Guayabo National Monument: Pretty Much The Only Ancient Ruin In Costa Rica

Costa Rica has plenty of outdoor activities to keep your average wannabe ecotourist happy forever.  Ziplining, trekking, climbing volcanoes and feeding monkeys are all the standard package trip to this tropical country.  But after living there for some time, I noticed something was missing.  I've drank on the San Andreas Mayan Pyramids in El Salvador, sunburned myself on the massive Teotihuacan Pyramid in Mexico and offended God in historical churches in Nicaragua.  And no hostel chat in Latin America is complete without some new-age douchebag mentioning the stunning Aztec city of Macchu Picchu in Peru...and how he tripped balls on ayahuasca there.

Where are all the ancient ruins in Costa Rica?

Ancient Guayabo Zipline Facility

I fretted over this for awhile, then got distracted for the next few months by my 50+ hour work week.  I forgot all about it until Barbara, a coworker of mine, announced she was leaving Costa Rica in 2 weeks and invited me to see Guayabo National Monument:

"What's a Guayabo? A fruit?"

"It's just some old stones in Turrialba.  I don't really know how great it's gonna be.  We can still go out in Turrialba that night or find time for kayaking on the river."

"Sounds good.  My roommate's from Turrialba.  She could show us around."

Some Rocks. It Gets Better.

Let's be brutally honest.  If you're a backpacker who's on a Latin America tour and you've already seen Macchu Picchu, Teotihuacan or Copan, then seeing Guayabo is as breathtaking as watching "The Hangover 3" after having just seen the first two.  Really, that's the best they could do?

Regardless, I never say no to a roadtrip.  Especially with Barbara, who is from Slovakia.  This is a country which most people can't locate on a map, but by wild coincidence I happened to live there for 2 years.  As with all Slovak women, she is tall and stunningly beautiful.  Although she was definitely in Costa Rica for 'exotic' Latin men, we still hung out since I knew how to curse in Slovak and "drink like a Slovak."  I looked up 'Guayabo National Monument' and discovered it really is the only ancient archaeological site in Costa Rica.  Well, I finally found some history.

One of Barbara's friends (also Slovak) came with us.  We caught a late bus on Saturday from San Jose to Turrialba.  It was a long 2 hours in drizzling rain through the rolling Cartagao mountains.  The Slovak girls rambled on in Slovak while drinking rum and ginger out of plastic bottles.  I eventually dozed off when I realized I had completely forgotten what little Slovak I had learned...

By good fortune, I had contacted a Couchsurfer, Tete, from Turrialba who agreed to help us with our trip to Guayabo National Monument.  She wasn't able to give us a place to stay that night, but she offered to drive us and be our guide at Guayabo.  When we arrived she took us in her car to various lodgings where we could stay.  We eventually settled on the Intercontinental; for a nice room with 3 beds in the city center it came out to less than 15 dollars per person.

Katka declared she was tired, leaving Barbara and I to experience the nightlife of small-town Turrialba.  My roommate was in town for the weekend, so I contacted her.  She was at a wedding party in Club Nazca, a short 15 minute walk from the Intercontinental.  This didn't seem like a problem until we started asking people about the location:

"Oh no no. That walk is too dangerous at night.  Take a taxi there."

Some Of The Local Men

Turrialba is town of less than 30,000 people.  The thought of this small town being 'dangerous' seemed absurd to me, an American, and Barbara, a European.  Unfortunately this is the reality of living in Latin America; even the smallest villages are still dangerous, especially for obviously 'gringo' tourists who draw attention.  Barbara, being a tall, white exotic European woman, was already getting annoyed with all the catcalls she was getting from the local men on the streets:

"Hey, you speaky English?" "I loves you!!!" "You are sooo beautiful."

It was a short night.

Tete picked us around 9am the next morning and we drove the half hour up a rocky, rutted trail to the park entrance.  Since I was a passenger, I wasn't observing our route, and Costa Rica directions are always tricky.   Based on the maps I've seen, both Route 415 and Route 230 from Turrialba will take you there.  There is a bus that leaves from Turrialba twice daily that goes to the entrance; take the morning one.  Expect rain, expect rain and...expect rain.  Also foreigners, expect to pay more than nationals.  Another reality of the 3rd world.  Tete and her Costa Rica friend paid 600c ($1.20) while us foreigners paid 3000c ($6.00.)

A price increase of 5 times is justified...because we know all English teachers are very wealthy.

No one can really explain the existence of Guayabo National Park.  This is perhaps because, out of the 217 hectares that constitute the park, just 20 hectares are designated as an archaeological site, and only a small portion of that has been excavated.  Delayed development of the park has also contributed to a lack of information.

The archaeological site was first discovered by accident in the mid-1800s by rich coffee barons looking for plots of land to grow their cash crop for export, and to continue feeding their caffeine addiction.  At this time, the coffee industry was the popular kid in Costa Rica and ran around poking all the other little industries with sticks until they cried.  When news of the archaeological site discovery broke, a few nerdy archaeologists got really excited and asked to excavate it.  The coffee barons poked them with sticks until they shut up: "Who cares about this land?  How the hell can you grow profitable coffee beans with all these stones in the ground?"

Remember, this was before the ecotourism industry existed.

Guayabo was pretty much ignored for the next 100 years.  Finally in 1968 one of the less nerdy archaeologists, Carlos Aguilar AKA "Carlos The Eagle," convinced the Costa Rican government to set up a permanent excavation program on the site:

"Trust me, please.  Archaeology is really cool.  Also the gringos will pay us big money to look at these old rocks.  Seriously."

In 1973, the government designated Guayabo as a national monument.  "The Eagle" and his fellow archaeologists finally got to play in the dirt without worrying about rich, over-caffeinated coffee barons poking them with sticks.  Here's what they discovered.  (Or rather what I translated from Spanish Wikipedia.)

Guayabo was a pre-Columbian society that was occupied from sometime between 1000 B.C. to 1400 A.D.  Much like today, it was governed by a quasi political-religious head known as a cacique, which is also the name for Costa Rica's national firewater.  There are many theories on why the society was abandoned including: disease, war and internal conflict.  Surprisingly enough, European Spain's religious, ass-kicking, kill-all-the-brown-people campaign had nothing to do with it, since the site was abandoned at least 100 years before invasion.  The site mainly consists of a series of connected aqueducts, aqueduct locks, large basins where the water was collected and several large streets which aided with water drainage.  In other words, you are paying 6 dollars to look at an ancient sewer system; septic tanks included.

A Cute Crocodile Petroglyph

 Guayabo has much more besides extensive historical plumbing.  There are several monoliths, tombs and stone petroglyphs carved with jaguars, birds and two-tailed crocodiles.  The Costa Rica Board of Tourism wanted to install additional petroglyphs in the park carved with cute, wide-eyed green tree frogs and smiling tree sloths, but the Archaeological Society told them, no, there's already enough fucking cute tree frogs and tree sloths in your current tourism campaign, carapiche mae.

All of these structures are centered around a group of large stone mounds.  They have weathered the years quite well.  I had hoped there was a more dramatic English translation of monticulo, such as "Fucking Stunning Pyramid" or "Giant Damn Epic Mausoleum," but no, they are just mounds.  The other translations (hump and hummock) are even worse.

Guayabo National Monument is certainly not the largest, most breathtaking ancient ruin in Latin America.  Not even in Central America.  It doesn't matter.  After seeing all of the mounds, aqueducts and stones, Barbara, Tete, I and the rest of our friends climbed to the top of the park's scenic overlook.  When we looked down at the site and realized we could see clear to Columbia, we knew we were viewing the most impressive sewer system ever.  Wow.

The Ružinov Drinking Hill Concert

I don't like to write for tourists.  I wrote this for my friends.

The concert took place inside Espresso Planetka pub.  But that's not where the party was.

My musician friend, Robo Patejdl, and I hosted a great hour-long concert with many old and new friends on that warm August night in Bratislava, Slovakia.  After that we had to relocate.  Anyone who has been out with me in that neighborhood will tell you that bars, restaurants and houses that we drink at are all just filler.  The heart and soul of our Ružinov parties is Drinking Hill.

Where are the other pictures?

I don't remember most of the concert, since I'm always in a nervous, panicked blur before I perform.  I do remember people taking pictures and filming, but for some reason only one picture has surfaced from that night.  It's my skinny ass...probably singing Lady Gaga for the millionth time.  If anyone has more pictures from that night, please send them.  Deki moc!

Rather than try to recall the events of the particular concert, I'm just going to wax nostalgic about Ružinov Drinking Hill. *sigh*  People accuse me of many faults: excessive drinking, womanizing, fear of commitment, inability to grow-up, being easily distracted...

Uhhh, where was I?  My worst addiction would be nostalgia.  Nostalgia for places, experiences and, most importantly, people.  I constantly think of the good old days with friends and how I can relive them. Traveling feeds this addiction.  Somewhere down the next road is something better and more exciting than what I have already experienced.  Every time I return to Ružinov I hope that the next party will be better than the previous ones...

Here is nostalgia at its worst.  In pictures, this the legend of Ružinov Drinking Hill:

First we gather lots of alcohol.  Russians are famous for their drinking, but their Slavic brothers in general (of course Slovaks) have an amazing capacity for drink.  In the United States I'm called an alcoholic.  In Slovakia I'm a "weak bitch."

"Alcohol Poisoning!"

Czech-Slovak Beer served American House Party Style

Bring lots of food and start grilling in the park.  This would seem logical to any American (ahem 'Murican).  However big, American-style outdoor barbecues are not a part of Slovak culture...yet.

Parky a Paprika

The "front yard" of my Ruzinov flat

Take the party back inside your Communist-era panelka flat.  Since barbecues aren't normal in Slovakia, the police often saw it as a danger and would break up the party.  Or the weather would suddenly change.  This only encouraged the bad behavior.

The Smoking Section

The Toast with Fancy 'Murican Imported SOLO Cups

Take the party back OUTSIDE the apartment.  Slovakia has a law that prohibits loud noise in buildings after 10pm (22:00).  Around 9:50pm we had to stage a massive exodus for our drunken troops.  A little hill in an adjacent park became our refuge since it possesses a magical ability to hid people from the police...

10:00pm - Ready to Begin the Drinking Hill Voyage

Heading to The Secret Rendezvous Point with Buckets of Beer

Party at Ruzinov Drinking Hill.  I can't tell you what happens at Drinking Hill...most likely because I'm too black-out drunk to remember.  There was usually a Slovakian lady and a lot of alcohol involved.  Everybody who has been there has their own debil story about the people they met or the stupid things they did.  All I know is at some point the next morning I would return there after some wild voyage around Bratislava's bars to collect evidence of the party.  There was never much left...

One Lonely SOLO Cup Is All That's Left

I miss these times and the people who were there.  Bratislava, Slovakia is not a place that most people put on their Top Ten travel lists, but for me it's one of the best.  And it's all thanks to the people who are there.    This song is for you guys.  I played it at the Ružinov Concert and I will play it the next time I see you, because I always gotta feelin'...

The Beautiful Beaches of Bratislava

There are a lot of nice beaches around Bratislava.

That sounds pretty stupid, doesn't it?  When my Couchsurfer told me she was taking me to the beach for the day, I though she had perhaps drank too many slivovica shots.  Slovakia is a landlocked country known for its mountains and snow.  The thought of a beach here sounds absurd.

Use your imagination.  Go to Bratislava in the summer and there are several nice places where you can lay your towel in the sand, grab a cold drink, get a nice tan and then cool off later with a dip in the water.  And don't worry, there will plenty of nice girls to look at.  This is Slavic Europe.

1. T-com Beach
T-Com Beach is on the opposite side of the Dunaj River from downtown Bratislava.  If it's not June, July or August don't go looking for it because it doesn't exist in the winter.  During the summer months construction crews dump several tons of sand on the riverside and contain it all in wooden partitions.  After that they set up beach chairs, umbrellas and several fancy, stand-alone cafes on top of the sand.  If you want to feel glamorous and have a good view of the Old Town, cross the New Bridge and pick out a spot.

2. Zlaty Piesky
Zlaty Piesky is a small resort with a lake located on the city limits of Bratislava.  Whenever I felt inspired to pull out my guitar and write a song, I would go out here to clear my head.  Take the red tram line 4 all the way to the last stop where Tesco is.  This lake is more relaxed and less glamorous than T-com, but is a great area for camping, picnics and the occasional music festival like the Uprising Reggae Festival.  If you don't feel like jumping in the lake, the surrounding park has places for volleyball, street hockey, tennis and mini-golf.

3. Čunovo Lake
Čunovo is an excellent choice for a short day-trip to get away from the "big" city.  From the city center you can take any connecting route to Bus 91 and you will be at the lake within 50 minutes.  If you want a more scenic trip, rent a bike and follow the Dunaj River south from Bratislava.  I was fortunate enough to have a Couchsurfer with a car.  During the trip south I was looking at a map and realized the road on the other side of the tree grove was where I had painfully crossed the Hungarian-Slovak border the previous day.

It was a hot August day and after parking the car, we immediately jumped into the cool lake.  My host told me that the lake isn't natural and used to be an old rock mine that was later filled in with water.  This may explain an island which is unnaturally located in the exact middle of the lake.  We were both feeling fit and decided to swim to the island.  It took some some effort but eventually we made it to the shore and laid down to dry off in the sun.

Since Couchsurfing is by nature a traveling network, people often meet at random, talk briefly and then leave so quickly that they hardly have time to get to know each other.  You feel like a pinball bouncing from place to place without ever truly stopping.  Barely 24 hours had passed since I had hitchhiked from Budapest, arrived at her place exhausted, made introductions and then promptly passed out on her guest bed.  She had been kind enough to take me down here to this pleasant, scenic corner of Slovakia that only yesterday had looked like hell on earth.  I took a moment to look at this lady and consider exactly who she was.

But not too many moments.  She's in a swimsuit and that would be weird...*ahem*...

She was what I would call a classic Slovak lady: tall, thin, and quiet with a pretty face which made her look much younger than her years suggested.  She had lived in the United States for a while and it had given her a different perspective on the rather traditional life of Slovakia.  We chatted about our respective travels but spent much of the time in quiet reflection. Čunovo Lake will do that to a person.

I needed the peace and quiet.  In another 24 hours I would be hosting my own, rowdy Bratislava Reunion Concert.  

Orava is Slovakia: Rozmarin Country Fest in Terchova

In Orava I've done grand, soaring castle tours and quiet village life, so now its time for the thing I do best, party!  I spent my final Orava night watching live music at 'Amfiteater na Borami' in the village of Terchova.  This village is home to Slovak folk legend, Juraj Janosik, and the amphitheater itself hosts many culture events such as, "Janosik Days," and the cooking fest "Bryndzova Halusky Terchova."  On this weekend, I experienced a bunch of Czech & Slovak rednecks playing their versions of American country music at "Country Fest Rozmarin!"

 This is Deda Mladek Illegal Band, who I saw at the festival on Saturday night. The song is, "Jozin z Bazin" which translates to something like,"Joe From The Swamp."  While they are technically not country music, they still do a fine, funny job of playing old American ragtime and swing.  The singer is clearly crazy and doesn't give a damn about being a complete fool onstage.

I don't have to understand lyrics to enjoy live music.  The bands were good, the vibe was chill and Terchova is in the middle of the Mala Fatra mountains so the surrounding countryside is beautiful.  To top it off, instead of paying 10 Euro for the entry fee, I got in free thanks to a friend who works at the event.  Typically I start out with alcohol, but they had cold Kofola on tap, and you can only find it in the former Czechoslovakian countries.  I'll take it over Coca-Cola any day. 
                                                                                             

 

Kofola only lasts so long though, and I knew I needed something stronger when I heard the singer calling for everyone to drink Hruskovica and Borovicka!  The best Slovak spirits you can get are homemade, but here I have to settle for Spis, still one of the best commercially available.  The Spis Truck (which I will own someday) was parked outside the amphitheater, and it was full of sexy Slovak Spis girls handing out shots and tattoos!!

Strong, yet still smooth and sweet.  The shot...not the girl.  

With hruska burning in my belly and the sun setting I was ready to see the last headline band.  I was expecting more American music, but instead I got Cechomor.  Just calling them traditional Czech/Slovak music is too simple an explanation.  Here they sing, "Mistecko,"  I don't have to understand the lyrics, but I know I got chills.

  Dobru Noc.