After a pleasantly smooth flight to mexico city and transfer to San Jose from a crisp and cold autumnal day in the UK, stepping out of the airport to what was meant to be the rainy season in Costa Rica, as with most Brits abroad, the first thing that hit me was the sweltering heat. Since I had no internet, nor did I have more than a few Spanish words in my vocabulary, I had already planned to get a taxi to the port of Punta Arenas straight from the airport. So, once that was sorted, it wasn’t that long until I was out of the sun and in an air conditioned minivan. It was about an hour and a half drive through intermittent beautiful valleys carpeted with jungle, suburban towns and construction sites until we arrived. The port town of Punta Arenas is a long spit that sticks out from the coast line, pointing towards the Nicoya peninsula on the pacific side of Costa Rica. I arrived at the port to catch the ferry to Paquera on the peninsular, where I’d have to take a bus onto Montezuma, my first destination. This unfortunately meant I had to leave the protection of the car again. Having read that Punta Arenas wasn’t all the appealing to the eye, especially in the form of wildlife, I was pleasantly surprised that the area was surrounded by mangrove. I could also see various marine birds, of which, the frigate bird was the only one I could identify, circling around the port. I got a ticket, boarded the ferry and soon enough I was on my way to Nicoya an hour ahead of schedule.
On arrival, the bus to Montezuma was already waiting. I was the last one on the bus and had to stand most of the way, which meant I couldn’t take in any of the views, nor did I know where we were or whether I had to get off. So, I just hoped it would be obvious and waited. Luckily for me, the bus terminated in Montezuma. As I got off I was greeted by an owner of a local soda, soda essentially being a Costa Rican restaurant, who helped me with my bags and pointed me in the right direction to my hostel. The walk was beautiful. The sun was setting and gentle waves of the pacific ocean rolled onto the empty, wild volcanic beaches a few metres to the left of the road, while the thick jungle was immediately to my right. The walk was only 5 or 10 minutes long but my arms were already shining with sweat and my t-shirt had already started to darken. The hostel, which overlooked the sea and its own private rock pool for swimming and various hammocks tucked away on multiple levels of the rock outcrop the hostel sat on, felt like the perfect place to spend my first few days. But I was tired and settled in for the night.

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