Generational Storytelling: Eddie Ryan
Looking Back with Eddie Ryan, Owner of La Costa de Papito Hotel
Written by: Liv Hooson
Photos: Originals from Eddie Ryan
Eddie Ryan is tall, tatted, and as witty as you’d hoped he would be.
Many know him as the owner of La Costa de Papito Hotel Puerto Viejo, a tropical hideaway tucked into the lush jungle of Playa Cocles, but Eddie’s story began long before his adventure to the Southern Carribean of Costa Rica.
The “Baby Boomer” was born in the Bronx, New York—a melting pot of immigrants, music, and food—and is the reason for his distinct accent that can be heard even through his fluent Spanish. He is of Irish, Italian and German descent but his family has been in the city for multiple generations. Eddie is a true New Yorker: proud, self-assured, with an edge that somehow pulls you in rather than pushes you away.
Growing up in a variegated pocket of the city, he was exposed to a tapestry of individuals from all walks of life, until his father, a WWII veteran, was offered affordable housing on Long Island, which happened to be in a white vets-only development. Later, he attended a private all-boys Catholic high school and then in 1966 went on to study business administration at Manhattan College.
Having experienced both discriminative and diverse environments, Eddie prefers the latter.
He was the first person in his family to attend university and he excelled in his classes while garnering the attention of his peers for his leadership. He was also a rebel. Eddie got kicked out of school after a now infamous moment that involved a jug of wine, two girls and Eddie dressed in “borrowed” Catholic clergy robes. He completed his degree in industrial psychology from the City University of New York, but never picked up his diploma and “has never been asked for it.”
His curiosity led him to travel the world, traversing all of China, Europe, and across Central and South America. Years later, he would find himself back at the edge of that same city campus he graduated from in the lobby of a small hotel where his life in hospitality began.
The Carlton Arms on East Twenty-Fifth Street was another NY hotel that had fallen into the dumps during the 70s, and this one in particular was for “life’s lost and lonely.”
“Anyone else would have run, but I loved it. I thought I had the capacity to mingle with these people on the fringe—later realizing I was one of em’.”
Both the employees and the guests were unstable: cons, hookers, criminals, drug-addicted, marginalized souls. Rooms were cheap and there were no rules. He brought his sister Kitty in to work with him and a few friends to support his work as manager of what could be a scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
“As a single occupancy hotel, compulsion crawled the hallways. And lo and behold, it made the blood of the artist boil.”
By tossing convention to the wayside, Eddie and his comrades seduced the artist to work with living spaces where a mixed bag of guests would pass the night. There was a coffin in the lobby and punched-out holes in the wall became framed art pieces. During opening events, Herman, a one-eyed Puerto Rican-Jewish junkie would serve drinks to visitors when not hallucinating about mice taking his one good eye.
“Ultimately, the Carlton Arms Hotel underwent a process, room by room by room. As one person left, we would white out the room and invite an artist to move into the space and copulate with darkness.”
Rooms were filled with plaster sculptures of dogs on the ceiling, another resembled the engine room of a submarine, and yet another a Hindu Temple. Famous graffiti artists made merchandise for them, Banksy even came and created a piece. They were attracting attention from the press, celebrities, and international visitors. People Magazine called it a “live-in museum.”
“It went from fringe to interesting. The Carlton Arms Hotel is the sum of its parts, an organism with a collective soul, animated with the breath of its creators.” It is still in operation, independently-run, with an artist-in-residency program, and a constant renewal of art.
Eddie was at the helm for 11 years, but the stories he has could add up to a few lifetimes. You might say the hotel was his first legacy, and like all good stories, it came to an end.
From the Concrete to the Caribbean Jungle
Eddie first visited Puerto Viejo in the 1980s, becoming transfixed with the rural town; its Afro-Carribean inhabitants and its overwhelming wildlife. After a few years of frequent trips, he purchased his plot of land in Cocles where his hotel now sits. To conceptualize the building process for his property, Eddie went to New York City’s Central Park to map out the structures using string and stakes in the ground, using his own two feet used to calculate the measurement of the rooms. He also took Spanish classes at the Fashion Institute of Technology and casually read the dictionary to beef up his vocabulary.
“It was always my intention to come and be a part of this place and that started with knowing the language. What I would learn is that Costa Ricans have a great sense of humor. And now I could play as well.”
He packed up from Brooklyn and dropped his bags in Puerto. It was 1993. “This place was isolated,” he says. It took 7 hours by train to get there from San Jose, bridges in town were made of fallen trees, swampland was filled in with coconuts where businesses now stand, and there was maybe 1 policeman.
Besides the locals, there were a few American surfers and a handful of immigrants living here.
Maritza Hotel had one of the only soda’s and Chaman Mercadito was once where Manuel Leon had cabinas for rent. Eddie’s diet was chicken, fish, canned tuna and sardines, and whatever fruits and vegetables he could source locally. He thought it was insane to have rice and beans for breakfast but now gallo pinto is a regular at their table.
He began developing his property, paso a paso. Planting coconut and palm trees according to the moon’s cycles, something he learned from the Afro-Caribbean, despite
his skepticism. Using mostly laurel wood he built the framework of the cabins, his house, and the hotel lobby. Originally built with tongue and groove construction, he later opted for a more organic style, collecting leftover wood from neighbors to creatively piece together furniture and walls woven with thick branches and tree roots. The young boys in the neighborhood started to hang out around the property, curious about his project while some were hired to chop and pump the manual well.
In town, Manuel Leon had the only phone in the area where the current Grow Restaurant is. You could make a timed call for a small fee. The booth was always crowded, so it became a social outing with people gathered with drinks in hand to wait for their call out of town.
How different from present-day Puerto where smartphones in our palms give us instant access to anyone in the world?
“Everybody had to shop in the same places and get in the same lines. If you were bad to some workers or neighbors, you would see them out in the community and you were held accountable. Some people left Puerto with their tail between their legs.”
Through conversation, he learned about the legends of the pirates who were believed to have hidden their loot on the bluffs in Cocles and it was told that if you were curios about your future, there was a psychic by the bridge who accepted bananas for fortunes.
This was Eddie’s version of the wild, wild west. An uncharted territory where laws were being made as needed. At one town meeting, someone referred to the “foreigners,” to which Eddie responded with: “We are immigrants. What you have created here is wonderful and with your permission, we want to be a part of it.”
Over time, immigrants moved in from the States, Europe, and from across Latin America.
“People were touched by the place and wanted to contribute to it. Today, it seems the majority come for an investment opportunity—asking instead what they can take.”
“The hardware stores have doubled in size to accommodate the development, huge supermarkets dot the landscape and real estate offices are everywhere. Things are changing quickly, both the people and the place.”
Despite the sweeping changes, Eddie recognizes the talented and creative community here, including educated professionals, artists, and innovators who started to make up the burgeoning community.
“I don’t think there’s a rondon quite like this in any other setting in the world.”
Eddie’s legacy comes in the form of his hotel, La Costa de Papito. A constantly developing space laden with memory, historical paintings, rustic charm, and bungalows designed for the “noble savage.”
He is also a legend with the pen, and once in a while, you might see him at Stashu’s performing richly told stories about the Carlton Arms.
And Then There were 6
You should know that Eddie met Auxiliadora “Auxi” (Ow-see) at a hair salon in San Jose. She asked him what style of cut he wanted to which he responded, “Why don’t you cut it as if you were my girlfriend.”
The rest is history. Auxi jokingly says that he brainwashed her. “Me lavaste el coco!”
Auxi first came to Costa Rica at 15 years old as a Nicaraguan refugee fleeing the civil war. Just a few years into meeting Eddie, she had her own salon on the property and was pregnant with their first child, Mickey Dean. Soon after came Juleddi and Auxiela (Ela), with the most recent addition to the family being Juleddi’s daughter A, born in late 2023, bringing the Ryan Castillo headcount to 6.
Eddie’s venture into fatherhood came with a great deal of love and a sense of humor. It also piqued his interest to be even more involved in the town he now called home. “Once you have kids, it’s different. You have a motive to participate.”
The kids attended both Waldorf and secular schools and were encouraged to explore their creativity.
“What I wanted for my kids was to develop a sense of who they were and not be affected by the molds out there. I thought these kids would have a unique adolescence connected to world cultures, a strong connection to nature and to the native African culture and music.”
Ela was a successful competitive surfer competing internationally and is currently pursuing painting and making music. Eddie shares that Julieddi also has an amazing singing voice. “We didn’t have formalized opportunities to learn things like the piano or boxing, but there were people who started sharing their skills in the community and served as mentors.”
Above all else, he knew that finding creative outlets would be a life skill for them, providing a vehicle to confront self-doubt and anxiety. He also taugh them to finish what they started. “I mean, I never did,” he says with a laugh.
Mickey was responsible for the family’s passion for surfing, leading them out to the warm waters’ edge and rough breaks not for the faint of heart. Getting barrelled with the boys of Puerto was his youth’s pastime but Eddie said Mickey also had a strong passion for expressing himself. It was when he brought him to a film festival in the capital city where his passion for visual storytelling was sparked.
“Mickey has gifts. His most recent project, El Gran Error: Caso Kekoldi, has the potential to rock the boat and create a national conversation,” he says.
At a recent wake he attended, he encountered his old friend Berto who reminded him of that time long ago when he almost got “kicked out” of town by the cleaner ants.
You know the kind. They come in thousands, thick-bodied, marching confidently into the privacy of your home to clean the dead insects from every corner. After a few hours, they march out the same way they came. Like many who meet the ants for the first time, Eddie was alarmed, convinced this move was a big mistake.
At the end of their conversation, Berto looked over and told him how much Eddie had learned here over the years. “It’s important that you pass that on, Eddie,” he said.
What’s Next?
“The Puerto that I knew, now only exists in my mind. The consequences of gentrification mean that you are losing the host culture. It becomes palpably dominated by people who are not participating in local traditions or social organizations that benefit the community.”
The Puerto Viejo today has more class distinction, people separated by income and interests.
Eddie remembers the 2001 controversial oil drilling rigs that was supposed to be built off the coast of Playa Cocles. “Dangerously dirty,” he called the whole thing. Together, the community rallied in opposition and the Supreme Court declared it unconstitutional.
Another plan was introduced in 2008 to build a marina in town. The community, again, organized against it, arguing that the negative impact on the environment and culture would far outweigh the economic benefits.
“So, we’ve avoided the threat of big oil and the marina project. But gentrification is much more subtle. Fortunately, nature and beauty continue to dominate. People keep diving into the local ethno-cultural ‘Rondon’ (fish stew), and this melting pot creation remains rich and delicious.ψ
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Caribe Sur Rondón Etno Cultural
Autor: Eddie Ryan
El Caribe Sur de Costa Rica no es nada menos que una de las expresiones más genuinas caribeñas. El mismo mar azul, los suaves cocotales, las playas de arena inmaculada, sus habitantes Afro-caribeños, los sensuales ritmos, los exóticos platos, y el candente idioma criollo equivalen a una verdadera experiencia en las islas tropicales. La costa Caribeña es el atractivo bonificado y extraordinario de Costa Rica! Se distingue cultural y ecológicamente y le ofrece al visitante sentir una Costa Rica paradisiaca, distinta al resto del país. Puerto Viejo, Playa Cocles, Playa Chiquita, Punta Uva and Manzanillo. You seen da rest now meet the best! Y “waappin” aquí? (“que pasa” como dice el lugareño). Y quienes son estas fascinantes personas en este rincón idílico de Costa Rica?
Para los indígenas BriBris y Cabécares los extranjeros eran sinónimos de problemas. Primeramente los conquistadores españoles, luego los indígenas Miskitos de Nicaragua y los piratas que hicieron aquí presencias invasoras. A finales del siglo XVIII pescadores de tortugas llegaban de Bocas del Toro de Panamá y de la costa nicaragüense para acampar en estas playas durante la temporada de pesca, entre los meses de Marzo y Septiembre.
Sin embargo la historia de ocupación de la costa talamanqueña dio inicio en 1828 cuando uno de estos pescadores de tortugas, William Smith, se instaló permanentemente con su familia en Punta Cahuita (Cahuita Point) inaugurando así un siglo de migración afro-caribeña (no hemos de olvidar a Horacio MacNish, un indio mitad Irlandés, quien plantó los famosos cocotales desde Playa Negra hasta Cocles).
A esa primera ola de inmigrantes panameños y nicaragüenses se sumaron apartir de 1890 inmigrantes de Jamaica, Barbados y luego los St. Kitt’s y otros lugares del Caribe una vez que se concluyó la construcción del ferrocarril entre San José y Limón. La siguiente “explosión demográfica” ocurrió en 1903 cuando muchas familias afro-caribeñas de Bocas del Toro escaparon de la guerra de independencia entre Panamá y Colombia. La gente emigraba atraída por la belleza natural de la zona e impulsados por el deseo de una nueva vida. Allá por el 1915 se fueron formando poblaciones: Old Harbor (Puerto Viejo), Grape Point (Punta Uva), Manzanillo y Monkey Point (Punta Mona) .Una orgullosa región de fincas independientes que tenían muy poco contacto con el mundo exterior.
Aunque la raza, cultura y tradiciones afro-caribeñas eran foráneas para los indígenas Bribris y Cabécares, se crearon relaciones sociales y comerciales; los caminos fueron compartidos y acuerdos establecidos. Esta colaboración dio como resultado una cantidad significante de mujeres indígenas con hijos de padres afro-caribeños. Fue así como se puso al fuego el “rondon” etno-cultural (“rondon” es una sopa típica caribeña que se hace con todo lo que se pueda encontrar en la casa y el jardin, viene de la expresión inglesa “to run down”).
En 1925 un emigrante Chino llegó a Puerto Viejo quien fruto de su matrimonió en 1938 con una indígena, agregaron con su decendencia un ingrediente más a la sopa. La segunda mitad del siglo XX trajo a ticos de varias partes del país a Puerto Viejo, especialmente a partir de la inauguración en 1974 de la primera carretera de Limón a Puerto Viejo. En los 70, con sus fincas de cacao destruidas por la enfermedad de la monilia, descendientes de los primeros pobladores afro-caribeños empezaron a vender sus tierras, abriendo así las puertas a los primeros inmigrantes europeos y norteamericanos que se agregaron a la olla. En los años 80 la guerra civil de Nicaragua tambien ocasionó una importante oleada migratoria desde ese país. Pero fue durante los años 80 y 90 cuando la migración se aceleró y emigrantes empezaron a llegar de las cuatro esquinas del globo.
Estos ultimos inmigrantes llegaron con sus recursos económicos, mejor educación, y experiencias miscelaneas que aportaron para el rápido desarrollo del lugar. Sin embargo, al igual que sus predecesores, emigraron también para cambiar sus vidas.
Emigraron encantados por el Caribe Sur y su gente, eligiendo participar en esta remarcable sociedad multicultural. El censo del 2000 contó cuarenta y cuatro nacionalidades en el Caribe Sur, todas las razas del planeta estaban presentes. En la acutalidad, más del 50% de la populación está compuesta por residentes que transmigraron en la segunda mitad del siglo XX de otras partes de Costa Rica o el resto del mundo. Estos nuevos pobladores si bien causaron cambios en sus anfitriones también se vieron tocados por esta nueva relación. Los inmigrantes tienen que venir para fundirse, para ser transformados, para contribuir con respeto y sensibilidad.
La sopa ahora es más rica y espesa, con muchos sabores exóticos y provocativos! Son los niños del arco iris. Niños caribeños. Los pequeños Talamanqueños. Multilingües costarricenses. Las indicaciones de la receta nos dice que cocinemos nuestro ‘’rondon’’ con amor, removiendolo suavemente, con el resultado final nuestra personalidad caribeña distintiva. Demos gracias a Sibo (que en BriBri significa Dios) que tenemos buena gente en la cocina.ψ
