Squinting at the sun and sipping cold lagers; we had arrived in Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, a small town on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica. A local passes by and says ‘Pura Vida’, the national expression of positivity, gratitude and living life to the fullest. We would learn the expression has multiple functions that can be inserted into almost any sentence in Costa Rica. It also seems to be the password to every wifi network in the country.
After the beers, we took a walk through the jungle tracking the coastline to the south. We met a hippy selling his trinkets to raise money for a return trip home. I am always intrigued by the enterprising nature of those who choose to exist outside ‘the system’. He had the look of someone slapped in the face by Adam Smith’s invisible hand. In his defence, Costa Rican prices are not backpacker friendly. World class ecotourism comes with a price tag. Leisa and I were aware of this, so we only gave ourselves two weeks to explore Costa Rica before crossing into Nicaragua.
The next morning we awoke to the sound of howler monkeys. We planned to rent bikes and head south towards Manzanillo National Park, stopping at some beaches along the way. Our favourite was Punta Uva, an isolated cove where lush jungle met clear turquoise water. After a short swim, we continued on to the national park, hoping to beat the midday heat. We arrived feeling drained and hungry. Instead of hiking, we found a beach and gorged ourselves on our budget-friendly tuna avocado wraps. Afterwards we took a much needed siesta and drifted out of consciousness to the sound of waves, birds and monkeys.
That afternoon we took a hike into the hinterland of Puerto Viejo with a Dutch bloke we met the night before. After a steep climb, we came to a viewpoint where we spotted toucans and monkeys. We were also joined by a dog, whom we decided to call Toucan. Instead of doubling back, I suggested we follow one of the smaller jungle paths that, according to Maps.me, would loop us back to the beach.
In reality, the track was barely discernible from the thick vegetation. The light was fading and the mosquitos were out in force. Even our canine guide Toucan had abandoned us. Thankfully, after some serious bush bashing, we emerged from the jungle. This experience reminded me of my childhood, when my dad would get us lost on family hiking trips. We always joked he did this on purpose to spend more time hiking. I didn’t mind because I knew there was a greater chance Dad would take us to Maccas afterwards.
The next morning I went for a walk on one of the jungle tracks that ran along the coast. The sound of howler monkeys was deafening. It wasn’t light yet and I could hear rustling in the leaves around my feet. As it got lighter, I realised there were hundreds of bright red poison dart frogs hopping around the vegetation floor. I went for a swim, trying to dodge an army of crabs as I entered the water. I brought goggles with me and swam along the inner reef following large schools of reef fish. After the swim I sat on the sand to meditate while the sun rose over the Caribbean sea. When I am at my desk and weighed down by the daily grind, I hope I can return to this moment. Pura Vida.