  The key is to learn to relax and breathe normally when your body is telling you to get the fuck out.  If you can learn to go with it, the feeling can become quite pleasant.  It will give you more energy than 10 cups of coffee.  There's quite a bit of information on the web on the benefits of ice baths (cardiovascular health, reduced inflammation, brown fat production) but it's the internet so take it with a grain of salt.  All I know is that it feels great... usually when it's over but still!  An ice bath in Costa Rica, however, requires one of the Finca employees to drive to a nearby town and pick up over 200 lbs of ice each day.  Every day after this cycle had been completed I felt amazing.  I learned quite a few new breath techniques that I'd love to share.  If you're interested I'd be happy to talk you through them next time I see you.

In the mornings and afternoons we'd go on hikes up the river to the waterfall, where you could lie on a rock and let the water rush over you.  We'd try more breathing exercises with pushups, including once where we performed breath work in a downpour on a deck overlooking the canopy of the jungle.  One day we drove up into the hills because Yati insisted that he could find magic mushrooms if we could get to a cow pasture (no luck).  I forgot to mention that Yati is also a natural medicine specialist.  He showed us a natural coagulant called Dragon's Blood made out of tree sap that you can use to form a pellicle over cuts and bites.  He also somehow talked me into putting some kind of local honey in my eyes after insisting it would clear up my vision.  The ensuing 10 minutes of nonstop crying could broadly be described as "clearing my vision" so technically he was correct.

There were a few other tourists staying at the Finca, although we mostly talked to the staff and volunteers who worked there.  The volunteers are mostly backpackers who exchange work (clerical, manual, teaching yoga, etc.) for a place to stay.  The intersection of people who are willing to travel to Costa Rica for a WHM retreat and backpackery volunteers produces interesting topics of conversation, including (but not limited to):

• Nutrition
• Physical and Mental health
• Natural medicine and remedies
• GMOs
• Microdosing psilocybin
• Mass hypnosis
• Vibration levels
• Mind control
• Vaccines being used for pacification
• Fluoride being used for pacification
• Tooth fillings being used for pacification
• Alien abductions
• Reptilians

I've been in a pretty square routine the last few years and it's nice to be reminded that there are multiple ways you can choose to live your life.  I didn't agree with (or even understand) some of the subjects that folks were talking about, but I enjoyed listening to the different perspectives.  That being said, if someone had mentioned "flat earth" I would have lost my shit.

I needed that retreat.  After four days in the jungle I felt more relaxed and energized than I have in a very long time.  My retreat companions were wonderful company, and I especially connected with Yati.  Some folks just have a good vibe about them.  After saying goodbye to my new friends, I had one more day before needing to head home so I decided to stay in Dominical, a small surf town a bit north of Uvita.  While this little town is easily walkable in less than 20 minutes, it contains many shops, restaurant and bars on the way to its renowned surf beach.   It even has its own microbrewery, Fuego Brew Co, that produces fairly decent beers.  I spent a couple of afternoon hours on the beach watching the surfers, and decided screw it I'm surfing too.  That excursion lasted approximately 30 minutes and mostly consisted of me popping up and then flying off a surfboard into the whitewash.  I got up once, and that's enough to say I've surfed in Costa Rica.

Overall, I loved Costa Rica and would be happy to return.  People are friendly, it's easy to get around, the food is good, I ate a lot of ceviche, the landscape is beautiful, the beaches are beautiful, the Pacific is surprisingly warm, and there are a ton of things to do.  I'd like to come back with Dawn someday and see more of this country.

Coming back home was a bit of a culture shock after I was able to detach so completely, and I thought I should try to get my thoughts into words quickly before I lost them.  I'm no longer on Facebook so this story may not make it out to all the folks that might be interested.  Feel free to share this with whomever you think would enjoy it on your preferred social media platform.

Without further ado, to view the photos click on this link:
https://photos.app.goo.gl/w3XGUHf2uvD974628

Take 'er easy,
Dave

Velia Leoni (April 1, 1916 – January 14, 2019)

Hey everybody,

This isn't a travel story, but it's kind of an amazing story anyway.  My grandma passed away a few weeks ago and to say she had a remarkable 102 years on earth is a bit of an understatement.  I'm going to let the text of my mom's eulogy speak for itself.

Take 'er easy,
Dave

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In 1912, my mother’s nineteen-year-old parents Giulio Bertolucci and Assida Baldini were married in Viareggio, Italy. (Our native Viareggio is a Tuscan coastal town of beach resorts, fisherman, merchant marines and famous for its winter Carnival).

Like many contemporaries, my grandparents decided to come to America to improve their lives.  My mother’s mother had a brother and uncle in San Francisco, so they came to the city by the bay, infamous Barbary Coast and all. They settled, of course, in the Italian neighborhood.

In 1913, Nonno Giulio and Nonna Assida welcomed baby Raffaello and on April 1, 1916 my mother was born in San Mateo close to here on Delaware Street (near San Mateo High School). At that time, my grandfather, a masonry contractor was working on the Carolands Mansion in Hillsborough.

When she was 2, Velia survived the devastating Spanish Flu pandemic.

The family moved back to San Francisco and survived WWI.

My grandparents worked long hours with the goal of returning home, so my mother and uncle were cared for by English-speaking nuns at a day-care center. As a result, when Velia was 3 and her family returned to Italy, she only spoke very broken Italian.

When she got to Viareggio, Velia was teased mercilessly. That experience marked her for life, so much so that she resolved to learn the language of any place where she might find herself.
Velia grew up with many of her first cousins in the same apartment building.

Little Velia was a tomboy. She was strong and fast.  She tried to play with her brother and the other boys. She often heard, “Go away, you’re a girl!” The few times they did let her play, she beat them.

Velia was generous.  She often gave up her small allowance to her beloved Raffaellino so he could go to the movies. She knew her brother dreamed of becoming a silent film director.

My grandmother loved to tell this story: When Velia was in 5th grade in Viareggio, my grandmother heard a knock at the door.  She opened the door, surprised to see my mother standing there with her 5th grade teacher (who had been my mother’s teacher for 5 long years).  The teacher said, “There is one month left before elementary school ends.  She’s smart, she’s graduating.  Just keep her home.  I can’t deal with this anymore!”

Sadly, loss was a recurrent theme in Velia’s life: When Velia was 11, she lost her only brother, who was 14, to peritonitis. Velia also mourned the deaths of young uncles and an aunt.
Velia’s first cousins became brothers and sisters to her, a feeling she maintained all her life.  She is the last of her first cousins to pass away.

As a teenager, Velia lived in Nice, France where my grandparents owned an Italian restaurant.  Those were her happiest childhood memories.  As she had resolved earlier, she quickly learned French and got up at 4:00 am to go to the market and buy fresh ingredients for the restaurant.
Velia also lived in Corsica, Sicily and Sardinia during the time my grandfather co-owned a wholesale produce business.

At 17 Velia helped at her uncle’s produce store in Viareggio.  Across the street was the Leoni Pharmacy. Velia met Angelo Leoni (better known to family and friends as “Gioli” and as Babbo – Tuscan for Dad – to us). He was the love of her life.

As in Romeo and Juliet, our Babbo’s wealthy family fought against this relationship for 5 years and tried everything to break them apart. Despite their efforts, there was something about Velia my dad could not resist. They married in April 1939 and moved to Venice, another of my mom’s favorite places, where life was very good for a brief time until WWII erupted.

My father went off to a war that Italians predicted would last for only two weeks. My parents went south to the region of Puglia where my father was stationed until a pregnant Velia went back to Viareggio with her parents because they thought they’d be safer there.  Wrong.
They soon had to abandon Nazi-occupied Viareggio and seek refuge in the nearby village of Bozzano. There, in her 7th month of pregnancy, she gave birth to twin girls, Margherita and Elisa. The only available medical help was a midwife and one, very old doctor.  The first baby died at 10 days old and the second at 12 days old.

Shortly thereafter, my father was taken prisoner by the Germans and swept off to a Polish labor camp. Hitler refused to declare Italians as prisoners of war, so the Geneva Convention rules did not apply. We can only imagine what took place at those camps. While trying to survive the bombings and invasions in Italy herself, Velia did not know for 16 months whether her husband was alive or dead.

Thankfully, my father returned home after the war 100 lbs lighter and in terrible condition but he was alive! They had another baby girl in 1946. Elisa caught pneumonia at six months and died. I was the 4th daughter.

In 1950 in Velia’s early 30s my parents followed my grandfather to the US hoping to make a better life for us. Though educated, my mother and father spoke no English. She learned English but never lost her accent.

They settled in the Bay Area and later my little sister Sirenetta was born at Mills Hospital in San Mateo.

They had a dream of returning to Italy that never came true.
My father became a U.S. citizen. He and my mom were proud to be in America. They never missed voting in an election. They loved celebrating Thanksgiving and the 4th of July.

Our home was open and welcoming. When it came time to set the table, we would routinely ask, “For how many people?” 20 guests were not uncommon on the weekends, eating great food, drinking Italian wine and often singing and dancing.
Velia and her mother were gourmet cooks, so people were deliciously surprised, especially at the Holidays where Tuscan traditions were maintained and preparations took days.  Everything, even bread was fresh and from scratch and the magic was in each and every detail.

In Velia’s later years, she won several awards for her home-made vinegar.

She was very intuitive and smart.  She was genuinely curious about people. And the woman could talk like no one else I’ve ever known.

Velia talked to everyone, from relatives to the mail carrier, our teachers, neighbors or complete strangers and remembered the smallest details about their lives.

She was thin skinned and never forgot if she felt offended by what someone said or did.  There was a “Velia List” if you know what I mean.  I was on it often.  Some of you were too.
When she spoke to others, however, she had no filters. How many times did we think, “I can’t believe what she just said!?!!”

Our parents worked very hard at several endeavors: For a few years, they owned “Leoni Imports” on Burlingame Avenue.  However, my father’s post-war life was scarred by frequent bouts of ill health.  My mother had many health challenges as well. She was famous for going to doctors regularly. Some became family friends.

After all she’d been through, depression, anxiety and fear were her frequent companions.

Velia was a very strict and protective mother, partly because she feared what might happen to us.

I had been living in Italy for 11 years when my father passed away in March of 1980. In September of that year, my sons and I moved back to Burlingame to be with my mother and sister.

Grief for my father was strong with Velia but she told us repeatedly she got through it thanks to the company of her little grandsons David and Angelo Bresci who were the lights of her life to the end.  In fact, Sirenetta and I became invisible: My sister and I could be in a room and our mom would totally ignore us in a rush to hug her grandsons. We knew where we stood and that was alright.

I was required to travel extensively for work.  I was only able to do so because I knew my sons had a second home, would be well-taken-care-of and had someone who’d watch them like a hawk!

Although dementia marred her last years, Velia continued to socialize, eat her healthy Italian diet and frequently visit all her doctors who were amazed at her physical strength and health.

She was tenacious, spirited, ornery and the most determined person I have known.

For Velia, it was family first. She had a real soft spot for my husband John.  She immediately loved his children Julie and David and David’s wife Mai.  She was especially thrilled by little Maddie who blessed our family with her presence 2 ½ years ago.  Velia and Maddie were fascinated with each other.

She lovingly welcomed my son Dave’s girlfriend Dawn into our family.

Velia considered friends extended family. Many of you felt that love.

Even in her last few years, as her dementia increased, our mother enjoyed being with family and friends, eating good food and, of course, talking.  Towards the end, she even started singing.
I am comforted by and proud of the fact that I produced her two most wonderful and cherished gifts.  Nothing lit up her eyes and made her as proud as her adored grandsons Dave and Angelo.

I want to honor and thank my sister, Sirenetta. Some of you have dealt with dementia and Alzheimer’s.  It takes unbelievable devotion, love, strength and patience to confront that terrible affliction. Sirenetta was lovingly there for my mom 24/7.  She is our hero!

Addio e grazie, Mamma.  Stai tranquilla.