Saturday, March 31, 2012

Puerto Viejo, Rockin n Rollin town of freedom

After living in Costa Rica for about a year working as a commercial ultralight pilot in a little town called Samara on the Pacific Coast, I decided to find a new place to call home. I took to the road on my motorcycle and did a complete loop of Costa Rica. I was always some kind of Hippie artist at heart. I really felt I was more of a Carribean side kind of dude. Where life was slow and easy. On my journey, around this spectacular paradise i found all kind of interesting little towns. Each with it's own unique little flair. Fishing villages, cocaine fueled party towns, surf towns, farming villages, gringo infested towns, places where white people are not welcome and places full of criminals and drop outs from God knows where.


While I was traveling, I had heard of a rasta surf town called Puerto Viejo. There were also rumors of this crazy party hostel called Rockin J's that rented tents and hammoks on the beach. Some of the people that recognized the type of person, I appeared to be, kept telling me to go there. They said I'd love it.


I rolled into the town with an unexpecting sort of expectation. As I turned the corner of black beach, the energy was apparent and almost physical. Me and my Honda dual purpose motorcycle purred slowly into town.I pulled up to what I now know as Mango's Sunset which has an old sign that says "Sunset Sports Bar... 'a sunny place for shady people.'" In fact as I write this... I'm sitting on the illustrious Carrie Alexender's porch staring at it 4 years later. I pulled to the side of the road and asked an old Rasta with dreads like the Lion from "The Wizard of OZ" where the hammock hostel was. He pointed in the direction of the infamous hostel. I rolled into the gates that had massive steel dragons flanking it. I was greeted by a Mohawked Madman named Erik, Rocking J's brother, upon entering the hostel. I was wide eyed dragging my backpack and camping gear.


I told them I'd be staying 3 days and that I needed a tent. For the record, I stayed for 45 days instead of 3. As I stood at the reception area I did a 360 slow rotation of my body and head. This place was magical. Every square inch was covered in mosaic tile work and paintings. There was a main hall with no walls with 2 rows of 50 or so hammocks. It had an almost Morrocon feel that some hippy decorated with art and weird artifacts. There were musicians, artists, freaks, squares, young people, old people, buddhists, Devils, Gods, atheists, and beautiful bikini clad women from all over the world. I stored my gear in a huge locker. I found my tent. It was upstairs in a giant open air sleeping area with 30 other tents. This place was visually overwhelming. The music and smell of marijuana was in the air. I wandered the campus reading all the mosaics from travelers far and wide. It was completely over stimulating for my eyes and other senses as well. There were people swinging side by side in hammocks passing joints. It was like the 60's or maybe an early 70's Key West. I had always dreamed about a town like this as a kid.


I made my way to the beach out the back gate. About 40 meters behind the hostel was the most tranquil beach with gently lapping blue water and what appear to be a reef right up to the edge of the water. I sat there by myself just meditating and trying to be quiet as the waves rolled in softly. There was a sense of freedom and bohemianism was blooming everywhere.


I got on my motorcycle and went for a short tour of the town. I glided leisurely along the jungle road. The beach view 'pica a booed' in and out of sight through the palms trees. There were no big hotels, gas stations or fast food places. The fantasy like paradise road lead me from one secluded beach to another. When I road back to Puerto Viejo looking for a beer and some food, I noticed the people were rastas, surfers, tourists, and a pretty much even swirl of every color from every place. I stopped at Tex Mex, which, I now realize, sits on the edge of the Vortex. The Vortex is a term I used to define the epi center of all the activity and energy in this amazing town. The beer was over priced and the service slow, but that's expected behavior in Costa Rica. There was always the smell of weed in town here and there. As a first time visitor I was cat called by rastas in the shadows peddling pot and cocaine.


It was a small town with the obvious drop outs, freaks, and artists. There weren't many cars mostly bicycles and motorcycles. There wasn't a gas station, Mc Donald's, Starbucks or Holiday Inn. Few buildings were over 2 stories high. The town looked as I imagined a bohemian artist town on the Carribean should look in my mind's eye. It was and is a beautiful picturesque paradise. This place is on fire with creativity and free spirited cultural. As I learned more about this place I began to realize it was a booming musical geiser. A town full of yet to be famous rockstars, painters, philosophers, freaks, eccentrics and weirdos. Everyone I met seemed to be one of the best at what they did, but decided to create a new life and cultural on a beautiful beach away from the "normals" aka humans. I was home. I predict in the next 24 months this will be one of the most famous musical towns in rock n roll history. I believe in it so much I built a free recording studio. If you are such a person, visit this place soon before the corporate tyrants exploit and ruin it. Tell them the Devil sent you. Paradise on earth welcomes you.