Loitering too long over coffee, pancakes and fruit in my chill little possie in front of the hostel, I ended up having to rush to catch my morning bus out of Montezuma. Panic averted when found a longish line of people waiting to board so patiently waited my turn. This time I was savvy enough to take the sun position into account and sat accordingly on a more comfortable side. Meditatively taking in the picturesque surroundings as it passed me by, I was startled when the bus suddenly braked to allow a large snake to make its way across the road. I asked the driver if it was dangerous and he waved his hand in a nonchalant way I took to mean ‘not so much’. Then it was back down through twisting roads to the ferry terminal in Paquera.
I had nearly an hour before the ferry left so plenty of time to purchase my ticket and organise an on-board beer to accompany my sweet deck-side seat. From there it was just a matter of watching tiny, jungle clad islets slowly pass us by as our ferry negotiated the calm, turquoise waters of the Golfo de Nicoya.
Back at Puntarenas, I tried to find where to catch the bus to Jaco. According to the guidebook, it was on a corner a block away from the terminal. Which corner and in which direction was not provided so I decided to ask around. The first hombre I asked said no, I had to take a taxi into Centro to the bus terminal. The second hombre said nah, just wait on that corner there and it will turn up. I decided to check at the little shop on the corner and that hombre gave me the same information as the first. I bit the bullet and decided I might as well walk the 2.5kms into town and hope for the best.
As I had already walked straight through the middle of the little peninsula Puentarenas is situated on, I thought I would walk on the ocean side this time. I passed an ice cream truck selling Puentarenas’ premier dessert – The Churchill and decided to try one. Evidently, it was named after the man who ‘invented’ it who allegedly looked like Winston Churchill. Personally, I think our Churchill lookalike had his in-laws coming over for dinner and chucked whatever he had in the fridge/pantry in a glass bowl. A base of shaved ice, with every conceivable topping and additional dessert option combined, the Churchill was a delicious, albeit bilious, affair.
After watching a couple of iguanas having a face off on the median strip while I was consuming my Churchill, I set off in the searing Puentarenas heat. I had directions for the bus terminal and found it easily enough. I had about a half hour’s wait for the next bus heading where I wanted to go, so sat down to cool down a bit while awaiting its arrival.
The journey to Jaco headed south inland from the Pacific coast, weaving in and out of small towns and settlements. It was very pleasant sitting in the air cooled bus as it rumbled its way towards its destination. I had no concept of what Jaco was like and even if I had, nothing could have prepared me for the mainstream US coastal tourist town vibe of the place. There was nothing Costa Rican about this place apart from the souvenirs. And it was teeming with tourists. I checked into my hostel and went out in search of a soothing cerveza and something to eat.
I had decided to do a walk to a lookout the next morning but hated the place so much, I decided to hightail it out of there first opportunity in the morning. So it was back to the hostel after dinner for an early night.
Wild Woman Wandering 