Five Shitty Things No One Tells You About Costa Rica

Some travel website thought my rants about Costa Rica were worth publishing, because I was writing something different from the usual happy, smiling green tree frogs, cute tree sloths, "Pura Vida" bullshit.  I submitted one blog post; they published it, paid me, and I spent the money on a bottle of Flor De Caña Rum to celebrate my success.  

Not surprisingly, the post comments were split 50/50 between: "You wrote a well-researched, informative AND funny article," and "You're an ignorant asshole, gringo."  I responded to the negative comments in Spanish.

Following this, the website requested a write-up to be titled, Things Nobody Ever Tells You About Costa Rica.  This is the result.  Even though this article is a series of true stories, it must have scared them off, since I haven't heard from them yet, but my irritated Tweets prompted them to finally publish it.

Maybe you won't be offended by my Five Reasons Costa Rica Sucks (the real title,) Five Shitty Things No One Tells You About Costa Rica, an even better title they chose.  After reading it again, I decided to edit it and add more information in order to shut down the haters I expected to get.

Too late.  It got published before the additional edits.

It wouldn't have mattered anyway.   People today have Internet ADHD and just have the patience to read 140 character Tweets before making a well-informed, "Y U SUK, LOLZ" opinion.  Judging by the posts, most readers got halfway through the first paragraph of the article before writing profanity-filled, misspelled, Wikipedia-researched comments.  They vehemently defended Costa Rica's rose-tinted tourist wonderland image, and most assumed I was an ignorant redneck who hadn't traveled anywhere outside of the "First World."  Apparently, clicking on my blog link with 2 years worth of travel posts was too much effort...

Enjoy the complete version, with further edits if I ever feel motivated.
   

Article For Matador Network:

Everyone told me I live in "The Happiest Country In The World."  So why after 2 years in Costa Rica am I paranoid, depressed, alcoholic and ready to shoot the next person who calls me, my friend?  My concerns started before my flight had even landed at the haphazard concrete and steel structure they call Juan Santamaria International Airport.

I thought I would have a nice, quiet flight with an empty seat next to me.  Not quite.  Right as the last boarding call was announced, a sweaty, extremely hairy kid sporting a tie-dyed shirt and Birkenstocks rushed into the plane and slumped down next to me.  He gave off an odor of marijuana-tainted apathy, and most likely planned to live in some organic commune in the middle of the jungle with a ragtag bunch of other idealistic hippies who hate "the system," but ironically made enough money from it to escape.  After we took off, he pulled out a tinfoil-wrapped package and asked me in a conspiratorial tone, "Do you eat brownies...Y'know, special ones?" 

Mmm, tasty.

Going through customs always makes me paranoid.  Doing it with weed-induced altitude sickness makes me want to lash out at first sight of the menacing, gun-toting customs officers who greet me at the airport.  This dirty hippie gave me a fitting introduction to the many problems I would encounter while living in paradise.

1. Naive Tourists: Tourists like my tie-dyed friend hear many anecdotes praising Costa Rica as the veritable utopia of Latin America, a part of the world known more for drug trafficking, violent crime, kidnapping, and poverty.  They assume that if the travel industry calls it "The Switzerland Of Central America," then surely it must function as efficiently and safely as that little quasi-neutral European country.  I stepped out of Juan Santamaria International Airport with a hopeful smile, thinking that at the terminal exit there might be an easily visible, well-marked bus stop with regular buses to the San Jose city center.

Nothing.  Smelling my gringo scent, I was greeted by 524,003 short men with comical English offering me "very good prices" to San Jose.

2. What Public Transportation?: The taxi drivers were telling me there was no bus, the station was far away, it was too late and other such fanciful lies.  Gracias a Dios, I speak Spanish.  I found an honest person who directed me to the bus stop, which is hidden on the opposite side of the large parking garage.  There was no schedule.  Buses come every "20 minutes or so."  Eventually a bus took me to the central Alajuela-San Jose Bus Station.  

Notice I said "Alajuela" Bus Station.  San Jose does not have one, or two or even three central bus stations.  At the time of this writing, there are about 25 different stations and stops to various locations around the country.  Efforts have been made to centralize the transportation, but the greedy bosses who own the individual bus companies are not ready to give up their control so easily.  This usually means having to take a taxi from the Alajuela-San Jose Bus Station to another station in order to transfer to that bus to beautiful sun-kissed Malpais.

3. Taxi Vultures: Taxis are a necessary evil for tourists.  You do not have to find one; they will find you.  You can have fun negotiating prices with illegal "pirate taxis" but, like pirates, they are bloodthirsty and will rape and pillage you.  If you prefer riding legally, find a taxi that is red and has a clearly marked, inverted yellow triangle with black call numbers.  In local slang, the taxi meter machine is called La Maria.  Be sure to tell the driver to turn it on.  He will smile and commend you on your knowledge of Costa Rican tiquisimos, and later complain to his colleagues that some gringo knew this code word.

Taxi drivers do not even know their way around the city, or they pretend not to know when a tourist gets in the vehicle.  One night I went with my lovely blond French friend to a club called Mas Tequila in the San Pedro neighborhood where I lived.  I told the driver the address in Spanish: "200 Meters Southeast of the Flag Rotunda, Boulevard Dent, Plaza Antares."  He drove around the Flag Rotunda to Boulevard Dent then...drove right past it on the same road we came from:

"Hey! We just drove past Mas Tequila."

"No, no, no. It is in Barrio Dent."

"What? Uh, no.  We just came from Barrio Dent. Turn around.  This shouldn't be more than 3000 Colones"

"You aren't from here.  You probably don't know."

"I've lived here for one year and I work in San Pedro neighborhood.  I eat lunch at Plaza Antares."

"What?  You don't believe me??"

He angrily pulled the vehicle over and stepped out.  He went back to the trunk, and reached in to get...something.  I doubt it was tequila.  At this point my blond French friend jumped out of the taxi and started apologizing to the driver.  Her sexy French-accented Spanish relaxed him for a moment.

Ooh la la.  I slammed a rojo (1000 Colones) on the passenger seat then walked away before it got complicated.

   

4. The "Green Season": Why take taxis?  Well, out of the 12 months of the year in Costa Rica, it's raining for approximately 15 of those months.  In the tourist industry, this period is called the "green season," because "never-ending-depressing-rainy-season" doesn't sell as well, and India already owns the legal copyright on "monsoon season."  Taxis are the best way to avoid getting soaked if you visit Costa Rica during any month that isn't named January.

On the plus side, hotel rates are cheaper during the "green season," which is great as you will be spending most of your vacation in them.

  

5. But There's No Military, People Are Peaceful?:  There's another good reason to take taxis.  It's safer than walking the streets after nightfall.  I come from St. Louis, an American city which twice won the dubious award for "Most Dangerous City In The USA," (We're #1!! Woo!!) and I have never been assaulted there.

Witnessed a murder scene in front of my apartment, yes.  Had my car broken into twice, yes.  Had a man offer to suck my dick for crack money - well, naturally.  But never physically assaulted.

During 2 years in happy Costa Rica, I was robbed twice: once with a knife, and another time with a gun.  The first time was expected, as it happened in San Jose, the urban capital city.  The second time was surprising, since it happened with another person on a road in the jungle on the outskirts of Puerto Viejo, a small, relaxed Caribbean coastal town - appropriately enough on my last night in Costa Rica.

This is nothing.  All my Costa Rican friends can outdo me with their own armed robbery stories.  They tell these stories as casually as the latest soccer scores between the big teams, Alajuelita and Saprissa.  One of my friends has been robbed 8 times in her brief 24 years.  This is why she buys the cheapest mobile phones; she expects them to disappear on a regular basis, like that left sock in the dryer.

Of course, nothing bad may happen to you in Costa Rica, especially if you take an all-inclusive, package tour where the worst thing that will happen is a wicked hangover due to an excess of poolside Piña Coladas.  For the rest of the normal backpackers without big expense accounts, good luck, and never-ending Pura Vida.

There Is Costa Rican Craft Beer: Costa Rica Craft Brewing in Cartago

What do I have to do to get a good craft beer in Costa Rica?

I've spent the past few years becoming a good beer geek in the United States.  My 2 years in Europe was fine for drinking good beer, but Costa Rica put that to a stand still.  As anyone who has been in Costa Rica for more than one day knows, it's pretty much Imperial or Pilsen everyday.  One of Costa Rica's brews, Rock Ice, even got on a list of "Worst Beers On Earth."  It looks pretty desperate.

What I found was "Costa Rica Craft Brewing" in Cartago.  This is possibly the most awkward, obvious name for a microbrewery in existence, but it serves a purpose.  The name clearly communicates to any gringo traveler or American expat beer nerd that this is not just another yellow, watery, mass-produced Central American beer.  To avoid typing out this ungainly name, I shall now refer to the brewery by their initials, CRCB.

CRCB's flagship brews are Libertas, a light, fruity "tropical ale," and Segua, a sweet, hoppy red ale.  Libertas caters more to the local Costa Rica market, which typically finds big beers like IPAs and Russian Imperial Porters to be too strong.  Segua is for American Hopheads who need a fix in Costa Rica because they can't find any IPAs.  CRCB also has seasonal beers which show up on tap every 3 or 4 months around the country.  You can find draft and bottle locations at their website: http://beer.cr/   Additionally there are specialty beers which they only have at the brewery itself.

My goal on a rainy Saturday in October was to locate the CRCB brewery and buy a few dozen bottles to sell (illegally) at the hostel I managed.  If you don't have a car, take a bus from San Jose to central Cartago.  After searching for a local bus to the "Tejar de El Guarco" neighborhood, you either walk a mile or take a taxi.  The specific address is: "800 mts oeste de RITEVE El Tejar de El Guarco" but as I've discussed in a previous post, directions in Costa Rica are meaningless.  Just call them first: (506) 2573-3724.

I went with two lovely Quebecois girls from the hostel who were in Costa Rica representing their clothing company, Poze, for a 'fashion bicycle tour.'  I'm still not sure what this means, but I got to take lots of pictures of two good-looking, French-Canadian girls.  Oh-la-la, eh?

Our first bus dropped us off in downtown Cartago, so we spent some time checking out the historic ruins of Santiago Apostal Parish.  Technically they aren't ruins, but were in mid-construction in 1910 when an earthquake struck.  The Costa Ricans figured - eh, Pura Vida - we'll get around to finishing them, and 100 years later...  The earthquake is the source of much myth; one 'telenovela-style' story says the priest who helped found the Santiago Parish fell in love with his non-clerical brother's wife.  God sent the earthquake as his punishment for being unfaithful.

After (literally) jumping around on the ruins for awhile, we found the bus to the rural Tejar neighborhood where CRCB is located.  With rain impeding our progress, we opted for a taxi down the country road and actually drove by the brewery once before finding it.  I don't know about the Quebecois girls' sentiments, but I felt as if I had arrived at an oasis in the middle of a beer desert.

CRCB, however is not a desert.  It is officially the coldest place in Costa Rica due to sub-zero refrigeration used in the building to maintain stable beer fermentation temperatures.  We were given a Spanglish tour by friendly Juan and one of the brewers, Stefan, a young half-German, half-Tico who favored the German side.  After showing the us the tanks, grains and bottle-works, we finished the short tour with the most important part - tasting.























Cartago is surprisingly more insanely, religiously-conservative than most of Costa Rica.  What this means for CRCB is that the provincial law prohibits you from opening bottles of beer in the brewery!  You are allowed to drink three tap samples, but you can't actually enjoy a full beer pint there...unreal.  The nice part of the tasting was getting to try a Blueberry Stout which was only available at the brewery.  When I realized I couldn't drink bottles or pints there, I attempted to abuse my sampling privileges then quickly got out of there with a 24 case of Libertas and Segua I had purchased for $50.

We briefly stopped at the Cartago City Market so the girls could go shopping for random, handicraft crap.  I wandered aimlessly around the market with my box of beer, listening to the Cartago rain fall, and savoring the moment I would return to the hostel and open the first hoppy Segua bottle.

Costa Rican Addresses Don't Exist

You saw our pretty new black and green sign.  Think that's enough to find us?

Sorry. It's not.  I'm sure you're thinking, "I'll just tell the taxi driver the address and he'll find it on a map."  First let's pretend the taxi drivers aren't crooked and won't try to rip you off.  Here's the address you will give them to find us:

Costa Rica "Street Sign"

 "100 meters west of Roosevelt School..."
"A large white house on the corner with a black sign and flags..."
No, this isn't 1864.  Costa Rica still uses cardinal points and landmarks instead of real numbers and street names.  Take a quick walk around San Jose and you notice city maintenance forgot to put numbers on the buildings and only put up about half of the street signs.  Several years ago, there was a national vote to implement addresses, and the people actually voted it down.  


Here's a brief sampling of real "addresses" in San Jose in increasing order of difficulty (with links):
  1. Skating Rink San Pedro: 50 meters east of the Hispanic Fountain
  2. National Theater: 2nd Avenue between 3rd Street & 5th Street
  3. Hotel Del Rey: 1st Avenue & 9th Street, 1 block southeast of Parque Morazan
  4. Soda Tapia: East Sabana 42nd Street, 2nd & 4th Avenue in front of Colegio Luis Dobles Segreda
  5. Costa Rica Language Academy: Barrio Dent from Autos Subaru, 300 meters north and 50 meters west on Ronda Street.

I won't bother with the pop quiz because I know you'll fail it.  Finding your way around San Jose gets more complicated due the fact that traffic is atrocious and crossing the street requires balls of steel and a little luck:

This was mostly filmed at the rotunda in front of Mall San Pedro close to Castle Tam.  I had to brave this crossing in order to find the previously mentioned Costa Rican Language Academy, where one of our guests is studying Spanish.  Between this and the novel-worthy directions, a 10 minute walk turned into a 1/2 hour voyage of twists and turns and near-death driveby collisions.

The positive part of this long search for the Costa Rica Language Academy was the discovery of one of the illusive street signs that lay hidden in San Jose like pirate's treasure.  The search continues...

Note: As of 2013 another effort to install road signs has begun.  Let me know if you see them.  Foreigners will probably use the signs, but locals will continue to resort to the old system of landmarks and cardinal points.