Going ape over cell phones 

Welcome to Providencia de Dota, Costa Rica. Population: Around 300.

Where I have recently landed is about as rural as it gets. Accessible only via 4-wheel drive over steep dirt roads, this hamlet sits in the middle of a river valley about two hours southeast of San Jose, the Costa Rican capital. It’s little more than a church, a school, and a bar, so it was a surprise to find out that this little wide spot in the dirt road is on the brink of a revolution.

During the last week, everyone was talking about it.

“You see the tower?” someone would ask.

“Oh yea,” another would reply. “You can see it from my farm.”

The tower in question is a new cell phone tower, another recent first for Providencia, which got electrified a little under a decade ago. Television has arrived, filling up much time that people otherwise spent uselessly talking to each other. Then came the three private phone lines in town, one of which is located in the convenience store. You can give the proprietor your money and a phone number and he will dial for you while you pick up an extension line. But he’s bad about taking messages.

The people of Providencia know what they’re missing, and they’re looking forward to a new day in telecommunications. While American cities busy themselves regulating cell phone towers out of sight, this one, which loosely resembles the monolith from “2001: A Space Odyssey” that all the apes were so excited about, is a big fat sore thumb on the hill, and I’ve heard it described as “beautiful” three times so far.

Why? Because now the people can talk to each other? Hardly. It’s already possible, through a small network of NOAA Weather Radios sprinkled around town, and through the town’s main hangout: The convenience store. I suspect the real answer is cash.

All over town, you can see people building tourist cabins. Simple little structures ideal for a couple or small family. Slowly but surely, Providencia is turning into a giant scattered hotel. I’ve heard several people talking about how they need to get off to a tourism meeting.

Sure, there’s lots to see, especially if you’re into birdwatching or jungle hiking, but so far, I’ve seen only two tourists in this part of Costa Rica, a country well known for hosting them.

The phones, I suspect, are the last missing link between this tiny town and a tourist revolution. After all, how do you arrange to stay in a tourist cabin without phone or email contact? You could just show up in a remote Costa Rican jungle town, but how many are really going to work up the gumption for that?

And so, as crews work to get the constructed tower working, only questions remain. Will the phone connection bring a new stream of income to this town? If so, how will this influx of outsiders change this isolated place where people still routinely commute by horse? And what if the Internet follows? It would make logical sense, but the phone company here doesn’t have much or a reputation for logical sense, so we’ll just have to see.

So this winter, forget Bangalore and Palo Alto. The most interesting sight along the road to global connectivity is likely to be a little burg in Costa Rica.

Editor’s Note: Because of the sketchy Internet situation, updates may become a little sporadic. Please bare with us.