Nomadic Narrative

Whenever I travel to a new destination in Costa Rica, I often think I’m going to land in a place more developed ― and the surprise is always welcome. On the other hand, I often think getting there is going to be easy ― and the surprise is, well, filed under what I call building character.

After deciding last minute to explore one of the country’s endless beach communities, I headed to San José’s Coca Cola bus station following the published schedule. I arrived at 7:00 a.m., giving myself a just-in-case half hour cushion. Go figure, taped to the wall of the station was a large, hand-written sign announcing that the buses to Montezuma were leaving at 6:00 a.m.

Figuring I could jump on a bus to Puntarenas and arrive in time to catch the ferry toward Montezuma, I popped into Jacó Transportes, even though I swore I’d never visit that agency again after getting my bag stolen on one of their buses. (Read about that wild goose chase here!) The young man at the ticket window told me that I could take the bus to Herradura, just before Jacó, and grab a quick taxi to the beach where his uncle ran a speedboat shuttle service to Montezuma. Score!

I arrived in Herradura a quick two hours later riding shotgun in seat number 2 ― the best seat if you want to pass your windy and bumpy bus rides in Costa Rica on the edge, literally, of your seat. Taxis were waiting as promised, and they charged mil colones for the ride, also as promised. The trip was getting easier by the minute.

We arrived to Herradura beach in about five minutes. As we turned down the dirt road lining the sand, a man stuck his head in the window to ask if I was here to take a lancha, a speedboat to Montezuma. “Wait over by the bus stop,” he said as he turned away.

I had thirty minutes to kill before the boat left, so I wandered into one of the few rustic, open-air restaurants lining the beach for a bottle of Gatorade. It was 10:30 a.m. on a Sunday and the beach was already covered in kids and coolers. Until I turned my gaze to toward the northern tip of the horseshoe bay, I never would have guessed that I was in the midst of one of the most famous mega-resort hotels in Costa Rica ― Los Sueños.

The uncle arrived with seven other travelers and introduced us to our captain. The captain took our bags and wrapped them in black plastic garbage bags before loading them on the boat. “Are we going to fit in there?” asked an Irish woman rhetorically.

Alas, all eight of us plus two captains fit comfortably in the boat. The seemingly small vessel packed one serious engine. An hour and a few dolphin spottings later, we arrived to a slice of the jungle for what I thought was perhaps to drop off a passenger at a remote hotel.

Lo and behold, we had arrived at the beach right in front of the small and sleepy, yet funky, town of Montezuma, which I come to find out, sits tucked discretely behind the slivers of beach and tamarind trees.