JP's around the world adventure: Costa Rrrrrica!

Welcome to San José International airport. Where am I? I think the plane must have landed in the United States... did I book a flight to the wrong San José?

The airport looked like a US airport. Fast food left, right and center. Even the taxi driver that will take me to the hostel speaks Spanish with a gringo accent. Many Ticos do this because it is apparently considered cool. It sounds very amusing, a native Spanish speaker with an American accent.

I spend a night in San José, go to the mall to withdraw cash and I cannot help notice that every young person in sight has a piercing and often in the weirdest places. One guy had a piercing on his cheek! In Brazil lots of people had tattoos, it is considered normal and acceptable for people from all walks of life: lawyers, doctors, diplomats. In San José body piercings are the fad.

The following morning I wake up very very early without a reason and don't manage to fall asleep again, I subsequently head to the airport and catch a small propeller plane to Tambor airport... the flight is short and in no time we are starting our descent. The scenery is stunning, lush islands in an emerald sea. They look like the landscapes out of the Jurassic Park movie. The plane flies lower and lower... where is the tarmac?! We are approaching a small landing strip that is barely paved. The runway is in the middle of the jungle and right off a gorgeous beach.

Where is the airport? There is no terminal, no buildings. Someone built a small laminated roof and installed two pay phones. There are taxi drivers waiting to rip off the gringos. With no other option in sight I surrender and agree to make the short drive for an extortionate price. The roads are not tarred and it soon turns out that perhaps the price was not that bad after all because it does take almost an hour to get to the village of Santa Teresa. The rainy season has just finished and the taxi driver points out the damage that a recent storm did to the region, entire sections of the mountains have crumbled onto the road. It must have taken them weeks to clean the roads. There still are fallen trees all over the place.

I am staying in a cute apartment on the “main” road, a quick walk to the beach. There are iguanas, squirrels, parakeets and monkeys all over the place. The iguanas look like mini dinosaurs but are totally harmless and are amazingly good tree climbers. The monkeys are very naughty apparently and are known to steal all kinds of stuff left laying around.

My friend Bob the Iguana likes to hang out on the thorny tree in the garden

home

I bought all the basic necessities: a surf board, tropical wax, a silly looking tourist hat to avoid terminal sunburn while surfing and some groceries. I try to wake up at 5:50 a.m. In order to catch some uncrowded waves. Dawn patrol, the early surfer gets the waves. I surfed 4 hours yestarday morning and 3 hours this morning, my shoulders and neck are screaming in pain “why do you have to do this to us???!!!”. The waves are amazing in the mornings, very fast and hollow, with off-shore winds and hardly any surfers out. The landscape is breathtaking while surfing, the vegetation is so thick that I cannot even see the buildings... just millions of palm trees. Beware of the falling coconuts! I like the fact that the main road is not paved, it encourages people to drive slowly and take it easy. The only disappointment so far is that I haven't really met any Ticos. The apartment I am staying in is owned by Nico, a very nice guy from Italy, the surf shop across the street is also Italian owned, the restaurant right next to it is Argentine. I don't know where the Ticos are hiding, but there are plenty of Israelis, Italians, Argentinians and Americans. As a matter of fact I think there are no Israelis left in Israel, they must have all moved to Costa Rica.