Costa Rica Vacation Journals

Day 8: By Land, by Air, and by Sea

2009-04-08T08:58:00.003-06:00

Jesse’s yoga and surf lessons – not to mention the balancing band attached to two palm trees – tend to attract quite a crowd at the southern end of the beach. This morning’s yoga class was to be instructed by a yogi/personal trainer named Rebecca, atop a platform directly on the beach. She began the class with a mind exercise originally invented by a dancer: “Sodoku for the body – but on steroids,” she described it. It involved syncing head, arm, and leg movements while tossing a ball. Suffice it to say that we all struggled with this first thing in the morning, but at least it got us laughing.

The first half of the class didn’t feel like yoga. It was spent performing killer crunches and deep, concentrated repetitions based on the theme of the day: hips and shoulders. It was a challenging workout focusing on balance, coordination, and mental fluidity. The second half of class centered upon hip-opener poses with sun salutations. Meanwhile, amateur acrobats walking the rubber balance band entertained us, along with Rebecca’s fully functioning three-legged dog (that was able to dig and play just as effortlessly as its four-legged canine friends).

Sweetly sore, I changed out of my exercise outfit and into my swimsuit for a surf lesson. Having surfed a few times in Santa Teresa, I breezed right through the basics. My teacher decided to show me some tricks. He defied the laws of physics, effortlessly doing headstands on his board. My trick was much less complicated: rotate my feet and body, which begin facing land, 180 degrees until they face the ocean.

I conquered this on my first try, and moved on to the second trick: the foot switch. After catching a wave, I was to jump change my lead foot, and be suspended in the air for a split second while my feet exchanged places. After countless belly flops and nosedives, I was too tired to go on. The lesson was over, and I walked a block north to Jesse’s next-door neighbor, Samara’s canopy tour.

Here I met Debra and Manu, the canopy's original owner and engineer. This environmentally friendly canopy trek has been around for 13 years, with 12 platforms up to 65 feet high, and ten cables stretching up to 400 feet long. Today our group was fairly small, consisting of Vincent, me, and three others. We walked through the woods for a few minutes until we reached the swinging bridge that would lead us to the first platform.

Here, Manu explained that Samara’s canopy tour is not harmful to the dry tropical forest. Nothing is bolted or nailed to the trees, as all platforms are hanging from or strapped to branches. The cables are kept in place by tension, wound tightly around moveable girdles that press firmly against the tree without harming it. The activity is safe and family oriented; according to Manu, three year old children have gone alone, infants as young as 8 months old have piggybacked with their parents, and adults well into their eighties have zipped along the cables solo.

The first few lines were short, great for acclimating the group into the exhilarating sensation of whizzing through the air. After the third cable, we spotted a coati. Manu told us about other animals he has seen out there, including kinkajous, iguanas, monkeys, and even elusive jagaurundis. At the fifth platform we stopped to snack on watermelon, pineapple, and organic cookies, chatting as we overlooked an incredible view of Playa Samara.

Continuing on, Manu pointed out various species of trees along the way. The spiky lagartillo tree is great for a toothache; chewing the spikes numbs the teeth. The great Tempisque is green year-round, and the Panama sheds its leaves four times per year. We passed by my favorite, the colossal Guanacaste with its beautiful leaves and seedpod ears.

On the last platform, we spotted a family of noisy howler monkeys. After snapping some photos, we rappelled down to the ground. This was accomplished by literally free-falling down, with Manu controlling our speeds. He teased me when it was my turn, dropping me as fast as gravity would allow, then slowing my descent.

After such a busy and fulfilling day, I could not wait to shower, turn on the air conditioning, and fall into bed at the Samara Beach Hotel. My body felt wonderful from all of the activity, and my mind had so many memories to process from such an eventful trip.

Day 7: Flying Crocodiles

2009-04-07T23:47:00.003-06:00

My heart began beating out of my chest the moment I set eyes on the landing strip. What was I thinking, wanting to fly so badly! Today, I would overcome my fear of heights. But first, I would forget my anxieties for a ground tour of the Flying Crocodile Lodge.

The lodge is tranquil and gorgeous, about a mile away from the secluded Playa Buena Vista. It consists of a number of private cabins, many with artsy blue-tiled bathrooms. A playground, a pool, and the Ultra-Light Flying Center are some of the lodge’s main draws. As I exited one of the double occupancy rooms, our German-born pilot, Frank Nierhoff, was waiting to take me to the aircraft.

Of the eight ultra-light planes in the hanger, we would be flying in the giro – short for autogiro – a vehicle with a propeller and freely rotating vanes, or rotors. This flying machine is somewhat similar in appearance to a helicopter – except that rather than having powered vanes, the propellers of a giro rotate in the wind’s slipstream.

Capable of flying 40-120 miles per hour, and up to 5000 feet in altitude, the aircraft easily glides through the sky. It has an 18-gallon tank that burns about three to four gallons an hour, meaning that the machine can fly four consecutive hours without needing a refill. It can easily traverse the entire country of Costa Rica from Panama to Nicaragua on one uninterrupted flight.

Frank set me in the plane, and we prepared for takeoff. The engine needs about five minutes to warm up, so we chatted through the headphones connected to our helmets. He explained how a commercial plane could not fly in these winds, because it would undergo unbearable turbulence. The aerodynamics and size of the autogiro make it less affected by such currents. He also told me not to touch anything. There was what appeared to be a gear shifter in between my legs, and I shouldn’t worry if it shook around during the flight. “Also, see that red button right next to your hand, there?” Frank advised, “That turns off the engine. Best not to touch that.”

Moments later, we were ready for take off. Speeding past the hotel, the landing strip was suddenly far below us, as was the rest of the world. Cows and horses and goats became nothing but little dark specs on an endless landscape. I was able to see the geography of the Buena Vista River, and the river mouth where it empties into the ocean. Homes and buildings began to resemble monopoly houses as we rose higher and higher and my heartbeat raced faster and faster.

I have never in my life seen so much water. Frank made a loop past some rice fields, around the river, and along the beach. I had no idea how beautiful this country’s topography is, having previously only seen it in photographs. I had a nervous – but genuine –smile permanently pasted upon my face the entire flight. At one point, Pilot Frank lowered so closely to the water that I could almost touch the tallest wave. We rose again above the cliffs near Playa Barrigona, famous for its beauty – and also because Mel Gibson owns a house there. Here, above the rock face, the ride got bumpy and I began to wish that we were safely on the ground. Luckily, my fears melted away once we were through that choppy zone, and within minutes I was once again enjoying the flight.

Before I knew it, we were coming in for a smooth landing and the experience was over. It was Vincent’s turn for a ride, and to take some photographs. After feeling those powerful winds, I was relieved I was not asked to bear responsibility for the professional camera. Before my adrenaline rush had even begun to wear off, Vincent was back with disheveled hair. We thanked everyone at the Flying Crocodile for such a wonderful experience, and started out for Samara.

It took about 30 minutes to reach the Samara Beach Hotel, right in the center of town and just a few blocks from the beach. We checked in, and were greeted by warm and friendly staff. My room was spacious and comfortable, with a balcony and view of the pool; while I knew I wouldn’t have time to use it during these last few busy days, it was nice to know that it was there.

As it was only midday, there was still time to relax at Playa Carrillo’s palm fringed shores. One of the most beautiful places in the country, Carrillo may also be one of the only beaches to strictly follow Costa Rica’s building and zoning laws. The water was pristine, refreshing, and teeming with living sand dollars just beneath the surface of the sand. Numerous groups of friends and families were enjoying their Sunday in Carrillo’s cool shade and mild surf. The waves were gently lapping and displayed varying shades of green, turquoise, blue, and sapphire. To this sound, I closed my eyes and breathed, thinking about nothing.

Day 6: Baby Turtle Hatchlings at Camaronal

2009-04-06T17:24:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, a local surfer told me that he and his buddies spotted baby marine turtles waddling into the surf at Playa Camaronal around 7:30 a.m. Supposedly when one batch of hatchlings is born, others follow suit for the next seven days at about the same time of day. Vincent and I wanted to see this miracle happen in front of our own eyes, and were determined to spend the morning hunting baby sea turtles – for photographic purposes only, of course.

Playa Camaronal is a part of the Camaronal National Wildlife Refuge, just three miles south of Carrillo and seven and a half miles from Playa Samara. We arrived at the beach at about 7:15 a.m. Cell phone reception was wonderful, so we decided to divide and conquer, splitting up in order to cover more ground. I walked to the right and he to the left; if one of us spotted a newborn we would call the other on the telephone. Scouring the ground, I scrutinized every section of sand in the hopes of stumbling across a nest.

Unfortunately, I saw nothing but seeds and sea brush on land, and fisherman and surfers in the ocean. A large black mass in the water kept changing shape; it looked like a monster trawling the ocean floor, but turned out to be an enormously dark school of fish. Anglers waited patiently for delicacies such as snapper, sea bass, and yellow tail. Meanwhile, only the most adept surfers enjoyed Camaronal’s exceptionally intimidating waves, which are known to reach up to 20 feet. I tried not to let their hypnotizing tricks distract me from my original purpose: finding baby sea turtles.

Since these young reptiles are a vulture’s favorite snack, I followed these birds hoping they would lead me to the jackpot. Instead they led me to a dead manta ray’s carcass and some felled logs.
After about an hour, I noticed a park ranger cleaning up a section of the beach. He explained that the area, declared protected in 1994, is vital to the preservation of the great sea turtle. Of the seven species of marine turtles that exist in the world, four of them frequent Carmaronal’s shores: the Olive Ridley (Lepidochelys olivacea), the Atlantic leatherback (Dermochelys coriacea), the hawksbill (Eretmochelys imbricata), and the black (Chelonia midas agassizii) turtles. In Spanish, they are known as the lora, baula, carey, and negra – and all are in danger of extinction.

Encompassing an enormous amount of space (39,537 marine acres and 600 land acres), Camaronal provides a vast breeding ground for these creatures. Between December and May, an average of five expectant mothers come to shore each night to drop roughly 105 eggs resembling slimy ping-pong balls. This is nothing in comparison to the high season, when that number spikes to an average of 30 pregnant mothers per night. It is not uncommon for researchers to document as many as 120 new nests in a single evening during the months of June to November.

Scientists transfer many of these burrows to their fenced-in hatchery, where the embryos can develop undisturbed and under study. Here Vincent and I stared at the nests, willing them with our minds to begin shaking with life – but none of them stirred. By this point the weather was becoming unbearably hot. The ranger told me that if the eggs were to hatch at this hour they would basically fry sunny side up. We returned to the car, cursing our bad luck.

We headed back to El Sueno Tropical, where we took advantage of their wireless Internet to check our email. After an evening dip in the pools, their restaurant again did not disappoint. We feasted on pizza, pasta, and a phenomenal side of salted vegetables.

Day 5: It's All Happening at the Zoo

2009-04-05T16:55:00.001-06:00

This morning I awoke with wonderfully sore abs from yesterday’s yoga class. Driving to Samara, I realized that it was not a good idea to eat a breakfast burrito before tackling the bumpy (but scenic) long road south. About an hour after departing Nosara, we were in front of the surf school. The owner, Jesse, informed us that the waves were too calm for a surfing lesson. We re-scheduled and went to check into our hotel in Playa Carrillo.

Carrillo is four miles from Samara, and El Sueno Tropical is a few miles farther. Poolside, Vincent and I ate a delicious lunch of yellowtail tuna with salted vegetables and French fries. We took a few moments to regroup, escaping from the hot sun in our modern, air-conditioned rooms. Our next stop would be the La Selva Wildlife Refuge, a zoo that rehabilitates wounded animals for reintroduction into the wild. A woman with an adorable baby monkey clinging to her shoulder greeted us at the gate, and a friendly peccary pleaded with us for some petting. A black puppy and a dog that looked like its mother played quietly, watched by a green parrot up above. All the creatures were roaming free in the reception area: it was an animal lover's dream.

The zookeeper explained that sunset was the perfect time to come and view the animals. Eolo, the 8-month old howler monkey, had been abandoned by his family. This happens often to young males who pose a potential reproductive threat to the adults. I patted his fur, surprised at how much softer it was than I had expected. As he playfully bit my finger, I noted that his hands looked remarkably human – right down to the fingernails. All of his movements were childlike; take away his tail and fuzzy body and he would have looked remarkably like a human infant.

Making our way into the actual refuge, I was stopped in my tracks by a beautiful margay. Roughly three times the size of the average house cat, it had leopard-print skin and a long, elegant tail. The poised feline looked at us calmly with its brown-marble eyes. Its small size corresponds with an undersized pelt, a characteristic that has rescued the animal for years from human predation. Nocturnal and arboreal by nature, a typical margay lives most if not all of its life up in the treetops. Much of their natural habitat has been sequestered for banana plantations, leaving the cats largely confined to Costa Rica’s protected areas and national parks, particularly Corcovado.

A jaguarundi hissed menacingly as we walked by, exposing its sharp teeth. It had a dark brown body, somewhat stubby ears, and a pointed head. At 14 pounds the creature was smaller than I had expected – but nevertheless I got the feeling it could have easily ripped me to shreds had it wanted. Luckily, jagaurundis tend to seek out smaller meals. These stealthy felines are extremely elusive and rarely seen in the wild, so it was amazing to see one outside of a photograph.

False vampire bats the size of my forearm had pig-like noses, and began shaking uncontrollably as I approached. We worked our way past multiple cages, admiring a Mexican hairy porcupine, a collared aracari, a rainbow-billed toucan, anteaters, an armadillo, an American alligator, and a kinkajou.

On our way out, the zookeeper also asked if we would like to make a donation. The refuge is not government funded, and all monetary support comes from visitors’ contributions. With 36 different species to support, the refuge struggles to provide vaccines and food for inhabitants.

Day 4: Quad Tour and the Black Sheep Pub

2009-04-04T19:16:00.006-06:00

We met Gunter, a German turned Costa Rican citizen, at the Gilded Iguana Bar and Restaurant at 9:00 a.m. for our ATV adventure. I have to admit, I was disappointed to discover that he only had two ATV's, meaning I would ride on the back of his as a passenger. Luckily, after 15 minutes, Vincent couldn’t handle the overwhelming dust in his eyes, and handed me the keys to his vehicle.

I had lost my sunglasses the previous day, and following the guide’s four-wheeler meant squinting and literally eating his dust. Fortunately, the adventure was so much fun that the discomfort was barely noticeable. Our quads breezed through trickling rivers and rough back roads- over Nosara's hanging bridge, and then up to the town of Pilas Blancas and its one-room schoolhouse.

Schoolchildren heard us approach and exited the building to put on a circus act. They tried hard to entertain the foreigners, prancing about and performing silly tricks. The path Gunter wanted us to take was blocked, so we were forced to go back the way we had come. A short time later we encountered some howler monkeys, and I found out what a funny guy Gunter is. “Look at how beautiful that monkey is,” I said. “Look at those big white balls!” he contrasted in his thick German accent.

To finish off the tour, Gunter took us to his favorite pub called the Black Sheep. While technically a members-only club, becoming an affiliate is as easy as making a phone call. Two friendly Americans run the operation more or less out of their private home: Joe and Helena. Albeit more European than Costa Rican, this “extension of the living room,” was an incredible place.

During a trip to Europe this past fall, I had tasted a sweet, carbonated beer called a raspberry Hoegaarden in Ghent, Belgium. I had difficulty finding it in neighboring countries such as Holland. To my surprise, there it was at the Black Sheep: icy cold and waiting for me. I vowed to return with my beer enthusiast friends.

On the way home I stopped at the Frog Pad Internet Cafe. Here, I spent my lunch break rifling through their collection of used books in English. The DVD stacks were for rent only, and even more impressive in size and scope – including brand new releases and shows like Lost, Californication, and Dexter. Luckily, I didn’t have to drag my selections very far – our hotel, Villas Tortuga, was right next door. Their guest rooms were homey with an original décor, my favorite accent being the indoor surfboard rack. I took a steamy hot shower and prepared for Anasura yoga at 3:00 p.m.

I have never tried this style of practice before, and was looking forward to it immensely. Jane Fryer, the same teacher I had the other night, taught the class. Thankfully, this class was not to rejuvenate, but to work. There were not as many flowing sun salutation sequences or repetitions as in Vinyasa or Ashtanga types.

Nonetheless, we found ourselves sweating just as much if not more. Jane was lighthearted with an entertaining sense of humor, and toward the end she allowed us a few moments to choose any poses our bodies might be craving. I chose a handstand, and she gave me a few helpful tips on how to perform the inversion.

After yoga and a quick shower, we stopped by the Casa Luz store to check out their jewelry show. I loved the beautiful gold pieces created by one of the local artists. She used only the finest materials, including a variety of gemstones, pearls, and seashells. We browsed her graceful pieces and then went to have some dinner.

Next door, Jungle Joe’s band The Medicine Show was just beginning to warm up. Specializing in rock n’ roll covers by the Rolling Stones, the Grateful Dead, Cream, and even Sublime, The Medicine Show put on a fantastic performance and drew a large crowd. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and within minutes they had the entire restaurant’s undivided attention. As we listened to hits like “White Room” and “On the Cover of the Rolling Stone,” it became obvious that each and every member of the group lived to be on stage – intoxicated by the joy and excitement from the crowd. Upon my request, Joe played Sublime’s “What I got,” after which I returned to our hotel to get some sleep.

Day 3: Jungle Joe, a Tica Massage, and Acupunture

2009-04-03T19:14:00.006-06:00

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, it took a few moments to remember that I was not in my bed in Liberia, but in a comfortable bed at Villas Tortuga. Remembering what was on the agenda for today, I jumped out of bed and was out the door in 15 minutes flat. In my haste, I had put on a pair of white shorts – brilliant attire for a wet day on a boat.

First on the list was a kayak tour up the Montana River. We were to meet our guide, Jungle Joe, at a bar/restaurant called the Gilded Iguana. Joe could be a comedian, and he had me nearly rolling on the floor laughing before we even left the parking lot. For the third time in three days, Vincent and I returned to La Boca, near the Nosara Biological Reserve. Unloading the boats, Joe pointed out smooth red pebbles that were different than the other rocks on the dark beach.

He informed us that they weren’t stones at all, but pre-Columbian artifacts more than 14,000 years old. These were shards of pottery from ancient tribes, perhaps the Chorotega, who used to inhabit this shore. Mother earth provided them with ample fish from the sea, limitless freshwater from the rivers, and cool jungle for shade. I had never knowingly handled a relic that old; it felt mysterious and powerful.

Jungle Joe eased us out into the river, warning us to keep our noses lined up with the tip of the kayak to avoid capsizing. The rivers host a slew of animals including crocodiles, monkeys, snapper fish, and a variety of birds. A flock of vultures circled as we departed upriver. I saw a log that looked like a hippopotamus. We passed a silent pontoon boat belonging to one of Joe’s friends, full of tourists. For comic affect, Joe yelled: “Hey, Buddy! Your probation officer called. Are you in some kind of trouble again? I think you’ve violated your parole.”

With smiles on our faces, we continued paddling. Our guide shared interesting facts along the way, while pointing out snowy egrets, and white egrets, mahoe flowers, and trogons. The mangrove trees that these creatures were perched upon can metabolize salt water. They also have no rings to distinguish their age, because the species grows year-round with no dormant season.

Finally, we reached our destination: the black sand Playa Nosara. Barefoot, we walked along the shore. Vincent laughed as I skipped around like a Mexican jumping bean on the red-hot sand to which he was completely unaffected. I told him that he must have hooves for feet to not feel the burn. Joe pointed out nests of disintegrating turtle eggs before returning to the boat, where an enormous tiger heron soared a few feet above the water. Once it landed, we paused to watch it feed. The heron was so motionless that we might have thought time had frozen still had it not been for the bright yellow butterflies dancing along the water.

On our way back to the river mouth, we came across another majestic bird, a common black hawk. The predator was creepy, and showed no fear of humans. It could have easily gauged my eyes out had it wanted, and by the looks of it all it needed was the chance. I was relieved when it flew off. Farther down the river we saw a beautiful blue Louisiana heron, and a group of snowy herons.

Next stop: the massage house at Playa Guiones. Ironically, the best massages in town are also the cheapest. The salon was built to give guests a true Costa Rican experience, while maintaining a socially responsible establishment that helps Nosara’s economy. All the female therapists are Costa Rican, or Tica, and also company partners. The typical rancho-style architecture is gorgeous, with high ceilings and cool rooms. Entrepreneur Richard Jordan explained that the salon doesn’t spare any expenses.

The massage was one of the best I have ever had. It began with a hot towel soaked in rosemary placed on my back. Then, the masseuse began to work her magic. All muscles that she touched simply melted. I can’t describe her techniques very well, because at this point my memory gets a bit fuzzy. I drifted into a semi-dream state, as she applied perfect pressure, working my back, shoulders, and legs. Every now and then she chanted something soothing under her breath that I couldn’t understand. It was the fastest hour of my life, and at the end she misted my face with cool water and silently left the room. Even though I speak Spanish, she hadn’t said a single word to me the entire hour. Normally this would feel strange, but I was so relaxed I didn’t have a care in the world.

As if the day weren’t soothing enough, I had a 1:00 acupuncture appointment, also in the town of Guiones. Zachari was one of the most caring therapists that I have visited concerning my back problems. Extremely knowledgeable when it comes to Chinese medicine, I had no qualms about letting him poke me with needles. He noted that my psoas, “literally and physically the deepest muscle in the body,” might very well be the culprit causing lower back pain. My ailment is not uncommon, Zachari said; stress and negativity tend to build up and fossilize in the psoas muscle, bringing pain and stiffness. “It is more or less the emotional garbage can of the human condition,” he stated with a laugh.

His treatment called for a distal, or far away from the area of discomfort, placement of the needles. Also recommended was a trial diet to see if I have any food allergies. I would have to cut out wheat, dairy, and processed sugar for two weeks and slowly reintegrate them into my diet, assessing my health along the way.

Vowing to attempt this experiment was easy; actually following through will be onerous if not impossible. He placed the needles, which did not feel sharp upon insertion. I felt a dull ache at the entry points, and a general floaty sensation after about 15 minutes. Zachari placed a mustard seed button attached to a sticker on the inside of my outer ear, in a space that directly corresponds with my lower lumbar.

On the way out, he patiently answered two of my questions about acupuncture.
1) Does the energy in the body go around the needles, like water around a metal pipe in its path? No, it is more like an electrical current that conducts the energy, helping to pull it along its natural path.
2) Do body piercing (lip, eye, nose, belly) effect how the energy runs through your body? Nobody really knows, and it might depend on where on the body the piercing is located. One of his teachers said yes, others said no.

Day 2: Nosara Biological Reserve and a Day at the Spa

2009-04-02T18:03:00.012-06:00

I awoke just after 6:30 a.m. A delicious breakfast of ripe fruit, toast, coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice was waiting for me by the pool at Lodge Vista del Mar. Around 7:30 a.m., Vincent and I arrived at Playa Guiones to watch the surfers do their thing. Gale walked by, surfboard tucked under his arm. White crabs, as opposed to the more typical red ones, scurried beneath our feet. After about an hour of beach combing, it was time for a hike.

We returned to Lagarta Lodge, the entrance to the Nosara Biological Reserve, where we had witnessed such a spectacular sunset the previous evening. Descending the steep staircase from the hotel was tough, but thankfully there were handrails to guide wary hikers.

Vincent spotted two trogons, beautiful black birds with bright yellow bellies and sky blue rings around their eyes. Less than 30 feet from the top of the cliff, a family of howler monkeys studied human passersby. There were a disproportionate number of baby monkeys to adults, making me think for a moment that this must be some sort of monkey day care.

We had six interconnected paths to choose from, including a walk by the river mouth, where the rivers of Nosara and Montana converge and empty into the Pacific Ocean. Since I tend to scare away wildlife with my clumsy walking habits, I resolved to sacrifice my own viewing pleasure for the sake of Vincent snapping some decent pictures of our journeys. We separated; I took a side-trip to the river opening, and he began to explore the dense trails.

A small flock of long-legged white herons greeted me. Colorful stones littered the black sand beach, which was all but deserted. Then I backtracked to the staircase, continued over a bog walk, and hiked for about an hour more.

Of the 270 species of bird in the park, I heard more of them than I was able to see. Every half mile I was treated to a new singsong call, and a trail marker posted on a tree. These signs corresponded to a key on the map I had received at the hotel’s reception area, identifying the tree species as well as location in relation to the rest of the reserve. I passed by silk cotton, spiky pochote, big belly, corkwood, matapalo, pealing bark, and grape trees.

Farther along the path, I was treated to the sight of hundreds of fluffy pods filled with my all time favorite seeds from the mighty Guanacaste tree. Up to 12 are contained in capsules called orejas, or ears, so named because of their elliptical, ear-like appearance. I like to carry a few of these seeds on my person at all times to calm and remind me of the earth. For me, rubbing the kernels between my thumb and fingers relieves tension better than Chinese stress balls.

Looking forward to a 4:30 p.m. massage and 5:30 p.m. yoga session, I skipped back to the car. After a lunch of a fish sandwich – and probably the best coleslaw in Central America – at Marlin Bill’s Restaurant, we drove over to Harmony Hotel. There I was introduced to Janet Montiel, my Costa Rican masseuse. Janet is an expert in re-balancing bodywork: a combination of deep tissue, joint release, rocking, and unwinding techniques.

The massage was more or less standard, except that Janet had a few surprise methods that I had not experienced before. She started with light pressure along my back. Playing with rhythms, she began to warm up. My shoulder blade became a paddle ball bouncing between Janet’s fingers. Then, she rubbed my forearms so that my fingers uncontrollably clenched and curled according to her whim, like a puppet. After a while, her hands began to feel hot to the touch. My muscles were so tight that the sensations often turned to tickles and I laughed. Toward the end, she rolled my feet back and forth rapidly in her hands.

Afterward, I was fashionably late to ‘restorative yoga', which I found to be significantly slower than my normal style. Expecting taxing stretches and calming balancing sequences, I found the poses were designed to relax and to reintegrate – which meant that they require a great deal of patience and tranquility. This session would be great for those who are looking to unwind and rehabilitate rather than to exercise; but it wasn't quite for me. I like my yoga upbeat, sweaty, and above all challenging.

Following the session, I thanked Tammy for her kindness and services. She showed me her meditation garden, grown on the property, which is used to formulate all of the spa’s body treatments from scratch. Even their nail polish is natural and water based: “if a small child swallowed it, he/she would be just fine,” she informed me. (CostaRica.com does not advocate the feeding of nail polish to children).

My favorite treatment on their menu is ear candling, an ancient Egyptian practice to cleanse the inner ear. A cone-shaped hollow candle is placed inside the ear canal and lit. The smoke swirls around inside, creating suction that extracts wax and debris. It works.

As we were wrapping things up, I noticed ‘man-scaping’ instead of ‘landscaping’ treatments on the healing center’s list of services. I laughed at the cleverness. On that note, Vincent and I said ‘happy Saint Patrick’s Day’ and went back to the hotel.

Day 1: A Nosara Sunset

2009-04-01T17:12:00.006-06:00

The day began with a friendly game of what I like to call, “how-many- people-can-we-cram-onto-a-60-passenger-bus?” Today, the answer was about 100. This is the Costa Rican public transportation system’s favorite game, and the reason why I always arrive at the station early. People were wedged into the aisle like sardines, all but hanging out windows and sitting on strangers’ laps. To my amazement, everyone was in a surprisingly good mood considering the complete absence of personal space.

Not all public vehicles are like this – but every Liberia-Nicoya bus I have ever traveled on has been. It is best for early birds to claim a window place, even for claustrophobes who swear by the aisle. Waking up from a nap to find a complete stranger’s rear end 1/8 of an inch away from your face, I promise you’ll wish you had the protection and breeze afforded by an inside-seat. After paying two dollars for a two-hour ride to Nicoya, I wasn’t really entitled to complain; so I smiled and and tried not to think about it.

Our photographer,Vincent picked me up at Super Compro, a grocery store across the street from the Liberia bus stop. Shortly outside of town we passed through a ‘cow jam’ (a traffic jam in which cows instead of cars block the road), and I reached for my camera. Upon pressing the ‘on’ button, the machine sputtered and died. I felt extremely sad – not for the loss of my camera, but for all of the photos I would not be able to take this week.

We traveled about 1.5 hours west along the scenic and bumpy road toward Nosara. The glimmering ocean suddenly appeared signaling our arrival. The town is made up of 3 beaches: Playa Guiones, Playa Pelada, and Playa Nosara. Just north of Playa Nosara sits Playa Ostional, famous for attracting droves of nesting Olive Ridley sea turtles. Almost all bars, restaurants and other establishments are located on side roads off the main drag, making Nosara appear much smaller and less lively than it actually is.

We ascended a large hill to our destination, Lodge Vista del Mar. True to its name, the hotel offered a spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean. Owner, Gale greeted us with helpful advice and recommendations on local restaurants and points of interest. He took us on a tour, and we chatted in front of his 25-yard swimming pool.

I asked about the stately, beachside structure in the distance. Gale explained that someone had illegally built a Gaudi-like hotel within the 565-foot ‘no build’ zone from the coast. The building, which looked like an enormous indigenous statue, was essentially worthless.

Vincent and I decided to venture down for a better look. We drove to Playa Guiones’ northernmost point, only to find that the abandoned building was even stranger the closer we got. It was somehow at the same time oddly attractive, like something straight out of Smurf-land.

Next, we explored the neighboring beach of Playa Pelada. This literally translates to “peeled beach,” meaning devoid or bare. Relatively deserted and more fitting for swimming than surfing, Pelada’s picturesque bay was nothing short of idyllic. Waves exploded out of a blowhole on the south end, and the sun sparkled on the water in a way that seemed surreal.

I found a coveted ‘hamburger seed’ (ojo de wey), which are perfect for making jewelry and key chains. After jumping for joy, I landed upon a sharp nub from the spiky cedar tree. Limping back to the car, I agreed with Vincent that our next stop should be Lagarta Lodge, where we could supposedly find Nosara’s most stunning panorama.

The lodge owns the 90-acre Nosara Biological Reserve, home to over 270 species of birds, including motmots, herons, manakins, waders, and toucans. Coatimundis, monkeys, raccoons, armadillos, snakes, and anteaters are not uncommon in this wilderness. At the entrance, I picked up a brochure by the Nosara Wildlife Refuge and SIBU Sanctuary. They rescue all local animals in need, but specialize in the howler monkey.I was shocked to discover that the most imminent danger to this species is the mass of improperly insulated power lines, which monkeys often use as ladders and playthings. Upon swinging, the animals are electrocuted, or maimed beyond recognition. I was immediately moved to donate to this worthy cause.

We walked from the parking lot to a 130-foot balcony draping over the edge of a cliff, where we sat in stunned silence. The two rivers of Nosara and Montana intertwine in the shape of a twisted “U.” Paralleling this was the Pacific Ocean and miles of deserted black-sand beach. Just beyond, Playa Ostional stretched out into mist. You could almost taste the freshwater meeting the sea, and the sun was enormous and pink as it set in front of our eyes. We left shortly thereafter in order to go to sleep early, planning to return first thing tomorrow to explore the reserve.

Day 10: Veragua Rain Forest Research Park

2009-03-15T14:19:00.005-06:00

From Cahuita to Heredia

I was up almost at the crack of dawn -- since we had to pack, eat breakfast and be on the road before 7:30 a.m. Before I knew it, we were driving away from our hotel and I said a sleepy goodbye to Costa Rica's southern Caribbean Coast. It had been my first visit and, even though it had poured everyday (which was very uncharacteristic for this time of year), I had enjoyed my time.

We were on our way to Veragua Rain Forest, a new destination for nature tourism. Partnered with INBio and the University of Costa Rica, the research park's mission is to connect tourists with the environment, showing them the individual beauty of a single tree, insect or animal. In addition, they research new species, work to develop new uses for known plants and conduct other nature-related research.

After driving for 40 minutes on a bumpy, dirt road, we pulled into the facility's parking lot. We were the only visitors that morning, though the park can receive hundreds of visitors on a cruise ship day.

We began our tour at the reptile house, where several species of poisonous and non-poisonous snake and lizard lay sleeping. The stand-out resident, however, was a giant boa constrictor whose mouth hung open in a steady, menacing hiss. Our guide explained that the boa was merely nervous, and always reacted in that way to visitors -- even so, I was very, very happy that we were separated by a thick glass shield.

We moved on to the ranarium, or frog pond, which was thoroughly enjoyable -- in addition to informative signs and glass cages, the ranarium had an open section. After washing our hands, we passed through cloth doors and entered the dark room, where frog sounds reverberated off every section of wall. Hoarse bullfrogs, mating poison dart frogs and singing tree frogs sang to each other, and we caught site of their antics with well-aimed flashlights.

After a quick lunch, we headed to the aerial tram section of the tour. Climbing aboard, we rolled back the tram's protective cover -- the sky here was blue and the sun was shining, the first time we had seen such beautiful weather conditions in ten days. As the tram began its slow descent, we kept our eyes trained on the forest canopy. Though we only saw two howler monkeys, we heard several different bird calls and hundreds of insect songs.

When we arrived at the tram base, we climbed out and walked toward the sound of a rushing waterfall. The 300-step journey, which mixed uphill and downhill, led us through primary forest. Small strawberry dart frogs, low-flying birds and highly dangerous bullet ants -- just one bite can send an adult to the hospital -- dotted the path.

The waterfall's sheer power impressed me; instead of bringing us in front of the waterfall, the trail had taken us over the waterfall. We looked straight down onto the rushing water, and I could feel the ground vibrate beneath my feet. We stood, staring at the rushing waterfall -- thirty feet wide and at least three times as tall, we were only twenty feet away.

Looking at his watch, our guide encouraged us to finish up -- if we were to arrive home by sunset, we had to leave Veragua in just half an hour. Traipsing back to the aerial tram, we climbed back up the mountain and returned to the base. Just as our car came into sight, our guide spotted an aracari, a type of toucan, in a nearby tree. We took a few photos before finishing up the tour, and then jumped in the car to head back to the Central Valley.

Day 9: Exploring Manzanillo & Cahuita

2009-03-14T14:12:00.011-06:00

Manzanillo and Cahuita

After yesterday's vaguely blue skies, I had high hopes for today's activity -- a horseback ride along Playa Negra, Cahuita's black sand beach. We woke up early, found our next hotel and then settled down for breakfast -- Vincent gobbled down some rice and beans while I enjoyed a banana pancake.

The skies opened up during our breakfast hour, and torrential rain poured from the sky. Visibility was almost nil, and we worried that horseback riding would not be part of the day's activities. We waited another hour, but the rain continued to descend in thick sheets. I made a quick phone call to Brigitte, the horse tour's co-owner and manager, to cancel our reservation -- if the weather cleared up soon, she'd take us out in the afternoon.

The weather was in no mood to cooperate however, and it continued to rain throughout the day. Taking advantage of the break from our regularly scheduled activities, Vincent and I decided to explore the towns of Cahuita and Manzanillo.

Manzanillo is situated south of Puerto Viejo, and so we elected to drive there first. Typically, the 15-mile trip takes almost an hour, since the area's roads vary between well-paved, potholed, dirt and dirt-with-potholes. Looking on the bright side however, slow driving makes for excellent scenic opportunities.

The ocean bordered our left, with very few buildings in sight -- per Costa Rican law, the first 150 feet of ocean front land belongs to the government, and an additional chunk, about 600 feet, is under public jurisdiction, to be regulated as the government deems necessary. With nothing but palm trees to block our view, we watched waves crash over the occasional surfer willing to brave the waters.

Manzanillo struck me as a perfect, tiny Caribbean village. Caribbean-style homes -- single-level, brightly painted, with bamboo and reed embellishments and often raised on stilts -- lined the street. In fact, Manzanillo was essentially a one-road town, with life revolving around the ocean. Fishing boats and picnic tables lined the beach, small restaurants, which surely served fish fresh off the boats, dotted the roadside, and only the occasional pedestrian strolled down the road. In the best sense of the words, Manzanillo is a lazy, relaxed and traditional town.

Jumping back in the car, we returned to Cahuita, a town with which we were much more familiar. Originally settled in the 19th century by English-speaking turtle hunters from Panama and Nicaragua, the town was developed as a provisional and temporary home. The settlement was located at Punta Cahuita, which is today part of Cahuita National Park. Its name is a compound of cawi, meaning "sangrillo tree" and ta, meaning "point". Together, they mean "point where the sangrillo trees grow."

The current town, just a mile north of its original location, was built almost 100 years later. After Cahuita's citizens proffered then-President Alfredo Gonzalez Flores vital aid during a shipwreck, he gifted them with their own land. Cahuita became an official settlement in 1915 but, surprisingly, was only granted town status in 2005.

Cahuita is a larger and more energetic town than Manzanillo, mostly because of its larger population. Fishermen can always be found on the beaches, men on horseback ride through the streets, and children can be heard playing and laughing from sunrise until sunset.

The town is also more modern -- in addition to plenty of restaurants and bars, you can find an ATM, pharmacy and plenty of other conveniences. However, Cahuita retains much of its traditional charm, and off the main roads, the Costa Rican-Caribbean lifestyle rules -- almost every home has a few chickens in the yard, many families speak Patois (a Jamaican Creole with English and African roots) first and Spanish second, coconut is a main ingredient in most meals, and life revolves around the sea.

After our self-guided tour, we headed back to our rooms for a bit of reading and relaxation before dinner. Tonight we would eat rondon, and we were both excited. Taken from the words "run down," rondon is a typical Jamaican meal that was brought to Costa Rica's Caribbean coast. The dish involves throwing every available ingredient -- typically fish, shellfish, plantains, yams, onions and Panamanian hot pepper -- into a simmering pot of coconut milk. The resulting dish is legendary and delicious, but those who want to sample the spicy delicacy must order a day in advance.

Settling in to our seats, we smiled at the hot rondon set before us. Delicious mackerel, green plantains, potatoes and carrots were swimming in a rich, brown, slightly spicy coconut sauce. We dug into the whole fish and barely spoke as we devoured our typical meal. Every bite was a taste of the Caribbean, and we both agreed that it had been the perfect goodbye meal to Puerto Viejo and Cahuita.

Day 8: Sightseeing and Wildlife Watching at Cahuita National Park

2009-03-13T15:12:00.009-06:00

Cahuita National Park

The morning sky dawned bright and blue, the perfect weather for a Cahuita National Park hike. After a quick breakfast, we met our guide for the 8 a.m. tour and walked from the company's Cahuita office to the park's entrance. Crossing the footbridge over Kelly Creek, we saw blue and white herons roosting in the overhanging trees, a fortuitous sign of things to come.

After paying a voluntary park donation, we set out on the wide, sandy trails. Actually "paths" might be a better word, as Cahuita's trails can be hiked with mere flip-flops, my footwear of choice. However, hiker beware: though the trails are easily hiked, venomous snakes live in the park -- closed-toed shoes or boots may be a better choice. Ignorance is bliss though, and I happily began our hike with only my flip flops and a bit of bug repellent.

Sea almond and coconut trees lined the path, and far in the distance, sunning iguanas perched on leafless branches. We counted at least five before moving onward, soon spotting two white-faced monkeys sitting in a tree by the path, scowling at passing hikers. Though the species is generally docile, many park visitors feed the resident capuchins with high-sugar, high-calorie fruits such as watermelon, which is not part of their natural diet. Buoyed by sweets, the monkeys can become more aggressive.

Skirting around the attentive monkeys, we passed by a majagua tree, which appeared to be more roots than trunk. Our guide explained that the tree's bark was traditionally used to weave sandals; this particular specimen was estimated to be more than 100 years old. Looking to our left, we saw a two-toed sloth lazing in a tree, cautiously watching the menacing capuchins just feet away.

The park's path was lined with other amazing species -- red mangrove trees, a Jesus Christ basilisk lizard (that literally can walk on water), long-nosed bats, and the bitter cane plant, to name a few -- and we explored with interest. Soon we arrived at a small river. Taking off our shoes, we forded the waters. When I emerged on the other side, I felt tiny coral thorns in my feet. Sitting down, I plucked them out gingerly before continuing on down the path.

We crossed into primary forest, and the canopy was thicker and taller than it had been before. There were large fungus spots on the trees which, our guide explained, meant the air is clean -- the fragile fungus is airborne, and would die in polluted air. With less light reaching the forest floor, we squished through mud and slipped along the trails. Soon, we reached an elevated path, and climbed up onto plastic decking.

Suddenly, our guide stopped and pointed: just five feet away, a young yellow eyelash palm pit viper lay curled around a tree branch. Its color clashed with the rest of the forest, and it frankly terrified me. Wishing that I had steel-toed boots and a jumpsuit to protect myself, I moved quickly away to a safe(r) viewing distance. Meanwhile, Vincent and our guide, entranced by the colorful snake, inched in closer -- I couldn't believe it.

As if to calm me, the snake refused to move even one scale. He was quiet and sleepy, and hardly cared for the humans interested in him. However, our guide explained that this snake species, though almost completely blind, has a very developed sense of smell and a preternatural motion detector -- even though we were five feet away and barely moving, he knew that we were there.

When we had our fill of watching the sleeping snake, we soldiered onward. I was still nervous, so when we walked off the elevated trail and onto the ground, I grew very attentive of the path and wildlife around me. Suddenly, Vincent stopped dead in this tracks and, almost walking into him, I glanced up. A howler monkey, not three feet in front of us, stood on the path. Our guide explained that he was old, and had probably been ousted from his troop by a younger, fiercer male. I felt bad for him as he crossed the path in front of us -- howlers are social and do not live well alone.

As we neared the ocean, the air got muggier and, all of a sudden, swarms of mosquitoes attacked. Our bug spray seemed to be pointless, as the insects pierced our clothes. Speeding up, we almost skipped the rest of the way to the beach, where cool breezes kept the bugs at bay. Arriving to white sand and blue water, we saw a group of tourists fascinated by a troop of white-faced capuchin monkeys begging for snacks.

Armed with the knowledge that we should not feed the monkeys, I watched the crafty primates pull faces and work their trickery -- they angled to swipe backpacks, drinks and any food they could reach, even if that meant stealing right out of people's hands. However, they weren't having much luck with their looting and so, when I bent down, a small female came to greet me.

Even though monkey mischief is legendary, I was surprised by her bravery -- she thought nothing of walking right up to me and sniffing around for food. When she realized that none was forthcoming (from me or any other tourist), she hightailed it up a tree and reluctantly began to chow down on a noni fruit, one of a capuchin monkey's nature-intended foods. A slightly bitter fruit, noni is part of the coffee family and is known as a natural remedy for stomach woes.

After a short rest and continued monkey-viewing, we headed back down the trail. The return trip was faster, since we already knew the path, and we walked the two miles with ease. Our stomachs grumbling, Vincent and I returned to the typical restaurant we had visited a few days previous, lunching on coconut chicken, rice and beans and sweet plantains once again.

Day 7: Taste Testing at Finca la Isla Botanical Garden

2009-03-12T14:07:00.009-06:00

Puerto Viejo de Limon

We had breakfast this morning at Bread & Chocolate, another favorite breakfast spot in Puerto Viejo. Almost everything there is homemade, from the bread to the jelly, and my veggie sandwich -- avocado, cucumber, lettuce, tomato, bean sprouts and homemade mayonnaise on homemade rye bread -- should just be called "the best way to begin your day." After topping it off with a strong double espresso, I was ready to go.

Finca la Isla Botanical Garden is an example of permaculture, a word derived from "permanent agriculture". This movement encourages people to create self-sufficient gardens of symbiotic plant life. This particular garden was created in 1987, and its owners raise ornamental plants, pepper, tropical fruits and vegetables, spices and other edible plants.

We began our tour in the bromeliad garden, where hundreds of developing plants covered the tables and ground. Red bromeliads, carnivorous plants and cocoa trees lined the small enclosure. As our guide pointed out several species, he explained that Finca la Isla covers approximately 54 acres, though fewer than nine are open to the public.

I glanced up at the sky -- cloudy but not yet threatening rain -- as we walked out into the garden's open grounds. Old cocoa trees painted the landscape, and we learned that the land had once been an old cocoa plantation. In the 1960's, black pod disease -- an arboreal disease that attacks cocoa pods -- arrived to Costa Rica, and many cocoa farmers abandoned their crop for more profitable ones such as banana.

As we walked over rustic trails, we sniffed, tasted and admired several of the garden's more colorful and tasty offerings. Ginger, turmeric and Thai ginger were the day's first flavors, and I savored spicy root shavings as we walked. We stopped in front of an aromatic orchid plant, which our guide explained was the producer of the vanilla bean. When commercially grown, the plants must be hand pollinated, an expensive but worthwhile process.

Crouching down, we spotted the Talamanca dart frog, a poison frog that lives only in the Talamanca mountains. It was the first time I had seen one in the wild, and I was surprised to see that it was brown and camouflaged, unlike most of Costa Rica's showy dart frogs.

In fact, strawberry and blue jeans dart frogs were hopping all around the garden's grounds, intermixed with the occasional black and green dart frog. As a frog lover, I was delighted to match the colorful specimens to their loud forest song.

Moving forward, we approached the pepper plant. Small, green beads hung in fresh, aromatic bunches. To create black pepper, the seeds are removed from the plant while green, and then dried and peeled.

To cultivate white pepper, the seeds are allowed to dry while on the plant, where their skin falls off naturally. We bit into the fresh, green peppercorns, spitting out the seeds as soon as the spicy taste hit our pallets. It was delicious, and our guide smiled, sharing his recipe for green pepper beef.

The rest of our hike brought many other interesting sights, textures and smells: we tested out a rubber tree, where a quick ding yielded sap that dried into an incredible, stretchy rubber within minutes.

We sniffed a nutmeg fruit, where I learned that the spice mace is actually the fiber surrounding the nutmeg seed. We sampled a Gross Michelle banana, the species cultivated before Costa Rica's current favorite. And we scratched at a cola nut, an original ingredient in Coca Cola, and I realized that it did, indeed, smell very much like Coke.

Circling back around toward our car, we spotted many different poison dart frogs and even a juvenile bullfrog. Just as we got under shelter, the skies opened up and the day's heavy rains began. Before leaving, we sat for a while longer, watching as the colorful frogs enjoyed their afternoon's refreshing shower.

Day 6: Exploring Canals and Cocoa

2009-03-11T16:48:00.006-06:00

Puerto Viejo's Cacao Trails

Vincent and I headed out for an early breakfast at Peace & Love, one of Puerto Viejo's most highly recommended breakfast spots. I ordered a huge bowl of fruit, granola and yogurt, while Vincent opted for a typical gallo pinto, or rice and beans. After breakfast we set off for Cacao Trails, one of the area's most popular cocoa tours.

Arriving at our destination, we wound through a small botanical garden on the way to reception. The friendly manager greeted us with a smile and prepared us for the tour. We would begin with a canoe trip down the Carbon River, ending at Cahuita National Park. With rain threatening, she sent us on our way.

Walking through dense jungle on rustic trails, we kept our eyes trained on the forest canopy. As always, Vincent spotted the first animals -- a troop of howler monkeys sitting in the trees -- and began to taunt them with howler hoots.

A few howler handfuls of flung dung later (Vincent had really infuriated them), a canoe glided around the corner and our guide pulled up with a smile. We climbed into the small, wobbling boat and set off down the calm river. Jorge, our guide, pointed out the commercial banana plantations on our right, where, much to the displeasure of many, pesticide planes mist twice daily. Cahuita National Park was to our left, where ornamental bananas and other tropical plants grew wild.

Suddenly, big water droplets began hitting the canoe's surface. The large umbrella that we had brought with us was not designed for canoes, and since Vincent had the camera, I was out of luck. As the rain's intensity increased, I pulled my sweatshirt hood over my head and huddled inside its warmth. Our expertly guided canoe drifted by large tree trunks and gently ran aground on river shallows as we watched water birds swoop and fish for food.

Soon, we arrived at the river's end, where it emptied into the ocean and bordered Cahuita National Park. We took a brief walk around the park before boarding the canoe and heading up river.

Halfway back to Cacao Trails, we pulled the canoe onto shore and began to hike back to base. Since I was wet and cold, the hike helped to heat me up, but the rains continued. We sloshed through mud and, several times, slipped on slick mud banks. The normally active animals were quiet in the forest, seemingly hiding from the rains.

When we arrived, I ran into the bathroom to ring my clothes out. A bit dryer, we settled down for a warm lunch -- the best remedy to a cold day -- of chicken, rice, plantains and delicious toad water (agua de sapo), a Caribbean lemonade. Warmed and in higher spirits, we trekked out once again, stopping first at the onsite ranarium, which housed several of the region's native poison dart frogs.

Weaving along the trails, we made a quick stop at the medicinal plants garden, where Jorge explained the different uses for dandelion (liver congestion), cinnamon (upset stomach, diabetes), basil (brain health) and a host of other flora I had never seen before.

As the drizzle turned into another downpour, we ducked into a Bribri indigenous structure to take a look around.

Clay pottery, some original and others recreations, surrounded us. A sweat tent (DIVA YOK) sat to the right, demonstrating how shamans helped cure their patients with medicinal herbs and good, old-fashioned sweat therapy. Ancient cooking tools and a sample grave completed the Indigenous Museum exhibit, and we set out for the chocolate part of our cocoa tour.

Arriving at the chocolate museum, Jorge started by grinding roasted cocoa beans. When a fine powder was achieved, he mixed in powdered and fresh milk, cane sugar and a bit of cinnamon, patting it down into a thick paste.

Cutting off big chunks, he offered us the fresh chocolate and Vincent and I happily dug in -- it was delicious, as only very fresh, handmade goods can be.

Our tour finished, we headed back to our car and then straight to Cashew Hill Jungle Lodge, our evening's luxurious hotel. I dove into the hottest shower I could bear, but even with the heat, I shivered all afternoon and through dinner. When I arrived home that night, I piled all available blankets onto the bed climbed under, finally falling asleep in their warmth.

Day 5: White Water Rafting on the Estrella River

2009-03-10T16:20:00.004-06:00

Cabecar Indigenous Reserve & the Estrella River

Our misadventure on Day 3 led to a white water rafting invitation, which Vincent and I gladly accepted. Truth be told, my excitement was mixed with just a hint of nerves -- even though I can swim like a fish, several childhood experiences have taught me to be wary of the water. However, I had been assured that the tour was safe and that the river was mostly calm.

We met at 7 a.m. and hopped into a converted truck to take us to the river. We drove first through extensive banana fields, where the trees were weighed down by heavy banana bunches and supported only by small rope ties.

After half an hour, we passed into the Cabecar Indigenous Reserve -- traditional and modern homes lined the road, and children pooled outside a small, hillside school, where Cabecar youth learn their native language before beginning Spanish.

After an hour of driving, we reached the end of the road. A long suspension bridge extended over the Estrella River, and we greeted a Cabecar couple crossing the bridge. They were on route to run an errand in Limon. They had been walking for two days already and had at least 36 more hours to go. After crossing the bridge, we waited until our fellow rafters -- fresh off a cruise ship -- arrived for the adventure. Once they had arrived, we jumped on board the truck again and drove 15 minutes upriver to begin our white water adventure.

We had our choice of one- or two-person intertubes -- Vincent grabbed an individual tube, so that he could ride ahead for photos, and I grabbed a two-person tube with the cruise ship's guide. He said he had been rafting before, and that was all I needed to hear. Armed with life jackets and paddles, we began to float down the river toward the churning water. Emotions swirled through my body -- excitement, exhilaration, trepidation and uncertainty -- and then our speed picked up, and I redirected all of my undivided attention to the task at hand.

As we hit the first rock, our intertube's soft underbelly latched on to its rough surface. My rafting partner called out instructions to me, telling me to push forward, pull hard or paddle backward. I was nervous and, at this point, quite scared, but I didn't think twice -- doing as he said, I pushed, pulled, paddled and exerted myself as best I could.

We cleared the rock and rushed farther down the river, navigating the class III rapids with ease.

Our river tubing adventure lasted just 45 minutes, but by the end, we were all exhausted, soaked to the bone and absolutely elated. The Estrella River, running low due to little rain, had been a kind but exciting introduction to white water rafting. Back at the base station, we changed into warm, dry clothes, enjoyed a fruit snack and readied for our ride back.

Once back at Vincent's car, we drove to Bocuare's main grounds. It was almost 3:00, and we wolfed down the delicious fajitas, rice, beans, squash, plantains and ceviche offered to us. Afterward, our stomachs satiated, we went out on a walk through Bocuare's jungle grounds.

We navigated the trails and grasslands of their butterfly and botanical gardens, as well as a ranarium. Arriving at a trapiche -- a traditional machine used to press sugar cane -- we squeezed ourselves a glass of fresh sugar cane juice.

Dusk was setting, so Vincent and I headed to the car and began our 80-minute trip back to Puerto Viejo. We were tired but happy, and my brain could not help but replay the day's events over and over -- white water tubing had been an incredible experience, and I couldn't wait to try it again. For the moment, however, we were headed back to our two-bedroom, two-bath casita at Cashew Hill Jungle Lodge, where a long, hot shower and relaxing hammock nap seemed like the perfect way to spend the evening.

Day 4: Visiting Three of Puerto Viejo's Best Sights

2009-03-09T14:13:00.000-06:00

Bribri and Cahuita

Waking to cloudy skies but no rain, I wearily pulled myself out of bed. Three days of rainy weather had taken their toll on my spirits, and I felt thankful that all of our activities had been land-based. Today offered more fun: Vincent and I were to take the 3-in-1 Puerto Viejo tour, a comprehensive tour featuring culture (Bribri chocolate tour), ecotourism (Sloth Sanctuary) and conservation (Cahuita National Park).

Our ride arrived a 9 a.m. sharp. We met Paola, our guide, and proceeded to the Chocolate House. Though this would be our second visit, I was excited to purchase more chocolate (yum!) and learn a bit more about the chocolate-making process. Happily, Dona Petronela remembered us and decided to give us a personal tour of her home. We walked around her numerous fire pits, snacked on fresh chestnuts and munched on raw cocoa beans.

Paola explained that the Bribri used cocoa in three ways: as purification, as a medicine and as a drink. We had already learned about cocoa's purifying and medicinal properties, and now Paola explained a bit about its roll as a sacred drink.

In the past, only priests and shamans could drink the cocoa mixture, which was made with ground cocoa bean, chili pepper, vanilla and cinnamon (no sugar). These religious leaders used cocoa as a vehicle for spiritual experiences, but on special, usually religious occasions, everyone could enjoy it.

After finishing up at the Chocolate House, we got back in the car and drove northeast to Aviarios del Caribe, Costa Rica's only sloth sanctuary. The organization began its work in 1992, when they rescued Buttercup, a three-toed sloth. Since then, the sanctuary, run by an American family, has rescued and rehabilitated more than 30 two and three-toed sloths.

Though they may similar, two-toed sloths are as related to three-toed sloths as they are to anteaters and armadillos. In other words, armadillos, anteaters, two-toed sloths and three-toed sloths all belong to the same order, but all belong to different families.

Between 20 million and 8,000 years ago, the modern sloth's ancestor, the giant ground sloth, roamed the earth. These elephant-sized sloths were one of the largest animals on the planet, weighing approximately five tons (10,000 pounds) each. Today's sloths, on the other hand, are much smaller, typically weighing 7-20 pounds each.

We began our tour with a quick video and then visited six of the sanctuary's adult sloths. Our guide explained that adult sloths are not very social animals, and that we could approach them, but should not pet or touch them. Nonetheless, the sloths were very sweet and inquisitive, climbing toward us for close-up interaction.

After spending too few moments with the furry creatures -- I could easily spend hours watching their leisurely movements -- we moved on to visit with the sloth babies. Sitting in open carriers on tables, baby two- and three-toed sloths cuddled each other and their human companions, munching on proffered snacks and playing with tickling fingers.

We all played with the tiny babies while learning about the sanctuary's rehabilitation efforts -- when baby sloths are found abandoned in the wild, they are virtually without natural defenses. For example, if their mothers do not teach them what to eat (many plants are poisonous to sloths), they will eat anything and sicken or die. The sanctuary strives to rescue defenseless babies and to teach them how to survive on their own.

Unfortunately, the grumpy sky had opened with a torrential downpour, and we could not go on the sanctuary's canoe trip. Instead, we hopped in the car and drove to Cahuita National Park. Unlike other national parks, Cahuita is partially administered by its neighboring town and partly by the national government.

Almost as soon as we stepped onto the path, we spotted a 3-toed sloth carrying a baby on her stomach. Continuing on, Paola pointed out a sea almond tree; boiling their leaves into a tea is said to help with rashes. Because of all the rain, the park's sandy path was covered in fallen branches and trees. Armies of leaf-cutter ants trooped along the ground, carrying leaf cuttings to their subterranean nest. Paola told us that leaf-cutter nests are full of formic acid, which doubles as an excellent natural mosquito repellent.

Moving on, Paola pointed out a gigantic termite nest that measured at least 18 inches in width. Scratching it open with a stick, she told us that survivalists rely on termites for four things: to eat as a good source of protein, to burn the nest as a natural mosquito repellent, to burn the nest to clean an infection from swamp bacteria and to use the nest as fish bait. To prove her first point, Paola grabbed a few termites, popped them in her mouth and declared that they tasted like ginger. Offering us a taste, Vincent and I did the (previously) unthinkable: we each ate a termite. That's right, I ate a termite. And it did, indeed, taste like just like ginger.

A troop of howler monkeys was making a fuss off in the distance. Howler monkeys howl for three reasons: to know where other groups are, when it's raining, and when they hope to scare predators away. When they feel threatened and a predator doesn't respond to their howls, howler monkeys generally respond by first throwing nuts, then urinating and finally by throwing their own feces. Paola explained to us that, in order to stop howler monkeys from throwing feces, pick up a dropping in a leaf and show it to them -- they are apparently very hygienic monkeys, and the thought of their own feces is revolting to them.

After we completed our Cahuita National Park hike, we stopped for a filling and delicious lunch: coconut chicken, Caribbean rice and beans, sweet plantains and a natural watermelon drink. An hour later, we were back in Puerto Viejo, watching the surfers ride gargantuan waves on a choppy sea.

Day 3: Getting Lost Isn't So Bad

2009-03-08T13:44:00.000-06:00

Valle Estrella and Bananito

So, funny story. In Costa Rica, the word "bomba" has many meanings -- the most common is "gas station." We had scheduled a trip to one of the area's top canopy tours for this morning, and our directions stated that we should turn left at "la bomba" and follow the signs, traveling along the riverside and past the old train bridge.

We had turned left at the gas station more than half an hour ago, but hadn't seen one sign for the canopy tour. We were, however, following the river and had just passed a very narrow bridge. We drove deep into the woods, stopping to ask passersby if they knew of a canopy tour nearby. Some nodded yes, pointing deeper into the tropical woodland, and others shrugged their shoulders with indecision.

Driving around a corner, we emerged into a bamboo jungle -- huge tufts of bamboo lined the road, bunched into 10-foot wide groupings. The graceful stalks cascaded into a beautiful canopy over the road, and I felt like I was in an enchanted forest. Driving on, we soon arrived at Bocuare Jungle -- a Southern Caribbean tourism destination, but far from the canopy tour we were searching for.

With a smile, a Bocuare Jungle employee clarified our mistake -- we were to have turned left from the town of Bomba, not the gas station! We had driven more than an hour out of our way, but it wasn't all bad news: not only had we taken beautiful photos of the bamboo, but we managed to schedule a white-water rafting adventure for the following Monday.

Doubling back, we made quick time to the Ranch Cedar Valley canopy tour. We arrived just in time to strap up for an upcoming tour and, mounting one of the company's open-sided vehicles, we began traveling to our location. Looking around me, I took in the river view, nesting Montezuma oropendola, and the fire-red poison dart frogs by the roadside.

We pulled to a stop, and I pointed out several of the frogs to Vincent. Unlike many canopy tours, this one was full of life -- strawberry poison dart frogs, blue jeans dart frogs and green-and-black dart frogs hopped along the path. As we climbed upward to the first canopy platform, I raised my eyes to the trees where birds and squirrels played in the morning heat.

The canopy tour consisted of eight cables and ten platforms. The longest cable measured 1,640 feet long and 328 feet high, and it was FAST. In fact, the entire canopy tour was fast and furious fun from start to finish, but the tour's experienced staff and simple braking system made sure that we stopped before crashing into each platform. Our fun was only enhanced by wildlife spotting, which included sunning iguanas, howler monkeys and hawks roosting in the trees above.

After we completed the eighth cable, my group marched back to home base. Leaving me with my book, Vincent went out to take photos of the river and poison dart frogs, but after several hours of grudgingly holding back, the skies opened up and torrents of rain rushed down. Our outing was clearly over, so we returned to Puerto Viejo for a very late lunch and some rest.

Day 2: Visiting Costa Rica's Bribri Indigenous Reserve

2009-03-07T13:52:00.000-06:00

Puerto Viejo

My background is in cultural anthropology, so I was eager to begin the day's tour to the Bribri Indigenous Reserve. The Bribri are Costa Rica's largest indigenous group, though census studies estimate that only 10,000-35,000 Bribri remain. What they lack in numbers, they make up for in their wealth of culture: the Bribri are a close-knit people, mostly living without Western influences including electricity, running water and other basic technologies, and have therefore retained many of their ancient traditions.

The word "Bribri" has six distinct meanings: the tribe, the culture, the region, the language, the municipality and the reserve. Today, we were set to see all six -- traveling first to a local Bribri artisan family, then to the Bribri Reserve, followed by a medicinal plants tour, lunch and a stop at the Chocolate House, which, if rumor had it, was home to some of the best chocolate in Costa Rica.

Piling into the tour van, we headed out to the Family Art gallery, owned by a Bribri woman, her Costa Rican husband and their young daughter. The couple make their living by using forest waste -- nuts, discarded seeds and fallen trees -- to create necklaces, earrings, paintings and traditional masks. After a brief visit, we were off to visit the Bribri Indigenous Reserve.

Before the Spanish conquistadors arrived in Costa Rica, the Bribri, as well as several other indigenous groups, lived off of the cocoa plant. It was considered a spiritual fruit and was used in many of the tribe's most sacred rituals. In the 1800's, the United Fruit Company arrived and began to take the Bribri's land. A brave cacique, or tribal leader, fought them off, stopping them at what is now the entrance to the reserve. For more than 100 years, the reserve, which is autonomous of the Costa Rican government, remained closed to outsiders. In the 1970's, interest in rural and ecotourism coaxed the reserve into opening its gates.

As we drove through the green metal gates, it was instantly clear that we had passed from Costa Rica into Bribri -- wooden homes with woven roofs lined the roadside, and women, the traditional workers in Bribri culture, carried loads up and down the paths. As we rode by, some offered a smile and others simply nodded in acknowledgment; everyone seemed quite accustomed to outsiders in their village.

We drove deeper into the reserve, finally stopping along the roadside. It was raining, so we donned our ponchos and ducked out. Walking over a true suspension bridge -- you have to walk with bent knees in order to keep your balance -- we crossed a river into a cocoa plantation. A Bribri man, who spoke only his native language, offered us a cracked-open cocoa fruit, and we happy sucked on the sweet seeds before walking deeper into the property.

Emerging into a clearing, we were greeted by a dichotomous image: two houses stood side-by-side, one built in the traditional style and the other, a pre-fab home painted bright salmon. Jorge, our tour guide, explained that the World Bank had recently donated money to modernize and build houses in the region. This help has been greeted with mixed sentiments since, while the housing is needed, the pre-fab construction is changing the visual landscape of Bribri architecture.

Our visit today centered on a traditional home, built by the home's owner, Don Silverio. At 108 years old, Don Silverio is believed to be the oldest person in Costa Rica. He built his wood home over 80 years ago, and the only thing that needs regular changing is the thatched roof, a skill at which the Bribri women excel. We greeted Don Silverio and his family, which currently encompass six generations and, in a few months, will increase to seven.

Don Silverio, lying in a hammock, was much more alert and chipper than his age would suggest. He attributed his longevity to good physical condition and a healthy diet, which consists mostly of bananas, sweet potatoes, peach palm and meat raised on site by his family. His wife, he added, died a few years ago at the enviable age of 112.

After a visit to the family's traditional kitchen, our tour group returned to the van and drove to the medicinal plants tour. At this point, the gentle rains had turned into a full-blown downpour, so we rushed through the tour, sampling and smelling several trees and roots along the way. Our Bribri guide explained that their traditional medicine is preventative, meaning that it aims to prevent disease rather than treat it. Because of this, many of their medicinal remedies are meant to boost the immune system, clean the blood and improve organ health.

Our stomachs grumbling, we stopped for lunch just outside the reserve, in the town of Bribri. Our casado, or traditional meal, was made from all-organic, local ingredients, including chicken, rice, beans, potatoes and salad. Afterwards, satiated and energized, we headed to the Chocolate House for a bit of dessert.

We met Dona Petronela, owner of the Chocolate House, which was her actual home. Built in the traditional style, the large, open structure had high roofs and plenty of small fireplaces to allow for cocoa bean roasting. She began by offering us fresh chestnuts -- far more delicious than anything I'd had during winter in the U.S. -- and dried cocoa beans. Surprisingly, the cocoa bean was not bitter, unlike the commercial powder I buy for cooking.

Dona Petronela began by explaining several of the traditional uses for cocoa: cocoa and cinnamon (no sugar) to break a fever, cocoa butter for lip gloss or to prevent stretch marks and hot cocoa for sacred rituals. Included in these rituals is the Bribri birth ceremony, which begins when a woman goes into labor and must trek into the woods to deliver her baby by herself. After she has given birth, she is believed to be dirty and parasite-ridden, and no one may touch her. A shaman is called, and he prays for two days for the new mother's purification. On the third day, he washes the baby and mother in a solution made with water and cocoa seed. The shaman drinks the dirty water and spits it onto the ground, symbolically ridding the mother of her uncleanliness. Dona Petronela points out, however, than many Bribri women no longer believe in this tradition, and many now have their babies in hospitals or clinics.

After several additional stories, we are invited to taste the Chocolate House's many offerings, which include cinnamon, nutmeg, black pepper, vanilla, mint, coffee and other delectable flavors. I quickly stuffed a small bag full of samples, paying just $2 for these little pieces of paradise, and hopped back into the van for the ride home.

Day 1: From San Jose to the Southern Caribbean Coast

2009-03-06T13:41:00.000-06:00

Puerto Viejo and Playa Cocles

Vincent and I decided to meet at 8 a.m. for our trip to the Southern Caribbean Coast-- anything can happen on the Costa Rican road, and we wanted to be prepared. After greeting each other, I hopped into Vincent's car and readied for the five-hour car ride.

We began by weaving north through Heredia, and I could feel the temperature drop as we climbed higher into the mountains. Soon, we drove into Braulio Carrillo National Park -- Costa Rica's second largest -- which also happens to be one of my favorite places in the country. Emerald green plants and towering waterfalls lined the cliffs, spilling down to the roadside. As we made our way through the clouds, I spotted an orange-kneed tarantula on the side of the road. It was my first sighting without the help of the guide and excitement gripped my chest.

Emerging on the other side of Braulio Carrillo, we were greeted not by the Caribbean Sea, but by the Caribbean way of life: humid, warm air played on the gentle breeze and toucans flew above our heads. Vincent, a trained naturalist, also spotted a sloth lazing in a nearby tree.

After stopping for lunch of chicken, rice and beans, we continued along the two-lane highway, intent on reaching our destination as soon as possible. Unfortunately, we were to be waylaid by an upcoming traffic jam -- road workers had gone to lunch, and had apparently forgotten about directing traffic.

We waited in line for an hour as trucks and cars from the oncoming lane barreled past us, until frustrated drivers finally stepped in to rectify the problem. Unfortunately, their efforts only caused gridlock, and we had to wait another 30 minutes before inching forward to our exit.

Thankfully free of the traffic jam, we sped southward toward Puerto Viejo. Little more than an hour later, we had arrived at our Cocles beach hotel and were strolling through the one-lane town. It was quiet and peaceful -- surfers took advantage of the high tide and towering waves, dogs ran along the road and people -- tourists and locals alike -- biked lazily, avoiding the giant, water-filled potholes whenever possible. After our walk, we had dinner at our hotel's in-house Italian restaurant and then collapsed in exhaustion.

Nicoya Peninsula Day 12: Pins and Needles

2009-02-16T11:00:00.004-06:00

Last Day in Mal Pais

Acupuncture has gained a great deal of respect in the medical community over the past decade. What used to be classified as an experimental therapy is now considered a legitimate science. Needles meant to redirect energy are inserted into the skin along a series of 12 meridians, or circuits in the body, depending upon the ailments a particular patient is suffering.

This is based upon the Chinese concept of “qi” (pronounced “chee”), or life force, that flows through us all in perfect harmony. When that harmony is disrupted, an illness is born. Acupuncture is designed to combat discordance, sickness, and suffering by re-aligning this flow.

Precisely how and why acupuncture effectively alleviates pain is a subject of debate. Some western experts theorize that the needles release endorphins in the body; others believe it promotes neurotransmitters to send nerve impulses to the brain. Traditional Chinese philosophy credits spiritual and metaphysical forces with acupuncture’s success. Yin and yang, cold and hot, slow and quick, passive and active energies must remain balanced or the body becomes sick.

I had the opportunity to experience my first session in an open-air pavilion along Santa Teresa’s thoroughfare, while listening to the sounds of the Pacific.

Norwegian-born Ragnhild Kragseth was my therapist, and she began the treatment with a synopsis about her experiences as a doctor.

I was relieved to discover that the woman who was about to stick needles all over my body had undergone five years of study in Norway, followed by a stint as a volunteer at a Chinese hospital. She checked my tongue to see how my organs were functioning, as well as my pulse in three places on both wrists. Her diagnosis was that I was a well-functioning person.

Next came a short questionnaire concerning my medical history. I explained my ailments, and Ragnhild set about the healing process. I am not afraid of needles, and she informed me that I was more relaxed than most of her patients. Each rapid insertion of the needle felt like concentrated pressure, but not quite a needle. I realized that they look much more intimidating than they actually are. If I didn’t know that Ragnhild was poking sharp objects into me, I would have thought someone was pinching me, or pricking me with a stick.

Once all the pins were in (a normal first-time patient gets 2-4 pins. Ragnhild gave me 19!), she wiggled them around in my skin until I felt the qi: a pleasantly warm, tingling sensation, which sometimes shot all the way up to another point of entry. After 10 minutes my body felt decidedly better.

After 20 I felt like applesauce, almost as if I were sinking into the ground. Then it was over. I thoroughly enjoyed the sensation as she pulled the needles out. In some places I could still feel residual energy and wasn’t sure if the pin had actually been removed or not. Stumbling out of the studio felt like I was floating, as if in a dream state. This euphoria lasted about 15 minutes, and the positive effects on my back remained through the next day.

Later that night Franz, one of yesterday’s kite surfing instructors, invited me to visit the cabins of Pachamama. Here I climbed up an impossibly steep incline leading to a shell of a building where he used to reside, before opting to move closer to his cozy bungalows for rent near the sea.

From this elevated vantage point I truly found the most spectacular view in Mal Pais: I was able to see mountains and rainstorms spotting the horizon, a pair of whales swimming, pelicans hunting, people surfing, and the sun setting in the distance.

Nicoya Peninsula Day 11: Kitesurfing at Playa Hermosa

2009-02-15T10:31:00.003-06:00

Few kid-activities in life are more enjoyable than flying a kite. Watching the comet as it dances in the air, obeying every command of the wrist is a reward in itself. Fast-forward ten years to the adult version of this simple pastime: kite boarding. Only now, that harmless kite from your childhood is 15 times larger, and you are strapped to it by a harness, riding on a surfboard. They call them extreme sports for a reason.

Today I had a pair of European kite boarders prepared to teach me the basics: instructors Franz Kandler, with seven years experience, and Juan Carlos Lascaroy, with five. Before our lesson, Juan Carlos had asked me to search “kite surfing accidents” online, to demonstrate the respect surfers should show for the wind. This instilled a bit of fear in me, and I was nervous.

Fortunately, as soon as we met my worries faded, and it became clear that my teachers were knowledgeable and good at what they do. They have surfed scenic locations all over the world, and between me from the USA, Vincent from Costa Rica, Franz from Austria, and Juan Carlos from Spain, we made up an international group with an interesting array of accents.

Before snapping me into the harness, an hour-long kite theory class was held. The experts explained the difference between kite boarding and kite surfing: the first can be done anywhere, like on sand or a lake, and the second only in the ocean with waves. I learned about the kite’s makeup of one parachute attached by five lines to a harness with handle bar. We contemplated which wind windows and power zones I needed to seek out or to avoid.

Juan Carlos explained that if the kite gets out of control, I should let go of the bar and disconnect immediately. This would take a great deal of self-control, as instinct is to grab onto something solid when you sense danger. “A broken kite can be replaced or fixed. The same is not true for people,” he said wisely. It normally takes at least three, four-hour sessions to grasp the primary concepts of kite surfing, but I was catching on quickly.

Next, we visited Playa Hermosa to fly, where the wind was at 14 knots. Ideal winds for beginners are around 12 knots. Because today’s gusts were a bit stronger, Franz and Juan Carlos took advantage of the ideal conditions to hit the water. They demonstrated their skills with impressive tricks and jumps.

Meanwhile, I practiced on land flying a miniature kite. The kite was different and easier to maneuver than the one-stringed toys of my youth, with two cables and no metal pieces. A friendly Dutchman taught me how to perform kite circles. I was overwhelmed with youthful nostalgia and completely lost track of time. The shoreline was secluded, and apart from our group we saw only one other family riding a wind-powered beach mobile.

When the wind died down, Juan Carlos motioned me over to the large kite. He taught me how to inflate it, ribs first and then the backbone. We attached the kite’s four strings and a fifth down the middle, a system allowing the kite surfer to easily launch the parachute back in the air should it fall into the water. He snapped my harness to the device, and I felt the power of the kite. Scared and excited, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I didn’t want Juan Carlos to move away from me should the lines accidentally drift into a dangerous wind zone.

Still on the sand, I began to toy with the wind. I was enjoying myself, and got a thrill every time I let the wind pick me up for a few moments of flying. I was careful to remember that if I got careless the gusts could just as easily drag me into the trees or the road. Each time I jumped I was defying gravity, as if I were on the moon. I would bounce with enough energy to lift off the ground one foot, and the kite would propel me four or five feet. The sensation was new and exhilarating.

While I was learning rapidly, I still wasn’t ready to try the water. Kite surfing is really not something you can learn in a day, and I had already accomplished two days’ worth of work in one. For safety’s sake we left the lesson there, and next time I will be that much closer to kite surfing in the ocean. Meanwhile, I participated vicariously through Franz and Juan Carlos, who had returned to the sea for more.

Nicoya Peninsula Day 10: Tadpoles, Surfing, and Yoga

2009-02-14T14:52:00.010-06:00

I jumped out of bed excited about my surf camp lesson in Santa Teresa. We arrived early, and while waiting by the freshwater river that dumps into the ocean, I noticed thousands of small, black dots moving around my feet.

I assumed they were insects and jumped away afraid. Upon closer inspection I discovered that they were baby frogs, and some hadn’t yet outgrown their tadpole tails. I scooped one up and ran it over to Vincent. It was smaller than my pinky fingernail.

A half an hour later, it was time to begin. The instructor, Lolo, was an extremely talented French man with long, blond dreads. The board I would be using was made of soft foam to prevent injury, specifically designed for beginning-level students. It also featured a thick line painted down the middle to help with foot placement, and a hefty layer of sticky wax to avoid slipping. Attaching the board’s leash to my right foot, I thought about what I already knew from the handful of times I tried to surf on my own. I have found that surfing can be essentially
broken down into four steps:

One: swim out, turn your board so it faces land and lie belly down.

Two: as you feel the wave pulling your feet toward the sea, paddle hard in the opposite direction, headed for land.

Three: push your head to the sky keeping your legs where they are, then jump and plant your feet on the board in a wide stance.

Four: squat and ride the wave without losing your balance.
That is it.

Lolo instructed me to first practice mounting the board on land, in the soft sand. After two attempts, he was satisfied and we moved into the water. Next, I learned how to keep my balance. First, I kept my hands directly under my torso and pushed my chest upward, head pointing toward the sky, with my feet parallel to the board.

Then I threw one foot forward and bent my knees into a crouch, with arms outstretched to maintain equilibrium. “Squat down like you are on a toilet seat,” Lolo sincerely instructed. While the image was less-than-attractive, it made me laugh and I will never forget it.

By choosing acceptable waves and propelling me into them, I didn’t need to swim with my arms, and Lolo essentially accomplished half the work of surfing for me. This allowed time to practice the most important, and most enjoyable, element of the sport: balancing and riding.

After four successful attempts in a row, it was time to pick one up on my own. Lolo reminded me when to paddle, and off I went.

All in all I did well, conquering more waves than not. To be safe, we utilized only the foamy part of the surf that comes after the wave has already crashed, and left the unbroken crests to the professionals.

At 10:30 a.m. Vincent flagged us in. Like a basketball player sinking the last shot before practice is over, I tried to ride one last wave before retiring for the day. Unfortunately, I couldn’t be rushed and, after three wipe outs, was forced to give up. We had to run to yoga at 11:00 a.m.

The outdoor yoga studio was located five minutes northwest of the surf camp. On an impossibly high hill, the ocean view stretched as far as the eye could see.

Surfers were nothing more than tiny black specs skidding along the lengthy waves. Class was more relaxing than intense, taught in Vinyasa flow style with a focus on deep stretching and relaxing breath work.

Mixing both beginner and advanced students was not a problem, as all poses could be easily adjusted according to individual limits and skill level. Teacher and practitioner Katie Graves studied under Shiva Rea in California, a well-known yogi with a popular line of yoga exercise videos.

In keeping with the day’s healthy theme, I ordered an avocado salad sandwich from the vegetarian restaurant at Horizon Yoga Center and Resort for lunch. It came on a bagel with crunchy vegetables. The couple who run the place are from Israel, and their menu is fittingly infused with middle-eastern flavors. The cilantro in my meal tasted fresh-picked, and the pair informed me that many of the restaurant’s herbs and spices are home grown in their personal garden on the property.

That night I watched the sunset from the infinity pool at our hotel, Casa Marbella. My body ached in that rewarding sense that can only come from pushing your physical boundaries. I drifted off to sleep feeling healthy, rewarded, and relaxed.

Nicoya Peninsula Day 9: Cabo Blanco Reserve and the Beach

2009-02-13T14:41:00.007-06:00

The best way to prepare for a long day of hiking in Cabo Blanco Absolute Reserve is with a large dose of caffeine. We fueled up on coffee and panini breakfast sandwiches at the Artemis Cafe in Santa Teresa.

After our meal, Vincent and I drove 15 minutes south through Mal Pais until the road dead-ended at the San Miguel Biological Station, which is part of the reserve. Farther away at the Cabo Blanco station in Cabuya, it is possible to pick up other trails; we chose to begin in Mal Pais because it was closer and more isolated.

Here, the colorful and multi-layered stones sparkling on the beach surprised me. I realized why the locals say that the area is not only important to animals, but also in a geological sense. Smooth yin yang-like and lavender-colored rocks were scattered about the beach, along with unbroken seashells and armies of hermit crabs.

The trail from the park to the beach led past a number of unusual plants. Enormous pochote (a type of spiny cedar) trees and various species of cacti lined the path.

I studied ‘big-bellied cedars,’ a pregnant-looking tree, skinny at the bottom and top but fat in the middle. At the rocky entrance to the beach, two stately bare-throated tiger herons greeted us. Their bell-shaped bottoms and brightly striped, elongated necks made them appear to have come straight from the other side of Alice’s looking glass. While fishing, they permitted us to approach close enough to snap a few photographs before taking flight.

After hiking a mile or two around the rocky shore, we found an inland path guarded by a large family of seventeen friendly black howler monkeys in a humongous tree, eager to interact with two interesting humans. Never taking her eyes off of us, a new mother nursed her tiny baby, that otherwise clung to her back at all times. The group of flexible creatures elegantly swung from tree branches and hung off of each other with nothing but their impossibly long arms and tails.

We hiked another mile until an intimidating DO NOT ENTER sign forced us to turn back. On the way back we spotted a number of birds, including pelicans, and an orange bellied trogon. Unfortunately I tend to pound the ground when I walk, and no matter how carefully and gingerly I placed my feet the animals would scatter before I could see them, leaving me with nothing but a mysterious rustling sound to brood over. Vincent was a light walker, so most of the time I lagged
behind, allowing him to go ahead with the camera for better photo opportunities.

A few hours later, we met back at the car and decided to cruise the nearby beaches. Because of its rocky shore, Playa Mal Pais can be considered, as its Spanish name implies, “bad country” for amateur surfers. The neighboring stretch of beach at Playa El Carmen offers smooth and consistent waves, but is always more crowded. Farther down the coast, Santa Teresa Beach looked nearly the same as El Carmen but with fewer people enjoying her sands.

We found even fewer visitors at the neighboring beach of Playa Hermosa, and absolutely no one 30 minutes north at Playa Manzanillo. We traversed hill after hill to reach a stunning lookout point over the “M” shaped cove.

That night I dined at restaurant Piedra Mar, the most picturesque backdrop in the Nicoya. Locals gather here each night to feast on the best (and cheapest) seafood around. Unfortunately, there are rumors circulating that the government is threatening to reclaim this landmark. Hopefully the hideaway will remain undisturbed for years to come. Meanwhile, I watched the sun slide below the horizon through the silhouette of jagged rocks being pummeled by the rising tide.

Nicoya Peninsula Day 8: Surfing and the Sunset

2009-02-12T16:37:00.003-06:00

Vincent and I left Montezuma early for our next destination: Mal Pais. Mal Pais is a catchall name for the small town and it’s adjacent sister-village, Santa Teresa. While technically everything to the left of the dead-end road from Cobano is considered Mal Pais, and everything to the right is Santa Teresa, the two beach towns are both located along a connected street. Their beaches, restaurants, and businesses are jumbled together, and for all intents and purposes, the two towns have merged into one well-functioning community.

The area has all the comforts of home: four supermarkets, two banks with 24-hour ATM machines, a gas station, and high speed internet nearly on nearly every corner. Mal Pais also has some of the best surf breaks in the country. Having tried the sport in very tame environments, I was excited about Santa Teresa’s larger and more consistent breaks.

Between the four beaches of Mal Pais, El Carmen, Santa Teresa, and Hermosa, there are plenty of waves – even for a horribly unskilled and inexperienced surfer like me. I was ready to get serious, and rented a board for the day from a local surf shop. Here, I invested in my very own surf shirt to keep my top from flying off, feeling that this should somehow automatically improve my ability. I was wrong.

For the first 45 minutes the waves weren’t in my favor. It was low tide and they were small, always crashing too far left or too far right of where I was situated. As high tide neared, the waves grew and began coming my way. After another 45 minutes of floundering about like a rookie, a few seasoned surfers gave me some pointers. Ironically, the best advice came not from a pro but from a Canadian named Doug, who had a mere four days worth of experience more than me.

Doug recommended paddling with my arms for two-to-three strokes after I was pretty sure I caught the wave, before jumping up on the board. Using this tip, I immediately began catching breaks, even if it was only for a few short seconds. Under Doug’s counsel I began to surf.

Two things I learned about surfing by myself are to respect the ocean and to know your limits. When the waves get too big for your skills, pack it in before you drown, even if there are others still going strong. The same goes for when your body gets tired. Exhaustion at sea is synonymous with disaster, so I returned my board early and rested at our Mal Pais hotel, The Place. I put the air conditioning on high and used their wireless Internet connection to check in with my family in the U.S.

At dusk I walked two blocks north to the area’s most popular beach, El Carmen. En route, I bought a young coconut and savored it’s revitalizing juice. Somehow the delicious coconut juice maintains a cool temperature despite the hot Costa Rican sun, making it by far the most refreshing beachside beverage.

People were buzzing around, all witnesses to one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen. I wondered if a person could ever get used to such beauty. Do locals’ senses build up a tolerance? The sound of the ocean washed away all the thoughts in my head and I sat in silence until dark.

Nicoya Peninsula Day 7: Montezuma Waterfalls and Cafe Buen Provecho

2009-02-11T07:00:00.003-06:00

I began the day with a walk by the beach and a stroll through downtown Montezuma. Blue and white magpie jays populated the downtown area like pigeons in New York. I found these Costa Rican birds to be more beautiful and less annoying. As I ambled about looking for lunch, the smell of fresh bread wafting from Cafe Buen Provecho enticed me into a cozy alcove where a bearded American named Roberto Acevedo was busy baking.

He and his wife, Melissa, learned to bake exceptional bagels and sweets back in New Jersey, and recently brought their craft to the Nicoya Peninsula. Maybe it was just that we had so much in common (same home country, same love of carbohydrates), or maybe it was their overwhelming kindness. Whatever the reason we immediately took a liking to one other. Montezuma had proven itself a wonderful place to socialize.

I ordered a pesto chicken sandwich, and after seeing how much I enjoyed it, the couple began serving me samples of their creations. I savored slices of bagel, white, wheat, multigrain, and sweet breads that melted in my mouth. I taste-tested mango marmalade and a “trial” homemade cookie dough ice cream that made Ben and Jerry’s taste like a cheap knock-off. After washing it all down with a cup of coffee, I waddled out of the cafe and toward the entrance to the Montezuma Waterfall.

There are three entrances to the trail leading to the legendary falls, and the first is located at Restaurant Cascada. This longest of the three paths follows the river uphill near the second entrance, which can be reached by continuing along the paved road toward Cabuya. The third entry point is found at the Mariposario Butterfly Gardens, a 15-minute walk leading to the uppermost falls.

I chose the farthest access point from the top, just over the bridge at Restaurant Cascada. The trail was short, steep, and quite slippery in places. I was glad I wore hiking boots. A half an hour later I was at the falls, which were stunning. Midday had brought quite a few visitors, myself included, to ogle the cascade. The crowd was mostly European, mixed with a few Americans and Argentinians.

Reckless teenagers were jumping off the rocks, considered a preposterous activity by local Montezumans. My new friends at the bakery had lectured me this morning about a notorious German, among others, who lost his life diving off the slick falls. With the nearest doctor a 30-minute hike followed by a 20-minute drive to Cobano, and the nearest major hospital another three hours farther, jumping just isn’t worth the risk. Luckily, no one got hurt – except for me, on my return trip.

An exotic bird had distracted me and I carelessly lost my balance trying to snap a photo. With a twisted ankle and a small cut, I hobbled back downtown to Cafe Buen Provecho, where the owners pulled out a first aid kit and attended to my wound. I called a taxi, which took me back to the hotel. After a nap and an ice treatment for my foot, I was ready to return to the city center.

That night a talented juggler put on a fire show in the street. Passing tourists stared open-mouthed as he twirled and juggled fireballs near the library. He balanced long flaming poles from the tip of his nose, and danced beneath the blaze. Even the audience could feel the heat from the sidelines.

After an impressive 30-minute program, the performer asked a spectator to extinguish the flame. This proved to be an impossible task, and after many efforts he put it out himself, ending the act with a laugh from the crowd.

Nicoya Peninsula Day 6: Frowning on a Waverunner

2009-02-10T14:07:00.011-06:00

In his stand-up routine comedian Daniel Tosh once dared me to “try to frown on a wave runner.” Today I learned that not grinning from ear to ear while ripping through the ocean at 60 miles per hour is a profoundly difficult – if not impossible – task.

In fact, it takes a mountain of self-control to keep from yelling and laughing. I was elated when our tour guide offered me an unplanned spin on his jet ski. He asked if I had ever tried it. I hesitantly replied, “once,” omitting the fact that I had once, illegally, operated a jet ski. When I was thirteen, my father let me take the wheel in Panama City, Florida. The minimum age requirement was 16, but I had great hand-eye coordination and we both knew I would do just fine. And just fine I did – until I crashed into someone head on.

Eight years later, working the wave runner was as easy as driving a car. I flew around Tambor’s crescent-shaped Whale Bay at lightning fast speeds until Vincent flagged me in. Returning the machine to its owner may have been the most upsetting moment of my life.

Luckily, I wasn’t sad for long. Minutes later I learned that my destiny is to own an all-terrain vehicle (ATV), or cuadraciclo. Today’s tour left from the town of Tambor, about a 30-minute car ride east of Montezuma and 15 minutes west of Paquera.

The red four-wheelers were sparkling and new, like they had just popped out of the quad factory. I quickly found that they are called all-terrain vehicles because they can, almost magically, conquer nearly any topography thrown at them. We went through rocky rivers, over heaps of soft sand, pastures of tall grass, and long dusty trails.

There were times when we could hear the roar of nearby howler monkeys over the roar of our engines. An hour into the journey our guide stopped and passed out cold waters and Diet Cokes. We walked down a steep incline to one of the most beautiful waterfalls in the country: La Florida. Three inviting tide pools and a rope swing begged us to rinse off. I swung from the rocks three times into the refreshing, but not bitterly cold, water. The place was deserted, and only on the way out did we see other hikers.

Driving back, we encountered a cow jam in the middle of the road. A cow jam is like a traffic jam but less predictable, consisting of three or more beasts blocking the street. In this case there were about 60. We made it through and continued past several small towns outside of Tambor, where friendly locals smiled and waved as though we were celebrities.

Today’s ATV/Jet ski adventure was by far my favorite tour of the trip. We thanked our guide and checked into our next hotel, Casa Colores, on the outskirts of Montezuma. Each of the lodge’s seven houses are lovely, brightly painted and hand decorated.

Family-run by a Swedish and Uruguayan couple, the cabins are quiet and child friendly, and I immediately felt at home. The owners’ two affectionate dogs and four month old puppy also contributed to my happiness.

After turning the pool into my temporary office, my stomach started to growl and I asked the next door neighbors where I could find the nearest restaurant. Without hesitation they invited me to join them on their porch, and upon entering I found the owners of Casa Colores also enjoying the barbeque.

I stayed for about an hour, chatting and appreciating their wonderful Montezuman hospitality. For dessert, the lady of the house served a slice of carrot cake with lemon frosting, which was a culinary masterpiece. Stomach satiated, I returned to my office-on-the-go and got to work in peace and quiet, with nothing but the occasional bird or monkey to distract me.

A while later I began thinking about calling a taxi to meet up with Vincent downtown for my evening yoga lesson. Upon asking a local passerby for the number, the kind woman offered me a ride into town. People on the Nicoya Peninsula were certainly generous.

Dagmar’s evening class was slightly more advanced than the one in the morning, and much more difficult. We flowed through several challenging poses and ended with a long, reflective cool down session that incorporated silent meditation. Focusing on our breath, our inhalations were deep and our exhalations slow. All participants were undoubtedly tired and ready for bed by the final “Ohm.”

I am, what some might call, a bit of an air conditioning junkie. In the days preceding the trip I was nervous about going without for three days in one of the hottest places in the country. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I did not miss it at all. The houses at Casa Colores are well ventilated with fans, and I actually woke up once during the night with a bit of a chill.