Expecting the unexpected in Costa Rica

The rugged, rainforested Costa Rica is home to a number of cultural institutions and protected jungle. The Central American country with coastlines on the Caribbean and Pacific, boasts beautiful beaches and is well known for its volcanoes and biodiversity. Jan Westmaas recently visited Costa Rica with a tour group and this is the first of a three-part account of the adventures of his ten-day visit.

Ever travelled abroad and had gallo pinto (red beans and rice) for breakfast, a casado (a married man) for lunch – really a meal of rice, black beans, fried plantain, vegetables, and if non-vegetarian, a choice of chicken, fish, beef or pork to go with it? And when you’re ready to pay your bill, your waiter or waitress greets you with a warm smile and regales you with the words "pura vida" (pure life)? Well, if you’ve had this experience, quite likely you’ve been to Costa Rica, a country when translated into English, means "Rich Coast."

The story behind the name is that Columbus, on his final voyage in 1502 while sailing the Caribbean shores of Costa Rica, was impressed by the vast quantities of gold jewels worn by the indigenous people. He named the land accordingly. I understand that one anti-discoverer radical suggests that a name change for his country is long overdue. He prefers his country to be re-named Pura Vida. Considering the country’s unabashed love for nature and its myriad experiments since its independence from Spain in 1821 to craft a pure, unadulterated identity for itself, one can understand his reasoning. The country may not get the name change he desires, but some day it may yet achieve the pura vida many Ticos, an affectionate term for Costa Ricans, are desperately in search of.

My first visit to this iconic Central American country with 631 miles of Pacific Coast to its west, 132 miles of Caribbean coast to its east, a lengthy border with Nicaragua to its north (192 miles) and an even lengthier one with Panama to its south (216 miles), takes me all the way back to 1975. Then, a mere youth of 24, I spent little time there. For me the country simply served as an overland conduit through Central America to the Mexican Highlands and the Yucatan Peninsula as I went in search of the more ancient cultures of the Aztecs and the Mayas.

Sadly, nowadays, Costa Rica is an illegal conduit for thousands of migrants, many of whom are Venezuelans, our nearest neighbours. They brave the God-forsaken and dangerous Darien Gap between Colombia and Panama in pursuit of the American dream.

On my recent ten-day visit to Costa Rica, I got more acquainted with the country, having travelled by bus to five of its seven provinces – San Jose, Cartago, Guanacaste, Puntarenas, and Alajuela. The other two provinces – Limon and its capital Puerto Limon on the Caribbean coast and Heredia, I had visited on previous occasions. The Braulio Carillo National Park, one of the largest of the country’s 28 national parks (50,000 hectares) spans three provinces and is located in the province of Heredia.

On this trip, part of which took place in Semana Santa (Holy Week), I had the pleasant and supportive company of a group of 23 daring travellers, male and female, the latter in the majority. Travellers in our group ranged from people their 40s to one couple in their early 80s! Thirteen members of the group had been with me before and had known what to expect and, most of all, had known to expect the unexpected. The rest soon settled in as if they were seasoned travellers.

The morning we arrived in Costa Rica we did a short walking tour of San Jose, the country’s main city. In 1823 it replaced Cartago, the country’s first capital. It took a brief civil war, the Battle of Ochomogo, between the Carthaginians who wanted Costa Rica to remain part of the Mexican Empire and the people from San Jose and Alajuela, to settle the issue over a new capital. At first glance San Jose is indeed a modern, metropolitan capital with plazas, parks with an abundance of trees and brightly flowering shrubs, large avenues, pedestrianised streets and the inevitable traffic, such as you would see in any developed country. Despite the shock to the economy posed by the pandemic and its effect on tourism in particular, you still get the feeling that you are in a prosperous country that had seen steady economic growth over a number of years. The reality, however, from all accounts, is that the level of poverty is rising.

Our morning walk with Pedro, our guide, took us past the large neoclassical Metropolitan Cathedral that was built in 1871 and the National Theatre, in front of which tall sculptures of Spanish playwright, Calderon de La Barca and German composer, Ludwig Van Beethoven, enjoy pride of place. We eventually ended up at the city’s bustling, indoor market. With some hesitation, we ventured through a Moroccan-style maze of narrow corridors with vendors in their stalls selling fruit and spices and and an array of other goods. In-between the stalls were mini-restaurants with high seats for two or three customers.

Back out into the open and heading towards the Central Park, I was struck most of all by the space given by the city’s authorities to the nation’s sculptors with many of them having their work on permanent display in parks and at street corners. In full view near to the Central Bank stood La Chola – a 500-kilogramme statue of a corpulent, proud peasant woman in bronze by Manuel Vargas. Reminiscent of the great Colombian sculptor Fernando Botero, its form is exaggerated to a voluptuous degree. Vargas’ intention is to challenge traditional stereotypes and bring dignity and respect to all women. Vargas, indeed, brought respectability to La Chola, a term traditionally used in a disrespectful way to refer to poor, indigenous or Afro-descended women in Latin America.

Earlier, Pedro, had drawn our attention to the work – Los Presentes – of another sculptor, Fernan Calvo (1982). Pedro surmised that while the work in bronze, in which nine life-sized sculptures are supposed to represent the everyday people of Costa Rica, their glum faces and their motionless bodies might be a satirical representation of how people looked when they were oppressed by the military. Ironically the work is on permanent display in front of the building that was once the headquarters of the army which Costa Rica abolished in 1949, after more than two thousand lives were lost in a civil war.

On Holy Thursday, heeding the advice of Carlos, our bus driver, we left earlier than scheduled for Irazu, Costa Rica’s highest active volcano (3432 metres above sea level). The new plan was to visit Cartago and Orosí on the way back from Irazu. Cartago is the country’s first capital and is also the site of the Basilica of Nuestra Señora de los Angeles (Our Lady of Angels), the country’s patron saint. Orisí is an idyllic and charming village that is the site of the country’s oldest functioning church (1743).

Though it was a mere 55 kilometres from the capital, it took us at least an hour and a half to get to the volcano. The first part of the journey on the Florencio de Castillo highway to Cartago went by in a jiffy. From there, it was all uphill on a sound but winding road through the scenic countryside communities of Cot, Tierra Blanca, Potrero Cerrado and San Juan de Chicua. We had to share the way with backpackers and with a long line of cyclists, some two abreast, clothed in the brightest of colours, male and female and of varying ages. Many appeared to be competitive riders in training while others were clearly on a long, recreational ride. Against a backdrop of undulating dairy, potato, cabbage and carrot farms, the scene was breathtaking. We finally reached the top of El Coloso (the Colossus), name given by locals because of the many catastrophes associated with the volcano. Ash from eruptions in the first half of the 60s rained down on residents of Cartago and San Jose for four years. Irazu, we later learnt, from Federico, a farmer, vulcanologist, restaurateur and curator of the volcano museum located five kilometres downhill from the volcano, is an indigenous word meaning "thunder!"

Despite what has happened in the past and what will invariably happen again, when you gaze down the vertical walls of the main crater which is 1,050 metres in diameter and 300 meters in depth, a feeling of awe and ecstasy grabs hold of you.

Look out for part two in next Sunday's Newsday