Boon and Bane of Americanization in Costa Rica

During the few years preceding our big drive to South America, I had visited Costa Rica a couple times, each time leaving with the impression that it was unusually and positively Americanized. After all, Costa Rica does not have a military because they know they can enlist the support of the United States in the event that they need it. And there are restaurants like Papa John’s, Subway, Wendy’s, and other eateries based in the US. Because of its strong relationship with the US and because there are so many American tourists and foods there, I assumed Costa Rica would present the least problems on our drive to South America. The infrastructure would be better in Costa Rica and there would be less corruption, of course.

But driving through Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua gave me new perspective on Costa Rica, allowing me to view the country in the context of all its Central American neighbors.

While waiting for our friend to finish the lengthy bureaucratic process of getting our car into the country, we were just hanging out on the Costa Rican side of the border. With the exception of Honduras, where we were caught in a riot, the locals at all the borders we crossed were friendly and their towns were not filthy like US-Mexico border crossings in Tijuana, Nogales, and Ciudad Juarez. But the crossing into Costa Rica was dirty and the unfriendly stares made me a bit uneasy. There were men in their mid-twenties and early thirties – dressed as though they were well off -- who had little children begging for them. The kids would get money and then give it to the men. Clearly they did not think we noticed because one of the kids was sent to ask us for money. I told the kid, who couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old, that I didn’t have any money – of course I refused to give money to the guys who were taking advantage of these kids. The boy asked again, so I told him I would give him money if he went home and did not give the money those older guys. The kid then said, in English, “Suck my dick!” and pulled his phallic member out of his jeans as if to let me know he wasn’t kidding.

From the border, we headed to Tamarindo, which is a tourist town on the north pacific coast of the country, most famous among surfers for its proximity to Witch’s Rock and Ollie’s Point. When compared to the beach towns we visited along the way, Tamarindo was not very interesting. The beaches were comparatively crappy. It was different than I remembered, seeming somehow less authentic this time. It was a town for foreigners to enjoy wild parties, like smaller Cabo or Cancun spring break festivities. Ten miles in either direction from Tamarindo, however, the beaches were pristine and beautiful. But relatively few people go there.

Next we drove towards Jaco Beach on the central coast of Costa Rica. Along the way, we realized that all the American influence didn’t make Costa Rica less corrupt. In fact, the only country in which a police officer requested a bribe from us turned out to be, ironically, the most Americanized one – Costa Rica. We were pulled over for driving the usual speed limit through a reduced speed school zone, but it was a Sunday evening and there were no children in the area and there had been no school that day. The officer pulled us over and asked for $50. My friends, who are native Spanish speakers, were furious, but we decided it was easier to pay the money and avoid any problems.

We arrived in Jaco to find that it was a town which had developed much differently than most Central American towns, mostly because of its large number of tourists. For only the second time in the many thousand miles of coastline we had travelled, we were confronted by conspicuous drug use and prostitution. Pretty women came from all over Costa Rica to sell a piece of themselves to American men. We talked to two men who vacation together in Costa Rica every year, leaving their wives and children at home, and spending each night in Jaco at the most well known hang-out for prostitutes, the Beatle Bar – appropriately named, I think. If you drive only five minutes south of Jaco, you will find the Costa Rica you see in travel magazines at Playa Hermosa – a beautiful black sand beach with great surf and only a handful of people on the beach.

On our way to Panama, we hit so many pot-holes that we were shocked the axels did not break. That was surprising considering that I had assumed the infrastructure in Costa Rica, a wealthy and Americanized country, would be much better than that of the rest of Central America. One of the pot-holes was impossible to see ahead of time, and we hit it at 45mph which caused our sleeping friend in the back seat to bounce and slam against the roof of the car – twice. The roads in Costa Rica were far from the best (that honor goes to El Salvador, which had roads as nice as any in the United States); in fact, they were hands down the worst roads we navigated on the trip.

What I really want you to know is that being the most Americanized country in Central America does not mean it is the best. Costa Rica is gorgeous, no doubt, and I recommend visiting there, but make sure you get outside of the tourist towns to see what life is really like in Central America – it is wonderful and you won’t regret it. And don’t refuse to go to other countries, like El Salvador or Panama, just because people tell you Costa Rica is more safe or more beautiful. All of the Central American countries are beautiful, and, just like my hometown and probably yours, they all have some problems.

The Apple of My Eye

I am admittedly biased towards Baja. You see, for kids growing up in San Diego, Baja is often our first taste of adventure and defiance of parental fiat, especially before passports were required to re-enter the United States. This was certainly the case for myself and my high school buddies. We began by driving to surf spots near the border, like Baja Malibu, but we slowly inched our way down the coast, becoming more confident with each trip. By the time we graduated from high school, we were surfing in more rural areas as far as three hours south of the border. But as soon as we turned 18, we were free to explore the entire Baja peninsula--which we have now done twice.

Here's what we discovered: Baja is a jewel; it is our desert princess. Really, it is beyond what can be described by travel guides or surf books. The empty waves on the Pacific coast are great, and the tranquility on the Sea of Cortez is therapeutic.

On the Pacific coast, we spent many weekends surfing at Punta San Jacinto, which is called shipwrecks because there is an old freight ship wreckage in the surf lineup. On these weekends we also frequented the beautiful winery at Santo Tomas, from which we sometimes did not make it back to the beach. Heading south, towards the desert and Cabo, we found wonderful beaches and waves at Punta Baja, Punta Santa Rosalita, Punta Abreojos, Scorpion Bay, and, of course, the noticeably more crowded spots in and around Cabo San Lucas.

Most surprising, though, was that we enjoyed the flat water in the Sea of Cortez as much as we did the waves of the Pacific. Over a period of a few years, we probably spent more than a month in Bahia de Los Angeles (about 8 hours south of the border), where we enjoyed nice lodging, friendly people, great food, and even better fishing. Heading towards Cabo from Bahia, there are several great towns on the Sea of Cortez. Santa Rosalia is an old mining town with wonderful nightlife and access by ferry to mainland Mexico. Mulege is a desert oasis, and perhaps the most beautiful town in Baja. Mulege has the crystal-clear water, huge sandbars, and mangroves that could inspire a Jimmy Buffet song. Loreto is a town famous for its old church, and is a great place to stop and spend a few days before completing the drive to Cabo.

Baja is great because of its culture, waves, weather, etc. But it is particularly special to me, as it is the place where my friends and I first cut our adventure teeth. After only six to twelve hours of driving from one of the most populated regions of the United States, Baja offers the isolation, adventure, and beauty that some travel around the world to find.

El Salvador: El Pais Bonito

In the summer of 2006, I drove with some friends from Southern California to Ecuador, South America. As is the case with most Central American border crossings, which are always bureaucratic hell-holes, we had trouble crossing the border from Guatemala into El Salvador. The government employees in El Salvador refused to let us cross because we had somehow managed to drive to El Salvador without legally entering Mexico or Guatemala. So, we went back to Guatemala and paid for falsified entry stamps from government officials--I must admit, corruption didn't seem too bad when it worked in my favor. It wasn't the nicest welcome to the country, but we were given 60 day visas for our stay in El Salvador.

As we drove along what turned out to be the most beautiful coastline any of us had ever seen, we passed through a pastoral little town called Sunzal, where we wound up staying after realizing there would not be many towns as ideal as that one. We stayed in a rustic hotel for only $5 per night, used hammocks for beds, and were surrounded by beautiful red-budded trees which grow like weeds along the El Salvadorian coastline. Looking one direction from our hotel, we had a nice view of the ocean; looking the other way, we had an incredible view of green mountains that rise almost straight up from the ocean.

For days, we ate nothing but pupusas (4 for a dollar), until one day we decided to check out the surf at the famous Punta Roca in La Libertad. The surf was great, as advertised, and the cuisine offered a nice change, but La Libertad was one of the few places in Central America that seemed as seedy as its reputation, so we decided to spend all of our time enjoying Sunzal. From Sunzal, we took some great day-trips in search of surf along the rugged and isolated west coast of El Salvador.

Honestly, I wasn't sure what to expect when we entered El Salvador. Would it be a country with lingering signs of a civil war from a quarter century earlier? Would it be a dangerous country, infested with gang members from MS 13? These were the thoughts I had of El Salvador based on American media reporting. But what I found was much different: El Salvador was perhaps the most beautiful country I had visited. Its unique blend of great surf, warm water, nice beaches, green mountains with red flowering trees, tasty food, and kind locals have given El Salvador a special place in my memory. And the fact that the El Salvadorians wouldn't let us in -- or accept a bribe in exchange for granting us entry -- to their country without proper documentation must mean that they are more of a by-the-book country than their neighbors in Guatemala or Honduras.