For me Costa Rica had a couple of problems. For me the most pressing was the cost of doing anything. Half day trips advertising "only $25 US" and the locals telling us this was cheap. Whilst you could find a dorm room for $5-6, eating and actually doing anything was rather more of a struggle. The second major problem was that nature just wasn't in the mood to perform.
We visited Monteverde cloud forest, a surreal experience that made me feel the atmosphere had been scripted by a second year media studies student. All around us were the peeps of birds, but the noises took on a spooky quality dampened in the swirling mists blotting out the tops of the trees so the source of the noise was rarely visible. We had headed there to try to spot the elusive Quetzal. It eluded us. We also planned on taking a night hike to spot sloths and tarantulas. I was rather more excited by the prospect of the former than the latter, but as it turned out the weather conspired against us and a torrential downpour dictated that a raucous game of pictionary replaced the night hike.
Our next stop was La Fortuna to spot lava flowing from the Arenal volcano, a very active volcano that apparently erupts nightly. After our guides distracted us with cuba libres we agreed to take their word for it and head by torchlight to a fast flowing natural hot river.
Giving up on the highlands we decided to head coast-wards into the jungles of Tortuguero National Park. The town of Tortuguero has no roads and is only accessible by lancha. We spent time bobbing around in the Caribbean, spotting sea-turtles nesting and I personally spent a rather frantic few minutes fending a dog off my ankle. Not my favourite experience of Costa Rica.
Deciding it was time to leave the drain on my bank balance we headed towards the border, finally arriving in Puerto Limon to find the next bus to the border was at 2pm, took 3 hours and the border closed at 5pm. Doing the maths and deciding spending a night in a border town was an experience we would rather not repeat, we headed to the pretty beach town of Cahuita where part of the national park is still free due to protests of the locals as national park entry fees are ridiculously high in Costa Rica, easily pricing the locals out. This results in a white sand beach, bordered by jungle and free of litter, an unheard of situation in Central America...
Sunday 12 September 2010
Wednesday 8 September 2010
Taxi?!
Leaving El Salvador was hard in many ways. First of all I didn't want to leave. Secondly it was a mad dash for the border to get the last bus from the Honduran side towards Nicaragua. We failed. So we experienced what all backpackers dread – a night in a border town. No street lights, many lorry drivers and a strange Honduran man who claimed to be a millionaire, yet was eating street food with us.
Needless to say, we survived and caught the first bus out the next day and made it to Nicaragua, possibly the worst border crossing yet. Before the collectivo had even stopped the cycle taxis had removed our bags from the roof and stashed them in their rickshaws. So in between trying to pay the collectivo driver and work out where immigration is we also had to keep removing our bags from the clutches of Hondurans and Nicaraguans with dollar signs in their eyes. Of course in the end it all got too much and we gave up. Asking how much they'd charge they refused to name a price and instead claimed it was tip only. We remained wary, but went along anyway. Getting through both sides of immigration (and being charged entry into Nicaragua, despite this not being a valid charge due to the CA4 agreement, so maybe I should say “paying a bribe”) our drivers then demanded a tip of $20 US each. Just to give an idea, normally bus journeys are approximately $1 US per hour. Of course we refused and offered a dollar each for their services of 20 minutes (most of which was waiting for us at immigration). They demanded all the money we could give, and then took a little more, leaving us short for the only bus. The bus driver refused to take any currency other than cordobas (which is unusual for Central America), or to take payment at the other end when we could exchange more currency. He made a fuss very loudly and in the end the guy in front of me on the bus tapped my arm and thrust a handful of change into my hand – the 2 cordobas (approximately 5p) that we were short. So my faith in humanity was restored, and I revised my opinion of hating Nicaraguans as much as Hondurans to hating Nicaraguan taxi drivers. This opinion turned out to be accurate. As long as you avoided taxi drivers (who would tell you there is no bus, even if you can see it...), Nicaraguans were lovely people.
In Nicaragua we went volcano boarding down a very active volcano, explored the delights of slightly dilapidated Granada, hitched and rode on bus roof-tops on Isla de Ometepe in Lake Nicaragua, and tried to see sea turtles (twice) in San Juan del Sur. The river was too flooded to reach the beach both times. Instead we entertained ourselves by body-boarding and playing a lot of cards before finally plucking up the courage to leave the cheap sanctuary of Nicaragua and head to costly Costa Rica...
Needless to say, we survived and caught the first bus out the next day and made it to Nicaragua, possibly the worst border crossing yet. Before the collectivo had even stopped the cycle taxis had removed our bags from the roof and stashed them in their rickshaws. So in between trying to pay the collectivo driver and work out where immigration is we also had to keep removing our bags from the clutches of Hondurans and Nicaraguans with dollar signs in their eyes. Of course in the end it all got too much and we gave up. Asking how much they'd charge they refused to name a price and instead claimed it was tip only. We remained wary, but went along anyway. Getting through both sides of immigration (and being charged entry into Nicaragua, despite this not being a valid charge due to the CA4 agreement, so maybe I should say “paying a bribe”) our drivers then demanded a tip of $20 US each. Just to give an idea, normally bus journeys are approximately $1 US per hour. Of course we refused and offered a dollar each for their services of 20 minutes (most of which was waiting for us at immigration). They demanded all the money we could give, and then took a little more, leaving us short for the only bus. The bus driver refused to take any currency other than cordobas (which is unusual for Central America), or to take payment at the other end when we could exchange more currency. He made a fuss very loudly and in the end the guy in front of me on the bus tapped my arm and thrust a handful of change into my hand – the 2 cordobas (approximately 5p) that we were short. So my faith in humanity was restored, and I revised my opinion of hating Nicaraguans as much as Hondurans to hating Nicaraguan taxi drivers. This opinion turned out to be accurate. As long as you avoided taxi drivers (who would tell you there is no bus, even if you can see it...), Nicaraguans were lovely people.
In Nicaragua we went volcano boarding down a very active volcano, explored the delights of slightly dilapidated Granada, hitched and rode on bus roof-tops on Isla de Ometepe in Lake Nicaragua, and tried to see sea turtles (twice) in San Juan del Sur. The river was too flooded to reach the beach both times. Instead we entertained ourselves by body-boarding and playing a lot of cards before finally plucking up the courage to leave the cheap sanctuary of Nicaragua and head to costly Costa Rica...
Wednesday 1 September 2010
Buen Viaje!
El Salvador turned out to be my favourite Central American country (so far that is!). There are many horrific stories and horrific reminders of a gruesome civil war, as in so many places in Central America, but it seems that through openly talking about the past they have reached acceptance of a brighter future. The country is mired with economic problems, high unemployment and the highest murder rate in the world, yet the people I met were the warmest, friendliest and most accepting people I have ever known. Unlike in other Central American countries, a conversation starting “What's your name? Where are you from?” is not immediately followed with “buy this”, instead continuing to “What do you do? Why are you here? What do you think of our country? Do you need any help? OK, have a safe journey!”.
In El Salvador I hitchhiked. I know that this isn't the safest thing to do in Central America (or anywhere for that matter), but it kept happening completely by accident. We would arrive somewhere having just missed a bus, or be waiting for a pickup (used as collective buses in the countryside of Central America) and someone would stop, ask where we were going and offer to take us there. When we got there (always they would drive out of their way to drop us somewhere perceived as safe) we would be about to offer to pay and they would hop back in their car, wish us a safe journey and give us a cheery wave as they sped off! I also found myself in many conversations on buses, the locals being happy to chat, and sometime not even caring if they were going too fast for my level of Spanish!
For such a beautiful country I didn't spend enough time there. I visited Alegria, a well cared for village nestled on an extinct volcano above the cloud line. The kind of place where everyone says “Hola!” in the streets, even to gringos. After Alegria I visited Perquin – headquarters for the FMLN during the civil war. Here I saw a museum dedicated to FMLN martyrs (usually commanders killed in action) – many of whom were students, and many women. We were showed around by an ex-guerrilla soldier, who was relieved to hear we were English, apparently the British ambassador was helpful to the FMLN during the war. One time that we didn't side with the US (who funded the government army). We saw exploded shells and some of the craters, and saw the FMLN radio station, Radio Venceremos (we will win – nothing like positive thinking!), basically a small room covered in egg boxes, yet the reason behind the El Mozote massacre. El Mozote was a small village around 15km from Perquin. The army thought it to be full of FMLN sympathisers, and possibly the site of Radio Venceremos, so they killed everybody. Down to the last child (the youngest recorded victim was 3 days old). The village was destroyed. Approximately 750 people died that day, but most of the bodies reclaimed are those of the children, and a peace garden with their names is now beside the church. The most haunting part of it was that some of the children are simply listed as “son of...” or “daughter of...” as no-one remains alive who knew their names. We were shown around by a lady who was 11 at the time. She was spared the massacre because she left the village early in the morning to work with her father at a finica, which was unusual for her. They returned to find they had lost everything. Yet in true El Salvadorian style El Mozote has risen from the ashes. Around the rebuilt church and memorials, the entire village has been rebuilt. Children play in the streets, cheery songs radiate from the church, and life goes on. Interestingly the civil war in El Salvador did eventually produce a change. The FMLN have formed a government.
In El Salvador I hitchhiked. I know that this isn't the safest thing to do in Central America (or anywhere for that matter), but it kept happening completely by accident. We would arrive somewhere having just missed a bus, or be waiting for a pickup (used as collective buses in the countryside of Central America) and someone would stop, ask where we were going and offer to take us there. When we got there (always they would drive out of their way to drop us somewhere perceived as safe) we would be about to offer to pay and they would hop back in their car, wish us a safe journey and give us a cheery wave as they sped off! I also found myself in many conversations on buses, the locals being happy to chat, and sometime not even caring if they were going too fast for my level of Spanish!
For such a beautiful country I didn't spend enough time there. I visited Alegria, a well cared for village nestled on an extinct volcano above the cloud line. The kind of place where everyone says “Hola!” in the streets, even to gringos. After Alegria I visited Perquin – headquarters for the FMLN during the civil war. Here I saw a museum dedicated to FMLN martyrs (usually commanders killed in action) – many of whom were students, and many women. We were showed around by an ex-guerrilla soldier, who was relieved to hear we were English, apparently the British ambassador was helpful to the FMLN during the war. One time that we didn't side with the US (who funded the government army). We saw exploded shells and some of the craters, and saw the FMLN radio station, Radio Venceremos (we will win – nothing like positive thinking!), basically a small room covered in egg boxes, yet the reason behind the El Mozote massacre. El Mozote was a small village around 15km from Perquin. The army thought it to be full of FMLN sympathisers, and possibly the site of Radio Venceremos, so they killed everybody. Down to the last child (the youngest recorded victim was 3 days old). The village was destroyed. Approximately 750 people died that day, but most of the bodies reclaimed are those of the children, and a peace garden with their names is now beside the church. The most haunting part of it was that some of the children are simply listed as “son of...” or “daughter of...” as no-one remains alive who knew their names. We were shown around by a lady who was 11 at the time. She was spared the massacre because she left the village early in the morning to work with her father at a finica, which was unusual for her. They returned to find they had lost everything. Yet in true El Salvadorian style El Mozote has risen from the ashes. Around the rebuilt church and memorials, the entire village has been rebuilt. Children play in the streets, cheery songs radiate from the church, and life goes on. Interestingly the civil war in El Salvador did eventually produce a change. The FMLN have formed a government.
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