- Christine Collister
- 1 hour ago
- 5 min read
Blog Post No. 11 – November 2025
Where to begin? November was a tour de force. Costa Rica offered up adventure after adventure — rich, beautiful, and full of surprises.
Angela Hryniuk and I have been friends since 1986. Our paths have looped around each other for four decades, and since 2020’s upside-down world, we’ve kept a cherished weekly video date. I was her maid of honour in 2009 when she married her sweetheart, Steven Seaton, in Noosa. Their story began in London in the mid-70s — she a visiting Canadian athlete, he an Aussie social worker living in Hackney — and they reunited thirty years later.
Time really does have its own magic.
Three years ago, Angela and Steve moved to Costa Rica. I think they’re incredibly brave — new country, different language, unfamiliar culture. I’m not nearly that bold; my life may be odd and unpredictable, but I walk a narrower path. Luckily, our differences and similarities balance out nicely. Bob and I certainly reaped the benefits of their adventurous spirit.
Week 1
The journey out — including a night in Toronto — was blissfully smooth (unlike the return!). Angela and Steve picked us up at Liberia airport, and whisked us off for two nights at Arenal Volcano and two more in the Cloud Mountains.
A quick word on the roads: near towns and tourist hubs the tarmac is lovely. Beyond that… chaos. Rough, dusty, and cratered with potholes the size of beach balls. Angela drove like a magician, dodging holes and coaxing the car over terrain that looked more suited to trail bikes.
It rained on and off around Arenal, but everything was warm, lush and wildly alive — bright flowers, dazzling birds, oversized butterflies. We soaked in hot springs, ate delicious local food, and marvelled at how different life can be.
The drive to the Cloud Mountains was an adventure in itself — the bumpiest “roads” I’ve ever experienced. Still, we arrived in one piece and just slightly shaken. The treetop walks and sloth sanctuary were worth every jolt. Sloths are extraordinary creatures — slow, strange, and endearing. We saw both three- and two-toed varieties, the latter with a much more varied diet. One sloth with only three limbs had been safely cared for in the sanctuary for fifteen years and was thriving.
Our eco-hotel overlooked forest, valleys, and — on a clear moment — the coastline about fifty kilometres away. Clouds drifted endlessly, reshaping the landscape, and the sunsets were breathtaking.
From there we made our way to The Jungala, near Paraiso Guanacaste, where Angela and Steve have built their beautiful home. “Proud” doesn’t even touch it — the place is stunning. We met BB, their ten-month-old black-and-tan pup: joyful, affectionate, and occasionally mischievous. I thought of Sweep often.
Week 2
I joined Angela for her yoga class under a grass-roofed platform in the jungle — a stark reminder of how unfit I’ve become — but the connection with nature was electric. We floated home.
While Bob and Steve collected tiles in Santa Cruz, Angela and I meditated in her Nido, a serene little creative nest a short walk from the house. Bliss.
We all went to Tamarindo for their writing group, meeting new creative souls and joining in a writing exercise before lunch on the beach.
Angela had also arranged a house concert for me. I performed an abridged Children of the Sea and Beyond, with videos on their big TV. Steve, being a music aficionado, jerry-rigged a PA system that worked beautifully. About fifteen friends came — “Collister virgins” — and they were marvellously attentive. A sweet, intimate gig, followed by shared food and warm company.
Afterwards, we headed to Samara, staying just steps from the beach. BB came too and had the time of his life. Walking into the warm ocean each day was heavenly. I spent an entire day reading in the shade — or what I thought was shade. I managed to sunburn the left side of my face and shoulder despite wearing a hat. Lesson learned.
We finished with a wonderful outdoor meal: virgin Piña Coladas, fabulous food, and laughter under the warm evening sky.
Week 3
Back at the house, we settled into a gentle rhythm of daily life: mid-morning fruit with yoghurt and homemade granola; late-afternoon swims in the pool while spotting howler monkeys and hummingbirds; simple meals shared with dear friends. Ordinary moments that felt like privileges.
Week 4
And then — Panama!
Angela had planned a trip to coincide with two American friends celebrating Thanksgiving. Rachel, an English teacher in San Jose, found a magical Airbnb: a purple house perched over the water in Bocas del Toro. She and her friend Marina joined us later.
Getting to the border took two days. We drove five hours to San Jose, shared a surprisingly good Chinese meal with Roseanna — another lovely writing friend — and stayed the night.
We left at 7 a.m. to beat the traffic and wound our way down a snaking mountain pass to the Caribbean coast. The roads were miraculously better on this side! After a few wrong turns, we reached the border, where our Panamanian guide, Adriano, shepherded us through taxes, passport control, and the bridge to Panama. His father, Pappito, drove us to the boat — a 45-minute ride, followed by a 30-minute crossing. It all felt deliciously noir, like a tropical thriller.
Our accommodation was pure magic. Despite it being the start of the rainy season, it was warm and relaxing. When Marina and Rachel arrived, the fun dialled up: a day on the water with a local boatman who showed us dolphins, starfish, parrots — and took us snorkelling. It was perfect: hilarious, vivid, life-affirming.
The return journey was less romantic. We hadn’t realised it was the equivalent of a bank holiday weekend, and everyone was on the road. A 4.5-hour drive stretched to almost eight. Angela and Steve were heroes.
I’m finishing this from our Heathrow hotel. We were supposed to stay for two nights, but our flight from Costa Rica was delayed, so we missed the London connection — my first missed flight ever. Air Canada arranged a hotel for us and provided many food vouchers. We crawled into bed at 1.30 a.m, only to be awakened at 4.15 by the fire alarm. After a bewildered stumble outside into –3°C snow, we were eventually allowed back in.
C’est la vie!
This is only an abridged account of Costa Rica — a country still straddling modernity and wildness. We went because our friends live there, and it was a joy to see what they’ve built and who they’ve become. Angela, my friend of forty years, continues to inspire me. She is a powerhouse — brave, expansive, and entirely herself.
Thank you, darlin’. We’ll do it all again soon enough. Know you are loved.
And thank you, dear reader, for checking in on this wee singer as she wanders the globe. Next month’s update will come from Perth, Western Australia. The adventures continue…
Until next month — the end of the year! — Stay well, be curious, and keep rising above the turbulence.
Much love,
Christine x
