Puerto viejo rape4/30/2023 ![]() ![]() ![]() So when people come to me instead of Google to ask if Puerto Viejo is safe, I often feel uncertain how to answer. Still, a few days ago a tourist who took my yoga class showed up with a bloody lip after getting mugged walking home after a party. Police now patrol the road and the beach regularly, community members installed security cameras on popular getaway roads for thieves, and the bars where drug dealers once peddled seem to all be closing down. While I take precautions that I never took in Thailand and monitor my belongings with a far more watchful eye, I see the safety in Puerto Viejo shifting. Returning from Southeast Asia I wondered how dangerous Puerto Viejo might feel to me. Friends of mine have been mugged, jumped, and even raped at all times of night and day. I’m pretty sure an acquaintance of mine stole my iPhone and money out of my pocket one night at the bar. A few weeks later I was pushed off my bicycle and robbed by men in a car on my way to the beach at eleven am. ![]() A friend of mine worked for the Spanish school where every single computer, including her Macbook Pro, was stolen. One day they ran down the beach with machetes robbing people midday. Two years ago while I was living in Puerto Viejo, masked men were breaking into homes with guns. We even did some things that in retrospect I would never recommend to any of you. In other words, after one hour in Puerto Viejo we threw all of our rules out the window. And when you’re on holiday in a hot sweaty tropical beach town you will probably want to be naked as often as possible. The laid back Rasta lifestyle lends itself to a sunset cervasa and the bumping Reggaeton parties often lure you into dancing and drinking until morning. This is a small town where people talk, people watch, and people will likely know where you live… in fact one of their relatives is probably already your neighbor. In fact you’re lucky if you find one with a door that locks or a seatbelt that functions. We will dress modestly to not draw attention to ourselves. We will never have more than two drinks in public.Ĥ. We will never tell anyone where we live.ģ. In an attempt to control what sounded like an uncontrollable situation, I went to my travel companion Andie and I laid out some ground rules. My fantasies of Caribbean living had blossomed so fully that a jungle vine invisibly tethered my heart. Google told me that no, Puerto Viejo was not safe. As I scrolled, terrifying stories surfaced one after the other. I read another story about a man who was murdered while sitting on the beach in the middle of the day. I turned to Google and asked, “is Puerto Viejo safe?”Ī recent story in the news came up first, about a tourist living in Punta Uva, who walking home late one night was thrown into a car, driven for an hour up the coast, gang raped on the beach, and left behind until a beach vendor discovered her in the morning. Sobered by his words, I went home and I did what any twenty something who had barely traveled and been told by her on again off again ex boyfriend that she had already booked a flight and paid a housing deposit in an incredibly dangerous place would do. Upon hearing this news, he turned to me and said, “I’m pretty sure Costa Rica’s Caribbean is the rape and kidnapping capitol of the world.” Riding the wave of attachment and detachment from this man for the last three years, Costa Rica emerged as a life raft on my horizon.īrightly colored wooden houses, coconut palm lined jungle beaches, Rastafarian culture, reggae music, and fresh seafood smothered in coconut milk all sounded too incredible to be real. I remember having Chinese dumplings in an upscale shopping mall with my ex boyfriend and excitedly telling him about my plans to rip off my high heels and go live in the Caribbean jungle.
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