Rio Frio

19 June 2009




We cross the border today, upstream rio Frio into Costa Rica. First, we need the exit stamps from the Nicaraguan Immigration in San Carlos. In the wooden building (shack), we make sure we get all the necessary stamps. We pay two dollars, and a lady types up a receipt on an old typewriter. She's a very fast typer though. The immigration officer is thrilled to learn that Natasha is from Suriname (he enquired about the Surinamese Visa in her passport). Our boat (a large wooden canoe really) leaves directly from the dock of the immigration office.


All passengers on board of this barge are locals, except for one other tourist couple: John and Kate who camped on the deck on the ferry yesterday. The cruise on the river is very scenic. Again, lots of water birds. We can often spot monkeys in the trees that line the shore. Most of them are just relaxing on a branch and hardly take note of us passing by on the river.


At some point, the engine of the boat fails, and we drift downstream i.e. the wrong direction. We enjoy the silence - the locals are less thrilled. However, after a little while, the boatmen manage to fix the engine and we continue our journey.


We pass a Nicaraguan military post. The soldiers enter the boat and check handbags - not suitcases. The passing of the boat must be their only activity for the day. I'd like to take a picture of this isolated post, but, as a rule, we don't take pictures of men with big guns.


Towards the end of the journey, we pass some fancy tourist boats from Costa Rican tour operators which have started to make use of the river. In fact, Costa Rica is nowadays pushing for more river access into Nicaragua for their rapidly growing tourism industry, not only on Rio Frio but also in Rio San Juan. However, more boats mean less monkeys.

The Costa Rican border town Los Chilles surprises us in its lack of infrastructure. Upon arrival at the shore, the passengers of our barge line up in a parking lot where what looks like plain clothes officials check the luggage. They seem to focus on the Nicas and wave us through.


We follow the only road and soon a young man behind a desk on the roadside yells: he asks if we come from Nicaragua. We pay two dollars and get a receipt. He tells us to drop in the immigration office further up the road. Sure enough, after a few minutes we come by a hut - if we would not have looked out for it, we would not have noticed that this wooden hut is the Costa Rican immigration. No uniforms here either: two girls in tank tops stamp our passports.


There's nothing happening in this town. Best thing to leave as fast as possible. I change my last Nicaraguan Cordobas (worth about 3 USD) into CR Colones. A man leads me to a group of very dodgy men playing poker under a tree behind the bus station - one of them changes my cash. As opposed to Nicaragua, the money changers here definitely don't wear badges.


We board the bus to Tilaran where we'll spend the night.