Montezuma, Costa Rica is small funky end of the road kind of place full of Americans, Europeans and plenty of hippies. Backpackers can settle into a very basic seaside accommodation for $10 a night and spend their days in a daze along some gorgeous shoreline.
From Samara it’s a 4 or 5 hour trip by car or gringo tourist bus. Local buses would probably take all day. Lucky for me I was again able to hitch ride with the French family as we seem to be on the same program and were staying at the same place in Samara.
Upon arrival, aside of the shoreline, I wasn’t initially all that taken by Montezuma. The small village town felt busy, cramped, and hot. I sensed something sketchy about the community and didn’t like leaving our packs in the trunk of the car while we looked for a place to stay. Agate and I looked for cheap accommodations and the prices varied. I wasn’t too impressed by the cheapest options and nothing looked too appealing without spending a lot of money. Hot and tired we took a break for food and drink. Afterwards we looked some more.
There was one place on the beach that looked pretty good for $20 a night but I was turned off by a strong odor of what smelled like insecticide. Another $20 option was dark and insecure. A $10 place looked nice and quiet but I didn’t have a good feeling about it. After awhile I settled for a peculiar $32 hotel room with a roaring air conditioner but it’s clean, secure, and run by a friendly eccentric character named Carlos.
Feeling a little wired I headed to the beach for a swim, then a bar. I overheard one guy say, “I’ve been here two weeks and I’m just starting to feel like I don’t have to be doing something all the time”. I then struck up a conversation with a friendly young hippie couple from Northern California who live on a farm. I didn't ask them specifically what kind of farm. I told them I felt like there was something a little sketchy about Montezuma. The guy replied that he didn’t think it was sketchy. He thought it was edgy. After a couple of beers I tended to agree. A big friendly American man sat down to the right of me. For some reason my gaydar went off. Something about the guy’s quirky yet friendly demeanor made me a little uncomfortable. He works for an airline. I didn’t bother to ask him his position. To my left an interesting looking backpacker dude was getting friendly with a chubby tattooed woman. I asked where he was from. He said Whitehorse, Northwest Territories, Canada. Wow! I thought that was pretty cool. I asked him what he did up there and his reply was, "Recycling". I questioned how many people lived in Whitehorse. He replied, "26,000". “How many live in the Northwest Territories”? “36,000”. “Wow! Your keeping the Northwest Territories clean!” He responded with an enthusiastic high five. The Territories cover an area about the size of Texas. Back to my right the friendly guy left and I met a lonely woman from Hungary who was getting intimate with a cigarette and cocktail. We chatted a little but I left her for two slices of pizza that looked like they’d been out for awhile. After that I retreated to my hotel where I fell asleep to the sound of a roaring air conditioner.
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