Costa Rica's Quiet Beaches And Lush Land

By James Lemoyne
The New York Times

January 24, 1988

DIPPING and bobbing in their awkward way, the flock of shimmering green parrots swept into the bare Guanacaste tree where they cacklingly congratulated themselves on their abrupt landing. All beak and feet, large parrots are poor airmen who seem ridiculously relieved to arrive anywhere at all. The noisy comedians of Latin skies, they flap madly through the air until they crash into a friendly tree, almost always with a shriek of gratitude.

Landing procedures completed, the flock settled down to preen, sending emerald flashes from feathered backs rippling through the clean, clear tropical light that prefaces nightfall in Central America. The Pacific rhythmically molded glassy waves in the bay below, then casually tossed them onto the rough volcanic shore where they shattered in sudden white fragments. Against the rising breeze that carried the rich, primal scent of genesis that only the sea can offer, three fishing boats pushed home.

Learn more about Costa Rica.

James Lemoyne is the Salvador Bureau Chief of The New York Times

Copyright 1988 The New York Times Company