Don’t listen to what they say. Go see.

– Chinese Proverb

Costa Rica has been on my bucket list for a very long time. It consistently ranks in the top three in the list of countries that US expats retire early to because of its tropical climate, it’s position below the hurricane zone, and its relatively low cost of living. Add to that a beautiful mix of mountains, tropical rain forest, volcanoes, and beaches, and the place is simply irresistible. Even our traveling friends who’ve been all over the world have talked at length about their love for this little Caribbean nation. So, needless to say, that this has been one of the destinations I’ve most been looking forward to on our adventure.

In our last post, we were wrapping up our time in Honduras. Henry really wanted to go to Nicaragua next to do some volcano sledding that his cousins had told him about. Brian wanted to go there because it is very inexpensive, and we could gain some traction on our budget. I was open to visiting it, but if we missed it, I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it. After evaluating our travel options several times at length, we decided that financially, it just didn’t make sense for us to go there. It would actually be less expensive for us to backtrack into Guatemala, and then catch a flight over Nicaragua straight to Costa Rica than it would be to catch a bus into the country. This isn’t normally the case, but Covid has made this, among many things, more difficult.

So instead of catching a bus into Nicaragua, we started a long journey back to Guatemala. We caught the ferry out of Roatan back to the mainland, and then we spent two nights in La Ceiba so that we could firm up our plans and get our laundry done. We decided to take a bus back to San Pedro Sula because no matter how we decided to proceed, we would need to get to there first. We had avoided staying in this town because it’s one of the least safe cities in a not very safe country. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any other options. There is a nice bus (the Hedman Alas) that travels from San Pedro Sula to Guatemala City, but we discovered that we couldn’t get tickets to get us all the way there for several more days. We had found another bus company that could take us to Guatemala City through the east coast, but none of their route/cost information was online. Like many of the bus companies in the area (and there are hundreds of them), you simply have to show up at the station with cash in hand and buy your ticket. By the time we could arrive in San Pedro Sula, we wouldn’t know if their last buses for the day had already gone out. So we opted to stay one night there and leave as early as possible the next day.

Our host in San Pedro Sula, Blanca, was great. She picked us up from the bus station, brought us to her home, and introduced us to other guests staying with her, as well. She showed us to our room and then gave us directions to two shopping malls within walking distance. She said that her neighborhood was safe and that we would be okay walking to the malls. Both had food courts where we could find a variety of options for dinner. We opted to go for an early dinner so we would be safely within her gates by dark.

The mall was very nice, bright, beautiful, and full of stores we recognized, and it was easy inside to forget that the city had a reputation for crime. We ate American foods and shopped around for a replacement camera for Henry for a bit. After a few hours, we walked back to our hostel to shower, pack up for our next day, and get a little sleep.

The next morning, we enjoyed our breakfast with our host and her family. After breakfast she made some phone calls to help us figure out the bus schedules for the day, and then she drove us to the bus station to catch our next bus. Based on their schedule, the bus was supposed to leave at 10:30, and we arrived at their ticket window at around 10:10. The line was excruciatingly slow, but we finally made it to the window. While I dealt with the paperwork, Brian speed-walked to the nearest ATM to get cash for the tickets. We watched the time tick by, anxiously hoping we would still be able to make the bus. When we finally had the tickets in hand, we rushed outside to the bus lanes expecting to immediately board only to find that our bus was not there.

The San Pedro Sula bus station is incredibly massive with hundreds of busing coming and going at any given time. Riders wait out in the heat with their luggage for their bus to arrive. Unfortunately the buses aren’t always labeled properly, and there’s no apparent organization to their locations. In order to find your bus, you have to look for your style of bus (sometimes you can find a picture of them), ask the drivers of each bus, or try to find an attendant (who is not dressed in any bus station uniform) to ask. It’s crowded, hot, and extremely hectic. On top of that, our bus was almost an hour late pulling into the station; we weren’t sure if it was late or if we had missed it altogether. There was one man that seemed to work at the station that kept assuring us that the bus was on it’s way. However, he didn’t speak any English, and we didn’t have phone service to use our translate app. Each time he told us it would only be a few more minutes, our confidence level dropped a little more. It was awful, and we were very stressed standing there trying to figure out what to do next.

Our bus finally did show, though, and we boarded with no problems. We pulled out of the station and had driven about ten minutes away from the terminal when the driver pulled over to the side of the road. At first, we weren’t concerned; we just enjoyed the air conditioning as we relaxed knowing that we would be in Guatemala City by around 8 pm. An hour and a half later, we were still sitting on the side of the road ten minutes from the bus station. We had a flat tire and the driver was having it repaired. With another 8 hours of drive time ahead, we were getting antsy, and it was clear that it was going to be a long day. Oh, but we had no idea!

We hit the road again, and we had a really good trip to the Honduras/Guatemala border. This border was different from any others we’d seen in that it was absolutely packed. The line for each country wrapped around opposite sides of the building. Our driver called each of us by name and had us go to the Honduran immigration line. It took us about two hours to get to the front of the line and spend our one minute with the official. We then moved over to the Guatemala immigrations line to wait another hour. Hot, hungry, and tired, we boarded the bus for the final 5 hour leg of the trip.

At around 11 pm, we were all resting peacefully when our driver slammed on the brakes and we heard a terrible crash. I prayed that no one was hurt, and then I prayed that God would just stop this craziness. All I wanted was to be in a hotel bed and off of this stupid bus, but we were still two hours from Guatemala City, and I had no idea what would happen because of the accident. Lookie-loos got off the bus to check out the damage, but as soon as we figured out no one was hurt, I really didn’t care. We think we rear ended a semi truck, but we still aren’t sure. I don’t know if we did any damage to the other vehicle, but the windshield of the bus was cracked and broken. The bus was functional though, and about a half hour later, broken windshield and all, we continued our journey.

Remember how we hoped to get to Guatemala City by 8 pm? Well, at 1:30 am, we finally rolled into the Guatemala City bus station. We hadn’t had lunch or dinner, we were exhausted, and we had no where to go. We hadn’t booked a hotel because we wanted to make sure we could get to the town first; after we finally got our bus tickets, we never had WIFI to find a place to stay. And I should mention that hotels in Central America are very different from those in the US. In the US, there is almost always someone on duty, and so long as the hotel has vacancy, you can show up, ask for a room, and get a place to stay regardless of the hour. In Guatemala, like all of the other Central American countries, check-in at most hotels has limited hours, and after that, you’re just out of luck. As Brian and Henry retrieved our bags, I talked a local taxi driver out of the WIFI password so I could find somewhere for us to go. Apparently, finding a place to stay at 2 am isn’t an easy task. No one would answer the phone, and I couldn’t book online because the websites recognized the date and wanted to help us find a reservation for that night instead. We were sharing the taxi with a fellow bus rider who spoke a little English and who also didn’t have a hotel. After 30 minutes of searching and calling with no luck, and me doing my very best not to freak out, our taxi driver told us he knew of an ‘economical’ hotel. Thankfully our new friend agreed to coordinate with the driver for all of us to go to the drivers suggested spot.

Twenty minutes later, we parked outside a locked gate, and the driver yelled through the barred windows of the hotel’s front wall to wake the reception attendant. Reluctantly, the attendant let us in and gave us rooms for the night. Of course, he only took cash, and we didn’t have enough Guatemalan money to pay for the room in cash, so while Henry and I waited safely inside the hotel gates, Brian went with the driver to find another ATM.

At around 2:30 am, we finally stretched out in our beds to rest. The sun comes up in Guatemala at around 5 am, and we knew that while desolate and quiet at that time, the street in front of the hotel would be bright, bustling, and loud very early. We were right, by the way, but even with the light and noise, we all slept in until 7 or so.

Early that morning, our next order of business was to get our tickets to fly to Costa Rica and to figure out how we’d get to the airport. We bought tickets for a direct flight into San Jose, Costa Rica, that would leave at 6 am the next morning. We decided to move to a hotel a little closer to the airport so we wouldn’t have to get up quite so early for our flight. Our Uber driver dropped us off at our new hotel at around 1 pm. This hotel was very nice, but it wasn’t close to any restaurants. We took the advice of the reception attendant and had a pizza delivered to our room instead of going back out. She made the phone call for us, thankfully, and we ate enough to make up for the meals we missed the day prior.

Then she dropped the bomb on us. In Guatemala, you have to be at the airport three full hours before your flight departs. We weren’t far from the airport, but in order to make sure we met their requirements, she scheduled the taxi to pick us up at 2:30 am. That night, we were all exhausted, and thankfully we went to sleep with very little issue. The alarm was miserable though, and we all struggled to get moving again.

Our taxi driver was waiting patiently at the hotel gate for us at 2:30 that next morning. He dropped us off, and we started the process of going through the airport. To be fair, this process isn’t much different than in the US, but the line grew quickly behind us and I’m sure wait times grew to staggering amounts throughout the day. The only issue we encountered was at the ticket counter. Costa Rica, like many countries, requires that you show proof of onward travel before you are allowed to come in. We had a letter from Quark Expeditions about our Antarctica trip, but we couldn’t get the clerk to understand that the trip was proof we wouldn’t be in Costa Rica more than our 90 government allowed days. Our only option was to book a flight, show him we had a paid reservation, and then cancel it afterwards. And that’s exactly what we did. While standing in line, the agent watched as Brian booked us tickets to Panama. After we landed and got through Costa Rican immigrations, we immediately cancelled the tickets.

Now, we fly Southwest Airlines quite frequently, and I love flying with them, but the Copa Airlines flight was really great. The seats were very roomy. Each seat had a built in tv in the headrest, and boarding was very easy and very laid back. I could get used to that. Our flight was smooth and enjoyable, and it only took an hour and a half to reach our destination. We went through immigration with no issues, and then we headed to baggage claim to pick up my bag. Unlike Southwest, with Copa, your checked baggage does not fly for free, so in order to minimize our costs, we combined all of our toiletries into one bag so we could only check that one. Henry carried my shoes in his bag, and Brian took my cold weather clothes in his bag. I had all of my warm weather clothes, all of our toiletries, and our first aid kit. Brian had commented from the plane that he’d seen my bag get loaded in the cargo area, so we knew we had it with us. But at baggage claim, we waited and waited, and it never showed up.

A very helpful young man in the baggage claim area helped me fill out a report, and he assured me that my bag would be there within a day or so. They had my information as well as our host’s info, and they would call or email as soon as they heard anything.

After taking an Uber to our apartment, we dropped our bags and went to find some lunch. Our new hosts, Tony and Katherine, were very helpful and pointed us to a nice outdoor mall area with plenty of options. We spent a few hours exploring and then went back to our room to relax. That evening, we walked to the local market and picked up some groceries so we could eat at home and let Henry do some schoolwork.

At around 11:30 pm, true to their word, Copa Airlines called to let me know they had my bag and their driver was bringing it to me. Another difference from the US and Costa Rica is the lack of a well defined 911 address system. I’m sure they have a system, but I don’t know what it is. Our hosts had given us a ‘neighborhood’ name and the instructions to give the driver who delivered us. Now, it was 11:30 at night, I’m half asleep because I was very soundly sleeping when he called, I’m on the phone with the driver who speaks very little English, and I’m trying to explain how to find this apartment in a town I don’t know. Our delivery person was very patient though, and I was grateful for him. At some point, Brian and I unlocked the gate at the garage, and I stood at the gate while Brian tried to flag the driver down on the main road like a crazy person. The driver finally saw Brian, could hear me telling him to look for the man in the blue shirt in middle of the street, and turned around. A few signatures later, I had my peace of mind and my bag back.

The next two days were very low key as we caught up on rest and school. We explored more of Alajuela, the suburb we were staying in, on one day, and we visited Avenida Central in San Jose on another. Avenida Central is a main road in San Jose, and the city has marked off about a mile long stretch for pedestrians only. There are literally hundreds of stores, restaurants, and banks in the area to lure in the tourists.

We liked San Jose and Alajuela, but we wanted to see more. We decided that the best way to really experience Costa Rica was to rent a car and head out on our own. Our rental company recommended that we get a vehicle with four wheel drive after he heard our plans, and I’m glad we did. They dropped the SUV off for us at our apartment, and we began the five hour drive to Santa Teresa. Santa Teresa is a small beach town on the Pacific coast, and it lies on the southern end of the Nicoya Peninsula. About 2.5 hours in, there is an hour and twenty minute ferry that crosses from the mainland to the peninsula and cuts a significant amount of time off the trip. After grabbing some BBQ chicken and beef kabobs from a street vendor outside the ferry station, we drove our SUV onto the boat, and then settled in on the top of the boat for an extremely comfortable and beautiful trip. Once we landed again, we worked our way through the winding roads. At one point, we drove until we stopped at the bank of a raging river. It took us a moment to put together that in the dry season, the path google maps found for us drove straight through the creek. In the rainy season, which we happened to be in the middle of, it’s just a big dead end because the river is far to high to safely cross. So with no other option, we turned around, backtracked to our last turn, and tried another road instead. Thankfully Google maps updated us with a new route, and within thirty minutes, we found the main road in Santa Teresa.

We found our hostel fairly easily and checked in with reception. There were quite a few folks hanging around the open air lounge playing pool, foosball, and cards. Henry was really excited to see that we had a pool and plenty of things to do around the hostel. We walked down the road to find some dinner, and then we were off to bed.

Around midnight, I had been sleeping really good when I heard Henry moving around the room and sounding very frustrated. I asked him what he was doing. He told me he was looking for our iPad because he wanted to do something. Brian asked him what he was needing to do so late, and in true petulant 13-year old fashion, Henry explained that he just wanted to do something, he needed the iPad to do it, and that we just wouldn’t understand. He said all he needed was to go get the iPad from the ‘main’ room in the hotel. He was very angry that we didn’t seem to understand where this main room was, and in a huff, he gave up and decided to just go to sleep. Henry has never walked or talked in his sleep, so this was new to us. But sure enough, we all had a good laugh because at breakfast the next morning, he had absolutely no memory of his little fit.

We were still sitting around the table at breakfast that morning when some guy walks up to Brian and grabs him by the shoulders. Diego, a friend Brian had made during his January trip to Mexico was staying in our hostel and had seen us when he came down for a bite. Diego and Brian had been in contact throughout our trip, with Diego graciously giving us tips and hints along the way. Neither knew that the other was in Costa Rica, let alone the same town and hostel. It was nice to meet Brian’s friend, and I know Brian was really needing a familiar face too.

We decided we’d spend our first full day in Santa Teresa exploring the area. Diego and his friends were planning to go to the Montezuma waterfalls, and we had been talking about that as well. After checking out the Playa Carmen beach, we made our way to the falls only to find that, with all the recent rains, the water was too high to safely make the climb. Dejected, we chose to go find some food instead. We saw a sign for a brewery at a fork in the road, and knowing how much Brian usually enjoys visiting craft breweries, Henry and I agreed to try it out. So we drove. And drove. And drove. We did eventually made it to the brewery, but we backed out of the driveway almost as quickly as we entered it as the brewery appeared to be two barstools and a counter under a lean-to in someone’s back yard. Thankfully we found a decent restaurant just a kilometer or so further into town instead.

When we finally made it back to Santa Teresa, we decided to continue on past our hostel and drive up the coast to check out the other beaches in town. We had made arrangements to have a surf lesson with a local surf shop the next day, and our instructor, Lalo, told us we would need to go to Playa Hermosa, about 15 minutes north of where we were staying, for the lesson. The waves near the beach by our hostel, Playa Carmen, were big and loud, and the contours of the beach make beginner surfing lessons very unsafe there. Playa Hermosa was sandy, wide, and beautiful with gentle and rolling waves. It looked like a great place for us to start.

The next day, we got up and got ready for our lesson. Henry and I were nervous, but Brian seemed unfazed. Lalo was a great teacher, patient and calm. He had been surfing since he was a child, and he loved teaching. After a short lesson on the sand, we headed to the water. Brian stood up on the board on his second or third try, and Henry was just as quick. I was not. By the end of our 90-minute lesson, Brian was consistently getting up, and Henry was doing tricks. I was doing my best not to cuss or drown, but I had stood up a few times, and I really did have fun. We didn’t do much the rest of the night except rest up a bit and contemplate when we might be able to try surfing again.

We spent our last full day in Santa Teresa swimming at the beach and relaxing in the sun. We found out that Brian’s ATM card had gotten skimmed when he went to get us cash. He had gone to the ATM, and an hour later, someone in San Jose tried using a card with the same programmed electronic stripe and his pin to withdraw cash. Thankfully the bank flagged the suspicious activity, and they killed the card. We are able to use my card for now, and the bank is rushing another to us. It’s scary how quickly and easily they pulled our information, though.

The next morning, we packed up the car and headed north to Tamarindo. We got held up for a short while when the map brought us right back to the opposite shore of the raging river shortcut, but we quickly rerouted ourselves and got back on our way. Santa Teresa is a undeveloped small town with dirt roads and a very laid back feel, but Tamarindo is busy, and loud, and while it also has a beachy/surfer vibe, it’s nothing like Santa Teresa. We stayed in an apartment just a few blocks from the beach. On our first full day in Tamarindo, my birthday, we rented surfboards from a beach-side shop and played in the waves. The tide was high when we started, and the waves were bigger than what we’d seen at Playa Hermosa. Brian and Henry did really well again. I did better, but while waiting for the waves, I started getting seasick. I was pleased with my progress and I stopped before they did which gave me time to just enjoy the sun and the sand. Later that evening, the boys took me out to a steak dinner at an Argentinian restaurant. It was phenomenally good, and afterwards, we followed that up with delicious gelato.

We woke up the next morning to head for a different region of the country. We wanted to visit Monteverde to enjoy the cloud forest. On the way through the countryside, we got flagged down by a police officer. He said Brian had been going 85 kilometers per hour in a 65 zone. The officer told us it was a $200 ticket and we would have to pay it in Liberia in a few weeks. He said he would make it a warning with no ticket if we could pay his fine of $100. As sickened as we were to do it, and since we didn’t really have another option, we paid him the money knowing he was just going to pocket it. From then on, we kept a very close eye on the speedometer.

Monteverde is high in the mountains, and the lush green growth is beautiful against the backdrop of rolling mountains. From the road, you could even see the Nicoya Peninsula and the Pacific Ocean. We rolled into our hotel just before the rains came. We stepped out of the car in our shorts and t-shirts and immediately found our jackets and pants. The air was cool and misty. We found information at the front desk on a night hike to see the local wildlife. Henry really wanted to see a sloth, so we signed up for the hike and went to our room to get ready. While we were grabbing a bite to eat before the hike, the bottom fell out and it started raining cats and dogs. All through dinner, we watched the weather with increasing dread. We were already cold, and the last thing we wanted to do was stand out in the rain waiting to see animals that were probably too smart to be out in the rain.

Thankfully the hotel helped us cancel our tour, and we were able to retire to our room and rest instead. Our room was more of a bungalow, woodsy and spacious, and we each had our own extremely comfortable bed to stretch out in. We laid in bed listening to the deluge of rain on the roof and were thankful that we weren’t outside in all of that.

The next morning, we packed our bags again. We would have preferred to stay another day, but the forecast showed that the rain wasn’t going to let up for at least another day or two. The rental car had to be returned, so whether we liked it or not, it was time to get moving. After stopping at a car wash on our way where for $6, a man washed the outside and inside of the car by hand, we returned to Alajuela and dropped the car off. Our plan was to catch the bus to Puerto Viejo de Limon the next morning, so we found a place to stay within walking distance of the bus terminal.

The bus ride was slow because of a lot of construction and traffic, and because it wasn’t air conditioned, it was very hot. But we made it to Puerto Viejo with no issues. Puerto Viejo is on the Atlantic side of Costa Rica, and it’s very much a tropical forest with a beach. The beach is several miles long, and the entire town sits within only a few hundred feet from the shore along the length. Our hostel was a 25 minute walk from the bus stop, and already tired, the walk seemed miserable. But once we made it, we were placed in a very large 5-bed dorm room that we had to ourselves. We joked about feeling like Goldilocks as we all tried out the beds to see which ones we might use.

We enjoyed our stay there, but because it was only available for one night, the next morning, we packed our bags and walked about half the distance back to town to another hostel. This one was family run, and we immediately liked the warm welcome and atmosphere. Our room wasn’t ready, but we dropped our bags off and headed to the beach. It was beautiful and calm, and we had the beach nearly to ourselves. After several hours we wandered back home to find our bags delivered to our room, and our clothes that we dropped off for cleaning were freshly cleaned and folded neatly on the bed. The room we had was easily the smallest one we have stayed in, but there was room to relax on the porch, so we didn’t mind too much. Henry kept tabs on a raccoon in a tree by the porch and worked on his schoolwork as we figured out our next steps.

We really enjoyed Puerto Viejo, but we knew it was time to go and that it would be our last stop in Costa Rica. There were several more places and things we wanted to do, but we just didn’t have time to see it all.

We had heard so much about Costa Rica before we got here, and I’m so glad I got to see it for myself. It most certainly did not disappoint. I can fully understand why Americans are retiring to this country en masse. It truly is a paradise, and the atmosphere is warm and inviting. I’m thinking we will be back to this area for an extended trip one day to fully live the pura vida. Hopefully very soon.