Author Archives: Steve Walker

About Steve Walker

Once a tech in-house PR type, now professional photo/videographer and recreational drone pilot. Violinist. Flautist. Occasional conductor. Oenophile.

Day 31 – Heredia: coffee in even more depth

Tuesday 21 March 2023 – We are staying at Finca Rosa Blanca, which is primarily a hotel/resort.  As well as the architectural quirks I mentioned in yesterday’s post, it has a nice line in decorative tiling.

and some other unusual touches in décor, such as this vine and Oropendola nest by reception.

It’s also billed as a coffee farm. There; that’s the revelation I promised in my last post, and it also gives you the tiniest clue as to what most of today’s entry is about. Yes – we had a coffee tour included in the schedule prepared for us by Pura Aventura.

Our guide was Paulo,

who was very knowledgeable and clearly passionate about his coffee.  We walked a few paces down the road to the entrance to the coffee farm

whilst he told us a little of the history of the place.  It was really not what I expected.

The original coffee farm is quite old, whereas the hotel part is relatively new, having been built in the 1980s. When the old coffee farm was put up for sale, the hotel owners decided to buy it, to prevent the land being used for property development.  Having bought what was a traditional, non-organic farm in 2002, they took the radical decision to make it organic.

This is not a trivial matter.

It involves ripping out whatever was there – all of the plants had been treated with chemicals, for example – and replacing them with a completely new plantation of coffee plants and other trees as well.  The process of being certified organic took six years, and so in 2008 they could start with the production of organic coffee.

They replanted coffee (Arabica, of course), as part of a mixed planting, with trees (eg Poro and Banana, underplanted with eg Monstera) to provide shade – important for temperature control, extra nutrients to the soil and to balance the water content, since Arabica is picky about soil moisture. Like the Nortico cacao operation, it’s a mixed system to provide the best growing environment and to preserve the richness of the soil.

The farm is small – 12 hectares – which makes it tiny compared to the 926 hectares at Aquiares, the biggest plantation in Costa Rica.  It’s so tiny, and so directed by the rigours of sustainable, shade-grown, organic coffee production that actually its main customer is the hotel itself. The farm sells a small amount of coffee in its own shop and possibly one or two other local sellers, but that’s it; it’s a sideline for the hotel, but an interesting one.

Listening to Paulo was to start to realise that the layers of complexity about coffee we’d started to peel back at Aquiares were, you guessed it, only a part of the bigger picture.

The Rosa Blanca farm produces sustainable, organic, shade-grown coffee, and it roasts its own – very different from the Aquiares operation which is not shade-grown, not organic and produces mainly green coffee beans which it sends to roasters for them to process.  This is not to say that the Aquiares products are at all inferior; but they are different; and it was interesting (and, yes, boggling) to understand this extra level of subtlety in assessing coffee.

We walked through the farm

towards the mill

with Paulo filling our already-boggling brains with more and more information.

For example: the farm had just finished its harvest.  This started in November, and consists of a first pass, where red cherries (i.e. good quality ones) are hand-picked for processing, followed by a second pass in January to (again hand-)pick any remaining red cherries.  Then in March, the final pass picks everything else – green or red., doesn’t matter; this third pass is destined for lower-grade coffee and it’s important that the coffee bushes are left stripped so they can start regenerating as part of preparation for the next crop.

Thus, when it started raining a couple of days ago, this was bad news, as the bushes started growing flowers again.

Flowers will lead to cherries, but they will ripen just as the rainy season starts (September) and will thus not be picked – not the right weather, and also no workers around to pick them.

We were already familiar with the distinction between Arabica and Robusta coffees. But – oh, goodness gracious me! – there was more to understand here, too.  There are some clear distinctions between the two sorts of coffees.

Arabica (originally from Ethiopia, rather than the Arabic part of Africa, actually) is picky about where it’ll grow – it has to be the right temperature, the right amount of rain (not too much, not too little), the right amount of sun, and it’s self-pollinating – in Costa Rica this means at a specific range of altitudes, between 800 and 2,000 metres above sea level. This sensitivity, by the way, is exposing the Arabica strain to considerable threat from climate change. According to some analyses, it won’t be long before Arabica coffee becomes a thing of the past.

Robusta is not a species, like Arabica, but a collection of species with similar characteristics.  They are, in a Ronseal kind of way, more robust about where they will thrive – so they will grow in lowlands, under a wider variety of weather conditions, and require insect pollination.  Robusta varieties are higher in caffeine which makes them more resistant to insect and other predators.

Robusta is lower quality than Arabica (right now there is no Robusta in Costa Rica). All instant coffee, everywhere, is made from Robusta strains. In Costa Rica, virtually all the top quality (first and second pass) coffee in the entire nation is exported; in the shops, the coffee will be on three shelves:  top shelf, $15 a bag, high quality; middle shelf, $4 a bag, lower quality; bottom shelf, maybe $1 per bag, is made from the third pass remnants. In Europe, supermarket (non-instant) coffee is all premium quality first or second pass coffee.

There’s a sort of Periodic Table of varieties. Here it is.  There will be a quiz later on.

Can’t read it? Doesn’t matter. It’s just too complicated unless you’re a complete coffee nut.

I was quite surprised to hear that coffee is not a principal component of Costa Rica’s export business. For all that most of their coffee is exported, it’s not that much in money terms. Costa Rica’s main export, it seems, is medical technology, an industry developed after Intel first came to the country in about 2005 and their presence catalysed the medical tech business here; it buggered off shortly thereafter, but the med tech companies stayed and are now Costa Rica’s main business.

Here’s the league table of coffee production (as of 2021):

Well, “there’s an awful lot of coffee in Brazil”, as the song goes, so no surprise there. But – Vietnam? It turns out that Vietnam’s coffee is based on Robusta. So, surprisingly, is that of Brazil. If you factor quality of coffee into that figure, many countries, Costa Rica among them, float up that chart.

If you can recall our day at the Aquiares plantation, you’ll remember the bewildering scale of the operation to process the cherries, which involved large buildings, lots of bits of machinery and vast numbers of sacks of coffee awaiting their journey to all corners of the globe.

Here’s the Rosa Blanca operation:

Skinning and initial fermentation

Everything else

Inside the Everything else building are various bits of machinery for dehusking,

sorting by density

and roasting.  All their roasting is done by one expert, Charlie.

It’s not large-scale or high tech, but it’s what’s needed for Rosa Blanca to make their coffee; and their coffee has won first prize awards, too.

See?

With all of these extra shades of subtlety about coffee varieties, history, production and quality, Paulo then boggled us further with a tasting session.  We went upstairs where the table was laid out for us

and Paulo ground two sorts of coffee for us to examine, first dry

to sample the aroma, and then with added hot water (between 85 and 91°C, 190°F).

On the left is medium roast coffee and on the right, dark roast. If you watched the video above, you might have inferred that medium roast coffee is denser than dark roast coffee, as more gases inflate the dark roast beans in that extra minute of roasting. This can be seen just by dipping a spoon lightly into each sort

whereupon you can see that dark roast grounds tend to float more than medium roast grounds.

Having sniffed the dry grounds, we then sampled each coffee, trying to identify the various overtones that are available. The lighter the roast, the more floral or fruity the taste; the darker roast has less acidity but more bitterness.  Paulo pointed us at a flavour chart in the (completely unfounded) expectation that it would help us

I could have told you it was coffee and that the two tasted different from each other; Jane got a bit further by identifying a couple of key tastes. But I’m as useless at such subtlety as I once discovered that I also was with wine.  So it was interesting to note this level of nuance in the tasting of coffee, but Paulo gave us the most important rule:

The best coffee is… the one you like.

The way coffee is ground (coarse, medium, fine), the way it’s prepared (drip, French press, espresso machine) and the amount it’s roasted (light, medium, dark) all affect the final product.  Like wine or music there is no good or bad, simply what you like or don’t.

There were some nice decorative touches in the mill

Traditional coffee transport – ox-cart

Various grinding solutions

and outside there were racks for drying beans in the sun.

Rosa Blanca do fully-washed and other processes – fermented, honey, natural, as shown by the colour of the beans.

Left to right – Fermented, Natural, Honey, Fully-washed

All in all, it was another absorbing, educational and intense education session for us about the intricacies of coffee.  We walked back to the hotel, where another cup of coffee was made for us, to round off the experience, whereupon we retreated to our apartment to mull over what we’d learned (and I tried to write it up before I forgot all the stuff that I’d just been told).

So.

This has brought you up to date. I sit here, typing in the present tense after a late lunch and we now start preparing for our departure from Costa Rica tomorrow, because this was our last call on our 13-stop itinerary around an extraordinary country.

It has been extraordinary.

In 31 days, I’ve taken a smidge over 4,000 photos on my Big Camera, and 1,300 photos and 200 videos on my phone. Jane has recorded over 1,400 photo and 65 videos on her phone. 200GB of content. Thank you, Nikon and Samsung, for your help with the quantity.  It has been a pleasure seeking the wheat from amongst the very considerable amount of chaff, and dressing it up so you can read about the many wonderful things we’ve seen whilst we’ve been here; thank you for accompanying us as we’ve stumbled from place to place.

Our taxi arrives to take us to the airport at – oh, fucking hell! – 0515 tomorrow.  I shall try to pull together some valedictory thoughts over the next couple of days to close off this section of this blog.  In the meantime…

Thank you. Thank you for reading my blog.

 

 

Day 30 – Tranquilo to Heredia

Monday 20 March 2023 – As I said yesterday, all good things must come to an end, and so it was with our stay at the delightful Tranquilo Lodge. We had a relaxed schedule (nice change!) so could have a leisurely breakfast before saying our goodbyes.

The Lodge also had some last-minute wildlife for us. All the time we were there, Scarlet Macaws were flying to and from a tree in the far distance, in preparation, Sebastien told us, for mating. This was, sadly, the only chance to see them and we couldn’t get close enough for a decent photo.

A Broad-winged Hawk was a little more obliging.

But we had a couple of gigantic insects on our veranda: a couple of Giant Katydids – each about 4 inches long not counting antennae

and, most impressively, a Dead Leaf Moth, one of the Giant Silk Moth family.

Here it is with a light switch for scale – it was the size of my hand.

So we said goodbye to Sumi and Raj, and Matthew and Jean-Pierre (lovely guys, but expensive acquaintances, these two – discussions with them have simply increased the length of the list of places we now want to visit) and, of course, Sebastien and Christophe.

Our four days at the Lodge were a superb, relaxed, comfortable, enjoyable and good-humoured counterbalance to the intense days that preceded them. Sad as it was to leave, our next destination, the Finca Rosa Blanca in Heredia, beckoned.

Heredia is, like Alajuela, where we stayed on arriving into Costa Rica, a suburb just north of San José, not too far from the airport. Since Drake Bay has its own airport, a flight from one to the other is the logical way to travel between the two. But first we had to endure the road from the Lodge to the airport, which was quite as bad as anything we’d encountered when we were driving ourselves around, But we made it OK, to a very tiny aerodrome,

where we checked in and were given our boarding passes.

There was no air conditioning in the building, but a very hot and humid day was somewhat mitigated by the giant fans in the roof – three of them in total.

We were amused by the manufacturer’s name, which had a distinct Ronseal overtone it it.

Our aeroplane, we discovered, was a Cessna Caravan (C208B for the aeroplane afficionados among you), which flew in and was swiftly loaded with the passengers’ bags.

and we rather informally wandered out to it

and boarded – 12 passengers and the plane was full.

Jane made an inspired choice of window seat, so I brutally dragged her out of it so I could take photos as we went along the 40-minute journey.

We had to wait a few minutes in San José airport to make contact with the driver who was to take us onwards, but Jane eventually found her and off we went, past an example of a sign I had been wanting, childishly, to take a photo of ever since we’d arrived.

Get your ferrets here! 😉

Yes, I know it’s an ironmongery. It still makes me chortle because I haven’t grown up properly yet.

San José’s main roads are fine, but as soon as you get away from them the surfaces deteriorate alarmingly and we did a fair bit of crater and pothole slaloming as we went along. But we made it OK to Finca Rosa Blanca, which will be our final resting place in Costa Rica; we have two nights here. We were welcomed and checked in in a very smooth and professional fashion and whisked along to our room to settle in.

It’s a funny old place – architecture somewhere between César Manrique, as we saw on Lanzarote recently, and the confected appearance of Binibèquer Vell, where we stayed one night in Menorca.

The entrance hall to our apartment is, well, entrancing.

Our entrance hall

and the pool is a thing of joy,

lavishly decorated.

The site has an “Old House” – once the building where all the accommodation was, before more modern apartments were added.

It’s a resort, with reasonably substantial grounds, but based around a function that I will reveal to you in the next post. There. Can’t wait, can you?

Days 26 to 29 – Tranquilised

Thursday 16 to Sunday 19 March 2023 – I’ve been pretty quiet on these pages for a couple of days now. But all good things must come to an end. We have been at the exquisite Tranquilo Lodge for four days and it’s exactly the break from relentless tourism that we required. We have been so lazy we have been getting fan mail from sloths.

Well, there were a couple of exceptions. Principally, we went snorkelling a couple of days ago.

Caño Island is a nature reserve quite close to Drake Bay, and is a very popular snorkelling destination because of its coral reefs and sea life. Jane had made sure that this was included in the schedule that Pura Aventura had put together for us.

I have strong reservations about going snorkelling. I’m not a strong swimmer, and my previous (limited) experience doesn’t enable me to look forward to doing it again with anything other than grave suspicion,

Anyway, we set off.  Early, of course.  After all, we’re on holiday travelling.  Sebastien had arranged a breakfast box for us, so at least we had a pretty decent stab at a meal having got up at 5am.  At the appointed hour – 0645 – we walked down to the Lodge’s office, where a juvenile hawk of some sort watched us with some bafflement.

Sebastien appeared, provided us with towels and led us (a couple of chaps also staying at the Lodge, Jean-Pierre and Matthew, were part of this excursion as well as Jane and me) down the road to Pirate Cove where we were joined by a German gentleman, Rainer, and spent a little time waiting for the guy who was going to lead the snorkelling, Federico, to marshal his forces. Once things were ready we walked across the beach to where we were to board the boat.  Well, everyone else did. I managed to slip and fall into a stream which ran across the beach, and of course the towels went in as well as me. So they were going to be no use for the rest of the day.

Same like me, really.

Federico was clearly an experienced guide and snorkelling leader, as he gave us clear instructions as to how we were going to get on board and where we were to sit.  He made sure we put on life jackets and off we went, via another beach to pick up a French Canadian family who were also part of the activity.

Off we went, on a 45-minute ride to the island. We got to the first of the two snorkelling stops, and once again Federico gave us clear instructions about how he would lead the group, and what to do in the water, such as how to signal that you were drowning or whatever. And into the water we went, in my case bearing an Olympus Tough camera with which to photograph the bewildering plethora of wildlife that I was sure would be there for me to see.

I discovered, as I had feared, that the normal laws of physics which enable people to enjoy bobbing around in the water with masks, tubes and flippers on simply don’t apply anywhere near me.  The idea is that everyone should stay as a group, and Federico would tell us what we could see. I find that I can either stay with the group or take a look at what’s going on under the water. But not both at the same time.

The nadir of the experience came when Federico told me that there was a turtle to my right, but I had great difficulty knowing where to look.  In fact the bloody thing bumped into me to try to attract my attention, I think.  I managed to get a shot of it as it buggered off

but that was enough for me. I realised that I couldn’t stay with the group, I was having great difficulty seeing anything, so my best place would be on board rather than slowing things down for everyone else. So I used one of the gestures that Federico had taught us meant I needed retrieving and the boat came over to get me. Even that was embarrassing, as I couldn’t get my fucking flippers off and they had to help me with that.

After about 45 minutes, the swimmers came back on board and we went to the island’s beach, where there’s a Rangers’ Station

and a short trail

which leads past convenient conveniences up to a viewing platform.  It was actually a pretty decent view.

After a few minutes, it was time to board again, but there were lots of boats with groups of punters and so it was a bit chaotic as everyone juggled for a place in the queue to come in.

but then we were off to board the boat (that’s Federico leading the charge).

I (obvs) decided not to participate in the second snorkelling session, but Federico got everyone else organised with his usual clarity and humour.

I will let Jane take up the narrative at this point…

OK so first off, I should have thought to take Steve’s camera on the second session; but I didn’t so I can’t show you what I saw. I have included stock pictures of the main fish we encountered, though, to give you an idea…

My main problem with snorkelling is keeping my mask from fogging up (I have my own mask with prescription lenses, to allow me to actually see without risking my normal contact lenses). There are as many proposed solutions to this problem as there are snorkellers: specific anti-fog sprays, baby shampoo, dish soap, spit… Federico proffered “Monkey Spit” – a bright green biodegradable soap solution of some kind, which actually worked pretty well, and then it was off into the water.

I enjoy the peacefulness of snorkelling, the sensation of flying, the sound of my own breathing; it has to be said that keeping in a group with other snorkellers, including a couple of charming but excitable kids liable to suddenly kick off in any direction, is maybe not quite as peaceful as I’d like, but anyway… We followed Federico over the coral and rocks, about 2m deep on the first session; tbh the visibility was not perfect but the second session, after the stopover on the Island, was much better (and a little deeper).

We were swimming through shoals of Sergeant Major fish, their gold stripes flashing and shining in the sun, and Scissortail Damselfish curious enough to get close to check us out.

Hiding in the coral were shy Guineafowl puffers, black spotted, yellow and half-and half; and blue Parrotfish gnawing away at the coral with their sharp beaks at one end, and excreting a stream of fine coral sand at the other.

Garden eels, lobsters, starfish… a grazing sea turtle… From time to time Federico free-dived very elegantly down to show us things of interest on the bottom.

Despite a few minor stings from jellyfish it was all entirely delightful – but the best sight of all came towards the end. We came upon a massive shoal of Bigeye Crevalle Jack; these are fairly large fish, maybe 50cms long; in the stock picture I’ve included below they are silver when seen from the side, but when seen from above, as we were seeing them, they were an almost translucent pale dove-grey-blue. There were thousands of them, it was a living blue-grey river, flowing, branching, recombining, swirling – a mesmerising and magical sight.

Bigeye Crevalle Jack

And now back to Steve…

The return journey was, unsurprisingly, the reverse of the way out, a 45-minute (more bumpy) ride back to Drake Bay through occasional rain showers. (I took note of the skipper putting his rain jacket on and so followed suit – well, jacket – with alacrity.)

And that was our snorkelling expedition. We relapsed back into total relaxation with only one other brief flurry of activity, when we took a short boat ride out into the bay to see a phenomenon that neither of us had witnessed before – bioluminescence. The conditions, remarkably, were right – low tide and new moon. Our guide was called Abraham (a cousin of our barman Gonzalo (qv) as it turns out) and he took Jane and me and one other couple who were staying at the hotel, Sumi and Raj away from the shore and the lights of the village.  Jane and Raj went into the water (I know my limitations, so steered well clear of that prospect) and had a close-up view of the blue pinpricks of light emitted by the plankton as they moved arms and legs in the water.  The plankton emit light when stressed, Sumi and I splashed our hands in the water and were rewarded by seeing the light emitted by individual plankton swirling around our hands.  I of course tried to photograph it, but there was not enough light and so all I have for it is a series of black frames.  It was intriguing to see the phenomenon at work, though.

Those two activities aside, our time here has been spent in blissful idleness with more than a hint of overindulgence.  Tranquilo Lodge is good at that.

Sebastien and Christophe sold their very successful catering business in San Francisco and have come to Drake Bay to create an absolute jewel – modest in scale currently but with some plans for future expansion.  There are nine villas, each with rooms that are large, comfortable and very well thought-out. The attention to detail is impressive, the service is impeccable (in a relaxed and approachable kind of way) and the food is Michelin-star quality, courtesy of head chef Danny. Much of the food is home produced – they make their own bread, take fruits and vegetables from the gardens and get fish from local sources.  They even make their own honey – here is Sebastien proudly showing the latest batch.

Behind the bar is Gonzalo, who does a great job of making the sort of cocktails that Jane loves,

there’s a cat which appears to have adopted the place as his home

and there are many comforting conformations that the place simply oozes class.

I only have one complaint.  The route from our villa to the bar is really quite steep.

The restaurant and bar area is at the top of steep hill

but in extremis (e.g. with luggage) there’s a lovely new golf buggy, of which Sebastien is justly proud.

We have to leave tomorrow, which is a bit sad, but which will be good for our waistlines: we normally tend to eat just two meals a day, but Sebastien and Christophe do a good line in selling us on a third. Given the quality of the food, it’s difficult – OK, thus far, almost impossible – to resist.

We have one more destination on our schedule, Heredia, back in the centre of the country near San José. We fly there tomorrow, so please come back and find out how that all went, won’t you?