Volcán Tenorio and Tamarindo

Costa Ricans don't really wear sunglasses. Just an observation.

Breakfast.  Checkout.  On the road by 7:30am.

I was not aware until we got into our van that we were doing another tour today.  Janna set up this trip; I am just along for a ride.  While I was under the impression we were going straight to the coast, our tour guide, Santo, informed us that he was taking us on a tour of another volcano - Tenorio.

Tenorio is known for it mineral-laden volcanic water that flows from the mountain and is brilliant blue.  People don't drink it and really don't swim in it anymore because the minerals are so consentrated. It took about 1.5 hours to get there and then the entire hike took about 2 hours.  Quinn was right there with us this time.

Santos was less warm than Jorge, our awesome guide from the other day, but had similar training.  He seemed like someone who was either not loving his job, had something on his mind, or was carrying a bit of a burden.  Curious, I asked him if he had any kids. "None that I know of," he replied quickly.  This is a common response among strangers and I thought about laughing it off.  But you know me. It turns out he has a 7 years old son from his wife's first marriage.  But the wife isn't actually his wife yet since she is still married to another man.  But she will be his wife after she divorces her current police officer husband.  He also has a 1.5 year old daughter who "he thinks" is his - even though that niña carries the name of the police officer.  Once the divorce happens, then they can get married and Santos can take the baby girl to the Church and legally change the baby's name to his name.  The kids live with his future mother in law.

Facebook Relationship Status: Its Complicated

Two rivers each carrying different volcanic minerals.
When they combine the "miracle" happens.
The water turns blue.

After a nice local lunch (I had Casado again) and a 2 hour drive, we made it to Tamarindo.  Not long after the volcano we were out of the rainforests and in a much drier climate.  Things quickly started to "feel" more like Central America.  More garbage, rougher housing.  In the rainforest and foothills, everything was green and the houses were nice and kept up.  In Tamarindo, its dry, dusty, and disheveled. There are street venders. There is garbage. There are stray dogs. It is going to take us a couple of days to adjust.

Our driver could not find our "hotel."  This was our first clue that we were no longer in the posh of Arenál.  Of course there is no driveway here. Or parking lot. Or reception desk.  The Ocho Artisan Bungalows just has a poorly lit, handcrafted sign off the main drag.  That sign is the entrance to, and beginning of, a walkway/boardwalk to the open bar area (which doubles as the reception desk) which overlooks a small pool which overlooks a rainwater runoff ditch which cuts in front of the beach.  The ditch/gully/creek has a sign facing the beach warning of crocodiles and at high tide the water from the ocean makes its way over the beach and runs upstream.  It's probably a sewer canal.  Ilse, the receptionist/owner?/bartender/free spirit Belgian hippy with a garter tattoo around her right thigh, greeted us midway down the walkway before Santos ran back to see if we were okay.  I am guessing that Santos, after seeing the hotel that we departed from this morning, wanted to give us one last chance to change our minds.  Or maybe saw our faces and wanted to save us.  Santos, I will pray for your non-wife and non-kids if you will pray that the pool here is not of the "above-ground" variety.  Isle got us to our room after a brief tour of this tiny property.

The pool was in the ground. All good.

The room is really cool.  It is kinda rustic, but elegant.  The bungalow is draped floor to ceiling. No windows (actually the exterior walls are glass, but the drapes cover every square inch). There are two wooden sleigh twin beds and a 4-post king.  There is a bathroom with no door, just a curtain, and a kitchen.  Essentially it is all one big room with king bed in the middle up against a stone half-wall. Go right of the king to the bathroom.  Go left to the kitchen.  It's like a cabin.  We know how to do this.

The beach was kind of a disappointment. But after walking up and down the beach a ways, I realized that the entire Tamarindo area beaches are similar to ours.  All along the beaches are free spirits with hammocks and cars backed up to the beach.  Surfers and societal dropouts mixing with tourists like me.  The ocean is filled with novice to advanced surfers and, straight off our hotel, are boats and small yachts anchored way offshore.

View of the pool/crocodiles/beach from open air bar.

I feel like I need some time to get my bearings. I just came from a classic hotel. Now I am staying in a commune.  I am half expecting someone to offer me some weed - or maybe to play Go.

I like that we are close to town.  Ilsa gave us some restaurant options. We chose Dragonfly and were very pleased with the Asian Fusion.  On the walk back we watched some futsal and hit the local grocery store and got stuff for breakfasts and lunches.  We good.

Really not gonna judge this place until we leave.  Culture shock does not mean the new culture is bad.  Stay tuned.

Local futsal court near our dinner.