San Jose

As a country, Costa Rica gets so much right. With its focus on sustainability and conservation, it set itself to be the 'most sustainable country in Central America' in the 1980s. In shooting for the moon, it landed far further and is considered a bastion of sustainable practices worldwide. By 2050, the country is aiming for complete decarbonisation, something it will likely reach. Pride for this, for the environment, for the myriad national parks and open spaces was evident throughout the country. 

Costa Rica's capital, San Jose, is not the likely representation of any of these policies. As the jumping point for most tours, tourists tend not to spend too much time here. Traffic is prolific, pavements and foot traffic are few and far between and, anecdotally, there seems to be a disproportionate number of pet cremation services in the capital. 

Despite this, I set off with Mini, Tony and Herbie in a little journey to the city centre. The grid pattern of streets wasn't exactly inspiring but some cool sculptures did adorn the pedestrian avenue. Al Viento, near the intersection of Calle 14 and Central Avenue, is an homage to the spirit of Costa Rican women. At nearly three metres tall, she rules the pavement. 

In front of the Banco Central, the Monument to Costa Rican workers stands tall. The bronze statues look both steadfast and imposing, representing the spirit of the people. 

The National Museum of Costa Rica 

Past all the statues, we made our way to the National Museum of Costa Rica, which is a rather impressive facility. At $11 for non-nationals, it's worth the price and gives you access to the museum and gorgeous butterfly garden. 

We started in the latter and though I took many pictures, this lobster claw heliconia happened to be my favourite. We'd see many, many more of these over the course of the two-week trip and they never ceased to impress. 

Inside the museum, pre-Columbian art dominates. Pre-Columbian as it pre-dating Christopher Columbus. A lot of it is indigenous, including this guy below, who holds his distended, worm-filled stomach. They can't all be winners. 

Outside the museum, we were greeted to a pedestrian-avenue of street art which felt pretty vibrant. With few other tourists around, we largely had the area to ourselves. We made it to our lunch stop just in front of the brief torrential thunder and lighting storm; we were the only people in the restaurant for some time. 

The Jade Museum 

As the rain continued, we donned our jackets and made our way to the Jade Museum, a multi-story collection, America's largest, that houses over 100 objects made entirely of jade. I enjoyed this exhibition more than I cared to admit and we took turns finding the freakiest, creepiest statues amongst the various rooms. The two below get my vote. 

Jet lag and museum closing hours ended our tour of San Jose there. I hadn't planned on spending much time in the city alone; given to my own devices I would have sat by the pool dodging the rain. And I wouldn't necessarily say anything on the day's itinerary was essential but I'm glad I got adopted by my new tour friends to see what I did. 

From London to Costa Rica

January is always a long, dark month in London. And so I went to yoga in search of escape. As my yoga teacher, a smiling Mexican man resembling a teddy bear, led us into savasana, I stared up at the mix of sun and clouds through the skylight window. By the end of the 5-minutes, I convinced myself to book a summer solo trip I've been wanting to take for years. 

Group tours are not something I'd really considered in the past. But I got tired of waiting for friends to agree to travel with me and in the post-covid world, I wanted some peace of mind just in case I got sick on my own. Enter Intrepid Travel and their Classic Costa Rica tour. The 15-day trip started and ended in San Jose, the country's not-entirely-exciting capital. 

And so I paid my deposit and booked flights with Air Canada, taking me from London to Toronto to San Jose, landing 24-hours before the tour's orientation. I won't lie in saying that I was nervous: to travel with complete strangers; to share a room with a random; to traverse Central America, a sub-continent I had little exposure of. It transpires that it's the things you don't anticipate that are the real things to be nervous about. 

I'm a seasoned flyer but post-covid airports are a different satanic beast entirely. If I learned anything from the Bologna trip, it was to expect chaos. And so I packed a sandwich, snacks and 5 days' worth of clothing--shorts, a swimsuit, pants--into my carry on luggage. Boarding and takeoff were mundane enough and the first drinks/snacks service was in full flow when I noticed a bit of hubbub near the premium economy toilets, three rows diagonally from me. A flurry of flight attendants made their way to a woman who appeared to have fallen in the toilet with the door half open. Shortly therefore the 'is there a doctor on board?' announcement followed. 

And hence the new very specific medical emergency chaos began. The very inexperienced flight crew funnelled all resources to the woman, whom they eventually managed to lay down and cover in the bulkhead aisle space. Fortunately, medical personnel were on our flight and both a doctor and trauma nurse saw to the elderly patient who continued to pass out every time she sat up. She was not in a good way but did remain largely conscious whilst laying down. At 1.5 hours in, I assumed we'd either turn back or land in Iceland. But neither immediately happened and the flight tracker took us past Iceland, heading towards the coast of Nova Scotia, full steam ahead. At 4 hours in, no food or water passed out to anyone else, the announcement to turn back was finally made. 

This is how we ended up spending 2 hours on the runway at Keflavik. Paramedics boarded the flight and carried off the woman with her husband trailing behind her. Turning on my wifi, I had messages from Air Canada suggesting a delay but offering no tangible solutions. We continued to wait for food, water, announcements regarding connecting flights but none came. In fact, the flight staff got quite surly with anyone who asked even the most polite of questions. 

When we landed in Toronto six hours behind schedule, and two hours after my scheduled departure to San Jose, I was beside myself. But so was over half the flight, who were using Toronto as a base to fly all over North and Central America. And so I ran off the flight into the arms of a very kind gate attendant who escorted the whopping 23 of us flying to San Jose to our gate halfway across the airport. It transpires there's only one Air Canada flight per day flying to Costa Rica and 1/4 of us were missing from it. Flights for the next fortnight were already fully booked and so the airline had no option but to hold the flight. 

This is how I met one of the families on my Tour. Tony, Mini and Herbie queued up behind me as we boarded and we struck up a conversation. I later found out that my roommate, Kim, was also on that flight, and that we were all shitting ourselves wondering how things would pan out.  The connecting flight passed uneventfully and minus having to pay for a meal, my first official one from the airline nearly 16 hours into the journey, we arrived in one piece. Mercifully, so did our luggage. 

We boarded separate transfers to the hotel (Kim, to a different one entirely) and promptly passed out. The next morning at breakfast of my favourite tropical fruit, Tony invited me to spend the day with his family wandering San Jose. 

That evening, all walked and rested, Kim arrived from her hotel cross town. We shared our flight dramas before swapping formalities. She lives in London, is a teacher turned educational psychologist and, because the world is absolutely tiny, has friends in common with me. We got on very well which was fortuitous because, although touted as a 'solo traveler's paradise' every other member of our tour was part of a family group: Neil, Louise and their clan of twin 19-year-old sons; Tony, Mini and 16-year-old Herbie; Charlotte, Phil and their secondary-school aged sons. Our tour guide, Luz, was a tiny, feminist wonder woman. And what transpired was a really lovely two weeks spent in rainy season humidity. 

So my TLDR message: 1. pack that carry on well; 2. take that group tour. It'll be allll good.