Costa Rica: Still That Beautiful

After leaving (escaping?) San Juan del Sur, I still had a few days to kill before meeting up with Michal, so I returned to Playa Tamarindo.  I spent five weeks in Playa Tamarindo between my junior and senior years in college: surfing, studying Spanish and partying (in approximately that order).  It was then that the seeds for this trip were planted.  I was curious to see what had become of the place in the intervening years.

Short answer: more of the same.

Sure, there is a big tall (empty) building that wasn't there before, and a couple of gated communities I don't remember from before, but the soul of the place remains the same.  It's all about surfing, partying and property development.  They call it Tama-gringo for a reason.  I checked into a relatively fancy hostel (A/C! a pool!) and spent the next two days drinking and lounging in the pool.  I didn't even make it to the beach.  And the second day was completely an accident: I was hungover from karaoke the night before (don't ask.  For the love of God, don't ask) and only meant to spend an hour or two in the pool recovering.  Yeah, right.

I eventually made it out, though, and met up with Michal.  We headed for Montezuma, a place I'd visited on my previous trip to Costa Rica and liked well enough to return.  There is a particular waterfall..

Oh, fuuuu..

Waahoooooooo!!!

I'd done the same 5 years ago, but as they say on the interwebz: "pix or it didn't happen."  Well here ya go, folks.  Using the first shot, where I'm standing above the falls, I estimate it to be about 8 times my height, or 40-45 feet.  Even having done it before and knowing it to be (relatively) safe, the first jump was pretty damn exciting.

 And that's not all: you have to climb back up afterwards.

It's hardly vertical, but it is pretty wet.  And towards the top you're a good 30+ feet above the rocks below.  Not a good place to slip.

So manly!

Christ, I was tan.

The view from the jump off point.  Note that there is another waterfall right there, but not one you want to jump off.  Oh, no. No.  It is imperative that you surface and swim to the left right away.

Wait, so masterful motor scooter handling is impressive but not jumping off tall waterfalls?  I don't get it.

The pool and smaller waterfalls above the big one.  Preeetty nice.

Montezuma's also got a pretty nice beach, but those are practically a dime-a-dozen in that part of the world.  And let's be honest: the waterfall was all I cared about.

From Montezuma a day's travel took us the length and breadth of the country to Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, another place I'd visited before and desired to see again.  Puerto Viejo is on the Caribbean coast and has a completely different vibe from the rest of Costa Rica.  It's practically Rastafarian.  All I cared about, though, was seeing if my little mark remained.

It did!

When I was first in Puerto Viejo I stayed at a place called Rockin' J's Hostel.  The entire place is decorated: mosaics, murals, sculptures, you name it, and all by guests.  They have art supplies on hand for anyone that cares to add to the (already extensive) decorations.  When I was there in 2005 I spent two days decorating the locker I was using to store my backpack (I was renting a tent for something like $4/day; it's tough to lock a tent).

So cool.

 Also in Puerto Viejo: very nice beaches (yawn)..

..with some surprisingly good surf.

 And a sloth?!  Yes, indeed, a sloth.  Just chillin', ya know, changing trees, mon.  No worries, here.  None a'tall.

Seriously, though, how stoned does it look, with that dopey smile?  And it was completely unfazed by us taking pictures from only a couple feet away.  It just went about its business, spending a good 5 minutes getting from ground level to 6 feet up the trunk.  No need ta hurry, mon, ya know?

So that's it?  Only three stops in Costa Rica?  Isn't it supposed to be, like, paradise?  Yes, well, the thing is: paradise is wonderful right up until the property developers arrive.  Then it's locked behind tall walls and costs an arm and a leg to get into.  Don't get me wrong: Costa Rica is that great.  Go.  Right now.  You'll have an incredible time, I guarantee.

The main problem, from a backpacker perspective, is the cost.  In Nicaragua a bed in a dormitory cost $5-7.  In Costa Rica it's at least double that.  So too for food, booze and tours.  On a budget that is supposed to last for 3 or 6 or 12 months you simply can't afford to spend much time in Costa Rica.  Also, it just feels different.  I remember walking around Playa Tamarindo seeing American families, Mom, Dad, 2.2 kids and the dog, driving by in rented SUVs.  On the ferry to Montezuma, there were numerous life preservers, life rafts and a safety announcement.  That was repeated in English.  What country am I in again?

But seriously, don't listen to the jaded backpacker.  Go to Costa Rica.  You'll love it.

San Juan del Sur: Surfing Finally!

Michal needed to get to Costa Rica (more on that in a bit), so from the Corn Islands we went to San Juan del Sur, a surf town on the Pacific coast just this side of the border.  In all honesty, San Juan del Sur is pretty gringo-fied.  It's the development pressure growing up the coast from Costa Rica.  There's sand, sun and beautiful waves and you can't throw a hat without hitting a gated community.  What's not to love?

Well..

This is hardly the forum to tackle such a complicated set of issues, but this piece does a pretty good job of capturing the inevitable conflict that arises amid such breakneck development.  It's long, but I highly recommend it.

Anyway.  If you can manage to wake up in San Juan del Sur without a hangover (harder than it sounds, trust me), a popular day trip is the 45 minute 4x4 ride out to Playa Maderas (the beach in town isn't all that nice).

There's a very nice beach, when the tide is out.  And a lovely little restaurant/board rental.  What more could you ask for? (click to view full sized goodness)

We surfers really are useless.  Stick us in front of an ocean and all we do is stare at it.  Good luck trying to maintain a conversation at that point.  We just go "mhmm, mhmm, mhmm" and you realize we haven't heard a word you've said since the set started.

I borrowed a board from another fellow and had a fun little time.  Nothing incredible, but it was good to be back in the water after so long.  Packing up that afternoon for the ride back into town, though, Michal pointed out something that had completely escaped my notice: "You realize that this isn't just a restaurant, right?  It's a hostel too."

Now this is what I call fortuitous timing, cuz, ya see, I needed something to do for about a week.  Michal was going to be meeting her parents in Costa Rica (by prior arrangement).  We both thought it much simpler for me to make myself scarce while they were doing their own thing.  What better way to spend that time than living right on the beach and surfing my brains out?   

I don't know.

 So that's pretty much it.

For the next five or six days I went surfing two or three times per day.  The rest of the time I pretty much just sat on the balcony staring at the ocean.

It was really right there.  The waves would come all the way up to the terrace at high tide.  That's my hammock on the second floor, there, right in front of my window, alongside my balcony.

One of my more artistic brethren had decorated the interior of my room.

Every now and again I'd get ambitious and take some photos.  I don't remember what I was going for here, but I like how it turned out.

But mostly it was just surfing and watching other people surf.  We really are a useless lot, we surfers.

No kidding: I prefer the ocean to television.

The waves weren't incredible, but they were pretty consistent.  Even good, at times.

There wasn't a whole lot to do after dark as I was usually the only guest and the restaurant staff cleared out around 5pm, so I got to waking up at dawn.  It was usually the sound of the waves that woke me up:

"Hmm, those sound like good waves."
*walks to window, surveys ocean*
"Those are good waves."
*goes surfing*

Outrageous.

The sunsets weren't half bad either.

So why aren't I still there?  Well, first of all, I needed to meet Michal again in Costa Rica once her parents had left.  But more to the point, I kinda broke the surfboard I'd rented.  In my defense...

In my defense, I say, the board had already been repaired once: there were cracks on both rails.  Furthermore, it being an epoxy board, it should have been stronger than normal boards.  If the surf wasn't big enough to be breaking normal boards (it wasn't), there is no way in hell an epoxy board should break.  Unless, of course, it was already weakened from prior trauma.  Finally, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I draw your attention to the fact that the board broke precisely between the points on the rails that had been previously repaired!

Ah ha!

Strangely, the proprietor didn't see things my way.  This lead to an interesting negotiation, of sorts:

Him: "Rompiste la tabla.  Me debes $350."
Me: "Ya fue roto.  No voy a pagarte nada."
Him: "Bueno, bueno.  Dame $200."
Me: "Creo que no me entiendes: la tabla fue débil porque ya fue roto y no voy a pagarte nada."
Him: "Entonces, aceptaré $100."
Me: "Me voy."

And so I got the hell outta Nicaragua.

Corn Islands: Caribbean Perfection

We'd heard the Corn Islands were nice, so we went.

It's possible to get there by bus/river boat/ferry, but that would have taken a couple of days each way.  So we flew.

I really can't recommend the Corn Islands highly enough.  From the States it's an easy flight to Managua and you don't even have to leave the airport: just get right on the puddle jumper.  They're what the rest of the Caribbean must have been like 30 or 50 years ago.

Big Corn is actually much less touristy than Little Corn, which is just about completely covered in bars, restaurants, hostels and dive shops.  This place cost $15/night, I think.

Not the most stunning of sunsets, I suppose, but all the nicer when viewed from your balcony.

It rarely broke out into full on sunlight, but we went to the beach nonetheless.

On Little Corn there were more tourists (backpackers, mostly) and some lovely stretches of beach.  And you can stay right there.  This picture was taken from within the hostel.

When the sun did make its brief appearances, it was all just about perfect.

This pose was Michal's idea, I swear.  There just happened to be a bottle of rum lying nearby.  Pure coincidence, I tells ya.

It's funny, really.  We were on the Corn Islands for 5 or 6 days, but I hardly remember doing anything.  We went SCUBA diving one day (it was good, but we didn't see the best sites.  I need to go back).  We went to the beach a couple of times, but never for all that long.  It kept clouding over.  We tried to watch the World Cup final, but the power went out.  But it was still one of the best places I've been.

Must have been the company.

Isla Ometepe: Volcanoes!

But not volcanoes that I climbed.

The view from the ferry.  The two volcanoes grew up through Lago Nicaragua and met in the middle, forming a single island.

Seriously, though: you have two options.  The taller of the two is supposed to be an easier climb, but it's kind of, well, active.  So you can't go all the way to the top.  The shorter volcano is, for whatever reason, much wetter, so it's a 6-8 hour muddy slog through the jungle.  Sure, there's a very pretty lake at the top.. good for swimming and all that.  But guess what you have to do after you go swimming?  Riiiiight.  The climb was described to me as "something I would not wish upon my worst enemy."  So what else is there to do on this island?

If the lady wants to go horseback riding then we want to go horseback riding.  They weren't the most active of creatures, but they seemed to know the way and were content to saunter along at their own pace.  Not your pace, bud, nosiree.  Their pace.

How did she get the camera?  Sneaky little...

Our destination: a little spit of sand affording lovely views of the volcanoes.  Naturally, this sort of "land's end" inspires all manner of photography..

..some rather silly..

..some more somber.

More silly than somber, though, on the whole.

It's a girl on a horse on a beach on an island.

In case of volcanic eruption.. you're pretty much fucked.  But to take your mind off your imminent doom, try fleeing this way.

It would have been nice to stay out at the beach for the sunset, but we didn't fancy riding the horses at night along the road.  The vantage from town wasn't too bad though.

If you don't like climbing volcanoes and you've already gone horseback riding, the only other thing going is "Ojo de Agua" (Eye of Water), a natural spring.  I was picturing something more rustic and natural.

But it was more like kitschy touristy.

A pleasant enough way to spend an afternoon, nonetheless.

Far more fun than the Ojo de Agua was our mode of transportation that day.  Only $20 and this bad boy was all ours, all day.

After hanging out at the springs for a few hours we decided to continue around the island to check out a place we were thinking about staying.  The further we went the worse the road got, until it took all my attention just to keep the scooter upright.  At one point, we turned off the main road and up a steep hill.  Displaying a remarkable level of control (if I do say so myself), I guided the scooter up one of the 18" wide ribbons of concrete laid in the dirt road to allow cars to ascend the slope.

Hmm.. that's not the best of descriptions.  And I can't find an illustrative picture on the interwebz.  Suffice it to say that there was very little room for error and Michal was quite impressed.  And isn't that all that matters?

Unfortunately, I seem to be better at driving than teaching driving.  I failed to explain to Michal that on banked turns there is a minimum speed that must be maintained, otherwise you drift into the turn.  Later that day while Michal was driving us back and we started drifting, she did the natural thing: slow down.  This only caused us to drift even more.  Thankfully, by the time we drifted off the road and into the weeds we were only doing about 10 mph.  Still, I managed to lose a chunk of flesh the size of my thumbnail out of the heel of my palm and picked up a nice patch of road rash on my forearm.  Michal actually came out of it better than I, with only assorted scrapes and bruises.

It doesn't look like much now, but trust me: it was deep.

Pretty funny, though, in retrospect: me, an enlightened 21st century male teaching Michal, an empowered 21st century woman how to ride a scooter and what does she do?  She lives up to the oldest of sexist stereotypes.  Sigh.

Women.