I'm at the end of the world, I wrote in my journal. There was no other way to put it in writing. All around me, there was nothing but wild steamy rainforest filled with slithering and howling denizens. A primeval wind blew through the canopy, coming and going. This was the last outpost. A research station at the foot of an active rumbling volcano.
The Arenal Observatory Lodge used to be a research station for scientists of the Smithsonian Institute, but at the time of this visit, it had become a resort for those who didn't mind the idea of being blown up sky high, squashed by a falling hot boulder, or burned alive in a river of fire. You know, tourists.
Arriving in San Jose, Blanche and I looked for our driver at the airport. It was mayhem outside with taxi drivers trying to get us to come along with them. We were to meet our own hotel driver, but he was nowhere to be found. Blanche and I discussed whether or not to take one of the taxi offers. "We wait," I said. Finally, we managed to shake off the insistent cab drivers, when a man walked up to us with a list that had our names in it.
"We have something here that we call tico time," the driver told us once we were seated inside the vehicle. "Tico time is different. Sometimes slow. Sometimes fast. Hahah!"
This was very interesting because when it comes to business, I am a punctual kind of guy, and at that time, I was amped up and living by the clock. After a long flight, I was not so amused, but I nodded and smiled politely. As it turned out, he was absolutely right. Later, I learned that tico time was real indeed and learning to navigate it was an essential aspect of la pura vida.
It was late at night and San Jose was looking desolate. We were going to be here for one night only. The following morning, we were going to travel to La Fortuna, northwest of the city.
After breakfast, we waited around for our driver, who eventually showed up and ushered us into a van along with other visitors.
After making the rounds to other hotels in the area, we were on our way to our new destination up north.
A wild ride ensued along narrow roads that became narrower the deeper it went into the mountains. How green everything looked! How bright! Each plant and each flower looked so vibrant. The colours popped even those growing in unusual places.
I noticed just how enterprising the Ticos were. All along the road, I saw vendor stalls selling food, arts and crafts, and so on. The tourism industry is a huge component of the Costa Rican economy. I could see how the locals were taking advantage of this opportunity. Though later in the trip, a taxi driver told us that some people didn't like how foreigners were buying property in Costa Rica because they drove up the prices. It used to be possible for the average Costa Rican to afford beach front property, now it was impossible, he told us. But he was also pragmatic and understood the value of foreign capital.
We stopped at some tourist shop along the way. They sold mostly arts and crafts along with clothing and souvenirs. After following a line of tourists around the shop, we then headed back into the van and off we went higher and higher into the mountains.
There were about eight of us passengers, and we all stared in wonder (and some concern) at the wilderness around us. Here we were in this rickey van going into the majestic and highly dangerous world of mist, foliage, waterfalls, volcanoes, and what have you. There was muttering among the passengers as the driver gunned it up the mountain road, swerving around trucks and other vehicles along the edge of a precipice. Waterfalls streamed onto the road and sprayed the van. Rain. Rainbows. Sunlight. Cliffs. The whole immensity of it. An environmental shock to the system.
The driver stopped at several places along the way to let passengers off until there were only four of us left. There was another couple from Germany. The van stopped in a small desolate looking town in the middle of nowhere. The couple looked at each other with some concern. The driver told them that this was their stop. After some discussion, the couple got out of the van and stood by the side of the road looking around in genuine bewilderment.
"I'm glad this wasn't our stop," Blanche said.
I agreed.
We were the only passengers left in the van. Suddenly we found ourselves going up a steep dirt road at full speed. The driver was really hitting the gas at this point. The car swerved left then right, sliding sideways on the sandy road, and this crazy driver just going up and up, around thick jungle, higher and higher, rumbling and shaking, leaving civilization behind us in a cloud of dust.
Blanche held my hand.
Finally, we arrived, and all of us felt a sense of relief. I congratulated the driver and his assistant for their skills and gave them a generous tip- not so much for bringing us to our destination but also for keeping us alive while doing so.
"That was an insane ride!" said Blanche.
"No kidding."
We looked around us perplexed. Where in the world were we? And what were we doing here?
The Arenal volcano is an adesitic stratovolcano (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arenal_Volcano) and it is still active. The last major eruption was in 1968 when it suddenly blew its top and caused a lot of damage in the surrounding area. It has been spewing and rumbling since then. While the idea of being next to an active volcano smacked of adventure back home, now that I was right beside it, I could not help but feel apprehensive about it, knowing that without warning, it could go off at any moment.
"Do you have internet?" I said to the hotel clerk.
He laughed. "Maybe in a thousand years."
Fair enough.
As it was already getting late, we decided to have dinner, and it just so happened that the restaurant had a nice view of the fiery Arenal volcano, which was shrouded in clouds and vapors of its own making. The volcano at the time was erupting every day, and I thought I could hear its rumblings. Looking at it, I was in awe. What a mighty force of nature! Perhaps this wasn't the end of the world after all but the beginning.
