Travel Blog

Across Costa Rica in 8….uhhhhh…..12 hours

By George Ellard ⋅ April 15, 2008 ⋅  Email this post ⋅  Print this post ⋅ Post a comment

Our story begins on the Pacific coast of the Guanacaste Province of Costa Rica. Some of our readers may remember the final portion of this trip described in one of my previous posts (please read: “Why Red is the International…”). After having spent a wonderful 3 days on what I consider one of the most beautiful beaches I have seen (Flamingo Beach) we prepared ourselves for an 8 hour journey the evening prior to our departure with an absolutely sumptuous meal.

Our whole group (which included my girlfriend and myself, my best friend Patrick and his new Costa Rican girlfriend whom we had just met) was fully aware of the difficulties involved in attempting to make the trek from the Pacific to the Atlantic in one drive. Thus, we decided it would be nice to treat ourselves to some luxurious dining the day before the big journey began. What we did not expect from this meal was to encounter one of those rare and precious moments in a lifetime, where everything in your life seems truly perfect. We ate the most magnificent seafood imaginable as we sat by the beautiful beach under the night’s sky and listened to the waves come crashing into the shore in a wonderful cadence, creating a peaceful ambience for our evening together. What’s more is that some of the culinary delights we were enjoying were on the house as my good friend Patrick explained to the waiter that we represented a Costa Rican travel service provider… nothing like corporate patronage, Costa Rican style!

And now for my end of the proverbial bargain through a shameless plug for this place… if anyone is ever in Brazalito, a sleepy town on the coast just north of Tamarindo in between Flamingo Beach and Tamarindo, you must visit El Camaron Dorado. Be prepared for the prices. They are certainly not typically Costa Rican. But I can state with absolute certainty that it is well worth the added expense. The quality of seafood served, its presentation, the charm of the waiters and the fact that you are literally sitting on the beach under the stars as you indulge in these delectable’s, more than makes up for the rather hefty bill that follows this unforgettable meal (Again, I need to re-iterate, the price is hefty by Costa Rican standards… this quality of meal would run anyone in a developed Western country in the hundreds of dollars per couple… we paid much less than half that price).

Needless to say, love and romance was definitely in the air for our two couples as we walked back along the beach to our resort and we went to bed with filled stomachs and anxious hearts for the day that was to come. The next morning, we got up as the sun rose (6 am for those that have not travelled to any equatorial countries), packed up our car and headed out for the trip back around *Arenal Lake (a must for anyone who appreciates beautiful sights… ok so a must for everyone*). Having been asked to take over driving duties after we stopped for breakfast was certainly interesting as I reminisced back to my last driving experience in Costa Rica just a over a year ago. I remembered with a chuckle being stuck in the middle of nowhere with an unleaded gasoline-filled, diesel SUV gas tank (please read: “What can happen…” for this interesting tidbit of a story). The post-breakfast part of our journey should have signalled events to come as the car would not start. We found ourselves pushing our car down the main road of a pueblito (Costa Rican for a small town that almost surely would not show up on any map) to get the engine to finally fire.

Obviously the vehicles owner, my best friend Patrick`s girlfriend, was slightly concerned. Strangely enough the car was only a few years old and although, as evidenced by my troubles at Costa Rican gas stations, I am by no means a mechanic, everything else seemed to be in perfect working order.

In case you have not guessed, I am foreboding our impending doom. Well, that perhaps is slightly melodramatic, but as I remember it, our doom as it were, began with another type of one of “life’s moments”: where time seems to stand still. As I drove through the arid desert-like climate of Guanacaste during the dry season and attempted to negotiate some of the highways pot holes at 80 km/h, I noticed something quite strange. Along one of the better roads I have driven in this country I watched as this flatter portion of Costa Rica actually provides for a slight mirage like effect. This became even more apparent as suddenly I noticed a massive Guanacaste tree branch (this normally beautiful tree is the province`s namesake). With a vehicle in the opposite left lane on-coming and the impending potential of yet another Costa Rican ditch incident my only other option to the right (again, see my “What can happen…” story), the aforementioned “moment” had arrived. I quickly decided an attempt to stop the vehicle before the enormous tree branch was my best choice. Slamming on the breaks and putting the clutch down I managed to bring the car to a stop within perhaps a foot of the large branch… phew! The strange part about stopping the car in this way is that the engine stalled (I could have swore I had the clutch all the way down). I could see the concern in Pat’s girlfriend’s eyes as I attempted to start the car again. Apparently Costa Rican manual transmissions need to be geared down even when slamming on the breaks (my unending and most sincere apologies again Georgia for my weak driving skills).

This whole episode put a little damper in our cross country adventure. Although we could eventually start the car again, the uncertainty of driving in the rural regions of a third world country with a vehicle that had stalled twice in the same day did not appeal to anyone, especially the vehicle’s owner… it was after all, her car (and no, they don’t have AAA or CAA here, I asked). So we found a small mechanics shop in the next town and stopped to see what we could find out about the vehicle’s conditions.

First let me clarify, by a mechanics shop I mean a couple of Costa Rican dudes working on some cars next to a little shack like shelter to protect from the elements while they did their work. Pat’s girlfriend Georgia engaged herself in a conversation with the mechanic about the troubles we had been having with the car and asked them what they thought. They said that it sounded like a problem with the battery as they inspected the engine. Patrick meanwhile got increasingly frustrated as he felt it had nothing to do with the battery, and that the recharging of the battery they were proposing would essentially be a waste of our time. I agreed as Patrick has a tendency to be right about these things. So I sat back, kept my mouth shut and feared the worst as we waited for the mechanics to do their work.

Patrick’s frustration would only grow as an American ex-pat turned rural Costa Rican local walked up to us and tried to explain to us what was wrong with our car. The American quickly transitioned the conversation to explaining his life’s story, which neither of us were interested in, nor in the mood for. As an aside on this topic: I have a couple of quick questions to all American`s (or “Gringos’’ as they are known here) who decide move to Costa Rica. Firstly let me clarify, as I am not talking to those that decide they will teach or live in Costa Rica for a while. Rather my query is only to those who actually decide to make their move permanent. My questions: Why do you, as an American living in Costa Rica, feel the necessity to boast to other Westerners (or Americans/Canadians rather) about the life in Costa Rica? Or how old you are and how young your Costa Rican wife is for that matter? Or even how well you were doing while in the US but that you just couldn’t live there anymore because of: a) George W. Bush, b) the society going to crap, c) the quality of life being worse in the US than in the more laid back Costa Rica. And lastly how every time you go back to the States you realize just how smart you are for having made that fateful decision one fine day upon discovering the wonder this country had to offer.

Now, I know many reading this may be thinking that the stereotypical Americans are normally quite arrogant in any case. I have heard this many times, even from close friends of mine, and I have never personally ascribed to that viewpoint. I am Canadian and I feel that Americans, with respect to personality or arrogance, are quite similar to Canadians. You can find some arrogant ones, just as you find arrogant Canadians occasionally. But generally speaking, I find Americans to be genuine and wonderful people whether you meet them in their hometown or travelling through Europe. And yet, for whatever reason, the ones I have met living in Costa Rica are very boastful and ignorant, thinking they have discovered some hidden treasure in Costa Rica that others just aren’t smart enough to understand. Believe me, we understand. That`s why most people who travel to Costa Rica go back a second and third time, and maybe more after that. So please don’t come to me in Costa Rica and tell me that in no uncertain terms I am an idiot if don’t decide to make the same amazing decision to move down that you did, thank you very much. I, like many others who have fallen in love with this beautiful land, have other things to consider when we decide to move a continent away from our families, spouses, loved ones, friends, not to mention jobs and other business interests. And no amount of talk about the 18 year old wife you hooked up with when you moved down here is going to entice me any more than the things I truly appreciate about this country, like its people, its natural beauty and the obligatory Church and Soccer pitch in every single charming and unique town can.

Back to the story now… As I sat there waiting for the car to have its battery charged (which Pat was right it didn’t need to be charged) and contemplated the American`s proposal to go to back his place for a fiesta, where his 18 year old wife and their daughters could prepare us a feast (hey, he was still a nice guy after all!), a scary thought suddenly came to mind: it was already the afternoon, we had another three quarters of the journey to go and no accommodations really booked on the Atlantic coast.

We thereby negotiated with the mechanic and advised him that we would not pay him for the battery charge as it didn’t help our cause, gave him a tip of 5000 Colones instead (about ten bucks) and decided we would tempt fate with the car. Sure enough we made it across the country in close to 12 hours instead of the usual 8. Although we ended up arriving at dusk, we were all in one piece, safe and sound and ready to start our quest to find a place to sleep. In case you’re wondering, the only problem with the vehicle at the end of this lengthy and fun filled trip was the headlights that decided they would not turn off.

Next time we rent!!