Let me say, right off the bat, Drake Bay – home of the elusive tapir – and I do not get along. It is in the southernmost part of the Pacific side of Costa Rica. For miles and miles there is nothing but a gorgeous, lush, remote landscape directly ordered up for Jurassic Park and other prehistoric jungle movies; undeniably beautiful and unspoiled. We got there by boating through the world’s largest mangrove reserve into the sparkling waters and crashing waves of the ocean. The place we stayed had a bunch of bananas hanging in the open-air kitchen for the guests and one, closer to the river, for the monkeys, who came and tucked them under their arms like little thieves in the afternoons, scampering back up the vines into the canopy. While snorkeling, we saw rainbow fish, dolphins, and whales up close and personal. After less than four days there, I could not wait to leave. Continue reading The $300 Death March to Touch Tapir Butt →