We stayed at Rockin' J's, a cheap hostel right on the ocean, with a bunch of other people from our program. Friday we spent the afternoon bumming around on the beach, and exploring Puerto Viejo. It's a got a different vibe from Manuel Antonio (the beach we went to on the Pacific side two weeks ago); a little less touristy with a strong Jamaican influence. Also, there's a pretty large ex-pat/hippy population. Anyway, on Saturday a bunch of us decided to rent bikes and ride to Manzanillo (about 8 miles away) and check out the beach there. I think the last time I was on a real bicycle (as opposed to a stationary one in a gym) I was 12. So I kind of freaked out a little when I realized that I had to maneuver this awkward rusted purple bicycle down 8 miles of potholes and back again. When I say potholes... think of a road in the middle of a war zone and you might begin to understand how terrible this road was haha. So we made it to Manzanillo, enjoyed the beach, and had an amazing late lunch. However, after lunch Rhiannon realized that she couldn't find the key to her bike's lock. After launching a thorough search she went back to the restaurant to ask if anyone could pick locks. One of the workers there told her that someone would be coming with tools in a few minutes. A little while later a 10 year-old shows up on a bike w/what looks like the jaws of life. He didn't want to cut the cable so Rhiannon did it on her own. Then, we set off for Puerto Veijo, but we weren't out of the woods yet (haha pun). On the way back one of the girls in our group got a flat tire. I noticed she had stopped, along with another guy from our group, and we started walking with her. Luckily we happened upon a bicycle repair shop in the jungle. No really, it was a little hut/repair shop in the jungle surrounded by thick vegetation. Unfortunately, by the time we left the jungle repair shop it was pitch black. The narrow road had street lights in some areas, but there were some pretty long stretches without any light at all. Adding to our nervousness was the creepy sound emanating from the jungle that my friend supposed to be a jaguar, and the cryptic advice of the repairman to be wary of ladrones. At the time none of us could remember how to translate ladrones... it means thieves. After about 30 frightening minutes of riding in the dark, dodging oncoming traffic, three of our friends showed up. They had gotten worried when we didn't show up for dinner. It was SO nice to see friendly faces on a dark road in a foreign country =-) It all ended well, no worries. We made it back to the hostel, and had a great night. This weekend really was amazing. There's more to tell, but I've got to study now. Most posts soon!
my bike and i
wish you were here
yes this is how i spend my weekends in costa rica ;)
Oh my! You are killing me. Please don't ride your bicycle through the jungle at night
ReplyDeleteLove you,
Dad