Another day, another country ... Costa Rica

Our entrance into Costa Rica couldn’t be any more low key. We get off the local bus from David at the border town which is a cross street of ramshackle shops full of vendors, taxi drivers and buses; but with no clear cut information about the actual border posts. As it happens we stumble across the Panama immigration counter and realise that we need to get an exit stamp. It takes us another 5 minutes before we can find a policeman to ask where the CR immigration post is. There is no-one at the counter windows apart from one woman who waits until we get to her window and then markedly turns, picks up the phone and ignores us! Someone eventually deigns to take our passports and we are now legal. We realise that it would have been quite possible to leave Panama and enter Costa Rica (and/or vice versa) without the necessary stamps as no-one was checking or really keeping an eye on who was crossing where - something which would create enormous difficulties later on if our documents had ever been checked. It is no wonder that they have a problem with illegal immigrants in both countries.

Although a helpful border guard tells us that it would be better to walk back 800 yards in the blazing sun with our backpacks etc. to the main bus stop, we flag the first bus that is passing and it stops with no problem at all. We head to Neily about 35 km away where we can take the local bus to our next planned stop.

The rains have come early this year …

… it’s not really due to rain until the end of April but it started 1 hour after we crossed the border. Luckily we were on the bus at the time because it was typically tropical - very BIG rain drops and LOTS of them. It is particularly apt though as the terrain is so much more tropical than it had been in Panama. The road winds slowly through untamed forest with small, basic wooden-framed houses dotted along the road.

The buses here have those windows that slide across at the top - so everyone plays musical windows when it rains as you have to close the window when it is raining but then open it again as soon as you think it has stopped because the bus just heats up like a sauna when the windows are shut. The added bonus is that the buses are so old and have been shaken so badly by the APPALLING roads here that the windows all leak in any case! Gone are the days of air conditioned coaches - welcome to the local bone rattlers.

So, top traveller’s tip for today; if you take a Costa Rican bus don’t sit near the window.

One bus takes us on the main road to Neily and then we change to a bus that will take us down the Osa Peninsular. Once we turn off the main road we are left with 50 km to go, which should be easy enough you'd think. Ha, Ha, Ha. The road down the coast is little more than a half-made loose stone track. The Costa Ricans are obviously updating it because there are bulldozers and diggers working all around. Each of the bridges are being redone - which is just as well given the rusting, warped steel ones that are still in place. Both Brett and I anxiously hold our breath each time we trundle noisily over each bridge - of course it is unnecessary, but you never know.

We find it amazing that such roads are the main arteries of a country. Both here and in Panama there was the sense that they redo each road along its entire length rather than do it section by section - so the whole journey is an endurance test of the vehicle's suspension and gearbox plus our balance, teeth fillings, bottoms and arm sockets as we try to stay upright over the really bumpy bits. It is so haphazard and basic that we feel that we are driving back through time, not just to another town. It takes us 2 hours to travel the 50 km and, joy of joys, it starts to pour with rain 10 minutes before we get into town - so we have to get off and dash for the nearest shelter before we can find our ponchos and cover our packs so that we can go and find somewhere to stay. It is nearly dark and we can't wait out the rain as it doesn't look like it will lift anytime soon.

We have taken the bus to a small coastal town called Puerto Jimenez, which turns out to be a two street town that is positively frontier-like. Lots of low wooden buildings and very dusty, loose stone streets.

Apparently it was a gold town in the way back whens and it has definitely retained its rough and ready ambience. There were two main bars for the locals which were particularly riotous. Drinking starts at any time of the day for a group of hard core regulars - who are as easy to spot here as they are in any given place. A new twist here is that the bars’ evening gigs revolve around spectacularly bad Karaoke! Give one of these Ticos a microphone and they really give it all they’ve got. It doesn’t even seem that they are trying to be any good - just having themselves a belter of an evening. At least they aren't murdering the old english language classics - just the Latin American ones.






























The next day we are keen to head out for a quick dip and end up in the bay that is so calm and warm that you would think you were in a lake rather than the sea. There are two, apparently resident, Macaws screeching in one of the trees overhead. They are very beautiful but don’t half make a racket.

We plan to hire a couple of bikes so that we can explore a bit further down the coast, in the hope that we will find a beach with some waves, but events conspire against us. The first day it is raining by the time we get ourselves together enough to go out so we just hang out, catch up with the blog and internet etc. The second day the rental bike place is locked when we get there so we think we have missed the opening hours or something. We head to the local beach again - it is earlier in the day this time and the tide is in which makes it a different experience than the other day. Also, it is the weekend and the local families and their children are now on the beach. It is great to be able to see Costa Rican (aka Tico) day to day living.

This boy and his friends had found a big log in the water and were having a great time in the waves with it.
















While the town is definitely geared up to cater to tourists there are still a lot of other businesses and normal family life going on.

If anyone is interested in putting in an offer for this place, do let us know and we can make the call !!!










Life appears to be lived at a fairly sedate pace here. The fact that it is very, very hot probably has something to do with this. One of the things that makes me chortle is how most of the men walk and sit around with their T-shirts rolled up from their bellies to try to cool themselves off - and believe me, their bellies have been well fed for some time now. Joking aside, I suspect that CR has a very high incidence of obesity and diabetes if the size of both the men and women’s girths is any indication. However, given their VERY high carbohydrate and sugar diets it is no surprise. The typical Tico meal generally includes rice, corn flour in some form or other (tortilla, bread, cake, fried corncake), fried beans, fried or stewed meat, or fried fish with a very sweet flan for dessert. Even breakfast involves at least 2 carbs and 1 fried element. It takes some effort to eat healthily as even the fruit drinks are heaped with sugar (OK this does make them very, very delicious).

We passed these two little children munching quite happily on their watermelon. Unlike their Boquete counterparts in Panama, this little boy knew exactly what to do when I asked if I could take his picture - and gave me a big cheesy grin. The original, unposed, picture that I wanted was a lot better, but I suppose it still tells a story.

We finally manage to get hold of a couple of bikes on Sunday (it turns out the family who run the bike rental have had a family emergency and the neighbours who are supposed to be keeping an eye on the business obviously weren’t doing a very good job of it!) and head off into the heat towards the beach. It is a peculiar phenomenon that when you don’t really know where you are going things seem much further away. As we have found the maps to be less than accurate it is hard to know if we are on the right road and it seems that we are winding inland which worries Brett. Also, the road is little more than a very bumpy, dusty track of loose stones and it is far from a pleasant amble down a country lane. I am fairly confident that we are on the right road but Brett is suffering in the heat and is just about ready to turn back when the road finally bears left towards the sea. In hindsight we have probably only cycled a few miles but it seems much, much further.

The beach, when we get there, is really beautiful. It is around the bend from the gulf so there are some lovely waves - and it is really warm. We come across a thatched shelter with two deck chairs that probably belongs to a local hotel, but no-one is using it so we decide to chance our arm and install ourselves very comfortably. We spend a lovely afternoon here and are glad that we made the effort after all. The ride back goes much more quickly - in part this is because there are some very ominous rain clouds coming towards us and we are anxious not to get caught on this road in the pouring rain.

There was a small, fairly new hotel on the beach and they had planted quite a nice little garden that will be really lovely when it has matured a little more. They had planted 5 or 6 new pineapple palms and I was surprised to see them sprouting just one pineapple each at the top. I hadn't seen this before.

Tomorrow we have an early start as we are braving the local buses to Drake’s Bay on the other side of the peninsular.