Puerto Viejo - my eclectic homeland

I was born in Trinidad and definitely consider it my 'mother' country. My early adult years in the US make it my 'adopted' country. But Puerto Viejo, on the Caribbean Coast of Costa Rica is certainly a place that is my 'individualism' town of choice.

Maybe it was the landscape. Undeveloped beaches overhung with branches of almond trees. Mountains in the background without any visible buildings. The main road running alongside the shore so that you could just park your bike and jump into the water on the spur of the moment.

Maybe it was the people. The German boy across the street from the internet cafe who became gaming friends with Kwamena and whose hobby was putting the chain back on his bike as it fell off every five minutes. The Argentinian surfer who explained to me that one of the reasons that I didn't like the Pacific Coast was that there was a human price to pay when people gave 100% to the tourist experience like they did on that coast. The short haired Jamaican woman known as Boy Boy who sold whole wheat Jamaican style bread from her backpack and who lived in a large two storied house right on the beautiful black sand beach - Playa Negra. The white rastafarian woman with whom I always shared a pleasant smile and a wave as we passed each other on our bikes every day, small child in each of our bike seats. And I could go on for hours. The Trini-Guyanese-Canadian-Costa Rican who owned the best restaurant in town and who became our host for most of the trip. The rastafarian surfing teacher Beto from Uruguay who insisted that he give extra time to me to get me up on the board after Kwamena's lesson.  The Nicaraguan man from Corn Island who grew up riding horses on his car less island and who handed over the reins to me when the children went horseback riding and said 'you take them out. I'll stay back here. Walk wherever you want to go.'

Maybe it was the whole vibe of the place. An energy that said, we know that everyone in the rest of the world thinks that everything is SO important, but we think that nothing is really that important. So step off that Speedy Gonzalez trip that you are on and come join us as we bring a 'chillin' attitude to everything that we do.  That's why there was a 'hammock hotel' where we stayed, no buses or cars accessible for transport so most people ride bikes, and three wild horses wandering the streets of the town.

The place if full of 'misfits.' People who have found themselves to be really out of sync with the values of much of the rest of the world but feel at home here. There is a little community of cowboy style outlaws on the north of the town but I didn't really want to get too close. The majority of the local population is made up of bilingual black descendants of Jamaicans and people from other parts of the West Indies. But there are Amerindians, Europeans, Americans, Canadians, people from other parts of Central and South America. A survey was done recently and of the 4000+ people there they found over 40 languages spoken.

Puerto Viejo whets your appetite for an unpretentious life where shirt and shoes do not matter. Where no one gives a hoot about the size of your bank account or whether you have one at all. And where the shop owners threatened not to pay taxes because of the bad state of the roads and the municipality came and paved the main road just in front of the businesses. Nothing more, nothing less. In front of one of the restaurants there was a teenager with a hose who stood there all day wetting the road to keep the dust down. It's that kind of place. It's the kind of place where you just ask where 'Baby' or 'Stash' or 'Crazy Sylvester' or 'Raul' are and everyone can tell you not only where they live but how long ago they passed down the road.

I'll be back. The question only is when.