On the Edge in Costa Rica
As our rental car skittered down an extremely steep stone-and-gravel road near the Turrialba Volcano, I silently wondered if we were going to get out of Costa Rica alive.
In Costa Rica, a Class IV Hotel
Of all the hotels I've stayed in, this was the first that did not have 1) a bellman, 2) a check-in desk or 3) electricity.
A Working Vacation
After 9/11, a fun-filled holiday didn't seem quite right. Their solution: Trading beach towels for cement trowels in Costa Rica.
In Costa Rica, A Homecoming for Turtles
What: Nighttime turtle viewing at Las Baulas National Marine Park, nesting beach for leatherbacks, the world's largest reptile.
Jungle All the Way
Until I went to Costa Rica, I thought the resplendent quetzal was a myth. Then I saw this blue-green and scarlet marvel with my own eyes, magnified seven times in my binoculars. I learned that only Aztec and Mayan nobles were allowed to cloak themselves in its plumage -- and that Costa Rica now is one of the few spots on Earth where this magical bird can be seen.
Where the Swells Are
John Lancaster rides the waves off the coast of Costa Rica.
Crazy Mamas in Costa Rica
We were told we were crazy. This was before one kid threw up all over the rental car on a cliffside road with no guardrail. This was before we set fire to our hotel room. This was before Zach--my friend's 16-month-old son--decided to play caveman, dragging Ryan--my 15-month-old daughter--around by her hair. This was before we carried our kids for two miles through the rain forest on our hips, backpacks abandoned because, well, the Central American sun had burned straight through our SPF-15 sunscreen, and carrying them just hurt . . . too . . . much.
In the Heat of the Jungle
CastSara, D.C. native, young professional
Lisa, New Yorker, young professional
Surfer, handsome, tan Venezuelan
Nina, little girl from Playa Hermosa
In Costa Rica, Not Your Average Joe
I had my first Costa Rican coffee in a small cafe about 100 yards west of the Museo Nacional in the capital of San Jose. My brother and I were there on a business trip, and one evening, after buying a fragrant loaf of bread at a corner bakery, we went for a cup at a local diner. The server set two glass tumblers on the table. Then she poured thick, aromatic coffee from a steaming metal pitcher. From a second came hot milk. Black and white curled together like smoke through the transparent glass as we tore chunks of crusty bread to dunk in the savory liquid.