Today the folks started their journey home, and once again I return to my blog to keep me company. It is always difficult, if not rude, to post while I have visitors here in Costa Rica. The time necessary to post is better spent with family and friends while I have the opportunity, and so the adventures continue with little proof other than our photos and memories.

The detailed memories of the Panama Canal, rain forests, Arenal volcano, getting lost in rental cars, and coming home to Coco with my parents will likely fade, but the photos and attached feelings will never leave me. For a person who has traveled a great deal of the world, the past two weeks was an experience that will not soon, if ever, find its equal.

Over the next few weeks, I hope that I can relay the stories, adventures, grand mishaps and perfect moments in a manner that rivals life itself. However much I would like to record our time together with immaculate precision, I must console myself with an idea I have had for sometime now, "does not translate."

This simply means that no amount of pictures or words can articulate the growth, bonding, and overall spice of life that is gained by actual travel among foreign lands & cultures.

However, I can promise to relieve our cameras of their most amazing photos, and to let them speak for themselves. If a photo is worth a thousand words, and given our plethora of pictures & videos, then I must take a humbled backseat, or at the very least, a backseat driver position.

The pictures will soon follow, but this is a rare post. No pictures. No videos. Simply my words to convey my thoughts. When I met my parents in the Panama airport, it was as if time had not passed. I imagined that I was seeing them shortly after my bon voyage trip up the escalator in Los Angeles.

This time however, we all carried luggage, and we managed to grace our faces with smiles. It was a hello rather than a good-bye, and a much needed hello on my part. I knew when I left California that it would be difficult to leave everything behind, but family is family, and it nearly brought me to tears when we hugged.

My Mom does not like to fly, to put it mildly. My mother had forced herself to board the plane, and this wouldn't be the last time during our trip she showed her commitment. Six flights for her & Dad in total, and I commend her for every ounce of panic she muffled.

Our car rental took much longer than we all expected, but t'is the Central American life style. The GPS my father had bought gave decent directions (aka, a compass and heading), had we actually used it directly from the airport. We ended up on some very shady back roads, where Americans are not always welcomed. Our safe passage was only granted because my Dad kept giving the car gas when we found ourselves in what should have been "territorio americano mala"....

After a lot of misdirection and a few wrong turns on our part, we found the Country Inn, who's motto is "I Love This Country".... Over the next few days, we learned that it was purely a marketing slogan, and that nobody actually loves Panama.