I flew into San Jose via Miami, and was only in Costa Rica's capital overnight. I booked a room at Grano de Oro, an old Victorian mansion that has been transformed into a hotel. The next morning, I flew out to Manuel Antonio, a little town that lies on the pacific coast of the country. I had booked a flight on Sansa Airlines, which operates TINY airplanes that fly domestically. Surprisingly, the ride was much smoother than some I've experienced on the big jets. Overlooking the runway and the 'airport' in Quepos,the town closest to Manuel Antonio, I began wondering what I had gotten myself into.
Runway
Quepos Airport
MANUEL ANTONIO
I had read about La Mariposa Hotel in the book, "A Thousand Places to See Before You Die," and decided to stay there. When the bus pulled up to the hotel, I was completely awestruck. I have almost always stayed in 1 or 2 star hotels that were far from breathtaking when traveling abroad. Budget-traveling is usually the case, and I figure hotels are just to shower and sleep. This time, though, I wanted something comfortable and aesthetically pleasing, especially since it was the first time I was in a foreign country by myself. The second I checked in, I was off to the beach.
I experienced the allure of Playa Espadilla purely by chance. I had initially set out to find Playa Manuel Antonio, noted for its calm waters. Espadilla, the neighboring beach, is well-known for its waves and strong current, and because I'd always been terrified of both, I made sure to avoid it at all costs. After a 25-minute downhill hike through unstable dirt roads that were carved into the rainforest, I finally heard the sound of the ocean and knew I was close to what I thought was Playa Manuel Antonio. When I emerged onto the sand, I was blown away by the beach's scenic beauty and kickin' ambiance. It was as if I had stepped onto a Latin-American version of an Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon film. There were countless tire tracks on the sand made by the jeeps parked under the palm trees and surfers waxing their boards. Massive rock formations were strewn around the shore, and a cool, sheer mist was making its way up from the surface. Seeing the height of the waves and noticing their constant breaks, I realized I had stumbled upon the beach I set out to avoid. I don't know if it was the sun, the long haul or the striking scenery, but as I walked along the seemingly endless shore and onto the southern tip where the locals were hanging out, I knew I was there to stay.
After watching with envy as the smallest of children dove into and under the waves, I realized that the only way I would get over my fear and truly enjoy Playa Espadilla was to take surf lessons. I made my way onto the main strip, where the scene was picture perfect. Surfers were enjoying the lazy afternoon, young artists were selling handmade jewelry and live, acoustic music was providing the soundtrack. I came upon Kobe Surf, a shop that doubled as a surfing school, and I signed up for lessons for the following day. The kid behind the counter (he was about 16) said he'd be the one giving me my lesson and I could stop by anytime in the afternoon because he'd just close the shop and his boss would never find out......lovely.
CANOPY SAFARI
I woke up early the next day, since I had signed up for the Canopy Safari Tour in the morning. Initially I thought it would be a lame tourist trap. I've never been so happy to be wrong. A van picked me up at La Mariposa and I was off into the rainforest. Driving there was an adventure in and of itself, as the roads weren't exactly roads--they were just unpaved dirt paths that seemed to go on forever. One of the things I learned in Costa Rica is that there are two types of bridges there: the "Oh My God" bridge and the "Oh Shit" bridge. I dare you not to grip whatever is around as you're passing over them - they are literally planks of wood connecting two masses.
The rest of the ride up into the rainforest was unreal. You forget what the natural world looks like when you're surrounded by enormous steel edifices on a daily basis. After arriving to our camp grounds, we had breakfast and a brief lesson on what to expect. Then, it was time to hike up and start zipping. The walk up to higher ground took about half an hour, and in order to get there we had to step on tree stumps that lined our path. Along the way, I was fortunate enough to witness what the locals referred to as a rare occurrence. Dangling off a leaf high above was a Honduran white bat. Alright.....I could barely see it. The damn thing is only a little bigger than a mouse, and without my glasses I can barely see 10 feet in front of me, let alone dozens of feet above me. From what I hear, however, it was a sight.
We finally reached our post and it was time for my first zip. It's difficult to fully express what it feels like to be flying high above a rainforest, grazing treetops as you zip across a wire hundreds of feet over the ground. The experience is unparalleled and incredibly freeing. The guides encouraged us to let go of the ropes, and I found myself zipping upside down with nothing but trees and mountains beneath me. Waiting for you at the end of the wire is a wooden platform (what they call the canopy) that has been built around the top of the tree trunk - nothing above and nothing beneath. Although you're connected to a wire the entire time, it is somewhat unnerving to stand on this man-made structure with 12 other people. In between zips, we repelled, which is zipping down instead of across.
After the canopy tour, our van picked up our group and we were back on the road. A fresh-looking river piqued our curiosity and we asked the van to pull over so we could go for a swim. A few of the girls had their swimsuits on, but I had left mine back at the hotel. It took little convincing on their part to have me strip down to my underwear and sports bra and jump right in- I knew full-coverage, 100% cotton underwear would have to come in handy one day!
SURFING
Once dropped off, it was time to learn how to surf - or at least attempt to do so. I went over to the surf shop, and as promised, Christian, my instructor, closed the shop in the middle of the day. The waves that afternoon were unlike any I had seen before, and as I made my way onto the beach, I could feel my knees buckling. After a brief sand lesson on technique, paddling and popping up, we were off. Once in the water, my anxiety level spiked and I began second-guessing my decision. My first good wave, however, was coming in and there was absolutely no way of getting out of it. As instructed, I began paddling as fast as I could and tried to get up when Christian yelled to do so. Before I knew it, I was knocked down by the wave and was being dragged and pulled underneath. Five seconds beneath the water felt like an eternity, and the panic I experienced years ago during a similar incident in Mexico began rushing back. When I finally came up for air, Christian told me to shake it off and hurry up because there were more coming in. I had no time to think about what had just happened.
For the rest of the afternoon, I was battered, flipped and submerged countless times. With each fall, I enjoyed it more and more. Finally, I was able to stand up and ride a few times. By the end of the day, I was painfully exhausted but exhilarated at the idea that I had not only conquered my fear, but had found a new sport to pursue. Next step? Surf camp!
No comments:
Post a Comment