COSTA RICA -- TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS ON

 

~ A MANZANILLO MORNING ~

We have always loved our adventures in Costa Rica.  We first came in October 1997 with our friend Jen on a nine-day self-guided tour complete with car (Suzuki Sidekick), airline tickets, hotel reservations in San Jose, and lovely places to stay in Monteverde, Manuel Antonio and Arenal National Parks.  

Even though it was the rainy season, we had sunny or cloudy days and rainforest downpours at night.  We slid down a hillside road of mud in our Suzuki.  We walked the newly opened suspension bridge at Monteverde, eye level with howler monkeys and birds -- so many birds.  We sat by the road at the Arenal Volcano at dusk and didn't see much action until we started to drive away. Then the volcano sent up plumes of smoke, ash and a trickle of red, red lava.  

We saw quetzels and scarlet macaws.  At Manuel Antonio the howler monkeys bounded by our second floor room at dawn and we all leapt out of bed.  Squirrel monkeys danced through the treetops and big iguanas paraded around the small pool.  The local guides introduced us to cloud forest ecology and later, tropical forests on the Pacific Ocean.  The local people sold us good fruit and locally created crafts, and they told lots of stories, some true and some maybe not so...

 Monteverde National Park:  Walking the New Suspension Bridge with Jen and Samuel

Costa Rica and its principles of No Standing Army, its emphasis on Education, and the overall commitment to the protection of the Environment inspired us to come and learn year after year.  Barry, the biology teacher and photographer, and I, the writer, teacher and anthropologist, brought back stories and slide shows for our community. We spoke at schools and libraries.  It was a rich, rewarding time in our lives.

We followed our friends' suggestions to go to Drake Bay on the Pacific Coast and travel south towards Corcovado National Park.  Remote and reached by a combination of small plane, the back of a truck, onto a boat at Sierpe and out into the Pacific Ocean where we had to traverse the waves and hope the captain was experienced -- or maybe even a pirate, we found kindred folks at Puerto Marenco, a small family-run lodge.

The Pacific Ocean

   

Over the years, we revisited the people of Punta Marenco -- Maroto, guide, carpenter, wise man;  Oscar and his family; Carlos, the man who taught us the birds of Costa Rica... and so much more at the lodge and throughout the area.  These were the times when we walked under almond trees surrounded by scarlet macaws.  There were few, if any, cruise ships and at times, more scientists than tourists at the Corcovado ranger stations.

Now, twenty-seven years later, we feel incredibly grateful we traveled to Costa Rica when we did.  We hiked long and tiring trails to be rewarded by hidden waterfalls and swimming.  The rainforest was alive with birdsong and insects.  Each day we were out, we saw different kinds of monkeys, spiders, small mammals like agoutis and so many frogs, lizards, snakes.  Pelicans flew in long V's against a backdrop of cliffs covered by massive trees and vegetation.  We snorkeled at Canos Island and later saw relics of peoples gone by.  

It felt truly as if we were in paradise, where there were more shades of green than we had words for... and the wren with fourteen voices sang.  And the majority of tourist places were small, friendly and run by local families.

We traveled many places during our lives.  Peru.  Ecuador.  The Galapagos Islands.  Kenya.  Scotland.  England.  Indonesia.  Nepal.  Dominican Republic.  We always visited schools and gathered experiences in the natural places each country set aside for protection.  Canada.  Bali. Switzerland.  Alaska. Costa Rica.

And little by little, we have watched how "progress" moves into special places.  Drake Bay now has a modern airport with its sights on international travelers coming to all-inclusive resorts, no longer owned by the local folks... more like parts of global corporations.  The tour ships send zodiacs loaded with passengers to walk the paths of Corcovado in lines of 50 people or more.  It's unfair to the passengers, the guides, the animals and the reputation of this wild, biologically diverse place in the world.  Whoever plans these itineraries have never stepped foot on the ground here, or the plans (of course) put money first, environmental protection last, and tourist surveys are like, "who cares?".

But we have continued to explore and found ourselves on the Caribbean side of the country.  

 

Yawning Two-toed Sloth

Here in Cahuita, Punta Uva and Manzanillo, we enjoy the beaches, a reggae culture, national parks and new wildlife -- two-toed sloths, great green macaws and an amazing night with leatherback turtles, as big as Volkswagen Beetles, who dug the holes and buried their eggs on the same beaches of their own hatching. It was a gift to be there that night to witness one of nature's ancient rituals of migration and regeneration of the species.

 

Howler Monkey - Great Voices of the Forest

Caribbean food, music and people!  Animal refuge and rescue organizations.  Best of all -- a family-run "ecovillage" where we find lush rainforest, a path to the beach, a cabina complete with cooking facilities and a funky little town for food, groceries, music, local people and the national park.

 

 

So, this brings me back to the photograph at the beginning of this blog.  I am only two weeks returned from our latest trip, the first after four years of COVID and the pandemic. I have so much to reflect upon. Sitting there on the open deck, surrounded by thick, lush greenery, I fell into a rhythm of life that still feels restorative.

 

We had left New Hampshire in gray skies, snow showers and mud.  The brilliant sunlight and colors here enveloped me.  The heat slowed me.  I sat with my maps and journals, sipping rich Costa Rican coffee.  I simply read or wrote or watched the hermit hummingbird dip nectar from the nearby heliconia blossoms. I didn't know (or wonder) what the time was or even the day.  I was there, in the present moment, and I needed nothing more.

I have read and practiced being "present" and in the "present moment" for many years.  My good philosophers say it is the Way.  I can't change the past and I cannot predict the future.  There is only Now.   And here I am.

Yet I am deeply saddened by the changes I see in the world of today.  It's our first international trip in four years.  Much has altered -- and I don't seem to fit well with these changes.  

Travel (and Life) has always required an open mind, flexibility, a sense of good humor and the ability to adapt to new situations.  That said, the changes I object to are not related to individual countries. I object to the insidious spread of technology -- smart phones, AI deciding what's available, and our human addiction to "the phone".

I watched people -- young, old, different nationalities -- walk the beach with eyes on the small screens in their hands, ignoring the beauty around them.  Others stood in the waves taking selfies.  Once caught by the waves, they leapt out of the water, cursing not their own bad judgment, but the water.  It seems the urge to capture ourselves spread-eagle, hanging over railings or other dangerous places outweighs anything else that might be noteworthy.

 

Some changes stem from COVID days and we seem to have kept them on. There are hotels that require phones to check in, doing away with the personal greeting at the traditional front desk.  Banks have cut back on personal money exchange, instead pointing to the ATMs outside buildings.  National parks can be too popular and require tickets and timed entries.  

 

It takes time to enjoy the rhythm of a place and its people -- exactly what our new world ignores.  Stay one night and move on.  Move fast!  Lose patience over simple things.  Get angry.  Complain loudly.

 

This is Costa Rica, too.

But overall, I struggle with the grave changes in the world's climate.  Four years ago, this part of Costa Rica suffered flooding that eroded mountainsides and beach fronts.  Today the local people recount three years of drought and trouble with their crops.  Everyone spoke of the serious effects of weather and climate change on their home communities.

Even Costa Rica, a country that leads in preservation of its wild places and creatures, has given way to the call for adventure travel into pristine areas and action-packed packages infringing on the wild.

The price we pay in this new world order is too expensive for me.  I'm talking about the loss of people-to-people relationships, diversity of local cultures and products, time to absorb and enjoy new experiences, understanding of the people and places we visit, and most importantly, protected areas where human activity does not have the rights to trample the creatures, water, trees, plants and natural resources of a country or a community.

 

It's political.  It's personal.  It takes thought and courage to admit what we are doing now -- in the present time -- is as destructive as all-out war on ourselves and the living planet. 

 

Beauty is not enough. Neither is "contained pollution" and "limited nuclear" and "just one more coal-burning factory." Staying a victim  -- "what can I do?" -- is no longer enough.  Neither is hearing from hypocrites, liars, bullies and wimps.

Humans have never solved this problem of:  "What is Enough." 

...Maybe we could at the very least work together and try...

                                                                  

The Endangered Great Green Macaw