wonderings

Getting ready for Costa Rica

goldenfootprints — Thu, 15 Jan 2015 19:23:00 GMT

Pura Vida

I am leaving for Costa Rica, the Rich Coast, sandwiched between Nicaragua and Panama, on the 16th of January. Some say Costa Rica is the Switzerland of Central America. I am going to visit my brother, who has recently moved there, and his girlfriend Lorna. The population of Costa Rica is 4.8 million and the official language is Spanish. I have absolutely no Spanish under my belt.

I am expecting great coffee, the country's major export, along with bananas, and small green frogs with red eyes, a.k.a the red-eyed tree frog. I would like to join Lorna, who is also a trail runner, on a few trail runs while I am over there.

From Joburg to Cape Town to New York to Housten and then arriving in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, on the 17th January.

The republic of Costa Rica is in central America. The country has been a pioneer of ecotourism and has progressive environmental policies. Over 25% of Costa Rica's national territory is protected by SINAC (the National System of Conservation Areas), which oversees all of the country's protected areas. The Corcovado National Park and Tortuguero National Park are two national parks that I would love to visit. In the first park I want to see a Geoffroy's spider monkey, a squirrel monkey and most of all a Tapir. In the second park, I would like to see the world's fastest running lizzard, the spiny-tailed Iguana, the Green turtle, which nests in the park annually, the Giant leatherback turtle, the Hawksbill and the Loggerhead turtles.

Costa Rica is an egalitarian society, a society advocating equal rights for all and there is no opressed indigenous group. Most of the natives of Costa Rica inter-married with the Spanish speaking colonials. I hope to meet a native from either the Indigenous Bribri and Boruca tribe, which still exist in the mountains of the Cordillera de Talamanca, south of Costa Rica.

The highest point in the country is Cerro Chirripó, at 3,819 metres (12,530 ft) and the highest volcano in the country is the Irazú Volcano (3,431 m or 11,257 ft).The largest lake is Lake Arenal. Costa Rica has a tropical climate. It's dry season runs through from December to April and wet season from May through to November.

It has 800 miles of coastline on the Caribbean coastline and 631 miles of Pacific coastline. It also comprises several islands. Cocos Island is 24 square kilometres or 9.3 square miles, and it is 480 km from Puntarenas. Calero Island is the largest island of the country (151.6 square kilometres or 58.5 square miles).

I would like to find out about climbing, mountainbiking and surfing spots. I am not sure how expensive Costa Rica is for a South African but hopefully I won't get too much of a shock. I am not sure if there are any parts of the country which are relatively unexplored. I hope the locals will take us to places which we just can't miss. I want to feel the Pura Vida, pure life or good life, of the country and it's people. I would love to learn a bit of Salsa, taste local delicacies, which will most probably include beans! I can't wait to absorb this new cultural experience into my skin.

Flights

Accommodation

budget

transport within Costa Rica

Vaccinations

Best time of year to visit

Must bring….

Jaisalmer

goldenfootprints — Thu, 26 Sep 2013 01:42:00 GMT

Mr Bilal grinned at us as we sat in chairs with lion paw armrests, sipping chai in the hotel foyer. The marble was cool compared to the desert heat. We paged through his camel safari photo album and recommendation book. We were exhausted and hungry after a very eventful train trip from Jodhpur. We had been fore warned about camel safari tourist traps and so cautiously suggested that we were interested in his offer, but needed to think about it and have a look around first. It was the mention of special permits that worried us.

We left the lobby in good spirits and only a shot of apprehension. The German bakery was our first stop, and as touristy as that may sound, western pasteries are sometimes a welcome treat after spice round every other corner.

A man on his Bullet Enfield offered to show me his ‘Palace ‘hotel in the Jaisalmer fort. Just to look at. So off we went with a “bang!” The fort is fascinating but tourists are encouraged to seek accommodation outside the fort, to avoid wear and tear on the Fort.

When I returned I found my mom talking to Mr Dependre. Together we went down to Dependre’s factory. This man had eyes that we could trust. He told us stories of ancient garments in remote desert villages, sewn together into quilts by villagers. He opened each quilt dramatically, drawing oohs and ahhs from us. The little man at the back of the factory, sewing together pieces of cloth, made us wonder if Dependre’s stories were infact fabrications. We left feeling a bit disappointed. Our charming waiter at Natraj restaurant picked up our mood soon enough.

We woke up the next day to the smell of raw sewage and no hot water. We needed to make our decision. Could we trust Mr. Bilal. Going over the details we discovered that we had thought the price quoted the day before was for both of us. Further discussion revealed that most of the trip would be a jeep ride into the desert, after which we would hop onto a camel and then camp under the stars.We just didn’t trust him and he was becoming more and more forceful. We wanted to back out quickly and find a different hotel while we were about it.

We escaped the pressure cooker by taking another amble through the markets. Our day was filled with more offers of camel safaris and eager shop assistants. We discovered a delightful guesthouse called Shahi Palace. It was a dream. The people are friendly and organised, the rooms are tastefully decorated and they have a rooftop restaurant.

We went back to Hotel Payal, packed our bags and went to tell Mr. Bilal that we wouldn’t be doing his camel safari. He didn’t react well. We sneaked into the baggage storage and were collected by one of the staff from Shahi Palace on a back road hidden from Hotel Payal. We felt like escaped convicts.

That late afternoon we sat on the rooftop terrace soaking in our view of the Fort, which had a pinky-orange glow to it. Our evenings at Shahi Palace entailed sitting around a fire, some of us sipping local rum while others sipped bottled water, the fort lit up behind us. The Atmosphere was jovial, matching the colourful scattering of cushions on lazy benches.

The next day we booked a camel tour with Shahi Palace. We drove to a village and met the Rajashani camel man who would be taking us on our ride. We were introduced to his family and were shown into his home where we were made to feel very welcome. As we set off on our camel ride, we enjoyed our moment of being swept off into the desert. Camels exude such confidence despite their alarmingly grotesque facial expressions. The two camel herders who led us through the dunes might have had a good chance to compete in ‘the longest moustache’ competition, which takes place at the annual Rajasthan camel festival, in November, at the time of the full moon. Being one of India’s most popular travel experiences, the festival draws up to 300 000 people each year.

On our last day in Jaisalmer, having had enough of bargaining, we ended up buying our material at Ashoks factory shop at a set price. We had one Kurta made. The promise 1hour=1 Kurta ,2 hours=20 Kurtas. We did wonder if there was a catch somewhere. Unfortunately there were a few adjustments necessary with a screeching 30 minutes left before our train departed. We could definitely put this one down to shocking time management. Our tailor assured us that adjustments would only take 15 minutes, ‘Tikke, Tikke!’Everything is always ‘okay, okay!’, in India.

We ended up meeting the tailor at the train station, the Kurta wrapped up and ready to go. The hotel owner was with us for moral support. We checked the names on the side of the train and were puzzled as to why we were sitting so far apart from each other if we booked our tickets together. Some kind gentleman explains that we are looking at the female/age column.

“Get on the train.” The hotel manager says. “Where’s your ticket?” My mom passes the buck, “Kate, where’s the ticket?” I think to myself. “You have got to be kidding!”

Train to Jaisalmer

goldenfootprints — Tue, 17 Sep 2013 18:31:00 GMT

Our train hasn’t yet arrived. People are huddled together in family clusters on the platform floor waiting for their trains to pull into the station. There is a smell of oil and spice in the air, sweet yet distasteful. A chai wala passes chanting “CHAI” “CHAI”. Porters balancing towers of bags on their red turbans, weave through the stations traffic.

Jodphur feels blue, and the blue has left a mysterious taste lingering on my palet. The fort tells stories of Rajas and palanquins, widows executed just after their husbands have died. The view is spread out like a blanket of blues and purple hues. The market is a borough of alleyways.

We have rushed to catch our train and now it’s late. The man walking past us leading his blind dog makes me think that I have woken up too early for my own good. We board the train at 7:20am. Mom and I are in sleeper class 4, 55 and 56, upper and lower side berth as requested. We sigh and sit down. There is a smoker in our sleeper carriage and so we are thankful for open windows and a continuous stream of fresh air from outside,

“Chai! Chai! Chai!” The chai-man stops and looks me in the eye. I’m tempted. Before I can reach for my 5 rupees he is off again. “Chai! Chai!” Mr. Shoeshine steps in threatening to polish our white trainers. “No thank you,” we signal with exaggerated hand gestures. This does not deter our smiling shoe polisher. Instead in desperate, progressive, innovative foresight, he offers to re-colour our shoes pink. “No thank you.” We smile and ignore him. My window doesn’t close and the fresh air is now an icy draft shooting through.

Babaloo appears.

“Locks?Chain? Zip for your bag? Only one minute. Very good!”

“Nahi!” I say emphatically

“Okay, okay! Zip very good!”

“Nahi!”

“Okay shoe polish?”

“No!”

Mr Shoe shine comes back and starts fixing an Indian lady’s pink sandals. Babaloo is chanting “zip, zip, zip”, in the background. Does he not understand that we don’t want a zip. In fact, we don’t want anything.

Babaloo starts to sing a song using the zip as an instrument. In comes a beggar cupping his hands for a tip. I am longing to take my shoes off but I don’t dare incase they get polished.

The finale brings forth a Eunuch, offering his blessing, expecting a tip and clapping his hands, throwing his personality around the carriage in a very forceful and melodramatic way.

And then they’re gone, transvestite, beggar, Babaloo, Mr Shoeshine and the chai-man.

Pause.

“Yes! Yes! Hello! Chain repairing? Hello?”

In retrospect I wish I’d had a cup of chai, revamped my trainers, bought a zip from Babaloo, given the beggar a rupee and clapped hands with the transvestite. That would have left a smile on everyone’s faces

We arrived in Jaisalmer. The sign read “Pammy and Catty.” “Must be us,” we thought, seeing as we are the only foreigners on the platform.