TRAVEL ESSAY
Purity, beauty and ease: the way of life in Costa Rica

By Mike Hanlon


"Pura Vida," the pure life, is Costa Rica's analogue to Hawaii's "Hang Loose." It fits. If Hawaii were an independent country rather than the 50th state, it would look and feel much like Costa Rica does today: tropical, agricultural and relaxed. It has more surfers than soldiers. In fact, it has more of everything than soldiers, as its army was abolished in 1949.

At times Costa Rica resembles the 51st state. I speak in Spanish, but with few exceptions, everyone responds in English. It seems more likely to encounter a street vendor who speaks English in San Jose, Costa Rica, than in Houston, San Diego or Miami.

It is estimated that 50,000 Americans and Canadians have settled in Costa Rica, most of them retirees. At first blush, it offers what the United States no longer can: slow-paced, tropical living at an affordable price. American couples, living in gated communities during the week, enjoy wide-open, white-sand beaches each weekend.

Yet a second glance offers a more disturbing picture. In Jacó, we walk into a bar and find it full of American men and Costa Rican women. Except for us, I do not see an American under retirement age. There does not appear to be many Costa Ricans much over the age of 20. The bar is clouded by smoke and two flavors of desperation.

In Montezuma, we stay at a pension on the beach. It had neither private baths nor any hot water, but it cost only $7 per night. The pension also hosts a group of French tourists. I say "Buenas dias" as I pass a woman in their group. She snaps back a rude-sounding reply in French that I do not understand. "Tú estás en Costa Rica, entonces hablas español," I respond. That felt pretty damned good.

Along the central Pacific coast, we visit an innovative conservation project called Rainmaker. As we drive toward the park, we know very little about it, except that its canopy bridges are 200 feet above the forest floor. As we arrive at the main bungalow, a woman approaches and asks, "Do you want to see the only known living harlequin toad?"

A decade ago an American woman and her daughter bought land with dreams of a rain-forest preserve, in memory of her late husband, who was originally from this part of Costa Rica. Today it is a 1,500-acre park that, although physically small, contains a great deal of the country's biodiversity. Last year a guide found an unusual toad. A visiting herpetologist identified it as a harlequin toad, previously thought extinct. Researchers are working to identify the size of the colony and to determine why and how it survived.

The main attractions of Costa Rica, much like that of Hawaii, are natural: Hiking five miles through a near washed-out jungle trail, discovering monkeys along the way. Swimming in the warm surf and relaxing on a nearly deserted beach at Cabo Blanco. Watching red-hot lava slide down Arenal at night, disappearing as it cools into rock. Attaching to a cable harness and zipping along the cloud-forest canopy.

It is the type of destination where tourists may overlook people who live among the natural wonders:

Costa Ricans championing the preservation of forests and shorelines, not because of ecotourism's economic value, but because of what it means to their culture and society. American retirees looking for a life America cannot, or will not, provide. Tourists, and a darker side of life that cannot be avoided outside manicured resorts. Surfers, farmers, and everyday vendors who seem to exemplify "Pura Vida."


Editor's note:
The Travel Essay is written by our readers about a travel adventure or insight.
Mike Hanlon lives in Seattle.