costa rica day 4 | exploring puerto viejo

When Zander and I were planning our trip to Costa Rica we debated for a few weeks whether to stay in calm and peaceful Cahuita or lively and trendy Puerto Viejo. I had all but booked a charming Airbnb apartment in Cahuita, situated just a stone's throw from the beach and the Cahuita National Park. Zan was hesitant, though, and leaning towards Puerto Viejo. I went with his opinion on this one, and I'm glad we did.

I had pre-judged Puerto Viejo as being a backpacker party town. I was right - Puerto Viejo is a party town, but that's not a bad thing. While the town itself is an enclave of backpackers and tanned surfers drinking and dancing through the night, there are a handful of other small towns and villages that line the coast - each with their own personality. From hippie vegan cafes to fishing villages with Rasatafarian vibes to all natural healing centers, Costa Rica's southern Caribbean coast has all things granola. Puerto Viejo is in the perfect location to explore all the tiny neighboring beach towns and beaches. And that's what we did today - explore.

We rented bikes through our hotel. I found an incredible guide to Puerto Viejo on This American Girl's blog, and I jotted down all of her recommended beaches. We biked out to the furthest beach on the far end of Punta Uva. We biked down a dirt and grave beach access path by Arecife hostel and restaurant. After a short ride, the jungle on either side of us gave way to sand and palm trees, through which the picture-perfect Caribbean turquoise water lapped the shore.

We spent an hour and a half alternating between swimming and sunning before we packed up to find lunch. All of the restaurants I'd jotted down to try were closed, the owners taking a break at the beginning of the rainy season. We met an expat named Laurel who knows everything there is to know about the area; she named each of the restaurant owners by name, telling us about their families - who just had a baby, whose restaurant isn't doing so well, and so on. Eventually, she directed us to La Botanica Organica Cafe, asking us to give the owners a warm hello while we were there.

It's a popular cafe - a vegetarian and wellness restaurant with a small shop that sells essential oils, all natural sunscreen, and the cutest cloth eco-diapers I've ever seen. Zan and I both had a hummus sandwich. I didn't love the food, to be honest (give me meat or give me death), but I loved the atmosphere and downright swooned over the pureed mango drink I had.

After, we biked to a beach nearby in Playa Chiquita. This access path felt like a mini-jungle exploration hike, so buried in vegetation it was. It opened up to an even more beautiful beach, if that's possible. Large swaths of coral dotted the sea closest to the shore. An old, hallowed log provided a place to climb and take pictures. We stayed until we could feel ourselves burning, even through layers of sunscreen.

We got back to the hotel around 5:00 and wasted no time finding ways to relax. By 7:00, we were at Tasty Waves Cantina, "the biggest party in town on Tuesdays." We had tacos and margaritas (2x1!), all delicious and homemade. Our server, an American expat, initiated us into Puerto Viejo with a shot of Guaro, Costa Rica's grain alcohol. It tastes like rubbing alcohol but goes down surprisingly smooth. Between that and two strong margaritas, I was ready to hit the dance floor at 10:00pm when a DJ cranked up the music.

Women drink for free on Tuesdays from 9:30-10:30, and at 9:30 on the dot, women came out of the crevices, swarming the formerly quiet bar. We stayed until nearly midnight. I lost track of Zan as I danced; I can't remember the last time I danced until I'd be sore the next day.

I danced with two women - backpackers, I presumed, and in that sweaty, tipsy, drunk on the music moment, I envied them and the hippie backpacker lifestyle. That feeling lasted only as long as my inebriation, though. I woke up with a headache and extra gratitude for a career that will allow me to travel while having stability. I'll take the excitement and new experiences every day all day, but doing it broke and uncertain of where my next paycheck will come from has never been for me. But there was something sweet about envying that lifestyle, letting my hair down and cutting loose for a few minutes, pretending that I, too, was carefree and deeply tanned, each tattered layer of thin clothing a story of where I'd been.

The women I danced with were incredible, even if our only communication was through hand gestures of fanning ourselves, sharing the misery of a stifling hot Caribbean night. One was my dancing hero. She wore a white tank and cut off jean shorts and had this natural rhythm that was a mix of dancing in reggae clubs as often as hip hop ones. She was so confident and unaware of anyone around her. I loved her energy. Her friend, a lanky brunette, didn't have those dancing skills, but she had a smile that took over her entire face. They were a great pair, and it was fun to join them for a little while, loving and living life to the fullest.

Zan hailed a cab as I paid a street vendor for a meat kabob and a cheese empanada. The next morning I'd blame Guaro's Revenge for my raging headache, but in the moment, it was exhilarating to be young and wild and free.