At long last, on the 24th, Ms. Libby arrived for her visit! After scooping her up from the airport, we spent two days getting to know our charming Austrian roommate and waiting on her luggage (!) to arrive from Chicago. As anyone who has spent time in Costa Rica will tell you, San Jose is best looked at as a place to pass through on your way to somewhere more beautiful. So when Libby´s suitcase finally made an appearance, we left right away for somewhere more interesting - the Caribbean Coast!
Separated both physically and culturally from the rest of Costa rica for most of its history [a concise version of the history
here], the Caribbean Coast is regarded by many Ticos as strange and sometimes sketchy. I heard many a time as I mentioned my desire to visit that I should consider going elsewhere - by people who had never been. Now that I
have been there, I can happily report that this xenophobic attitude, like most, is best disregarded.
As we bused to Puerto Viejo from breezy San José, we were slowly wrapped in more and more heat and humidity. By the time we stepped off the bus in town, I was dripping. But we were there! Puerto Viejo is an interesting place. One of the main landmarks seems to be a rusted out barge type thing sitting in the beach with a tree growing on it. Unique, perhaps, but not what I would put on a postcard. In general, the town has a laid back, keep-it-slow-and-chill vibe, overlaid by a new and somewhat cheesy tourist scene. Most of the vendors I spoke to were quick to tell me the story of how drastically the scene has changed there since roads began improving and buses started dropping off tourists, lamenting new ugly cement buildings and what they saw as overdevelopment. The usual tension between more commerce as a plus and changing ways of life as a minus were obvious here. I also heard from every local I spoke to, though, a love for the place that I hope will ensure a healthy future for the area.
Our first day, Libby and I attempted to adjust to the new climate. We wandered the beach for a bit, ate some very necessary ice cream, and flopped in the shade at our hostel. But by day two we were ready for adventure. We grabbed some picnic lunch supplies from the supermarket, rented some pushbikes, and set off down the road. South of town, a well traveled path opens in the trees just beyond the beach, and we wheeled our way slowly along the coast, absolutely surrounded by little purple and orange crabs who ducked out of the way in the last second as we passed.
Costa Rican beaches are protected by a law pohibiting development within a certain distance to the water, and I was more grateful than ever for this law as Libby and I wove through the protective barrier between the water and the road. At any point, we could simply pop over to the beach on our left, or a restaurant serving up cold drinks on our right. In the meantime, we took in the trees, vines, crabs, and coconuts. It had been a long time since I´d biked at all, and it felt just right for the first time in a long time to be with another NOLA transplant, on a cruiser - even if we were trading potholes for roots.
