Out of Tourism
Coffee plants on the road to Paraiso
“I’m looking into going back to coffee,” Luis says as we drive up the hill to Paraíso, past acres of coffee plants stripped of their cherries. In the four years that I’ve known Luis, this is the first time I’ve heard him or anyone else mention the possibility of going back to coffee. The harvest is almost over, and some plants have already started to flower, even though it’s early in the year. Costa Rican farmers don’t have to believe in climate change; they can see it happening in their own fields.
“Isn’t that a step backwards?” I wanted to ask, but didn’t. It didn’t seem polite, and besides, I already know the answer. Coffee is the backbone of Costa Rica, responsible for much of its successes and stability over the years, but today agricultural work is not nearly as well-respected as white-collar work in call centers or offices.
‘Respected’ isn’t quite the right word. Farmers are respected, as men (and a few women) who work hard, provide for their families, and who continue the small, independent farming tradition going back more than one hundred and fifty years. But just like almost everywhere else in the world these days, working in agriculture has ceased to be something one aspires to do. As one coffee farmer told me, why would you want your kids to work in the rain and the cold with the snakes and the bugs when they could have a comfortable job inside, sipping coffee instead of tending it? Why did farmers and their families sacrifice for so many years if not to give their children the chance to obtain a better-paying, more predictable, more physically comfortable career?
As we drive out of the Valley Luis says that there are several acceptable lots available right now, and he’s looking into renting one with a friend. Renting, not buying – he hopes this is a temporary measure. Tourism has gotten too unpredictable, he says, patting the steering wheel of his taxi. He did well for many years, earning enough to put his daughter through dental school and to help her open an office in town. Lately, though – since the 2008 economic crisis ripped its way through Costa Rica – he hasn’t been able to earn what he used to. So it’s back to coffee, back to his roots.
“Is it ironic that you’re returning to coffee to get away from the unpredictability of tourism?” I also wanted to ask, but instead, I asked for his daughter’s card. Coffee’s prices are set on the New York Commodities Market, and farmers I have spoken with in both Costa Rica and Guatemala are often frustrated by how little international price swings represent actual conditions on the ground. At least in Costa Rica these changes are mediated by ICAFE (Instituto Nacional del Café de Costa Rica; Costa Rica National Coffee Institute), which sets a minimum coffee price that exporters must pay, regardless of the New York “C” price. Even so, climate change, a rainy year, a late summer, an especially low “C” price – these can all wreak havoc on a farmer’s financial plans. For Luis, getting his kids an education and getting out of coffee seemed like a solid plan.
It’s still a solid plan – few argue that education is counterproductive. Costa Rica’s highly educated workforce has attracted companies from around the world, and a recent job fair advertised in the newspaper included more than 45 foreign multinationals looking for English-speaking employees. The 2008 crisis coincided with the January 2009 implementation of the first provisions of CAFTA, the Central American Free Trade Agreement (TLC, or Tratado de Libre Comercio). Among other changes, CAFTA has eased restrictions on foreign operations within the country, and many of the same skills that Costa Ricans have acquired for the tourist industry, such as English and a focus on customer service – are applicable when working for foreign companies, many of whom are specifically hiring for customer service positions.
The double-whammy impact of CAFTA and “la crisis” – one promising jobs and the other eliminating them – has caused some Costa Ricans to reconsider the ownership of their country. “Costa Rica is less and less for Costa Ricans every year,” one friend told me. Between tourism and CAFTA, the demand for English, the rise of foreign chains (Starbucks is opening its first café here in May), it can sometimes feel like visiting Costa Rica is not all that different than visiting the United States. This sensation depends on the visitor and the locale visited, of course, and it doesn’t take too much effort to get off the tourist trail. As travel agents in the U.S. and tourism operators in Costa Rica have told me, and as Lonely Planet points out, Costa Rica makes an excellent “starter” country for European and North American visitors because it combines the exotic – active volcanoes, howler monkeys, snorkeling, and the famous zipline canopy tour, invented in Monteverde – with the familiar (e.g. McDonald’s, potable water, and a high concentration of English speakers).
The crater at Irazu Volcano, northeast of Orosi
The rise of globalization, the spread of chain stores that displace local operations, the demand for English – none of this is unique to Costa Rica, of course, and not all of it is negative. Tourism brings in millions of dollars and creates thousands of jobs, and it can spur the development of local infrastructure that benefits tourists and locals alike. Despite these benefits, and despite the active engagement of locals in its promotion, the Costa Ricans with whom I have spoken nevertheless express anxiety about their country’s continued dependence on outside investment, whether it be in the form of factories or hotel reservations.
Ironically, it is now coffee – a crop always destined for export – that is the industry least under foreign control (though it, too, has its share of foreign ownership). When Starbucks announced its new café, the Tico Times, the English-language newspaper, asked if the Starbucks culture could survive in Costa Rica – not if Costa Rica could survive Starbucks.
Perhaps Luis isn’t taking a socioeconomic step backwards in his return to coffee. Perhaps he is instead at the vanguard of a more diverse economy, one better able to protect its workers against such dependency. Our conversation that day ended as we arrived at my destination. “It’s more work and it’s more complicated to be in coffee, and tourism, and to help my daughter,” he said, “but it’s a lot safer.”
Whitewater rafting on the Pacuare River
