To skip
right to the photo album, clic aquí
(Still trying to figure out my flash player settings, so at the bottom of
this page is short video that starts immediately.. learning curves are painful)
Costa Rica 2009
In July of 2009, my friend Billy and I took a trip to Costa Rica. We landed in San Jose, stayed at this cute little place called Casa 69 (it really is #69 - nothing sexual here) We got in about 11:00pm and the owner Kurt checked us in, showed us to our room, poured us numerous rum and cokes and entertained us until 2:00am. At last recollection Billy was challenging him to a free nights lodging if Kurt's cock was smaller. ( I really don't know what's in Nicaraguan Rum, but don't get into a cock measuring contest with a 57 year old german guy ) Starving, we asked him where we could get some food. anything. Kurt directed us down the road to Super Ham, 300 meters away. ( everything appears to be 300 meters away, and down railroad tracks) Armed with a few colones and rum fueled bravado we set out in search of casada. We find the only illuminated building. Locked. The workers dozing behind the counter. We wake them and they let us in, and then lock the door behind us, clearly an indication of the wholesomeness of the neighborhood. $2.50 gets you one of their combos with papas fritas. Not great but definitely hit the spot at 2:00 am. On the walk home some crazy drunk dude staggers over to us yelling "my friend, my friend" and asked for a cigarello, glancing at me and then quickly asking Billy, "Is he your papa?" hmm.
Next day, our rental 4x4 arrives, Gustavo is a stud. While packing up the car some random approaches and calls out "my friend, my friend" and asked for a cigarello, glancing at me and then quickly asking Billy, "Is he your papa?"
Do they really think that line actually works?
Driving
in Costa Rica
While someone had taken meticulous care in assigning every alley, boulevard
and avenida a name on a map, actually putting up a sign seemed to have been
something quite unnecessary. When getting directions in San Jose, it usually
consists of "go down to the railroad tracks, turn left - make a right
at the third flower shop and go just past the hardware store with the big
red walls". And if there is a sign, like "Alto" - it's totally
optional. Single lane bridges with a sign "Ceda" are followed purely
at the discretion of the driver. And in the case of the one and only sign
telling you that Puerto Viejo is to the left, and oh Panama is straight ahead
- someone has crashed into it laying it flat in the jungle growth. Just to
keep everything consistent.
Friday,
Driving to Banana Azul
Usually most visitors to Costa Rica arrive in the capitol, San Jose
and then head west to the coast to see the beaches of Jaco and Manuel Antonio
National Park. Excellent choices for sure, but being the upstream swimmers
we are, we decided on a different itinerary; climb through a 5,000 foot mountain
range and descend into the banana plantations and the far less explored east
coast, ending up at a little village called Puerto Viejo. Described by some
guides as a backpacker / surfer / hippie / rasta / ganga hang out. Sounded
perfect for two non-traditionalists. Not wanting to give the impression that
Billy or myself are some kind of crazy stoners, but the surfer-euro backpacker
thing did seem appealing. Kurt had warned us though, and you'll see later
in the video, "PV is a lovely place if you want to lay on a hammock,
read a book and relax.....but nothing is going on there" Well, if you
know Billy and I , we are always up for a challenge. and dammit -we'll make
sure something DOES happen.
There is one highway - Carreta Guápiles - that takes you to the east coast.
History lesson: Historically the government of San Jose couldn't have given a shit about the east coast, early settlers were pirates, smugglers, log-cutters and their slaves. During the late 19th century, increasing numbers of afro-carribean families came to build and work the Atlantic Railroad and banana plantations of the United Fruit Company and basically let them govern the coast. That may be just my opinion, but the absolute run down and seedy looks of the largest city, Puerto Limón (Ticos call it Piedropolis - Crack City) and the numerous shack housing complexes which are owned by the fruit companies sorta back me up here. In fact that highway, Carreta Guapillas - that's a recent improvement.
After fighting our way miraculously out of the byzantine tangle of streets in down town San Jose we are safely (?) on our way to the highway of Carreta Guápiles, climbing through Braulio Carillo National Park with an accompaniment of huge Semis, Tanker Trucks and ambulances (?) and we come to a stop. (why are their so many ambulances?) Seems that a landslide has closed the highway. A long line of trucks and cars and ambulances are stopped. People are walking around. Guys are walking up and down the line of cars selling empanadas. - where the hell do these guys come from?, do they create the landslide? - We descend into Siquirres and stop for lunch, a massive affair called comida casera - for around $4 you get rice, beans, tortillas, fried plantains, grilled chicken all topped with a fried egg. YUM.
Onward we successfully get through the arm pit of the east coast, Puerto Limón, negotiate the flattened sign that tells us to turn left to head to Puerto Viejo and finally looking for a sign that tells us where our next home, Banana Azul is located. (Once again - foolish, since signs are not part of the Costa Rican Vibe)
..
..
..
After driving through the little ganga infused village of Puerto Viejo, to the end of the road, we conclude that we missed our lodging and turn around. Driving down a rain soaked, pot holed dirt road we found it. Heaven! From our second floor deck we can watch and hear the waves crashing against the beach. Looking at the clientele we are clearly the only gay guys here. Mostly young honeymooners and lesbians. But it's all good. Pura Vida right?
..
..
..
Up on our deck we are drinking local rum and decorating the railings with twinkle lights. It's a deck shared with one other room so we're imagining a kinky dutch lesbian couple - two kids walk out and introduce themselves. Straighter (really - that's his name) and his wife or girlfriend, (-something-). And they are from Fullerton, fucking down the street from me. Anyway they are fun med students at UCI. That night we have dinner at the Inn and our bartender Franklin ("I'm NOT GAY") hooks my iPOD up to the bar sound system and we listen to our Banana Azul Mix. Ynez the cook makes an incredible caribbean beef and rice. She is so sweet, she invited me into the kitchen to show me how she makes it. She's so proud to show us! I go back to the room and bring down a bottle of California wine for the kitchen and bar staff and you could tell they were so incredibly appreciative.
..
..
..
Drive
to the End of the Road
It's Saturday morning and we decide to buckle up and drive south
to Panama. Or at least as far as the coastal road will take us. We go through
Puerto Viejo, Punta Uva and the road ends at Manzanilla. It's only 30 minutes
from Banana on a dirt road but the beaches get prettier and prettier. We park
and pay this little gimpy old man 1000¢ to 'watch' our car. It's a very
nice beach. Lava out croppings, blue blue water and the occasional cute Tico.
We met one guy named Eric, a bio med student from New York with no underwear.
We walk around a little and he shows us some groovy blue crabs. Billy and
I had lunch at a cool little place called Maxi's and of course he takes a
photo of his food, and some cute boys in speedos at the bar. God love him.
Being somewhat of an experienced traveler and realizing you can't always get the things locally that you are accustomed to, I brought my own stash California wine to present as thoughtful gifts and a handle of duty free Tanquerey Gin. Our bartender Franklin is a young friendly dude and his happy to keep my gin hidden at the bar, so I end up only having to pay for mixers. So while Billy is busy uploading the days photos to his blog, I head down to the bar and write in my journal. Franklin makes me a cocktail and schools me on proper Costa Rican spanish (It's rude to say 'De Nada') and I teach him dirty words in english. We meet a young couple from North Carolina; Scott and Michelle. After we all have Ynez's fresh caught grilled ahi we relax in the spa, with Franklin pouring drinks and playing our iPOD mixes - we're getting a little drunk. The night guard makes us turn off our music, and powers off the spa. I guess some guests think that by 9:30pm you should just be in bed listening to crickets. (or whatever creatures are making all that noise) We totally respect that, besides our little cabina is separate from the main house, so we can afford to drink a little more and get a little noisier. Until Señor de la Guardia de Seguridad comes to our place to tell us to pipe down.
..
..
..
..
Rainy
Sunday
Billy has scheduled a horseriding adventure for this afternoon, but
it's really raining hard. I'm not sure he's up for the wet horse version.
He cancels his trip and we ponder our next move, but then just as quickly
it clears up. He's back in the saddle! I spend a lazy day
in the hammock reading and napping and listening to music and eventually watching
the sky just open up and rain like there's no tomorrow. Mean while some new
neighbors move in next door. Philipe from France and his girlfriend, Gaby
from Mexico. A charming couple for sure. I introduce myself and we share a
bottle of wine, watch the rain and wonder how Billy is faring. Later that
night Scott, Michelle, Philipe, Gaby, Billy and I have a great dinner in Puerto
Viejo at a restaurant called Chili Rojo. The late evening finds us in the
pool with Alfredo from the bar, and once again we make too much noise and
are asked to leave. Jeez, we're popular.
.
.
.
.
Tiera
del Fuego
After a stormy Sunday with the rain
pounding on our sheet metal roof all night, it was nice to wake up to the
sun! It's a beautiful day and I go down to get some breakfast and then wander
down to the beach. Billy is up on the deck working on his photo blog. There
is this tour to the Water Falls and the Chocolate Lady, but Billy and I figure
why pay someone to take us? We have a car, we're clever guys with a compass,
we can find it ourselves. We get some directions and head out. We drive through
a small village called Bribri and come to a "T" in the road. (No
one mentioned having to make a choice, or cited this particular landmark)
Everyone we ask points in a different direction. We decide to make a left
at the "T" and travel north for about 30 miles. Off to the side
there is a huge river valley that turns out to be the Sixaloa, which flows
from Panama to the ocean. It was really pretty nice, loads of banana plantations,
little shacks and not a soul on the road. But also no sign of a waterfall.
If we had a full tank of gas we probably would have kept driving just to see
where we would end up, but with less than a quarter tank we turn around and
go home via a rode with an alleged gas station. Colin, the owner of Banana
tells us that we can loop across back to the coast. We drive until we see
a sign that says Manazanillo Beach (and that's the beach we went to on our
first day) and "Night Viewing Turtles". We figure this is the loop
that Colin was referring to. 45 minutes down a dirt road studded with rain
filled pot holes we reach the ocean, just north of Boca del Rio Sixaloa. Exept
this road does't continue up the coast to Banana Azul, it ends here. A little
turtle research park, and not very pretty. Oh, and we are literally on the
Panamanian border.
We head all the way back down the same pot holed road, across rickety wooded bridges and make our way back to Banana. We're both exhausted. We shower and go into the village for dinner. The two highly recommended restaurants are closed, so we settle on a little place upstairs overlooking a lively street scene in Puerto Viejo. If we had more energy we would have checked it out. More entertaining though are the gheckos above us in the light fixtures feasting on bugs. I'm nearly falling asleep at the end of dinner. We come back and I collapse in the hammock while Billy gets on line. From the hammock I move to the bed and am fast asleep by 7:30. Billy hangs out with our friends from the bar and discovers huge insects. No waterfalls.
.
.
.
..
To be continued.
The Waterfall, The harrowing white knuckle trip back to San Jose, the Sauna
and the drag show at Bochinche