For decades, people have been coming to this country, and following the pineapple trucks up to the nearest four-star. Usually, it was enough to have a view of the Pacific, or ringside seats next to some billowing volcano. Nowadays, some of the best places are right out in the wilds, on land once thought habitable only to crocodiles and cowboys. But are these places really fit for royalty or just Indiana Joneses? It was time to set off, into the wilds.
I began gently, in the Central Highlands. Although the capital, San José, isn’t famously inspiring (pastel suburbs festooned in cables), within a few miles the great garden begins. My first lodge was perched high up in the coffee, at 4,000ft. With its own jungle and Art Deco ramparts, Finca Rosa Blanca (1) feels as though it’s been here for ages, and yet it hasn’t. Forty years ago, this mountainside was just a churned up motocross track. Its salvation might well be a metaphor for that of Costa Rica. Once facing ecological ruin, now a third of the land is protected, and it’s home to 5% of our planet’s species.
قبل أربعين عاما، وكان هذا الجبل فقط مخض يصل مسار موتوكروس. خلاصها قد يكون جيدا كناية عن أن كوستاريكا.
بمجرد ان تواجه الخراب الإيكولوجي، والآن ثلث الأراضي محمية، وانها موطن ل5٪ من أنواع كائنات كوكبنا
I hope the translation will be excellent