At some point I should become all blase about volcanoes and volcanic activity since I’ve been fortunate to see so many, but not yet.
This morning we left Monteverde. A van collected us, collected three other people (I’m afraid my luggage and the Gentleman Friend’s was very bulky indeed) and took us off through some of the most beautiful green hills, like rippled velvet in the sunlight. In one place we passed a windfarm which is always a magnificent sight, and we passed closer than I’ve ever been to the windmills and could admire the beautifully engineered curves of their blades. In the distance the driver pointed out the volcano, but it was wreathed in cloud.
We arrived at the lake and moved out luggage to a boat. It was a passenger boat, seating about 50, but there were less than a dozen people on it, and it was so quiet and beautiful it was not too bad. The lake was very still and surrounded by the green hills, which changed from grassy pastures to tropical jungle as we glided closer to the far end, at the base of the volcano. Then, alighting, we moved to a new van which took us to La Fortuna and dropped us off.
La Fortuna is one of those towns built along a highway, so it’s a long ribbon of a place. It’s also a tourist town, so everything seems geared towards that: there are multiple sloth walks, hot pools, jungle walks, coffee tours, etc as well as the usual tat shops and of course a rainforest cafe – I’ve never been to a town of this sort which lacked a rainforest cafe. We arrived at our Airbnb early so the owner was still cleaning; we left our bags and went off into town for lunch. It was a tipical lunch and, like all Costa Rican food thus far, not particularly interesting. I do miss the complexity of flavours one finds in Asia, and it’s one of the main reasons I might not want to be here for too long. I wonder what it is, that long arc of delicious food from Japan, through China and SE Asia, India, Pakistan, Iran, Ethiopia and the Levant, all the way to Italy (and arguably France, though I think French food is largely overrated). Then, in the Americas, Mexico and perhaps Peru. I wonder what refined imperial Mayan or Nahuatl food, or Inca food, would have been like, though; I imagine that most of the food one finds from such hierarchical settled civilisations is the peasant fare. Maybe the moles are imperial cuisine.
Then a quick stop at a chocolate shop for a brownie and some quite nice coffee, and back to the Airbnb.
It’s a very small house, basically a studio, and rather miserable and, unfortunately, with a smell of piss that I think is because the toilet and bathroom (separate) don’t really have proper doors, plus it’s the rainy season — the place itself is scrupulously clean. Bad lighting, of course, that seems inevitable, and ugly decor. But it’s the smell that is what makes it difficult for me. Anyhow, I did some laundry which I don’t expect will dry very quickly in the humidity (I never use a dryer), and on the GF’s insistence we went to some of the hot springs that emerged after the last volcanic eruption. These were rather expensive and I would never go of my own volition, though I always enjoy them and they are, when well mineralised, very good for my eczema.
Anyhow, these were exceptionally nice hot springs – not the very hottest (the ones in New Zealand were far hotter) nor too mineralised (again, in NZ the sulphur was strong), but beautifully designed and not too crowded. The hot springs were diverted into small pools that gave a measure of privacy and then flowed into larger slightly cooler pools that again had little nooks so one could feel alone. I’m afraid in some of the private pools the signs warning against excessive affection were being ignored. One of my favourite things was that, in the hottest pools, there was a spot with a light spray of cool water, which was very welcome indeed, as my tolerance is not very high for these things. A pleasant way to spend an evening.