This is part of 8 posts where I will, with minor edits and omissions, put my journal from days in Costa Rica online. There is no real grammar structure, but hopefully it makes sense...
10/25/2009 Sunday
In many respects this was a Sunday unlike any other in my life. I woke up well rested but extremely parched around 9am. It took me a while to mobilize, but I was eager to familiarize myself with my new surroundings. I walked into town and had to laugh. I expected to see something along the lines of at least Playa del Carmen south of Cancun after all I had read. Indeed, most of the business in town is built around tourism, but unless there are major changes (hopefully not) this area won't be a new Mayan Riviera for at least 75 years. I would guess this is what corners of Florida looked like around 1900 - minus the cars, scooters, electricity... very few businesses were open. I bought a 600ml water bottle from a stand at Playa Negra for 500 colones. After walking Playa Negra and being somewhat disappointed in the scenery (aside from the intrigue of sand that resembled crushed coal) I decided to walk to Salsa Brava and watch some surfers. No surfers. It dawned on me that most of the town was probably just going to bed, based on the scene at 9pm last night. Oh well, at least I had my bearings. I had planned on being out most of the day but instead was back to the hotel within an hour. A little confused about the lack of picturesque beaches, I re-read my guide books and finally read that the real gems of the coast were a few km south of town and got more interesting as you approach Panama. I headed back to town and rented a bike with the goal of scouting the beaches and ultimately riding home for dinner. Bikes are the standard means of transport in this town. My specific bike today was probably made before I was born... a green fixie (pedal backwards = brakes though) with mushy tires. $5 for the day. Content with looking slightly less a tourist, I road the "paved" road towards Manzanillo. Beyond the fringe of Puerto Viejo, the jungle is impressive and the Cabinas become more impressive. It seems the wealthy ex-pats live this way... I pass a sign selling 49 acres of land including beach for $150k and have to stop myself from immediately turning on my phone. After about 10 minutes I pass a wooden sign with "Cocles" carved in it. The road veered towards the beach and revealed paradise. Clean sand (there was trash on the beaches in PV, although all the recycle / trash stations with encouraging signs that clean beaches are better seemed to indicate progress on that front), waves big enough to possibly surf, clear water, tall palms for shade. This was what I had seen from the plane yesterday and longed for. I locked my bike to a tree and walked toward the water. I dropped my backpack and tested it out... the water was colder than Tulum, Mx but still quite warm. I walked back to my towel, applied excessive sunscreen and lad down to just listen to the lapping of the waves for a while. After 30 minutes I was roasting and decided it was safe to leave my things and enjoy Caribbean swimming. I took my rightful spot directly in front of my towel and began bobbing in the break. I noticed the two girls within earshot of me had American accents and spoke English. I asked if they had been to Manzanillo, hoping to find out if the beaches were in fact more impressive further south. Although they hadn't, we did end up chatting for a while. They had just moved from Jacksonville, FL after graduating from UT Knoxville, to Manuel Antonio on the Pacific coast. Very nice, welcoming, well traveled girls. At 1:30 they asked if I knew what time it was. I opened my zippered pocket to grab my watch right as a wave hit me. I immediately remembered my bike lock keys had been in that pocket, and of course no longer were. A few minutes of searching produced no results. Whitney and Rachel felt bad, so I borrowed a bike while they shared their second. I felt bad but the rental guy said it was no problem, and a few minutes later I jumped on the back of a scooter with a guy owning chain cutters.
[Sidenote: explaining "lifeguard" to a man that doesn't speak English is tough. Ex:
I lost my bike keys.Where?Playa Cocles, in the ocean.Where is the bike?On a tree near the... the man that watches those that swim.- blank stare -When a person looks at swimmers, when it's dangerous, from above.Oh, near that man?Yes, on a tree near the man.
]
Potholes require good ab strength and balance while riding a Vespa on a gravel road. Minutes later I was back at the bike shop. $4 for a new lock. Pura vida. The girls had showered and got their bags to catch the 4pm bus to San Jose, then Manuel Antonio. We ate lunch at my first soda. An enormous amount of rice and beans topped with ~10 oz. of fried chicken. Clearly lunch is the biggest meal of the day. Food for a whole day plus juice and tip for $7. Not bad. After lunch we rode to my room so they could change out of wet clothes, borrow some Aloe Vera (we all got burned), exchange emails, and invite me to Quepos for a surfing contest on Halloween. I've already paid for my hotel in Santa Teresa then but may take them up on it. I'm not sure if I could get to SJO on time for my flight, so it's not likely, but a good option anyways. I wish I were less worried about making plans in advance. I read a lot about Manuel Antonio and it sounds fun. Either way, they caught the bus and I headed south again. I rode as far as I could before needing to turn around to return my bike. I stopped at the beach near Punta Uva. There was 1 other person swimming about 1/4 mile from me, but otherwise not a soul. I have no idea how/why Christopher Columbus kept going after he landed there, but I believe it looks about the same now as it did then. Incredible. I saw my first wild monkey there too. (I have heard several howler monkeys but not seen one.) By the time I had my camera out he was two trees away. A really awesome experience. So much character/personality in his face. A that point I decided to change plans and spend tomorrow night in Manzanillo with the monkeys, sloths and macaws.
After returning the bike, I decided to have a beer and dessert (still mostly full from lunch). Rest. de Paso, right across the street from my place and on the path to the beach, was a good choice. The dulce de leche crepe was a huge success. Reggae bumping from the speakers... a good end to my day. They sold bulk mate but don't serve it. Bummer since I didn't bring any. The Che poster at the bar made me want some. I settled for reading Compañero on my hammock instead. I met my Colombian neighbor then. She has a good story; in the fair trade coffee business, travels a lot... going to Seattle in February to work and learn English, then off to England to sell fair trade coffee there too. Very cool. Based on my encounter with her and her friends, I believe Colombian women could take over the planet if they organized and chose to do so... they would be supermodels in the States. I am meeting many diverse and wonderful people so far. Feliz noches.
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