After a noisy first night in San Jose, we caught a bus for La Fortuna de San Carlos. We learned very quickly to never assume a bus is direct as we stopped about every ten miles. Thrilled to be finally starting our travels outside of the city, we amused ourselves with people watching and enjoyed the view. Luckily we had seats for the four-hour ride up and down narrow roads north through the hills.

The bus stop in La Fortuna is in the center of the town and it was very easy to get our bearings. Arenal Volcano National Park is the main attraction of the town and was easy to spot even though the peak was clouded over. We shouldered our packs and set off to find lodging. After asking for prices and looking at some rooms we settled into a clean double on the main road that was the best deal for our budget.

Imperial rider, showing off the national favorite beer

Returning to the hotel after a lunch of rice and beans we noticed a commotion. Hundreds of riders on horseback were assembling at one end of the town. A parade began, including riders of all ages. A radio van with huge speakers played music that the horses seemed to dance to in a riding style called dressage. The animals lifted their legs up in time with the beat as they moved down the street, combining the sound of hooves with the music and cheers of the crowd. As they got closer, we noticed they all had numbers on their backs for an event sponsored by the national favorite, Imperial Beer.

When I saw a rider with a plastic cup in his hand I was a little surprised until I realized that almost all of them were drinking beer (except for the children on ponies). That's when I noticed some of the horses getting a little wild, or perhaps it was the riders. Cans were being thrown to riders and poured by bystanders into the participant's cups. The whole parade probably lasted half an hour but there were many stragglers and riders who continued to drink cerveza on horseback while the police made a half-hearted attempt to drive through. Suddenly it was quiet and people drifted back into their homes.

Vaquerito - little cowboy

We returned back to our hotel and inquired about the parade. We learned that we were in town for the start of the Fiestas Grandiosas, to celebrate...well, just to celebrate. Apparently, Tico's (Costa Rican's) love a good party. After learning about the accompanying carnival we wandered over for a quick look. There were tents for food, rides for children and adults, dance floors, and a small wooden stadium. We rushed back to the hotel to meet our guide for the Volcano lookout.

With several other travelers we rode up the bumpy rode in a mini bus to the lookout right before dusk. The peak was still cloudy, but we had been warned about this possibility before. It did clear a little and we saw lava steaming. Our guide pointed out wild turkeys and lightning bugs and told tales of his jungle skills. After the sun set, we watched glowing red lava flow down the dark mountain and heard a very loud explosion.

I was looking forward to hot springs fed by the magma of Arenal yet Amy was wary because of a previous experience with fat, old, naked men. We were both pleasantly surprised with the natural landscaping and the other travelers. Ferns surrounded five pools of different temperatures and a sauna. We tried out each section with our least favorite being the coldest. We only lasted a few minutes in the hottest pool at 150°F - bearable as long as we didn't try to move.

In the middle pool was a swim up bar where we chatted with a guy from our hotel. Jeff was enjoying his travels after graduating from college and looking for a job as a raft guide. The three of us all enjoyed the taste of the local beer, so I knew we'd have fun together. Many people recommended the Volcano Discotheque to us but we heard rumors of a more exotic event - a bullfight.

Jeff, Amy, and I walked to the carnival, which was all lit up and filled with Ticos. We sat down in the stadium to watch some traditional entertainment. Amy, a vegetarian, was not very excited but we quickly learned that in Costa Rica they don't hurt the animals as they do in Spain or Mexico. The floppy eared, skinny bulls were actually afraid of the bullfighters and could rarely be convinced to charge. We ate corn on the cob with butter running down our chins after the rodeo events were over.

There were three dance floors and one was charging a cover, so there were two options in our minds. My experience with dancing at home was nothing like this. The style of music was Cumbia and amorous couples soon surrounded the three of us. There wasn't grinding but there were many public displays of affection. A song about love and a guillotine played loudly as we tried to follow the steps. I was in awe of the locals - Ticos can really dance. One young Latin lady showed Jeff the dance while Amy and I attracted the attention of a horny, drunk American. He was old enough to be our father and drunk enough not to care but he quickly wandered away. Thankfully, he was the only one we saw the entire trip.

After dancing for almost an hour we took a walk around the carnival grounds. We stopped and watched the mechanical bull and joked again that one of us had to try. I asked for the price, which was 400 colónes, and with our encouragement Jeff stepped into line. We cheered loudly for Jeff and he lasted for ten seconds before being thrown off, about the average for all the riders. Because he was so tall he could not hook his feet around the horns and hold on the way the locals did. He still has scars from where his legs rubbed against the plastic horns to remind him of this night. Amy and I debated a ride for ourselves but the lack of other women trying it and the skirts we were wearing made us to decide to save bull riding for another time.

We made our way to a dance floor with a younger crowd and were immediately rushed by many people trying to avoid a fight. The group settled down quickly and we began dancing to music that was more familiar but none of the songs we knew. I began to wonder what the Spanish lyrics would translate to after hearing a song in English that repeated, "take your clothes off, take your clothes off." Instead of the partner style there were groups of young people dancing to this eclectic mix.

Volcano Arenal in the background with unorganized riders at the end of the parade

After a long night at the carnival we strolled down the main street. There were no horses to be seen at this time but we did pass a very inviting pool at a nice hotel. Our budget establishment was lacking in this area so we quickly changed into our bathing suits with our clothes on top. We walked back to the inviting courtyard, stripped off our outer layer and dove in. The cool water felt great after a night of dancing. After paddling around for a while, we decided it was time for bed at almost three in the morning. We didn't want to get our clothes wet so we walked back in our suits. I held my long, flared skirt in front of me as if preparing for a charging bull.

In many of my travels I try to align my trip with huge festivals and events. Rarely does this happen and I often feel that I missed out on something. On this trip, we left early the next morning and never even saw the peak of Volcan Arenal. Yet, I have some great memories of a small town fiesta that I will never forget.

Questions?
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