Rancho Mastatal

Holding hands with eleven strangers, I sat on a wooden bench at a long table. Christmas lights and candles illuminated the outdoor patio where Minestrone and breadsticks steamed on the island behind us. We’re going to go around the table and say what we’re thankful for, Sam explained. I didn’t know where to begin.

I had gotten on a bus at 5:30am that morning – Thursday, the 2nd of October. I would do that twice more before the sun set: Monteverde to San Jose; San Jose to Puriscal; Puriscal to here, a place called Mastatal. I arrived around 5:30pm, just as light was beginning to leave the sky. A girl who introduced herself as Michelle stepped out of a large wooden house that sat behind a garden bordered by a vegetation-laden black wrought iron fence and gate. I took off my shoes and followed her, seeing with each step more of the place I had come to stay – Rancho Mastatal, an American-run environmental learning center two hours from “civilization”.

“Gracias a la Madre. Buon prevenció.” At the table, the meal began. Michelle had finished giving me a tour just in time for dinner. I was to stay for four nights. Though the learning center’s focus is sustainable building, all major projects suspended during the rainy season. Over the course of the next few days however, I would find plenty to occupy my time.

Day 1 – Chocolate in all its various forms

Woke and headed for the main house. The night before, I had been invited to join the group on a tour of a local chocolate plantation. Could life get any better? After breakfast we set off. Walked a kilometer down the gravel road under the morning sun. Turned right at a sign reading The Chocolate Iguana and followed the smell. A young man met us in front of what I assume is his home and sat us down out back around a small table. “This is a cacao fruit.” He held what looked like a fat, lumpy, yellow zucchini in his hand. He split it with a machete and ate a piece of what was inside before passing it around. The cacao beans where incased in a white sack, which has a sweet – almost citrus flavor. The beans are purple when you bite into them.

We followed him through the process. Drying, roasting, shelling, and grinding – tasting all the way. After an hour, we headed to the front porch where a table was set with a platter of warm brownies, a bowl of chocolate spread, and pitchers of chocolate milk. Oh man. Everything contained a higher percentage of chocolate and was less sweet than I’m accustomed to. We added sugar to the chocolate milk because it was simply chocolate – as in ground cacao beans – and milk. Everything was heavy, dark, and delicious. We left giddy, high from indulgence. I bought chocolate mango soap.

Day 2 – Tree houses and the Hooch

Rancho Mastatal has the library of my dreams. Half is good fiction – the kind that keeps you from sleeping while swinging lazily in a hammock on a sunny afternoon. The other half contains every non-fiction book to do with sustainable building you could imagine.


Saturday morning, I chose one of each – You Shall Know Our Velocity by David Eggers and A Builder’s Guide to Tree Houses – and found a hammock of my own.

After lunch, Michelle asked if I’d like to sleep in the hooch – there was an open bed. I had just finished reading about what one was. Packed my bag and climbed up. Untied a mosquito net and tucked the edges under my mattress. Rainforest all around. Careful when peeing off the side Michelle warned, it’s a bit of a drop to the forest floor. The whole structure swayed when someone climbed the ladder, and when I woke in the night it took me a moment to get my bearings – I’m not used to seeing only vegetation – but I really enjoyed my nights in the hooch. I didn’t even fall off the edge.

Day 3 – Waterfalls

Sunday is brunch day at Rancho Mastatal. Pancakes, lots of them, pinapple and papaya, yogurt and granola, tea and crumpets – Scott made them, I think he was missing England because we certainly didn’t need any more bread.

Stuffed full, Sam and I took a walk. We had gone to the waterfall near the main house for a swim the day before and were off to see the larger waterfalls behind the owner’s home.

We hiked all afternoon. Though Sam promised monkeys, the closest we came was the monkey doo he put his hand in when climbing over a log. I thought it was funny – he had pointed it out to me as I crossed – he didn’t share my opinion. There were plenty of poisoned dart frogs though, whose neon color I still can’t get over. We saw two waterfalls, and attempted to swim in one, but after I got pinched by what I pray was a crab underwater we decided to head for home.

Sam, who teaches in Brooklyn in the States, hadn’t left the Ranch in three weeks. The slow pace of life had grown on him, and he was quite happy with that fact. Walking back to the Ranch to eat my last candle-lit dinner and spend my final night in the hooch, I half-wished I could make it mine.