Costa Rica, Pura Vida! | Day 4
Tuesday, February 4, 2020
Today, I woke up bright and early to meet Naomi and Franklin at 6am for a hike before they got to work. They drove me to Franklin’s apartment not too far from the hotel, where we were greeted by a myriad of street dogs! Naomi’s dog, Tucker, and their adopted street dogs, Pinto and Doggy, joined us on our walk.
Naomi and Franklin took me to the plot of land they hope to buy, if they can. There, we saw so many monkeys! They are easier to find in the morning where fewer people go. We got to watch them jump from tree to tree, watching us. Then we went for a hike through the heart of the jungle, and Franklin taught me about the different plants. I swung from a vine like Tarzan and climbed the steep ridges of a tree’s massive roots! There were gigantic palm trees, bamboo, and so much more.
When we got back to the hotel, I helped myself to my favorites from the continental breakfast, then promptly went back to sleep for an hour or so. I had the day free until 4pm, and Naomi had to work, so I was on my own. Something I am learning about myself is that my indecisiveness and poor geographical skills make solo travel a little stressful. I was able to borrow Naomi’s bike, and since she’d shown me around, I wasn’t too lost; but it was less glamorous than when she had taken me around town and was able to act as my translator and guide.
I did stop at a bakery she recommended though, called Pachi’s Pan, where I got a pollo de queso, which is a flaky, chewy crescent-like roll that tastes like sweet bread with a hint of cinnamon, topped with little crunchies that I think were the “cheese” referred to in the name. It didn’t taste like cheese at all to me—but I loved it! Then, since I was a little too overwhelmed to try anything new, I returned to Tacobar, where I got the orange chicken taco and another tamarindo smoothie.
I had about two hours left before I had to get back to the hotel and start getting ready for the evening’s activity, so I decided to be brave and make an adventure of it. Using a simple map I found at VIP’s desk in the hotel lobby, I biked all the way to the far south side of the beach to find “Virgin Beach.” The ride was the usual on Main Street: my life flashing before my eyes with every crazy Costa Rican driver speeding past me. The sun was extremely hot, and I wasn’t entirely sure if I was on the right path, but eventually I made it.
I veered off the main road to the beach, where I followed a lovely sidewalk shaded by palm trees on either side. It passed a tall and glamorous hotel, picturesque against the wild landscape. As I came into the clearing, a man on horseback cantered by and waved hello. Everyone looks you in the eye and greets you here, just like in Texas.
I parked Naomi’s teal-painted bike against a palm tree and made my way to Virgin Beach, which was a rocky area beyond the more populated area of the beach. A river divided the two, in which a little tiny sandpiper tiptoed around looking for little fish to eat. A little red roof, perfectly triangular, peeked out from the tropical trees on the side of the river that led up to the mountains. I wondered who might live there.
Crossing the quicksand-like pebbles that lined the river’s floor, I shook out my Chocos and wandered to the other side. The sun sparkled off the water in blinding reflections. A couple waded in the waves, and a few fishermen cast their lines nearby. Black rocks made little chaotic castles for pelicans to perch upon, from which they dove into the sea to catch their afternoon meal.
I climbed some rocks and wandered nomadically, taking pictures of the surreal geometric patterns that the waves left in the sand: their love notes to the shore. A strange pattern disrupted them, which I identified as crab tracks. Sure enough, a tiny little pink crab revealed himself by scurrying away sideways, looking at me with it’s big, antenna-like eyes.
As I walked further off the beaten path, I noticed a man in the shade of some pleasant-looking trees nearby. A clothesline hung on the end of the shaded area, and he waved to me and said something. I quickly looked away and kept walking, wondering if he might live there, a homeless man. Since I was by myself, I figured it was best to err on the side of caution. That being said, I kept walking, far away from civilization, and one of the fishermen started walking in the same direction, like he was following me. I got scared and turned towards the water, walking over the rocks and pretending to take pictures, to see if he would keep walking. He stopped, and turned back in the other direction. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued my journey.
I hiked to where the cliff veered right, to see what was on the other side. My curiosity would not let me turn back, even when fear and fatigue begged me to. I could feel my flesh burning again, new sunburn blistering the old; but I made it. It was another pocket of shore, much like the one I came from. Getting there gave me a sense of having conquered something, and I was very close to climbing a steep Pride Rock-like cliff to get an even better view, but decided it was not smart to try that without anyone to call for help should I hurt myself. (I could not contact anyone with my phone, since I’ve only been using the hotel’s internet this whole trip.)
With a check of the time, I knew I was due for my return trip. My limbs were tired, and my sunscreen had certainly worn off by now under the hot afternoon sun. I trekked back, mounted my bike, and returned the way I’d come. During the ride, I felt like I was going to pass out—not from fatigue, but overheating! I could tell I was burnt, badly. When I finally made it to the hotel, I hopped in the shower and set it to cold cold cold! It felt so good, and took a surprisingly long time for the water to bring my body temperature down. When it hit my upper body, the icy water turned warm from my burns by the time it reached my legs and feet. I stood for a long time, just letting it cool me down. Then I rested.
Before I knew it, it was time for my horseback riding tour. Naomi and Franklin dropped me off and I went up the north side of the mountain with two Russian ladies—one of whom was from Brooklyn—and a tour guide that didn’t speak much English. My poor horse was very tired and I was concerned for them. The views were beautiful though, and it felt great to be on a horse again for the first time since breaking my ankle. The horse in front of me, Paola, liked to stop stubbornly for herbal snacks along the way. We saw a weird, turkey-like bird in a tree with a red neck, and a toucan flew overhead so quickly that I would have missed it if the guide hadn’t pointed it out. Our final destination was Miro’s Mountain View to watch the sun sink lower in the sky, after which we returned the way we’d come.
By the time I got back, I was extremely tired, and wasn’t sure if I had any energy left even for dinner; but Naomi felt bad for me since I had shared some of my concerns about the tour (how I felt the horses were overworked, there was no instruction on how to ride the horse, so new people wouldn’t be comfortable, etc.) and had a whole plan fo us to split multiple Costa Rican Appetizers at a restaurant called Las Olas. I’m glad I decided to go, because we had a lovely time! The atmosphere was great, I especially loved the tables, which were made from one massive slice of a tree, its beautifully rusty brown rings ripplying in uneven ovals. We got patacones, which were like tostadas but on fried, smashed plantains—like a potato pancake. You’d put refried beans, shredded meat, and pico de gallo on it and eat it. Yum! We also got fried ribs, and a bowl of mixed, cold seafood with tortilla chips. It was almost like a salsa, but it had fish, shrimp and—wait for it—octopus! I freaked out a little when I could see the purple suction cups on the white slice of octopus tentacle, but I ate one to say I did it. It was similar to calamari, but tougher… it sprung back when you bit down like a sponge, a little too weird for my taste. But now, I can say I’ve eaten octopus! Pura Vida!
Franklin and Naomi taught me a Spanish phrase that means “I’m as full as a whale”: “Estoy llena como una ballena.” It took me forever to get it right, but once I did it was so much fun to say, and we all laughed and laughed together. What a wonderful evening.
