Costa Rican People Make It a Place to Smile About

If you haven’t heard much from Costa Rica lately, chances are you will. Every Lacsa Airlines plane is loaded with passengers hefting stereo “boom boxes” as big as their suitcases. If they all choose the same time to punch in a cassette of Costa Rica’s favorite group, La Banda, pounding out their hit, “La Bispa,” the country might explode.

If it did explode, it could easily be into a big smile. Costa Ricans have found the fountain of happiness. Store clerks don’t hassle, pretty ladies smile without flirting and little girls skip happily along holding their arms out so they won’t wrinkle their dresses.

Happy sounds fill the air: Kids playing “London Bridge Is Falling Down,” strollers gossiping in the shade of leafy eucalyptus, old folks on iron benches talking low and church bells ringing calmly.

Traditional Walk-Around

Even love has a sound, and visitors are welcome to listen in. That’s in the evenings when ticos (young men) gather in the plazas and do their traditional walk-around. The ticos circle one way and the ticas (young women), who seem to arrive with fireflies, circle the other.

Ticos are macho and will even yelp like poodles to help their image. Ticas laugh shyly. With their golden skin, soft brown eyes and silky black hair, they move like flowing water. There’s lots of heavy eye contact and romance could be coming around the next statue.

Such a romance peaked one balmy night in the little town of Sarchi. Conditions were ideal. It was clear. Stars winked down. A slice of moon was curled in the sky. The musky smell of jacaranda blossoms sweetened the air. A smitten tico , who had weathered a well-chaperoned courtship, led his friends down a dusty street. At his tica’s house, her friends filled the roadway.

Right on cue she appeared. Her colorful skirt was as bright as the town’s famous hand-painted ox carts. She was in for her “serenade,” the lifetime dream of every girl. What happened next were precious moments for everyone as she was treated to a chorus of her favorite love songs.

The serenade faded away when the happy groom-to-be stepped toward his beloved, who was teary-eyed with joy, and with his arms reaching toward her, sang “Novia Mia” (my bride).

One sound you won’t hear are the guns of war. Years ago, folk-hero President Jose (Pepe) Figueres got rid of the army. “We’ll use the money to have a church, a school and a soccer field in every village,” Figueres declared. (Costa Rica has more teachers than cops.)

Even today there’s still no army, and current President Oscar Arias Sanchez, who won last year’s Nobel Peace Prize, swears that no Costa Rican child will “ever hear a cannon.” The dove of peace is the symbol of their nonexistent air force. It’s on the hottest selling T-shirt in town.

Locals still remember with pride, during Figueres’ reign, when the hijacking of a plane was taking place. As commander in chief of a nonexistent army, “Pepe” was alerted. He jumped into his car and roared off to the airport.

Waving everyone away, he gave an angry tug on his mustache and headed straight toward the plane. Close enough to be recognized, he stopped. He pulled out an old .45 and started shooting out tires and popping holes in the tail. The troublemakers started falling all over each other, giving up before he really got mad.

Best Chunks of Countries

Texas. It’s as if someone bought the best chunks of a lot of countries and stuck them together. On both coasts are long, lovely stretches of lonely, creamy beaches shaded by royal palms and clumps of yellow-trunked banana trees. Warm, jade-colored water invites you to float away with your dreams.

Small Resort Villages

It’s pure Hawaii of a hundred years ago. Miles apart, small resort villages such as Quepos, with its vintage wicker-chaired Mariposa Hotel, seem to be the perfect cure for stress.

A typical middle-aged runaway, Ted Upton, the Mariposa’s owner, got the message after one visit. He moved to the fishing port of Caldero on the Caribbean. “Before,” he said with a grin, “I lived in what I thought was an empty space on the Florida Keys. I got rear-ended four times in a month. That was enough.”

Upton reverted to his childhood, which was spent in the dusty hollows of Tennessee, where, he says, “shoes were for weddings.” Barefoot again, he lives contentedly by the sea with a pretty tica that he married. He also goes topless. Upton allows, without regret, that he looked a lot sharper when he was a successful textile executive in a three-piece suit.

Upton’s house is on a lush green hill that slopes down to the water. A path winds around to his “exclusive” fishing lodge, which is made mostly of driftwood. The bar is a collection of bottles on the kitchen table. The kitchen also serves as the dining room, lounge and library. Sagging canvas chairs and three cots complete the decor.

Guests never complain, though. They’re happy with the deal. Board and room plus catching tarpon costs all of $37.50 a day.

Costa Rica’s interior is memorable, particularly the Monteverde cloud forest, which is so wet and dense that the sky is blanked out and limbs drop roots 50 feet to the ground for support and nourishment. Trails are so slippery that they never dry out, and the only footing is patches of chicken wire nailed to split logs.

The park is supervised by some Quakers from Alabama, who gladly guide visitors and point out such rarities as the bare-necked umbrella bird, black guans, turquoise ants, 600-pound tapirs and jaguars.

Howler monkeys try to hit you with nuts. If you’re lucky you’ll see and hear a rare quetzal bird singing about how its green, red and white feathers make it the most beautiful bird in all the Americas.

The Golden Toad

A sentimental favorite is sapito dorado, the golden toad who would make Kermit proud and drive Miss Piggy crazy. A very romantic fellow, it’s said he will hug his sweetheart for as long as six months at a time without losing interest.

No matter how you travel (via buses, taxis or trains), you can go from one end of the country to the other for about $10 U.S. The clean little towns are more reminders of old Hawaii. Houses are small, box-like and brightly painted in green, yellow, blue, purple and all mixtures in between. Most have packed dirt floors shining like ebony. Gardens are everywhere, and there are flowers in windows, yards and blooming in tin cans sitting on roof tops. Costa Ricans’ idea of graffiti is to paint roses on their walls.

At every stop on the narrow-gauge train from San Jose to Limon, kids run alongside clutching small bouquets. If you don’t want to buy, that’s OK, they’ll smile and give you one. Ticas even glue petals to their fingernails instead of using polish.

Costa Ricans believe in their siesta time, which lets them play by night. What to do is no problem. San Jose, the capital, has many discos and bistros. A good starting place is the Pueblo, a gaily lit jumble of stores, eateries and nightclubs. One of the wildest pit stops is the Infinity Disco, where three bands deafen you at the same time. That’s where you discover if you have rhythm.

Touring in Costa Rica is pleasant. Prices are a real bargain. First-class hotels such as the Corobici cost around $60 U.S. a night for a double, $45 single. Dinner with wine for a couple is about $20.

If you can survive on three beers a day it will cost 90 cents to stay alive, because every beer is served with beans and chips.

The Gran Hotel Costa Rica, in the center of San Jose, reminds many travelers of a Paris hotel. The price for two is about $50 a night. Lunching under its canopied patio is a real tranquilizer for the senses.

Across the street is another Parisian-like structure, the National Theater, topped by winged marble statues symbolizing dance, music and fame.

The National’s stage is a wonder. From a gloomy basement it is raised and lowered by a huge wooden corkscrew that takes 12 weightlifters to pole it around. Quasimodo would have loved it.

More than 30,000 Americans have found Costa Rica a great place to live and a real bargain. An income of $600 a month is enough for a resident’s permit. Comfortable apartments go for as little as $150 a month. A luxury three-bedroom house in a fancy suburb such as Escazu, where the American Embassy is, can be had for $40,000. Carpenters are $1 an hour and a banana is a penny. Quepos and other beach resort areas offer four-bedroom houses on a beach for $80,000.

Real Estate Is Big

Americans can make a living in Costa Rica, too. Real estate is big. Dreamers like David and Cecila Reid arrived 14 years ago in Puntarenas, a sleepy fishing village by the Pacific. She cooked. He worked on boats. Now they have a house on the beach and own the tour boat Calypso, which has been stretched from 30 to 60 feet and is still growing.

They ferry tourists to Robinson Crusoe-type islands for picnics, skin diving and drinking Coco-Locos, an inspired potion made from knocking a hole in a coconut, spilling out half the milk and topping it off with rum. Says David Reid, holding a glass: “To your taste or your tolerance, whichever comes first.”

Americans who come here claim that they’ve found a cheap ticket to heaven.

For more information on travel to Costa Rica, contact the Costa Rica Tourist Board, 3540 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 707, Los Angeles 90010, (213) 382-8080.