Pops at Playa Grande
200 feet away some local guys about my age give me the surfers’ wave (thumb and pinky), I look around, back to the friends I made from Portland, and I hear “happiness is out there, just jump and find it!” I look down at the waterfall and take a plunge. Falls always seem longer from the top, but this was a pretty good one with at least a few seconds of free fall, good thing my “day trip” friends got it on video. Coming from Manuel Antonio, the Disney Land of Costa Rica, this small, cultural beach town is just what the doctor ordered.
During the green season this part of Costa Rica is only reachable by the brave souls in 4x4’s, atv’s, and boats. Being directly across the peninsula, I find myself in a water taxi on a beautiful Pacific morning. The boat stops in front of a floating brown bob in the water. At first I think it is another log, stranded in the sea but at a closer inspection I see it is a sea turtle relaxing on the surface! “Can I go in?” I ask immediately, not letting a chance to swim with a beauty like this slip through my finger. “You can try, amigo, but before you even jump, she will be gone” the driver says, shortly followed by her bubbles on the surface and an empty sea once more. We pass by several more of these majestic creatures soaking up the rays as well as some other delights: a bright spotted marlin that seems to appear from nowhere and leave just as quickly, a family of jumping fish with a manta ray on their tail, and a pod of dolphins that left me pinching myself. If that wasn’t enough the approaching peninsula looked like a scene from Jurassic Park, and before I knew it we were beaching in Montezuma, located on the end of the Nicoya Peninsula.
After lugging my stuff to the top of the hill, I find myself, along with a couple of Welsh friends I made on the boat, in somewhat of a jungle and at the hostel we’ll be staying at, Luz en el cielo or light in the sky. After dropping our bags and having a beer, we decide to hit the white beaches and go for a walk. “Is it cool to walk around town barefoot?” I ask one of the employees, “Of course!” he laughs “No shirt, no shoes, no problem man.” I get the feeling I am going to like this place. Before we can dip our feet in the sand, we walk through the quaint town of Montezuma. Although it only encompasses a couple of square blocks, there is more culture here than in the sizable towns of Quepos and Manuel Antonio combined. A true Costa Rican beach town, Montezuma gives of chill vibes and good times from every building and business. Open walled stores with the occasional tour center flank both sides of the slightly paved road. Restaurants advertise live music while merchants roll out their towels of handmade tourist delights. Around the corner I see a brightly colored building with a mural of a waterfall, the ocean and tropical birds across the side. “Escuela central” it reads, the main school for Montezuma no bigger than the average fast food joint, I wonder how many kids go here.
Then the pavement ends and the beach present itself to us. Blue-torquise water is only plagued by the dirt that is present this time of the year, crashing over rocks on either side of the road. We are passed by several local surfers and the smell of charcoal drifts over from a Tico barbeque. There are no entrance fees to this beach, all are welcome to walk the shore, watch the surfers and explore the coast. About a mile further we are confronted with a slice of paradise. I literally stop every three steps to pick up rocks and shells of a smorgasbord of colors and textures, while a small inlet holds a surprise up ahead. A swimming hole of three light blue colors leaks into the ocean from the falling rocks and little waterfalls carried from the river it once was. On the other side is a Zen rock garden; dozens of stacked rocks, flaunting the colors that struck me just a minute ago. Where did this place come from? I couldn’t have thought of a better place to relax if I tried. Half an hour of swimming, climbing around and taking pictures and I am about ready to leave when I meet a new friend. A black lab with no collar but a full belly runs up to me and places his head on my knee, can I take him home? For the next hour we walk the beaches, he, who I named pops after his age and seemly rule over the area, scouts ahead for any food and glances back to make sure I am keeping up. When we have to take our separate ways I let him know if I ever had a black lab I will name him/her Zuma after such a fine fellow and the town he resides.
The next morning I head to the waterfalls that I keep hearing about, hoping I will not be disappointed as I was in Manuel Antonio. I walk past an old Tico hanging in a hammock and can hear the crashing water in the distance. Around him is a tiny house, the electric cable hanging off a branch and leading haphazardly through a window. Grandkids run around him as he reads the paper and the smell of a freshly made meal makes it way to my nose. I can’t help but notice how happy this simple family looks.
There have been several times this trip that I have felt sick, only one being about my physical health. The others have come from a sense of cultural genocide; tourism slaughtering little communities with posters, shuttles and advertisements in bold, English words. I found myself thinking about the lack of culture in these towns like La Fortuna, Manuel Antonion and Jaco. Why did I come to Costa Rica to read menus in English, get asked ‘whats up?’ and feel bad for the locals who have lost some of their culture? Tourism here has been a double bladed sword for Tico’s, as it gives them a steady and at times heavy income as well as publicity for their country and beauty, but also takes over towns, making English an almost universal language and draining the local color from a once vivid landscape. As someone studying the life of the people here, this disturbs me. Furthermore, coming from a small town, it makes me sick, and being one of these tourists makes me feel guilty and a little dirty. I try and stay away from the real touristy towns but there is no total escape yet. It is here, while I take in this little shack on the way to the waterfalls, I take a deep breath, sit and smile; instead of taking a negative attitude towards these towns, I started to think back and appreciate what there was and expand on it. In Manuel Antonio the curvy hills are stacked with attractions and tours but walk on the dirt road and find where the culture has run off to. Small grass fields fill with a fifty year old age range looking to play the national sport with their feet while little houses spread their clothes for the beaming sun to dry out. Dogs prowl with their noses searching for scraps and children play on their tails. Here mothers have been making handmade meals for longer than the tourism has been around, and their mothers before them. These people appreciate the beauty around them and live simply, not looking for a Nordstrom sale or trip to the big city.
There have been several times this trip that I have felt sick, only one being about my physical health. The others have come from a sense of cultural genocide; tourism slaughtering little communities with posters, shuttles and advertisements in bold, English words. I found myself thinking about the lack of culture in these towns like La Fortuna, Manuel Antonion and Jaco. Why did I come to Costa Rica to read menus in English, get asked ‘whats up?’ and feel bad for the locals who have lost some of their culture? Tourism here has been a double bladed sword for Tico’s, as it gives them a steady and at times heavy income as well as publicity for their country and beauty, but also takes over towns, making English an almost universal language and draining the local color from a once vivid landscape. As someone studying the life of the people here, this disturbs me. Furthermore, coming from a small town, it makes me sick, and being one of these tourists makes me feel guilty and a little dirty. I try and stay away from the real touristy towns but there is no total escape yet. It is here, while I take in this little shack on the way to the waterfalls, I take a deep breath, sit and smile; instead of taking a negative attitude towards these towns, I started to think back and appreciate what there was and expand on it. In Manuel Antonio the curvy hills are stacked with attractions and tours but walk on the dirt road and find where the culture has run off to. Small grass fields fill with a fifty year old age range looking to play the national sport with their feet while little houses spread their clothes for the beaming sun to dry out. Dogs prowl with their noses searching for scraps and children play on their tails. Here mothers have been making handmade meals for longer than the tourism has been around, and their mothers before them. These people appreciate the beauty around them and live simply, not looking for a Nordstrom sale or trip to the big city.
I take another deep breath and think back to a time of desks and whiteboards.
About a year and a half ago I took a Buddhism class taught by a small, soft spoken Japanese woman. That class opened my eyes to a religion which resonated with me in ways that others had not before. I was not going to pack my bags and head to a monastery but I saw practical uses for this ancient practice. One day during lecture, we were talking about materialism and its link to the mind. In the understated way she approached everything, my professor told the story of a man who found himself in luxury and the lesson that he learned. This man was given a very nice house, with all the food, entertainment and things he could desire. But soon his mind was left wandering and he became lost, searching in the items around him for the happiness he no longer felt. Until one day he abandoned the house and everything that came with it. He traveled to the mountains, to a place where the closest water was half a mile away up a steep hill. He lived in a small cave, one ridden with fleas and not tall enough for him to stand. But with him were others who believed the same as he did, and he was in bliss. He found himself through meditation, spirituality and journeys into the mountains. He didn’t need those material items, for that only fulfilled the physical needs, but in the cave he was mentally happy, creating a feeling no item could match.
What do these people need? From what I can see, family, food, and friends are enough. They cannot afford a Ferrari but they can get themselves where they need to go, which is never too far away. Instead they are rich with social activities, common beliefs, and simple needs. These needs are easy to meet, making them happy with little effort. It was at this point that I remembered another reading, something from the book The Peaceful Warrior. Simply, it was; Happiness= satisfaction/desires, meaning if we can create simple needs to be met, happiness will never be far away. I couldn’t help but be in awe of how many Tico’s have fully realized this equation and use it most likely with little knowledge of the wisdom it holds.
The ideas of creating simple needs to enjoy the resulting simple happiness and being aware of mental wellbeing instead of focusing on material desires creates a paradox. The message is to live simply, but the thinking it takes to fully understand is deeper than the idea. Without growing up in a culture like the one cultivated in many areas of Costa Rica, appreciating a simple lifestyle may seem counter intuitive. Indeed, the advertisements and messages sent in the US many times preach the opposite. On television many commercials represent wealthy and successful people enjoying the finer things, news websites post articles about the highest paying degrees and ways to make more money, and possibly the worst is public education teaching on a format to execute not create, and finish in front of understand. This puts us in a situation where we often must create our own simplicity, we must think deeper. If happiness is something we desire, then simple happiness is the easiest route to achieve it. But to access this simplicity often takes effort to sort through the pressures put on by the media and culture. Thus the paradox is required; to be simply happy, thinking deeply is the route to reveal it. While others may stress about their jobs, paychecks or any other current situation, must you have to as well? If your peers are dropping everything to be successful, do you? Thinking on the surface, the answer is yes, of course you must do the same since that is the trend all around. But looking a little deeper, we are the ones in control of our stress and degrees of appreciation. Your friend may not enjoy the misty field as you walk, their eyes fixed on their smart phone or complaining about the work to come, but you certainly can. What is stopping simple appreciation? The awareness to appreciate, the insight that comes from thinking a step deeper.
The first wall of rocks I encounter has a wide face of water splashing off of it and into several small pools at the bottom. I trek across its slippery ridge and up a small river before heading into the thicket and arrive at the bigger falls. About half an hour more of respectable hiking takes me to a thunderous sanctuary that is lightly inhabited for the time being. About 60-80 feet above me is the first of three waterfalls, and at the bottom I swim in a large pool that could hold a few hundred people. The rock walls hug the edge, and with a little precaution I make my way under the falls themself before taking a deep breath and jumping into the current, turning my back to the water and enjoying the warm day. I hear of a swing at the next waterfall and make my way back up and around a steep path that requires some semi rock climbing to a small but more secluded second and third fall. Here I meet the locals about my age that seem to be pro’s at being stupidly dangerous and laughing about it. “Here, every day is adventure” one guy tells me “we can swim, surf, climb around and jump off waterfalls, life is always fun.” I also meet a couple from Portland, Ore who have just quit their jobs to travel Central America for an indefinite amount of time. “We’ve done this before, seems like we can’t work every day for too long before getting the jitters and traveling.” David, a professional waiter tells me, “sounds like you have a pretty sweet gig here dude, and everyone seems friendly, just wish it wasn’t so expensive.” But this is free, a full day of adventure and a little danger just outside of town, and as I climb back up the waterfall and grab my bag, I feel for once I didn’t need to ask a Tico what they do to get away, because here they already are.
The first wall of rocks I encounter has a wide face of water splashing off of it and into several small pools at the bottom. I trek across its slippery ridge and up a small river before heading into the thicket and arrive at the bigger falls. About half an hour more of respectable hiking takes me to a thunderous sanctuary that is lightly inhabited for the time being. About 60-80 feet above me is the first of three waterfalls, and at the bottom I swim in a large pool that could hold a few hundred people. The rock walls hug the edge, and with a little precaution I make my way under the falls themself before taking a deep breath and jumping into the current, turning my back to the water and enjoying the warm day. I hear of a swing at the next waterfall and make my way back up and around a steep path that requires some semi rock climbing to a small but more secluded second and third fall. Here I meet the locals about my age that seem to be pro’s at being stupidly dangerous and laughing about it. “Here, every day is adventure” one guy tells me “we can swim, surf, climb around and jump off waterfalls, life is always fun.” I also meet a couple from Portland, Ore who have just quit their jobs to travel Central America for an indefinite amount of time. “We’ve done this before, seems like we can’t work every day for too long before getting the jitters and traveling.” David, a professional waiter tells me, “sounds like you have a pretty sweet gig here dude, and everyone seems friendly, just wish it wasn’t so expensive.” But this is free, a full day of adventure and a little danger just outside of town, and as I climb back up the waterfall and grab my bag, I feel for once I didn’t need to ask a Tico what they do to get away, because here they already are.
“This is a small community (Montezuma), everyone knows each other and there are few problems. Growing up about twenty of us were good friends that always knew where to go and see each other, we didn’t even have to say anything, we just knew.” This is Luis, the captain on the boat that I am today. It has been four weeks and I am on my first tour guided activity. We are on Tortuga Island, just off the shore about an hour boat ride from Montezuma surrounded by landscape that once again makes me think dinosaurs must live there. I have just chased down the boat which was trying to leave without me, as I was the last one to come back from snorkeling. Two little rocks just off the island in the big blue held over fifty types of fish that I drooled into my snorkel over as well as eels, crabs and in general sea life galore. “Life here is very Tranquilo” Luis continues. Tranquilo, I keep hearing that word from happy Ticos; in the north near Arenal and Monteverde with their spirituality and connection with nature, on the coast near Judy’s house in Potrero, Flamingo and the laid back cowboy lifestyles and now in the rugged Nicoya Peninsula, where adventure and beauty are omnipresent. Every place seems to have its own stamp but this chilled out, worry free attitude that seems to come straight out of a Bob Marley song permeates through all of these happy places… Are these the roots of Tico happiness?
“Surf, eat, surf, sleep” Reads a t-shirt thrown on the back of a longboard, here in Santa Teresa where surfing is tourism, the local past time and a world destination. The Quicksilver international tour was here just last week, but even without the big names there are huge groups that put their backs against the sun and stomachs on wax in hopes of catching the next wave. But that seems to be the biggest problem here at a surf mecca in a hard to reach spot on the Nicoya, finding your own spot to surf the pristine waves. Little shops and restaurants scatter the dirt roads while the presence of the ocean is never more than a look around the corner away. Eventually a few Europeans I befriended rented a couple of surfboards from the hostel and convinced me (it took a lot…) to give this surfing thing a shot. Fortunately I wasn’t the only newbie at the water riding sport and was given a brief overview before jumping on the board. After a few pitiful paddles I was standing on the board, for at least 5 seconds! With my mission accomplished and sinuses copiously cleaned, I sat back for the sunset.
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| Santa Teresa from afar |
I hear a Jack Johnson song playing and I find it quite appropriate. He must have come to a town like this to write songs telling us to slow down and relax, sleep in, and of course, surf. The one road that shoots across a few small towns starts at the tip of the peninsula and ends at a natural spot; where a river heads towards the ocean and bears no bridge to cross, leaving travel only to the dry season and forcing me to either take private transit for 4 hours or public for about a day and a half (with lay overs). But that is something Tico’s just aren’t worried about, the road may be winding and out of the way, but if you get there, what else matters?
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