The Pure Life in Costa Rica

If ever there were a phrase that fully captured the true essence of a people and a land, it would be “pura vida.” To the people of Costa Rica, who call themselves Ticos, “pura vida” means many things. They use the phrase in most every aspect of their speech – as a greeting, reply, adjective and noun. Costa Rica is home of the beautiful Tico people, the lazy three-toed sloth, the ancient leatherback turtle and some of the most succulent pineapples in the world. It is more than a tiny country nestled between Nicaragua and Panama. It’s a paradise. Costa Rica is where the sweet scent of rainforest lingers in the air, the beaches extend forever and the people truly understand the meaning of pure life.

My first introduction to Costa Rica was in the capital city, San José. Set in the lush central valley of the country, San José boasts all the modern attributes of a city with 300,000 people: nightclubs, gridlock traffic, department stores and pollution. However, what makes this city unique is the contrast of North American and Latin American culture. While people bustle passed Burger King and chat on their mobile phones, vendors wheel rickety wagons full of tropical fruit in the streets, young men peddle their bikes as their girlfriends sit daintily on the handlebars, and every shop blasts lively salsa music. The city’s main market is quite a spectacle for the unsuspecting tourist. At Mercado Central, the aroma of fruit and livestock hangs in the air and the buzz of daily business echoes throughout the gigantic space. Hundreds of stands advertise everything from fresh produce and live poultry to handmade sandals and jewellery. While San José is a gentle introduction to Central America, it wasn’t until I left the city on a cheap bus bound for the west coast that I really began to sense the true spirit of Costa Rica.

As the bus left the bustling city in the dust, I was transported into a different world. On the way to the coast, a vibrant countryside unfolded around me with green hillsides and flourishing tropical flora. Farmers toiled on their land, many of them living in humble homes, sheltered by tin roofs and thin wood. We passed through many small villages on the six-hour journey to the coast – with each stop bringing new faces: passengers unloading with others taking their place and food vendors hopping on to pedal fresh mangos, plantain chips and frozen treats. Locals lounged near the bus stops, chatting with their neighbours as their children played soccer and tag in the warm evening. As dusk descended and our bus sped along the bumpy road, the silhouette of palm trees darkened against the setting sun and the coastline unravelled like a purple blanket.

Costa Rica’s Pacific coast boasts some of the most breathtaking spots in the country. One of the most beautiful spots on the west coast is Mal País, located on the very south-western tip of the Peninsula de Nicoya. This town was worth the 12-hour journey on three buses and two ferries I endured. Mal País is comprised of two side-by-side communities that overlook a 6km expanse of golden beach and turquoise ocean. It is the perfect haven for beachcombers and surfers. While the area is mainly supported by a growing tourism industry, it is still nothing more than a handful of restaurants, an internet café and a couple of beachside nightclubs - a refreshing change from the more commercial tourist towns. It is the simplicity that makes the area so appealing. Mal País is the kind of place one would go to spend a few days and end up staying their whole vacation. This might be due to the difficulty to get anywhere and the extreme heat, which makes for a lazy mood throughout the town.

Although I spent a week surfing, sunbathing and relaxing on the heavenly beaches of Mal País, I also discovered a deeper layer to Costa Rica. I met a man named, Hermano, who worked at my hostel. He was only in his early twenties, but he had an air of assuredness one would find in someone twice his age. We had a conversation one night about his life in Costa Rica. He had a college education, but went from job to job following the cycle of the tourist season. He said that the only sustainable work is in the main cities, San José and Cartago, and most Ticos who live on the coast are nomadic, working wherever they can. Many have several jobs and work an average of 12 hours per day to support their families. “And here we were,” I said, “North Americans, taking time off work, spending our money on pure hedonism.” To that, he shrugged nonchalantly. It was just a fact of life for Ticos. Still, I couldn’t help but feel guilty for my privileged life back in Canada

A few days later, I left Mal País and headed north along the Pacific coast, passing more villages sprinkled with modest, but cozy houses.
My last stop on the coast was Tamarindo, a large tourist town in the north. It was there, one windy starlit night around midnight that I witnessed Mother Nature at her finest. There are only seven spots in the world where leatherback turtles return to lay their eggs, and Tamarindo is one of them.

I joined a tour that took me to the nesting area. On the way to the beach, the guide told our group that leatherbacks are unique because, no matter where in the world they swim to as adults – often as far north as Cape Sable, Nova Scotia - they will always find their way back to their birthplace to lay eggs. We waited for four hours at the site, falling asleep in the sand under a clear sky, while our guides searched determinedly for signs of the mysterious 300-pound turtles. Just when we thought our trip had been futile, an excited guide called that he had found a lone leatherback laying her eggs in the distance. Walking in single file so as not to disturb her, we crept up behind the majestic creature hovering over the hole she had dug in the sand. She noticed she had a blinking red indicator on her tracking device that seemed an odd contrast to her bulky dinosaur-like shell.

Close by, a newly-hatched turtle squirmed his way down the sand in search of the ocean. Wriggling in circles and occasionally flipping onto his back by mistake, the little critter seemed to have an amazing sense of direction. A half-hour later, we all watched in silent awe as the baby turtle dipped his tiny head into the Pacific Ocean. He made it a long way: passing by crashing surf, under the radar of predators and into the open sea. He had miraculously found his way to his new home. Watching this amazing cycle of life, first-hand, put Mother Nature’s amazing power into perspective.

I remained in Tamarindo until the end of the week. After I’d had my share of coconuts, called “pipas,” and swallowed my share of salt water from failed surfing attempts, I decided to head inland for a taste of fresh water and rainforest. My first stop was La Fortuna.

Look for the final installment of The Pure Life February 25

Written and photographed by Amber Turnau

For more on Costa Rica at ITKT

Written by Amber Turnau

Last 3 posts by Amber Turnau

• The War of Tomatoes, Spain - September 3rd, 2008
• Meditating with Monks - May 22nd, 2007
• When Hell Freezes Over - February 7th, 2007

Links & Info