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.