I initially had planned to stay in Nicaragua for six weeks or so, for the main reason that it’s cheap if you can live of a decent western European salary. Sure, there are some tourist traps, especially in places like Granada, where a drink or a meal would cost the same as in Europe, but in general, the country is most affordable.
Living and Leaving Nicaragua
When I had just arrived in Nicaragua and was on my way from the airport to Granada, I admired the stamp in my passport and checked the tourist visa, that was a small loose paper. I noticed, that the border person at the airport had given me a 30-day visa, rather than the standard 90 days, so I had to reconsider my plans. Quite a few people, after giving me the same weary look, when I told them about my 30-day visa, suggested I do a visa run. Yet, when my visa was about to expire, I felt I was done with Nicaragua. Although I had a good time and had met lovely people, I just wasn’t quite that captured by the Nica vibes and felt ready to move on.
I had spent the last week of my month in Nicaragua in surfer town San Juan del Sur, which is only 30km or so from the Costa Rican border. The plan was to go to another surfer town across the border, very popular with a certain type of American tourist and affluent pensioners, officially called Tamarindo and mockingly named Tamagringo. The town is not that far from the border, but I spent the whole day travelling, queuing and waiting nevertheless. Travelling all day to cover a short distance seems to have been a theme for me in Costa Rica, but more about that in future posts.
Making the Journey into Costa Rica
After a pleasant taxi ride from San Juan del Sur to the border and some formalities at the Nicaraguan side that were dealt with swiftly, I had to queue for an hour and a half to enter Costa Rica. The Costa Rican border formalities were dealt with by a female official. Not always, but in many cases, dealing with ‘sisters’ on these occasions is even worse, when it comes to unfriendliness and exercise of perceived power, than being at the ‘mercy’ of their male counterparts. So much for ‘pura vida’, which is the county’s catchphrase and literally means ‘pure life’. Like any cliche, there is a sense of truth, but a big fat cliche it is nevertheless. Female border official was by no means representative for the general population, as Ticos, as Costa Rican folks are called, are incredible friendly, easy-going and on most occasions always up for a chat. They are also a very mixed people when it comes to shades, from white folk with light brown or even dark blond hair, to morenos with Dark-Fairy shades. Because of that and because Ticos are so used to Americans and other gringos of all shades, I was considered far less exotic than in Nicaragua and there was no need for stares or cat calls.
After the Border Bollocks
After I got my stamp I was able to board a bus to the town of Liberia, that left pretty much straight away. For most bus journeys in Costa Rica, you don’t need to buy a ticket at a window, but you pay the bus driver directly. After a journey of an hour or so, we arrived at Liberia’s main bus station. I had missed the connection to Tamarindo by 10 minutes and had to wait two hours for the next bus. A taxi driver was really selling himself and his vehicle, starting at $40, lowering to $35 after several of my ‘nos’ and not accepting the $32 I offered. An hour later, when he had found trade in the form of two traveller-tourists, he lowered it to $15, as I would be sharing with the couple. But I was in stingy mode and I reasoned it was worth to wait another hour to pay a fraction of the price. While I was waiting, I struck up conversation with a young mother and tried a local snack called rosquillas (say rosKEEyahs, rosKEELyahs, or rosKEEshahs, depending on the accent (Tico, Spain- Spanish or Argentinian-Spanish). It is a corn snack with cheese flavour in the form of a square framework made up of several small circles with holes, like dry mini donuts. The woman I was chatting to told me, that people tend to have the snack in the afternoon with coffee. I thought it was bit dry, but quite tasty.
En Route
After the bus had finally arrived, it took another two hours to get to Tamarindo, where I arrived at 18.30, having left San Juan del Sur in Nicaragua at 10 in the morning and only having covered about 200km. The bus stopped right in front of the hotel/ B&B, where I had booked a dorm bed, which was a bonus. The dorm had fancy B&B standards and was one of the best dorms I ever stayed at. Well designed, balcony with sea view, large ensuite bedroom and comfy beds with quality bed linen. Breakfast was amazing too. I only spent two nights in town, which came down to one full day. Besides a fantastic beach, with good swell, a view on howler monkeys swinging through the trees from the garden and some decent eateries, charging western prices, I really didn’t think the place was that special. It’s full of Americans and other gringos, many of them actually living in town and for that reason English is far more widely spoken then in Nicaragua or Mexico and even if a Tico speaks little English, most are willing to make the effort, with the little vocab they have.
My next stop after Tamarindo was Santa Teresa, further south on the Nicoya peninsula, where I was to indulge in some yoga and surf. I initially planned to take public transport, as tourist shuttles are quite pricey, but decided against it after getting some advice. It would have taken me several busses and the whole day, if I was lucky, that is. At a certain stretch on the route there wasn’t even public transport available, so I was happy to have chosen the comfort of the shuttle travelling with foreign wanders and Ticos alike, which made it an entertaining journey.
top image: sanjuandelsurbackpackers.com
middle image: pinterest
bottom image: tripadvisor
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