Por: Alexander González Vega
Turismo Sostenible
Fundación Neotrópica
“… buscamos estimular cambios en las actitudes de los individuos que conduzcan al mejoramiento socioeconómico y ambiental de la sociedad, mediante actividades económicas alternativas como el Turismo Rural Comunitario”
La importancia que la actividad turística ha alcanzado en Costa Rica, ha provocado que se desarrollen diferentes formas de turismo para abarcar una cada vez mayor visitación turística y aumentar los beneficios económicos que genera.
El país se ha destacado a nivel mundial por ser pionero en el desarrollo de actividades turísticas enfocadas al ambiente y a la sostenibilidad (como el ecoturismo), destacando en el producto turístico nacional a las comunidades que le dan soporte a la actividad por medio de su hospitalidad, del trabajo que realizan en pro del medio ambiente y complementándolo con la calidad humana que hace que el éxito turístico del país sea sobresaliente.
Recientemente se ha desencadenado un proceso en el que comunidades y organizaciones costarricenses han tomado la delantera, buscando desarrollar un turismo que beneficie directamente a la población local. Surge así el Turismo Rural Comunitario como una alternativa viable para mejora r la calidad de vida en las comunidades rurales del país.
El avance que ha tenido este sector del turismo es tal, que recientemente el gobierno de Costa Rica ha promulgado la Ley de Fomento del Turismo Rural Comunitario en la que se autoriza a las Instituciones de la Administración Pública, Entes estatales y no estatales, Empresas Públicas y Municipalidades, incorporar las acciones necesarias para el apoyo de las agrupaciones de Turismo Rural Comunitario, así como recursos humanos, técnicos y financieros para el cumplimiento de los fines de esta Ley.
El Turismo Rural Comunitario es una actividad que promueve la autogestión comunitaria y el desarrollo sostenible, ejes fundamentales de la labor de la Fundación Neotrópica. Esta organización de enfoque socio – ambiental, lucha por mejorar la calidad de vida del ser humano y su relación con la naturaleza.
Por estas razones es que la Fundación Neotrópica ha establecido su Programa de Formación en Turismo Rural Comunitario, ya que tiene beneficios como:
· Genera una actividad económica alternativa y complementaria.
· Promueve el uso inteligente de los recursos naturales y su conservación
· Promueve el rescate de los valores culturales e históricos locales
· Permite la integración de las comunidades
· Promueve una cultura de paz y tolerancia mediante el intercambio cultural
Por otro lado, la Fundación cuenta con un respaldo dado por la ejecución exitosa de proyectos y programas enfocados a incentivar la adopción de alternativas económicas sostenibles, entre las cuales se encuentran: capacitación para planes de negocios de iniciativas sostenibles, formación de Jóvenes Líderes Emprendedores en la Península de Osa, talleres de capacitación para la elaboración de artesanías, talleres de capacitación en hotelería y para saloneros, aprovechamiento turístico de plantas medicinales, estudios de factibilidad de proyectos ecoturísticos, formación de guías naturalistas locales en zonas rurales desde el año de 1994, y más recientemente el Programa de Formación en Turismo Rural Comunitario.
Los talleres en Turismo Rural Comunitario permiten brindar conocimientos a las comunidades rurales para el aprovechamiento de los recursos de su entorno, de los valores naturales y de los valores culturales locales. El objetivo es generar una actividad productiva que rescata las características rurales para aprovecharlas turísticamente y mejorar la calidad de vida de sus miembros.
Recientemente la Fundación Neotrópica terminó un ciclo de Talleres en Turismo Rural Comunitario en Pejibaye en el cantón de Jiménez (Cartago).
En este ciclo de talleres, el cual concluyó exitosamente, los miembros de la comunidad pudieron darse cuenta de que tienen mucho que ofrecer a las personas que los visitan. Reconocieron e interiorizaron aún más el valor de sus tradiciones y costumbres, conocieron alternativas para aprovechar los recursos naturales a la vez que los conservan y se prepararon mejor para atender a sus próximos visitantes, ofreciéndoles una experiencia de calidad y con beneficios para toda la comunidad.
Los objetivos del Programa de Formación en Turismo Rural son:
1. Brindar herramientas que permitan aprovechar los valores culturales y naturales locales para desarrollarlos como atractivos turísticos.
2. Desarrollar técnicas que permitan la integración de los atractivos turísticos de la zona mediante metodologías participativas e inclusivas.
3. Brindar conocimientos básicos que permitan una gestión adecuada de la actividad turística.
4. Capacitar a las comunidades para brindar un adecuado servicio durante la operación turística
En los talleres de capacitación se realizan actividades que combinan conocimientos teóricos y contenidos de aplicabilidad real a las condiciones propias de las comunidades. Los talleres se realizan procurando la sensibilización hacia el uso responsable y sostenible de los recursos naturales y hacia una nueva visión en cuanto a los hábitos de consumo de las sociedades modernas, en vista de que los participantes se conviertan en líderes y agentes de cambio.
En la Fundación Neotrópica creemos que el Turismo Rural Comunitario es una herramienta que permite promover el desarrollo sostenible en las comunidades rurales de Costa Rica. Por esta razón invitamos a los lectores de Costa Rica Traveler a formar parte de esta experiencia visitando y apoyando los pequeños proyectos turísticos en las comunidades rurales costarricenses, ¡las cuales los recibirán con gran hospitalidad y autenticidad!
Publicado: 28 May 2010
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Downtown San Jose has more roadwork ahead
Officials announced that Avenida 8 will undergo construction along 13 blocks, where they will resurface the street in cement instead of asphalt. Work will begin in about three weeks, and take place between calles 0 and 25.
http://www.nacion.com/2010-05-26/ElPais/FotoVideoDestacado/ElPais2384886.aspx
Museo Nacional closed this weekend
Tourists take note: The Museo Nacional is closed this weekend for remodeling. The museum and its offices will be closed Saturday, Sunday and Monday. The museum will reopen on June 1st.
Expat Wish List
amcostarica.com has compiled a series of wishes for the new government. What do you think? Por otro lado, ¿qué quieren los ticos para los próximos cuatro años? A ver qué opinan…
Publicado: 26 May 2010
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Within seconds of stepping outside of Amsterdam’s train station, the air smelled like marijuana. A short walk will bring you past a variety of coffee shops that I imagine sell very little java. I’m staying in the Red Light district, which is like an amusement park for hedonistic adults. Head shops, sex shops and porn shows fill most of the storefronts, with a few women flaunting their lingerie-covered wears in windows. Groups of fantastically inebriated men stumble through the narrow streets, shouting, fighting and generally in an epic struggle to keep upright.
It’s not as sketchy as it might seem. There are a few blocks that are definitely more seedy, and I never appreciate people lurking in doorways, illuminated only by a lit cigarette, whistling at me in hopes of selling me a little cocaine. But this ain’t the Ritz, even though they charge like it, and instead I’m in the hostel ghettos in the fringe of Europe’s Sin City.
Outside of this canal-laced island of debaucherous wonder, life calms down a bit. You can buy tulips and wooden clogs and I Love Amsterdam t-shirts as you dodge a legion of serious cyclists on their daily to-and-fro.
I like to get out even further. Once the crowds dissipate, the chemical buzz fades, and the carnaval of humanity is left to its own devices, the details of Amsterdam come out, and you have a chance to breathe and take them in.
I’ll be heading out for a walk this afternoon, before the circus starts up again on this Saturday in Amsterdam.
Publicado: 22 May 2010
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Nobody wears sweatpants in Milan. Leaving one's living room is a serious exercise in fashionable expression.
Inside the Duomo.
Shopping is the main draw for tourists coming to Milan. I prefer my t-shirts and jeans, but watching from afar is fun.
Stepping out for a smoke.
At Rost-eat, a wonderful little panini and meat shop in the trendy canal district. Go there if you can: Ripa di Porta Ticinese, 49. The food is inexpensive and delicious.
Lake Como, an hour outside of Milan.
Too cool for school.
Heading home from work.
Train travel is not as glamorous as I imagined.
I had images of mysterious black-clad woman, red lipstick from beneath a veil the only splash of color around, waiving goodbye with a white handkerchief as a puff of steam rose toward the station roof. I would then settle into my sleeper car, where hours later I would emerge refreshed and dapper, with all the romance, history and intrigue of Venice before me.
Today, this was not the case.
At precisely 2:28 am, I crammed into my second-class compartment with four other weary travelers in a space perhaps large enough for two. No lady saw me off at the grimy platform in Ljubljana, but an old Italian woman also piled into our pod of travel misery. She carried four suitcases that most certainly carried lead, bowling balls, an engine block, and the kitchen sink. Her voice suggested a life dedicated to cigarette and whiskey, and her personal perfume and constant coughing confirmed this suspicion. We were now six peas in a smelly pod, en route to Venice, enveloped in a constant supply of fresh coughs, sneezes and husky sighs.
Ah, Venice. That dreamland of singing gondoliers, paddling amorous couples through centuries of romance to the tune of “O Solo Mio.” This would be the compliment to my rail travel fantasy, but in reality I feared throngs of shuffling tour groups making easy prey for pickpockets. After five sleepless hours in the overnight train, I decided not to chance further annoyance during my hour and a half layover. I despise crowds, loathe rushing to get things in, and am running low on money. So instead I had this breakfast of a train station coffee and granola bar, which I had brought from home.
I checked out my surroundings. I noticed that the signs in the station state that smoking is prohibited. Nevertheless, some swarthy ruffian clad entirely in denim sat on the counter of the station McDonald’s, pulled out his smokes, and lit up.
The manager’s pleas to go elsewhere fell on deaf ears. The Smoker just sat there, staring straight ahead through his dark sunglasses, smoking his cigarette. When he reached the butt, he flicked it towards the manager’s door. Real cool, real tough. Nobody was going to mess with him.
Enter the burger flipper. The Flipper spoke to Smoker, who didn’t move an inch or say a peep. Flipper moved his hands in front of Smoker’s shades, to no effect. Flipper looked around for hidden cameras. Then he grabbed Smoker’s arm, to which something was shouted, and forced the offending non-patron to leave the premises. It was time to serve burgers.
I found this whole scene, my introduction to Italy, amusing as an observer. Many people had told me that train travel was much more “civilized” than by bus. After a couple of trips on each mode of transport here in Europe, I would have to say that the train is behind the bus in terms of comfort, price and “civilization.” Like a bad date with a potentially interesting person, I’m willing to give the train another chance. Maybe it’s me. I may not be not that civilized. But if this doesn’t work out, I might have to start making eyes at the bicycle. That’s my last chance. I’m getting desperate.
Publicado: 19 May 2010
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The skies were not ideal for photography, but this is what I got today on a quick jaunt through Slovenia’s Julian Alps.
Many homes in this region look much as they did 250 years ago.
About an hour from Ljubljana, the Alps burst skyward and offer some great skiing.
Mass is still given weekly in this church.
Subtle beauty.
The water really is this color.
My sister Marija.
I’m beginning to understand.
As a child I was subjected to regular family outings to the mining town of Hibbing in northern Minnesota. The tourist attractions in Hibbing include the world’s largest open-pit iron mine, the Greyhound Bus Museum and Tuffy’s Bar, where you can still get a good hamburger and a beer at a decent price.
Tourism was not the reason we went north. Family was. I have vivid memories of sitting around a Formica countertop, my feet swinging between the hollow metal rungs of an ancient chair, answering questions from an old person I barely knew, but knew I had to answer. Suddenly, another relative would appear on the scene, without phoning ahead or even knocking on the door. There was uncle George. There was auntie Mamie. The volume of conversation would rise. A plate of dry pastries or cookies would appear on the table and I would take it in, wishing there were somebody my own age to play with, wondering why these familiar strangers spoke differently, forced strange foods on me, joked and laughed and then stood in silence before taking another cookie and waiting for more words to appear.
My grandfather’s family emigrated from Slovenia to Minnesota over 100 years ago. Life was difficult in Eastern Europe then. I come from a line of farmers and laborers, and a worldwide recession had hit Slovenia hard. Work was scarce. When word came from friends that the iron mines across the ocean were looking for workers, they made their way to England, boarded a ship, and headed for America.
Johanna and Peter Majerle eventually settled in Hibbing, a boomtown awash in the spoils of a city enjoying its position atop the world’s largest, richest deposit of iron ore. They opened a small grocery store. They endured. Their eight children grew up in Minnesota, and family roots grew deep.
A century later I saw the house where my great-grandmother was born. It is a simple stone and mud affair, heated by firewood, in the village of Vace, one of about a dozen houses clustered around a Catholic church. Family still live there. In fact, yesterday I found myself sitting around a Formica countertop, sipping a Lasko beer, eating pastries and chatting with family that I didn’t know I had. Atop the kitchen table were photographs showing my grandfather and his brother in Slovenia; another of my father and uncle on the steps of a home in Hibbing; another of the entire family in Hibbing. The faces sitting around the table proved that the family resemblance is very strong. It was almost as if the photographs had come alive.
I don’t speak Slovene, but Gvido and Zdenka, relatives who live near Ljubljana and who speak English, translated. They did more than translate. They took us around the countryside, showing us the Julian Alps and their craggy, snow-covered peaks; the Mediterranean, with its terra cotta tile roofs, church spires and seaside promenades; and the rolling hills and planes of the south, an agrarian life that works much as it did when my family left Slovenia; and the parliament building in the capital, where Gvido is a deputy in the legislature. He and Zdenka took off work and indeed sacrificed their entire weekend to bring people they had never met to see their family.
I found out that back in the States we mispronounce our surname. After a visit to the Majerle house in Kocevje, I had to adjust my pronunciation. In Minnesota, we pronounce it “Muh-JER-lee.” Here they say “MAI-er-luh.” Sitting around the Majerle family table in Kocevje, I heard the familiar intonations of conversation, the strange almost shouting outbursts, the revolving door of people coming and going without notice, gesture and facial expressions and shouts of “Na zdravje” before hoisting a cup of brandy. I now have new friends. I now know more family.
I’m beginning to understand. Wandering the streets of Ljubjana when I first arrived three days ago, I was flooded with an inexplicable sense of joy. I gazed into the storefront displays, felt the cobblestones under my Minnesota-made Red Wing boots, and wondered why anyone would ever leave such a beautiful place. Sure, things were different when Johanna and Peter left. And sure, Slovenia today is still very much and agrarian country: only a third of the population lives in towns of 10,000 or more. But since fighting to become a separate, capitalist state 20 years ago, the country has made impressive progress. The standard of living is excellent. Many people are multilingual. The GDP per capita is $25,000, and the economy is growing in spite of the current recession. Many rural areas still retain a traditional way of life, and cities are a delightful blend of old architecture, traditional cuisine and a hip, modern nod to the new global village. It’s unpretentious, with a tradition of architecture, music and literature that you usually find only in large cities. But Ljuljana has only 260,000 inhabitants, enjoys a much more manageable scale. It’s a place you come for a long weekend and end up staying months.
Earlier this evening, I stepped into a coffee shop. “Dober dan,” the waiter said. “Dober dan. Eno kavo, prosim.” I replied. He served me a coffee. I started to write. I felt right at home.
Publicado: 15 May 2010
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I’m in Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia, right now. My paternal grandfather’s family emigrated from near here to Minnesota 100 years ago, and today I met Slovenian family that I didn’t know I had. They have been so incredibly gracious that I still have to process it before expressing myself adequately, so instead I leave you today with a few images from Ljubljana.
Ljubljana, Slovenia's capital, is the epitome of old-world European charm mixed with hip design.
Much of the center is open only to pedestrians and bicycles.
The best way to get around.
Fruit vendor at the downtown market.
If Prague approaches you like a rag-and-bones bum in a discarded Armani suit asking for some spare change, Vienna was that suit’s original owner. It just happens that Vienna got a newer, better tailored version of that same suit. And damn does he look good in it.
The center of Austria’s capital has efficiently buffed out any rough edges. Spectacular Victorian architecture stretches for miles along streets lined with names like Versace, Rolex and Cartier. It’s the kind of place that makes you want to put on your white powder wig, call up the coachman and head to the opera. And it seems that plenty of people still do that, at least with modern accouterments but all the same ostentation of bespectacled elite on their way to hear Mozart present his newest concerto. Vienna does not seem want for money.
There are tourists, yes, but none of the package groups waddling through the streets, and none of the tacky souvenir shops catering to fools looking to part with their money. No, Vienna is more dignified than that, with a look and demeanor befitting of the capital of an empire. City parks are veritable botanical gardens; the buildings are exercises in historic preservation and integration of avant garde design. Trams, trolleys, subways and buses combine to form one of the best public transportation networks in the world. Everything is at your fingertips, if you have enough money, and the multitude that do parade through the streets with shopping bags in tow, along an urban catwalk of Europe’s beautiful and hip and urbane.
Rules and order prevail. You’ll hear no music on the trains. Nobody crosses the street on red. Conversations are formal in hushed tones. There is no trash. A Costa Rican friend who had visited the city told me “Vienna is beautiful, but it’s too perfect.” She suspected something was amiss.
Perhaps it is. Other travelers and expats speak of a difficulty in penetrating the national psyche. Friends are hard to come by, they say. An African immigrant told me “It’s very difficult for a black man in Vienna. People say things, awful things, to my friends and me. But I do not let it bother me. I look at them and say, these people have not traveled. They know nothing.”
Below the rigid structure of being the world’s most livable city (according to the most recent Mercer ranking) lies an undercurrent that makes many outsiders uneasy. Just ten years ago an ultra-right-wing party was in power, and pundits spoke of rampant nationalism, heady anti-immigration movements and even throwbacks to Nazism. Recent years have brought much more social and political harmony to the parliament and daily newspapers, and a booming economy has helped keep the peace.
When I see a man in a new Armani suit, I am immediately jealous of his social standing, good fortune, and the obvious difference between him and me. I imagine how life might be so much better for him. But after I rub my eyes and adjust to the shine coming off of all the diamonds and gold, I realize that even though he looks good going out in public, I don’t know what things are like when he goes home. After this brief stay in Vienna, I am not privy to his dinner conversation and pillow talk. I suspect this is how he likes it.
Publicado: 12 May 2010
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“It looks like a Disneyland scene!” my mother exclaimed. Indeed, the entire, sprawling historic center of Prague is an otherworldly display of seven centuries of architecture. To walk the streets of the old center is to immerse yourself in a celebration of historic preservation, all cornices adorned with cherubic faces and ostentatious flourishes all watched from afar by a spire-laden castle that combine to create a fantastic atmosphere reminiscent more of tales of knights and maidens than a working city. Most shops in the center seem to peddle crystals and amber and marionettes and post cards and clothing proclaiming that your friend went to Prague and all you got was this lousy t-shirt. Indeed, the main attractions of Prague are choked by day with trundling tour groups following a guide holding an umbrella aloft, like an adult version of a field trip to the local science museum, except on this trip you pay a lot more and can get drunk at the end.
And get drunk people do. Disneyland for adults features an endless supply of excellent Czech beer at less than US$2 for a half liter. This punctuates romantic nighttime strolls through the city with vignettes of drunken Englishmen with their heads between their knees, Americans bellowing about how they wish it were like this in Kansas City, and Germans letting their guard down just enough to acknowledge that just maybe that eighth pint is what pushed them over the edge. It’s a collection of cheap wannabe international glitterati mixing with a Czech smorgasbord of acid-washed jeans, dyed blonde hair and leather jackets with elastic cuffs, of languid-looking women and hard-edged men who look like any false move you make and they’ll slit your throat.
The food and language do nothing to belie the edgy undercurrent of Prague. Traditional Czech restaurants serve potatoes in all their bland glory accompanied with pork knuckle, boiled beef, sauerkraut, bacon, and beer. To the uninitiated, the language seems to suffer from a substantial dearth of vowels, and when spoken it sounds like a Beatles record played backwards.
Get outside of the city center and you see the other side of Prague. You’ll find more graffiti than house paint, garbage strewn about and broken-looking locals trudging between the bus stop and their home on the seventh floor of a Soviet-inspired apartment block, their balcony decorated with wilted plants and the day’s washing, common areas below unkempt. Prague has been free for just over 20 years, and yet many places still seem irreparably steeped in the very-near tumultuous past. If ever you find yourself in Prague, you will likely find yourself at the castle amid glorious surroundings and endless throngs of camera-toting tourists. When you finish with this necessary evil, take the #22 tram southeast, from the base of the castle, through downtown and to the end of the line. I think you’ll know what I mean.
Publicado: 10 May 2010
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