Montezuma, Costa Rica.
Tucked away along the coast of Punta Arenas Province, is an eastern facing town called Montezuma. If you look at a map and run your finger down the Pacific side of Costa Rica, Montezuma will appear as you reach the southeast side of the first peninsula extending into the sea. I hear foreigners on the street here describing this place as 'quaint' and 'bohemian' so yes, I would say it's a hippy town, only with less tree-hugging hula hoopers and more dreadlocked, jewelry making stoners. Mellow. Slow moving. Warm ocean breezes. Cold beers perspiring on charmingly dilapidated wooden bars.
I arrived here on Monday planning to stay two nights and everyday since I have walked downstairs from my quiet little deck to tell the woman at reception, (the open shutter along the side of the house) I will stay "one more day". It's Saturday now and I haven't felt inclined to go anywhere. Each day has been incredible. With a bathing suit, sarong and some Colones you can do whatever you want.
The first evening I lay back on the beach mesmerized, sand still warm from the sun, salt water pooling into my belly bottom. I watched the color of the blue sky seamlessly transition into soft pinks and oranges highlighting the billowing clouds. As the sky turned, I could sense a shift happening inside of me, creating a liberating sense of peace. It moved slowly into my chest, swelled like the tide and overflowed in the form of one large alligator tear spilling out of my right eye. A single tear of joy. Ahhh, happiness.
I wanted to tell everyone- and so I did.
I grabbed another Pilsen beer and sat down with a local guy I had struck up a conversation with earlier in the day. In these small towns you can't help but run into the same people several times a day while meandering the main drag. He was charming and quick witted and understood the feeling I described to him saying, 'Yeah, that happens here.'
For me, as a native of North America's west coast, sunrise on the ocean is counter intuitive yet despite this truth, waking up for sunrise over the ocean here feels so natural and so much like home. Mornings involved watching our sparkling orange ball of fire arise from the water. Daily breakfast consisted of watermelon, pineapple and mango and then potentially passion fruit, tangerines and cold beer for lunch. I was fully sustained on fresh fruit, banana bread, beer and fresh fish caught on the line earlier that day.
This was just the beginning.
While boating out to Tortuga Island we spotted humpback whales breaching. We followed them for a few minutes and got to see an entire tail flip out of the water. A whale's tail?! Come on, isn't that 88 years of good luck or something? Underwater and with a snorkel and mask, I spotted boxfish, clownfish and shark. With a glassy ocean, I swam out into the deep and felt like a fish myself. Hikes to views, more cold beers and like minded New Yorkers. More than once I caught myself smiling from ear to ear for no specific reason at all, other than believing it was the best day ever. My eyes would wander along the lush jungle and then be refocused by the erratic flight of a butterfly, seemingly as big as my face or ospreys circling above catching warm thermal updrafts higher into the sunny sky.
After morning swims along the shore I would drink fresh lemonade with mint and passion fruit and notice the corners of my mouth stretching upward into a smile again. One day, I found myself giggling quietly because just below my bare feet a woman was sweeping up beautiful flowers which had fallen from vines twisted into the landscape. Something in life is going right if beautiful flowers become a nuisance. Another sign things are on the right track is when you get to know the guys who work at the 'super mercado'. The one mini supermarket in town with constant foot traffic and workers restocking shelves by the hour. You know the place, one of everything, floor to ceiling stuff, from birthday candles to baking soda to bubble gum. With insider connections you can avoid the warmer beer due to the constantly revolving doors on the beer cooler and be welcomed into the cold beer club. It's a secret society of small town people who have 'made it'.
Just south of Montezuma and up river are a series of waterfalls nestled into lush jungle. Within 20 minutes you can arrive to the first fall and 20 minutes after that the second. For those with more grit, there exists a third fall which requires grasping onto tree roots and shimmying up more treacherous terrain. But, for the scramblers and the gamblers a bigger reward awaits: a beautiful fall and less of a crowd. This fall had a jumping rock that peeked out above the moving water. Not for the faint of heart, it's one of those jumps where you have time to think in the air, really ponder things in the seconds of free fall. A leap where if you don't nail the landing, your arms will be smacked along the surface of the water causing instant bruises. So Big. And SO fun :)
Launching off rocks and diving under waterfalls felt like I imagine the Phoenix must have felt rising up from the ashes. Rejuvenating like nothing else. The fresh cool water pounding on my shoulders and such internal excitement that even though no one could hear me, there I was saying out loud how amazing it all was. Permagrin. Again. The next morning, a sore body in all the right places from deep ocean swimming and trail traversing was just the right way to wake up. Back outside where I spen t all my days I saw pelicans flying in flocks 60 birds strong, like nothing I have ever witnessed. Their V formations stretching out along the backdrop of the pacific, each bird drafting along the wings of the bird in front of them. No matter how many times they flew over I would gaze up, the peaceful glide of their flight never losing its novelty. Even the small bits of sand in my sheets signifying a hard days play in the ocean held a weird sense of novelty in the state I was in.
Invites to bonfires on the beach whose dry drift wood logs burned until morning. A shooting star dashed across the night sky. The Irish chancer in me thought it was time to make a wish and so I looked to my new friend Javi to see if this wish phenomenon exists here. Javi explained that he didn't have a wish. 'I have everything I need', he said, as he sat there shirtless and barefoot in the sand. 'I have everything I deserve,' he continued. I sat in the bold silence of his response and smiled. I appreciated him for this grounding perspective, which is the reason I seek out the knowledge of perfect strangers. But. My wish was already made. He coaxed it out of me. He nodded his head. Smiled. 'It will come' he assured me. These things always do.
In this place I have no real need for hair product. I can't even remember the last time I washed my hair. The combination of fresh water deluges and salt water swims has given my hair an amazing texture, settling perfectly atop my head after a good shake and comb through with my fingers. Everyday has been a good hair day and more so, a really good day. Full stop.
Yesterday, while hiking back to the waterfalls for more adrenaline, I ran upon a band of monkeys. These monkeys have been made almost fearless, as people have taken to feeding them for a 'cute picture'. (Side note: attention everyone, everywhere, please don't feed wild animals. Ever.) Moving on. So I see these monkeys seeking any opportunity to sneak my snacks and they're all in cahoots, working to distract me from my goodies. I act big, clap my hands and begin to play with them. Out loud again, as if these monkeys understand language, let alone English in this Spanish speaking country, I say, 'I'm going to get you monkey!' I'm in such an exuberant mood that even when said monkey darts above me causing a mini sized avalanche, which sends a rock the size of my fist into my leg, I'm not even mad. It struck blood immediately and my first thought was not of pain but of, 'you got me that time monkey.' Smiling, I shook my head. Then I laughed to myself, thinking that a scar left by a playful, yet still conniving monkey in this incredible place is a scar I will take. Touché monkey, thank you very much. Pleased, I kept walking, blood dripping, feeling alive.
Moments later, while gripping the rocks to stay vertical, the man in front of me on the trail almost puts his hand around THE LARGEST iguana I have ever seen. Seriously, I am not just saying this because it sounds cool. It WAS. So. Cool. The beard alone on this guy was incredibly striking. A regal creature straight out of the land of dinosaurs. Scaled skin of green, grey, yellow, red and black. It's mid section about the same size as the pregnant cat living at the restaurant near my place. A tail like a whip, slow steady movements with claws resembling the curved talons of an eagle. Seemingly ancient, this sun worshiper sat on the rocks, basking in the sun, warming his amphibious blood. A minute later I was talking to Dani who tells me this impressive creature is a local here whom he sees daily. Dani has scars on his leg from the whip of this beast's tail in frightened moments of fight over flight. Incredible.
Now, day six, I have fallen into little routines that all involve extreme relaxation and/or extreme sport. I have come to know how to turn the trick light switch on in my room with three flicks and holding down the bottom until it fires on. I recognize the guy in town slurring his words by noon and the man from Northern California ironically involved in selling the best extra curriculars. I know that at about 5:30 the caballero with the horses brings them up the beach to water and feed them. I know each vendor's face and the intricacy of their handmade crafts, as well as where to get the best smoothie and cheapest bottled beer in town. I know the guys down at CocoColores restaurant start food prepping around 4:00 and singing 90s rock music loud enough for me to sing along with them. I know a hidden bench formed into the rocks just up from the main beach and where the live music will be playing at happy hour. On the other hand, I know I will never be able to slice a mango like a local or walk around barefoot without wincing at the really sharp rocks. I know I will not be able to ride a dirt bike nearly as well around the unknown turns in the gravel road or catch all the slang terms in their conversations but I do know this, I have fallen in love with this place. I will return one day to experience it again but no place is quite the same as you left it, now is it. Until then it will live in my memory on a pedestal. The small town that sucked me in, held on tight and stole my heart. Thank you Montezuma, you have been too kind.
Attached are a few pictures in and around Montezuma. I have but a few, preferring to take mental pictures to live in an album in my heart rather than pause to tap a shutter. There is a saying about that somewhere that I love and can't remember exactly.
Tucked away along the coast of Punta Arenas Province, is an eastern facing town called Montezuma. If you look at a map and run your finger down the Pacific side of Costa Rica, Montezuma will appear as you reach the southeast side of the first peninsula extending into the sea. I hear foreigners on the street here describing this place as 'quaint' and 'bohemian' so yes, I would say it's a hippy town, only with less tree-hugging hula hoopers and more dreadlocked, jewelry making stoners. Mellow. Slow moving. Warm ocean breezes. Cold beers perspiring on charmingly dilapidated wooden bars.
I arrived here on Monday planning to stay two nights and everyday since I have walked downstairs from my quiet little deck to tell the woman at reception, (the open shutter along the side of the house) I will stay "one more day". It's Saturday now and I haven't felt inclined to go anywhere. Each day has been incredible. With a bathing suit, sarong and some Colones you can do whatever you want.
The first evening I lay back on the beach mesmerized, sand still warm from the sun, salt water pooling into my belly bottom. I watched the color of the blue sky seamlessly transition into soft pinks and oranges highlighting the billowing clouds. As the sky turned, I could sense a shift happening inside of me, creating a liberating sense of peace. It moved slowly into my chest, swelled like the tide and overflowed in the form of one large alligator tear spilling out of my right eye. A single tear of joy. Ahhh, happiness.
I wanted to tell everyone- and so I did.
I grabbed another Pilsen beer and sat down with a local guy I had struck up a conversation with earlier in the day. In these small towns you can't help but run into the same people several times a day while meandering the main drag. He was charming and quick witted and understood the feeling I described to him saying, 'Yeah, that happens here.'
For me, as a native of North America's west coast, sunrise on the ocean is counter intuitive yet despite this truth, waking up for sunrise over the ocean here feels so natural and so much like home. Mornings involved watching our sparkling orange ball of fire arise from the water. Daily breakfast consisted of watermelon, pineapple and mango and then potentially passion fruit, tangerines and cold beer for lunch. I was fully sustained on fresh fruit, banana bread, beer and fresh fish caught on the line earlier that day.
This was just the beginning.
While boating out to Tortuga Island we spotted humpback whales breaching. We followed them for a few minutes and got to see an entire tail flip out of the water. A whale's tail?! Come on, isn't that 88 years of good luck or something? Underwater and with a snorkel and mask, I spotted boxfish, clownfish and shark. With a glassy ocean, I swam out into the deep and felt like a fish myself. Hikes to views, more cold beers and like minded New Yorkers. More than once I caught myself smiling from ear to ear for no specific reason at all, other than believing it was the best day ever. My eyes would wander along the lush jungle and then be refocused by the erratic flight of a butterfly, seemingly as big as my face or ospreys circling above catching warm thermal updrafts higher into the sunny sky.
After morning swims along the shore I would drink fresh lemonade with mint and passion fruit and notice the corners of my mouth stretching upward into a smile again. One day, I found myself giggling quietly because just below my bare feet a woman was sweeping up beautiful flowers which had fallen from vines twisted into the landscape. Something in life is going right if beautiful flowers become a nuisance. Another sign things are on the right track is when you get to know the guys who work at the 'super mercado'. The one mini supermarket in town with constant foot traffic and workers restocking shelves by the hour. You know the place, one of everything, floor to ceiling stuff, from birthday candles to baking soda to bubble gum. With insider connections you can avoid the warmer beer due to the constantly revolving doors on the beer cooler and be welcomed into the cold beer club. It's a secret society of small town people who have 'made it'.
Just south of Montezuma and up river are a series of waterfalls nestled into lush jungle. Within 20 minutes you can arrive to the first fall and 20 minutes after that the second. For those with more grit, there exists a third fall which requires grasping onto tree roots and shimmying up more treacherous terrain. But, for the scramblers and the gamblers a bigger reward awaits: a beautiful fall and less of a crowd. This fall had a jumping rock that peeked out above the moving water. Not for the faint of heart, it's one of those jumps where you have time to think in the air, really ponder things in the seconds of free fall. A leap where if you don't nail the landing, your arms will be smacked along the surface of the water causing instant bruises. So Big. And SO fun :)
Launching off rocks and diving under waterfalls felt like I imagine the Phoenix must have felt rising up from the ashes. Rejuvenating like nothing else. The fresh cool water pounding on my shoulders and such internal excitement that even though no one could hear me, there I was saying out loud how amazing it all was. Permagrin. Again. The next morning, a sore body in all the right places from deep ocean swimming and trail traversing was just the right way to wake up. Back outside where I spen t all my days I saw pelicans flying in flocks 60 birds strong, like nothing I have ever witnessed. Their V formations stretching out along the backdrop of the pacific, each bird drafting along the wings of the bird in front of them. No matter how many times they flew over I would gaze up, the peaceful glide of their flight never losing its novelty. Even the small bits of sand in my sheets signifying a hard days play in the ocean held a weird sense of novelty in the state I was in.
Invites to bonfires on the beach whose dry drift wood logs burned until morning. A shooting star dashed across the night sky. The Irish chancer in me thought it was time to make a wish and so I looked to my new friend Javi to see if this wish phenomenon exists here. Javi explained that he didn't have a wish. 'I have everything I need', he said, as he sat there shirtless and barefoot in the sand. 'I have everything I deserve,' he continued. I sat in the bold silence of his response and smiled. I appreciated him for this grounding perspective, which is the reason I seek out the knowledge of perfect strangers. But. My wish was already made. He coaxed it out of me. He nodded his head. Smiled. 'It will come' he assured me. These things always do.
In this place I have no real need for hair product. I can't even remember the last time I washed my hair. The combination of fresh water deluges and salt water swims has given my hair an amazing texture, settling perfectly atop my head after a good shake and comb through with my fingers. Everyday has been a good hair day and more so, a really good day. Full stop.
Yesterday, while hiking back to the waterfalls for more adrenaline, I ran upon a band of monkeys. These monkeys have been made almost fearless, as people have taken to feeding them for a 'cute picture'. (Side note: attention everyone, everywhere, please don't feed wild animals. Ever.) Moving on. So I see these monkeys seeking any opportunity to sneak my snacks and they're all in cahoots, working to distract me from my goodies. I act big, clap my hands and begin to play with them. Out loud again, as if these monkeys understand language, let alone English in this Spanish speaking country, I say, 'I'm going to get you monkey!' I'm in such an exuberant mood that even when said monkey darts above me causing a mini sized avalanche, which sends a rock the size of my fist into my leg, I'm not even mad. It struck blood immediately and my first thought was not of pain but of, 'you got me that time monkey.' Smiling, I shook my head. Then I laughed to myself, thinking that a scar left by a playful, yet still conniving monkey in this incredible place is a scar I will take. Touché monkey, thank you very much. Pleased, I kept walking, blood dripping, feeling alive.
Moments later, while gripping the rocks to stay vertical, the man in front of me on the trail almost puts his hand around THE LARGEST iguana I have ever seen. Seriously, I am not just saying this because it sounds cool. It WAS. So. Cool. The beard alone on this guy was incredibly striking. A regal creature straight out of the land of dinosaurs. Scaled skin of green, grey, yellow, red and black. It's mid section about the same size as the pregnant cat living at the restaurant near my place. A tail like a whip, slow steady movements with claws resembling the curved talons of an eagle. Seemingly ancient, this sun worshiper sat on the rocks, basking in the sun, warming his amphibious blood. A minute later I was talking to Dani who tells me this impressive creature is a local here whom he sees daily. Dani has scars on his leg from the whip of this beast's tail in frightened moments of fight over flight. Incredible.
Now, day six, I have fallen into little routines that all involve extreme relaxation and/or extreme sport. I have come to know how to turn the trick light switch on in my room with three flicks and holding down the bottom until it fires on. I recognize the guy in town slurring his words by noon and the man from Northern California ironically involved in selling the best extra curriculars. I know that at about 5:30 the caballero with the horses brings them up the beach to water and feed them. I know each vendor's face and the intricacy of their handmade crafts, as well as where to get the best smoothie and cheapest bottled beer in town. I know the guys down at CocoColores restaurant start food prepping around 4:00 and singing 90s rock music loud enough for me to sing along with them. I know a hidden bench formed into the rocks just up from the main beach and where the live music will be playing at happy hour. On the other hand, I know I will never be able to slice a mango like a local or walk around barefoot without wincing at the really sharp rocks. I know I will not be able to ride a dirt bike nearly as well around the unknown turns in the gravel road or catch all the slang terms in their conversations but I do know this, I have fallen in love with this place. I will return one day to experience it again but no place is quite the same as you left it, now is it. Until then it will live in my memory on a pedestal. The small town that sucked me in, held on tight and stole my heart. Thank you Montezuma, you have been too kind.
Attached are a few pictures in and around Montezuma. I have but a few, preferring to take mental pictures to live in an album in my heart rather than pause to tap a shutter. There is a saying about that somewhere that I love and can't remember exactly.
yay! so glad you made it there. did you stay at la luna llena?
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