What's the Most Fun You Can Have in a Car?

There is a saying that a well-loved child has many names. The same can be said about one of America’s best loved highways, State Route 1 in California, aka Highway 1 or Pacific Coast Highway or, as locals call it, the PCH. No matter what it is called, this 655 mile stretch of tarmac, which starts south of Los Angeles in Orange County and ends north of San Francisco in Mendocino County, is the most beautiful, dramatic and inspiring coastline in the United States. That’s a bold statement but I doubt anyone who has driven this road will argue.

Eloise and I spent 4 days travelling north on the PCH from LA to San Francisco. We drove a total of 577 miles in a red Chevy Impala, a most uncool car which was perfect for our Thelma and Louise purposes. Eloise insisted, against all my cheap instincts, that we add a GPS system to our rental agreement and never has a gadget that I knew nothing about, and trusted less, proved more useful. Our new talking companion ended up being the third girl in the car – “turn right, turn left, turn around now”. She and Eloise got along like houses on fire, she always knew where she was going and never complained when she was ignored.

Day 1 – John Wayne Airport, Orange County to Santa Barbara

Driving through LA was not fun. I suppose it is instructive to spend several hours stuck on freeways contemplating America’s dependence on cars/oil/Saudi Arabia/China. Eloise, being a London girl, was experienced in the art of zoning out in traffic and chose to play a computer game in the back seat about simulated people in a simulated suburb. At first, I thought, this was ridiculous. We’ve come all this way. She should stop playing Sims and look at LA. Then I thought about how ridiculous it would be to say “Stop staring at that screen and admire the view across 12 lanes of stopped traffic.” After that thought, I left her alone.

Once we reached Santa Monica with its wide sandy beach and beautiful bluffs, all was forgotten. The open road beckoned and neither of us was in the mood to stop. I did consider pulling into the Getty Villa off the PCH in Malibu where a reconstruction of a patrician Roman villa houses the Getty antiquities collection. Normally, you need to purchase a timed ticket in advance but this was mid-week in March and who knows, maybe we’d get lucky.

We didn’t stop, however, given the risk that we wouldn’t get in plus I did not want to spoil our newly established road camaraderie with a contentious discussion about going to museums. Instead, we went to Zuma Beach in Malibu. Long, wide and sandy, this is the California beach of every visitor’s imagination. There is tons of parking, either free off the PCH or $7 in the gigantic lots and plenty of amenities including swings, volleyball courts, rest rooms, showers and food vendors. Zuma is supposed to be busy on the weekends but on a Tuesday in March, it was deserted. We had a fine time admiring this empty mega-beach, finishing with an undistinguished lunch at Spruzzo’s, located directly across the PCH from the beach entrance. The view of the Pacific from the outdoor terrace on top of an unattractive strip mall almost justifies the mediocre food.

Back in the car, Eloise loaded the Presidio Motel in Santa Barbara into the Garmon Girl and we were off. We picked Santa Barbara for our first night for several reasons. It is blessed with everything. Only an hour’s drive from LA., Santa Barbara has near perfect weather, gorgeous beaches and an interesting history. It is also known for being opulent and expensive but just about every travel writer in the business has recently selected Santa Barbara as the counter-intuitive subject for a budget travel article. As I write this post, the New York Times just published one. The LA Times wrote essentially the same piece in January.

We had picked Presidio based on good reviews in both an LA Times article and The Lonely Planet which described it as a good value, trendy little motel. Hey, I thought, what could be hipper than a red Chevy Impala, a precocious ten year old and a more than middle aged mamma. We’ll stay there. It was a good choice. At $112 for the night, Presidio had clean, comfortable and stylish (as in cool Ikea) rooms. The location, at the northern end of State Street, is good, the proprietors are groovy, and wifi, bicycles and breakfast are included in the rate.

After a stroll around the chic Spanish style town, we stopped at Carlito’s Café Y Cantina for dinner, a restaurant recommended by the Presidio for offering good food, a relaxed atmosphere and a fair price. For serious foodies, Carlitos is nothing special but we were happy with our choice. We ate on the patio outside, which for Londoners in March is blissful. Our waiter was ultra charming to Eloise (she came home with dozens of little Mexican flags when she only asked for one), I had an impressive Halibut ceviche and the bill, with wine, came to a reasonable $42. Relaxed and contented we strolled back to Presidio for an early night.

Useful Addresses

Zuma Beach
30000 Pacific Coast Highway
Malibu
Call 310-457 2525 for more information

Spruzzo’s
29575 Pacific Coast Highway
Tel: 310 457 8282

Presidio Motel
1620 State Street
Santa Barbara
Tel: 805 963 1355
http://www.thepresidiomotel.com/

Carlitos Café and Cantina
1324 State Street
Santa Barbara
Tel:805 962 7117
http://www.carlitos.com/


Photo courtesy of Jeff Mason

North by No Crowds: Adventures off California's Highways

Road Trip. In America, those are magic words. The open road is the American Dream. You can go where you want, when you want, how you want. It’s up to you. You make it happen. To experience America, take a road trip. For the ultimate road trip, make it Highway 1. Here’s what we had to say about this fabled road in 2008:

“There is a saying that a well-loved child has many names. The same can be said about one of America’s best loved highways, State Route 1 in California, aka Highway 1 or Pacific Coast Highway or, as locals call it, the PCH. No matter what it is called, this 655 mile stretch of tarmac, which starts south of Los Angeles in Orange County and ends north of San Francisco in Mendocino County, is the most beautiful, dramatic and inspiring coastline in the United States. That’s a bold statement but I doubt anyone who has driven this road will argue.”

Having already done the LA to San Francisco stretch of the PCH, we were eager to tackle the road north of San Francisco all the way to the Redwood State and National Parks. It’s an area known for spectacular scenery, good food, offbeat residents and no crowds. That sounded pretty good to us, a travelling trio consisting of my husband, our 12-year old-daughter and me.

We had rented a cheap little car (save where you can) but Hertz saw fit to give us a grand luxury coupe. Thanks. This Super Cruiser was way too cool for us. It took 30 minutes and both of us reading the manual just to get it started, but, having gotten over that hurdle, it was smooth sailing – and super fun driving.

We had been warned that some stretches of the PCH north of San Francisco could be both tedious and treacherous so we modified our original idea of a stately drive north. Instead, we raced north on Highway 101 for 5 ½ hours to Trinidad, just south of the Redwood National Park and then spent 5 leisurely days meandering back south. We travelled along the Avenue of the Giants – a 32-mile, 2 lane road under the canopy of the Redwoods, the PCH from Leggett to Albion and then Route 128 through Sonoma wine country to Healdsburg and back on 101 to San Francisco.

The Redwood Coast

Much has been said about the experience of standing under trees that soar 300 feet in the sky that predate the Roman Empire. Muir Woods, an old-growth coastal redwood forest 12 miles outside San Francisco is what most people get to see. It’s a wonderful place but you have to fight for a parking space and share the grandeur with busloads of tourists.

In the Redwood National and State Parks, on the other hand, you can see these wonders of nature in complete solitude. We hiked for hours without seeing anyone. Of the parks in the area, our favorite is Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park that has lots of well-marked trails, a visitor’s center, Fern Canyon and Gold Bluff Beach. We also spent a glorious afternoon at nearby Patrick’s Point State Park hiking, climbing rock formations and searching for stones on Agate Beach. The only folks we saw all afternoon were some local surfers. Pure No Crowds bliss.

To stay near the redwoods, we recommend the Lost Whale Inn in Trinidad. The setting is secluded, the views spectacular. Rooms are large and nicely appointed. The breakfast and complimentary afternoon refreshments are generous and delicious. The innkeepers were welcoming and there is something to be said about waking up each morning to the sound of barking sea lions. We were disappointed that the steps down to the inn’s private beach were closed because of damage from winter storms. The innkeepers say they are working hard to get them repaired.

Heading south from Trinidad, we spent an interesting evening in Arcata, long considered Northern California’s (and therefore America’s) most progressive town. It’s part college town, part Cheech and Chong installation and here’s a factoid I just love about the place. Back in 2003, Arcata’s City Council voted to outlaw compliance with the US Patriot Act. Way to go Arcata! If you like Japanese food, Tomo, located in the Arcata Hotel on the plaza serves very good sushi.

We also spent a pleasant afternoon wandering around Ferndale, a wonderfully preserved Victorian village. There are lots of charming houses and some fun galleries and shops. We loved visiting the Blacksmith Shop and Gallery, established in 1979 by Joe Koches, whose goal is to offer the public “the finest collection of master blacksmithing in the U.S.” It’s not stuff that easily fits in your carry on but the shop is happy to ship and the items are beautiful.

The Mendocino Coast

After an impressive drive through the redwoods on the Avenue of the Giants and a spectacular stretch of the PCH, we arrived in Mendocino. The place reminded us of the island of Nantucket in Massachusetts and no wonder, transported New Englanders built it. Filled with saltbox cottages and rose covered picket fences, the town exudes picturesque charm but like Nantucket, is a victim of its own success with high prices and too many shops hawking t-shirts. But with that said, we loved the atmosphere and particularly loved rambling along the dramatic 2-mile stretch of sea cliffs that surround the town.

In Mendocino, we stayed at the Alegria Inn that has an ideal, quiet location overlooking the ocean with private beach access. Because we were travelling with Eloise, we stayed in one of their cottages that had a fold out futon. It also had a wood burning stove, a well-equipped kitchen, a funky Japanese tub and a double bed in a loft. I have to say that I wasn’t crazy about the loft (too old) but everything else, including the helpful innkeepers and excellent breakfast were first class. We also had a very good dinner at the highly rated Café Beaujolais and a tasty lunch at the Moosse Café.

The Sonoma Wine Country

Travelling through wine country with a 12 year old poses a dilemma. As Eloise was neither old enough to drink the wine nor act as the designated driver, we felt it necessary to temper our alcoholic aspirations. Still, it would have been a shame to be so close and not take the opportunity to dip into the world famous California wine scene. Plus, we had heard from lots of savvy travelers that Sonoma was a much more No Crowds appropriate experience compared to Napa – less chi chi and more relaxed.

We ended up heading for Healdsburg, an attractive town that sits at the center of three wine producing valleys. With over 160 wineries within easy striking distance, and a restaurant scene that is starting to give Napa Valley’s Yountsville a run for its money, we thought Healdsburg could provide something interesting for us and something fun for Eloise.

Don’t tell our dentist but the big experience for Eloise took the form of a candy shop unlike any other – except perhaps Willie Wonka’s. Powell’s Sweet Shoppe, on the square in Healdsburg, sells thousands of different kinds of candy. They have candy in there I haven’t seen since I was Eloise’s age. The shop is big fun for any child and an interesting piece of nostalgia for any American parent.

After treating Eloise to a bag of sweets to take back to school we treated ourselves to a visit to the rather glam Ferrari Carano winery, famous as much for its elaborate gardens and villa as for its wines. If the Ewing family from the 80s TV show Dallas had a winery, it would look like Ferrari Carano. Needless to say we had lots of fun.

And then sadly, it was time to head back to San Francisco. Driving over the Golden Gate Bridge, I thought about all our inspiring experiences: the magnificent redwoods, the pristine coastline, the sometimes eccentric residents and almost always excellent food and as I had in 2008, I thought how unattractive it was to be envious of your own child. But in the case of my northern Cal son, again, I just couldn’t help myself. This place is too perfect. Come see for yourself.

Photo Credit: Eloise Hedges

Orange County - Don't Knock It Till You Tried It

Our original plan did not include spending lots of time in Orange County. I confess, I had a bad attitude about the O.C. which was conditioned by the television show of the same name, an aversion to Disney and the county’s reputation for ultra-conservative politics. I was not convinced there was a good time to be had in a cultural wasteland best known for rich kids behaving badly, Mickey Mouse mind control and Bush-loving fundamentalists so when our soon-to-be-in-demand screenwriter got a job in Miami and our non-refundable tickets to LA remained non-refundable, we emailed the travel Yente of Southern Cal (known to frequent readers of this blog as Sandy of Soul City fame) laying our problem of the missing son/brother squarely in his lap.

Here is his response.

“I'll be on hand to meet your BA flight on the 20th. I'll spirit you away from the angry angst and vivid colors of Los Angeles, to the beatific mauves and washed-out blues of Orange County, located exactly 45 miles--straight-shot-- south of LAX. For the next 24-36 hours, we'll focus on entirely trivial pursuits, which would be the most suitable way to begin your California adventure.”

With such a splendid invitation on offer, we accepted immediately. And this is what we found.

Regardless of your take on the California culture wars, you can have big fun in Orange County. With sun, sea breezes and mild temperatures, the climate is near perfect. The beaches range from huge and sandy to intimate and craggy and to the OC’s considerable credit, a lot of effort has gone into making the 42 miles of coastline accessible to the public. There are extensive hiking, biking and riding trails many stretching from the mountains to the sea, some of the largest ultra-luxe shopping malls in the country and there is even an alternative amusement park, Knotts Berry Farm, that is smaller and cheaper than Disney. If southern Cal is all about flip flops, a beach towel and a set of wheels, then Orange County is a smart place to go to get this experience.

Retail Religion

Following the travel Yente’s advice that we stick to trivial pursuits, the first thing we did on our first day in southern California was to go shopping. Not just any shopping, mind you, we went to South Coast Plaza, the mega mall of Orange County which claims to be the only true competition to Rodeo Drive and the most visited mall in America. The place has gobsmacking metrics with 3 million square feet of enclosed space spread over a 128 acre site with 300 shops including Hermes, Pucci, and Bulgari plus nine anchor department stores. After Disneyland, it is Orange County’s most visited attraction.

The website http://www.seeing-stars.com/, in addition to telling you which celebrities shop at South Coast, reports that some tour groups from Japan plan their entire vacations around the place. We’re not suggesting you go that far, but if you are looking for a California shopping experience straight out of “Pretty Woman”, South Coast Plaza has got it.

A Picturesque Village with an Artistic Past

After worshipping at the alter of ueber-consumption, we headed next for the seaside community of Laguna Beach. With a Mediterranean look and feel, an artistic vibe and an authentic bohemian past, this is a town where Europeans, liberals and East Coast refugees would feel right at home. Any place that could attract former residents such as John Steinbeck (he wrote Tortilla Flats in Laguna), Timothy Leary (Turn on, tune in, drop out), and Tennessee Williams, can’t be all bad.

With the average Laguna house now costing over one million dollars, there are few artists left but there are a number of art galleries and festivals, lots of quirky and interesting shops, restaurants and bars and seven miles of coast with 30 public beaches and coves. In a part of the world filled with planned communities and McMansions, this town feels much more authentic and interesting. That’s the good news. The bad news is that this gorgeous small village attracts three million visitors a year with the usual traffic and parking problems. We were there in late March and things were already getting a bit frantic and clogged up. If you are staying at a hotel near the village, it looked like a good idea to leave your car there and ride the local bus.

For our visit, we solved the parking problem by eating lunch at outdoor restaurant, The Cliff, which hangs spectacularly over the Pacific Ocean and has a convenient valet parking service. The food, mostly salads, sandwiches was nothing special but the combination of breathtaking views, good service and parking made this place a winner in our book. Lunch for three set us back $60.

An Inspiring Conservation Story

Just north of Laguna Beach off the PCH you will find the Crystal Cove Historic District, part of the 2,791 acre Crystal Cove State Park, and of all the things we saw in Southern California, this was the most inspiring. This enclave of rustic coastal cottages, built in the 20s and 30s has been saved by a fabulous piece of conservation work by residents and environmentalists after the State declared its intention to demolish the cottages and built an upscale resort on the land which sits directly on a beautiful stretch of pristine beach.

The efforts of local activists resulted in the creation of a 12.3 acre Historic District containing the 46 vintage coastal cottages, including the house used in the Bette Midler film, Beaches, pictured above. Twenty-two of the forty-six cottages have been lovingly restored with period décor and 13 of these cottages are available for rent starting at $30 a night for a room in a shared cottage to $175 a night for the most expensive cottage which sleeps 4. At four o’clock every afternoon the martini flag is raised and any one lucky enough to have secured one of the cottages will experience the charm of California beach life as it was lived in a more laid back era.

Securing a rental requires skill, organisation and luck. According to the Lonely Planet guide to Coastal California, here’s how to go about it:

1) Start planning more than 6 months ahead of your intended visit
2) Check out the cottages on http://www.crystalcovebeachcottages.com/
3) Set up an on-line account with the reservation agent, Reserve America at http://www.reserveamerica.com/ (800-444-7275)
4) Reserve exactly 6 months before your intended stay (for example, for a booking anytime in July go online and/or call at 8:00 AM sharp on March 1)
5) If unsuccessful, keep checking back for cancellations.

A Great Little Beach

As we were short on time and given my dislike of crowds, Sandy suggested that we visit Little Corona del Mar for our afternoon at the beach. Unlike “Big” Corona, with all the classic California beach amenities such as volleyball, lifeguards, food and outdoor showers, that always attracts the crowds, Little Corona is small, secluded and relatively uncrowded. The swimming is good and exploring the tide pools is a diverting activity for children. There is plenty of free on the street parking near the entrance to the beach and it is interesting to walk around this attractive seaside neighbourhood. The entrance to Little Corona can be found at the corner of Poppy Avenue and Ocean Boulevard.

A Norman Rockwell Town with a “Happy Days” Diner

Driving around Old Town Orange, you get the feeling that you’ve been there before. In a way, you have. Given the city’s proximity to LA’s film industry, more than 116 film and television programs including Tom Hank’s “That Thing You Do”, “Small Soldiers”, “American Wedding” and “Big Momma’s House” have all had scenes shot in Orange, according to the Internet Movie Data Base.

Driving around this historic neighbourhood with its old fashioned store fronts, homes and cars is an unexpected Southern California experience, but the real reason to visit Orange is to make a trip to the drugstore and diner called Watson’s which has been in business since 1899 and serves up authentic diner food and 1950s atmosphere in equal measure. With a full service soda fountain equipped with a real soda “jerk” (the guy who makes the sodas) Watson’s is understandably famous for their malts and milkshakes. The natives like to dip their French fries into their shakes, Service is fast and friendly and prices are reasonable.

Don’t Knock It Till You’ve Tried It

As our Orange County time drew to a close, it became clear that the soon-to-be-in-demand screenwriter had actually done us a favour. Without his absence, we might have dismissed the OC out of hand (lacking in soul, too many McMansions) and headed quickly north. Instead, we had the chance to enjoy some wonderful public resources, such as the beaches with excellent amenities as well as the hiking and biking trails. Eloise got to spend the day at Knotts Berry Farm, an American amusement park that once upon a time was a real berry farm and chicken restaurant. “You would not have liked it, Mom. It was pretty crowded. I had a fantastic time.”

By hanging out at South Coast Plaza shopping mall, we got a taste of the television version of the OC and by attending one of the mega-churches on Easter morning, we received a master class in the evangelism that informs so much of modern American life and politics. Power point prayer, valet parking and a cast of thousands deliver a religious experience that is pure California.

Sandy was right. Beginning our California adventure in Orange County was an inspired idea. We had a fabulous time and as Sandy’s daughter said after dunking her French fries into her milk shake – Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.

South Coast Plaza
3333 Bristol Street
Costa Mesa, CA 92626
Tel: 800 728 8888
Mon – Fri 10am to 9pm
Sat – 10am to 8pm
Sund 11am to 6:30pm

The Cliff Restaurant
577 South Coast Highway
Laguna Beach CA 92651
Tel: 949 494 1956

Crystal Cove State Park
8471 North Coast Highway
Laguna Beach, CA 92651
Tel: 949 492 0802

Little Corona Del Mar Beach
Corner of Poppy Avenue and Ocean Boulevard
Tel: 949 644 3151
Open 6am to 10pm

Watson’s Drugstore and Diner
116 E. Chapman
Orange, CA 92866
Tel: 714 633 1050

Eloise in the Land of the Lotus

It is a truth universally acknowledged that girls grow up and stop enjoying road trips with their mothers. Thank God for California which has saved us, if only temporarily, from this sad but inevitable day. Everything - the sun, the beaches, the friendly people and unfriendly cars - all conspired to make this “at risk” couple the happiest of travel companions.

Like most visitors to California, we focussed on the coast, starting south of Los Angeles and slowly making our way along the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) to San Francisco. To reduce the length of this post, over the next few days, we will divide the California story into three sections: Orange County, the PCH and the San Francisco Bay area. But first, a word about LAX.

Entering the United States through Los Angeles Airport (LAX) is a bad beginning. No, we were not cavity searched, finger printed or roughed up (with our US passports we were in the line for the chosen people) but we seemed to make it to the luggage carousel at about the same time as all the “aliens” on our flight, so they probably weren’t cavity searched either. Clearing Immigration took about 30 minutes, which I suppose, in today’s world, should be considered acceptable but the LA Times recently published an article about a substantial increase in foreign flights into LAX, so expect waiting times to get a lot worse.

What can’t get much worse is the whole business of retrieving your luggage, and oh the horror of the baggage hall at LAX. Eloise understood immediately that extraordinary measures were necessary, ducking, jiving and improvising like a native.
The British neophytes from BA Flight 283 took longer to get the hang of it. For a long time they just stared in disbelief at the third world chaos but finally, finding their inner Darwin, they launched into the fray, raising the threat level of being taken out by flying luggage to Orange. As one tired traveller remarked, “Can this really be the world’s only superpower?” I will say it now, as a gateway to the United States, LAX is a disgrace. Avoid it if you can. A much better idea is to enter via San Francisco which has a new, beautiful and efficient international terminal.

Despite the bad beginning of LAX, it did not take long to slip indolently into the pursuit of pleasure that is southern California. Before facing the famous rush hour freeways, we spent a pleasant hour in the LA beach town of Santa Monica, checking out the neighbourhood of a soon-to-be in demand and respected screenwriter (Eloise’s brother). We thought Santa Monica looked like a lot of fun. We especially liked the Santa Monica Pier with its old fashioned vibe and funny collection of amusements which include a beautiful vintage carousel. Since the screenwriter brother was out of town, we decided to save further explorations until his return and as the diabolical traffic had eased off, we began to make out way south to Orange County, now known as the OC, home of surfing, shopping and breast implants.

Lessons Learned on Costa Rica's Caribbean Coast

More travel adventures from Penny, our No Crowds reporter last seen in North Africa, this time with her family in Central America.

You may come across a crowd or two in Costa Rica – but it won’t always be a human crowd.  It could, for example, be a crowd of howler monkeys.  Or hummingbirds.  These crowds, I think, are okay.

Manzanillo – the last town along the Caribbean coast before the Gandoca-Manzanillo Wildlife Refuge, a 12 kilometre bicycle ride south along the only road from relaxed surfer town of Puerto Viejo, right on the ocean…perfect.   I booked a house (www.vrbo.com), asked the caretaker to find me a turkey for Christmas, and considered our plan settled.  When a second place, down the road and (as it turned out) over a river from the first came available, we decided to extend our stay and take that one too.  Our farflung family (we are in London, with offspring on the east and west coasts of the States) would be together again in warmth and beauty).

We arrived a couple days before Christmas, after a 6 hour drive from San Jose along some roads that I have to say weren’t in the very best shape. 

CR Lesson No. 1:  Do not, under any circumstances, let anyone(this includes you, Avis Rent A Car) talk you into taking a “brand new” Kia instead of the four wheel drive that you ordered.  But in any case we made it, through the cloud forest and along the Guapiles Highway to Puerto Limon, and then south along the sea.

 

The house, “La Patita” was everything, well nearly everything, we expected – burnished wood, outside living, right in the middle of the jungle.  However, the only place to cook a turkey in the “full” kitchen was the toaster oven.   Oh well, cancel the turkey.  I was going to feel funny eating it in front of the toucans anyway.

 

Morning 1, 5:15 am.  What the hell was THAT?  Okay, I had just started Barbara Kingsolver’s “The Lacuna” (recommended reading for any Latin American adventure, and really, just generally), so I knew that howler monkeys could be scary.  But I thought they howled, like “aawoooh”.  This was more like roaring, and we seemed to have one in the bathroom.  Evidently time to get up.

CR Lesson No 2:  People rise with the sun and go to bed early…for a reason.

As soon as the sun was more or less up we snuck through the grounds of Congo Bongo (www.congo-bongo.com) to the beach.   The houses of Congo-bongo, which are available to rent, looked comfortable and beautiful and the path to the beach is amazing: sloths overhead, every kind of bird and butterfly,  frogs, crabs,  and lovely, flowering vegetation.

The beach runs south to the town and then to just nothing to the north almost as far as you can see.  It’s littered with… driftwood.  Palm trees come down to the shore, and there are no buildings at all, just the occasional path from tourist lodgings or houses.  Talk about no crowds – that morning, it was just us.  And some sandpipers and willets, and a couple of circling blackhawks and a flock of parrots.

CR Lesson No 3 – Can’t imagine more romantic beaches!

Manzanillo village is a  thrown together, one-story beach town that is somehow instantly accessible.     The anchor of the village is Maxi’s, a multi-level restaurant and bar that seems to serve as the communication centre.   Gringo-type tourists tend to sit down upstairs and have a meal (the food is very good).   Ticos tend to have a beer and watch football (that’s soccer to some of you) on the widescreen TV, or queue downstairs for carry out  to be eaten on the beach.

CR Lesson no 4:  Female Costa Ricans are Ticas and male Costa Ricans and mixed crowds are Ticos.  In December, many of the tourists will be Ticos.

 

Because the town is small and tourism a bit tenuous, an informal network of friendly and interesting people were happy to show us their paradise and help us have a good time.  Because many of the residents are descendants of Jamaican immigrants, there are even quite a few who speak English.

Did we want someone to come and cook for us?  Okay, we’ll tell Chena.  Chena and her friend Mommie were waiting for us when we first arrived, cooking incredible freshly caught fish. Delicious.  For Christmas, it was Caribbean lobster.  Unfortunately, I’ve lost Chena’s number, but if you ask for her at Maxi’s, they’ll know how to find her. The songs Chena and Mommie sang as they cooked come back to me even as the colours and smells of Manzanillo fade.

Did we want someone to take us around the refuge?  Omar would stop by. In addition to knowing the terrain from childhood, Omar has trained up on the local wildlife.  He showed us how to look for sloths, and vipers, identified all those bird calls we had been hearing, and is clearly expert on medicinal plants (telephone 506 2759 9143).  I do not often go walking with a man with a machete, and was interested to learn that, unlike a Glock, a machete has many uses.  Omar really knew how to use his, deftly punching a coconut for its juice and then carving it for us and some passing hikers at Manzanillo point. (He also leads kayaking expeditions around the lagoon, which I was sorry to miss, and rents cottages.)

Did we want to go horseback riding?  Michael brought a couple of his own and borrowed another, so that we could ride out on the beach.  (Delicate, responsive horses they were.)

Scuba diving? Semi-bespoke lessons available at the dive centre in Punta Uva, a bit north of Manzanillo  (www.puntauvadivecenter.com.)  Snorkelling?  The best spot is just off the beach near the phone tower, and equipment can be rented in town.

But here begins our tale of woe. Snorkelling and scuba diving require smoothish seas.  They are not very good in the rain, and impossible when there is a lot of turbulence, especially here where the currents can be a bit tricky.  And it rained every day we were there – usually all day.

 

Don’t get me wrong, we’re Londoners.  Rain does not stop us.  We hiked  in the rain, biked in the rain,  rode horses in the rain, canopy toured in the rain (try Terra Aventura or ATEC in Puerto Viejo), tried out the yoga centres in the rain, watched the surfers, who thought the stormy waves were great.  We took in the inaptly named Jaguar Rescue Center (www.jaguarrescue.com), which actually rescues primates and sloths and is well worth the visit, but doesn’t have any jaguars.  We were told repeatedly that it is unusual for it to be so rainy in December. 

CR Lesson No 5:  It can rain a lot in a rainforest.

We ate a lot of good food in the rain, and in beautiful places.  Arrecife Lodge is a lovely little place that serves tempura-style fish and chips on the beach at Punta Uva.  We had a great meal at a four-table Argentine grill, “El Refugio”, and a spectacular one on Christmas Eve at Pecora Nera.  And we enjoyed talking to the proprietors --in this neck of the woods, he or she is likely to be an expat who came on holiday and, understandably, just had to stay. 

True story:  one (rainy) night we drove ourselves into a ditch.  Within 45 seconds, the proprietor of a nearby restaurant runs out – not to worry, he has a four wheel drive and will get us out.  60 seconds later, a white van stops, the passenger jumps out with a strap that he fixed to our bumper.  Within no more than 5 minutes of our having arrived in the ditch, we were back on the road.

CR Lesson No 6:  Pura vida! 

Good meals, rampant nature and pleasant people aside, we were getting a little bored with the wet factor.  We played bridge and bananagrams at our burnished open-air tables with the house dog Congo and his hopeful friend, a rotweiller mix, and listened to the rain.  We watched our resident howler monkeys, hummingbirds and butterflies when the rain stopped.  No mosquitoes (we were told it was too wet for mosquitoes, go figure).  But we wanted sun!

A trip to the internet café was discouraging – no sun for another five days, at least.  In quiet desperation, I wrote to my friend Katharine, who was VRBOing on the Pacific coast.  “What’s the sun situation over there?” Word came back that there was sun in Guanacaste, on the Pacific coast.

 

Surveying the house we had rented just outside the Manzanillo for the second half of our stay: “Paradise Found”, we weren’t so sure we were ready for it.  “Paradise” is situated alongside another VRBO property “Dolphin Lodge” 200 or so meters up the dirt (now mud) road into the reserve, and wasn’t really very …convenient.  The description on VRBO had mentioned a  “creek” at the entrance to the reserve --  but where we come from “creeks” aren’t 3 meters across and shin deep.  It must be gorgeous there on a moonlit night, but when it rains you are essentially trapped in the dark.    We had paid for “Paradise”, but we were going to have to move on.

We had already been immensely lucky – Dan and I got out of Heathrow on one of only four flights that had left on the 19^th.  But we were of one mind – time to press that luck further.  Time to find a place to stay on the west coast during the busiest season of the year, when not only snowbirds from America, but the Ticos all head for sunny Guanacaste.  We had avoided that side, as we had been told it was developed, American, and altogether too much like Florida, complete with gated communities.  So be it.  Sun.  What could be found at the last minute there? 

To be continued.