Where we live – Moving to the Costa Rican rainforest

You know you live in the jungle when… You see ants on your cupboard and think, “meh.. they’re only little ants,” and walk away.

You know those photographs, postcards and advertisements of Costa Rica’s beautiful coastline dotted with palm trees, ocean huts, majestic mountains, fabulous resorts with pools and server boys? Well I don’t live there. I live in the jungle, a remote place (as remote as it gets in a country this size) that was first truly connected to the rest of the country about 30 years ago when they built the first highway going through the cloud forest to get here. Rather than island mansions that open up to pristine ocean, we live in the real Costa Rica. We feel like we’re camping, only every day.

The kitchen walls and the front door are nothing but bars, letting in the fresh rainforest air, droplets from the recent downpour, all the sounds of the jungle, as well as all the insects, creatures and birds that populate our area. We share a house with all kinds of spiders, bees, crawling insects, ants varying dramatically in size, flying insects, geckos, and the occasional visit from a cockroach or basilica lizard that Cena has named Sofie-Anne. However, we are (surprisingly) happy to do it. They are all just a fact of life here. As well as the toucans, parrots, and multitude of other birds Cena has been excitedly identifying. Not to mention the frogs, turtles, monkeys and sloths (the latter two we have yet to see in our few days here). You just have to sleep with a mosquito net to make sure you don’t wake up with one of anything on your chest.

You also have to be vigilant in your trips to the bathroom. Bathrooms seem to be like a neutral zone between humans and creatures, as they are the dark and damp corner of your house that is the least inhabited. (As there are also no mirrors anywhere in this part of the world, getting ready is not done in the bathroom. Not to mention no sink in the bathroom, nor hot water, so you don’t linger during showers either.) A trip to the bathroom first involves a quick scan of the floor before even entering to check for ants or crawling insects. Next, while still standing outside, to reach your hand in and turn on the light, checking for falling cockroaches and other flying insects. Next, to slowly peak your head in the shower checking for basilicas, geckos, birds and other creatures that might have slipped in through the bars. Finally, to check the toilet bowl for frogs before sitting down. Oh, you forgot to check behind the door and turns out there’s a lizard there that scares you half to death. (But it’s okay, in the end you make friends with her)

However, from these experiences and bathroom checklist you are rewarded by pristine beauty and scenery every way you turn. Be it walking to the store down a dirt road between houses and small communities/towns that inhabit the rainforest, sitting at work staring out directly at a large river and beautiful national reserve forest land, or eating breakfast looking out in to the jungle that is our backyard. Just as the downpours that lurk around every corner are worth it for living 1 minute from a beautiful river and seeing bright colours everywhere. And the lack of internet at home (no internet and no mirrors, what would North Americans do?) is absolutely worthwhile for the laidback ‘pura vida’ (good/pure life) that the Ticos (Costa Ricans) have adopted as their unofficial national slogan.

Since we do live in a quite remote area, communities are small and close. Bellegarde small. The main town, Puerto Viejo de Sarapiqui, is the large one that has the 3 banks, bus station, 3-5 supermercados, hardware stores, car dealerships, schools, etc. It is 6km down the highway from us here in the community of Chilamate. Between us and Puerto Viejo is about 3 other little communities. Ours straddles the highway for a while between here and the Selva Verde lodge grounds and reserve where the SCLC (Sarapiqui Conservation and Learning Centre – where we work) is located. However, the main point of the community is comprised of a general store, a little grocery store, a bar/restaurant, (with karaoke of course, as basically all bars do here) and a hardware store, 2 on each side of the highway, and a little dirt road with about 6 lots that open to the river. Our house is on the second lot on the right. I say lots, because there is never just a house, but rather a group of houses owned by a main house.

On ours for example there is the main house where Rosi lives with her 3 boys, then a little side house more or less attached to the main house partitioned in to two separate sleeping quarters and bathrooms, and then the back house where we live. Yazmin, the Volunteer Coordinator and our immediate supervisor (who is also a hilarious opinionated American/Uruguayan gypsy), lives in the partition closest to us and has done so for the last year or year and a half, and Micheal, a Kiwi short term volunteer lives in the other one. In the house across the street from us and up about 20 feet towards the highway is Ana’s house in which her son Jorgé and Sam, an American short-term volunteer, live in a partitioned place across from the garage of the main house. In the main house with Ana lives Caitlin, an American EFL teacher married to a Peruvian (who is not here), who also just arrived here 2 days before us. Finally, on the same side down from ours is motel style accommodations, and next to that is Pablo’s place, a large Swiss style lodge that rents out to river guides and rafters, that has internet. We have yet to go over and properly meet Pablo, but he is another good friend of Yazmin’s, (along with Chandi, our Pirate taxi friend) and his place (as it has internet) is a hangout. Finally the Centre (or SCLC), is just a 5 minute walk down the highway.

It is so wonderful to be living in a close international community (in the jungle) where Sam stops by to say she’s going in to town with Chandi to the liquor store, and ask if we want anything, and we come out to find Yazmin and Chandi laying in one of our hammocks out front. Michael leaves his wine and fresca in our fridge, we go over to use Jorgé’s oven, and we find a very pregnant Rosi walking behind the kitchen wall/bars to collect eggs from the chickens out back.