Tamarindo - Costa Rica

Not originally part of my Costa Rican itinerary -- many independent travelers find it to be an overdeveloped tourist trap -- I opted to go to Tamarindo because a) Patrik, my Swedish surfing companion was looking for good waves and b) I, hearing they had a good stock of fish and sailboats, was looking for a job as a first mate. Additionally, I had visited Tamarindo on a family vacation two years before and wanted to see how it had changed in that time. Boy, had it.

When our dust filled bus rolled out of the foothills to the shoreline of Tamrindo with the last rays of sun disappeared over the horizon, I could see though the shadows and twilight that this was an entirely different place from what I remembered. Where mom and pop shops once lined the road leading into town now stood small mini malls and souvenir shops. Where once stood local restaurants sampling local flavors, now were American food chains like Pizza Hut, Burger King, and TCBY. I could see why backpackers and ecotourists would be turned off by this town´s blatant sell out to American Imperialism. And, along with this influx of conglomerates and high rise condos, crime and prostitution have also infiltrated the town. It leaves you wondering why the locals would allow this to happen.

But its not that simple, and many who live in Tamrindo, natives and transplants alike, are up in arms fighting developers to try and save what little of its previous charm remains. Many Gringos who live here, most of whom for over 20 years, are all part of local boards and community groups trying to stay this over-development. But, I'm afraid to say, they have little chance against the powers of Western money which the Costa Rican government welcomes with open greedy arms.

As a traveler however, Tamarindo is not that bad. There is a steady flow of young parting tourists and plenty of places to get a drink and with deluge of eatetiers, you get an abundence of choices at competitive prices. Plus, with a decent beach, and host of cheap apartment and room rentals, I thought this would be a good place, in spite of all its Americanisms, to settle in for a few weeks and find a job. I had asperations of becoming a deckhand or mate on a local fishing boat for a few weeks. That would prove to be a lot harder then I thought.

I spent the better part of two weeks looking for work without success. I would go down to the 'docks' in the early mornings trying to talk my way onto a boat but, being the middle of the high season, the captains already had there crew and didn't have time to train a new recruit. In town, there was a bunch of restaurants and bars but they couldn't hire you unless you had working papers, a thing unobtainable unless you lived in Costa Rica for two years or married a Tica girl, both of which I was not prepared to do. So, I waited. I sat around on my ass waiting for something to fall into my lap. I'd play in the local poker tournaments (a serious venture here since they send one lucky qualifier to the world seriers of poker every year. I'd fish though I had to pay for it., I'd party with Partik and a big group of friends at the hostel. I basically became a beach bum.

Finally, after two weeks, I had had enough and wanted to leave. But, the night before I was going to take off, I ran into the owner of a local bar. His name was Pablo and I had met him at a poker tournament at his establishment the week before. He had perviously told me he knew a few people who might need help on their boats and he would look into it for me. Not really caring at this point anyway I asked him if he had found anyone. He told me that he hadn't talked with them yet but he had some maintenance work he needed done around the bar, cleaning gutters, scrubbing patios, ext. and I could do it as long as I didn't mind earning Tico wages ($1.50 hr). Hell yes I minded. I didn't want to do hard labor in the hot Costa Rican sun for next to nothing. At the same time, I didn't want to be rude or seem snobby so I agreed to come by the following morning. It turned out to be the best carreer move I made since I'd been there.

Fist of all, it was a suprisingly great feeling to actually be working, forget the fact that it was for less then it cost to write to you now, it was work. Doing something productive and getting paid for it was a feeling I had long since forgotten. I found myself whistling while I fought off Iguanas on his rooftop, humming along with the radio as I scrubbed, and re-scrubbed his sap stained patio. Genuinely happy as I raked up his scorpion and fire ant infested leaves. It was great!

As I was raking the last of the leaves into a bag, he came out and told me that he had just got off the phone with one of his friends who owns a sailboat and he indeed needed an extra hand and I had the job if I wanted it. If I wanted it??! I tried to contain my excitement and said that sounded like it would be cool or whatever and was the happiest guy in the world. To top it off, after work, as a token of my appreciation I washed his car for free!

So the moral of this story is, if you sit around on your ass long enough, something good will eventually fall into your lap!