Manuel Antonio and Quepos

When something is being constantly hyped, it inherently runs the risk of disappointment once you actually experience it. But some places/foods/people/etc… deserve every bit of it, like New York City, watching Leonel Messi play, or eating Chipotle (especially the carnitas). Manuel Antonio is one such thing.

My uncle arrived in San Jose from D.C. Saturday afternoon and his friend Larry and I picked him up and drove down to Quepos, where Larry has a Home and Garden Magazine worthy place overlooking the harbor. When we arrived, I had to remind myself that yes, I was indeed spending the weekend here and no, it wasn't a prank. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves: http://www.casaconchita-cr.com/general/gallery.htm.

Manuel Antonio is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Costa Rica and when you get there, it's obvious why. It's a gorgeous national park filled with monkeys and other wildlife set along some amazing beaches. It’s tough to take a bad picture of the place. I didn't get to see too much of it but I plan on going back a couple of times. There's a large ex-pat community in Quepos and Manuel Antonio which means there's wonderful restaurants but also expensive prices. The secret is definitely out about this place and gringos have been snatching up land left and right, thereby inflating property values. A trend throughout Costa Rica. So much so that many ex-pat retirees are buying property in Nicaragua because they’ve been priced out of Costa Rica. Quite a few of the housing developments and high end hotels in Costa Rica look like they belong in Miami or Punta del Este.

The highlight of the weekend was renting a body board and catching 8-10 foot waves alongside the surfers. Next time I’ll have to make sure I have photographic evidence so everyone doesn’t think I’m full of it.

I flew back instead of driving and it's unbelievable how much faster it is. The drive to Quepos took 4.5 hours. There needs to be a unit of distance called the Costa Rican Kilometer (CRKM) to adequately capture the Costa Rican driving experience. Just like there's a nautical mile that is different from a regular mile, the CRKM would equal 3km and take 5-10 minutes to drive through, depending on the conditions (stuck behind a truck on a one lane bridge, navigating treacherous potholes, getting lost, blinding rain). The flight back literally took 15 minutes. I was the only one on the 12 seater so I managed to sit next to the pilots and watch them fly. Without the pilot/passenger divide the mystery of flying is reduced and the pilots are just a couple of guys that could be driving a truck which makes it scarier. I’ve also included a picture of Larry’s golden retriever Dolly and of his friend's place which is also pimpastic.

Pura Vida!

Puerto Viejo

I've been remiss in my blog posting duties so I'm a bit behind. But fear not office workers of the world, I'm going to post another entry this week in addtion to this one, ensuring you at least 5 minutes of distraction from work.

Last week Arndt (a German friend of a friend- pronounced Aunt) and I went to Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean coast. Here's the Lonely Planet description of PV: "Puerto Viejo de Talamanca is a decidedly Caribbean concoction of perfect beaches, spectacular surfing and laid-back attitude, spiced upwith the most happening music nightlife and restaurant scene on the coast. It's touristy -and more expats are moving here every year. But if you can let go of getting in touch with 'the real Costa Rica' for a moment, you'll have a blast.

As throughout the southern Caribbean coast, the Afro-Caribbean presence is strong here: locals sometimes refer to the town by its patios name 'Walaba,' and coconut-scented odors and reggae music emanate from the doorways. With the influx of foreigners, however, you might hear German or French on the streets sooner than patios. Puerto Viejo's kitchens are now turning out fantastic fusion cuisine, incorporating influences from Mexico, Italy and China."

LP's assessment is fairly accurate. I was surprised at the size of the waves at some beaches. I had never been in conditions that big or dangerous. One wave completely pummeled me, scaring the hell out of me and ripping my watch off in the process. The lack of lifeguards makes it much funner because there's nobody there to whistle you away from certain areas. Of course, there's also nobody there to save you when you're drowning and making stupid decisions.

On Saturday Arndt and I rented bikes and meandered along the coast, stopping at different beaches until reaching Manzanillo. All of the beaches had something to offer, but my favorite was Punta Uva (Grape Point), which has a little trail that leads up to a precipice overlooking a cliff.

Before going any further, I have to mention that Arndt brought his electric coffee maker, soy milk, sugar and coffee with him to Puerto Viejo. Not an espresso maker mind you, but a full on coffee maker with a glass pot. I felt like I had met the German equivalent of Kramer on Seinfeld, but I digress.

Even though the food here is great, rice and beans does get old after a while. So I was ecstatic when I found a place called Bread and Chocolate with bagels and French toast. Few countries do breakfast like Americans (who else but Uncle Sam could invent biscuits swimming in gravy for breakfast, well maybe the Scots, they do deepfry Snicker's bars), including biscuits, which this place had too. The food was amazing and after speaking with the owner it turns out that Tom is from the Eastern and knows a bunch of people from my college. Small world.

For both nights we headed to the one main bar/club in town and met a group of American college students in Costa Rica studying Spanish as well as a motley crue of backpackers and solitary travelers. Johnny's is on the beach and there's a bunch of tables situated outside with candles everywhere. It reminded me of Uruguay except for the multiple times I was offered drugs. That's not to say drugs aren't a part of the scene in Uruguay, far from it, but the people aren't proactive
about offering to sell it. The entrepreneurial spirit was alive and well in Puerto Viejo as people would randomly approach me and say "Hi, do you want marijuana? No? How about coke?" This took place roughly 60 feet from the local police station. It was good times though and I ended Saturday night by watching an approaching lightning storm from the beach as the night sky glittered with stars.

Pura Vida!