Yesterday it rained cats and dogs all day long and Turrialba didn’t really show itself in its prettiest light. (Or maybe that was just my own bad mood influencing things…) In any case, I wasn’t too excited about going white-water rafting today. But when we opened our curtains today, the sky was blue, the sun was shining and the woodpeckers outside of our window were doing their best to wake up insects and everything else in a 5 mile radius. All was right again. So off we went to raft on the Pacuare, supposedly one of the best rivers for rafting in central America.

The last time we went white-water rafting was in New Zealand in 2003 so it’s been a while but it turns out that rafting is much like riding a bicycle – you don’t forget. We shared a boat with a couple from San José and our guide Rainer. The rapids ranged from level II to IV (VI is the highest) but even though Rainer warned us that we might flip on one especially tough one, we just sailed down the river smooth as butter. Except for that one moment when I almost fell out of the boat. But my foot was stuck under the bench in front so I managed to drag myself back in before a rescue mission had to be initiated.

During our lunch break, Rainer entertained us with some crazy stunts (even crazier considering that one of his legs is only half as long as the other one; he reaches for his crutches at the end of the video):

After lunch we continued on the softer part of the river and did some swimming alongside the boat (great fun floating down on a life jacket but it’s a bitch to get back into the boat afterwards).
We landed in Siquirres, where we’ll head again tomorrow on our way to Puerto Viejo, and drove back to our hotel Turrialtico near Turrialba. (A very nice place which will not be getting a mention in this post. Even though they do have very thin walls and we happen to have very vocal neighbours…)

Unlike Mexico where we had each stop carefully planned months in advance, we hadn’t made any real plans for our stay in Costa Rica besides the week of surfing with Henriikka. Once she left, we just looked in our guide book for a place to stay in the general area where we wanted to go and booked a room at random.

Oh guide books, how deceiving you can be… We landed in a hotel that looked like it might have been grande once. Greek style columns dotted the lofty entrance hall, a sweeping staircase lead down to the dining room and the micro-brewery (no kidding!) and, as pointed out in the guide book, there really was a spa and tennis court. Even the view of lake Arenal below was majestic as promised. Problem was, the place looked like no one had used any of it for the past couple of years. Paint was peeling on every column, bare bulbs were hanging from the unfinished lightsockets in the ceiling, the micro brewery had never been used and the lobby was full of lumpy futons and saggy leathercouches. Together with the smell of stale cigarettes lingering in the air, I was instantly transported back to the smoking rooms in boarding school.

The owner, an American who had lived here for a long time although you wouldn’t assume so from his Spanish, showed us to our room. It was his best one he said and far away from the noise so he was sure we’d like it. There were ants in the bathroom and the sheets were damp but it was cheap and had a nice view so we agreed to stay for three nights. Boy was that a mistake.

I’m not going to recount the whole time we spent there because a lot of it was just filled with creepy atmosphere, increased by constant rain, low lighting and the fact that we were the only guests. (Yet the place was full of kids and teenagers who sort of worked there, mainly burning our food. Half of them calling the owner ‘Papi’.) The lowpoint though came on our second evening when Conor and I made the mistake of accepting the owner’s invitation to join him at the hotel bar where he’d been hard at work since the early afternoon with a bunch of mates. By the time we sat down for a beer at the little counter, everyone was well on their way to serious inebriation and Conor and I just tried to sit quietly and smile. Of course that didn’t work, someone started to talk politics and things just got confusing. One of the guys kept saying how much he hated the US and what a shitty place it was but that he was so proud that he had fought in Kuwait. (He was a US citizen, naturally.) He’d lived for 20 years in Costa Rica but he wasn’t interested in giving up his citizenship. Actually, after I asked him about that he seemed offended and stopped talking.

But goody for us because now the girlfriend’s owner had a chance to start talking. She was tiny and possibly even more intoxicated than the former soldier but she kept taking big swigs from her rum cocktail, telling us all about how much she loved nature. And that the Spaniards didn’t get it when they invaded the Americas that nature can’t be mined or sold that it’s just beautiful and you have to love it and she just loved it SO MUCH! She was starting to freak me out a little because she wouldn’t break eye-contact when she told me all this. Just kept saying how much she loved nature and that it made her feel so good inside. I’d never been hit on by a woman before so it took me a second to realize. Then things just got awkward because her boyfriend, the owner, started asking us if we had children. When we said ‘No’ he wanted to know why not? And was I thinking about having children soon? Because our species, and Germans in particular, needed to be continued and it was important for women to have children. (He had a real beef with the Germans and how they had a new grand plan to take over the world only smarter this time. They were going to spread their genes by producing loads and loads of offspring. I must have missed that memo…) Obviously getting lectured on our reproductive duties by a drunk gringo in a decrepit hotel bar was going just a little outside the comfort zone and I started telling Conor that I was really tired and oh my, would you look at the time? We have to get up early tomorrow, so sorry but we really should be going now. After several more slurry scoldings about still being childless and a long, tight and very uncomfortable hug from the girlfriend, we finally escaped to the safety of our room. I can’t remember the last time I was so happy to leave a place behind.

After this experience we didn’t want to stake too much on our guidebook’s info so we decided to not plan anything and simply drive to our next destination and start looking around. That brought us a few gems as well. One night in Tamarindo we found a wonderful little apartment by the sea but unfortunately it was already booked for the night. We could have it starting tomorrow though! So we decided to splurge and booked ourselves into a swanky all-inclusive resort for one night. Conor made eyes at the receptionst and got us in at the Tico rate, i.e. the price Costa Ricans’ pay. Neither one of us had ever stayed at a place where everything was included and in retrospect I understand why. Because food and drink was included in the price of the room, it became all about the food and drink. Especially the drink. Of course the hotel is not stupid and waters the drinks down to a certain point as well as using the cheapest alcohol they can possibly get away with (Conor’s drink tasted suspiciously of paint thinner). But that almost makes it worse because everyone just downs their piña coladas and margaritas like water before running to get more. Throw in some onion rings and fries while you’re at it. And all this at ten o’clock in the morning. But hey, it’s free!

We only spent one night there and only ate at the buffett, no onion rings and fries by the pool, but we were stuffed to the gills anyway and promised not to eat for the next 48hrs. The unexpected highlight of that hotel? The wildlife. As soon as the sun set racoons came out of the bushes surrounding the pool, scouring the area for leftovers and trash. At first we got all excited and thought it was such a hoot that there was a racoon running around the pool! But as we walked to our room on the far end of the property we realized that there were racoons EVERYwhere: in the hallways, rooting through the trash cans, even at the kitchen! It seems they too had gotten the all-inclusive package.

While I was running back to the room to get the camera, Conor watched this little guy making a quick round of the table, tasting all the drinks but eventually returning to his original choice. Apparently the other three cocktails were ‘virgins’.

That’s Conor and me at the moment, we’re living the life of gluttonous sloths. After three intense days of surfing in Santa Teresa (on the waves by 6am every morning for the sunrise session) we moved on to Dominical, supposedly for the surfing as well. But the house we had rented turned out to be located half-way up a mountain so instead of hitting the waves we stayed put for three days and enjoyed the spectacular view over the ocean instead.

Before we arrived at the house, we made the mistake of buying groceries. Before lunch. So we had three large bags of food for our three days in Dominical – we baked bread, made cookies, had delicious chicken, veggies and mashed potatoes. It was wonderful to have our own kitchen again. We’d already stayed at a studio with kitchen back in Tamarindo but there we basically lived off smoothies because that kitchen came with a blender. In response Conor went a little crazy in the fruit aisle and bought enough papayas, bananas and berries to keep us in smoothies for days.

Besides admiring the scenery of Dominical and gorging ourselves on home-cooked food, we also got some work done and cuddled with our assorted new pets. (The owner of the house lived next door with two dogs, Bart and Burt, and a cat, Cat.) We left the house once, on Saturday morning, to see the farmer’s market held at the Uvita football field. It turned out to be more of a meeting point for the gringos of the area but with organic black bean soup and gluten-free brownies on sale, I guess it qualified as a market. The really interesting part was the football field’s scoreboard though: the match for Tuesday night was listed as ‘Surferos vs Putas’ – what a game that must have been…

After that we moved on to Drake Bay which is all the way in the south of the country, almost touching Panama on the Pacific side. One of the most spectacular national parks is located here, Corcovado, and there’s good diving at the nearby Isla del Caño. Unfortunately Conor caught the cold from me so we weren’t able to go diving but went snorkeling instead. Also took a tour of the park and saw quite an amazing range of animals: starting with a juvenile whale on our boat ride over to the park entrance, followed by hawks, crocodiles, tucans, four different species of monkeys (squirrel, spider, white-faced and howler) and the pièce de résistance, a puma.

Our guide, Edwin, had told us that there were pumas in the park and that he had seen four in his six years of working here. So we didn’t really expect that to happen. But just towards the end of our tour, he suddenly turned around and said “Puma!”, pointing straight into the tree in front of us. And there it was, just standing and inspecting us. We stuck around for about 25 min. to see if it would maybe get some lunch – there were some very agitated monkeys in the tree tops all around us, screaming their heads off about the puma in their midst – but unfortunately he seemed to have eaten already. Or else he didn’t want to make a spectacle in front of the humans. The monkeys, being the curious animals they are, couldn’t resist coming closer and closer to the puma to inspect it. But only to run off again screeching and screaming. Probably to tell their friends “Holy shit, it’s really a puma!”

At the Epcot Aquarium we met a couple of sea turtles during our dive that struck me as very large at the time but they were nothing compared to the Leatherback momma we saw a few nights ago.

We arrived at the Parque Marino Las Baulas for our appointed ‘turtle-time’ at 10:30pm. There was already a small crowd gathered, most of them reading books or magazines and looking comfortably installed for a long wait. We on the other hand hadn’t brought even an iPod to while away the time. It hadn’t occurred to us that turtle(s) might be late or even decide not to appear at all that night, oops!
As soon as we sat down in front of the park station though, movement came into the rangers: radios crackled, orders were barked and everyone was looking for ‘Zuleyman’. I’m not sure if Zuleyman eventually turned up or if they decided they simply had to do without him but they got us all to line up in front of the office to pay our entrance fees. After only two people paid – which took some time since currencies had to be converted, colones counted, dollars found, etc. – the guards outside of the station started bellowing for everyone to come onto the road, right now, come quickly, everyone line up, two groups. Boyfriends were lost (and found), old ladies from Florida hooted and cackled and finally we got our marching orders to the beach.

The short walk was supposed to be done in darkness and ideally complete silence but there wasn’t much chance of that happening with the hooting Floridian around. The few houses on the side of the road all had dark tinted windows and if they had lights outside in the yard they were of a dark greenish color. There were no streetlights anywhere and even our guide only had a very limp flashlight. All this is of course for the turtles who are coming up to the beach to nest – bright lights irritate them and could potentially scare them away for good. (Although we learned that Leatherbacks are the only species of sea turtle that isn’t too picky about their nesting. They can move to another beach in the same area if they deem the ‘home’ beach unfit for the eggs.)

Once on the beach, only a few metres away from the entrance, we saw some red lights flicking back and forth. These were the rangers who were already with the turtle, aiding her with the nest dig and waiting for her to drop the eggs. Because she had chosen a location so close to the entrance of the beach, they were going to collect the eggs as she laid them and relocate them to a hatchery further down the beach later.

There were way too many of us tourists, almost 30, so we were divided into several smaller groups and lead around the beach to approach the turtle from different angles and in stages. No one was allowed directly in front of the turtle since that could scare her and cameras, cell phones or any other light-emitting, photo-taking devices were strictly prohibited. Finally our group was lead to one side of the giant dinosaur so we could watch her finish the nest and lay her eggs.

The size of the turtle was unbelievable. It measured over a meter and a half in length. The rangers measure and if necessary tag the turtle while it’s out of the water. It laid on the sand like a giant boulder, slowly moving her hind-flippers in a digging motion first to keep opening the hole and then once she dropped her eggs, to close it. As mentioned before, the rangers picked the eggs up because of the nest’s location, but she didn’t seem to mind or even notice that there was someone holding a plastic bag under her rear-end. I have to admit that I felt a bit sorry for her, all those people crowding around, trying to get a good-look at her part of the reproductive cycle. People were throwing bitchy looks at each other as they tried to hustle for the best position (as much as you can throw bitchy looks in complete darkness on a moonless night) and all that was missing really was for someone to give the turtle a little shove so that they could see better.

Eventually we were lead away again to make way for another group to watch and we got some turtle info from our guide Carlos. (He didn’t speak much English so Conor did the honors of translating.) Carlos showed us the tracks the turtle left when she heaved herself up the beach – they are about 30cm wide, looking like a little tractor drove through. You can easily distinguish the prints left by her fore-flippers (tractor-like indentations) which she uses to pull her massive body up the beach and the back-flippers (smooth, wavey tracks) which she uses to push. You can even see the line left by the egg sack that already hangs down low under her belly, ready to dispense her little ones. Since the eggs were in a plastic bag now, one of the rangers was taking them around the groups to show them and let us gently touch the shells. They are off-white and squishy, like large, soft ping-pong balls.

Then it was time for us to leave the beach because turtle momma had closed her nest and was ready to move back out into the ocean. We would have loved to see her make her way back down the beach but unfortunately that was not an option. Instead we had to go pay our dues at the ranger station and then got to watch a short video about leatherbacks, the park and the conservation efforts they were taking to protect the species.

We recently spent two nights at the “Rincon de la vieja” national park, literally “The old woman’s corner”. As in many parcs of Costa Rica, there were volcanoes, bubbling mud, thermal waters and a few choice wildlife sightings. The reason we went to the park in the first place was to climb the crater of the Rincon de la vieja volcano from which, on a good day with a lot of luck, you can see the Pacific, Lake Nicaragua and according to some even the Caribbean sea. This is what it looked like the afternoon we arrived at the park:

Of course we were excited about our good luck with the weather. If it looked like this today, it shouldn’t be all that different tomorrow, right? Ah, Costa Rica, land of clouds and water… We DID make it up about 2/3 of the way the next morning but once we went past the tree line it began to rain, thick fog crept in and it started getting uncomfortably cold with the wind whipping around our heads.

Sadly that was the end of the path for us that day. (In all fairness, the park ranger down at the entrance of the park had warned us and said we wouldn’t be able to make it up today. But one can always hope, no?) We turned around towards the good weather again. At the bottom of the mountain is was hot and sunny! Still, we saw a lot of quintessential Tico things on our hike: a spider monkey and some peacock-like birds that were much too quick on their feet for us to get a good look, some beautiful trees:

and of course hot springs and mud pools:

That night we also saw a beautiful sunset from the Guachipelin ranch look-out so all in all, a wonderful day. Even without volcano ascension.

So, highlight of my day? I got sprayed with jaguar juice. Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d write…

We were at “Las Pumas” wild cat rehab center, looking at a very beautiful male adolescent jaguar who was restlessly padding back and forth in a tiny cage linked to his much larger enclosure. To show sympathy – honestly I don’t know WHAT I was doing – I crouched down to get a better look at the feline. That’s when the bastard turned around and squirted me with a generous helping of his marking juice. (What is the real name for that? Personal scent? Identifying fluid?) Whatever it is called, it’s pretty gross getting it all over yourself. At least it didn’t smell musky; it just smelled like grass. (Yes of course I smelt it!)

The perpetrator – looking like he wouldn’t harm a fly.

Once Conor managed to pick himself up off the floor and get his laughter under control, we went for breakfast and on to the Rio Celeste waterfalls in the Tenorio national park. We saw some amazingly large spiders hanging out in their nets just outside the park office but those were pretty much the only wildlife we saw on our three hour walk to and from the waterfalls, if you discount the myriad ant colonies that crossed our paths. I was a bit worried for a while that my morning scent bath would attract some unwanted attention. Who knows what I was advertising: single male jaguar seeks female for long walks on the beach and cozy nights by the fire? But maybe I was in fact the reason why we didn’t see any animals that day. They all smelt a very large jaguar on two legs coming through. I would have taken off too.

We drove up to see the Arenal volcano which, lucky for us, was for once not shrouded in clouds. It was rainy and grey but we could see the smoking tip of the crater and wallow in our recklessness at staying so close to this deadly contraption. (I’m only half kidding – the volcano is very much active and in this century a few people have been killed by explosions already. But mostly hikers who went beyond the official paths so we were probably pretty safe at our hotel a few kilometers away.)

El Arenal had been dormant until a major explosion rocked the little town of Fortuna and surroundings in the summer of 1968. Around 90 people were killed during these eruptions and probably around the same time tourism started booming in the area. There are more volcano-themed lodges, B&Bs and resorts than you can throw a stick at.

We stayed at the vaguely fancy Volcano Lodge with superior views of the volcano and an acceptable breakfast buffet. The view from our little terrace was perfect but unfortunately the orange-glowing lava flows did not appear at night.

Since there was no flowing lava to enthrall us we opted for a night bath in the river instead. Most tourists who come to the Arenal area go for one of the Volcano+Spa+Dinner packages. There are three different price levels, depending on the fanciness of the spa. Being the cheapskates that we are (or just more tuned in to the local spirit?) we went for the completely free option instead: a bath in the river that’s fed by the thermal pools.

The water is steaming hot and rushes fast over the cemented river bed. We had an approximate idea of where the river entrance was but since it was pitch dark already (6pm) it took us two passes before we found it. Getting down to the river was a whole other obstacle since we’d forgotten our torch at the hotel. But eventually we managed to run down the small gap in the wall that lead to the river entrance under the bridge. There was some climbing and cursing involved but when we made it into the hot water and submerged ourselves with just a tiny bit of apprehension, it was definitely worth the trip.

Anything could have been around us – giant waterfalls, axe murderers, venomous water snakes – but we took comfort in the locals seated nearby and told ourselves that it couldn’t possibly be all that dangerous if they were here as well, right?! It might not surprise you that when we went back the next morning and saw the place in daylight, it was rather disappointing and we were almost glad that we had come while it was dark.

If you’re ever in the area and want to enjoy the same free bath, head to the Tabacon spa, park your car across the street and look for the little path leading down next to the bridge. Just remember to bring a torch.

On our third day of surfing I was ready to pack it in and move on. It wasn’t so much that I couldn’t do it – I’d stood up several times already and even had one or two really nice rides – but the effort was simply too much. The energy needed to paddle out again after having caught a wave was so great that my body was screaming for me to stop. My arms were beyond pain, they simply went limp. My head was roaring with pain from the sun, exhaustion and frustration and my hip bones were black and blue from lying on the surf board. It was only my stubbornness that kept me going back until my head and the board had a little unfortunate meeting and I decided to call it a day. That night, I pretty much resolved for myself that I was going to finish the course, there were only two more days left after all, and then I’d never have to look at a surfboard again. Thank you very much but surfing is not my sport.

The next day was our day off and Edwin, the driver, took us to the Manuel Antonio national park for a beautiful walk. We saw sloths hanging out, frisky capuchin monkeys playing in the trees right above us and a white-nosed coati on his lunch run.

The views from the top of the park were breath-taking.

There were quite a few tourists but because Edwin does this trip every Wednesday he knew exactly which spots to check for wildlife and how to get away from the crowds. We took a quick dip in the ocean, had lunch and then headed back home. It was wonderful to spend a day doing something completely different, clear the mind and leave all thoughts of surfing far far behind.

And wouldn’t you know it – that’s exactly what the head and body needed. The next day we were back on the boards and I couldn’t wait to get out there. I rode every wave the teachers put me on and each time I paddled back out grinning from ear to ear, ready for the next ride. Mind you, my body was still in pain and after the 7th ride or so, I was ready to curse some more but that was all secondary to getting out there and catching a wave. That had become the objective and the fun and I finally got what all the fuzz was about.

PS: Regarding photos – the only way we could get the pictures of us surfing was to buy a CD each for US $25. That seemed a bit excessive so we don’t have any professional pictures of our antics in the waves. But one of our surfing buddies, Lynn, took some pictures on our last day so at least we have something… Thanks Lynn!

Today was our second day surfing and the bruise on my hip is developing a nice pinkish purple colour. I have aches in muscles that I didn’t know I had, my ribs are sore and my knees are bright red. Yes, I’m a surfing newbie.

We’re in Jacó, about 100km south west of San José, Costa Rica, on the pacific coast. The town of Jacó is not terribly exciting – sort of like a Central American version of Paguera, Mallorca – but the waves are decent and there are several beaches to choose from depending on your level of expertise. Our surf camp, Vista Guapa, isn’t at the beach but rather up a little hill about 3 km inland. This means we can’t walk to the ocean or even into town but we get a killer view.

There are only four of us in the group at the moment and we have three instructors so the level of attention we get is great. Especially since Conor is starting to catch his own waves already without the helpful push of one of the instructors so it’s almost three on three. (I haven’t got any pictures of us surfing yet because I’m either in the water trying to paddle like mad or too tired to care and get the camera. But Wendy, the wife of one of the owners is usually with us taking pictures so I’m hoping she’ll share those later.)

When we’re not out surfing – we’re only about 2-3 hours a day in the water – or moaning about our sore arms and bones – that takes up almost as much time as surfing – we’re enjoying all the other stuff Costa Rica has to offer. On our first day we went for a canopy zip line tour which wasn’t as scary as the Go Ape experience we had in England but it was still great fun with 13 zip lines zigzaging down the mountain until you arrived at the camp once more.

Henriikka and Conor looking stylish while some poor schmuck in the back got stuck on the zip line

The day after tomorrow we have a day off from surfing, to recuperate I suppose, and we’ll be going to the Manuel Antonio National Park, about 70km from here. Everyone has raved about how wonderful the wildlife is there, especially the monkeys, so hopefully we’ll get to see some. (As Edwin, one of the camp staff members said, unfortunately you can’t reserve the animals for a viewing.) On Thursday we’re thinking about going on a little horseback riding tour to see waterfalls in the jungle. And then on Friday we’re off to see some volcanoes erupt north of San José. But first, concentrate on surfing. “Paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, UP!!!”