Day 46 Part II: We survived the road to Monteverde

The lagoon surrouding the volcano

A lonesome dead tree in the meadow

An attempt to take a picture of the road. Couldn't help the blur.

The peace and relaxation we enjoyed in the morning got tossed out the car window when we hit the road to Monteverde (and every one of its potholes). I read that the drive was rough so I anticipated the potholes, the dirt, the shrinking roads and brittle bridges. I must have just repressed my memories of the road to Pavones when I decided to take us to one that could be ranked worse. The view did its best to help ease the stress of the road as it offered endless sights of green meadows with grazing cows during sunset. The view was pretty, but it didn’t distract us from the ride.



Being Matt’s first experience on these types of roads, he was equally amazed and appalled. We all agreed that the worst part was the stretches of dirt moguls. I couldn’t help but laugh as Matt uncontrollably spewed prayers and curses in the back seat while dodging concussions. My favorite of his observations was when, without joking, he wondered how babies are driven around on the road since this is worse than shaking one. He’s confident the ride would induce some sort of brain damage.

The sun set, the road got worse, and the signs were still sparse. Fortunately, the options were slim and it kept us routed in one direction. To add to the stress, the car began to make a very loud clanking noise every time we hit a bump (which was every half a second). Matt, a professional mechanic, really didn’t like what he was hearing. And I really didn’t like the sounds of that. After a brief inspection in the dark, he concluded that it could just be a rock in the heat shield causing the racket. He hoped. (FYI, about thirty minutes later it stopped...he was right...we knew he was good.)

The few times we did question our navigation, we asked a few locals who all pointed us in the same direction. We finally made it, four hours after leaving La Fortuna, and arrived in our next town in the same condition as our last; looking for a place to fill our tummies and lay our heads.

Immediately upon entering their downtown we pulled off to the side of the road to check out the guide for a hotel and was immediately approached by a woman with a brochure for the hotel she owned (as to why an owner would be handing out brochures roadside, I’m not sure). She explained the amenities, we thanked her, and moved along. Further down the road, we pulled over again, only to have a man stop his car, jump out and give us a brochure for the hotel he owned. Then the Lonely Planet warnings started to come to life. Apparently there are scammers in this area that will tell you of “friends” or “family members” that own hotels or tour companies and encourage you to go with them. Now I haven’t figured out what they get out of the scam (since none have asked for money) but it was clear to beware of them and to make smart decisions. We chose to go with neither and continued on our way until we found a small, clean hotel with no other guests (another perk of the rainy season).


While trying to find a good restaurant, we were immediately stopped by local tico Jose, who pointed to the restaurant behind him that his family owns. Sure they do. It looked decent and had food, so it fit our criteria regardless of whose family owned it. When we sat down, Jose noticed the tour brochure I was reading and told us that it was the best company in the town. You know why? Because his familia owns it. What a coincidence.


While eating our ceviche (by the way, kudos to Matt for trying all local cuisine in a matter of 48 hours and loving every bit), Jose came over to chat with us. He asked where we came from so we told him that we were recently in La Fortuna. He asked what hotel. We told him Pura Vida. He was happy to hear that. Know why? Guess who owns it. Jose’s familia. Now it wasn’t the ridiculousness that this was the third place his family allegedly owned that made me start laughing. Wasn’t even the fact that the hotel was a tiny generic place about four hours away on barely drivable roads that made tears roll down my cheeks. It was my tiredness combined with the fact that the owners of the hotel were clearly not tico. I think the Chinese characters on their sign, their first floor Chinese restaurant, their lobby filled with Chinese Jade and golden cats, not to mention the fact that we spoke to them, made it clear to us that they were very Chinese. Jose was very much not. His familia is apparently very diverse.


We decided to book (not pay, just book) a Treetop Walkway tour with Jose’s family anyways since their office was two doors down. So tomorrow we’ll start our day with a walk on suspension bridges higher than the trees…that is if Jose’s familia pulls through with the 7:50am ride.