The Flight
Leaving Denver and departing for Costa Rica was one of the neatest moments I’ve had.
That exhilarating feeling of the unknown… and a road less traveled knocking at our doorstep. Leaving at midnight left us with very little to see as we constantly peered out the window for the nearest metropolitan area, slightest glimmer of light, or spec of civilization. Nothing in sight…leaving us with only a quiet sense of adventure. Maybe a sense of peace for those returning home?

Is that day break? The watch read 4:30 a.m. and the lightest hues of orange, red, and blue began to be seen to the east. Little did we know we were almost there, and had slept through the announcement of our descent. At 4:45, and a cruising altitude less than 20,000 feet – the beautiful landscape of Costa Rica was upon us. Mountainous terrain, lush with green foliage, peaks and valleys, and the scattering of lights in condensed regions – we were there. Our phones were dead so unfortunately no photos could be taken. By 5:05 a.m. we had landed, obtained our coveted Costa Rican passport stamps, and were on our way to accomplish today’s single task… how in the hell do we get 262km (163 miles) to Tamarindo?

Cabs and Buses
Even at 5:45 in the morning,  we were surprised at the number of anxious taxi cab drivers awaiting their potential customers. No doubt spotting “los gringos nuevos” (new Gringos, Americans) by our REI apparel and sun hats, we were approached by a gentleman eager to help. He spoke some English, and was impressed we could speak (or I could) a toddler’s (ok, maybe grade school kid’s) worth of Spanish. We were a bit confused as to needing a taxi ride – as our literature showed buses would be by the airport at 8:45 to pick us up (getting us in to Tamarindo around 2:00pm).

We took the gentleman’s advice however, had our luggage stowed in the trunk of a small car and negotiated our fare of ($35) to get from Alajuela (where the airport is actually located) to San Jose. The word on the street is correct, and the people are friendly, outgoing and appreciative of you doing business (or even acknowledging) them.

After a tour of San Jose – and a stop at “el Banco CR” to get some colones (col-on-es) we arrived at the bus station where we purchased our tickets to Santa Cruz. Our driver told us to simply hop buses from Santa Cruz to Tamarindo once we arrived. It sounded legit – so we paid our amigos, took some advice on my Spanish speaking skills, and bid them farewell. After a short hour, and a hot cup of coffee, we were loaded onto a bus and headed toward the mountains. For those who’ve seen the movie ‘Romancing the Stone’ – it was absolutely essential to hang on the bus, yell ‘Hotel Cartagena’ and pretend we were chasing down ‘El Corazon’…. fan-freakin-tastic! Is that Danny Devito?!

Bus Ride – Mountainous Countryside of Costa Rica

Bus Ride – Cowboy (perhaps Goucho) on Horse – Costa Rica

Bus Ride – San Jose to Santa Cruz Costa Rica – Mountains & Land

Surprise at Santa Cruz
After nearly four hours, a bathroom break at a small store with snacks in the middle of nowhere, and near 95 degree temperatures on a bus with no air conditioning (a Daewoo bus no less) we arrived in Santa Cruz. Our bus trip took us up and through a giant mountain, through some dense foliage, cattle farms, desert like areas and eventually to this  small town, bustling with kids enjoying their lunch break. It should come as no surprise to anyone that the cities, towns, and infrastructure in Costa Rica is NOTHING like in the United States. Dirt or gravel roads are common, buildings and plots of land are not evenly spaced out, schools are fenced in with six foot high barb wire lined fencing, and people generally do not keep up their properties and homes like their obsessively compulsive North American neighbors. Perhaps this is part of the “Pur Vida” (pure life) mentality practiced by Ticos (locals of Costa Rica). Probably good reason we don’t see investments from Lowes, Menards, or Home Depots here either.

After arriving at the bus station in Santa Cruz – we were informed separate tickets were needed to get to Tamarindo (bummer). We kind of figured waiting around for the bus at the airport might have been a better idea – and possibly the most direct route – but I guess we’ll chalk that one up to “gringo nuevo” thinking. We negotiated a cab ride instead (more expensive however it would get us into our place by 12:30 p.m. instead of after 3). Our driver was over fifty and didn’t know a lick of English, but my Spanish skills prevailed and after an hour we found ourselves in the beach and surfing community of Tamarindo. Within minutes we met Alejandra (our contact from the property management company) and were checked into our beautiful hacienda.

Our Hacienda – Our Bathroom – Costa Rica

Our Hacienda – Our Kitchen – Costa Rica

Our Hacienda – The Pool at Night – Costa Rica

Time Traveling – But Not What You Think
After getting our stuff settled in – it was time to hit the beach. You’d think after 24 hours of traveling, we’d been exhausted. Simply not the case. The beaches were gorgeous – something right out of the scenes of Jurassic Park – crashing waves, brown sand, surrounded by mountains and foliage in the distance – with a dash of “haze” from the Pacific Ocean.

A storm was on its way – so we decided drinks were in order at the local Beach Club. One thing about the beaches of Tamarindo – they’re loaded with vendors. Whether you’re looking for some jet skis, horses to ride, sport fishing, surfing lessons, massages, or some 420 (yes, I said 420) – everything’s at your fingertips. We settled on some Cohibas instead. $10 a stick at the local stores here, $30 a stick in the Caribbean, or less than $2.50 a stick by this guy – I knew we had ourselves a bargain… so did Brian (and surprisingly, so did Meghan!).

Meghan and Cohibas – Look Out! Ok, just kidding but she’s even adorable with stogies…

The official seal on the corner, the “Hecho en Havana Cuba” burned into the box, and their oh-so-smooth flavor and aroma solidified our notion of them being legit. Besides – a trip to Costa Rica without a proper cigar would be a cardinal sin (at least one would think).

What seemed to be an entire afternoon – took the span of 90 minutes. The pace of life, time, and “buzz of the world” here is nothing but serene. The sounds of tropical birds, the ocean crashing in rhythmic harmony, a Pilsen to sip on, and a Cohiba to puff on – Teddy Roosevelt (grandfather of eco-tourism according to some) knew what was good for people. When going to places like this – it’s not about what you find here, but what you don’t find.

Pur vida mi amigos, pur vida.

Tune in Tomorrow – Grocery Shopping, Chorizo Criollo Tacos, and Picture of the Beach…