going down to the river

Having spent my first in-country post reflecting upon the neoliberal penetration of Costa Rica and the disquieting way that serving the consumer desires of North American and European tourists, I have to note that we spent Sunday in full tourist mode - and I had one of the most amazing days of my life doing so.

We boarded our bus by 6:30am and set off from San José. We passed briefly through the colonial capital of Cartago, passing the ruins of a colonial church destroyed several times by earthquakes, and by the spectacular Basílica de Nuestra Señora de los Ángeles, the nation's holiest shrine. The church sits in the shadow of the Volcán Irazú, one of Costa Rica's numerous active volcanoes. From there, we wound our way northwards into the Talamanca mountains, passing the Volcán Turrialba, which had been thought to be extinct until just a few years ago. Surprise...

We stopped for breakfast at a restaurant high up in the Talamancas, enjoying our first taste of gallo pinto, the spiced rice and beans dish that is a national tradition for every morning, as well as some of the local pineapple from what has recently become the world's #1 exporter of the tropical fruit. From there, we headed northwards into Limón province, stopping on the side of the road to take photographs of a sloth hanging in the trees that our driver had noticed. Eventually, we began a slight descent, to head off on the real purpose of the day's trip: whitewater rafting on the Rio Pacuare.

Words can barely capture how spectacular the Pacuare is (hopefully, between my disposable camera and the CD we all pitched in for, I'll eventually have photos worth posting). We had three rafts (three out of the eleven organized by our tour group), and spent an amazing day going nearly 20 miles downstream through 52 rapids, including numerous class III rapids and perhaps five class IV rapids. Our guide, though not someone I meshed with personally, knew the river remarkably well, & steered us along, not only without losing a single person into the river (unless you count the student who was twice pulled into the river by another guide who clearly was smitten with her), but spun us around in such ways that we suddenly found ourselves facing - or in the spray of - some of the breathtaking waterfalls that cascade into the Pacaure. At times, the cliffs made you feel like you were in a tropical version of Lord of the Rings, local wildlife included toucans and vultures. At one point, right after lunch (more local pineapple and watermelons, plus wraps with ingredients all prepared by our guides), we passed an indigenous village - of the Awari, if Lonely Planet can be trusted - and our guide steered us over to drop off the leftover lunchmeats for the Awari kids.

Late in the trip, we passed through the pass at Dos Montañas, a narrow gorge with a wooden footbridge half-crumbled maybe 40 feet above us (one student speculated whether one of the Indiana Jones scenes had been filmed there). This was perhaps the most scenic spot of that 20-mile stretch of the Pacaure, and the students were horrified and stunned to discover that the Costa Rican Electricity Institute has been trying to dam the Pacaure right at that spot for some years now, a move that would flood the river basin and the indigenous villages, and destroy one of the world's greatest places for rafting. For the time being, local protests plus a glut of energy from other sources have stalled the project for the foreseeable future, but our river guide warned us we couldn't take the river's future for granted. It is fascinating to watch - not surprising, but fascinating to watch this in action - how locals can effectively leverage appeals to tourists on their behalf, as they can now argue more and more convincingly that the importance of the Pacaure to the ecotourist economy makes saving the river and dropping the dam plans once and for all is economically logical. This, of course, is also a lovely experiential introduction to my class.

We put in right past an old rusted bridge where local kids were jumping off from 20, 30, 50 feet and more up into the Pacaure. After drying off & changing, & buying the requisite souvenirs, we got back in the bus, and headed back to San José, this time for a longer time in the Caribbean lowlands of Limón, before climbing into the Braulio Carrillo National Park (which looked more like the Pacific Northwest than the tropical lowlands just a few kilometers back), crossed into Heredia province before re-entering the capital, right as we passed the Saprissa soccer stadium, home to both the most famous club in Costa Rica (for which the stadium is named) and to the national team. By day's end, we were utterly exhausted and thoroughly satisfied.