Day 5 : Santa Elena/Monteverde to Manuel Antonio

The people next door who partied all night left at five, and we got to listen to their squeaky door go back and forth and back and forth in the early morning. Man, did we pick the wrong hotel.

The morning was cloudy but thankfully dry. We stopped and got the local bakery's version of a ham and cheese croissants with a couple coffees and hit the road for the Monteverde preserve. We took a guided tour, featuring Ian, whose running joke over the last ten years is apparently that it is his first day of work.

There are quetzal nesting boxes that have been built in the park, and we stopped and watched a female quetzal coming and going from one of them. A male quetzal should have been nearby too, but we saw none.




Farther down the trail, Ian borrowed our camera and stuck it inside a hollow tree, snapped a picture, and then showed the people on the tour the screen. The tree was covered by a strangler fig, the inside of the tree has disappeared, and the strangler fig took over.





A few minutes later, we came across a band of white-faced (capuchin) monkeys.












After the tour we visited the hummingbird garden, where there are something like seven species of hummingbirds, albeit at standard hummingbird feeders.



























While we were there, one of the guides ran by and alerted everyone that there was a male quetzal in a tree right by there. Wow! These birds are so big and just as bright as can be.



















It was about 11am, and we did not want to get to Manuel Antonio too late. We set out on our way, and we found the road taking us toward the Pacific Coast was infinitely better than the one we had come on. The scenery was majestic. The mountains had a shroud of clouds, with an uninterrupted forest below. At least for a while. Humans have made their mark on the land, but not too heavily.










The road twisted through the mountains, and eventually descended toward the Pan-American Highway. After endless stretches of backroads, we were thrilled to be on pavement again. This thrill lasted for about 5 miles, when all traffic came to a standstill. If you are not aware, the Pan-American highway is the only road linking all the countries of Central America, the primary artery of all commerce. And it is a two lane highway, not a passing lane anywhere. We sat stopped, and after about 15 minutes we started to see traffic coming from the other direction. And then nothing. And then a few more trucks and cars. And more of nothing. And we waited and waited and waited. We all moved forward about 500 meters, a quarter mile. And we waited again. And then, one hour later we were through the intersection that was under construction. And we saw the line of cars from the other direction was probably four times longer than ours. This is how traffic works in Costa Rica.

From there, we had wonderful highways. It was a joy not to have our spine re-arranged every minute, such as we had been going through on the roads up to then.

However, in order to get to Manuel Antonio, you have to cross two one-lane bridges. And they appeared to have no traffic control. Traffic on one side waited until all the traffic on the other side cleared. This means it would pretty much take forever to get across, since traffic would back up on one side far enough that it would never have a break. Our guide in Manuel Antonio told us the locals have given these two bridges names.

First, you get to the "Forever Bridge". After you cross that , you reach the "Oh My God Bridge". The Oh My God had the added attraction that planks on it would randomly fally off, causing traffic to halt until someone went below the bridge and brought the plank back. Or at least so said our guide, and I would not doubt his veracity or capacity for story-telling. Our crossing of the Oh My God bridge was further spiced up by the car that stalled on the bridge right before we got to it, so I had to get out and help push his car before the rest of us could cross.



So oh my God, it took forever, but we finally got to Manuel Antonio late in the afteroon as a light rain started falling. I had seen a posting on the Guide du Routard's forum that there was a little old grandmother with a grocery store on a back road who had really nice room for $25, and it was just as promised. And after we got set up in our room, it started to rain a little harder. We contemplated whether to walk to the restaurant three blocks away or take the car and stay dry.

We walked. The rain let up a bit, so we didn't regret it. Manuel Antonio is essentially a town that has about 1 mile of beach, and about a 1/2 mile of businesses on the road across from the beach. On the north end is the mountain highway to Quepos, and the south end is the entrance to Manuel Antonio National Park.

We stopped at the restaurant in the middle of Manuel Antonio, "the Marlin", and parked ourselves for the next few hours. Because of the rain and nightfall, the beach had cleared out, and all that remained were the people fromt the local hotels. And there were not that many people. The waiter there was cool. We got an entire fish for our dinner. It was served with really tasty orange-colored limes. We asked the waiter what these were, and he told us they were lima mandarinas. And since I made such a big thing about how cool they were, he brought out a cocktail glass garnished with slices of them, along with some grenadine. This got me to thinking that there must be cocktail to be had out of all this material, and I ordered a shot of Flor de Cana rum to go with it. And so a new drink was born. And it was good. I will trademark it and become fabulously rich some day. Soon all the chic people will soon be asking for lima mandarinas. Remember, you heard it here first.







After dinner, we took a nighttime walk around Manuel Antonio. We talked to a Rasta dude for a while, he showed us his cool shirt that a friend from Syria had brought him. We walked down the street and saw that every tv was turned on to a football game. The score was 5-0 or something, a real shellacing. We chatted about the game with a guy on the street wearing a Manchester United shirt. He explained it was just an everyday Costa Rican league match.

We walked back to the Marlin for a nightcap. It just so happened that they were getting ready to do their weekly power washing of their tile, so they had this huge compressor that had been hauled into the restaurant since we left. They would turn it on and off randomly, making for such a relaxing ambience! Our friendly waiter was still there, and I told him what I really wanted to try was some guaro, the national drink of Costa Rica. It is made from fermented sugar cane. He told me he had just the thing. A Guaparinha. Oh yeah, these are good, they are the best! If you have had a caipirinha, you know what I am talking about. If you haven't, then it may be hard to explain the beauty of a perfectly balanced mix of lime juice with not-quite-rotgut sugar cane liquor. (I have read that "Guaparinhas" are also called "Caipiticas".)

And as we finished our Guaparinhas, the rain started to fall harder than it had fallen all day. Torrents of rain. We could have taken the car, alas, but no. So we trudged through puddles and got drenched through our raincoats. As we climbed the stairs to our room with our soggy feet, we were greeted by one of the soggy-footed locals.