Tropical Sunset

Sunday, February 28, 2010

         A blustery wind is blowing through here today in a flurry, with gusts up to probably 30 or 40 mph. It’s exhilarating in its own way but for me, still nursing this persistent sore throat, it means another day indoors. Our Villas here sit so high up on the side of the mountain that a very fine mist is being pushed down from the cloud forest above, not enough for an umbrella (in fact, forget an umbrella in this wind!) but enough to dampen my spirits, literally. Looking on Google Earth, I see that the mountain above us climbs to more than 11,000 feet, all the way to the peak of Irazu Volcano. Layne and I took a drive up to the Irazu crater during our last visit to Costa Rica and it was very cold! Hardly what you expect in Costa Rica. The smaller crater is unusual, containing a lake filled with water that changes color from deep green to rusty red, due to the minerals present. Irazu is one of the quiet volcanoes here, although it’s not dormant since it last erupted in 1963 on the day President John F. Kennedy visited Costa Rica. Volcan Irazu was calm following that eruption until some noticeable activity in 1996, hardly long enough past to provide great comfort regarding this sleeping giant. 

(Photo courtesy of www.traveladventures.org.)

         Up the slope to the east toward Irazu, the mountaintop is constantly wreathed in clouds. Our neighbor Denis, the science teacher, paid a visit recently to some friends of his who live up there and they told him they rarely see the sun. I don’t know, there may be some attraction to it, but that’s not why I came to Costa Rica.

         Yesterday’s sunset, however, is one good reason to be here. Late in the afternoon, I looked out front and noticed a golden glow, a kind of ginger-flavored haze that colored everything. I grabbed the camera in hopes of catching some semblance of the flaming clouds above. Traveling very light on this exploratory trip, we only brought my rather antiquated digital camera, opting to leave Layne’s professional-level gear for a future visit. As I stood composing my shots, Denis called to me and identified the glowing, almost bubbling clouds as “pre-tornadic,” adding the reassurance that they were unlikely to create a tornado here. This formation of billowing clouds, he explained, was such that in other circumstances they could lead to the whirling vortex of a tornado but were blowing apart even as we watched. Dennis was also taking photos. With a very strong lens and his high-end Canon camera, he has gotten some great nature shots on his various tourist outings. He offered to send some of the day’s shots to me for use in this blog and this afternoon invited me over to choose which ones, not an easy job for sure. But here are his just slightly colorized efforts. (Photos courtesy of Denis Carnochan.)

         On Friday night, we got our first taste of one of the more colorful aspects of “the real Costa Rica.” In reading expat blogs and other reports of life in Costa Rica prior to our coming here for this extended visit, we had learned that noisy parties, loud music, barking dogs and other disturbances were commonplace in a Tico neighborhood. But since moving from the apart-hotel down the hill with all the traffic noises and fumes, life here in Villas Roma has been muy tranquilo, with only the lowing of the neighbor cattle, a few dogs and a distant rooster or two greeting the dawn to mar the peace.

         But apparently, we have some new Tico neighbors in villa #10 next door to us, and as we walked through the grounds after our dinner out, we saw several cars parked along the drive and a crowd beginning to form on the neighbor’s front porch, with Latin music playing inside and laughter filtering out. It actually looked quite inviting and if I hadn’t been nursing the initial stages of this sore throat, we might have wandered in to introduce ourselves as the Gringo neighbors. As it was, we strolled on to our villa and settled in for the night, enjoying the occasional burst of music and laughter.

         I really was under the weather so I headed upstairs to bed with a book. But a quiet night was not in the cards! The laughter grew raucous with a loud shriek now and then and soon the music gained in volume. As the evening wore on and the crowd grew even more exuberant, the musical offerings changed to karaoke, with several excellent voices taking the microphone and a few others serenading rather off-key. Clearly, everyone was having a great time! It was all quite festive and I truly wished I could have participated. Instead, I took a couple of Excedrin P.M. and closed the doors, blocking out as much of the noise as I could. Later that night I awoke to find the party over and the noises back to normal: a steady tropical breeze through the trees and the pre-dawn quiet of a Costa Rican village. Muy bueno, muy bien.

         

The Chalet de Hazel

Thursday, February 25, 2010

It’s quite cool today and has been raining off and on all day.The English-language paper, A.M. Costa Rica, said that a “cold front” was coming in today and I guess it’s here. But this is unlike the cold fronts that we faced in Northern California. Just for my own amusement, I keep the Pilot Hill weather on my Google home page. Today it was in the low 40’s there with rain forecast for the next two days. B-r-r-r-r. It makes me appreciate this tropical chill of perhaps 68 degrees. In fact, I’ve spent much of the day on the front patio working one of my rompecabezas. Perhaps I should have gotten 1000-piecers as I’ve almost finished the first one, a 500-piece close-up of a hummingbird hovering over a pink flower.

Yesterday found us back on the bus, this time for a lengthy trip all the way to Atenas to look at a few housing possibilities. We are paid up here at the Villas until March 10th and are certain we don’t want to stay beyond that, not only because of the the cool temperatures but also for the high cost of these luxury digs. Atenas, on the other hand, is known as having "the best climate in the world," according to National Geographic. With daily temperatures around 80 F. and nights down in the 60's, the slogan "El Clima Mejor del Mundo" emblazoned on all Atenas buses is well-deserved.

Our appointment was at 10 a.m. with Dennis, a transplanted Florida realtor  and his Tico partner Geraldo of Pure Life Development real estate (http://www.purelifedevelopment.com/). Looking through ads on http://www.amcostarica.com/, I had clicked on a link to their webpage and found a number of very affordable and attractive houses for rent. A few emails had led to this meeting date. 

We’ve become quite adept at taking the bus into San Jose, of course, but making the connection for a bus out to Atenas, and arriving there by 10 o'clock, presented another challenge. As I’ve mentioned in a previous blog, Costa Rica has very few street addresses posted or even street names. Instead, most directions are given by landmarks. The major bus stop in San Jose is known as “Coca Cola.” You might think it was named for a soda bottling plant there but you’d be wrong. Apparently, there used to be one but no more, so unless you know the area, you could easily get lost. Our map of bus lines (http://www.costaricaweb.de/crweb/es/sanjoseweb/index6-sanjose-es.htm) indicated the Coca-Cola stop was at Calle 16/Avenida 3. But again, without the streets being labeled, that was little to go on. And of course, my espanol is still so limited, there was no chance of getting directions from the driver.

But hope springs, as they say! So we exited near what we thought might be Calle 16, planning to walk the two blocks to Avenida 3. After a few minutes of confusion and with our time rather short, we opted for a taxi and $1 later, we pulled up to a maze of buses.

Finding the Atenas bus was easy enough with big signs overhead but as we boarded and were given what looked like a transfer ticket, I tried to ask the driver if we would need to change buses somewhere. As so often happens here, a young Tico overheard my effort and quickly intervened, assuring us in perfect English that this bus would go straight to our destination. He sat down just in front of us and we conversed easily for awhile, learning that his brother works for Procter & Gamble in the Information Technology department and that he, too, hoped to get a job there after college. At last, he smiled and said he would now take a nap until our arrival in Atenas.

Upon arriving some forty-five minutes later, Dennis and Geraldo picked us up and started our tour, stopping first at a modest duplex within walking distance of downtown. But like the Grecia house we rejected, the ventilation here did not seem adequate, the bedrooms were small with only a twin bed in one, plus the neighbor dog was extremely aggressive, although our hosts assured us that he was ultimately friendly. Yeah, right. So Layne and I were in agreement that this was not our place.

We headed out of town, driving 10 minutes or so steeply uphill, well into the mountains above Atenas. Obviously, the next house would not be within walking distance of shops or the farmers’ market, so secretly, I was beginning to have my doubts. But as we rounded the last curve and looked up at a charming chalet above the roadbed, our hopes bloomed.

What a doll house! It turned out to be another duplex, our rental unit a mirror image of the one we could see from the road, the two units well separated by a broad tiled patio. The chalet, with huge windows all around, looks out over a deep canyon to a lush green mountain and beyond that to the Pacific Ocean on a clear day. The new highway nearby has cut the bus trip to the beach down to only 35-40 minutes. And the breezes blowing up the canyon promised the tropical ventilation of our dreams.

The house itself features beautiful polished wood and ceramic tile floors; there’s a nicely appointed kitchen - including a double sink, something we don’t have here at the Villas. The two bedrooms each have a double bed (the upstairs one seems to be a Temperpedic mattress - wow!) and the bath has both shower and tub. The furnishings are stylish and high quality.

There’s even a working fireplace, although I doubt we will need it. A large walk-through closet offers good storage space and an additional storage building is set away from the house. The enclosed porch holds a washer and a dryer - again, a feature missing at the higher-priced Villas. And of great pleasure to me, there are orchids growing in the big yard. The back patio has a bench overlooking the magnificent view. We loved it at first sight!

The owner, Hazel, was there to greet us and she was utterly delightful, a beautiful young woman with long brown hair wearing shorts and a halter top, which suggested the kind of weather we can look forward to. It didn’t take us long to decide this was the place for us. Buses stop at the corner and a taxi ride into town costs only a couple of dollars. And the price? Well, let’s just say it’s less than half what we are paying now! And did I mention? That includes phone, utilities and Internet. Yowsa!

When our good friends, Penny & Joel, arrive at the end of March for a visit, we’ll be able to entertain them in style. La Pura Vida!

Brain-teasers at the Mall

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Today we decided to take a trip down the hill to the closest major shopping center, the Mall de Las Flores, or Mall of the Flowers. In our excursions around San Rafael on foot, we had gone into several small clothing boutiques but I had failed to find the cute, light-weight blouses and perhaps shorts that I wanted and precious few sombreros. My new baseball hat with San Francisco Fire Department emblazoned on it, a gift from Damian prior to our departure, just doesn’t seem quite right in this community; it makes me feel too much like the foreigner that I am. And tee-shirt fabric is pretty heavy for this warm and humid climate. Lesson learned: bring lighter-weight clothes.

The bus was crowded today, even in San Rafael, so Layne and I were forced to take seats apart for the first leg of the trip. As still more people got onboard, many ended up standing, holding on to seatbacks and rails through the bumpy ride to downtown Heredia. But eventually we reached the last stop where everyone got off to either change buses or walk to their destinations. We opted instead for a cab and for about $1.50, we soon arrived at the entrance to the mall.

Now this is a real mall, American-style! Two floors, four wings, each capped off at the end by a major department store and your basic food court, with KFC, McDonalds, Subway, Quizno, pizza, hamburgers, Chinese buffets and more. Nicer restaurants were situated near the entrance but Layne is pretty attached to those $5 Subway tuna sandwiches. Split in half, it’s a cheap and tasty lunch.

The biggest challenge for us continues to be communication. After the “Buenas,” and maybe a “Como esta’,” I’m sometimes hard-pressed to make my wishes known. Occasionally, in our shopping today I resorted to “solamente miranda,” my effort at “only looking,” although I’m far from confident that is the correct form. Still, most clerks seemed to understand and smiled with sympathy at us poor illiterate Gringos. In our first few stops at clothing boutiques, we were aghast at the high prices. Goodness, we might as well be in the States! Little sleeveless tops, gathered at the shoulder or V-necked were upward of $22, more than I had planned to spend on such a minimal piece of fabric!

At last we came upon a shop announcing a 40%-off sale; ah, more my speed. There was a very cute top in the sale rack, just what I wanted. But I was pretty sure the Medium on the hanger would not fit my… uh, shall we say, more Rubenesque form. But I managed to ask the friendly young sales clerk if “Tiene una grande?” which she brought out from the back. Costa Rican women are on average much smaller than most Americans so even the Large was a bit snug across my ample bosom. But it was attractive and perhaps I’ll lose a few pounds, right? So about $12 later it was mine.

On we went, amazed at the vast array of shops. To our delight, there was even an Apple

authorized dealership. We stopped in and had the good luck to find an English-speaking clerk who assured us they do repairs on Macs, an important feature for us if we decide to live here permanently since we both work on MacBooks. Although priced a little higher than online (and of course, much higher than Layne’s recent reconditioned purchase), the computer prices were still well in line with the average cost of a Mac in the States.

At our lunch break, Layne glanced up and noticed a Hallmark shop. Now you must realize that Layne has been totally occupied for hours on end, completely obsessed, you might say, with the book he is writing. So he rarely gets bored. I, on the other hand, don’t handle idleness very well and although we’ve borrowed a few good books from our hotel here, I have suffered through hours of boredom. But I love to do puzzles! So we headed for Hallmark, confident they would have jigsaw puzzles in stock. But how do you say “jigsaw puzzle” in Spanish? I looked in my Palm Pilot but only came up with “puzzle.” Now that’s helpful! Although the small Hallmark store had nothing to offer, the woman clerk seemed to understand our desire and gave us directions, embellished by hand-signals, to a store she thought might carry them. It’s a big mall, however, and we wandered up and down hallways until at last, we came to a large children’s store. This must be it, we thought.

But again, how to ask for it? The clerks behind the counter seemed completely at a loss as to what we wanted: Puzzle, Jigsaw, pequeno pieces. We laughed, we sighed, we finally left empty-handed and headed for the exit. But like most malls, there was a booth near the entrance selling DVDs or some such. So again we stopped and tried to convey our wishes to the worker there. The guard posted nearby came over to see if he could assist these desperate Gringos.

At this point, Layne got creative, indeed brilliant, since pictures speak louder than my poor Spanish. He asked her for a pen and drew some blob-like shapes on a piece of paper to represent puzzle pieces and showed it to them both. This seemed to do the trick! The guard nodded knowingly for us to follow him as he guided us back to the same children’s mega-store. The clerks there smiled broadly to see us return while the guard explained to them what we were looking for. Only then did I realize that I had been using Spanish-to-English in the Palm, rather than English-to-Spanish! Duh! No wonder it kept offering nothing but “puzzle” as a translation for “puzzle!” After a quick chat with the clerks, the guard pointed us toward the games section of the store and as we roamed down that aisle, there they were! From 300 to 2000 piece puzzles in all sorts of colorful images.

Who would guess that the word for jigsaw puzzle is “rompecabezas” - which means, according to my Palm, brain-teaser! And when you think about it, that’s exactly what they are. It also fits today’s search: a rompecabeza, for sure!

The Dancing Gringa!

Sunday, February 21, 2010

It finally rained the other day, on my birthday Thursday, as I recall. Much like Camelot, however, the rain fell mostly after sundown. Only in late afternoon did a light mist begin to fall. It was through the soft spray that I noticed a rainbow running all the way across the sky. In spite of a few drops on my glasses and perhaps on the camera lens, I did manage to capture a shot or two. As I took this one, I saw that it was actually a double rainbow, with a faint second arc above the darker one. Quite spectacular!

The big birthday came and went without much to-do here but we did go out for a nice seafood dinner at a local restaurant, La Barca de Mariscos, which means The Seafood Boat. We had been told it was good but more expensive than our fave next door, La Cubana. (La Cubana deserves a post of its own. It’s truly a Costa Rican classic!) One of the best things about La Cubana is Monica, the barmaid that waits on us each night and who has become something of an amiga, due to our efforts to communicate in Spanish and the frequent laughter that results. Now when she sees us arrive, she automatically brings over two Imperial beers for us oh-so-predictable Gringos.

At La Barca, the extensive menu was entirely in Spanish and included numerous terms unfamiliar to me so out came the Palm Pilot and I began looking up first one word then another. But our smiling waiter soon came to the rescue with an English language version. When we ordered, I told him “Hoy es mi cumpleanos!” Today is my birthday, I said, by way of explaining the bottle of Chiliean wine we had ordered. Soon our generous plates arrived and as we were finishing up, the young man surprised us with a small cake sporting one lighted candle on it! I don’t know what kind of cake it was but it had a delicate custard-like character. Muy delicioso! I glanced into the kitchen area and saw the owner smiling with delight at our pleasure. Happy Birthday to me!

In our walks around town, we had seen a bar and restaurant nearby that advertised Musica Viva - live music - several nights a week. So last night, we decided to check it out. After watching part of the Olympics, we headed to La Caverna, splurging again on dinner out. But since even the high priced dinners here are less than half what the same meal would cost in the states, we figured our budget could handle it. Located only about two blocks from our villas, La Caverna lived up to its name. The music was down some steep stairs in a bar area decorated just like a cavern, complete with fake stalactites hanging from the rocky grey ceiling. With table seating for perhaps 35-40 and no obvious dance floor, it was a cozy cantina but almost empty when we arrived.

However, not quite empty. Seated at a table with another woman and a man was Monica, our friend from La Cubana. She saw us come in and greeted us warmly, laughing as we ordered wine with our dinner instead of our standard cerveza.

The dinner was excellent, one of the best we’ve had. I’m very fond of a certain fish here, corvina, which I think basically means sea bass. I’ve had it breaded and fried or grilled and last night I ordered it with a salsa de aguacate, or avocado sauce. Along with some nicely spiced mashed potatoes, a side of sautéed broccoli and cauliflower plus a small salad, it was fantastic! Layne’s steak was flavorful although not as tender as one might wish but the mushroom sauce with it was tasty.

Then the Saturday night crowd began to filter in and slowly the place filled up almost to capacity. Advertised as beginning at 8:30, but on Costa Rican time more like 9:30, the two-man band finally began, one on guitar, the other with a drum and bongo set up, and both singers with strong voices. It was great music, flavored with lively salsa and Latin beats, interspersed with apparently humorous bits from the musicians, based on the audience reactions. As the only Gringos in the crowd, we never got the jokes but certainly enjoyed the ambiance and the saucy music.

Suddenly, during one particularly lively song, Monica began waving me over to her table. Not knowing what she might want, I scooted over and quickly found myself being pushed onto the tiny dance floor in front of the band with her male companion!

Well, if it’s got a beat, I can dance to it! And I’m not known for being shy so I immediately got the picture and started to dance, joyfully and with wild abandon to the energetic music. Before I knew it, the audience was clapping to the beat, encouraging my dance partner and me in our improvised entertainment. What fun! Now I’m probably known around town as La Gringa Bailando, or “the dancing Gringa!” I can’t wait to see Monica again and ask why she chose me to put in the spotlight that way. Do I have “dancer” tattooed on my forehead or something?

Today was farmers’ market day again and after the regular Sunday morning phone call to my mom in Texas (free, thanks to Magic Jack!), off we went to replenish our supply of fruits and veggies for the next few days. The festive atmosphere of this weekly event brings out the entire town, it seems.

The park was filled with adults and children, many of them watching skateboarders practice their tricks on obstacles set up on the school basketball court, converted into a mini-Olympic course for the teens. After Layne took a few photos of the athletes

in their trials, we shopped for pineapple, strawberries, watermelon, cilantro, avocado and, of course, mango. A couple of the vendors, after weighing my selection, added extra mangos to my bag for free! Muchas gracias!!

In Search of the Perfect Rental

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Another day, another adventure. But today’s outing had a built-in safety feature: our dear friend and real estate expert, Jean-Pierre Pfleuger, was driving.

We first met Jean-Pierre four years ago on our initial trip to Costa Rica when we hired him as a guide to look at property in various areas of the country. At the time, we hoped to sell our California ranchette and buy here in CR, having read enough about the advantages of retirement in this tropical nation to have us hoping for a quick sale and relocation to this land of Pura Vida. Instead, the California real estate market took a plunge and our hopes for a prompt sale evaporated. In spring of 2007, we put the house on the market once more and made a second trip to CR, again retaining Jean-Pierre’s services to check out areas that might offer the combination of climate, culture, location and Gringo and Tico population that we were looking for. But with the economy still mired in the doldrums, no offers came in on our house even at a reduced price. At that point we decided to sit back and wait on the market to recover some. When in late 2009, the pieces fell into place for us to make this extended visit to Costa Rica, we got in touch with Jean-Pierre once again.

At 10 a.m. today, JP, as he sometimes calls himself, arrived in his Mercedes SUV, ready to cart us around the countryside. He has the Tico driving style down pat: go like hell and “trust the force.” On one of our earlier visits, we had occasion to see JP’s driving proficiency in a crisis. Heading back into San Jose on one of the major freeways, we entered a torrential rainstorm such as you only see in the tropics. Water was pouring down in a deluge even as traffic was hurtling along on all sides. With the windows up, the inside air steamed up and the windshield fogged to the point of utter blindness. In the front seat, Layne struggled to engage the defroster by turning up the heat, as we would in our own wintertime conditions. But that only made it worse! In the back seat, I’m in a full-blown panic attack urging caution in driving and speed in defrosting, neither of which was happening. Jean-Pierre continued on at about 50 mph as though nothing was amiss while Layne fumbled with dials on the heater. We began laughing, out of desperation I suppose, urging Jean-Pierre to “trust the force, Luke!” Eventually, Jean-Pierre calmly told Layne that he needed to take the opposite approach: engage the air conditioning to cool down the inside and thus reduce the fogging. As the window began to clear, Layne and I took a deep breath while Jean-Pierre remained fresh as a tropical breeze, still plunging through the downpour at the same pace!

So we have come to have great confidence in JP’s driving skills, but today’s outing lacked any such excitement. As we headed across the top of the city, JP moved easily in and out of traffic, guided through the maze of streets by his German-made Garmin GPS device mounted on the dashboard. It seemed nothing less than a miracle to us that this electronic gadget could actually make sense of the unnamed and look-alike roads. Not only that, but it talked to him… in German and in a sexy female voice! We simply must invest in one of these little marvels for our own peace of mind when heading into the labyrinth that is Costa Rican roadways. We just hope we don’t have to learn German as well as Spanish!

As we entered Alajuela province, the landscape opened onto the lush green mountain vistas that are so much a part of this magnificent land. We were heading for a house in the town of Grecia which had sounded like exactly what we were hoping for; but the things that it lacked were too important to us to ignore: not enough ventilation for Layne’s comfort (hearing aides are a bitch!), a “suicide shower,” which meant no hot water elsewhere, even the kitchen sink, a minimal half bath, a bed that didn’t seem quite comfortable enough to us and overall, a very small house. The price was good and it was hard to turn it down because the neighborhood seemed ideal with the house situated almost at the end of a dead-end street, so no bus fumes or traffic noise, yet close enough to shops for walking. We met an absolutely charming elderly Tica across the street who apparently owns the place but employs Gringo property managers. Virginia was enchanting with her sparkling brown eyes and vibrant energy and fascinating to talk with as her background included some years as nanny to the children of the Fleishmann family. That would be the Fleishmann’s of margarine and yeast fame! Mega-rich! She had lived in New York, Washington, D.C. and parts of Europe in her colorful career, only returning to Costa Rica at age 65. She explained with justified pride that she had saved her money and built her own house and the one next door, as well as owning the rental across the street. She sent us for lunch to her cousin’s restaurant just a few blocks away where we enjoyed enormous and delicious plate lunches for only a few dollars each. We hope we didn’t make a bad decision in turning this place down but since we have almost three weeks remaining in our current villa, we figure we have time to find something that will be just right.

As we left Grecia, Jean-Pierre headed northwest to the small town of Sarchi, made famous by the hand-crafted natural wood furniture and colorful oxcarts created by the local artisans there. JP drove us to the central park where a huge oxcart is displayed just across from the local church. It seemed

like a photo op so we parked and played tourist for a few minutes, with Jean-Pierre and I posing before the oxcart, then Layne and I standing before the church. Good memories are made this way and good friendships can be the result. We consider ourselves very lucky to know Jean-Pierre and fortunate indeed to count him as our amigo.

Do You Know the Way to San Jose?

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

You could say Layne and I were part of a small miracle today: we took the bus from San Rafael de Heredia into San Jose and back, without a hitch! But in truth, the credit goes to a Tica woman named, strangely enough, Candy. Here’s the way it went.

We decided it was time to get out of our pristine Gringo enclave and make our way down to San Jose, figuring out on our own which bus to take and where to catch it. No easy task, believe me. The bus system here is excellent, once you figure it out. The challenge is that the streets are not named and buildings and houses have no street numbers. Go figure. How does anyone learn to get around? Trial and error, we assumed, and we set out to make our mistakes and hopefully learn from them. Besides, Ticos are friendly and helpful people, we’d been told, but little did we know how true that might be and how valuable to us.

So with umbrella in hand (even though it’s the dry season and the sun was shining), we walked the few blocks to the major bus stop in our little town of San Rafael about 10 a.m., pausing long enough for a quick photo in the park.

At the bus stop, I asked the driver of a bus marked “Heredia” if he went to San Jose. I have no idea what he said, but it was clear that the answer was No. We stepped back and as I consulted my Palm Pilot Spanish program to see if I could find another path to communication, a woman stuck her head out of the bus window and said to us in quite good English that this bus would indeed get us partway to San Jose, that she would show us where to change buses in Heredia and that we should come aboard. So we did, paying 300 colones, or about 75 cents for the two of us.

Her name was Candy and she explained to us that if we waited for the “San Jose” bus, it would stop at every small village and would take forever to arrive. We learned from her that the best buses are the “amarillo” ones, that is, yellow in color, not red or rojo. The yellow buses are express and make fewer stops.

So off we went down the hill, Layne and I watching the landmarks as closely as we could for future reference. In short order we arrived in central Heredia, a hectic area of shops, restaurants, pedestrians and lots of traffic. We exited the bus, the last ones off, and found Candy waiting patiently for us on the sidewalk. As we started off together, almost like old friends, she pointed out the spot where we would catch our bus to return to San Rafael. Then we walked about three blocks down, past another park and church (they are obligatory here) as Candy explained that she is married to a Gringo and spent some time in the States. As we turned right at a corner store, Layne and I just happened to note the rare but fortunate marking of “Avenida 8” on the store front. After another couple of blocks, the street became lined with buses, one of which, Candy said, was her bus. But instead of stopping, she walked on with us another block or so to the San Jose bus that we were to take. As we boarded, Candy informed the driver in Spanish of our destination and bid us farewell, only then heading back up the street to her own bus. I don’t know if we will ever see Candy again, but we are so grateful to her for her kindness and good directions!

As the bus headed into San Jose, Layne and I began to recognize landmarks and soon realized that we were passing by the area where we had stayed on previous trips, which was only a few blocks from our destination, the Association of Residents of Costa Rica (ARCR), an expats’ organization that provides support and information to transplanted North Americans and other foreigners. So we jumped off a few stops early, over objections from the driver who thought he knew where we should disembark, and made our way to ARCR, where we took care of some business and picked up a good map.

By then we were hungry so Soda Tapia, a popular corner restaurant, seemed a good choice. (Soda means something like “casual restaurant.”) For about $10, we had two large hamburgers and 2 bottles of water. A short walk back to the bus stop and we were on our way home. Thanks to Candy, we found our transfer stop in Heredia with no problem.

After arriving back at our villa, we realized we had failed to take pictures of the buses for my blog post. So we walked back into town, shot our photos and sat down in the park outside the big Catholic Church to people-watch in the late afternoon sunshine. One man, resting beside his bicycle on the bench outside the church, caught Layne’s attention. He pointed out the good photo opportunity and I surreptitiously zoomed in and caught the shot. So I get the photo credit!

Costa Rican Farmers' Market

Sunday, February 14, 2010

So you think you’ve seen a farmers’ market, eh? I’ve got news for you! At today’s market in the central square of San Rafael, Heredia, it felt like we were at a holiday festival or a street fair. The fruit and veggie stands spanned two blocks and the roadway was crowded with people - children in strollers or hands held tightly by parents, grown-ups chatting, teenagers kissing and flirting, wandering vendors selling lottery tickets, people exiting the large Catholic church across the park dressed in their Sunday finery and of course, the competing barkers in each booth, calling out the attributes of their goods.

It probably took us 30 minutes just to walk through the throngs from one end to the other, making mental note of the best-looking tomatoes or cilantro or papaya for our eventual purchases. There were big bins of potatoes, onions, broccoli, garlic, tomatoes, avocados, sweet chilies (alas, no jalapeno in sight!), mangos, ripe pineapple, gorgeous strawberries and other berries, small green pears, ripe watermelon, cantaloupe, corn, beets, and to us norte americanos a few other mysterious-looking vegetables. Plus, a few stalls offered colorful flowers for sale including orchids (which tempted me greatly!), red ginger, bird of paradise and other unfamiliar but beautiful blossoms. And bananas!!

Entire stalls were devoted to this popular fruit and its relative, a Costa Rican favorite, plantain. (Note to self: I must learn to cook that.) At the stands offering coconuts, the vendor would simply cut off the top and insert a straw for the buyer to drink the sweet juice directly. It was all quite a vision! We bought two bags full of goodies and spent perhaps $10. I really lost count as it was all in colones and I often simply held out my hand full of coins and let the seller select the proper amount. The prices were very cheap!

This was truly a fantasy come true for Layne and me. In imagining our lives here in Costa Rica, we had envisioned living close enough to a town center to be able to walk to the farmers’ market each week. And obviously, this is exactly what many residents do to fill their cupboards for their week’s fare. It also seemed like a community party of sorts, with laughter and friendly greetings all around.

As we strolled back to our villa, we happened upon a small restaurant with whole chickens roasting on a spit. It smelled so good! We stopped and bought one for our dinner. For only 4350 colones, or about $7, we got a large chicken, a package of corn tortillas and a baggie of pickled veggies. The roasted bird is delicious, tender and juicy and well seasoned. We plan a dinner of chicken, roasted potatoes and mango, and some not-hot guacamole as an appetizer. We do miss those jalapeno peppers!

Spoiled Americans

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Without a schedule to stick to on this blog, time does pass and things do happen without being recorded. Biggest news: We moved. After two pretty miserable nights, we found that the apart-hotel just didn’t quite cut it for our “spoiled American sensibilities,” as Layne put it on Facebook. I suppose that is accurate for the most part, although I’m a little embarrassed by it. But with Layne beginning to suffer from carbon monoxide poisoning (seriously!) from the endless train of cars, buses and motorcycles, all lacking the most basic of mufflers, plus with a “suicide” shower to contend with, no restaurants close by and a few more unpleasant challenges, we bit the bullet of more money and moved to the much nicer property owned by the same company.

Now this is more like it!

It’s really a house, set inside a park-like gated street with only 10 homes on it, mostly occupied by Gringos, it seems. So far we’ve only met one neighbor, a retired Canadian schoolteacher (science and art, of all things) who left minus-59 degree weather to come here! I’ll bet that was an easy decision. He says there’s a professor on sabbatical, and two constitutional attorneys in houses across from us. Other than that, we have no idea who the other residents are, although we have seen several children at play and have been visited by a well-fed grey cat and a cute grey kitten, both of which simply walked in through our open doors. The yards are full of flowering plants and trees, in shades of deep fuchsia, bright yellow, orange and pink. We have a few squirrels in the neighborhood and many birds. In contrast to our earlier digs, this place is quiet and peaceful and feels like the tropical paradise we were hoping for.

Our small backyard shares a fence line with a pasture containing some unusual-looking cattle. The larger white ones have massive backward-curving horns and a semi-hump behind the neck; the smaller brown and beige ones are short horned. I’ve managed to befriend a couple of these creatures, including the largest one. Out of curiosity, I suppose, he approached the fence where I was standing (and whistling) and when I felt I could safely reach through, I scratched his forehead and ear. He seemed to like that a lot. Layne kept warning me of the enormous horns but the big beast appeared quite gentle to me, his big brown eyes softly gazing at me as I talked to him.

Imagine our surprise yesterday when we went for an afternoon walk down a dirt road on one side of our villas and confronted our neighbor cows walking calmly up the street toward us, being gently herded by a man with nothing more than a small stick. The cows had obviously made this walk before because when they reached the top of the hill, the largest one leading the herd made a right turn as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Sadly, we had not brought our camera on the walk so we missed a great photo op, but we suspect this is a regular route for them and hope to still get that shot.

My Spanish is improving daily, out of necessity as much as effort. The Palm-based program I bought several years ago for only $9.95 has proven to be invaluable. With both Spanish-to-English and English-to-Spanish translations, I have been able to buy laundry detergent, Splenda, baking soda (for Layne’s “no-poo” shampoo needs) and salt and pepper, along with known items such as milk (leche), bananas (uh, bananas) and cerveza. Muy importante!

Today we will have lunch with our old friend and real estate guide from previous trips, Jean-Pierre Pfleuger, a charming German man married to a Tica woman. (BTW, for those of you who have asked, Tico is how the local people refer to themselves, with Gringo being the non-pejorative term for us foreigners.) We hope to learn from Jean-Pierre how to find good rentals in other areas that we wish to try, such as Grecia and possibly towns in the drier Guanacaste province up north. For my taste, this town, San Rafael de Heredia, is rather too cool, being situated at about the 4000’ elevation. The days are sunny and beautiful but not warm enough for me although the nights cool down nicely. But it’s quite a trek from here to the beach or the airport so we hope to find a more conveniently located city for our longer-term needs.

Mostly the people we see on the streets respond to our “Buenas” greeting with a friendly smile and a nod. On our walk through the park yesterday, an older Costa Rican gentleman smiled and said “Good morning” as we passed, stopping us in our tracks. He introduced himself as Fernando and we chatted with him for a few minutes, in both my broken Spanish and his limited English, and learned that he had spent six years in the United States. His niece is married to a Marine stationed at Camp Pendleton and he also has relatives in New Jersey. He apparently had taken a cross-country trip from the east coast to the west and raved about what a beautiful land the US is. We hope to see him again on our strolls through the central park, which as in most Central American towns, is directly across from the huge white stone Catholic church.

Tomorrow we will go to this park for the weekly farmers’ market, where we hope to buy onion, papaya, mango, avocado and whatever else suits our fancy. Food is so inexpensive here, it helps to stretch our money considerably, thus allowing us to stay in this higher priced rental. Still, we hope to cut our costs when we move at the end of the month-long stay here.

The most troubling aspects for me so far are the hazardous sidewalks, which have unexpected holes here and there, including treacherous gutters one or two feet deep. We keep our eyes on the ground as we plot our course through town; a misstep could spell disaster. I am also distressed by the lack of care Costa Ricans show for keeping their beautiful country clean. The small river behind our villas is cluttered with trash, plastic bottles, old tires - even a computer monitor was visible from the bridge on our walk yesterday. Perhaps we will find a group in which to volunteer that is working to educate the population on the importance of trash disposal, recycling (of which there is precious little) and care of the environment. The government makes some efforts in these areas but apparently the message has yet to reach most people.

Day One

2/10/10:

Day numero uno in Costa Rica. Like most things in life, if it seems too good to be true, it just might be. Our little apart-hotel doesn’t quite measure up to our expectations. But to use another trite expression: there’s good news and bad news.

The good news is the day dawned (well, at 9 a.m. for us) beautiful and sunny with a magnificent tropical breeze that had Layne singing its praises. The bed was comfortable enough even if the pillows weren't. The Internet is blazing fast and the television has dozens of English-speaking channels. The place is quite clean and the patio and balcony are charming. Still, we were disappointed in the kitchen, which is pretty minimal (but then, I don’t plan to cook much) and the bathroom has a questionable shower system. But if we wanted a typical Tico experience, then we’ve come to the right place!! And the price is right.

Our trip down went very smoothly, despite a delayed flight from LAX to Phoenix that had us running down the concourse to make our connection. But fortunately, they held the plane for us and some 8 other passengers. At LAX, we had a scary beginning as the US Airways ticket agent insisted that because we were scheduled to return to the USA on our 90th day that we would need a visa, only available from the Costa Rican embassy! The rule is that tourists can stay a maximum of 90 days so we felt we were fine and indeed, after checking with a supervisor, the agent noted our record as validated and we were on our way. For the next trip, we may plan to return on day 89 just to avoid such drama. Once in Costa Rica, our passage through immigration and customs was muy pronto (very fast). Apparently, that’s one advantage of coming in at night as on previous trips, it was a slow and confusing process.

Now we have been out for a walk with a two-fold mission: get our passports copied and get a bite to eat since we arose too late for breakfast at the Roma, our apart-hotel.

Talk about being in a foreign country! Oh yeah, it certainly is that. The map the hotel agent provided was, as she had cautioned, not very accurate so after a wrong turn or two and negotiating the utterly hazardous sidewalks, we finally found a place to eat, although not the one she had suggested. Thank goodness for my minimal Spanish; we managed to communicate our wishes to the friendly clerks and wait-staff.

As we retraced our steps, we saw where we should have turned earlier and continued on down that street toward the busy University area where numerous familiar names appeared: Papa John’s Pizza, Taco Bell, McDonald’s, etc. (Watch for the inevitable fattening up of the Costa Rican population.) There was a major bus and taxi stop there in front of the University, so after wandering farther down the hill, we returned to the taxi stand and with my broken Spanish asked the driver if he knew where Apart-hotel Roma was. With his affirmative answer, we were quickly back at our hotel, the taxi climbing the steep hill to our temporary home far quicker than we could have. And the tab was less than $1.

Our neighborhood here is a truly typical Tico one: many corrugated red roofs, houses connected to each other, San Francisco-style, fast and noisy traffic, especially buses and motorbikes (what? No muffler laws?), occasional honking horns and barking dogs, metal bars on windows and lots of kids and adults walking around. We have a small market on the other corner and a meat market across the street. Much to my surprise and perhaps due to my taking two Excedrin P.M. instead of my normal one, the traffic noise didn’t bother my sleep last night. It seemed to die down considerably after about 10 p.m. and although it started up early again this morning, I managed to sleep in until close to 9 a.m., of course, that’s only 7 a.m. for us on West Coast time.

Stay tuned for more of our adventures. I’m still trying to figure out a name for a blog, to avoid having to send my notes to huge email lists, but so far, I’m uninspired.