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An unexpected swim often greets rafters taking on the fierce class five rapids of the Rio Pacuare.
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Maintaining a “wheelie” on a calm section of the Rio Pacuare.
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A two-toed tree sloth.
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Tracks made by a sea turtle shuffling ashore to lay her eggs and then lumbering back out to sea.
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Volcán Arenal during one of its frequent eruptions.
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A guest room at Selva Bananito.
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Maleku masks for sale in a replica village.
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A volunteer enjoying recess with local schoolchildren.
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Touring a pineapple plantation.
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Rios Tropicales lodge.
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Just before my head disappeared under water, I seemed to stop — freeze-frame style — and ponder what, exactly, had brought me to my present situation: being hurled into a fierce class five rapid on Costa Rica’s Rio Pacuare. Sheer madness was all that came to mind. But with my raft capsized and all eight of my fellow passengers, plus our guide, being swept downstream, that split second was all I had to ponder my plight. Miraculously, I reached dry ground thanks to a rope tossed from shore. (Apparently, indigenous fishermen gathered here for the daily catch of floundering gringo.) White-knuckled and shaking, all I had time to offer my rescuers was a jittery “Graçias!” before I jumped back in my rubber boat to sail after the 40-odd people I was nominally in charge of keeping alive and smiling. After all, I was on the clock, and my work was rushing downriver fast. It’s all in a day’s work, though, for an adventure guide-in-training in the wilds of Central America.
Plunging into the rapids of the Rio Pacuare was just one of my job requirements last summer as a tour leader-in-training with International Student Volunteers (ISV). I had already volunteered with ISV in Costa Rica during a break from my studies at the University of Alberta in 2005, so I guess you could say I knew what I was getting into when I returned for three months in 2008 as an employee. Every summer, ISV student volunteers spend two weeks on a site-specific project in community development, conservation or youth education, followed by another two weeks spent exploring the country’s natural wealth. As a tour leader-in-training, I was there to help ensure that tours stayed on schedule and that the students learned and had fun, and that meant that I participated in all activities: kayaking through caiman- and toucan-inhabited canals, horseback riding through lush farmland, rappelling beside 60-metre waterfalls, and zip- lining through ancient rainforests. But more than just exhausting my adrenal glands, the experience gave me a unique perspective on both sides of the burgeoning field of “eco-tourism” and an intimate knowledge of one of the most naturally “green” countries on Earth.
The “Rich” Coast
Although dubbed “the rich coast” after Christopher Columbus first caught glimpse of it in 1502, Costa Rica was later ignored when its thick jungles, high-altitude passes and lack of precious resources drove its Spanish colonizers farther north to establish their seat of rule in Guatemala City. Ironically, these obstacles, which left the country open to centuries of neglect, are the very attractions that have provided it with a thriving tourist industry today. With about a quarter of its land declared “protected national parks or areas,” this 51,000 square-kilometre country — a little smaller than Nova Scotia — leads the world in protected area relative to land size. It also has an incredibly rich biological biodiversity: roughly five percent of the world’s known plant and animal species call Costa Rica home. Jaguars and ocelots still prowl among the heliconias, orchids and ferns, while the forest canopies are home to hummingbirds and macaws, tree frogs, monkeys and sloths.
It may not have been historically wealthy, but Costa Rica’s natural riches makes its people very “rich,” indeed. According to the New Economics Foundation, the nation ranks first on its Happy Planet Index, which rates the happiness of people’s lives relative to their lifespan and their efficient use of the Earth’s resources. Costa Ricans are so happy, in fact, that the nation abolished its army in 1948, and, unlike much of the rest of the Americas, it has not seen civil war since. The country’s reputation as a safe, unspoiled and exotic destination draws over two million visitors annually, and tourism — particularly “eco-tourism” — is one of the country’s fastest growing industries.
Mean Green Eco-Confused Machines
But not all eco-tourism options are created equal. If anything became clear during my summer as a tour leader, it was the muddy puddle separating what is advertised and what is exercised. ISV, the tour company I worked for, offered genuinely ecologically responsible travel options. However, several of the places I routinely visited in my travels would give a one-time visitor a “green-washed” impression.
Take, for instance, Costa Rica’s Tortuguero National Park. In Spanish, tortuguero can be translated to mean “full of turtles,” and the park contains one of the most important nesting beaches for green sea turtles in the world. Yet a better name might be “full of tourists,” as the park sees 50,000 tourists flank its shores and canals annually. During our stay in August, it resembled a zoo. Hotels and spas were hastily cropping up along freshwater canals just outside the park’s boundaries, and cocktails were being served to the tune of falling trees. The two-stroke motors of water taxis coughed up exhaust on the waterways, and bold capuchin monkeys snuck scraps from the dining tables. Although tourism financed conservation efforts, created jobs for locals in the nearby village, and helped restore the numbers of green sea turtles — which had been hunted to near-extinction in the 1950s — it cut with a double-edged sword, and myriad concerns were being neglected at the expense of the turtles, which provided such lucrative opportunities.
What should have been an environmental success story has appeared to have converse effects on the people of Costa Rica. The influx of money has brought with it problems with hard drugs, explained our group’s young captain who sported a gold watch and flashy sneakers. Yet it has allowed others to pursue further education in the capital, San Jose. Situations like this illustrate just how difficult it is to assess the overall economic, social and environmental impact of tourism on a region — and reveal the inadvertent shadiness inherent in anything labelled “eco-friendly.”
Pura Vida?
Pura vida, or, literally “pure life,” is a tremendously popular and versatile phrase in Costa Rica, sort of equivalent to “cool” in English. Representing kinship and the will to enjoy life, this catchy idiom is a typical response to “how’s it going?” or used when greeting or parting. Fluency in Spanish isn’t necessary for travel here, but pura vida, along with por favor (please) and graçias (thank you) will take you pretty far, and any effort is warmly appreciated by the locals. The first time I travelled to Costa Rica, I didn’t know any Spanish, but I quickly learned enough to engage in simple conversations on the bus, in grocery stores, etc. However, one particular experience offered a rather embarrassing lesson in numerals.
Stopping by the bank to stock up on cash, I asked the young gentleman behind the counter for what I thought was “$400 in bills.” Raising an eyebrow, he told me it would take a few minutes. After disappearing into the back for what felt like an eternity, he reemerged carrying two large plastic bags. Each was filled with the equivalent of $200 — in coins — and weighed close to seven kilograms! After we both blushed apologetically, realizing the mix-up, we set the full line of customers behind us into a chuckling frenzy.
Such incidents are becoming much more rare in Costa Rica. As the tourism and technology sectors have grown, so have the prevalence of English and foreign dollars. The foreign influence has also led to the dwindling numbers of an indigenous tribe, the Malekus, who live near the second-most active volcano in the world, Volcán Arenal. La Fortuna, the town closest to the volcano, houses trendy hot springs and is a bustling hive of tourist activity. Most Malekus now earn their livings through local tourism in the sale of tribal art, such as colourful painted masks, and cultural presentations they put on in replica Maleku villages.
Following ISV’s circuit, I visited one such replica village five times during my summer as tour leader. Striking up friendships with locals there was certainly one of the more poignant aspects of the job, introducing me to a human dynamic a one-time visitor might not discover. One particularly gracious gentleman, a Maleku guide and interpreter, described his dilemma to me at a soda, or diner, after work. In addition to basics such as running water and electricity, recent growth had brought foreign music, fashion, medicine and food into the homes of Malekus and Costa Ricans alike. But as the tribe slowly integrates into the local population, the Maleku dialect is beginning to vanish, along with the traditional way of life. He said he was sad to see his tribe and its traditions fade, but he saw such change as inevitable.
Rising to the Challenge
While change is inevitable, there were two companies I worked with that took responsible and sustainable growth to heart. Selva Bananito, which I visited five times, is a stunning world-class eco-lodge located 30 kilometres south of the Caribbean port city of Limón. Its 11 cabins and one common dining hall, or rancho, were well off the beaten path and provided an Old World escape. Built entirely from salvaged wood, the rustic yet handsome cabins had solar-heated water, clay water filters and natural waste purification systems. Visitors to Selva Bananito could choose from a variety of adventure and nature tours, all designed to produce minimal ecological impact, and the owner, committed to reducing the carbon dioxide emissions associated with air travel, spearheaded a carbon-neutral strategy for guests, who could purchase carbon offset credits through the lodge in exchange for reduced rates. (To research carbon offsetting options for your own travels, try visiting Carbon Catalog or EcoBusiness-Links, whose websites are listed at the end of the article.)
Rios Tropicales, our whitewater rafting partner, has been internationally recognized for its commitment to conservation. In addition to employing the top guides on its tours on the Pacuare, it’s actively involved in the local indigenous community, supporting the building of health clinics, schools and sustainable organic produce and coffee bean operations. Spending a few nights in Rios Tropicales’ secluded jungle lodge after rafting in was a definite highlight of the trip, and stayovers there always included some cliff jumping and low-key rock climbing. The food they served had a particularly local flair. On the first night, they served us enormous plates of “Jungle Chicken” — essentially chicken and rice jazzed up with your choice of corn, peppers, heart of palm, tomatoes, macadamia nuts, cheese and more. And in the mornings, hearty breakfasts of pancueques (pancakes), huevos revueltos (scrambled eggs), fresh fruit and coffee were enough to rouse even the soundest sleepers for early-morning bird watching.
Slowing it Down a Nibble
Although most of our outings involved pretty high-energy activities — snorkelling, tree climbing, kayaking and horseback riding — taking time out to sample the local cuisine allowed us not only to stock up on much-needed calories but provided us with deeper insight into the origins of our food. Tours of pineapple, coffee bean and banana plantations offered a fascinating journey into the life cycles of some of our most beloved snacks and beverages. I will never look at a banana the same way again, knowing the work that goes into harvesting them. Banana bunches, which sprout up to 200 bananas or so each, must be hacked down from the trees by machete and hoisted onto hooks lining a conveyor cable. We saw one man towing 25 bunches at a time — over 900 kilograms — on a “bunch train” attached to his waist. He would then run them down the cable through the Caribbean lowlands, the hottest and most humid region of the country, to the processing station where they were to be cut, sized, sorted and packaged.
I particularly enjoyed traditional Costa Rican dishes, which are heavily influenced by the influx of the Jamaicans first brought to the country as slaves in the 1800s. A typical lunch, or casado, includes rice and beans with sides of meat and salad, plantains and cheese. On the coasts, rice and beans, a favourite dish throughout the Caribbean, is usually served with fresh coconut and spices, and its inland counterpart, gallo pinto, is flavoured by the nation’s prized Lizano Salsa. Appetizers, or tapas, tend to be fried foods such as patacones (plantains), chicharrones (pork) and empanadas, but fresh fruits and veggies are always in season, and mangos — which you can pick right off the trees — are unlike anything you can find in Canada. While western fast-food chains were prevalent in the larger cities, I always stuck to the local diners, where the licuados (fruit milkshakes) in blackberry, avocado and papaya were particularly delicioso!
Live, Learn and Vote
As my contract came to an end, my perspective of Costa Rica began to change. Out of the once-alien landscape of canopied forests and cobalt blue oceans, a familiar theme began to emerge: animals, people, plants — all things — were simply making the most of life. Some took advantage, some were taken advantage of, and the tourism industry was no exception. But as consumers, we vote with our pocketbooks, so supporting providers who take into account the environmental, social and economic impact of their projects can go a long way toward making a positive difference.
Some people argue that the negative effects of eco-tourism outweigh the benefits and that everyone should just stay home, but I disagree. Experiencing the tastes, sights, smells, sounds and textures of a foreign place is a refreshing reminder that the world is a truly extraordinary place. And certainly if everyone just stayed at home, the economies of places such as Costa Rica would collapse, and the local environment would suffer as a result.
So while my summer as an eco-tour guide scarcely qualifies me as an expert, I did learn that there is a lot one can do to ensure a greener vacation or travel experience. Here are a few small tips I picked up along the way that are useful from Calgary to Costa Rica, and anywhere in between.
Myka Jones has recently unloaded her backpack in Calgary, where she helps visitors explore natural and manmade wonders at the Telus World of Science.
Myka cracking a coconut.
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