Since San Jose was doing nothing for me, I figured I needed
to get to the coast. Water makes
everything better, so I decided to visit the city of Jaco (pronounced Hock-o)
and get in some beach time.
My host in San Jose was kind enough to steer me to the local
bus station as Google Maps had mislead me.
Please note: Costa Ricans use the Waze app for navigation as opposed to
anything else as it is the most accurate.
I managed to find my way on foot to the Terminal 7-10 station to buy a
ticket to the coast. The next morning, I caught an Uber to the station (way too
early – I’m accustomed to being at the airport two hours early which really
isn’t an issue with buses) and caught the bus to Jaco.
The host of my next AirBNB, called the Elephant in the Room, suggested I have the driver stop
directly at the entrance to the hotel/club and he would meet me there to guide
me to the apartment. I didn’t end up
doing that, but it turns out that was probably the better move. Jaco is about 1 ½ hours to the west of San Jose. Not a bad ride but being unfamiliar with the
area, I wasn’t sure what the city or my new place would look like. I wasn’t expecting another high-rise, but what
I got was … wait. I’m getting ahead of
myself.
The bus made its final stop at a building that I assumed was
the bus station. It just looked like a
building to me. I messaged the host and
asked for further directions. I ended up
grabbing a cab because it turns out the property is not in the city proper but
about 20 minutes further inland. But it
was advertised as having beach access. I
was confused as we left the lovely little beach town and headed back the way
I’d come. Already, I’m getting
apprehensive. The town was
walkable. I could see the beach from the
road. Where were we going?
We got to the club, but there was a hiccup. It’s a gated community and the security guard
had no idea what I was talking about when I asked to meet with Jonathan, the
host. He had sent me his wife’s number
and my cab driver called her for directions.
Turns out, we were in the right place but the wrong road. There was a public road just down the street
that we had to take.
Most of that ‘road’ was nothing more than a pock-marked stretch of dirt that led to the back of the property. I found out later that these rough roads were not uncommon in Costa Rica as the infrastructure is not great (already noticed that with the sidewalks in San Jose). As we’re bouncing around on this curvy path, I’m sitting there wondering just what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. This felt less like an adventure and more like a colossal pain in the ass. There is nothing on the dirt road, no shops, restaurants, or anything. And I had no car. Okay.
We arrived at a house and a woman came out to greet us. This was the owner’s wife, Rita, who didn’t speak a word of English. Thank God for my cab driver. He was not only patient and willing to help, but he acted as translator. Rita called her husband for confirmation and held the phone out to me. So there I am, not sure I’m in the right place, sweating buckets while bent over the phone listening to Jonathan tell me about the place. My cab driver is waiting nearby, leaning out of the car window for the occasional translation duty. It took some time to realize that I was in the right place, after which the driver unloaded my luggage. I gave him all the cash I could for a tip and it still wasn’t enough. He earned every penny. I only wish I’d gotten his info so he could pick me up when I was ready to leave.
Rita briefly showed me around before handing me the keys and
then disappearing. The place looks like
the pictures. With its placement beneath
another home, I could tell that it was converted into an
apartment. The laundry room is huge, the
walls are made of concrete, and the kitchen has plenty of counter space but no
drawers. This was just originally
designed to be the basement/laundry room for the larger house. All of that didn’t bother me. My issue was that there was no air
conditioner in the main area, just a woefully inadequate ceiling fan. Thank goodness, there is an AC unit in the
bedroom otherwise there was no way I could stay there. Every time I opened the sliding glass door to
the bedroom in the morning, a certain Guns and Roses song would run through my
head. The heat would actually leave
condensation on the door each day.
Here’s a bit of advice that should be a no-brainer: don’t go to the jungle in August. It’s freaking hot! San Jose had lulled me into a false sense of what Costa Rica is like. Those mountains and the rain kept things almost cold a couple of days. The bus ride was my first indication that things were about to get steamy as each mile saw the temperature and humidity go up. In Jaco, even when it rains, the sun is shining, and the temperature doesn’t budge. As pretty as the area is, the apartment made me long for the place in San Jose and I didn’t even like that city.
But still, the beach is nice. Located about a mile from the apartment, past
a bunch of houses, a hotel, a restaurant, and a convenience store, the secluded
beach was rarely crowded. And hey! Monkeys.
And I didn’t have to trek that far to see them.
And … that’s about it for attractions in the area. Without a car, there’s not much to see. Several of the communities between my apartment and the beach had guards restricting access. The host told me I’d need to pay for a wristband to get to some of the other restaurants and pool areas. Without one, I was very limited in what I could access. That made me feel like a second-class citizen or a dirty little secret instead of a paying guest. And it left me bored and itching to leave the place as soon as possible.
Or maybe it was just the bugs that were making me itch.
I realize that I was in the rainforest. There will be critters and yes, I was in their home. But did they have to keep crawling on me? The bug bites multiplied as I was constantly killing things that made their way into the apartment. Animals made noises at all hours of the day and night. Every rustling bush had me jumping whenever I walked by. It was a bit much.
The surprisingly well stocked convenience store had multiple brands of Costa Rican coffee for sale. I bought a bag and eagerly prepared it on my second day there. I had 1½-2 cups of coffee on that one day and the results were … explosive. Days of stomach upset and rushing to the toilet.
The power blinked a couple of times while there. One day it went out for a bit longer, so I
decided to go to the beach. Two hours
later and it was still out. Messaged the
host who said it wouldn’t be back up until 6 that evening. I wasn’t happy about that but figured it
would be fine as long as it was back up before bedtime (seriously the place was
swelteringly hot. There’s no way I could
sleep there without A/C. It’s not like I could open the windows without
inviting in ALL the critters).
Fortunately, after being out for about three hours, the power came back
on.
Yeah. Costa Rica wasn’t
feeling me either.
And I would be in the country for another two weeks.
Great.
Just a note: while I was in Jaco, news came out about the
wildfires in Hawaii. Maui is still one
of my favorite places on the planet. I drove to the city of Lahaina four times
while I was there. And now it’s just
gone. I feel so bad for the residents
losing their homes and all that history.
The world is going to hell, folks. I hope you get a chance
to see it before it’s all gone.
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