February 28-29, 2008
Day 883-884

I took yet another bus to the town of Arenal, which sat on the Arenal Lagoon with a view of, you guessed it, the Arenal Volcano. It was a pretty area, but there wasn't a lot to do because the roads were set up for motor traffic only, and the consequently the lagoon wasn't very accessible by foot. Still I had to stop there for a night because there weren't any more buses that could take me through this region to the place I wanted to go.

The next day I took two more buses to get to Santa Elena. It looked close to Arenal on the map, but I still wasn't able to get there until late afternoon. That didn't much matter, though, because it was probably the biggest tourist trap I had seen in Central America so far. Basic necessities like restaurants and the Internet were three times more expensive than anywhere else I had been in Costa Rica, and even the grocery store did its best to gouge the tourists.

I was sure this place wasn't for me I met an English girl who said she had just gotten back from walking through the forest. She went without a guide, so I figured the experience would be cheap, or possibly even free. But when she showed me her entrance ticket for $15, I decided to leave the first chance I got. I could somewhat understand it when people paid $75 for a full-day guided tour, but $15 just to walk through a forest on your own for a few hours? Absolutely ridiculous. I calmed my nerves, called it an early night, and planned to leave tomorrow before my mildly good impression of the country turned really bad.

February 26-27, 2008
Days 881-882

Mary and her mom waiting for the bus.

A few days ago, I met a girl named Mary on one of my bus rides. She was studying computer science at a university on the Caribbean coast, and through a scheduling miracle of sorts, managed to take off for a few weekdays to visit her family. She invited me to visit her family in San Rafael de Guatuso, and soon I was introduced to her mom, brother, adopted brother, and a bunch of extended family members. They were a jovial bunch, and we had a good time exchanging the stories of our cultures that first night.

The next day, we took a four-wheel-drive truck up a long, unpaved hill to the Rio Celeste. On the way, we stopped at the Arbol de la Paz, which was probably the biggest tree I had ever seen. The river got its name from its mouthwash color, which was a result of the natural mixing of various minerals from the mountains. During our long hike, we stopped at hot springs, a lookout point, a swimming hole, and of course, a waterfall. It was a beautiful place and still largely a secret kept only by the locals.

My visit with Mary and her family changed my opinion of the Costa Rican people. I had thought they were a bit jaded from all of the tourism, which resulted in them being treated like servants by thousands of Americans per year, but Mary's family was very nice and just happy to meet a foreigner, despite having already met thousands before. The people of Guatuso were every bit as hospitable as those whom I had met elsewhere on my travels.

The photo album for this entry is here.

February 25, 2008
Day 880

The town of La Fortuna, with Arenal in the background.

I got out of the big city today and took a bus to La Fortuna. It was a nice little town with a quaint church and a flowery plaza, but the highlight was clearly the nearby 1633 meter Arenal Volcano. Every businesses in town had a volcanic theme to it, including at least three hotels called "Hotel Volcano." I would have liked to have climbed Arenal, but it was illegal because some tourist got killed by lava and ruined it for everyone, so I had to settle for viewing it from afar.

The photo album for this entry is here.

February 21-24, 2008
Day 876-879

Steve and Miriam at their home.

It was a long bus ride to San Jose. Despite the small size and good roads of Central American countries, it still takes a full day to go halfway across the country because of frequent bathroom breaks, multiple flat tires, and engine breakdowns in the middle of a busy urban highway. It was still dark when I left the jungle this morning and almost dark again by the time I got to the capital.

I had told myself that I wouldn't visit any of the capitals in Central America due to a lack of interesting stuff to do, but when I was in Boquete and a fellow hostel-goer named Steve invited me to visit him, I couldn't pass it up. Steve was a psychologist from Chicago married to Miriam, a Tica (a Costa Rican woman) from San Jose. They were living in San Francisco for over a decade, but a few years ago they retired and moved back to her hometown.

I think the psychologist in Steve constantly had him playing mind tricks on me. He assured me that he was brilliant, and when I informed him that every brilliant person I had ever met didn't feel the need to inform others of their brilliancy, he told me that he was, in fact, so brilliant that he had no need to be humble. We spent a lot of time in coffee shops talking about travel, and Miriam spent most of her time rolling her eyes at Steve's highly intelligent remarks.

We also got to meet some of the most upstanding members of Costa Rica's ex-patriot community. Steve's friends (actually, he referred to them as 'acquaintances') were mostly single American men in their sixties with a surprising lack of American women at their sides. Steve told me that virtually all of the Americans living in Costa Rica were societal outcasts, whether running from the authorities or their ex-wives, or simply being unable to handle the pressures of a "normal" life back home. Steve, however, assured me that unlike the rest of them, his closet was free of skeletons.

Street performers.

Besides the Americans living in San Jose, who were easily distinguishable because they hung out in the same haunts every afternoon, there were a lot of normal tourists meandering the city as part of their week-long vacations. I wondered why they chose Costa Rica when there were so many other places in Latin America with equal, if not better, sights and amenities, and lower prices. Steve explained that when people researched Costa Rica as a possible vacation destination, they only read about the good stuff. The country abolished its military back in 1949 after a civil war left the government in shambles. There are rain forests, volcanoes, and beaches withing easy reach of the capital. There is a large middle class and generally a high standard of living, including a free social health care system. At first glance, Costa Rica looks like a gem surround by other Latin American countries that are marred with problems.

However, the level of violent crime in San Jose was as high as anywhere I had seen. Reading the local newspaper, I discovered that a few days ago, two immigrant engineers working outside got robbed at gunpoint of thousands of dollars worth of equipment by several men. The police caught the assailants but they were inexplicably released after a night in prison. That sparked a wave of vigilante justice, in which scores of frustrated citizens pummeled a man who was known as a thief, yet who had nothing to do with the robbery, nearly to death. The message was clear: The police won't protect us, so we'll take the law into our own hands. Steve also told me several stories of people and businesses, including a jewelry store just last week, being robbed in broad daylight in the supposedly safe downtown area with hundreds of people around. Of course, the robbers never got caught in those stories. He also warned me of the increasing problem with street gangs with nothing to lose in Honduras and El Salvador. I missed the days of traveling through South America when all I had to worry about was high altitude, hungry jaguars, and drug cartels.

The photo album for this entry is here.

February 15-16, 2008
Day 870-871

Boquette was cool and drizzly as usual when I left, but the heat knocked me back like an ocean wave as I neared David. Soon I was in Paso Canoas, where I had my easiest border crossing since going between Chile and Argentina two years ago. Within half an hour, I was in Costa Rica and on my way to the small port town of Golfito.

From Golfito I took a short boat trip to Puerto Jimenez on the Osa Peninsula, still very close to the border with Panama. My reason for going there was the Corcovado National Park, which the Lonely Planet and several travelers I had met recommended as an off-the-beaten-track jungle adventure. Just as in Panama, I found Puerto Jimenez full of tourists, but the locals were nonchalant and even accepting when they were expected to speak English in their own country. The best part of the town was that scarlet macaws were living in harmony with the people, and their loud squawks could be heard wherever I walked.

As I was walking around the town, I met a Brit from Birmingham named Richard who was in the country doing research on climate change and was up for a jungle trek. Getting information on the park was easy and seemed more organized than other countries, but unfortunately that meant the best camping place was almost always full so we could only stay there one night. After a day of planning and buying supplies, we were ready for our Central American jungle experience.