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See the World!!!

On the Road with Fast Eddie

Fast Eddie

An American Living Abroad

Late in 1999 Fast Eddie wasn't so fast. In fact he was stuck! So he sold EVERYTHING he owned, and decided it was time to explore the world... live life on his terms! With his backpack and passport he left, as Thoreau says, "to suck the marrow out of life!" He is not sure where he is going, but we are invited to tag along. We'll be somewhat behind him, following the trail of breadcrumbs he leaves so we don't lose the way...


Parque Nacional Manuel AntonioCosta Rica

April 8, 2005
Exchange rate: $1 = 455 colones

Costa Rica was my third new country on my almost six-week Central American trip over the Christmas holidays. Before going there I'd felt a great deal of anticipation, since it was a country I'd heard so much about from so many residents and previous visitors. Numerous people I'd known had either traveled or lived there and the feedback I'd gotten over the years had been non-stop unanimity on how wonderful a place it was. You might say there'd been an especially strong advanced billing.

I entered via TICA bus, a company that specializes in getting people up and down Central TICA busAmerica as economically and fast as possible and I traveled all the way from Granada in Nicaragua to centrally located San Jose for a mere $10. TICA's farthest northern point is Tapachula, Mexico (just across Guatemala's southern border) and it goes south as far as Panama City. Sometimes when traveling you just want to seriously haul ass and in this part of the world TICA does a lot of the ass hauling! You need to pre-book your intended trip, rates are reasonable, and though the one I was on had a nonfunctioning and flooded bathroom, the buses are more than a step up from the more common "chicken buses". In fact, they're more like an escalator up! www.ticabus.com

So why would fast eddie want to haul ass? My strategy on this part of the trip was to get through Costa Rica quickly and on into Panama in order to check it out, then to take more time coming back through Costa Rica as I headed north towards home in Xela. I was traveling with Vikky, a fellow teacher whom I work with here in Guatemala. She's from New Zealand and had met up with Travis (remember him?) and me in Granada. Soon after Vikky arrived, Travis announced his lack of interest in going farther south as he wanted to further explore Nicaragua - despite getting more or less assaulted there! So Vikky and I headed off bright and early one morning and eight hours later (including the typical delay for the border crossing) we were in San Jose, checking into the adequate, well-located and curiously named Hotel Asia (1920 colones/$4.40 per person for a double).

San Jose is a surprisingly bland and unattractive city considering it's the capital of Central America's most stable and prosperous country - and one that never had a war destroying much of its ancient architecture, as it did in Granada for example. However, we managed to have an enjoyable time the one night we stayed there. A Christmas festival along Avenida Central, the long and heavily utilized pedestrian zone, had generated a celebratory atmosphere and for less than 10 cents you could buy confetti and throw it on whoever was walking by you. Most people were doing just that and I thought to myself, "What the hell, why not? How often do you get a full license to pelt complete strangers with something? So what if it's only with little pieces of paper." Giggling teenage girls were the most fun to bomb and I even nailed a couple of policemen!

I really don't have that much else to report about San Jose. It's got that big city hustle and bustle, though people were extremely helpful when approached for help. I can also say I saw a LOT of good-looking women, that's for sure. Also we ate not once but twice in an amazing restaurant called Vishnu. It has multiple locations and serves up delicious and reasonably priced vegetarian food and baked goods. For less than $5, I had a soy burger, fries, pineapple smoothie, chocolate brownie and a café con leche. We both thought that the main city market was among the best we'd seen in Central America, and at an elevation of 1150m the city was surprisingly cool at night.

From San Jose, Vikky and I got a bus going north towards the Caribbean coastline where Costa Rica bumps into Panama. Once out of the city it feels like you're touring a national park: fertile and green with clumps of population here and there between massive fields of pineapples and bananas, plus lots of attractive rivers, mountains and beaches. It's definitely a beautiful country with 27% of it lying within protected areas and a population of only about 4,000,000. Coming from very poor Nicaragua, it was noticeably cleaner and more prosperous. Obviously, not having years of civil war like most of its neighbors did can do wonders for any nation's economic development.

As we got closer to the coast it began to rain and we discovered to our surprise and dismay that although it'd been the Dry Season for several weeks in Central America, there were a few areas where it had yet to arrive - among them the Caribbean coastal region. And after nearly three hours we arrived in Puerto Limón where it was intermittently pissing down buckets! This was a theme that would play out throughout my time along the coast in both Costa Rica and Panama, as well as in the mountains of both countries, since in those areas the Dry Season doesn't show up until February. For some reason the Lonely Planet Guide overlooks this fairly important detail while outlining weather patterns in this region. You'd think it'd be worth pointing out, wouldn't you?

Puerto Limón is described in Lonely Planet as a "seedy but lively port". I can't fully agree with that assessment since I didn't find much liveliness there. But it was seedy - and also interesting culturally. Besides the rain, I noticed a lot of Chinese and Blacks and only two other tourists - the latter in the supermarket buying huge garbage bags to protect their backpacks from the downpour, just as I was. According to locals I spoke with the Chinese were brought in to work on the railroads, but were unable to deal with the stifling heat. So, as the Chinese immigrants do wherever they migrate to, they set up restaurants - in one of them I bought a "Taco Chino", which was basically an old-fashioned spring roll. Has there ever been a more adaptable and hard-working race of people anywhere on the planet? There's an old saying that if there ever was a nuclear war, all that would survive would be the cockroaches. However, and I mean this with the absolute utmost respect, no doubt the Chinese would also still be around… and thriving!

When the Chinese failed to pan out as railroad workers ("They dropped liked flies from the heat."), Jamaicans were brought in to do the work and, in addition to Spanish, they speak their distinctive sing-song English dialect. Until 1949 the Blacks were legally discriminated against, unable to vote or to travel in other parts of Costa Rica, but they now seem to have been accepted, more or less. Vikky and I ended up speaking with several of them, sometimes by necessity since finding our way around town was complicated by virtually no street signs whatsoever and we were forever seeking directions. They were quick to aid us.

The next morning in a driving rain (and to think I almost didn't pack my raincoat on this trip!), we boarded a south bound bus on a rough dirt road that ran alongside the sparsely populated northern coast. We passed through the teeny communities of Cahuita and Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, the latter popular for surfing due to the country's biggest and most powerful waves. Consequently there's a laidback party scene there. In addition, this area is where you're apt to encounter one of the few remaining indigenous populations in Costa Rica, the Bribri. My only encounter with them was on the bus and they were extremely shy.

The road we were on was dreadfully primitive and passed through plantation after plantation and not much else, aside from the tiny villages and occasional very basic home. It's clear that huge corporations (agri-business) dominate the economy there. Whoever got on and off the bus was dirt poor, except for the few tourists who climbed on, destined for Sixaola, the border town for Panama. It was there that Vikky and I exited Costa Rica, only to return less than a week later at another much more popular crossing farther south on the Carreteria Interamericana (Inter-American Highway) at Paso Canoas. From there we hightailed it all the way north to San Isidro de El General.

I was tempted to explore the south Pacific coast area: the Peninsula de Osa around Golfo Dulce, a region offering several gorgeous and diverse parks and reserves. But to do so would have gobbled up too much of my travel time and I'd gotten rave reviews on another place that was substantially easier to access. While in Panama we'd met and hung out with a Tico (what the Costa Ricans call themselves - Tica for females) named Jorge who'd told me that his favorite park in his native land was Parque Nacional Manuel Antonio (PNMA). So after an uneventful night in uninspiring San Isidro, we caught a bus to Quepos, a stunning ride of 3 ½ hours along mostly dirt roads that cost a mere C955.

Once a major port, Quepos is now a sport fishing center and the nearest town to PNMA. In this part of Costa Rica it was even more evident that Americans can show up in this country without knowing any Spanish whatsoever and do just fine, and also that many come here and buy property. Signs by Coldwell Banker, Century 21 and other companies advertising real estate were everywhere. And almost all signs were in English… even with correct spelling!

Due to its relative safety and low cost, Costa Rica has been a major tourist destination for Americans and Canadians for decades and once you get there and look around it's easy to figure out why. Since North Americans are not noted for linguistic versatility, the locals have eagerly accommodated their monolinguality (did I just invent a word?). They're well prepared to pocket the fistfuls of cash carried by gringos who know no other Spanish aside from, "hola", which they sometimes don't realize is spoken with a silent "h", "adios", and "gracias", which they often mispronounce "grass-e-ass". Ok, they probably know "cerveza" and "bano" too. Their attitude is, "Hey, I'm on VA-CA-TION and I can't be bothered to deal with another language." Ok, I get it - they only have a week or two and who's going to enroll in a language course just for that, but couldn't they make just a little greater effort to be culturally sensitive and communicate more with the residents?

These are the travelers who only ever ride in expensive shuttle buses or rent big Sport Utility Vehicles, only stay in outrageously high-priced hotels and eat in restaurants with white table cloths (unless it's a McDonalds), stuff their Gucci suitcases full with the tackiest non-authentic souvenirs imaginable, videotape locals without even thinking of asking permission first, and end up coming home and telling all their friends about how great Costa Rica was - but never really knowing anything about the place. Nothing, nada, zero, zilch! Sure it's their money and time and they're entitled to spend it as they wish, but I just think it's a shame that they've visited a foreign country and have no real clue about its true character or culture. They could've gone to Hawaii and their experience would have varied little, except they would've gotten a lei wrapped around their necks when they stepped off of the plane. George W. Bush is not the only American "living in a bubble".

While in Quepos I ambled into a travel company to peruse their selection of brochures. While standing there I heard, "If ya need any help there fella, just give a holler, ok?" I looked over and spotted the source of the friendly offer: a severely balding, massively potbellied guy in his 50s who looked like he could be the poster boy for "letting yourself go". His name was Richard and to his credit he was an amiable guy - a "good ole boy" of warm disposition and best intentions. He'd turned up in Quepos a few years back to fish for marlin and had ended up bankrolling a modest little business in partnership with a local. Good for him. But what blew me away was that when he gave out orders to the "worker bees" he had to first tell his partner in English, who then passed along the directives in Spanish. He owned and ran a business there and knew absolutely no Spanish… and was proud of it!

Ok… I'm done ranting for a while.

Come back April 25 (Monday) for part 2 of Costa Rica: The national park system, more Quepos, heavenly white sand beaches, Monteverde, volcanoes, a bit of history-- and more!

Until then……

Hasta luego,

Peace,

-------------Eddie/Eduardo

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