In some ways, Costa Rica can appear to be the Disneyland of Central America. Safe, comfortable, and expensive, tourists want to visit the region without the fear of corruption, crime, or civil unrest that can appear without warning in neighbouring countries. For many, it's a journey into a lush exotic adventure playground packaged in bubble-wrap to prevent any breakages.
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Of course, it would be foolish to think that Costa Rica is crime-free. It is certainly more stable and secure than most of the region, but you'll still find, for example, major hotels in the capital San Jose with signs warning of possible scams and attacks.
"If you have a flat tire on the road, don't stop to fix it - drive to a safe place first," is one that I see.
Tourists don't want to worry about this, though. They want to see the national parks, the wildlife, the beaches, and the culture without always being reminded of the dark side. For most, this is a holiday - and a holiday should be all sunshine.
The problem is that to protect the visitors from worry, quite often the solution is to keep them away from the real Costa Rica. An artificial construction of the country is built within controlled environs and presented as reality. It's why on this Easter weekend, I thought I would tell you the tale of two chocolates, the first one sugar-coated.
I discover this first chocolate tale at the Tirimbina Rainforest Center in the country's northeast. As well as offering accommodation and tours through the forest, it's also an educational centre that shows people the history and culture of the country. Chocolate is a large part of that, something that's been grown, produced, and eaten in this area for generations. It's included in rituals and traditions that go back far beyond the arrival of Europeans.
And so, Tirimbina hosts two "chocolate tours" every day that show visitors (usually either hotel guests or tours arriving on buses) the story of the cacao plant. Joining a group, I walk across a large suspension bridge through the rainforest to a hut on an old cacao-growing plot. Once seated, the guide spends almost two hours showing us the history of chocolate and how it is turned from beans into the substance we know today. Some people will get to help grind it or flavour it. Everyone will get to taste it.
The tour demonstrates the traditional production methods native to Costa Rica and the guide is energetic and engaging, with a slick presentation and interesting information. In many ways, it is a very well done tour ... except it could be done anywhere. The guide is not a chocolate maker, chocolate has not been harvested or produced here for years, there is nothing here related to chocolate that is not sitting on the table in the hut.
The tour, however, is safe. It gives tourists an insight into a cultural aspect of Costa Rica without them having to interact with the real Costa Rica or leave the controlled grounds of the centre. It is a taste of the country as a pit stop for a tour bus.
Compare that to the second chocolate tale, which takes place the next day when I visit the indigenous Bribri community at the Yorkin Reserve, about 150 kilometres south, along Costa Rica's border with Panama. After taking a wooden canoe along a river through dense jungle, I'm able to spend the whole day in the village with the Bribri people, who have created an ecotourism experience to share their culture and earn revenue to support their traditional lifestyle.
In the afternoon, after joining a family in their home for a lunch of local produce (lentils, fried ferns, boiled palm, and tropical pumpkin), it's time for a chocolate demonstration. Here in the Bribri community, it's the women who make the chocolate. It's a matriarchal society and this has always been their role, the production of chocolate seen as an almost sacred ritual. So, I watch as the mother of the family who has just prepared my lunch begins a process she has done many times before, like her mother and grandmother before her.
For as long as anyone can remember, the indigenous tribes in this region have harvested the cacao and made chocolate. Even today they eat it as a special food, although most of what they collect is sold to earn a living (the raw beans fetching about a dollar a kilo).
So, although there is nothing flashy about the chocolate demonstration as language barriers mean conversation is short and through a translator, I find this to be such a meaningful experience, watching someone in their own home perform a ceremony their community has done for generations with beans collected a short walk away.
In this tale of two chocolates, both experiences effectively showed me exactly the same thing. In fact, I probably learned more from the demonstration at Tirimbina because the guide was practised at explaining the background in English and it was much more detailed.
Yet it was with the woman from the Bribri tribe that I felt more connected and more involved in an authentic act.
I wonder if tourists to Costa Rica who are dropped by their bus at "education centres" realise what's happening. If they knew of the options beyond the border of their pre-packaged reality, would they be more interested in exploring them? Or perhaps tourists to the country know what they are being presented with and don't mind - it's still a fun holiday and the risk of something going wrong has been eliminated.
If you go to Disneyland, you expect Disneyland. But there are plenty of ways to step outside and see a different type of magical kingdom.
- You can see more about visiting Costa Rica's Bribri community on Michael's Time Travel Turtle website.