Puntarenas, Costa Rica

¨Rich Coast¨ was not done swallowing our money. The next morning we awaked at 7am to catch an early bus out of Montezuma. To get out we had to backtrack across the ferry in order to find a bus that could take us to the Nicaraguan coast. We wanted out of the country - but it was not to be. A bus ride and a 3 hour delay to board the ferry prevented us from grabbing the last bus out of Puntarenas. We found this out after having walked the 3Km beach sidewalk for the 2nd time in three days. Hungry, exhausted, and out of options we decided to stay in Puntarenas for the night before heading to Nicaragua.

We spent a fortune on a beach front hotel to compensate for the mistfortune in transportation. Warm water and Cable tv helped us feel like kings again. Pride was back after feeling like were ¨other¨ travellers. Dinner consisted of roasted chicken from the stand in front of our hotel. We walked the night away on the sidewalk, yet this time without our baggage. A huge festival was ensuing and local tourists were out full force. We decided to skip what had the potential to be the best night out for partying of the entire trip in exchange for a safe, clean, and early sleep.

Fireworks from the festivall filled the air in true American fashion as we spent our last night in Costa Rica.

Montezuma, Costa Rica

Our last stop in Costa Rica appropriately involved two pacific coast beaches. We said goodbye to San Jose and headed west to what was rumored to be a fine example of all that is great about Costa Rica. Montezuma certainly turned out to be representative but not a change for the better.


I need to preface this entry by stating that being critical of ones experiences is a critical exercise in developing an understanding of the world. Likewise, recognizing what one dislikes can be as informative as recognizing preferences. Costa Rica in all of its beauty and reputation has not left an overwhelmingly positive impression. The country seems a bit lacking in identity. Maybe its because the country was granted independence by mail request rather than revolution, or then again maybe its the tourists. Visiting Costa Rica does not mean that one was exposed to Latin America or that one has ¨roughed¨ it. English is widely spoken, prices are comparable to America, and I never got sick on the food. In fact, the conversations I had with local costarricenes on the ferry were my favorite part of this segment of the trip; the new friends and waterfall were a close second.

Anyway, in getting to know Costa Rica, the travel between destinations is especially valuable. On our way to Montezuma Max and I trekked 3 Kms across the sidewalked beach of Puntarenas to the ferry. Through the midday sun, we arrived soaked from sweat and crossed to Paquera. (unbeknowst to us at the time, it would not be our last encounter with the ferry). Once across the expanse, we joined an Israeli couple on safari jeep trip to our shared destination. Evading tire-sized potholes while blasting Mexican norteño music, our driver drove us to the hostel like he was on the checkered lap of the Daytona 500.

Safe and off the rollercoaster ride, we had just arrived when Max and I realized we didnt have sufficient money for the stay. No ATM was to be found in the area of the town. We were informed we had to backtrack to Cobano, a town we passed. We viewed this as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone - workout and withdrawl money. Although it was a beautiful run through rolling hills and jungle, we decided it was best for hydration sake to cab it back to Montezuma.

We ended the night drinking the local Imperial and Bavaria beer at the local club. Club-going folk are universal. Whether in New York City or Montezuma, CR girls believe they are movie stars and guys hover around them like vultures.

The second day was productive. In the late morning we hiked along a steep river bank toward the Montezuma waterfalls. Hopping on stones and through mud we eventually found the natural beast. I can recognize beauty in nature, but it must be an amazing sight in order to leave me in awe. The power of the falls did exactly that. I swam in the pool below while Max scaled the wet and slippery side othe mountain under the falls. He caught the attention of everyone in attendance and in mid-sentence of a discussion I had to kindly advise him to ¨get the hell down¨ without jumping. He jumped. He did so however from a lower ledge. I really could have passed the day away sitting in that hidden cove.

The day was completed by sitting on the sands of the rock beach and talking. A torrential downpour forced the hostel occupants into huddling under the canopied patio. We played cardgames and watched a DVD of some Bob Marley tribute.

Thats how we ended what we thought was our last night in Costa Rica.

San Jose, Costa Rica

At this point in the trip time has faded from bold to blurry. Day is no longer viewed as an antagonist to night, but rather as an alter ego to a split personality. Basically, the timex on my wrist is the only connection I have to time in the form of a date or an hour. Although Max and I are on schedule with our predetermined route we are only so through conscious recognition of a far-off deadline.

We arrived in San Jose following a 4 hour bus ride through the dense jungles of Costa Rica. Even if the dinosaurs that escaped Jurrasic Park were roaming around we wouldn´t be able to see them. Mountain after mountain is covered in deep green tropical jungle. Winding around the cliffs in a mini-bus, with the windows down, wind blowing, is a freeing experience. Max and I keep ourselves from getting claustrophobic, to the dismay of a few passengers, by play fighting, impersonating family in our best mexican accents, and debating important and pertinent issues (materialism, education, women, etc..).

A long day of travel combined with late evening showers influenced us to remain indoors at the hostel for the night. The hostel was a 5 star hotel to the experienced backpacker, providing amenities that are sought after but rarely found - that is, hot water and free internet. Showered and relaxed about 15 of us guests gathered around the flat screen TV to watch a classic piece of American cinema - Mean Girls. It is so very reassuring to know that Lindsay Lohan and company are ambassadors for our great nation. (Seriously though, the movie is well done, but the small UN gathering we had really held it in high esteem).

The only full day in San Jose was spent wandering around the city and taking in all that the capital has to offer - which is limited. Max and I met another English friend and toured the city with her - that is until Max and I got into a scuffle (translation = stupid argument over nothing). Separated, we each did what would help us cool down. I had a coffee. He went shopping.
During that time Max made another new friend - a local taxi driver. Later in the night he called up the cabbie and we had our own personal guide to the mall. On the way Max sat up front freestyling with the driver and talking about hip hop. The entire conversation was a spectacle. Once at the mall we soon learned that although it is three stories, it is simply three stories of bad shopping. With full pockets, we headed for the exit and toward the San Pedro end of town.

We started the night off with a bucket of Imperial beer and a few laughs. Terra U was a college bar playing the newest records as loud as possible. The DJ felt compelled to speak into the mic after every few seconds so the atmosphere was noisy if not annoying. A few drinks later we found ourselves at an inviting Jazz club. The atmosphere was candlelit and certainly more calm. A much needed change of pace. Girls swooned over the band. Max and I poked fun at the band. All the while we drank some more and downed papas fritas. With no whataburger around, the great night ended with some late night facebooking back at the hostel.

It was an overall great evening with new and old company.

Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, Cahuita - Costa Rica

Having departed the water taxi and piled into the back of a jeep we arrived at the border crossing, The cross from Panama to Costa Rica was relatively easy. With keen awareness for the man-sized cracks in the engineering masterpiece, we walked across the bridge into our second country. The only slight inconvenience was the deliberate inefficiency of the obviously frustrated-moody-power wielding woman in charge of the most important object to a traveller - the border stamp. after max's scowls and my insincere "gracias" we again caught the jeep into Puerto Viejo de Talamanca.

Our hostel Rocking J's was a work of art - literally. Nearly every surface of the property is ornamented by a broken-tile mosaic. It is both visually colorful and filled with colorful people. Given the option of a tent or a hammock we all went with the latter. Writing only for my own perspective, the hammocks were welcome, peaceful, and comfortable.

The move to the beach upon arrival was nearly immediate. We waded in the clear blue water under the hottest sun we have encountered on our trip. Walking a little further down the cove we proceeded to find a beautiful black sand beach. From afar the beach seemed dirty and unnatractive. yet, upclose the sand exhibits a sparkle and purity that is really unexpected. Food and a cold shower brought the day to a close.

On the second day, having fallen asleep early after a long day of travel, Max and I awakened early to be productive. A quick bite gave us the energy and inspiration for a quick workout. We ran the length of the still desolate beach. A few miles and a few push ups in the organic gym was refreshing. Following the run we made reservations for some more snorkeling in Cahuita. We caught the dollar bus and met our guide. The local costarriequense took us out to explore some amazing coral reefs. Fish, large and small, colorful and achromatic, congregated near the extensive coral. In one spot in particular the undercurrents of the ocean were more powerful and quick maneuvering prevented us from getting scraped up by the coral. The smaller fish, brown with luminescent blue spots, were my favorites.

Imperial beer, billiards, and reggae filled our night. The light local beer seems to lack flavor and potency. Although I am reluctant to admit, it seems I forget to pack my pool skills for this trip. My record is somewhere around 0 - 3. I have excuses but will only expound upon request. The reggae club lacked the energy for which I had hoped. The music was solid but the club always remained only on the verge of becoming rowdy. Regardless, I danced by mimicking, improvising, and blending styles. In other words, I tried to look like I knew what I was doing.

An account of our experiences in Puerto Viejo would not be complete without mentioning the the two new friends we made in the town. Our common interests for education, travel, witty-conversation, and the pursuit of a good time led us to meet and be together for three days. I have met few people with the disarming acumen that they possess. One of the most influential aspects of travelling is still, by far, coming in contact with passionate and experienced individuals - just like our friends from England. Genuinely caring, they are a reminder of what is beautiful.

This afternoon we arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica. The day was essentially spent travelling and reenergizing for the next few days ahead. Daily updates will proceed as I am back among the straight edges of the city life.