2016

In my previous blog post, I detailed a bone rattling encounter with an enormous, crocodilian iguana in Costa Rica. I concluded by warning the reader that if you fear grotesque reptiles, Costa Rica is not the place for you. However, as one of my classmates pointed out in the comment section, I did indeed return to the rainforested Central American country. Again, this was not a normal family vacation. It was entirely school related. Uni High’s Spanish language class’ biennial excursion to different Spanish speaking countries took us to Nicaragua and Costa Rica that year. It required copious amounts of willpower to venture back, but, like the first trip, was an incredible experience. This time, there was much more than the tropical fruits and warmth and such. Through hours of driving, hiking, and even zip lining, Costa Rica’s magnificence was further exemplified. And best of all, I came across no scary lizards! All this being said, the humorous pessimist I try so hard to be is obligated to recall a harrowing interaction at a chocolate museum.

When our tour guide announced that we would be visiting a chocolate museum, I was ecstatic, as chocolate is very good when it comes to taste. The museum offered the opportunity to make your own chocolate, from roasting the cacao beans to customizing your chocolate bar with nuts. Before we started I thought there was nothing that would make this a bad experience in the slightest. I was very wrong. This disturbing entity came in the form of the chocolate museum guide. I’m going to interrupt my current prose, because I cannot explain the levels of cringe that this man exuded without speaking normally. Most guides have to be overly friendly. Some might really try to be your friend. But when you have one that is overly friendly, tries to be your friend, and thinks he’s a comedian, then you know it’s going to be a bad time. This was our guide. I had to suffer through over an hour of straight corn. When we were mixing our hot chocolate, he made us all yell “Báte, Báte Chocolate!” like an episode of Dora. Unless you were a suburban white family, who would probably think this made them cultured,  this was a rather torturous experience. This wasn’t even the worst part for me! My memory of this next incident is foggy, most likely due to repression. He or someone else was talking about milk, then out of nowhere he looks at me and says I look like a need to drink more milk! Like I was some sort of malnourished child! I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to insult me to that degree! This corny man had thoroughly humiliated me! And the chocolate was kind of nasty too…

After writing this I realized that this was in Nicaragua, not Costa Rica.

The moral of the story is don’t go to Nicaragua if you don’t like corny chocolate museum guides.