Costa Rica....

Thursday I travelled down to Playa Zancudo. Hell of a trip. Started off with being told that my computer bag was too big for carry on luggage and had to be checked. Needed to hand carry the laptop and retrieve andvaluables and send it off. Then asked how much I weighed, which I thought was odd, until I saw the plane. A tiny 12 seater with 4 rows of seats immediatly behing the pilots. I was in row two in a double seat and instead of the usual lapstrap there was an extra shouldef strap that clipped onto the lapstrap. Like in a car. I could watch the pilots and the instruments all the way. FYI San Jose is at 3,000 feet and we climbed to 9,500, the single nose prop was at max revs all the way and the other dials I had no idea what they did. Landing at Golfito was a bit like landing at the old Hong Kong airport. We came in off the ocean and headed straight for the tree covered mountain. At the last minute, which with the winds almost seemed too late, we veered to the left fley in over the town and landed on a tarmac strip carved out of the rainforest. Plane pulled up by the gate, literally the gate in the fence, off-loaded the bags which were collected for me by a very friendly taxi driver and walked off of the airport. No arrivals hall although there was a building there which I guess is for departures, I'll find out next week.

Stage two was the taxi ride down the middle of the road, dodging pot holes and oncoming traffic to the 'docks' where I picked up a private ferry to Zancudo.

Golfito Dock

Andrew and his water taxi

On arrival in Zancudo, after a 30 minute trip, I was transferred to an old short wheel base landrover that had seen better days and taken to the Oceano Cabinas. A truly delightful bar, restaurant and cabinas in the heart of the sand spit that is Zancudo. (More of which later)

Wandered up and down the only road in the dark and had dinner in a little soda (Tico cafe) which consisted of the world wide staple of rice and chicken. It seems like everywhere I have travelled I have eaten a version of rice and chicken, or chicken and rice, sometimes both options are on the menu. Ended up in Bar Sussy chatting to the Spanish owner Manolo and an Argentinian who of course as soon as he found out I was English steered the conversation around to 'the hand of god'.


Walked back along the beach in the dark, dodging the trees and other flotsam left behind by the retreating tide, good job I took a torch. Fell asleep to the booming music from another bar a few yards up the street, will have to check it out tonight.