The Rich Coast

In fourteen hundred ninety-two,
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.
There were three ships that left from Spain
That sailed through sunshine, wind and rain.

"Indians! Indians!" Columbus cried;
His heart was filled with joyful pride.
Columbus sailed on to find some gold,
to bring back home, as he'd been told.

He made the trip again and again,
Trading gold to bring to Spain.


His most famous trip may have been in 1492, but there were others, too. Ten years later, Columbus made his fourth and final voyage to the Americas. Four ships, named the Capitana, the Gallega, the Vizcaína, and the Santiago de Palos, left their Spanish port on a sunny day in May.
Thirty days passed as the four galleons cut across the Atlantic Ocean. When they arrived in the Caribbean, a storm front was blowing. They took shelter on one of the nearby islands they called Hispaniola. The island of Hispaniola later came to be known as the Dominican Republic and Haiti.
After the storm passed, they set sail. His four ships passed islands he had visited before. The first of these islands was Juana. Christopher Columbus named it after Prince Juan of Spain. Columbus named the next island Santiago. Santiago was named after Saint James, also known as Saint Iago. In fact, Christopher Columbus and his sailors named most of the lands surrounding the Caribbean.
These Spanish galleons explored the coastline of Central America. Their first stop was in Honduras. Columbus named Honduras. Honduras meant “depths” in Spanish. Unable to find treasure, the sailors were disappointed with their latest discovery. They considered Honduras the “depths from which they rose.”
Rumors fluttered about as they communicated with the tribal leaders of Honduras. The “Indians” told Columbus that gold could be found further south along the coast. The Spaniards eagerly set sail for villages further south.
They ran into more “Indians” living near a lake named “Nicarao,” They named the lake after Chief Nicarao. The Spanish also named this land after the great leader. They called it Nicaragua. “Nicarao’s Water.” There was no gold here, either.
The Nicaraguans also shared fanciful tales about a “land of gold.” Columbus and his men packed up their ships and headed south once again.
They ran into another group of “Indians.” Again, Christopher Columbus and his men were wrong. Not only couldn’t they find gold, but they also couldn’t find a westward passage to India.
Until then, Spanish trade routes either traveled through the Mediterranean or around the southern tip of Africa. Either way, the Spanish traders had to pay a heavy price. The Spanish had to pay taxes to travel through certain parts of the Mediterranean. On top of that, there were pirates who looted the ships. The trip around the southern tip of Africa took three extra months. This made trade through the eastern passage expensive. The main reason Columbus sailed across the Atlantic was to get to India.
Still, the weary travelers stopped long enough to look for gold. Finally, there was gold. Not as much as they hoped, but there was gold. Columbus and his men called this land Costa Rica, meaning “The Rich Coast.”
Although there was gold in Costa Rica, it wasn’t from Costa Rica. The Costa Ricans had traded with the Aztecs to get the gold. Saddened, Columbus left Costa Rica behind, never to return again.
Costa Rica was barely disturbed by outside influences for the next five hundred years. Costa Rica had two coasts: the Caribbean and the Pacific. Between the coasts rose the mountain highlands. For generations, the Costa Ricans lived a simple life, enjoying the bounty of wildlife and vegetation that surrounded them.
A young boy named Paolo Vasquez rode his bicycle home after school. He rode along these same footpaths the ancient Spaniards and “Indians” once traveled. The trail wound along the mountainside, cutting through dense patches of vegetation. Paolo approached his house and dumped his bicycle in the front yard.
“Put your bike away!” called Pilar, his oldest sister.
Paolo stored his bike on the patio next to Senor Tagubase’s house. Pilar was in the living room, watching television.
“There’s some arroz con pescado on the stove, if you want it,” said Pilar. Paolo went to the kitchen. He picked up a handful of rice with fish and stuffed it into this mouth before returning to the living room. His sister sat on the couch with her legs folded. She dipped her fingers into the bowl on her lap, eating some of the rice with fish she had cooked.
“I planned on going down to the beach to meet some friends,” said Paolo.
“That’s fine as long as you’re home for dinner.”
Without hesitation, Paolo changed into a tank top and trunks. He slipped into his sandals and was out the front door. He hurried to the edge of his back yard and down a series of wooden steps. His house was one of many that overlooked the beach.
Paolo’s friends had gathered on the beach. They were split into two teams, playing beachside football in the surf.
“Paolo is on our team!” called Rafael.
Paolo stripped off his shirt and jumped into the action with his friends. They had moved two pieces of driftwood across the beach to form makeshift goals to stop the soccer ball from rolling too far along the beach.
Of course, there were others playing on the beach, too. Surfers rode the waves on their wakeboards. Sailboarders used the wind to ride further from shore. Children played in the tides and sunbathers basked in the hot summer sun.
Paolo dribbled the ball down the beach, wearing his sandals all the time. Most of his friends played in their bare feet. As Paolo passed the ball to his friend Rafael, it skittered on the sand. Rafael took a shot at the goal. The ball sailed high, bouncing along the beach until it rolled into the surf. Rafael chased the ball in the tides and dribbled it back to his friends.
They played like that for most of the afternoon, chasing each other back forth until someone kicked the ball too hard or made a bad pass. Then, they chased the ball down the beach and brought it back into play.
Rafael passed the ball to Paolo, who stood in a shallow pool of surf. Paolo trapped the ball and dribbled it toward a higher part of the beach. Tomas, who played on the other team, stuck out his foot and kicked the ball away from Paolo. Paolo chased his friend, attempting to steal the ball back. He performed a sliding tackle knocking Tomas off his feet. The ball flew into the air and over a cresting wave. The boys waded into the surf as they raced for the ball. Paulo tackled Paolo and picked up the ball. Paolo got up and batted the ball away with his hands.
All the boys ran into the surf and fought for the ball. Beachside football turned into a game of high tide keep-away. The teams were the same, only the game was different.
Paolo secured the soccer ball in both arms as Tomas tackled him by the waist. They splashed into the water. Tomas tugged the ball loose. Arms and legs tangled in the surf as everyone jumped into the pile.
Silt kicked up as the boys wrestled the ball from each other. Paolo pushed his way through the pile as he gasped for breath. The taste of sea salt and sand filled his nostrils.
Paolo got up and went to the beach where everyone left their personal items. He kicked off his sandals and used a towel to dry himself. He found a smooth spot in the sand and laid down.
One by one, Paolo’ friends joined him.
“Hey, who used my towel?” complained Tomas.
“It was me,” replied Paolo.
“Why don’t you ever bring your own towel? You live right at the top of the hill,” said Tomas.
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, I guess.” Tomas dug around in his backpack and pulled out some bananas. He pulled one from the bunch and began eating. The boys passed the bunch around the circle. Paolo took the last one and laid it in the sand beside him.
Paolo laid down and threw an arm over his eyes to keep out the sunlight. While he rested, he listened to the boys’ conversations, periodically adding a comment of his own. Mostly, though, he just listened. There were other sounds, too. Waves lapped at the shore. Tourists and locals held other conversations further down the beach. Paolo exhaled. Everything in the world seemed at perfect peace.
Far-off echoes sounded from the banyan tree forest as howler monkeys hooted and grunted their warnings. Paolo wondered what was disturbing them. Little did he know that the monkeys he should be worrying about were not high up in trees.
“Hey! Get out of here! Shoo! Shoo!” called Tomas. The smell of ripe bananas within easy reach attracted some visitors. Paolo looked up to see a trio of spider monkeys stalking the banana lying next to him.
Tomas had been throwing pieces of his banana at the tiny monkeys. The offer of a free meal attracted a pair of the money’s more aggressive friends. When one monkey approached Tomas, he pushed it away. One of the monkeys saw the uneaten banana lying in the sand.
Paolo reacted quickly, snatching the yellow fruit first. The tallest monkey stood up on his hind legs, watching Paolo. He reached out a hand as Paolo stood up. The monkey looked around for a second, then grabbed the nearest thing he could find: one of Paolo’ sandals.
One-by-one, the monkeys scampered across the beach. They leapt towards a tree and quickly climbed to the top. Paolo chased after the monkey thieves, stopping at the bottom of the tree.
The monkey chirped at Paolo, taunting him with the sandal. Paolo stood there, with his hands on his hips.
“What are you going to do with my sandal, Mister Monkey? You have something I want and I have something you want. Let’s make a deal,” he said.
Paolo peeled the banana and took a bite.
“Mmmmmm.”
The monkey thief stopped to watch Paolo.
“Mmmmmm.” He repeated as he slowly chewed the banana.
The monkey walked back and forth along the branch, not sure what to do next. Paolo decided it was time to put a new thought into the monkey’s brain. He tore off a piece of banana and waved it in the air, just as the monkey had done with his left sandal.
The monkey thief shook the sandal again.
Paolo tossed the piece of fruit onto the ground and then tossed another right beside it. The monkey scampered down the trunk, stopping at the base of the tree. Paolo waved a finger at the monkey thief, as if to call him to give the sandal back to its rightful owner.
The monkey approached the banana as Paolo and his friends watched. Tomas stepped towards Paolo and the monkey thief. The monkey stood on his hind legs again, waiting for the next move. Tomas quickly backed away.
The monkey walked carefully towards the banana bites. He dropped the sandal as he reached for the first bite. Paolo took one step forward. The monkey grabbed the sandal and glared at Paolo.
“I really want that sandal, buddy.”
The monkey kept his eyes on Paolo as he carefully set the sandal his meal. He gobbled it up and then picked up the sandal. He hurried to the other bite and repeated his maneuver. Meanwhile, Paolo watched helplessly.
The monkey picked up the sandal and walked toward Paolo. Paolo slowly crouched down. He was now eye-to-eye with the monkey thief. He took a bite of banana and then held out the remaining banana.
The monkey thief quickly approached, dropped the sandal and made off with the remaining piece of banana. Paolo heaved a sigh of relief as he grabbed his sandal.
The boys gathered up the rest of their things as the monkeys watched from high up in the trees. Rafael, who also lived on the ridge, climbed the wooden stairs with his best friend Paolo.
“That was genius!” said Rafael.
“Are you talking about me or the monkey?”
“Both, I guess,” he laughed.Just before the sun touched the horizon, Paolo went to the patio next to the Tagubase’s house. He turned on the water and rinsed banana cream and sand off his shoes. Afterwards, he shared the story of his day at the beach and the monkey thief with his family as they enjoyed dinner together.