Our first foray into the rugged, biodiverse land of Costa Rica was made so much sweeter by the obstacles we had the pleasure of managing: a steep learning curve with the language, a faulty navigation system… a baby. Here’s how we fumbled our way through a vacation that ended up being one of our most transformative, and life-affirming adventures.

Car Rental Mayhem

The essence of perfectly seasoned Gallo Pinto, tiny monkeys, alcohol-filled coconuts, and salt-soaked humidity washed over me as I stepped out of the airport. We had arrived, and survived over twelve hours of cars, faulty airport shuttles, and airplanes. First step of international travel with baby complete, and I only kind of looked like a sleep-deprived lunatic with bloodshot eyes and dried spit up on my crotch.

Because we’re Millennials, our first stop was a Kolbi kiosk where we bought an excessive amount of minutes for an unlocked cell phone, because we obviously have to be connected to social media as we disconnected in paradise. And, we really really needed GPS because Millennials can’t read maps, and Costa Rica has an aversion to road signs… and road names.

Life was good, traveling was easy, and nothing could go wrong…. Then, all hell broke loose when we tried to pick up our rental car.

Word to the wise: Costa Rican car rental companies are infamous for squeezing hundreds, sometimes even thousands, of dinero out of you for excessive “car insurance,” that is more like an expensive waiver.

We had already paid $100 for the basic insurance recommended by the website where we reserved our car. But the desk agent in Costa Rica assured us we also needed additional insurance that was $100 PER DAY. An additional $1,000 on top of the $1,000 we were already paying for car. Um, no thank you.

Here’s what we learned after three hours, some raised voices, lots of tears, and a tip from a well-informed fellow traveler, who was actually an angel disguised as a tatted-up man in a Hawaiian shirt.

Tip: Many credit card companies provide primary coverage for rental cars. To ensure you’re covered, call the number on the back of your credit card before you depart to get the details on how much coverage they’ll provide. And, know that they rarely cover camper vans and other such large vehicles.

A call to Visa confirmed we were covered, and could kindly tell the car rental agent to shove his insurance…

With our crisis averted, we set off for Dominical, no longer worried that we’d have to buy the car if it received so much as a scratch.

Getting Lost in a Megasuper

As food costs in the more remote areas of Costa Rica can be shockingly high, we decided to stock up in San Jose’s aptly named Megasuper grocery store. We learned a lot during that shopping trip…

Tip #1 – If you don’t speak Spanish, get a good translator app or an old school English-Spanish dictionary for your shopping endeavors. I ended up getting fabric softener that was supposed to be laundry detergent, body wash that was supposed to be conditioner, and condoms that were supposed to be band-aids. Yup.

Tip #2 – Make a, “If we get separated, meet here” plan. I got lost. Like really lost. I peeled off from the group to find some Metamucil (because y’all, no one wants vacation constipation), and it took me thirty minutes to find my people. I even started yelling their names, and attracted lots of stares. As we only had one phone with minutes, I couldn’t call them. My rescue beacon came when, somewhere in the store, my husband told our son he wouldn’t buy him the three gallon vat of strawberry ice cream and he started wailing.

Crocodile Infested Waters

Stocked up on beer, eggs, floating toys, and other essentials, we wound our way through the mostly uninhabited Costa Rican countryside, eyes peeled for monkeys, or other brag-worthy tropical creatures.

We were committed to not stopping until we reached our initial destination of Dominical, until we drove across a bridge that had about twenty tourists leaning over the side and pointing.

Being the good tourists that we are, we joined the others and looked down. I immediately wished my baby, wiggling on my hip, was securely fastened to my chest – or better yet, back in the womb. There were at least 40 massive crocodiles lounging on the sandy river banks below. The guardrail only went up to my waist.

A local informed us that chickens (hopefully dead ones) were regularly dropped off the bridge, ensuring the crocs never migrated.

Location of the creatively named “Crocodile Bridge”: You’ll find this haunting/very cool (and free!) attraction on route 34, where it crosses Tarcoles River.

Arriving in the Boho Beach Town of Dominical

Driving into laid-back Dominical, passing haphazard collections of palm trees, colorful vendors, and smiling, tan, shoeless people, allowed us to finally settle into vacation mode. We bee-lined it for the beach, and caught one of the the most glorious sunsets I’ve ever seen – the type of sunset that makes you believe in something greater. The long, wave-soaked beach was glowing with the bright pink light weaving through wisps of crisp white clouds. And I know it’s cheesy, but the sunset didn’t take my breath away, it gave me my breath back. For real.

Holistic Health Tip: If you never considered yourself a “spiritual type,” the Dominical sunsets might just convert you. To fully absorb the magic energy of the moment, make sure your children aren’t in eminent danger, close your eyes, soak in the serenity, and maybe even say a little prayer of gratitude to the Universe, God, Buddha, Santa Claus, or whoever/whatever it is that you resonate with.

Before continuing on to the Osa Peninsula, we spent some time enjoying Dominical. Click here to learn how to get the most out of this “chill vibes only” town, while entertaining little people who are wholly incapable of chillin’.

Click here for part two of our Costa Rican Travel Journal.

The post Travel Journal: Costa Rica Part One appeared first on Adventure Travel Fam.

Maybe we should have turned back when the baby almost walked into a spider (golden silk orb weaver) that was almost as big as his face. But where’s the adventure in turning back?

We were back at The Hill, but instead of scaling it with a vehicle, we would be hiking up the water at its base. Our cook/guide/comedian Luis was taking us to a secret waterfall that fed the creek, after many hours convincing the more timid members of our group that there were few jungle inhabitants that could kill them.

With my stocky offspring strapped to my chest, I followed the group up the creek that was so clear I could see the rainbow glint of the tiny fish who fed on the dead skin of my gross feet. Because this route was primarily unknown by tourists, the jungle was pristine and filled with bright critters who hadn’t been scared away by masses of humans.

Travel Tip: If you’ll be traveling with children who can still fit in a baby carrier, bring it. Being able to strap your kids to your chest or back is a life saver when you’re, well… pretty much anywhere.

As we followed the sounds of the waterfall, items from my bucket list began checking themselves off:

• Carry twenty-two pounds of boob sucking baby through the jungle, without serious injury to my back… or boobs.

• Kick my arachnophobia in the ass.

• Witness the flight of Toucan Sam, free from the constraints of the cereal box.

• Swim in a Costa Rican waterfall, and explore the surrounding banks without being poisoned by one of the many tiny frogs.

But before I got to that last one, my parents and aunt got lost in the jungle.

As our group arrived at the falls, we realized we were light three people. Shit.

Our guide and my brothers set off on a rescue mission, and were gone for a painstaking hour. When they returned, they had three intact, yet very pissed off grandparents. Because the trail we followed was essentially nonexistent, and only known to our guide, they missed a downhill turn we took when my mom was held up by ants taking tiny chunks of flesh out of her ankle. As my aunt and dad plucked the ants off, we unknowingly left them behind.

Travel Tip: You know how it’s a good idea to regularly count all your luggage while in transit? It’s also a good thing to do with people, a la kindergarten field trip.

With our tribe reunited, attention returned to the waterfall. Much to the horror of our guide, Eric and my brothers began determining the best way to jump off the falls. According to Luis, this was not done. In his twenty years of living in this region of Costa Rican he had never seen anyone jump off this waterfall. Never. Not even the locals. Never ever. This only bolstered their determination.

While I agreed with Luis – we should continue the tradition of no jumping – I’ve known my husband long enough to realize he will not be dissuaded from jumping off stuff into water. So, it was decided that the “best idea” would be to climb up the wet cliff face, and jump off the slippery top into the fairly small deep portion of the pool. There was no margin for error. But on the plus side, this dangerous pursuit distracted my parents from their pissed-offedness.

Spoiler alert: no one died. The most exciting thing that happened was some belly flops and water shooting up inopportune areas.

When the low hanging sun gave us the signal to head back, we trekked through the water, buzzing with a vibrant sense of adventure and the thrill of knowing we sucked every drop of potential out of the day. And then my flip flop broke…

Travel Tip: While Costa Rica is fairly easy to navigate without a guide, it’s worth it to hire one for a day or two to take you to the magical spots only known by locals. For example, the day following our waterfall hike, Luis led us down a shallow river that ended at a deserted beach covered in conch shells, a creek filled with polished rainbow-hued pebbles, starfish-laden tide pools and dramatic blowholes.

My biggest takeaway from this trip is how nourishing it is to not just look at nature, but really connect with it. I’m a lover of human interaction, but I found myself wanting to commune with nature more than people on our trip. And, I wasn’t alone. During many of our excursions the group would naturally wander to private spaces to roll in the waves, climb a coconut tree, meditate on a rock, paint a flower, eat some sand… There’s something for everyone.

This country seems to call forward the desire to slow down and experience the environment with all senses. One of the most common sentiments I’ve heard about Costa Rica is that it will change you – it will reorder your priorities, mold your perspective, massage the anxiety out of your mind, and cleanse your body with fresh foods and warm water. This is where you go to shed your old skin and start anew.

Read Part 1 and Part 2 of our Costa Rican travel journal.

The post Travel Journal: Costa Rica Part Three appeared first on Adventure Travel Fam.

“I dislike feeling at home when I am abroad.” ~ George Bernard Shaw

I’m always surprised by how deeply I resonate with George’s sentiment during travel. As someone who could happily spend the day with Netflix, my couch, and a comforter when I’m at home, I never want to be idle while abroad. Travel awakens my adventurer’s spirit and reminds me why I left home: to experience something fresh and transformative that will hopefully shape my family and I into more accepting, curious, humble, and open-minded folks. Costa Rica did not let us down in this regard. Thanks to an active jungle community, muddy roads, unpredictable water, and impromptu storms, the second phase of our Costa Rica escapades were fraught with a captivating sense of adventure… and lots of curse words.

After the first night in our teak jungle house, on the shore of the Osa Peninsula, we expected to be gently awakened by the lapping waves of the nearby ocean. But no. A 5am parrot brawl caused me to fall out of bed and smack into the sticky floor. Yeah, they’re beautiful, but screw them.

Travel Tip: Bring ear plugs.

When the screeching subsided, and I realized the family was still asleep, I rediscovered my vacation vibe and snuck outside to take too many pictures of our Jurassic Park surroundings, sans toddler. (Word to the wise, small children in Costa Rica will try to wrangle with the abundant crab population. It’s a toss up on who will win. Keep them close.)

As I walked along the path that wound to the beach, a startling amount of iguanas eyed me and distant thunder made the not-so-distant howler monkeys bellow their banshee cry. It was equal parts terrifying and awesome. Being in an isolated section of Costa Rica created an otherworldly ambiance that was a stark reminder that I was far from home, while also making me feel deeply grateful for experiencing something so foreign. Being in an environment that was so different from my status quo allowed my thoughts to take on a more clear, creative tone… it was addicting – so much so that from that day on I happily awoke with my 5am parrot alarm, and walked the beach path with a notebook and coffee.

When a tribe of monkeys woke up the rest of the group, our cook Luis served up a breakfast of fresh fruit, homemade bread (bless you Luis), eggs, Gallo Pinto, and alcohol-kissed coffee. With our bathing suits feeling a bit tighter, we left on a treasure hunt for good surf.

Travel Tip: If you have the option of hiring the cook that comes with many Costa Rica home rentals, do it. They will customize the meals to your dietary needs, and are often much more affordable than restaurants. We spent $150/person for breakfast, lunch and dinner for 7-days. About $7/person, per meal.

While the mellow shore break in front of our house was perfect for children and unadventurous swimmers (me), it wasn’t appealing for surf-obsessed Eric. Having traveled to the Osa Peninsula a few years prior for a surf trip, Eric knew how to get to the remote beach of Pan Dulce. Because this beach lies at the end of an unpredictable dirt road, it’s a great place for intrepid travelers to get away from the crowds.

As a reluctant intrepid-traveler, I gave the wheel to my hubs, hopeful he could safely transport us… All went well on the heavily pot-holed road, until we reached The Hill. The Hill rose out of a “criver” (river/creek), and was steep, muddy and strewn with deep rifts. At this point, I was good to call it a day, and return to the fresh brownies Luis was making. But no. The men in my family live for chances to put rental cars to the test.

The SUV, 4WD rental car went first, emitting sounds of tire screeching, metal-on-rock clanking and other cringe-worthy tones. But ultimately, they made it. (I have no visual description for this one, as my eyes were closed.)

Next up, the flimsy non-4WD car Eric was driving. I closed my eyes and my ears for this one but still heard sliding tires, ample f-bombs, crunching rocks, tire vs. mud battles, and finally… the sound of a car moving up solid ground. Halle-freaking-lujah.

Last up were Hudson and I who walked across the foot-bridge, conveniently provided for nervous mothers.

We pot-holed our way the remaining distance to the surfer’s paradise of Pan Dulce that was a short five minutes past The Hill. We could have walked it…

While the beach was secluded, and resembled a beer commercial, there was no sweet bread hanging from the palms, as the name so inaccurately implies. But alas, it was the closest locale to nirvana I’d ever experienced.

As our surfers headed into the pumping surf, Hudson took his diaper off and began jamming wet sand into his crevices. We had all found our happy place place.

When it was time to reapply sunscreen, Hudson and I waded into the mellow waves. As I worked on removing sand from his folds, the renegade wave formed. Committing the cardinal sin of having my back to the waves, I didn’t see it coming. The wave crested above my head, slapped me in the side of my face, stole my sunglasses, and tried its best to slam me into my child, and the rocky ocean floor. But because of innate ninja mom skills, I was able to grab the baby and do an awkward roll that saved him from impact, yet sacrificed the health of my right butt cheek.

Naturally, this excitement caused Hudson to start pooping on me, so we abandoned the water for a nap in the shade of a coconut tree. Because Costa Rica liked to keep us on our toes, we were awakened by a crack of lightning and the grumble of thunder. Knowing lightning and water is not an ideal combo, I strained to see if the surfers were heading in. Um, no. I watched the boys carve through the waves as a backdrop of dancing purple electricity, set against black clouds, formed behind them. F*ck.

As I pointlessly hollered into the wind, willing the guys to call it before the criver crossing turned into a legit river, the thunder-loving howler monkeys highlighted the relaxing ambiance with their demonic moaning. And the started baby stress eating sand.

When the boys finally returned, with the lightning close behind, I was in silent-mean-mode (you know the one), and got us the hell out of there.

After getting past The Hill and back on fairly reliable roads, I rolled down my window and allowed awe to replace my irritation. There’s a rare energy in a warm, passionate tropical storm that makes me feel both small and intimately connected to nature. It’s like the storm offers a window into the soul of Mother Nature – a soul that’s fierce, yet generous in its willingness to offer us water and cleansing.

Travel Tip: While rain is rarely hoped for during a beach vacation, it offers an opportunity to experience a new layer of a destination, as rain changes how our five senses interpret our surroundings. So instead of bemoaning a storm, or hiding inside until it passes, take advantage of the invitation to deepen your connection with the natural wonder of a region by stepping into it and noticing how it feels, looks, tastes, sounds, and smells when it’s taking a shower.

Click here for part 3 of our Costa Rica travel journal.

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