A Different Trip - Looking For More Funny

In a couple of days I’ll fly back to Houston and am looking forward to doing so. My time in Costa Rica has been really good but its also been a different kind of trip. I’ve traveled shorter distances and I’ve stayed longer than I normally would in places I’d usually be more inclined to pass through. I thought this would have been one of those adventures where I’d get warmed up and crave a little challenge and adventure. I could have very likely trotted over the Nicaraguan border and looped through San Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala. That would have been an adventure but it wasn’t feeling like the thing to do. I felt more inclined to run in the morning, hang by a beach, and swim in the ocean after a short ride on a local bus.

In the past four years, almost exactly, starting before this blog and in Chile, I began a series of travels. Looking back, I’ve done a lot more than I think I realized and have covered a vast amount of territory. Costa Rica has been all about short travel days, no stress, limited goals, pineapple, papaya, and cerveza. I've also taken a lot fewer photos. In a sense I feel like I just sat down after a four year whirlwind experience of long walks, world travels, and busy unpredictable work.

Life is good and at the end of the day I feel like I’ve been doing a pretty good job of taking advantage of the good.

I’m back in Dominical for a 3rd time. In some ways I don’t really know why I like this place but I do. I’m not a surfer, hippie, or someone running away from something but Dominical has a certain appeal for the moment. It’s a nice little place to drop out for awhile. It’s fun to drop out for a short period of time but but I've about had my fill of maximum chill.

The surf has calmed quite a bit since the first time I passed through. It now looks like a good day in Galveston, Texas. The water is even the same color. Well, maybe a Very good day in Galveston.

The owner of the hotel I’ve been staying at is actually Dutch. I thought he was Italian because the Lost Planet Guide said he was. When I asked him about it he said, “Oh, I had an Italian Chef that acted like he owned the place. He doesn’t work here anymore”. I’m now on a first name basis at the hotel. In other words I’ve been around enough where I’m remembering names and people are remembering mine.

In two days I need to be in Liberia which is kind of far to travel via local bus. I asked the Dutch owner what he thought I should do. He turned it over to the German woman working the front desk. A viable solution was found rather quickly. Tomorrow it’s an easy bus ride to Quepos for an overnight then an early tourist bus, at a very reasonable price, to Liberia. Pura vida attitude mixed with Dutch hospitality and German organization. No problema. Very Easy.

As with all my trips they usually end with some kind of epiphany and an intention of making forward thinking changes upon my return home. Often times it’s the thought of making a move, changing up my work, or pursuing some repressed creative interest. However, what usually happens is that I step off the plane and the very next day dive right back into what I was doing when I left. I’m usually very motivated and fresh so it’s easy to pick up where I left off. In no time I mindlessly surrender to the ease of old patterns. In actuality, it’s really not a bad thing. I’ve got quite the angle on it all and am very grateful for it.

In no time the bank account starts a steady upward trend and without any hesitation I begin to think of a new excursion. However, whatever epiphany or intention I had usually gets put off or forgotten as I get caught up in the distraction of busyness. The Achilles heel is that even though I know I’ve got it pretty darned good I know I could do much better and am not using other gifts and talents I know I possess.

Travel is adventure but adventure doesn’t always have to be trekking all over the world. Perhaps I’ll return home with this thought, put some new strings on my Collings OMH Guitar, and strum a new tune. Maybe the persona needs a new suit as I might want to consider a different stage.

Often times when I meet foreigners who don’t speak English very well they will say something is more funny when they mean something is more fun. For example, “We go this place. It’s more funny”. I’m having my share of fun but I think I’d like to spend more time where it’s more funny. I'm kind of thinking along those lines.

A Nice Slice Of The Country - Bahia Bellena

Just because you live in a small remote bay village that’s most easily accessed by boat doesn’t mean you don’t like to party. I noticed a cool open air bar built on a hillside on the other side of the bay from where I was staying. I walked the 20+ minutes to get there along the beach and climbed steep steps to a cold beer and grand view. While there, I noticed a stack of large speakers and amp.

Wednesday and Thursday nights were nice and serene. A gentle breeze blew through my screened walls and crashing waves below made for good sleeping. Friday was a different story. I noticed what sounded like a sound check in the afternoon. It was loud but not too loud. Around 8pm that all changed. The mellow daytime bar by day turned into a booming bass heavy night club at night. The bass roared across the bay with an unrelenting pound, pound, pound.

For one, I was wondering where the heck the customers were coming from. I entertained the thought of checking it out but gave up on that idea about as soon as it crossed my mind. I think the last thing any tourist going through the trouble to get to Bahia Drake would want is a Night Club but the place was obviously hopin for someone. Pound, Pound, Pound until 2:30 am.

I figured Saturday night would be worse so I decided to leave Drake Bay behind. It’s a wonderful little place but three nights was about perfect for me. There’s not too much to do there but go for walks and a swim unless you want to fork out a considerable amounts of money for tours and such.

I took a 7 am boat back to Sierpe with an Israeli couple and their 4 year old who had also stayed at the Mirador. They had a car and offered me a ride to Uvita. The town of Uvita is nothing special but I had been recommended a jungle lodge.

I started walking up a dirt road to the lodge and a Costa Rican couple picked me up and gave me a ride. The lodge was kind of cool and reminded me of something you would see in S.E. Asia. However, the interior is dark which was unappealing to me. The manager is from Spain and his thick Castilian accent was difficult to understand. There is an amazing deck with a splendid jungle view but I just wasn’t feeling it.

I walked back down from the lodge and started hoofing it along a dusty road. A friendly local stopped and offered me a ride. I told him I had visited the lodge. He kind of smiled, shook his head and laughed. I knew there was a nearby National Park on a beach so I told him I preferred a national park by the beach. He just happened to be headed to Parque Nacional Bahia Bellena and gave me a lift right to it.

The Lost Planet Guide didn’t mention any accommodations near the Park but there are several geared towards Costa Ricans. Not tourists. I checked into a funky, yet homey, hotel room complete with air conditioning, refrigerator, and bathroom for a price of $15. In Costa Rica there’s Gringo Price and there’s local price. Wherever there’s tourism expect a totally different price scale in comparison to the locations where there are no foreign tourists. Throw the guidebook away and go to places that cater to Costa Ricans and everything is cheaper. Some things are a lot less expensive. It only makes sense in a Country where $600 month is a good wage.

To enter Parque Nacional Bahia Bellena there’s a fee. Some locals pay nothing. Others pay around forty cents. Gringos like myself pay $6. The couple who gave me a ride to the Jungle lodge had told me of a strip of land with waves on both sides.
During High Tide you can’t see the Whales tail but it’s made by a spit of land that extends out into the ocean to a wide area of rocks and reef. During low tide the water parts on both sides of the spit. Imagine walking straight out into the ocean towards a rocky mass with waves to your left and right. It’s a really cool phenomenon and something I don’t think I’ve ever seen. At one stage, as the tide was retreating, waves would crash, jump over one another, and continue on.

It’s called the Whales tail because when the tide is down and everything is exposed the land mass looks kind of like a whales tail. Also, there are lots of whales and dolphins in the area. The adjoining beach with all of its palm trees and mountain backdrop is some of the best I’ve seen in Costa Rica. I saw a few Gringo day trippers out on their own but the crowd was mostly all local and Costa Rican. Also, swimming out off the Whales tail was some of the best I’ve experienced in the country. Clean cool water and no dangerous current. With no big resorts or developments it’s a nice slice of the county.

This only thing I regret while visiting Parque Nacional Bahia Bellina is that I took no photos. Own my own there were two choices. Take photos or swim. Leave a camera alone on a beach in Costa Rica and it will be stolen.

Le Mirador - Bahia Drake

Yesterday I pushed the easy button and instead of two buses and a question mark I got to Sierpe from Dominical on a $30 straight shot taxi ride. Not bad considering the trip took over an hour and a half. The driver dropped me at a café bar called Las Vegas. I requested a collectivo and was directed to whoever was in queue. My name and destination was jotted in a book and I was told a boat would leave at 11:30. I ordered a fresh fruit shake and met a couple of Americans to chat clear English with. I’m tired of speaking broken English with the French. Yes, I’m still in Costa Rica.

Sierpe is a somewhat remote small village that sits next to a river. The river weaves its way through mangroves to the sea. From there it’s south along the Shoreline to Bahia Drake. A little further south and you reach Corcovado National Park. According to National Geographic and the Lost Planet Guide, it’s the most biologically intense place on the earth. Whatever that means.

I wasn’t planning on visiting Drake Bay but was persuaded by a woman I met in a bar in Quepos during the Super Bowl. She highly recommended a place called the Mirador so I put it in the option department. Many travelers rave about the Osa Peninsula so I figured I’d check it out. It’s located on the bottom southwest portion of Costa Rica.

The boat ride down the river is really cool. When you get to the mouth of a river that dumps into the ocean things can get a little interesting. The currents were confused and fairly large swells were breaking off rocks and sandbars. The boat driver had to creatively weave, dodge, and surf swells as various speeds to avoid crashing the wrong way into a break. It wasn’t scary. Just exciting. Just off shore we cruised south and made a beach landing to drop off a couple of people.
There are a number of places to stay along the shore near Drake bay. Some places are a bit on the Jungle themed swanky end of the scale and cater to a high end clientele while other places are quite basic and geared towards the budget eco traveler.

Don’t expect a dock landing as all drop off points are beach landings. I had tried emailing the Mirador a few times and called the night before. Communication was poor but as I understood I had a place to stay at least one night. When I got off the boat there were a couple of local guys asking a few us where we were staying and walked us to a truck. I made sure the ride was free and got the impression it was a courtesy of the village or something. They took right to the Mirador and I was walked up a hill.

Wow! The view is magnificent. The place was crawling with French but a Canadian from Ontario greeted me as he is a friend of the family who owns and runs the Mirador. He filled me in with info as I was being served lunch. Afterwards he showed me to my room which in my opinion is the best of the lot.

My accommodation sits somewhat precariously upon stilts and is built on a hillside. The building provides three separate cabinas. An open but covered deck allows for a nice breeze to pass through with a broad view of Drake Bay. My room is very basic. The walls are screen at the front and on one side with light cotton drapes for privacy. The floor is made of rough cut 1x6 boards with gaps in between. A solid homemade bunk bed provides a place to sleep and creative plumbing allows for a shower, sink and toilet at the back end. Everything is rustic but clean and reasonably maintained. For $46 a night I get accommodation plus 3 meals and the food is excellent. I dropped my pack and went for a walk and swim along the beach.

With waves crashing on the shore below and the light hum of a floor fan it makes for really good sleeping. Needless to say I slept very well last night. I think this is a 3+ night place but the lady in charge of booking keeps telling me she will check and see. Looks like I’m ok for night two. Don’t know about night three yet.

Surfing, Beer, and Philosphy

The only thing really Costa Rican about Dominical is that it’s in Costa Rica. Sure, plenty of Ticos run businesses but without Europeans, Americans, Australians and Canadians I don’t think there would be many people here. The surfing is impressive but it’s not a good place to swim and there are better beaches if you just want to lounge about. Hippies and surfers make up the vast majority of those staying more than a few days. While surfers worship the waves, hippies worship the herb, and travelers like myself drop in to observe it all. I will say though that the place has a cool vibe and the beer is always very cold.

Yesterday the waves were crackin rougher than what I saw a week ago. I watched one guy in the distance riding the lip of a barrel. He wiped out and lost his board. The board washed ashore and a dude picked it up for him. Surfer etiquette I’m told. The person who wiped out was having a chore of a time getting back to shore and could only do it by body surfing crumbly waves. Eventually he emerged from the water tall and lean boasting long hair and a long beard. He looked like a wet dog. He shook hands with the dude who picked up his board and paddled back out getting pummeled by erratic waves with every duck dive. As one surfer put it, “You always want to end your day with a good ride in”. He was headed back out for a good ride.

“Sometimes it’s better to let go of what you don’t need than to have what you want”, was the comment made by a surfer a few beers into our conversation. Not all surfers are ego driven lettuce head dudes with empty thoughts of parties and chicks. For many surfing is like a religion. It’s not just about challenging oneself to be better at riding a wave on a piece of Styrofoam covered with fiberglass and wax. It’s about overcoming fear, timing it just right, surviving the inevitable brush with death from time to time and living in the moment. Hours spent paddling about or just sitting on a board far from shore, waiting for the right set, has a tendency to challenge ones thought processes.

What does it mean? Letting go of what you don’t need is better than having what you want? People are obsessed with what they want. That tends to be the focus. Be whatever it is. A new car, a house, meeting the love of their life, more money, to be happy etc. etc. but what people have a hard time doing is letting go of what they don’t need. Often times people don’t even think about it. People hold onto thoughts, beliefs, material goods, emotions etc. etc. that really are not doing them any good. People have a tendency to cling tight to needless patterns and thoughts just like we store our material goods in closets and warehouses. Everyone to some degree holds on to what they don’t need. The lighter the load, the more room, the more freedom one has. By getting rid of what you don’t need you make room for what you want.

Dominical Sunset

By time I got down from Chirripo to my base accommodation at Francisco’s I had descended 8,000 feet in one push. The next morning I was feeling it. My right knee was sore and my calves felt locked up tight. What to do but hike some more to work out the stiffness. I headed up to the Cloudbridge Nature Reserve for the afternoon and enjoyed some very nice peaceful trails amidst tropical forest along a river with idyllic waterfalls.

Aside of the stiffness and mild affects of feeling the altitude at the higher elevations I felt ok, however, I’m far from the hiker/climber, cross country skier, and mountain runner I once was while living in Colorado. My pace is a little slower and endurance a little lesser. Having based myself out of Houston since 2004 has reaffirmed by status as a flatlander. I do a good job at maintaining a decent level of fitness and am always in pretty good shape but as I enter into the backside of my 40’s I think it’s more important to maintain a consist training activity level of some sort. Older athletes always say, “Just keep doing it and you won’t lose it”. I find it nice that I no longer feel a competitive drive like I use to. I just like being fit and healthy. It’s a part of who I’ve always been.

Yesterday morning I awoke for no reason and a short while later there was an earthquake. Francisco’s wood framed corrugated roof structure took it well. What I felt was pretty mild but it got my attention. The epicenter was somewhere near San Jose and registered a 6.1 which is actually a fairly significant earthquake but there wasn’t much damage anywhere. No problema. Pura Vida.

Due to limited bus service it took me all day to travel approximately 50 miles from the Mt Chirripo area back to the edgy surf community of Dominical. While in the mountains I got in 4 days of hiking which really charged me up. Doing nothing by the beach has its place in my interest as I love the ocean but long walks in the wilderness or countryside do more good for my spirit than about anything.

Back in Dominical I went straight to the hotel I stayed at a week ago and checked into the same room. The owner was happy to see me again but a little angry due to a last minute cancellation by a friend who had booked the entire property. I dropped my pack and headed to the beach to join about a hundred or so free spirits, backpackers, and surfers for a nice sunset.

Chirripo Sunrise

At 5:30 in the morning I arrived at the Ranger Station with two French Canadians. A couple of people were already ahead of us and had been sleeping in their vehicle. A group of five Germans showed around 6 am and a single French woman a little later.

If you want the Climb Mt Chirripo, the highest mountain in Costa Rica, you have to have a permit. Only 40 are allotted each day. Thirty are for those who reserve well in advance while up to 10 are made available the day before. On Thursday there were seven available for the following day.

Well, my mini laptop is mysteriously working perfectly again so I’ve got some catching up to do with the Blog. I arrived in the vicinity of Chirripo National Park on Wednesday after taking a bus from Dominical to San Isidro de El General. From there I shared a taxi with two French Canadians to San Gerardo de Rivas. They had the same plan as me to climb Mt. Chirripo.

Mt Chirripo stands 12,532 feet in the center of Parque Nacioional Chirripo. There’s a very nice well maintained trail that starts a little below 5,000 feet and ascends well over 7,500 feet in 12 miles. It’s an honest hike. For someone who is really fit it can be done in a day but it would be a very long day with a lesser chance of catching a good view on top. The summit tends to be clear in the morning and cloudy in the afternoon.

The standard way of climbing the mountain is to hike 9 miles the first day ascending over 6,000 feet to a Refugio(hut) for a night. The following morning you get up around 3 am and hike to the summit for sunrise. From there most people descend back to the Refugio, pack their stuff, and head down. Others might stay another night and explore a variety of other trail options in the area. To stay overnight in the park you must have a permit.

When I first arrived in Gerardo de Riva the 2 French Canadians and I checked into a basic hotel run by Francisco Elizondo. Franciso just happens to be a local mountain running legend who doesn't waste his time walking up Chirripo. He runs it! He’s also a very friendly helpful host and makes an impression of being a very good man. Francisco not only offers basic accommodation but rents hiking equipment and operates a little restaurant with the hotel. He caters to the hiker. Especially those that come here to climb the peak. For $15 I have my own room with shared bathroom. Meals run around $6. Extras like a ride to the trailhead, baggage storage, etc. are included with the price of the room.

With a whole free day left after acquiring our permits the Canadians and I went on a short hike through some jungle up to a view and around a coffee plantation past banana trees. I spent the rest of my time organizing stuff and lounging on a rock next to a river.

On Friday morning Franciso gave us a ride up to the trailhead and we got to walking around 7:30. As expected, the path steeply ascended immediately. We hiked together for awhile before settling into our own paces. Each kilometer is marked along with a sign stating the elevation with some words of inspiration in English and Spanish to encourage one further and higher. No doubt about it. It’s a grind.

Somewhere around 10,000 feet things really change. Up to that point it’s thick forested jungle but as you round a ridge the environment appears oddly dry. It’s like hiking from a wet valley into a dry valley which is probably the case but naturally altitude has a lot of affect on what will or will not grow. From 10,000 feet on the environment and vegetation reminded me more of a something you might find in a semi desert mountain range. The trail became more rocky and dusty.

A little less than 6 ½ hours one of the Canadians and I reached the Refugio. I was ready to stop and was noticing some mild affects from the elevation. I was content with watching clouds and intermittent sun dance around mountain ridges for the rest of the day.

The Canadians and I were given a room with two bunk beds. The Refugio is a bit stark and utilitarian with no real character but it serves its purpose with a common area, clean drinking water, toilets, and cold showers. Nothing else is provided. One must bring their own food, sleeping bag, cooking stove, etc. We called it an early night and planned to get up at 3 am.

We awoke at 3 am and got started around 3:45. It was cold enough for a hat, gloves and light coat but not bad. We walked together for a little bit then I went ahead on my own. It was dark but with totally clear skies and bright moonlight I didn’t need my head lamp. It was beautiful night and perfect for ascending the summit.

Around 5:30am I reached the top. The Canadians and I were the last the leave the Refugio for sunrise and there were about 20 others on the summit when I arrived. Most were Germans while the rest appeared to be from Costa Rica. At 5:45 the Canadians topped out just in time for an orange ball of light to pop over the edge of a thin dark line marking the horizon. I was in no hurry to rush down.

A Note From Domincal

I wasn´t sure if I was going to stop in Domincal or not but when I got off the bus and walked around the the corner, off a dusty mainstreet, to a view large waves coming in regualar sets, I thought it might be a good idea to kick back with an Imperial and watch the surfers.

Domincal is an dusty, edgy surf town where things haven´t changed much since American, European, and Australian surfers descended upon it years ago. Surfing is more or less my favorite armchair sport so the village kind of appeals to me. I checked into a nicer little more expensive place with my own bathroom and air conditioning for the night. Sometimes you just need a little bit of luxury. I stopped by the backpacker places first but non were too appealing. I then headed to a beachside restaurant bar for a large piece of fresh fish (Dorado) with rice, beans and cerveza.

The bar was full of people from somewhere else. Some arrived years ago while others just a few months ago. A super fit early middle aged bronzed surfer chick worked the bar and cranked ganster rap over a boom box. I don´t much care for ganster rap but with edgy surfers amidst swaying palm trees and dudes ripping the curl in the horizon, the music seemed appropriate. Una mas cerveza, por favor. For me its a one or two night town.

On another note my mini laptop is in on the skids and unless it mysteriously repairs itsfelf it´s No Funciona, Kaputz, Broke and Done Did. After bumping around the backpack through numerous countries I guess it´s time is up. The downside is that I´m not sure how convenient or inspiring blogging will be during the remainder of my trip. Cest la Vie.

My general plans for the next week are to climb Mt Chirripo, the highest mountain in Costa Rica, then trek around the Oso Peninsula.

Imperial Lifestyle - Pura Vida, Pura Cerveza!

Sometimes Life Is Like a Beer Commercial......

Quepos - Sloth In a Tree

This morning I awoke, went for a run, and pretty quickly decided to spend a day in Quepos writing and not doing much. By afternoon I hadn’t done too much writing as I tend to get sidetracked talking to other travelers. I’m quite social when I travel and can start up a conversation with just about anyone.

I wasn’t able to get my computer to work on the hostel wifi and was feeling pretty uninspired by the heat. Ceiling fans weren’t quite cutting it for me. I thought it would be a good idea to seek out a cold drink elsewhere. “Air Conditioned”, pasted to the window in orange sticker letters caught my attention at Wacky Wanda’s bar.
I stepped in and asked, “Tiene wifi?”. “Si”. I was then handed a code and ordered a beer. When my computer hooked right up I thanked the bar tender and he responded, “Pura Vida”!

From what I can tell more than a few Americans have opened up businesses in Quepos. Wacky Wanda’s is obviously American owned and I can pretty much decipher what the owner is like and where he’s from. Pictures of Ronald Reagan, George Bush, and Sarah Palin decorate the walls as well as numerous photos of gringo anglers with a sailfish or the like. Everything about the place is American Gulf Coast but all of the clientele is local. I’m the only gringo drinking here right now.

Quepos is a great place for the deep sea sport fishing enthusiast and I actually had a last minute opportunity to go on a charter this morning. I definitely would have gone but the cost would have been too high. Estimated cost with one other person would have been around $400 plus I’m sure I would have been expected to tip on top of that. The opportunity was too last minute. For me I want to meet the captain, see the boat, and check sea conditions before embarking on an all day excursion 50 miles away from shore. Also, there are good opportunities back home off the Texas Coast that if I ever get a burning desire.

In Quepos a group of 5 could probably get out for about $200 total each. Not a bad for a chance to catch somethun Big! However, no matter how you cut it, deep sea fishing is an expensive game no matter where you go.

Yesterday I hiked about Manuel Antonio National Park with Lara from Brooklyn who I met at the hostel. At first I was a little put off by the numbers of visitors but in reality it wasn’t too bad for a Saturday. The park consists of thick jungle set on a peninsula next to the ocean. It’s advisable to go with a guided group as the guides are incredibly skilled at spotting everything that blends right into the colors of the Jungle. They also carry a scope for their clients to view through.
At first I just wanted to walk and get away from the crowds so we passed on the guided option.

Probably the most interesting thing about the park is that it has a large population of Sloths. There are plenty to see but they really blend into the colors of tree bark so you have to look hard or hire a guide to look for you. Another technique is to look for other tourists who have spotted one. Lara and I saw a few as well as some monkeys. The best part of the park in my opinion is a hike up to a water fall. The trail is closed a short distance up but we chose not to see the yellow tape. Beyond the yellow tape there was no one but a monkey swinging on vines, a vulture eating a dead snake, and dear chewing on some leaves. The waterfall was nothing special but being surrounding by a quiet rich thick humid jungle was pretty cool.

The park area is quite small and aside of a wide guided tour group trail and a crowded day use beach the rest of the park sees a lot less traffic. If you’re into viewing Sloths and few monkeys it’s worth a visit otherwise there are plenty of other jungle options in Costa Rica.

Well, I know there’s an NRA (National Rifle Association) sticker in Wacky Wanda’s bar somewhere. I think I’ll go see if I can find it.

Note: See a sloth in the middle of the photo above. It looks like part of the tree.

Montezuma to Quepos

February 2, Thursday

For day three in Montezuma I chose to step it down a bit and moved to a row of backpacker accommodations right on the beach. I exchanged my $32 hotel room with a roaring air conditioner for a $20 dollar room in a hostel with a fan, shared bath, and community kitchen. Ironically, I chose the place that smelled like insecticide a couple of days before.

On the morning I returned, the place smelled fresh and clean. It was much more appealing than my first impression. The manager asked if I would like the floors of my room cleaned as the German man who just left had been there for over a month. I said, “Sure, Fine”. All communication was done in Spanish.

I went back to the roaring air conditioner Hotel to grab my pack and returned the hostel to find a kind lady doing a dandy of a job cleaning the floors. An insecticide smell immediately caught my attention and about knocked me out. I noticed the cleaning solution being used was something contained in a recycled plastic water bottle. It looked totally unofficial and homemade. The cleaning lady appeared to be quite happy with her work. I thanked her and she responded with a big smile. I quickly dumped my pack and rushed out for a dose of fresh air. I wasn’t sure what the smell actually was but it reminded me of a peculiar order that I experienced in India where something was being used to prevent bed bugs.

After a long walk along the coast to a couple of beaches I returned to the room. Fortunately it didn’t smell near as intense and seemed to be dissipating nicely. I grabbed a couple of beers and retreated to a hammock on the beach.
The beach side hostel accommodations are some of the most desirable for those seeking a cheap place to stay. After a couple of days in Montezuma I decided that it wasn’t such a sketchy place after all, however, there is at least one village crazy along with some questionable characters scattered about. Yesterday morning the town crazy, looking rough, hobbled, and little beyond middle age, yelled across the beach for a Revolution but no one was taking him seriously. Pura Vida Amigo.

As I sunk into to a hammock with a couple of cans of Imperial Beer I observed those about me. Three locals sitting on a bench with a fishing pole took a break to smoke a handmade herbal cigarette. A mix of young Europeans and a few Costa Rican's lounged about. Some looked a little dodgy. A pleasant breeze blew across the water making a hot day feel serenely cool. I thought it might be a good idea to type on my mini laptop while swinging in a hammock with a beer but I was overtaken by complacency and distracted by a lovely woman in a red bikini.

Sun and Cerveza suggested it might be a good idea to get some some lunch. I thought another beer would be good and forgot to ask the price which gave the waiter an opportunity to over charge me 60 cents. It’s never the amount that bothers me but the principl irritates me. Nonetheless, I know better to always ask the price before buying anything. Anyway, I brushed it off and returned to the hostel. The town crazy was making himself comfortable in a one of the hammocks randomly blaring out lyrics to American classics in English, “You are so beautiful to me!”

February 3, Friday

The end of the road might seem like some a romantic sojourn into a blissful euphoric Samadhi or a little slice of heaven on earth. Perhaps it is for a moment, a day or for a segment of life but eventually the end of the road is just the end of the road.

One day in the beach hostel was enough. Although I had been told the nights had been very quiet it was not the case during my stay. All night long there was partying and loud talking on the beach. I’m not sure who was involved but everyone was speaking Spanish and sounded local. I’d had enough of Montezuma and made quick arrangements to hop a small boat off the beach in front of the Hostel to Jaco. From there I planned to catch a bus to Quepos to visit Manuel Antonio National Park to hike around and look at Monkeys and Sloths.

I was never really all that taken by Montezuma but it is an interesting little place worth a stop. For me it has an odd and strange vibe. One moment I’d kind of like it. The next moment I’d feel like leaving. If you’re a hippy that likes to smoke dope and just hang out you might want to stay for awhile, otherwise, two to four days is plenty in my opinion. The coastline is quite nice but the swimming isn’t that great. The water has a bit of an odd odor and sometimes rip currents can be an issue. If it weren’t for all of the Americans and Europeans there would be little to Montezuma aside of the natural beauty.

The trip to Quepos went super easy. A 9:30 boat got me to Jaco in about an hour and a half for $40. By doing so I avoided a long round about series of hot buses. In Jaco I found myself at a bus stop with about ten or so backpackers. The word was that no one really knew when exactly the bus was going to arrive and we would all be lucky to get a seat. One woman started bargaining with a mini van taxi driver across the street and arranged for him to take a bunch of us for the hour plus ride to Quepos at a rate of $8 each. The driver dropped us off at the main bus station and told me of a hostel just up the street.

The Wide Mouth Frog is a foreign run European style hostel that caters to American and European travelers. It’s built around a courtyard with a swimming pool, large common area, and communal kitchen. The architecture is consistent with the surrounding Latin American architecture but kept up to a little higher standard. For $30 I chose a single room with breakfast included and went for a swim. In the evening I kicked backed and chatted with a woman from Brooklyn. We planned to hike around the park together the next day.

As I’ve mentioned in past posts hostels are a great place to easily meet other travelers, pick up information, or find a travel partner for the next long bus ride etc.,. Hostels are not always he best option for the solo traveler seeking their own room but if you don’t mind dorms they’re hard to beat. Sometimes a hostel can feel like an insulated bubble of sorts. It’s nice to seek refuge from the stresses of a foreign culture within the confines of an enclosed courtyard and gated entrance where everyone speaks some degree of English but it can also make me feel like I’m missing out on a more authentic cultural experience. But then again. It's right outside the locked gate.

Montezuma Story

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.