From Seaside to Mountaintop - Five Days in Costa Rica
“Welcome to San Juan,” the pilot announced over the intercom. Everyone on the plane had just finished clapping in celebration of safely landing, one of the odd quirks you’ll experience on almost any flight in Latin or South America.
“The sun is shining and looks as though it will be the restof the day. Outside it’s a balmy eighty-two degrees.” I clapped like I had justseen the National Symphony Orchestra complete an incredible concert in person.People around me gave me side-glances.
What can I say, I was excited…
I made it out of the airport without any difficulty, gettinga taxi from there to the bus station in San Jose that would take me to PuntaArenas, a little peninsula where I hoped to catch some sun and beach for a bitbefore heading north and into the mountains to Monteverde.
After getting on the bus, I shut my eyes for a bit. It had been a long day and I always somehow fall asleep on buses, trains, planes, whatever it may be. When I woke up about an hour later, I pulled out my phone to look at where my hostel was in relation to the bus stop in Punta Arenas. My travel-lagged stomach already growling as I contemplated what I wanted to grab for dinner on the way from the bus station when I got there. When my search result popped up on the map, I thought for sure my app was malfunctioning. I was heading north. Google Maps was telling me the hostel I had booked was south.
Like, way south.
Like, closer to Panama than I had ever planned on getting during this trip.
Come to find out, a new website I had used to book thishostel had shifted my location preference some two hundred miles south. So thatmeant I was on a bus to a part of the country that I had no lodging lined upfor.
I may have had a slight moment of panic as I sat therewondering if I’d have to sleep under a bridge that night or something similar.The thought briefly crossed my mind that I could sleep on the beach if all elsefailed. What some people find soothing in listening to the waves crash as theysleep I could literally sleep next to.
I hurried up and dialed a couple of different numbers tosome hotels on the peninsula. One of thereasons I had used the new website was because Punta Arenas doesn’t have anyhostels, so all of the websites I typically use to book hostels were of no usewhatsoever. So after calling a couple of different hotels, only to be told theydidn’t have any room, I began to mentally prepare myself for the possibility ofgetting comfy on a sandy bed.
I found one more hotel that looked promising, and for cheap.I crossed my fingers, sent up a silent prayer, and was met with a slew ofSpanish by the gentleman on the other end.
“Uhhhh, hola," I said, already stumbling over my elementary spanish. "No hablo español. I want to place a reservation for tonight.”
“Uhhhhh, no speak English,” came his reply.
I knew I should’ve spent a little more time with RosettaStone before coming on the trip.
So there I was, using my Google Translate app as I spokewith the man on the phone, asking him (begging him) to let me stay that night.He sounded hesitant, like there wasn’t a room left or that he didn’t like thesound of desperation coming from my end of the line.
Finally, “Okay,” he said. “I help you. I see you tonight.”
Relief flooded through me. This sort of stuff happens when you travel sometimes, plans falling through or not going to plan altogether. But usually I have a little more time to troubleshoot.
I could rest a little easier as the bus wound its way north.Coming into Punta Arenas, it didn’t strike me as a tourist town. In fact, ifanything it was a tourist town for the locals. I stood out, both on the bus andas soon as I stepped off. There weren’t too many other tourists around.
The hotel happened to turn out decent enough. Nothing grand, but which actually ended up being cheaper than what I had found it listed online. And for the panic I had gone through trying to find something, I honestly would’ve taken anything.
That night I spent the majority of the evening in a seasidebar eating more than my fill of arroz y camarón (rice and shrimp). And justlike I’d have with most places I’d go the next twenty-four hours, I had it allto myself.
Waking up the next morning bright and early (jet lag is a real thing), I walked the beach for a couple of hours, soaking in the sunshine and enjoying the breeze, always my favorite part of being on the ocean. I passed a few other people doing the same, but just like the day previous, I was pretty much all by myself. And it wasn’t a small beach either.
I left later that day for Monteverde, a small little town in the northern part of the country famous for their cloud forests – national preserves so high up that if you choose the right day to go, you’ll walk through the park as it’s immersed in a sea of clouds. That night after traveling the majority of the afternoon, I ended up in at one of my favorite hostels so far this trip, taking it easy and finding a local bar to sit down at to have a couple of Imperial beers, the national beer of Costa Rica.
I met a lady from Copenhagen that night as well as a couple of guys traveling from Toronto. They were all super friendly and we all agreed to meet up the next day to go to Santa Elena, one of the cloud forest reserves just north of town.
The hostel was nothing special, but I really enjoyed the community of it. You’re not always lucky enough to score a hostel that’s both decent to stay at and which has a good community of people to hang out with, as well. But Backpackers Monteverde definitely scored each.
We got a bus for four dollars round-trip to get us to SantaElena and spent most of the morning into early afternoon hiking. Unfortunately,it wasn’t a day where the clouds enveloped the mountaintop, but it was still astunning place to walk through regardless. And it wasn’t crowded, either,something we had been told was a selling point when comparing it to its sistercloud forest Monteverde. “Go to Santa Elena, our hostel owner told us. “Monteverdecloud reserve is swarming with tourists.”
We were glad we listened.
Coming back that afternoon, I settled down at a coffee shopright next door to the hostel, a little place that I’d go the next two days forthe great coffee and an amazing panoramic view of the mountains. I spent theevening after dinner sitting around with a group of people from just abouteverywhere in the world – the Netherlands, Germany, Canada, Montana, Denmark,as one of them played the guitar.
It was another night of socializing that made me realize howsimilar we all are, despite differences in language, nationality, age, orreligion.
The next day was my favorite by far, spent mostly zip lining from mountaintop to mountaintop. I booked the excursion through Extremo Sports, who my friend from Copenhagen had told me she’d had a great experience with. I did, as well. They had us zipping across valleys a half mile long, even turning our harnesses around at one point so that we could “be superman.” So rather than facing upwards, seated in our harness, our feet were instead hoisted up to the cable, and the cables from our harness were reversed to our backsides.
It was the coolest thing to be facing downwards, flyingthrough canopies and over valleys and seeing your shadow, arms outstretched,hundreds of feet beneath you, almost as though you were flying.
And while I had been hesitant to book the tour because Iwasn’t sure if it was something overpriced or too touristy (for the record, itwas fifty dollars for a four hour excursion – not bad), I’m so glad I did it. Much like traveling toParis and seeing the Eifel Tower, I feel like you can’t go to Costa Ricawithout zip lining.
As I write this now, squashed onto a plane that’ll take meto Santiago, Chile overnight, I’m thankful for the time I had in Costa Rica andfor the many people whose phone numbers and Instagram handles I’ve now added toan invisible list of those who I’ve been fortunate enough to meet on the road.
And while I’m thankful for the time I had in Costa Rica, I definitely wish I would’ve spent more time in the country. To be completely honest, I don’t know what I was thinking only reserving five days to explore the country. It wasn't near enough time to see everything.
But now I have more reasons that I can count as to why I should go back.
This time I’ll make sure I book lodging correctly.
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What I’m Reading
To Shake the Sleeping Self: A Journey From Oregon to Patagonia, and a Quest for a Life With No Regret; Jedidiah Jenkins
One of my favorite books I’ve ever read, mainly because of the ways in which I find myself relating to the author, who recounts in it his almost two years of biking from Oregon to Patagonia. For those of you seeking out a new sense of adventure, wanting a little inspiration to “shake the sleeping self” and do what you’ve always dreamed of, I couldn’t recommend this book more.
Who I’m Listening To
The Revivalists, Sigala, Alabama Shakes
Thank you to my dearest friend, Shannon, for introducing me to The Revivalists and Alabama Shakes. There was a night I was playing some of their music from my laptop when a guy from Argentina sauntered up and asked who it was I was playing. We ended up chatting for a couple hours, with their soulful tunes playing in the background. Music – bringing people together since the dawn of time.
What I'm Watching
Russian Doll
I am OBSESSED with this show. The dark humor of it, the inception-like qualities of it, and of course Natasha Lyonne, who's absolutely phenomenal. It's a quick watch, so if you start it, prepare for a few days of binge-watching the entire series.