Nomadic Narrative

Turrialba, Costa Rica seems to have it all ― Pre-Columbian ruins offering sweeping views of the coffee-lined valley, the raging Rio Reventazón which draws white-water rafting enthusiasts from around the world and the sulfur-belching Volcán Turrialba. When the sun sets, you’d think you’d be exchanging tales of adventure with new friends both local and foreign. This might be the case if the city of Turrialba had more than just a smattering of so-so hotels. Right now, tours fly in from San José to enjoy the area’s riches, and fly out in time for dinner elsewhere.

If you don’t mind roughing it a bit in terms of accommodation, Turrialba more than makes up for it with just honest-to-goodness hospitality, a handful of decent sodas, or mom-and-pop eateries in English, and a lively town life, both by day and night. It’s scenic and reminiscent of days gone by ― the perfect place to put on a good pair of walking shoes and explore.

I arrived in Turrialba at 11:00 a.m., just in time to take the 11:15 a.m. bus to Guayabo, the largest and most important archeological site in Costa Rica. (Guayabo is open to visitors from 8:00 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. and the 11:15 a.m. bus ― the first one of the morning ― is the only option if you want to arrive before closing.)

I spent just over an hour following the manicured trails around the ruins and relaxing at the lookout. The bus back to Turrialba doesn’t leave until 4:30 p.m. which gave me plenty of time to have lunch at a nearby soda. With just one woman busy in the kitchen, the grandmother of the one large family in the restaurant jumped up and started getting drinks for the customers. “I’m serving them, so I might as well serve you, too!” she said.

Orders for food were just called out to the cook, though grandma helped get things started. “What do you want with your fish?” she asked. I asked what the choices were and she said rice. “Yes, rice please,” I said. “There’s picadillo, too,” she said. “Yes, picadillo,” I answered. “Beans, too,” she said. “Yes, beans also,” I answered. “TODO!” she shouted to the cook. Even though I was with a group of strangers, I immediately felt like I was among friends.

It is 4 kilometers from the Monumento Nacional Arqueológico Guayabo to the main road winding along dirt and pot-holed roads. After lunch, I started walking. It was warm and mostly sunny. A soft breeze made the first part of the walk, where you can’t take refuge under trees, bearable. I passed farmers herding cattle, mountain bikers and locals sauntering from the local mini-market carrying small plastic bags and boxes of juice.

A few kilometers later, the road opened to the valley below. The patchwork of greens reminded me of the area’s fertile lands.

I stopped every once in a while to marvel at towering Espino Blanco (White Thorn) trees, which are slowly disappearing as people seek them out for their hard wood.

I got to the bottom of the hill with more than a half-hour to spare. I took refuge from the sun and the impending rain under a covered bus stop with a wooden bench at the fork in the road. The bus arrived on time. I jumped on and rode back up the hill, and then back to Turrialba where young and old filled the streets and the main plaza. And this was just the beginning…