What Costa Rica Taught Me About Fear

“Si, vaya.” Lessons of a young traveler in Costa Rica during a life crisis.

It was time to face fears. This is Costa Rica, circa 2010. Bestie and I are in our fearsome Toyota Yaris rental, using a map to find the beaches we read about to have some adventure. Neither of us had been out-of-country in any meaningful way, and our Costa Rica story started after we each had our own quarter-life earthquakes. With newly adult paychecks, we decided to go as far as we could afford. And we’re lost.

(Heads up- there is an affiliate link at the end a spot on Nat Geo adventure map. You know the drill: at no extra cost to you a purchase from the link will provide me a small commission. I treasure it and would rep it regardless, but transparency matters.)

Navigating Costa Rica

Some people in our lives weren’t thrilled about this trip. We were two young women going on our own for the first. Popular destination or not, this was still Central America. There were alarmist tourist stories for every nation south of the US border. While we certainly didn’t discover tourism in Costa Rica, this was before the BIG boom. This was before the tourist airport in Guanacaste had its $10 million renovations. Actually, this was before the tourist airport had walls. Mothers worried.

On a trip that we remember for relaxing, we actually accomplished a lot. We started with navigating our forgotten airport pickup. For the first time in our lives, we were the only people from the States, surrounded by Costa Ricans, Canadians, assorted Europeans, and South Africans. The Costa Ricans, on a large family vacation during the Gillette plant’s shut down, taught us about Pura Vida and Cuba libre. We joined a Canadian couple on a tour and ziplined through a rainforest at 50mph, 620 feet in the air, with mist stinging our faces. After, we relaxed in the hot springs at the foot of a volcano, hob-knobbing with private jet-setters. We did all the typical vacation things but decided our Costa Rica story needed a spontaneous chapter.

We needed to get a rental car and hit the road on our own. In one of our wiser moves, we befriended our concierge. He heard the quote we got for a car rental and grabbed the phone, spoke adamant Spanish, and assured us of a much cheaper price at the end of the call (and delivered on that promise.) Bestie inspected the marks on that car at check out with an attention to detail that would have made her father proud. She drove, I navigated. We had our first experience going to a bank guarded by men with automatic rifles, nestled in a beautifully manicured outdoor mall complex. We took in Playa Tamarindo and were now on the way to Playa Conchal.

The Search for Playa Conchal

Playa Conchal was the jewel of our intrepid jaunt. It is near a small town and a perfectly ordinary beach, separated and hidden by a hilly mound. What makes it special is the sand that isn’t like sand at all. It is hundreds of millions of shell pieces, ground smooth by the forces of physics, but still all uniquely shells. A protected stretch of coast covered in tiny, smooth shells. And, at least in 2010, it was stupid hard to find.

We had circled Brasilito’s square a few times. We could see Playa Brasilito clearly, but per Nat Geo’s map there was a road south to Playa Conchal that simply did not exist. Bestie suggested that maybe the map was wrong and I gave her the don’t-mess-with-me-and-Nat-Geo look that did not need words after 10 years of friendship. No signs. So we circled around the square again. Bestie was busy laughing and dodging the 6 chickens that just didn’t want to get out of the road. There was a man working on the roof of a home, behind a stucco wall. We stopped on the dirt road and I popped out of the door.

“Por favor, lo siento, Senor. Pero, donde es Playa Conchal?” YEEEESSSS!!!! 3 years of rudimentary Spanish you WERE in there somewhere! (Please, sorry, sir. But where is Playa Conchal?)

He said something rapidly in Spanish. (Well, crap. I got cocky.)

“Lo siento, pero….yo no se.” (Sorry, but…I don’t know.)

He reappraised us and smiled and sighed. He pointed towards the beach. “Playa Brasilito.”

“Si.”

He made a dramatic hand motion to the left in case my sight was as poor as my Spanish (and it is without contacts.) “Playa Conchal.”

What? Where? Oh wait….uhhhhhh…argh what is that word? “Playa es camino?” (Beach is road?) Or at least I hope that it what I said.

“Si, playa es camino. Si. Vaya. Vaya!” (Yes, the beach is the way. Yes, go. Go!)

He was almost as excited as we were, this kind man who was trying to talk as slowly and simply as possible for us. His “go” was not hostile, not angry, but celebratory with a pinch of relief that we would move on. We were giddy. Fearless and conquering, we faced the beach/road.

We’re from Kansas. We don’t have experience driving on sand. But we do know a good bit about getting a car stuck. Not sure if the Yaris could handle it we finally said screw it and Thelma and Louise’d that Go-Cart over the proverbial cliff.

The Pull of Playa Conchal

The beach was indeed the road, leading up and over the mound to Playa Conchal. Some friendly and insistent gentleman pointed to the sign to pay to park. Actually, it was a few dollars for these gentlemen to “protect your car”, but Playa Tamarindo had introduced us to this and we went with the custom. It was worth it. Playa Conchal had clean, cerulean water and those gorgeous shells.

Of course, it did bring a bit of danger. I went out to swim and got caught in a nasty pulling tide right at the shelf of the beach. The beach floor had dropped suddenly, sucking out hard with each wave retraction. I flipped bum over head and laughed. The second time Bestie was laughing but I was a little miffed. The third time I got serious and put in some real strokes, getting my feet back down on the right side of the beach floor drop-off with a swimsuit full of sand. Thanks again, Mom and Dad, for the swim lessons.

Lying out on those shells in that hot sun after a few flips was one of those moments when your mind quiets and you just are so aware and removed at the same time. That deep sense of peace when I get to face myself and know that right now, I am just fine. Not just here on this trip, but everything before, including the heartbreaks and defeats, led to right here. And it’s just fine.

The Lesson to this Costa Rica Story

I wrote this in 2017. That week leaders of nations threatened each other with nuclear war. People marched with fiery tiki torches to scream their hate under the guise of a statue’s removal. Governments were overturning. Several wars raged brutally on, even if their familiarity drowned them down to white noise on our feeds. As I said then, really, other than the technology, none of these things are new. Unfortunately, the world has seen them before and even more unfortunately, we likely will again.  

Here we are now , in the midst of a pandemic, political unrest and terrorism, and reckoning with centuries of systemic racism. As it has before, fear, our most primal, our most mocked, and our least acknowledged motivator leads humanity down the same paths, over and over. And, like we always do when we are threatened, we divide. It becomes us versus them and we covet resources. We close up. We shut out. Smaller and smaller and smaller.

Marie Curie said nothing in life is to be feared, only to be understood. And while I can understand the plot of the movie Insidious but still be terrified, I get what she was saying. When we travel, near or far, we learn something new. We understand new ways of thinking, of being. Without even trying hard we can absorb new information. We expose ourselves to others’ experiences and our root commonalities. And what is learned cannot be unlearned.

I’m not an idiot. Contrary to Hubs’s opinion there are places in the world I would not go right now. I am fully aware that bad things can happen on trips.  Yet, I’m also under few illusions about the ultimate safety of my own home. Privilege is not immunity. Geography is not a guarantee. We have much more to fear when we refuse to acknowledge the shadows we each carry around. Psychiatrist Carl Jung knew it. Author William Golding knew it. Fictional Jedi Yoda knew it. Out in the world (virtually or pandemic safely of course), with eyes wide open, facing our fear is the only way to move forward.

My point is that if two young women, from the middle of the US, without fluent native language can not only survive but enjoy a week abroad, the odds are great that you can too. Sure, the naysayers could have been right. Instead of our unexpected taxi ride ending peacefully, we could have been robbed or assaulted. Helpful locals could have been nefarious.  Instead of flipping and laughing and timing the pull right and swimming to the beach, I could have drowned or been pulled into some new waters and eaten. And there was a chance that we wouldn’t have found that beach, getting lost, or stuck, or kidnapped, or pulled over and blackmailed. Those could have happened. They didn’t.

Instead, we healed.  Don’t let fear of the world cage you. Fear can’t win. Fear of others, fear of what-ifs, fear of ourselves. We must move forward. In whatever way is yours, travel or otherwise, face it. And win. Si. Esto es el camino. Vaya.

May the road rise to meet you travelers, and may even the sandy ones see you through.

The famous Nat Geo map that WAS actually right.

Ready for your own Costa Rica story but worried about the price tag? Never fear! I’m a big believer in travel points and the most flexible way to go is with Southwest points. Take these tips on getting a good deal on airfare, earning and using points, finding upgrades, finding the right hotel or scoring good hotel deals in expensive places/events. Hit the road!