I finally got my butt over to the Caribbean side -- after 15 years of living in the country! Hey (or is it hay?), horse owners don't get to travel much, that's my excuse. My traveling partner, John, had lived in Cahuita for awhile, so I had a great guide to show me the local spots. We decided to make it a real road trip, and explore a bit more of the country on the way. Starting in the Central Pacific, we would take the long way -- from San Isidro over the mountains to Cartago, then down the back way through the Turrialba valley to the coast. Our return trip would be on the main highway, passing through the Braulio Carillo National Park and up to San Jose. Getting There We left early on a Sunday morning in late October. I had a cooler packed with road trip beer and snacks. The drive would take at least seven hours before we got to Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean coast. It was a cloudy and drizzly day, but thankfully Sunday traffic was light all the way to San Isidro, where we turned onto Ruta 2, the road that would take us over the mountains. Part of the Pan-American Highway, the two-lane winding road rises to 10,800 feet at the top of the ridge before snaking back down the mountains to Cartago. Fondly known as the "Cerro de la Muerte" ("ridgeline of death") since olden days, when travelers on horseback or oxcart often died in the frigid temperatures trying to cross the pass. The views are breathtaking. Driving through the mountains, gazing into the steep and seemingly inaccessible valleys, we could occasionally spot a farm in the middle of nowhere. How in the heck do they get out there? As we kept climbing in elevation, there was a place where we could see to the Pacific ocean. If you're lucky to catch the view on a really clear day (we weren't), it's possible to see the Caribbean on the other side. The drive from San Isidro to Cartago takes about 3 hours on a good day. Coming down out of the mountains, we arrived close to 11 a.m. -- in the middle of Sunday services. No trip to Cartago is complete without seeing the famous Basilica of Our Lady of the Angels, and despite our bad timing, we had to get a glimpse of the magnificent building -- with an even more interesting story. The "Lady of the Angels" at the Basilica is a doll-like figure widely believed to have miraculous powers. The legend tells of a young girl who found the doll at a spring. She brought it home, but the next day it went missing -- it had mysteriously returned to the spring. After several attempts and subsequent returns (and sometimes shedding of real blood from the doll's eyes), the figure was declared to be a holy miracle and the basilica was built around the original spring where the doll was found. Every year, hundreds of thousands of Ticos make the pilgrimage to the Basilica in Cartago, arriving en masse for the traditional services on August 2nd. Pilgrims walk from all over the country, often taking several days or a week. Many people come seeking miraculous cures, or forgiveness for past sins. Others make the walk to give thanks or show their profound love for their faith. We continued on from Cartago, via Ruta 10, driving through the beautiful Turrialba valley to the Caribbean coast. I was enchanted with the Turrialba area -- lush, relatively flat plains, surrounded by towering mountains. Unfortunately, one of those mountains is an active volcano. OK, scratch that idea. After Turrialba, the road curved down the mountain slope, through charming little towns with homes perched precariously along the hillsides. As we came out of the mountains, the entire Caribbean plain opened up in front of us -- completely flat, as far as the eye could see in every direction. "See that land up there?" John said, pointing somewhere in the distance, "that's Nicaragua." I confess, I have absolutely no sense of direction. I used to -- until I moved to Costa Rica in 2004. Before that, I lived on the coast in Massachusetts: the Atlantic coast, where the ocean is always to the east, where it belongs. My inner compass went haywire when I moved to the Pacific side of Costa Rica. I'm convinced it's because the ocean is on the wrong side. Thank goodness for Waze. We continued past Siquirres, around Limon, and there it was. My lovely Atlantic Ocean, just where it was supposed to be. Our journey wasn't over yet, though. We still had over an hour to get to our final destination, Puerto Viejo. We headed south with the traffic, the ocean appropriately on the left, where it belonged. The scenery consisted of endless fields of banana plantations. John explained that these bananas, an important export crop, had a bleak future. The all-purpose Cavendish bananas (most of bananas sold in US stores) are dying off from a blight (or something like that). So if you like them, enjoy them now, and don't be afraid to try the many other varieties of bananas that exist. Caribbean Vibes Finally, after 8 hours of pleasurable driving, we arrived at Puerto Viejo and checked into our room at the Hotel Puerto Viejo. Located within walking distance to everything, this inexpensive hostel has a friendly, laid-back vibe and comfortable rooms. Ours was in a little tower, up a set of steep wooden steps. A comfy queen mattress with decent sheets was perched up on a raised platform -- about three feet under a rather rusty ceiling fan. There was a bit of room to store our backpacks, and that was it. Not bad, as hostels go. It was clean, cozy and private...but I worried about navigating those stairs in the middle of the night to get to the bathroom. Being of one mind, it wasn't long before we walked the block or so to the center of all the action in the town. It was time for cocktails, and it was happy hour. Within 5 minutes, we were seated at a table next to the bustling sidewalk, overlooking the beach. I ordered a Margarita (two for one? Really? OK!), and John got a beer. The Margaritas were good, they went down easily. I had two more. And apparently another two more, but I don't remember those (or the slice of pizza I insisted on eating on the way home). And yes, I fell down the stairs, landing on my recently-out-of-a-cast elbow, but I wasn't feeling any pain [snort] until the next day. The first night's sleep was a bit challenging, despite my what-should-have-been comatose condition. The mosquitos buzzed around our heads all night long. For some reason, John didn't want to turn on the fan, and I'll admit, it didn't look all that safe. So we sort of wrapped up like mummies, swatting away the constant annoying buzzing, until "someone" turned on the fan around 3 a.m. Bliss. The mosquitos miraculously disappeared. Duh. The next morning, John took me to a local favorite -- a little French bakery, called De Gustibus. It was a popular place: most of the cafe tables were full. Customers were lined up, waiting to place their orders for coffee, cappucinos, and one of the delectable pastries and chocolates in the display case. Some much needed coffee and yummy pastries, consumed on a Margarita-empty stomach, gave me the sugar boost I needed for the rest of the day. We drove around, exploring some of the other towns along the coast, from Cahuita down to Manzanillo. These little beach towns were peaceful, compared to the party town vibe of Puerto Viejo. Originally we were planning on snorkeling near Punta Mala, but the weather was rainy and rather cool, and the seas were churned up from the storm. Instead, we went back in Puerto Viejo, and spent the afternoon exploring Puerto Viejo's shops -- and bars, of course. John bought a good used beach bike. I found a a wonderful line of clothes called Laura May, and bought a dress. Shopping interspersed with a beer (or Margarita) or two on a rainy day is OK by me. Puerto Viejo is a colorful, friendly little town. Think reggae music, dreadlocks, and bare feet, everyone friendly as could be to the more conservative tourists. The grocery store murals capture the essence. The taxi stand, with an adorable line of little red jitney, wait for customers near the beach. On our last night in town, we found a Sushi bar with an "All You Can Eat" special. As expected, the place was mobbed. The food was great -- and they had sake! (Do you sense a theme here?) I plan to spend more time in Puerto Viejo, there's a lot to do in the area, a fun nightlife, and a laid back atmosphere. As planned, we left early the next morning for our trip back to the Pacific coast. Our last stop in Puerto Viejo was at the beach, where we took photos of each other, standing in the Atlantic. We planned to do it again on the Pacific side, when we got home. Two oceans in one day -- how many people can say that? On the Road Again Our return trip would take us back down the coast to Limon, through Guapiles, and then up the mountains through the Braulio Carillo National Park to San Jose. From there, we would take our usual route home via the Caldera highway and coast road. Leaving Puerto Viejo so early in the morning, De Gustibus (that yummy French bakery) wasn't even open yet. Bummer. As John drove us up the coast to Limon, I looked for anyplace we could get a cup of coffee. I spied a little bakery on the highway turned out to be a great; it had hot coffee, fresh croissants, and heck that's all I needed. We paid at the counter, and picked up our order. John said, "Be careful, the lids aren't really on very well..." at the same time as the hot coffee, which I was of course holding by the lid, fell out of my hands and spilled all over me and the pavement. Great. I grabbed a dry pair of pants, and went into the bakery to order another coffee and get the bathroom key to change into something dry. Collecting my dignity, and my newly prepared coffee, one hot stained pair of jeans under my arm, I paid for the second cup and carefully took it out to the car. Sheesh. Once we got past Limon and Guapiles, the highway began climbing straight up the mountains, each turn revealing a new amazing view of the Braulio Carillo National Park. At one point, the road goes right through the mountain, in a long underground tunnel that frankly gave me a bit of claustrophobia. If we had continued directly on the highway, we would end up in downtown San Jose, with its terrible traffic. Instead, we used Waze to scoot the back way through Heredia and out towards the airport, where we picked up the familiar ride home. It was a quicker return trip, and after we settled in, we went down to the ocean for the second picture. I can now say I've put my feet in the Atlantic and in the Pacific on the same day. All in all, I wish I had gotten to spend more time in Puerto Viejo, but now that I know what to expect, I would not hesitate to return. I also got to see some areas of the country that I might want to visit someday. Stay tuned....