Guanacaste is a province with a unique historical legacy. It used to be part of Nicaragua but was annexed and incorporated into Costa Rica without a shot being fired. It’s a region with enormous pride as evidenced by the fact that the number of Guanacastean flags seem to outnumber the national flags throughout the region. In keeping with its unique character, the climate is also drier than other coastal regions.
I had read that Carillo is picturesque, but that’s an understatement. It’s a small, palm-lined beach with a beautiful view, emerald green water and an absence of bars, restaurants, trinket stands, or any of the other hallmarks denoting a tourist destination. In other words, it’s perfect, easily one of my favorite beaches in Costa Rica so far.
Though the house where we stayed was quite “rustic” -in the sense that being homeless could be also be generously referred to as improvisational urban camping- it was a five-minute walk from the beach and a free place to stay is a free place to stay. I also enjoyed hanging out with Ticos that weren’t used to spending a great deal of time with North Americans (except Marcos). They were genuinely friendly and curious about our experiences in and reactions to Costa Rica and more than willing to answer our share of questions.
We spent half of the first day enjoying the beach and then headed off to an isolated rocky inlet known only to locals where tidal pools form. On the way to the unnamed inlet, we saw a troop of howler monkeys, whose calls sound like a cross between a pig grunting and a sort of guttural sound. There’s an unmarked dirt road that seemed to lead nowhere promising. After about half a mile, we parked the cars and headed down through a trail that opened into the rocky cove after about 50 meters. To get to the tidal pools, you have to time it right to avoid getting stranded and eventually engulfed by the waves once it’s high tide. The tidal pools were beautiful and we were able to swim in them for a while before the increasingly large waves hinted at our exit. The pools boasted some colorful fish and other sea life.
Since Carrillo doesn’t have any places to go out at night, we spent both nights lounging at the house and drinking on the beach. On the second night when we gathered our booze and headed down to the beach, we crossed a police car, which unsettled me a bit. Marcos assured me not to worry because they don’t mind if you drink at the beach. They only care about fires on the beach, and then only if they’re under the palm trees because they’re afraid of the fire hazard. When you grow up in an urban area in the States, the exhaustive set of rules barring everything from fishing without a license to drinking in public to setting a fire at the beach become second nature and there’s a tendency to assume that’s the way it is everywhere. Luckily that’s not the case in Costa Rica and we were able to enjoy our beverages without a COPS style beat down.
After Marcos and his friends headed to another beach the following day, Nic and I decided to stay in Samara, a 10-minute drive north. Being more developed, Samara has an assortment of bars, hotels, and good restaurants. More development is on the way, but I’ve found that Lonely Planet tends to exaggerate the degree of development. It’s not like there’s a Best Western or McDonald’s there. The beach is much bigger (longer) than Carrillo but not as striking and it doesn’t have any waves, though we weren’t there long enough to be certain. We had some great Italian food at a couple of restaurants. One thing I’ve noticed is that there’s a ton of Italian run restaurants in Costa Rica. I guess that probably holds true for many places because who doesn’t like Italian food, right?
Pura Vida!
