Okay, back to where we were in Costa Rica. We’re inching closer to the end of my solo travel adventures. I sift through my journal as I’m writing this post and I can still read how happy I am and how much I’m dreading getting back to the familiar.
Odd right?
Who knew I’d grow to love something that felt so intially scary.
So this stretch of the trip is away from the beaches is the part where it’s a little bit more “into the wilderness.”
Also: Who knew Crystal would be up for THIS type of adventure. My friends wouldn’t believe this.
When I’m out of my element and spaces I know, I suddenly am more open to trying new things. Take me camping while I was living in New England? No. Hard Pass.
Camping (ish) while in Costa Rica? Yes. I’ll take a new experience. Whatever. Carpe Diem. Allons y. Bring it on.
My advice right off the bat?
Bring bug spray where you’re traveling, especially if in a warmer, tropical or jungle environment. I know talking about bug spray is probably all kinds of political problematic, but really, when I get mauled by mosquitoes my allergic reactions are really bad. Notable as well: buying bug spray in other countries is difficult to find, and expensive.
Also: bring allergy medication. Pack Benadryl in case there’s a bad reaction abroad, and Zertec (my go-to) so you can have longer allergy coverage, without drowsiness. Zertec also works to calm down inflammation after an allergic reaction, so it’s never too late.
I drive to “Hotel Flying Crocodile.”
Tonight because an extreme game of “glamping.”
For those who don’t know this hip term, it means glamorous camping. And I do not like camping, so this makes for an interesting night.
Hotel Flying Crocodile (aka Luxurious Glamping) is still in the Guanacaste Province of Costa Rica, but it’s WAY down the coast of Costa Rica, heading south and away from the beaches. Bummer.
It takes me a little over 3 hours to drive from hotel to hotel, from beach back into nature and the sound of howling monkeys. I’ll get to those monkeys in a second.
Here’s a map of my drive:
When I think back on this trip, I’m impressed with the mileage I put in every day. Other than the 3 restful nights earlier in the beach town, the remainder of my 9-day trip includes 2- to 4-hours of driving.
For this, I recommend downloading Spotify, buying the subscription for your travels to listen to songs off-line, and without commercials. Also, download some good audio books and also podcasts to listen to on the drive.
But my Jeep-Jeep, as I affectionately called it on my trip, and I did some good bonding. And it was a rusty, old faithful.
I actually love driving because it gives me time to think.
The podcasts and audio books are good and insightful, the scenery is beautiful, and sometimes, yeah, the music is bumping.
Driving alone is my own benchmark for solo travel.
It’s generally safe in a car (heed road signs) and I’m sitting with my private thoughts — no one is really looking at me and other than a few interruptions from Waze — the GPS app — letting me know where to turn. I’m largely figuring out things in my head. Deciding. Making plans. Thinking about change.
Some people don’t like to sit with their own thoughts. And to be honest, for the first 30-45 minutes can be uncomfortable. That’s simply because being alone feels like long-form meditation in the beginning. It gets easier, or at least more comfortable, for longer periods of time the more you experience it.
But the quiet is worth it when the realizations, breakthroughs, and epiphanies come. It’s magic.
I notice more details when I’ve driving alone. Because, I catch these dark howler monkeys on the side of the road.
It’s a complicated route getting to the hotel grounds because it’s deeper into the wooded areas. I mean, there are monkeys.
Finally after some excellent twists and turns in the road, I pull into Hotel Flying Crocodile.
Each lodge is pretty special.
Each room is its own cabin, sort of like where I stayed in the volcano area on Day 2. Except, each lodge is custom-built, so I walk around checking out the intricate architecture of each one. They’re colorful, and it’s a unique experience.
I ask the hotel owner where the best food is when checking in. A good routine and an even better habit to have.
He tells me there’s a family-owned restaurant across a few wooden bridges, but easily found, and I should go there. I take his advice.
I have an incredible meal, and they charge me $5. I leave extra money for good measure.
Pro tip? Do that as much as you can. A few dollars here and there makes a big difference to local economies, and especially to families who are working to run their own business. That’s a whole different conversation. But just trust me on this.
I get back to the hotel grounds after my incredible meal, and chat with the hotel owner some more. He draws me another map to go into a nearby town he thinks I would like. I kid you not, this map he draws, leads me to drive THROUGH A RIVER.
A RIVER.
But I’m ready for ice cream and want to take a short walk after dinner. I drive to this river and debate on whether I should just take the long route, and add another 25 minutes. I don’t. Of course I don’t.
Instead, I held my breath. My heart’s racing, as I think about all the TV reports I’ve done about “Turn Around Don’t Drown,” which by the way, means even 4 to 6-inche of water could quickly grab your car.
But the river water doesn’t look too deep. It’s rocky; it’s not a strong current, so I go anyways.
In Hawai’i, my students taught me this phrase, “Eddie Would Go.” The phrase came from Eddie Aikau, surf legend, who courageously braved any and all ocean waves. The saying since evolved to mean, be brave, because “Eddie Would Go.”
So. Here we are. Crystal Would Go.
I exhale when I make it across the river; I look back in all my triumph and glory, and see another couple in a jeep giving that same look of hesitation in their eyes as they size up the river. I wave my hands out of my door, giving them thumbs up.
They follow me.
Company from another car oddly feels kind of nice. It’s like forging ahead, and giving someone a nod to someone behind you, that it’s going to be alright. Connecting with others, at its finest.
Once I get to the town, I walk around, find a colorful ice cream shop run by some kids. Must be a family business, and I think it’s sweet (punny), so I take some photos, eat, and sit for a moment.
This part is about to be pathetic, so bare with me.
I realize it’s the night where EMMY nominations are announced, so I turn on my phone and refresh and reload the page until the nominations are posted. I REALLY liked the report I submitted for the EMMYs this past year (watch here), so when my name doesn’t show up… I pathetically sulk.
I send some even more pathetic text messages saying how sad I am. Except… am I really sad? Because I’m eating fresh ice cream in Costa Rica as the sun sets and as the town comes more alive.
And I think about how silly I am to feel ungrateful.
Another pro-tip: waiting on good or bad news? Do it in a foreign country where your consolation prize is the adventure that continues.
I walk around checking out some local crafts, buy a few bracelets for friends at home; I head back to the cabin, wash up, journal, and sleep.
It’s a good day. Even if for a moment, I forgot.
The adventure continues,
