Costa Rica 4: The Mountains, Nicoya, and Coming Home

7-31-2008

Hotel Bula Bula, Playa Grande, Costa Rica

After we grabbed my parents at the airport in San Jose, we headed up into the cloud forests. This part of Costa Rica was entirely new to me, despite my two previous trips. It's a peaceful area of cattle farms amid steep green mountains cut by deep river valleys. Fog, rain, and cool winds dominate.

Poas Volcano Lodge is a truly unique hotel. This custom stone home is set high on the side of the volcano and surrounded by European dairy cows. The temperature hovered in the low 60s and fog or rain partially obscured views of the valleys below and distant mountains. Two massive stone fireplaces burned in the evening and a tasty home-cooked dinner was provided by the staff.

After Poas we drove to Villablanca Cloud Forest Lodge. This wonderful little hotel is miles out in the idyllic farm country to the northwest of San Jose. It consists of small, very classy cabins, each with its own small fireplace and a view of the cloud forest. There's a nice restaurant and bar that supposedly has a nice view of Arenal, though it was far too foggy to see anything but wind blown fog all around the restaurant. We saw an agouti, which looks like a giant rat, on the trails and a coati (coatimundi?) foraging on the grass outside the cabins. The coati is odd creature that wears the mask of a raccoon, has a long sneaky snout, and the long dark tail of a monkey.

It was too cloudy to see the main crater at Poas, but the clouds parted, as if by magic, when we arrived, after a long hike, at the viewpoint over a small lake in a side crater.

In Monteverde, our coffee tour was the highlight of that region. Juan Leton and his daughter Joyce showed us his three hectares of land. Of this small plot, two thirds is held in conservation and the remaining hectare is planted in shade grown organic coffee and mixed salad crops. Bananas are used as the shade crop. He hand picks much of the crop himself. He gets $5-$7 for each 1' x 1' x 1' box of red berries. It takes about an hour to pick this amount. When he hires workers, he pays them $2 per box. During the harvest season, he picks from 6 AM until 4 PM when he takes the coffee down the San Luis Valley to the cooperative processing plant. This area is sunnier and drier. Each coffee plant takes about three years to come to maturity. Two types of fungus are his primary enemies. One results from too much rain during the rainy season. Ironically, the other is caused by an excess of intense sunshine or dramatic temperature changes during the dry season. Since he is a Fair Trade producer and is strictly organic, his only solution is to chop infected plants down. Then they re-sprout healthy from the base, though it will take two years until the produce again. Most of his fertilizer is provided by the various salad crops and fruit trees he scatters throughout the coffee plants. The cooperative will process the coffee for him and roast it, but he leaves the red berries to sun dry for his personal supply. I bought a pound of this for Matt and Kristin.

The whole area is covered with thick cloud forest and very steep mountains cut by multiple streams and rivers. The roads in and out of the area are unbelievable. It's hard to imagine the original Quaker settlers cutting their way into the area. Even now, most of the land is left in forest and cows graze in small patches up and down nearly vertical green slopes.

8-2-2008
Hotel Bula Bula, Playa Grande, Costa Rica

Tamarindo is not the same sleepy beach town I remember from 1995. Large hotels, Century 21 sales offices, sizable gringo homes, TCBY Yogurt shops, and impressive surf shops are scattered along the beachfront and in various neighborhoods surrounding Tamarindo and Playa Grande. The beach in Tamarindo itself is completely blocked from inland views by a wall of tourist development. This despite the fact that the paved road does not extend into the townhouse developments and swamp just behind town.

Playa Grande, about 6 km north of town via the beach and 8 km via the road, boasts about twenty large homes today but a Century 21 map and loads of "Sold" signs on small lots suggests that it has been parceled up into about two hundred home sites. At least that aren't destroying the beachfront forest because the beach is technically a national park (Parque de Las Baulas, the leatherback turtle). Still, the houses are built right up to the beachfront behind a small wall of trees. There are so many homes coming that pollution is almost certain.

The surf break itself is the most sensitive to tide I've seen. It is worthless for surfing except for an hour or two on either side of high tide. As a result, unless high tide falls around sunrise, you're hard pressed to surf much. Moreover, the surfing crowd converges on the small area with the best surf at just the right time. It was like surfing Trestles at home, except the wave wasn't as good. I'll stick to Playa Hermosa next time.

I had a typical gringo tourism adventure yesterday. I unloaded the surfboard and stowed the ignition key of my rental SUV in my surf trunks. The car doors automatically locked after I closed them. Only then did I notice that the door locks in my rental SUV were home door locks, not auto locks. No one at Tricolor Car Rental warned me about this and since I was using a remote control up to that point to enter and I exit the car I hadn't noticed either. Anyway, after hitching a ride back to the hotel I called the rental company. Their response: "I don't know that area well, you'll need to find someone who makes keys." With the help of my hotel, I called a local locksmith, Miquel. He arrived on a brand new 125 cc motorcycle, of which he was clearly very proud. As he tentatively ferried me back to my car on the little bike, I asked him how long he'd been driving a motorcycle. I wasn't at all surprised when he said "Dos Dias." Ten minutes, one long spool of carefully bent wire, and $50 later and I was on my way again.

Our greatest adventure came about on the last day of driving when, thanks to my ability to speak at least a little Spanish, we became aware that the Interamerican Highway was blocked because of what we thought were landslides (in reality, a bridge was out). This forced us to drive up into the mountains, around Lake Arenal and Arenal Volcano, and then back down into Santo Domingo de Heredia to our hotel. While the drive was slow and infuriating at times, we saw incredible scenery that we would have otherwised missed. We were even treated to a clear view of Arenal during one of its gentle eruptions, though we could neither see lava nor hear the explosion. In all it took over nine hours to drive to our hotel and we arrived tired after darkness fell.

8-5-2008
Ft. Lauderdale, Florida International Airport

As a surfing destination, Playa Grande has problems. The surf was too tide-dependent. It breaks only within about 2 hours of the highest tides. The rest of the time its not worth paddling out. The hotels, as a result of stringent environmental regulation, are set too far back from the beach for viewing the ocean. This keeps the beach looking great, but it makes it impossible to check the surf without getting in your rental car or taking a long walk.

Strange how airplanes jet us so quickly from unfamiliar worlds back to U.S. Airport World. Interestingly, I immediately feel relaxed and safe now that I am back in the land of fast food and fast people. Trying to translate Spanish all day is exhausting, especially if you’re not particularly good at it. Still, I’m proud of my continuing improvement. By the middle of the trip I was able to carry on basic conversations with taxi drivers and people we met. I added many words to my vocabulary. It’ll be interesting to see how many stay with me.

Looking over the shots of our trip, I notice that the photographs are infused with vibrant color. Costa Rica is a richly colorful place covered as it is with thick vegetation and blessed by nearly constant rains. The cars, houses, and people too are colorfully adorned. Costa Ricans seem to me to be quiet, almost stolid in character when they interact with you, but they love the group energy of parties, sporting events, holidays, and music. I think the colors of the landscape, their brightly painted little houses for example, must somehow draw from this love of community.

Costa Rica 3: San Jose and Heredia

7-25-2008

Hotel Bouganvillea, Santo Domingo de Heredia, Costa Rica

Spend the night before last in the Hotel America in downtown Heredia. It was a real disappointment and a good example of how guidebooks can lead you astray. It was described as pleasantly furnished. In reality it was a cramped hovel with wiry old mattresses and nearly no space to move around the mattresses.

The national university in Heredia is a bit of a diasappointment. It looks a lot like an urban community college in the States. Moreover, I don’t find any bookstores or, for that matter, anyone reading. This is in line with the stereotypes of Costa Rica's literary life. The country has not produced famous writers like those of Chile or Mexico. On the other hand, it was nice to see so many students in a less developed country. The taverns and pizza shops were full of eager young people engaged in vigorous discussion. Still, I assume there are other campuses. It may be that the elite campus is in another suburb.

The town itself presents a bit of a contradiction. Clearly the residents are prosperous and industrious. Men, women, and children stroll the streets and the central park at all hours of the day and most are well dressed. And yet, there are heavily armed guards and police at nearly every corner. A shotgun-wielding guard at the Mango Surf Shop suggests a real possibility of violent crime. Also, nearly every home and business in the San Jose area is barred and gated and razor wire surrounds the property.

Our hotel was situated in the heart of a typically boisterous Latin American shopping district: small shops selling shoes and clothing, banks, sodas, a crowded central market, and a constant flow of diesel powered buses, cars, and motorbikes. We were only one short block from the crowded central plaza and, in another direction, the courthouse. I asked the hotel receptionist about the guns in the neighborhood and she at first attributed them to the proximity of the police station and courthouse. However, when I noted that I do not recall seeing so many weapons when I visited fifteen years earlier, she agreed that things had changed a great deal in those years.

Catalina, however, got a great haircut in a local hair salon for children. Plagiarized Mickey Mouse logos cover the walls and Mickey is proudly displayed in the front window. The nice woman there spent a half hour on Catalina’s hair, even French braiding a pony tail. The total cost was 1300 colones or about $2.50. Amazing how some things in the country, such as food, are so overpriced and yet labor is clearly undervalued.


We left Hotel America in Heredia and headed for Hotel Bouganvillea in Santo Domingo as soon as I realized it was possible. This hotel set amid suburban San Jose homes, all of which are enclosed in razor wire, has 8 acres of carefully tended gardens and is thoroughly modern and clean. Each room includes a nice porch and it is pleasant enough to just sit and enjoy the view. The variety, colors, and remarkable size of Costa Rican flowers is impressive. This garden alone could entertain a botanist for hours. Hiking in the rainforests is even more impressive.

The next morning we moved to the Hotel Grano de Oro in downtown San Jose. This beautiful new Victorian styled hotel is an oasis of unique charm in a sea of Latin American urban mediocrity. Oddly enough, I think it is the finest hotel I've stayed in anywhere. The restaurant is outstanding. It's fine wood furnishings, beautiful lighting, red carpeting, tasteful artwork, live classical guitar, and attentive waiters all suggest a fine 19th century hotel. We enjoyed a truly excellent bottle of 2006 Marques Casa de Concha Merlot. It's by Concha y Toro and I should look for it at home. The also make a Syrah.

Costa Rica 2: Manuel Antonio and the Beach

7-16-2008
Playa Hermosa, Costa Rica


Playa Hermosa must be one of the most consistent beach breaks in the world. Once again I arrived to find solid overhead, fast-moving waves. Cabinas Las Olas remains a beachfront bargain, with cabins on the beach for about $50 a night. This time, however, with family in tow, I was more aware of the simplicity of the place, not to mention the mosquitoes, moths, roaches, and mice that shared our room. Shannon, in particular, had a hard time there, but we think that was largely because of panic attacks brought on my malaria medication, which she promptly stopped taking. Catalina loved the little pool and I loved the new chef, who churned out great Filet Mignon and sesame encrusted tuna every night for about $10. Still, after five nights it was time to find a nicer place to stay and a safer beach for Catalina so we headed off for Manuel Antonio. I was physically exhausted from surfing twice a day for five days anyway.


7-19-2008

Cafe Milagro, Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica

It seems to rain here more often than I remember from my trips four and fourteen years ago. On this trips I may have been here in June. Those few weeks make a big difference. Despite memories to the contrary, mornings are rarely very sunny. Of course, in the afternoons in rains and often rains hard. Thunder, lightning, and large drops make the streets run with water. It's great fun.

Sadly, tourism and especially package tourism is now rampant in Jaco and Manuel Antonio. In 1994, there was almost no commercial activity down by the beach. Today Manuel Antonio is shockingly swarmed with street vendors, parked rental cars, and guides aggressively selling their services. It's essentially unrecognizable from my first visit. We payed $20 to walk to Playa Manuel Antonio in the national park. The "trail" was crowded with tourists. Still, we did see a few white-faced monkeys. I had the impression they were used to handouts.

The famous beach itself is a veritable zoo of tourists and tico families. Interestingly, not 25 meters across a perfectly formed little tambolo, a sandspit created by an offshore island, there is an equally beautiful, though less popular beach facing town. There were only three people on this beach. The sand slopes steeply to the sea. At one point a small fish leaped out of the shore break. It was being chased by something. Soon, in the very shallow surf just behind this little fish, a large spiked dorsal fin appeared in an chaotic explosion of sea foam. This much larger fish nearly beached itself in its attempt to grab lunch.

Anyway, feeling certain that there is little hope of cleaning up the tourist mess without unlikely government intervention, I went ahead and bought a t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of Costa Rica's national beer, Imperial. Cost me $8.

On a positive note, we found a great little hostel that serves a great casado (typical Costa Rican breakfast of rice and beans, eggs, fruit, and pancakes) for only $3. We went there two days in a row. Catalina is learning how to say milk in Spanish, "Leche!"

Sustainability rhetoric accompanies the majority of Costa Rica tourism and yet clearly the place is being overwhelmed by tourists and the resulting over development that often accompanies rapid hotel and resort development. Trash increasingly lines the beaches at the high tide line, just like it does at home in California. I read in the Tico Times of Tamarindo beaches awash in human fecal bacteria. Manuel Antonio is a tourism disaster. I read other articles that explain that as much as 73% of Costa Rica's population fears the increasingly violent criminal element in the country. The same study said that the majority (53%) of Ticos say they are "likely" to be victims of street crime. Moreover, apparently carjackings are more and more common and are now sometimes violent.

7-19-2008

Hotel Mono Azul, Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica

As I have said many times before, you often get what you pay for in Latin American hotels. People often have the impression that Mexican and Costa Rican hotels are a bargain, but I have found that this is rarely true. Sure there are many bargain-basement options in these places. A hotel room can cost as little as $25 for two people. However, in my experience, such a room is often of such low quality as to not represent a bargain at all. In other words, a hotel room here that costs $25 is actually worth about $20, by U.S. standards. Rooms are leaky and full of mosquitoes or bed bugs (the small scars last for months). There is often no AC or it doesn't function well. Beds can be laughably sub-standard. In Chihuahua, Mexico I once sank so low into a mattress in an $11 hotel room that I could no longer see out of the bed to either side, even after all the feathers and dust fell to the floor. Pillows are often loosely filled with clumps of stuffing or are nearly flat. A hotel room that at first glance appears to be very comfortable, even classy, generally is lacking in numerous small, but important details. Bedside lamps or electrical outlets are oddly placed or are nonexistent. Bathrooms, often lavishly tiled, generally don't provide towel racks or hooks.

On the other hand, expensive hotel rooms here, while still not necessarily up to developed world standards, can offer locations and amenities that only the most exclusive hotels provide at home. Beachfront vistas, mountain-top perches, private hiking trails, infinity pools, and swim up bars are all common above $100 or $150 a night. Moreover, if you spend $150 or more, you will find that your room and hotel compares favorably with rooms costing twice or three times as much in the U.S.

Finally, I can't help but notice that prostitution is legal here. It's most obvious in the beach communities, aside from certain areas of downtown San Jose. Legality makes the trade generally much more subtle than the streetwalkers we see in American cities. Still, there are large numbers of middle-aged American men out to dinner with young Costa Rican women. Studies suggest that despite its legality, fewer than half of Costa Rican prostitutes are registered and that thousands are under age. It's all a bit odd, really. Still, in principal I'm in favor of legalizing victimless crimes. There's little doubt that if it was legal at home these men would not be flying to Costa Rica.

Costa Rica 1: Arrival

7-13-2008 Hotel Millenium II, Alejuela, Costa Rica

The faintly sweet smell of burnt diesel fuel greets all visitors to Latin America. Costa Rica's San Juan Santamaria International Airport is in the central valley. It's surrounded by rolling hills. Coffee covered mountains loom in the near distance. We arrived late at night and the city's sparse lights glowed like fireflies. It’s remarkably cool in the Meseta Central of Costa Rica. Daytime temperatures hover around 70 degrees Farenheit year round with only a small drop during the cloudy months between July and November. Our modest little hotel was very near the airport. It sounded as if a jet might land on us at any time.

Catalina is a great little traveler. She seems to understand that we have to sit patiently for hours in order to take great journeys. As long as her mother or I play with her from time to time, she manages to stay calm and pleasant. I'm touched that she is genuinely excited about her trip to "Coco Rico." We've been taking her on trips since she was only weeks old. I like to think this explains her calm travel demeanor.

As many people are commenting, air travel is not what it used to be. Catalina's cool head is more important these days than ever. Here's my latest example. When I purchased our tickets with Delta I bought a direct flight from JFK to San Jose, Costa Rica leaving at 10:30 AM. Oddly, a month or so after my purchase, Delta simply changed the flight to a layover in Atlanta leaving at 6:30 AM. The whole reason I choose Delta was because it was direct and because the timing was good for traveling with a little girl. To make matters worse, they also arbitrarily increased their surfboard baggage fees from $75 to $150 per leg of the flight. When I called them to protest and reschedule the only thing they offered was another layover flight during the afternoon. More to the point, they lied to me. They assured me that they "no longer fly direct to Costa Rica from JFK." However, two weeks later my parents flew direct to Costa Rica on Delta. Suffice it to say I'll be avoiding Delta.