Not content with tempting the Grim Reaper the day before, we figured we’d give him an eyepoke. That’s right, we decided to strap into our Suzuki Shitera, rev the Singer sewing machine engine to the max, and go out and explore Costa Rica.

But before we left, I wanted to brush up on my Spanish a bit. As we learned the previous day, the cops don’t take bribes anymore, so I thought that, in the unlikely event we had another run in with the law, it might be beneficial to at least attempt to break down the language barrier. I’d brought along a copy of Lonely Planet’s ‘Mexican Spanish’ and decided to take a few minutes to learn some more words en Español.

That’s One Big Book – or – Un Libro Grande

To be honest, books like this are generally as useless as the Rosetta Stone DVD. Even if you manage to ask, “Pardon me, do you happen to have a tourniquet handy?” correctly in Spanish, you’ll never understand the answer, BECAUSE IT WILL BE IN SPANISH!! But still, in the event of an arrest, forcefully saying, “¡Quiero ponerme en contacto con mi embajada!” will certainly earn a laugh or two from my fellow prisoners.

It turns out the little Lonely Planet book is the exception, it’s quite useful, because it contains valuable phrases, from; “Quiero reservar un cuarto.” (I want to reserve a room,) to “Se perdieron mis maletas.” (I’ve lost my luggage – a very valuable phrase to know if you fly Delta much) Also included is what I thought would’ve been a helpful phrase; “¿Podemos pagar una muelta de contado?” (Can we pay an on the spot fine?) After yesterday’s encounter, this phrase’s usefulness was in doubt. But Lonely Planet guides aren’t really aimed at casual tourists, they are more for world tramping backpackers, whose needs are a bit… let’s say… different. For those people, the Lonely Planet thoughtfully added a section on getting laid.

Seriously!

Some examples:

“¿Tienes un condón?” – Do you have a condom?

“Tócame aquí.” – Touch me here.

“Lo siento, no se me para.” – I’m sorry, I can’t get it up (I swear!)

The only thing really missing from their guide is the phrase: “She was dead when I got here.” I’m sure the guy we met the other night at the bar that claimed to be in Costa Rica to ‘learn Spanish’ knew that one.

Exploring is a genetic defect of mine. In 2004 I rode a glorified dirt bike from Los Angeles to Alaska and back. Two years ago I rode a super crotch rocket across the US, just to see what was out there. The first three months of riding season this year are already overbooked, with Nashville, Scotland and Nova Scotia already planned out. Though I try, I can’t sit still, especially if I’m in a country that contains active volcanoes. Volcanoes? Active ones? LET’S GO! My curiosity always drives me to see what’s around the next corner. Always. I’m drawn to exploring like flies are drawn to… well… whatever flies are drawn to. Yes, we were in a resort with a beautiful beach, and yes we paid for a full week, and even though we were supposed to be on a vacation, having a vehicle, even if it’s just a Shitera, sitting idle while there are sights to see and lands to conquer, well, I just can’t do it. Poor Fiona sometimes just wants to relax, but that’s pretty difficult with me pacing up and down right next to her all day long. I can’t do it. I figure I’ll get plenty of rest when I’m dead.

And while driving with the Ticos might speed up the arrival date of that eternal rest period, we were willing to take that chance. So, packing a few T shirts and not much else, and safely locking the rest of our belongings in the hotel safe, we set off on yet another harebrained Frenchy adventure. Looking at the map, we decided to take the long way, driving all the way around the very beautiful Lake Arenal, take a peek at the volcano, then find a place to stay for the night. The next day we’d see what we felt like doing, and drive all day to do it. As far as vacations go, this plan sounds perfect to me.

An hour after leaving, we stopped for lunch at a little place called ‘Soda Nuvia’. A soda is basically a very small, open air restaurant, often without a menu, that local people eat lunch at. In Costa Rica these sodas can be found all over, from a busy town square to the dead middle of nowhere. Our waitress spoke no English, and there was no menu with convenient pictures of food to point at. I broke the ice by attempting to order my favorite dish, “arroz con zapatos” which made her laugh uncontrollably. Instead of ordering rice with chicken, it seems I asked her to bring me rice with shoes. Realizing this, we all had a chuckle. Fiona and I both got the chicken anyway.

After getting the hang of driving with the Ticos, I realized it’s really not that bad. In fact it’s a bit similar to driving in Ireland, except Tico’s drive on the right side of the road. In Ireland, people will race up behind you, just to see what you’re doing. Irish drivers are perfectly content to stick to your rear bumper. In Costa Rica, drivers are more concerned with what might be happening in front of you. When they come up behind, they’ll pass you, no matter what. After a while, it became a game of sorts, how long will it take from the time the driver identified me to the time it took him to risk his life showing me how much faster his four wheeled bucket of shit was than mine.

Passed By A Truck Full of Oranges?!?

Once we got inland, we had the roads mostly to ourselves, and the driving was much better.

Capitalizing on the strong winds that whip down from the surrounding mountains, Lake Arenal has become one of the top destinations for wind surfers, and we saw many of them flying across the waves. Lake Arenal was beautiful, and rounding one particularly sharp corner, we thought we might have glimpsed the actual cone of the volcano peeking out from the opposite end. Oh yeah! This might just be our lucky day, as the cone of Arenal Volcano is normally hidden by a thick blanket of clouds.We followed the road as it wound around the lake toward the volcano, stopping along the way when something grabbed our interest.

The closer we got to The Mighty Fire Mountain called Arenal, the later it got. Soon it would be dark, and I didn’t like the idea of driving on these roads in the dark. We needed to find a place to stay for the night.

Only problem was, there were no places to be found. Anywhere. In fact, other than some trees, there wasn’t much of anything on the road. We drove until twilight, when we came on the Tabacón Thermal Spa. It looked a bit pricey for our tastes, but when faced with no other real options, you can’t be too picky.

I walked up to the desk and confidently stated, “Quiero reservar un cuarto.” Without looking up from his computer screen, and without laughing, the clerk said, “240 a night.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out he wasn’t quoting the price in colones. Continuing to ignore me, he droned, “No volcano view, hot spring bus ride included, but not including breakfast.” Dredging up some more long forgotten Spanish, I replied, “El Paso.”

Two miles down the road we passed a place called Hotel Campo Verde. Little cabins dotted the hillside, so we stopped in. For $65 we had our very own cabin with one of the world’s most active volcanoes in our back yard. There are always other options, so sometimes it pays to be picky. Of course, clouds covered the top of the volcano, as they do nearly every day of the year, but we were assured it was there.

Volcano? What volcano?

Even this cabin, in the middle of nowhere, had a warning sign that read something like this:

Welcome to our cabin, be sure lock everything up, even your eyeglasses, dentures and pocket lint at all times. Leave it out and it will disappear. We are not responsible for stolen lint.

Valuable pocket lint secured, we drove into the little town for dinner. We had a choice of a little steakhouse or a bigger steakhouse. Both were empty. We chose the little one, figuring they’d be happier for the business. As we sat down, the one thing I’d come all this way to get away from was staring me right in the face.

The restaurant was vacant. The solitary waiter in the vacant restaurant was passing time by watching TV.

On that TV? WWE Smackdown.

But dinner was good anyway.

We returned to our little private cabin, locked up the rest of our valuables (maps, pens, gum, GPS, Costa Rica for Dummies book) and settled in to watch our own private volcano show. Arenal, one of the world’s most active volcanoes, violently spewed ash and hot molten lava down its sides for most of the night. It was truly a magical and memorable end to a magical and memorable day. **

Author: frenchy

One Response to “Costa Rica – Las Montañas del Fuego”

1. Hol says:

   March 4, 2008 at 3:40 PM

   Frenchy – I really enjoy reading about your travels. You are a wonderful writer – Keep it Up! – It sounds like you & Fi had a great time. Thanks for posting this so a mostly home-bound single mom of three can have a vicarious thrill. Now, off to take the kids to swim lessons. Yee-haw!

   Reply