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The simple pleasures of Tamarindo
By Frank D. Roylance
The Associated Press
Sunday, January 4, 2004
A growling outboard motor pushed our boat slowly along the winding channels of
the Tamarindo estuary. Crocodiles peered at us from the coffee-colored water,
then slipped beneath the surface among the mangrove roots. Somewhere deep in the
forest, howler monkeys hooted at our passing.
Then the cell phone rang, wrecking our fantasy of motoring through the jungle
aboard the African Queen.
But the phone was a reminder that we had come to Costa Rica's northwest
Guanacaste province because of its easy accessibility to some of the country's
rich natural heritage, and also its creature comforts.
Just minutes from our air-conditioned room at the Hotel El Diria in Tamarindo,
we were putt-putting among crocs and monkeys, clouds of tropical butterflies and
a long list of shore birds. Later in the week, we would tour the forest canopy
suspended from zip lines, "flying" without wings through towering cashew trees.
Then there were the snorkeling, marlin fishing, afternoon swims on top-rated
surfing beaches, and a sunset sail escorted by spotted dolphins.
Costa Rica, a country the size of West Virginia straddling the Central American
isthmus between Panama and Nicaragua, has hitched much of its economic future to
the growing worldwide interest in ecological tourism.
The tiny nation of 3.9 million people has set aside more than a quarter of its
land area for preservation. A jade-green necklace of national parks and
preserves protect wildlife, rain forests, wild rivers, mountain cloud forests,
turtle nesting beaches and sputtering volcanoes.
On our weeklong visit, my wife, Christy, and I and our friends Guy and Laura
Manfuso, of Timonium, could sample only a fraction of the country's riches. The
tour operator at our hotel alone offered a dozen bus trips, including guided
hikes through the rain forest to the Arenal and Rincon de la Vieja volcanoes;
hot springs and mud baths; a birding trip on rafts down the Corobici River; and
a horseback adventure in search of toucans and sloths in the Los Inocentes
Ecological Ranch.
But the roads out of Tamarindo are narrow and slow, and we balked at spending so
much of our vacation on a bus. Instead, we split our time between the natural
attractions within easy reach of our hotel and the creature comforts in the busy
beach town of Playa Tamarindo.
The uncrowded season
After decades of fighting and upheaval in Nicaragua, Guatemala and Panama, many
Americans are understandably leery of travel to Central America. But Costa Rica
should be an exception. A stable democracy since 1949, the country has abolished
its army and devoted much of its resources instead to education. Literacy rates
are high, unemployment is low and the country is relatively prosperous.
More than 30,000 Americans have retired to Costa Rica, taking advantage of
favorable residency and tax laws, and a relatively low cost of living.
Our travel package was booked through Vacation Express, a 14-year-old
Atlanta-based tour operator. It came to $900 per person, including a chartered
flight from Baltimore and seven nights at the El Diria, with transfers and
breakfasts.
Summer vacations in the tropics sound dreadful. But Christy and Laura are
teachers, so summer is really the only season we can travel. And we've
discovered it's the best time to go.
Costa Rica in July is very hot and humid, but frankly no worse than Baltimore.
And there are no crowds.
Maryland's summer and fall are the rainy season in Costa Rica. That means plenty
of vacancies and low prices. When it's winter up north, it's the dry season in
Costa Rica. Everybody's on vacation; rooms are scarce, restaurants are full and
prices are higher.
The rainy season isn't so bad. Typically, it means clear, sunny skies in the
morning, with clouds boiling up by 10 a.m. or noon. Cooling showers arrive in
the afternoon and depart in time for dinner under the stars.
At the Liberia airport, our guides strapped the baggage to the roof of a bus,
and off we went, over narrow, two-lane roads through a countryside of green
sugar-cane fields, pastures and wooded hills. The sun peeked through billowing
clouds.
Most of the passengers got off at one of the pricey, all-inclusive resorts
scattered around the region, with their golf courses and gift shops. We visited
one and found it quite lovely. But guests told us they felt isolated, and
complained that their dining choices were limited. It reminded us of a cruise
ship.
Our bus pressed on until we reached the Pacific coast, and pulled into downtown
Tamarindo.
This is not Cancun. There are (for now) no high-rise hotels, no yacht basins, no
Starbucks.
In fact, the main street was first paved in 2002. Barely a decade ago, this was
a fishing village of perhaps 300 people, with one sizable, low-rise hotel - the
Diria. Since then the place has caught on with Costa Ricans and foreigners. It
has acquired more modest but comfortable hotels, and a lot of terrific small
restaurants.
"Tamarindo is changing every six months," said Nicolas Viale, the French-born
owner of the Century 21 real estate office in town. He arrived from Nice a
decade ago. "I was getting bored by the French system," he said, "and paying a
lot of taxes."
Viale fell in love with the place. "When it's raining in Costa Rica, it's really
raining," he explained. "When it's sunny, it's burning. It's got monkeys and
weird flowers. I love the sensation of being surrounded by nature."
But most of all (he's a real estate guy, after all), "the place is completely
changing," he said. "It looks like Tamarindo is going to be one of the most
important beach towns in Costa Rica."
As good as the restaurants and hotels have become, however, the two-lane main
street still feels like the end of the road, which it is.
It is lined with brightly painted but ramshackle, open-air bars and restaurants,
craft and T-shirt shops, Internet cafes and surfboard rental stores. On the
sidewalk, peddlers sell beads, bracelets and earrings to tourists in bikinis and
Speedos.
We wondered why such valuable beachfront real estate had not seen more
substantial investment. In its drive to protect its coastline and turtle nesting
beaches from heavy development, we were told, the government claimed a maritime
zone 218 yards inland from the high-tide line. Any business seeking to develop
on that strip must acquire a government lease or concession.
But because a five-year concession might not be renewed, developers have been
reluctant to sink too much money into the sand. So, most beachfront shops,
restaurants and bars are flimsy affairs - thatched or corrugated tin roofs on
wood supports set in sand.
Just off the main street, the lanes are muddy and potholed when it's raining,
dusty and potholed when it's not.
"Maybe that's part of the beauty of Costa Rica," said Dave "Ziggy" Ziegler. The
footloose, 48-year-old American entrepreneur came here a year ago to open a bar
with his son Ben, 21, after a prior venture in the States burst with the dot-com
bubble. During the 1990s, he had operated a real estate company and a cowboy bar
in Kiev, Ukraine.
In Tamarindo, the pair saw a need for tour brokering and opened the Tamarindo
Tourist Information Center. If Ziggy's not in his office on the main street, ask
for him across the street at the bar in the Las Palmas restaurant. We would see
a lot of him during our stay.
Vacation spot
Tamarindo feels like Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville. It is crowded with North
American and European dropouts and entrepreneurs, surfers following their
endless summer and college kids with time and money on their hands.
"It's a party town down here," said Danielle Deisenroth. The 22-year-old Montana
native was taking time off in Tamarindo after graduation from college. "To me,
it always seems like MTV Spring Break. People party here till 4 in the morning
every single night of the week. Something's always going on."
We met Deisenroth curled up on a couch in the lobby of the Botella de Leche
(Bottle of Milk) youth hostel in Tamarindo, on a muddy lane up the hill from the
main drag. It is a well-scrubbed and air-conditioned, $12-a-night dorm for young
people.
Deisenroth was recovering from a rough bout with dengue fever, a mosquito-borne
illness she thinks she contracted in Guatemala.
If it's Central American history, folk art or colonial architecture you're
looking for, she advised, Tamarindo is not where you want to spend the bulk of
your travel. "This part is just vacation."
As a base of operations, the Diria was perfect. Built along the beach before the
maritime zone law was passed, it is clean, attractive and well-run. There is
lush, tropical landscaping, three pools and a beautiful bar and restaurant
overlooking the sea.
Our rooms were in a newly built section across the street. They overlooked a
sprawling turquoise pool with swim-up bar. New condominiums were under
construction up the hill.
The sweeping crescent beach on Tamarindo Bay is still unspoiled. From a few
hundred yards down the strand, you can look back and see little of the hotel but
its palms.
The ocean is warm, the beach slope gentle and the waves steady and ideal for
learning to surf. Everywhere we went, the air was fragrant and filled with
butterflies.
A drizzle of butterflies
After a bad experience in Acapulco, we were nervous at first about the water
here. But we were assured repeatedly that the water and food were safe.
"This is not Mexico," the hotel's staff said flatly. We drank bottled water, but
finally ate the salads and fresh fruit and had no problems.
Getting cash was more problematic. The Banco Nacional has a monopoly in small
towns in Costa Rica. Its ATMs are scarce and don't use the network my card
required. I ducked into the bank for a cash advance on my VISA card. But the
lobby looked like the waiting room of a free medical clinic. Simple transactions
can take four hours, I was told.
Ziggy said he'd threatened to make T-shirts saying "I Survived the Banking
System in Costa Rica." He could just as easily have tweaked the government's
telephone and oil monopolies. It can take months to get a telephone line, and
gas stations are scarce. "Someone who gets stressed easily won't last," Ziggy
said.
But he added, "I'm really happy it's that way. If it wasn't, I'd be too late,
because when it gets [pulled] together, everybody's going to want to live here."
I finally got cash at the hotel, which took a sizable cut, and I made a note to
bring traveler's checks next time.
Back at Ziggy's place, we booked a morning estuary tour for $40 each. A van took
us a mile down the road, where we walked across the tidal flats and climbed
aboard a red and white launch.
Our young guide, David Rodriguez-Rosales, shoved us off the mud and yanked the
starter. Sheltered by a blue sun shade, we motored slowly up the estuary.
In his best tourist English, David pointed out the black, white and red mangrove
trees that crowded the muddy river banks. There were colorful mangrove crabs, a
little blue heron, kingfishers, ibises, egrets and a tiger heron. Parakeets
chattered unseen in the forest, and a steady drizzle of orange, yellow and white
butterflies floated over us.
Far up a narrow tributary, we pulled up to a steep, muddy bank. David led us off
into what is known as a "dry tropical forest" habitat. He pointed out hoards of
red and blue rainbow land crabs, termite trails snaking high up the tree trunks,
and a pendulous oriole's nest dangling from a tall tree.
Meandering in the woods, we finally reached a grove that is home to a family of
howler monkeys. Prodded by David's hilarious imitation of their deep, guttural
call, a large male and a female with a baby in tow began to stir in the branches
high above us. The male hooted back.
When it began to feel like monkey harassment, we took our pictures and hiked
out.
Back at the hotel, we ordered drinks beneath a huge banyan tree. A sailboat
anchored offshore as the sun was setting between the palms. This close to the
equator, the sun sets around 6 p.m. every day, so evening activities begin
early.
At Ziggy's suggestion, we set out after dark for El Jardin del Eden, a
delightful, inexpensive hotel set on a hillside above the town, with a
spectacular view of the bay.
Ziggy had directed us to an obscure gate marked "Lobsters." We found it, and
from there hiked up a long, dark alley. Finally, we entered a tropical garden,
climbed past lighted pools and a small thatched bar, and entered a pretty,
multilevel open-air restaurant.
Soon to be the setting for the Temptation Island reality TV show, El Jardin is
owned by French expatriates Nicolas and Natalie Segonne. For the four of us, our
whole red snapper, lobster and shrimp dinners, with drinks, came to $82. It was
the most we ever managed to spend on a meal in Tamarindo.
Turquoise water
The next morning, we hired a taxi to take us 15 miles north to a quiet,
white-sand beach called Playa Flamingo. The coastal region here is primed for
development. Nearly every farm and masonry house along the way was posted with a
for-sale sign, in English.
Playa Flamingo is a community of expensive homes perched on a hilly green
peninsula overlooking the sea. There is a marina, a handful of hotels and
businesses, and a gorgeous crescent beach.
Our driver told us the homes in Flamingo are owned by rich foreigners - too
expensive, he said, for "Ticos," as Costa Ricans refer to themselves. Actress
Linda Carter - Wonder Woman - is said to own a home here.
Our driver dropped us off, promising to be back in two hours - about all the
tropical sun we figured we could handle. The turquoise water was so clear we
could wade in up to our shoulders and still see our feet. The sand was soft and
white, and lined with shady mangroves.
We swam and body surfed, and admired the view from our shelter beneath the
trees, taking a break for soft drinks at the quiet poolside bar at the Flamingo
Beach Resort Hotel across the street.
Back in Tamarindo for lunch, we discovered that Costa Rican iguanas have filled
the ecological niche occupied by pigeons back home. Reptiles the length of your
forearm hang out at the edges of Tamarindo's outdoor restaurants, and move in
when food hits the ground. Smaller green iguanas patrol the pool area, and tiny
brown geckoes hang out on walls everywhere, waiting for insects.
For dinner, we tried Pedro's - a few picnic tables under a thatched roof on the
beach at the end of the main street. A surfer we met said we'd get fried fish,
right out of the sea, cooked by the fishermen's wives and practically given away
at $3 per person.
Most of that was true. The tiny eatery was right on the beach, under a starry
sky dark enough to reveal the Milky Way. The tables were illuminated by candles
in jelly jars, and we were serenaded by a trio of guitar players singing
plaintive cancions that the Tico diners around us seemed to know by heart.
But the food was fancier than we expected. We ordered lobster and mahi-mahi, one
garlic, one breaded. It was good, but not outstanding. Plus, it was $12 apiece
instead of $3. Tourist prices, we figured.
Offshore fishing
Guy, it turned out, had a yen for bigger, more expensive fish. For $250, he
chartered a half-day offshore fishing trip. There were no other guests, this
being the slow season. A professional photographer hired to shoot promotional
pictures for the owner never showed.
So Guy stepped aboard the 26-foot boat, and Captain Javier motored out about 10
miles, surrounded by playful dolphins. They caught a few small tuna, and watched
a sailfish leap clear out of the water.
Then Guy set his hook in a striped marlin and battled the fish for what seemed
like a half-hour. Javier figured it weighed 350 pounds - way too big to land in
his boat. So, after a few minutes to admire the great fish, and not a soul to
photograph it, he let it go.
"Short of major life events, this was one of the coolest things I've ever done,"
Guy declared on his return. With no pictures, of course, we had to take his word
for it.
And with no fish, we sought our dinner at the El Coconut restaurant, owned by
Norwegian ex-pat Anne Kathrine Gayraud and her French husband, Hubert - more of
the many Europeans who have invested here.
From their deck, we watched a parade of well-fed, college-age kids walking
toward the bars and clubs in town.
More young people were arriving by bus. They clambered down with their
overloaded backpacks and pulled surfboards from compartments beneath the
coaches. Most appeared to be Americans. Tamarindo is a well-known surfing
destination, close to the famed surf at Ollie's Point and Witch's Rock.
I had to admire their pluck. An adventurous summer for us a generation ago was
waiting on tables and changing sheets in the Adirondacks. These kids jet off to
Central America, often combining education with playtime.
Deisenroth - before she arrived in Tamarindo and came down with dengue fever -
took a Costa Rican course in primate behavior. Her dorm-mate at the Botella de
Leche, Catherine Lecours, 22, of Sherbrooke, Quebec, said she stopped for five
weeks at the University of Guatemala to improve her Spanish. "I'm almost
fluent," she said.
Touring the canopy
For our next adventure, Ziggy sent us off with Rod Jones, captain of the Lazy
Lizard.
For $75 apiece, we sailed on a big catamaran with a dozen other tourists,
gliding past steep, green forested hills and standing rocks. After a few hours,
we anchored in a quiet cove for snorkeling, kayaking and lunch.
Stinging nettles chased some of us out of the water, but I suffered them long
enough to photograph a spotted ray, a sea turtle and lots of colorful tropical
fish below the waves.
After a late lunch, the captain hauled up the anchor and sailed us around until
the boat attracted a pod of spotted dolphins. They swam and played around the
Lazy Lizard for a half-hour or so, until we turned for shore.
As the sun drifted down into a golden sea to our west, a partial rainbow emerged
from the showers that were falling over Playa Flamingo, doubling briefly before
fading away.
All week long, we had seen ads for the Tamarindo Canopy Tour, so after breakfast
on our last day in town, we set off in search of the place. A mile up the dirt
road, we were dripping from the heat and humidity, but we arrived to find we had
the place nearly to ourselves.
Our guides, Carlos and Ron, told us that in the high season they may lead as
many as 100 tourists at a time through the trees. In the quiet of July, there
were just six of us. Then three.
One look at the hilltop tower where the tour began, and at the slender wire
falling away toward the forest canopy below, the three women in our group
elected to pocket their $35.
That left the men with no honorable choice but to go on. We strapped our
backsides into rock-climber's harnesses, each hanging from a strap with a
wheeled pulley that hitches securely to the zip line. After a brief checkout on
a practice line, we climbed the tower.
The guide went first, sailing off into the distance and vanishing into the
trees. The only sound was the fading whine of his pulley on the braided steel
cable. Guy was next. With a shove from the second guide, he soared off with a
grin, shrinking from sight as fast as if he'd leapt from an airplane.
Then me. That first stretch of cable was a third of a mile long, we were told -
the longest of 14 such leaps.
I flew off like a hawk, gaining speed. The wind rushed past my face and the
forest canopy rose toward me. Soon, the tree branches were flying by on both
sides and I caught only glimpses of the ground, far, far below.
Then a towering tree trunk appeared in the branches dead ahead. As instructed, I
slowed myself with a gloved hand on the cable, and finally glided into the arms
of the guide, who waited on a platform in the tree, 80 or 100 feet above the
forest floor.
This, we all agreed, was very cool. All around us, above and below, were
gigantic, towering tropical trees. Some were in flower, and surrounded by clouds
of butterflies. We could barely see the ground.
For 45 minutes, we climbed steel ladders and traversed wire footbridges to reach
the next takeoff point. Some leaps were long, some short, some very fast. But
all were high in the air, amid the branches and the birds.
Promising future
Back in town, I sat with Ziggy and we talked about Tamarindo's future.
"To me," he said, "you are sitting in the first Acapulco of Costa Rica. This
will be the place. A lot of the big hotels are buying property."
He said he and his son Ben and a partner were already developing their own
canopy tour near town. In the spirit of Costa Rica's eco-tourism, they're also
planning a butterfly farm and mud baths for the tourists - part of an
eco-friendly resort powered by the sun and wind.
Other developers are following a more conventional path. At the Diria, sales rep
Jose Murillo showed us the hotel's two-bedroom condominiums, still under
construction. They have beautiful views of the bay and sell for $298,000, he
said, although a hotel employee later confided that buyers were paying closer to
$230,000.
Real estate guides we picked up in town advertised houses and condos elsewhere
for as little as $69,000.
Murillo and Viale, the French-emigre realtor, said buyers are a diverse bunch.
Most are from North America, but many are Europeans, South Americans and, yes,
Costa Ricans.
Many bed and breakfasts, small, lovely hotels such as the Cala Luna, and larger
luxury resorts like the Hotel Barcelo Playa Langosta have popped up along the
coast near here. Many are European-owned.
The place is ripe, Viale said, for the area's first big hotel chain.
Those who came here because it was small and quiet and charming would seem to be
at a crossroads, we suggested. Actually, Viale replied, "those people have
already moved."
Getting there: You can fly from BWI to San Jose, Costa Rica, via American or
Delta airlines. But you'll need a connecting flight via SANSA or Travelair to
Tamarindo. Or, it's a five-hour drive.
TACA (wwww.taca.com)
offers inexpensive package tours, flying from BWI through Atlanta to the new
airport at Liberia, 45 minutes from Tamarindo.
Money: Call your bank or credit card issuer or check online to be sure of
compatible ATMs at your destination. Merchants in Tamarindo accept credit cards,
traveler's checks, dollars and Costa Rican colons - 400 to the dollar.
Information
For more information about visiting Tamarindo and Costa Rica, try these
resources:
Costa Rica Tourism Board:
www.visitcostarica.com
Tamarindo Information:
www.tamarindo-info.com
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