Is the Grass Greener? Talk Amongst Yourselves...

If you were here, you would know that Costa Rica is not a paradise. For instance, on the Pacific coast, there are these bugs, maybe mosquitoes, maybe something else, chiggers, no see ums…I don’t know, they just bite me. I use Off. Lots of Off. More like On. Sometimes I feel it happen, sometimes I am just plain surprised! And then a part of me swells up about the size of a 100 colones coin  (that’s bigger than a quarter), and then it starts to look and act like a mini volcano, with this water liquid coming out of the top of the cone, helped along when I press it of course. ‘Cause you just have to… it's SOOOO itchy. Gross. Don’t think they’re still things inside my body. Hope not.

It’s rained in Santa Teresa, heavy, for the second straight night, since it’s still the end of the rainy season. When it rains here, it’s solid water coming from above. I walked about 10 meters and was totally soaked, like truly wet, everywhere. Helps that it’s warm water though. Kind of pleasant, I suppose. But wet. Last night, the rain was so heavy; the road to the beach was a river, an actual river. Rio Grande! This morning, they told me it’s the worst solid rain in 7 years. The roads were washed out, and the landslides meant we had to take a cow path to get to the main road on the journey back towards San Jose. The beach was a mess but the squirrels has lots to eat.

So this morning, we (five adults and the cutest baby – who giggled all the way) were picked up by a 4x4 taxi, whose amazing driver blew through rivers, up steep hills with potholes the size of his tires, streams coming from the mountains on the ‘road’…it was an excellent adventure Bill and Ted!

To get back towards San Jose today, it took said taxi, a van to a ferry - no air or openable? windows, the ferry (35C) to another van, that van dropping me in the pouring rain (it had air), waiting for a bus, that bus to the town, walking to the B&B. Total time - 7 hours. Sound like fun?

In Santa Teresa, there was no police, sewage infrastructure or water infrastructure. So we locked things up (in a safe and double lock rooms), have water delivered in big old rusted tankers, and drink bottled water and most interestingly, put ALL paper products from our bathroom expeditions into a container next to the toilet. Think about that for a minute. Yup. That’s right. NO paper products. The bags get taken away regularly, but since most of the places I stay in have shared bathrooms, it gets a bit interesting. Actually, most of Costa Rica has these little containers for the 'paper' products...

The sun burns you in five minutes. I am such a white guy. Getting browner though. Reapplying sunscreen is fun, with the sweat dripping off you, or salt water staining your clothes – or is that your sweat? But wait, it’s sunny, and hot, and there is this thing called shade that I have discovered is very good in limiting this burn. No shade on the beach though. Or you can put on clothes to cover you up and watch yourself melt instantly. I tried it one day and lost 47 pounds.

They speak this language called Spanish here. It’s really nice to listen to. Where it gets to be a bit of a problem is if you need to understand it. They speak so fast, and although the sounds that make these words are becoming more familiar, it’s still Spanish.  Also, everyone I meet knows four or five languages. I know 1…plus a bit of French, which confuses me even more since I am looking for a word and it comes to me in French before Spanish.

Did I mention the bites? 

On the other hand, I had my laundry washed a couple of times so far, and when you put on a clean shirt, smelling so fresh, it just makes you feel wonderful. There is nothing like a shower and clean clothes. Well, maybe all of this great fresh food that I am eating. And this exercise…walking, walking. More walking. I think I have lost weight, but think I can find a scale here? 

And the animals, of the pet kind. They’re everywhere, and so happy - imagine three or four dogs (and a couple of cats) pretty well everywhere, not on leashes, no poop and scoop law though; mind you, you’re already looking down at the ground because the roads are uneven and made of dirt, rocks and mud so it means you have to look down, and it’s easy not to step in anything yucky. You learn to walk in this ninja way, stepping closer to the surface, pushing the rocks out of the way and not sliding in the mud. But anyway, the dogs. They’re well behaved, respectful of humans, then one barks and suddenly there are seven dogs barking and rushing out to the street to find out what’s happening, or they just hang out and chill with you, or help you find your way. I miss my dog.

And the noises, besides the sound of the torrential rains hitting tin roofs, like wild noises, some birds with ear shattering calls, or actually seeing them, odd things that I have never seen, yellow birds, funny birds with really long beaks, tons of vultures, pelicans, hummingbirds, all these colours, so many types, can’t keep up, where’s that guidebook? Did I buy the guidebook – nope, too heavy to carry with my life in a pack. Then there’s the iguanas or lizards, big dinosaur looking things, hanging on tree branches, about to probably land on your head and eat you. Or not. 

Being on a tight budget means you are not staying at a resort. The beds are not all wonderful, the pillows are too soft or too hard, the ants are in the oddest places, and the bugs (did I mention them before) are wonderful.

Most, actually almost all of the travelers I am meeting are younger. They’re awesome. Like really. No they are. I try to keep up. Those who choose to travel that are old and decrepit like me do not backpack or stay at hostels. They do this thing called plan, and go on cruises, or stay in actual 4 or 5 star hotels, that have things like pools and thick towels where you don’t have to put your ‘paper products’ next to the toilet.

Crime against tourists seems to be fairly common, stories of pickpockets and scams and stickups…I met a tourist who got his pocket picked, heard stories of awful things, saw interesting characters watching me, was asked to buy drugs many times. I have not had any of this happen to me. The people that I have met are helpful, engaging, interesting and wonderful. Ticos and gringos. So I use common sense and just go with it. Everything happens for a reason, but I hope there isn't a reason for me to get robbed.

Nothing is cookie cutter here, buildings, houses, hostels, hotels – all seem to be made of available materials, some great and some not so great. There’s this thing called creativity here, so you get to see what people think is creative. Never work in Barrhaven (note to readers – this is a suburb of Ottaea, Canada, where every building must look the same and it’s so wonderfully exhilarating to try and find a friend’s house, even though you’ve been there 20 times – I just look for their car). Here in Costa Rica, the creativity shines through, and when you find a place that is built in a style you love, you are just blown away by the details and the passion in which it was built and maintained. Casa Zen in Santa Teresa is one of these places.

Trust me, I am not complaining, for the way to really see a country and the people is to immerse oneself in the place you are and meet other backpackers who travel with their entire life strapped to their backs. There are 7 billion people in this world, and most do not have this opportunity. Most do not leave where they are. I get to travel and choose where. I am lucky, bites and melodious languages and bugs and water and fellow travelers and tons of fun. Did I mention rain? Or mosquitoes? Scratch, itch, smile, laugh. Throw yourself in the ocean, twirl and dance badly to blaring salsa music on the ferry. 

This is not the way for everyone, but it’s my way.

I may decide to go somewhere else soon... stay tuned...