Jacó
The journey there was relatively uneventful…but not entirely. We only had one roadblock, which lasted twenty minutes. People gathered on either side of the road, waving flags and cheering on the passing buses and cars. I can only assume they were protesters but they also did not seem to wish to mar our path. My understanding is that they are allowed to block the road for an hour at a time. Then they have to open the highway for twenty minutes to let people pass. It’s possible they were cheering to bring attention to their cause.
A black gate with artistically hand painted letters marked the entrance of my hostel. I waved goodbye to Nora, thanking her again for the ride and turned to enter my home for the next two nights. It was a quaint family home with an outdoor kitchen and a jungle for a yard. A vulture perched in one of the upper branches and tore at a small rodent.
It definitely wasn’t a hostel designed for meeting people, which was alright because it’s good to enjoy solitude once in a while. I walked the beach by sunset and enjoyed a small meal under the protection of a hotel awning as wisps of rain turned the grey sands black.
After an early morning yoga session I set off to search for the trail that would lead me to El Mirador, a viewpoint overlooking the town of Jacó. Cars zoomed by as I climbed along the edge of the road, stopping only once to ask for directions. The two men confirmed I was headed in the correct direction but informed me that there was a nicer way to get there.
One of them walked me back to what appeared to be a driveway heading up into the jungle. He asked me the usual questions: where was I from, was I married, how did I feel about traveling alone. Then with a quick warning about tigers he bid me farewell.
Sweat, which had become my constant companion, dripped lazily down the back of my neck. The hum of cicadas urged me to continue upward. Emanuel, my guide in La Fortuna, once told me how the insects are deaf and find each other by the vibrations they create through a combination of beating their wings and blowing air through tiny vents in their body. Sometimes however they beat and blow in such desperation that they actually blow a hole in their side and fall out of the trees to their deaths. Let’s just say I have no desire to be reincarnated as a cicada.
The trail would have taken me all the way to Playa Hermosa, if I had let it. Instead I paused to investigate a broken down home poised on the edge of the mountain. Graffiti art covered every surface like a layer of makeup. No windows or plumbing fixtures remained; the house was but a skeleton of its former self and beautiful in its simplicity.
After a tigerless journey through the jungle I searched the town for an Internet cafe. Unfortunately, all of them were closed, however a tour shop owner took pity on me and let me use his personal computer for a few hours. He had family connections in California and for some reason I had the feeling he was imagining one of his own daughters alone in a foreign country, needing to use a computer because theirs had been stolen.
That night I went to a little restaurant in a plaza with live music and relaxed in the familiarity of it all.
I would like to say that was the end of my time in Jacó. That I woke the next day, hopped on a bus, and headed to Manuel Antonio. Alas that is not what happened. I waited at the bus stop for two and a half hours…there was supposed to be a bus at ten, then another at eleven, and again at noon…none of them arrived.
A man pulled over and offered me a ride to Manuel Antonio. He said there wouldn’t be another bus until four and he was willing to drive me for the cheap price of $40 USD. I said no thank you and the look on his face told me I had made the right decision.
At that point to began the two mile walk into town, figuring I could get something to eat before going to wait at the actual station. A group of people waited at one of the stops along the way and I inquired as to whether any of them were headed to Quepos (the city neighboring Manuel Antonio). Several were indeed and apparently a bus would be arriving any moment.
I figured it wouldn’t hurt to wait. My patience was rewarded, within five minutes, the bus I had been longing for all morning, arrived. Finally, I was on my way!
