nowhere to go but everywhere

Okay, so Manuel Antonio is a place and not a person. But if he were a person he’d be a very good looking one but he’d know it, and he would probably have had some work done – maybe butt implants and teeth whitening. He’d also wear a lot of bling which would be a shame because if you could get the bikini clad women and board-shorted men away from him he’d probably be a decent guy!

After four weeks of “hard work” at the Centro de Educacion Creativo I thought I could do with a luxury weekend. I think Manuel Antonio is probably the most postcarded place in Costa Rica and the beaches on the postcards look beautiful so I thought I’d brave the four and a half hour bus journey and make this my last Costa Rican beach stop.

I searched the internet for accommodation I came across a hotel perched on a hill with 180 degree views of the Pacific Ocean and Manuel Antonio national park, free breakfast and THREE swimming pools! Not just ordinary pools but two swim in bar pools (unfortunately not open in the ‘green season’) and one very long curved infinity pool from which were the most amazing views of the sea and storm clouds. More amazingly, I managed to get $75 a night off the already reduced ‘green season’ rates and ended up with a room (probably bigger than the entire living space at my host family’s house) with double glass sliding doors to a private balcony that overlooked the ocean and the national park! Awesome! (La Mriposa is the name if you want to look it up and if you’re ever in Costa Rica I can totally recommend it as a place to stay)

On Sunday, after an amazing free breakfast of fresh fruit, granola and yoghurt, toast and jam and fruit juice, I got the free shuttle bus to the national park. It was beautiful but SO CROWDED. On the 30 minute walk to the main beach, no matter how many groups I passed, I seemed to be always stuck behind some group who were walking slowly and listening intently to their guide. And when I finally made it to the jungle fringed beach it was packed (I like lots of personal space on the beach) with families and couples so I decided to walk up to the lookout and swim when I came back down. I have never sweated so much in all my life, it was so hot and humid that as I walked up the seemingly neverending path I watched sweat bubble out of every pore on my legs. If I had stopped I am sure I would have been standing in a puddle of sweat in no time! On the way back down I calculated how many more hours of unbearable heat and humidity I had to endure before I hit hobart’s winter (and could start complaining about the cold!).

After walking along another beach and appreciating how beautiful it was I decided that I would be better off making the most of the infinity pool back at the hotel. That way I could have a proper salad sandwhich (made with hummus and rye bread) at the organic café down the road and if I really couldn’t stand the heat (when I wasn’t in the pool) I could reitre to my air conditioned room!

A great weekend but Punta Uva is still my favourite beach.

At 7.30am on Monday 19th April I found myself waiting to catch a school bus with my two “homestay sisters”, Diana and Veronica. The school isn’t far from my homestay, in fact it only takes 10 minutes to walk home. Getting to school, however, is another story (you’d have to be a sadist to walk up that hill) so everyone catches the bus – even if it only takes a few minutes. (It looks like I won’t be entering myself in the Miss Universe: Calves category this year!)

The Cloud Forest School (or Centro de Educacion Creativa) sits on the side of a hill and at 1500m above sea level has, on clear days, amazing views over the Peninsula de Nicoya. But there’s a reason it’s called the Cloud Forest School and most afternoons so far have been misty, stormy and/or wet, and with the rainy season starting this pattern is likely to continue.

One of my first tasks at the school was to go into the forest and help the Grade 1/2 students catch centipedes and millipedes. And if centipedes and millipedes can’t be found then apparently it’s ok for 7 and 8 year olds to be catching tarantulas instead! A slightly tamer task I was given was to weed the “arbolitas” which was fine until I came across the black mummy scorpion with hundreds of tiny baby scorpions clinging to her back!

I’ve also helped out with some of the primary school’s environmental classes in the “casa verde”. This can be anything from basket weaving with jungle vines to leaf rubbings to preparing seeds.

I’ve dug new paths through the forest!

Sorting out the library with the other volunteers was a mammoth task and I now understand a librarian’s tetchiness because if I go into that library next week and find a Goosebumps anywhere other than the STI section…

I don’t know what my old favourite beach was, probably somewhere on the east coast of Tasmania where the beaches are beautiful and deserted but the water is very cold! I used to think that the good beaches were the ones with wild surf and a hint of danger. And in Tasmania I guess concentrating on not being dumped by a huge wave kind of took your mind off how cold the water actually was.

My new favourite beach is Punta Uva where the water is warm and the sea is calm and the sand is heated by the Caribbean sun.

I have spent four days in Puerto Viejo and the 6km bike ride to Punta Uva is the daily highlight. This morning I rode through the sleepy town; past the reggae bars pumping out the Bob Marley beat, past the dreadlocked surfers heading for the reef and through the local dogs sniffing out some good breakfast in the bags of rubbish by the side of the road!

Past the lazy sloth lying back having a snooze with his nose in the air. Past the magnificent three story beach house on a jungle covered hill and looking like something Robinson Crusoe would have built (when I’m a multimillionaire that’s my holiday home). Along red hibiscus hedged paths fluttering with butterflies. Past “Sloth Club Cabinas”! Past a family of howler monkeys with one just hanging by his tail – well if you had one you would too! And dodging “doozie” potholes and scurrying lizards.

And finally, after 6km of cycling in the hot Caribbean sun I rode right up to the sand and leant my bike on a palm tree and dived into the crystal clear blue waters of Punta Uva.

How was your day?

Being able to flush toilet paper

Not getting up at 5am to catch a bus
Drinking water straight from the tap
Washing my own clothes in a washing machine
Not having to worry about falling in a big hole in the footpath

Cooking my own dinner
Not having to cover my body in DEET
My own space

Wearing my pyjamas all day
Not having “passport panics”
Not sweating
Lying on a couch
Refridgeration
A firm matress
Not eating rice and beans

We may have crossed the border from Nicaragua to Costa Rica on April 1 but it was no joke. The whole procedure took the best part of five hours and it was hot, really hot. And when it was finally my turn to shove my passport through the hole and I said “Me puede dar noventa dias por favor” the woman didn’t even look at me. I’d read in my guide book that Australians only get 30 days in Costa Rica while everyone else, it seems, gets 90. If I didn’t get a ninety day visa then I would have to leave and return to the country twice – a major hassle (especially if all border crossings take 5 hours).

Closer inspection of my passport revealed that I had the same stamp as everybody else and that the blank space where the officer should have written how many days I was allowed to stay in the country had been left blank, just like everybody else’s. This left me with a big dilemma, should I write ‘90’ in the blank spot? Should I leave it blank, not leave the country and then just plead ignorance when I fly out? Should I do the right thing and leave the country twice? Too much stress for a holiday!

Anyway, that story’s got nothing to do with the title so moving right along… The first stop in Costa Rica was Monterverde and as we started to climb into the hills on the bumpy, pot-holed dirt roads the temperature started to drop, going from stinking hot to mild and pleasant. On the way we stopped to watch (and listen) to some howler monkeys playing in the trees by the side of the road. It was dark and misty by the time we reached our hotel but I could already tell that I was going to like this place – which was good because I’m returning here to volunteer in a school for six weeks.

OK, so I’m still off topic. Costa Rica has a bit of a reputation for adventure sports and I soon found myself being kitted out for zip-lining. Like a flying fox on steroids, this is where you wear a harness and are clipped onto a steel cable and go shooting off across the tree tops. Luckily, being over 60kgs meant that I was able to do the “superman” at the end. This was a 700 metre long line across a valley that you are attached to by two cables on your back leaving your hands free to fly like superman as you reach speeds of up to 60km/h. It was raining and there was a bit of a breeze which meant I got a bit of a sway up as I went across. After getting over the initial terror of what I was doing and making a definite, concentrated effort to relax it was actually quite fun and very beautiful. I even managed a small wave to the group of people on the valley floor some 70 metres below!

I would happily do the “superman” again but the “Tarzan swing” is another story altogether! I could say that climbing up to the platform and the growing sense of dread as I watched all the others jump and listened to their screams as they fell and then swung out into the trees was the worst part of the experience. But it wasn’t. Actually doing it was far worse than thinking about it or watching it! While I was waiting I wondered if I would scream or laugh – something I do on rollercoasters and other adrenaline rides. When it was finally my turn I held onto the rope and stepped forward to the edge. I refused to look down. The safety guys hooked me on and then gave me a shove. I fell. It seemed to go on forever but it was probably only about 10 metres before the rope started to take some of the slack and I began to swing out, across and into the trees on the other side. I didn’t scream or laugh; in fact I didn’t do anything at all. I didn’t breath, I couldn’t focus on anything and I think, maybe, that my heart stopped too!

When I was finally caught and lowered to the ground I was shaking all over and my fingers tingled. I can now cross “Tarzan swing” off my list and I never have to do it again. I don’t think I’ll bungee jump either! (And, Abigail I’m glad that sky diving thing never eventuated!)

The next day we moved on to La Fortuna and more adventures. First was canyoning. I was looking forward to this, swimming down rivers and sliding down little water falls seemed like fun. Call me naïve but it hadn’t entirely registered with me that we would be rappelling down waterfalls! The longest rappel was 70 metres, maybe my senses had been dulled by the “Tarzan swing” but it wasn’t scary at all, just heaps of fun and beautiful scenery! Gordon Dam here I come!

The next day saw us white water rafting the class 3-4 rapids of the Rio Toro. Again the day was hot and it was a relief to get into the rafts and start splashing about. We practised some of the commands “Lean in”, “High side left” and, the most important “get down”. It didn’t take long for me to get quite good at “get down” but getting back up was another matter!

It was a lovely day on the river, we passed a few little waterfalls, butterflies flittered past and in some places the jungle hung directly into the water. The rapids were fun and no one from our boat fell in. The water was a little low and we did tend to get stuck on the rocks which meant that our jungle boy rafting guide had to jump in and try to push/pull us back into the clear water. At one point we got stuck on a rock mid rapid and our guide instructed us to “get down”. I found myself wedged in the bottom of the raft and as our guide started to manipulate us off the rock, the front of the raft lifted higher and higher. So high that I was looking straight into the tree tops with no effort at all. And as everyone held on and shouted instructions I watched the monkeys playing! Ah, Costa Rica…

PS. I emailed to Costa Rican consulate in Canberra and Australians can stay for 90 days. Yay!