Campfires are the only light around, and the pounding sound is the Pacific surf breaking on the shore. This is literally the end of the road
Yoga by the seashore in Costa Rica. Photograph: Getty
On the first evening, I wear hiking boots to dinner. It gets dark soon
after six this close to the equator and the path from the main house to the
kitchen isn’t lit. I’m carrying my torch and watching out for snakes.
Apparently they like to snooze in the leaves around the trunks of trees. The
fer-de-lance is the most dangerous: if you don’t get anti-venom quickly you
won’t die, but you might lose a leg . . . Unknown creatures scurry into the
undergrowth as I pass by, but I make it safely. And then feel pretty silly:
everyone else gathered around the big communal table is in flip-flops, or barefoot.
The Yoga Farm is on the edge of the forest in the far south of Costa
Rica, a full day’s journey from the capital San José. The bus from Golfito takes three hours to
cover the last 60 kilometres, most of it unpaved. Narrow wooden bridges cross
rivers, full, we’re told, of crocodiles. It arrives just after sunset.
Campfires are the only light around, and the pounding sound is the Pacific surf
breaking on the shore. This is literally the end of the road. It’s another 40
kilometres or so to Panama, but you would need a horse or a boat to get there.
When the old American school bus stops, the last remaining passengers –
Guaymi Indians in colourful clothes, who are among the last of Costa Rica’s
surviving indigenous tribes – melt into the forest with their bundles. For
visitors to the yoga farm it’s a steep 15-minute climb up a dirt track with a
backpack and a torch.
In the rainy season, parts of it are regularly washed away. Christy, who
runs The Yoga Farm with her partner Patrick, says everyone has a similar look
on their face when they finally make it, what she calls their “what the hell am
I doing here face.”
The Celeste Waterfalls in Costa Rica (Catarata Celeste).
The Yoga Farm is an intentional community, dedicated to a yogic
lifestyle in harmony with the environment, but its message is gentle and
gradual. Every day our teacher Dana sets an intention for our practice –
gratitude, care for others, care for the earth. Class is on a beautiful wooden
deck with a view of the sea. Food is mainly vegan/vegetarian and alcohol in
moderation is fine, away from the main house. The people here are a mix of
volunteers and guests, mainly Americans and Canadians, but with a smattering of
Europeans. Once a week Christy teaches yoga in Spanish for the local community.
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