The Happy Hippie Hut

Olympia, WA

What’s up all? Well, yes it’s true. I’ve been home for almost a week now, but I feel that you all deserve closure on my Costa Rica vacation. Hmmm. Does that cross the pretentious line? Nah. So in the last email, I illustrated my time in Puerto Viejo and how I met Laura and Jolen, a nice couple from San Diego. Well they convinced me to head south with them to the Happy hippie commune (my name, not theirs) in Punto Mono or point monkey in English (that one’s real), down near the Panama border. The commune is four miles from the nearest town, so we had to take a boat to get there (or make a long muddy hike through bug and snake infested jungle which I would have been all for if not for my laziness), but it was scenic and we enjoyed the ride over the rolling waves.

The commune itself is beautiful. It’s fairly self-sustaining with subsistence farming, solar power and is tended to with peace, love, harmony and other bullshit. I kid. Actually, the people there were very nice and very welcoming. Only a couple of them had that disconcerting, vacant, everything’s just so fucking beautiful I just can’t handle it and might have to machete crazy, look in their eye.

The fact is I’m totally used to the vegan, soy-based, non-animal tested, organic, communal lifestyle. At Evergreen I’m surrounded by it, after all, and I can definitely appreciate certain aspects of it. Nonetheless, it was certainly entertaining to watch Laura’s reaction when she was informed by a long curly haired Israeli dude, that basil is an herb, not a spice, as we all held hands in a large circle around our recently prepared and blessed dinner and one-by-one told the group our name, where we were from and our favorite spice.
That night, after numerous games of shithead (the card game I mentioned last email) there was a truly kick-ass drum circle (one thing hippies can do better than almost anybody). Everybody had an instrument and/or was dancing. There were guitars, flutes, obviously drums and other knick-knacks to beat, shake or rattle. I had a maraca. Not a pair of maracas. Just one. Which, honestly, fits right in there with my musical abilities.

We stayed for two days, basking the quiet glory of a peaceful place. Finally, however, we had to make the long trek back to San Jose. My new friends headed on to Monteverde, where I started my trip and I came home.
So here I am. A week into the new quarter, sitting in my school’s library writing this email, about to walk through the cold drizzle to my house. I can feel the heartfelt pity your sympathetic souls are sending me right now. Thank you. I appreciate it. Be good. Moe.