A Blog for Something Really Important: Puntarenas

We’re still in sight of the coast of Panama on the evening of the transit of the Canal, but I have no idea about the distant coast that hazily greets us the next morning. Maybe it's still Panama, I may go look at the ship's locator if I remember to check. It is our fourth day of our cruise and we are relaxing just like they show in the brochures. A lazy breakfast in the dining room and an easy stroll through the ship to see if we have overlooked anything. We end up propping ourselves in deck chairs in the morning sunshine. Everyone is recovering from the canal experience and there isn’t a camera to be seen. Except mine, of course, but then I’m an addict.

If pleasant sea days are your thing, this cruise on "Mar Pacifico" is right up your alley. Ferdinand Magellan named this the peaceful sea back in 1540, and I’ll second it, but, then again this is only our second day out here and we haven’t been out of sight of land since leaving the Panama Canal. But I must be honest, I expected rougher seas than we’ve seen since sailing up the coast of central America. The other thing that surprises me is the floating trash. It seems we have been sailing through a real sea of garbage ever since we turned right just after leaving the Canal. Sea birds rest on trash that clumps together, and plastic is everywhere. This is only our seventh voyage, all in the Caribbean from Florida to Aruba, including the Leewards and Windwards except for Barbados, and we’ve never seen anything like the crap floating in the Pacific off the coast of Panama.

I’m fascinated by the boobies that seem to follow me wherever I cruise. Usually they are brown, but over here in the Pacific they are white. Well, white with black wing tips. I’m talking about the huge sea birds that seem to follow every cruise ship I’ve been on in this neck of the world in case your mind has wandered off somewhere. A fellow passenger tells me they are Nazca Boobies, and they are everywhere. They fly alongside the ship at eye level and occasionally look at me as if they are as curious about me as I am about them. They have a wing span of about five feet, but they don’t look that big until they get close to you.

The fifth day and again, I'm up before daybreak, wandering around a very quiet ship. We are barely moving toward the hills of Costa Rica as the sun breaks over the horizon. The Pacific ocean is as calm as a big lake.

We dock silently as the sun finally rises in the clear blue morning sky, and our silence is immediately interrupted by the parade of big tour buses coming out the pier in reverse. They are backing up all the way, single file, each with its loud warning beeper or horn blaring the entire length of the long, concrete pier. Time for breakfast

We walk through the ship on our way to the gang plank and are astonished at how empty the ship is. There seems to be no one onboard but us. Since there were only eight buses, now departed, I assume most people simply walked into town, but the pier is also mostly empty.

The area is perhaps one of the prettiest we’ve seen. This was at one time only a small fishing pier but now is a dedicated cruise stop, not just a commercial dock pressed into unwanted service. A single pier extends from the small but modern welcome area, and the locals seem to be as welcome as we are, just not on the pier itself.

A woman is standing on the seawall, posing like a figurehead or a model. Dressed in a short red dress, she strikes various provocative poses while her partner snaps photos of her from all different angles. She is totally unperturbed by the cruise ship passengers who stare at her with puzzled looks.

We stop and study a large map of the small town. It appears to be located on a peninsula, and we decide to check out several items of interest. We stop in a local shop and I buy a new straw hat. The price tag is 10,000 CRC, Costa Rican Colones, and I wonder if they take US dollars. No problem, the well dressed young man, just returned from Miami, gladly accepts my twelve US dollars. We chat for ten minutes or so, especially after I tell him I grew up in Miami, and directs us to the closest store to pick up suntan lotion.

We wander around town, going to the bay on the other side before heading back toward the ship. What was once a pretty town is in a sad state of disrepair. The town has seen better times. It appears COVID may have hit the economy here hard as many once attractive storefronts are decaying and no one seems to care. The economic blight is everywhere, especially those buildings and businesses that once apparently catered to tourists. I’m sure there are many sights to be seen here as the location is one of the prettiest we’ve seen.

On our return to the pier, we again meet Del and Cynthia, carrying their ever present backpacks and water bottles, and decide to jointly check out an attraction just south of town that Del has found marked on a tourist brochure. Our sojourn is short lived as the building is not only abandoned, it is damaged and roofless. Time for a break before dinner so we slowly head back to the nearby ship.

After another great meal in the dining room, we catch the show in the ship’s theater. It doesn’t take long for tired feet and tired muscles take over and we are soon back in the cabin, sound asleep.