Giant Grasshopper Attack and Other Costa Rican Excitement

Life is sure full of surprises here, some quite dramatic. The other morning as I was sitting out front putting on my shoes before our walk, I had one such experience. Because of the rains lately, I had taken to leaving my walking shoes on the front porch to avoid tracking mud inside. As I pushed my socked foot down into the shoe, I felt a lump by my little toe. Wondering what could be the cause, I pulled off the shoe and was shocked when a huge insect jumped out and right onto my shirt! I screamed, threw down the shoe and quickly knocked the creature off. It was only a big 3-inch grasshopper but, poor fellow, he took the worst of it as I fear I injured his legs when my foot pressed against him. Still, in my rush to be rid of him, I pushed him off the porch into the grass without memorializing him with a photograph. Needless to say, I have stopped leaving shoes outside.

         A more enjoyable surprise of late was when sitting here at my desk, I glanced out the window and noticed a very large, beautiful green-toned bird sitting on the tree limb. I wanted to grab the camera and take a shot but I knew that he would fly away if I opened the back door, so I settled for studying him carefully enough to locate a photo online. Adding to the day’s amazements, we then spied the same kind of bird while on our walk down the hill. This one perched in trees nearby, always just out of sight for a photo, then landed on the ground where I could almost - but not quite - get the camera focused on his stunning feathers. As we strolled the grounds of Capre Verde apartments at the bottom of the hill, we noticed another strolling critter: a large Iguana. He stopped long enough to give us the eye and for me to shoot his picture before scurrying under the curb. Those are the kind of surprises I like!

         Another pleasant discovery in our first month here has been the growing friendship with our landlords, Odilie and Eduardo. They have proven to be a delightful couple who share many of our interests and some common values. One evening last week, we invited them to meet us “at the rancho,” the covered barbeque area near the swimming pool, for dinner. Back on the day we moved into this apartment, Odie had driven us to PriceSmart to shop and we had bought some bacon-wrapped filet mignons - six for $12, or $2 each. In our first sample, we found them to be quite tasty and we wanted to share them with Odie and Eduardo. Over dinner of the filets and grilled organic zucchini, we laughed and chatted like old friends. Odie described her childhood in a poor family here in Costa Rica where she was working cleaning houses by age nine. Her mother, however, had a vision for her children. Understanding the value of education, she insisted on good grades -- nothing less than a B would do, Odie said. With those good grades as ammunition, her mother applied for scholarships for Odie and her sister and the two young women won an educational trip to the United States. That experience, Odie said, made all the difference. She now runs a successful Spanish language school here in Atenas, which brings people from the United States, Canada and beyond to learn the language in a community-based, interactive program, becoming fully immersed in the Latin culture of Costa Rica.

         Her story led us to a broader discussion of the importance of education in improving people’s lives around the world. I introduced her and Eduardo to the micro-finance concept so well embodied by Kiva.org, my favorite charity, which makes micro-loans to people in developing countries, who cannot qualify for regular bank loans, so that they can grow their small businesses. I told her that the loans that I make are often influenced by the personal stories of each entrepreneur. If the businessperson talks of wanting to build their grocery store or sewing business or farm in order to send their children to school, that individual is very often the recipient of my modest $25 contribution. I mentioned that one of my loan recipients lives right here in Costa Rica on the Caribbean coast and I expressed my desire to go meet that woman and see her operation in person. Hopefully, I’ll be able to make that trip.

         One recent development that is not exactly a surprise is the successful completion of our residency file. That is because our attorney Monika about whom I’ve written here before is so competent and thorough. At her appointment at Migracion on September 13th, our paperwork was deemed satisfactory and we are now legal to stay here beyond the tourista limit of 90 days. Because of the backlog of applicants, it will be about two more months before we get our cedula, the card that proves our legal resident standing.

         On Saturday night we celebrated our new status and braved the continual weekend rains to join two dozen other dedicated music lovers at Kay’s Gringo Postre for her monthly dance party. Layne and I are popular with this crowd due to our energetic footwork and our reliable participation. The one dance we don’t join in, however, is the inevitable “YMCA” line dance with its goofy, but hilarious arm work, forming the letters of the title in rapid-fire timing. But Kay and several zealous women dancers put on an enthusiastic display for the rest of us. As usual, it was a fun evening!

         So now we are preparing for a journey tomorrow across the Central Valley that will undoubtedly be full of surprises. Although we have never met our hostess Desiree in person, we discovered via email and telephone calls that we have much in common. I originally contacted her after seeing her moniker “CdnMorganGal” on the Association of Residents of Costa Rica forum website. I read that as someone with Morgan horses like me so I got in touch through the forum message system. Through a series of emails, I learned that Desiree is a Canadian and that indeed she does have Morgans up north. Since moving here with her husband Tim a year or so ago, she has bought or rescued three Costa Rican ponies as well as a couple of cows. She is even making her own cheese! They have purchased some thirteen acres of land and built a home near Turrialba, where the active Turrialba Volcano belches smoke and steam on a regular basis. That alone will make the trip rich with excitement, no doubt. But we also plan a visit to her friends’ biodynamic farm (see my travel article on biodynamic gardening), a hike down to her very own 90-foot waterfall and perhaps a Saturday night dance party in nearby La Suiza. Sounds like we should expect the unexpected!
(Remember, you can click on the photos to enlarge.)

Mojitos and Mujeres at a Jaco Bar

May 7, 2010

(Click on photos to enlarge)

         With only a few days remaining here in Costa Rica, we managed a quick trip to the beach this week. During our three-month “trial run” of life in CR, we have done very little in typical tourist activities, such as visiting museums, national parks or beaches. Only when friends from the U.S. were here in April did we venture out to Finca Luna Nueva Lodge and later that week to Jaco Beach. But I do love the ocean, the sunshine, playing in the waves, so with some creative thinking, we made our way to Jaco.

         Since we had to go one final time into San Jose to pick up our forwarded mail at the Association of Residents of Costa Rica (ARCR), Layne suggested that we could hop on the San Jose bus to Jaco. Banking on my travel writer credentials, I quickly emailed our favorite Jaco hotel asking about free rooms and sure enough, the manager offered us a complimentary room and breakfast for the next night.

         So on Wednesday, after an hour-long ride into San Jose and a two-block walk to the ARCR office, we took a taxi to the main bus terminal, known as the Coca-Cola station for historical reasons no longer apparent. There is no Coca-Cola bottling company there these days, just a big bustling station with numerous slots for the buses coming and going. Arriving just after 9 a.m. we were dismayed to learn that the Jaco bus had departed only moments before and the next one was not until 11 a.m. A two-hour wait! Enterprising taxi drivers immediately offered us rides but at $90 for the trip, that was not an option. But the Orotina bus was about to leave and since that town is only a short distance from Jaco, we thought we could ride that far and then taxi the rest of the way. Wrong! When we arrived in Orotina we found that taxi ride was still too expensive. Hauling our bags along behind us, we wandered around the central park and soon learned there was a bus about to leave for Jaco, so with only minutes to spare, we jumped onboard.

         Does the term “local” mean anything to you? This bus took an hour and a half to make a 30-mile trip! It stopped for every waving hand along the road, but eventually we arrived on the busy main drag and made our way to the Hotel Cocal and Casino, an historic property located right on Playa Jaco. My first trip to Hotel Cocal was in 2006 when I came to Costa Rica for a dental implant. My darling son Damian insisted on coming along to look after me following the dental surgery until Layne’s arrival a few days later. I was touched by his concern but soon realized that he also had an ulterior motive when we headed straight to Jaco, the best surfing beach in Costa Rica, for my recuperation and his favorite activity! He generously paid for a beachfront room, however, and entertained me with his daily surfing runs while I sucked down Papaya con Leche (a sort of papaya milkshake) to pamper my tender mouth.

         Each time Layne and I have stayed at the Hotel Cocal, we have ended up having a rollicking good time at the poolside bar where we always seem to meet interesting people and enjoy stimulating conversations while we sip exotic cocktails. Plus, with prostitution legal here in Costa Rica, there are usually extremely beautiful “working girls” present as well. Their coquettish advances to male guests can make for amusing visuals, as they try to convey their passions through flashing dark eyes beneath thick lashes or a pink tongue roaming over pouty lips.

         This trip was no exception. After an afternoon on the beach, frolicking in the incredibly warm ocean waters, fighting the current and jumping the waves, then relaxing in the Hotel Cocal’s beachside lounge chairs, Layne and I showered and headed for the bar. Since this is the rainy season, there were few guests around. Plus, Hotel Cocal is in the midst of a major renovation with workers hammering, welding, pouring concrete and resurfacing the swimming pools. Still, the small poolside bar was open with only a couple of customers perched on stools, including one stunning woman in a sexy black sweater notable for the crescent- shaped cutouts on the sides of her full breasts. Her name was Erica and she and I, along with the lovely Nicaraguan bartender Claudia, chatted some in Spanish. Claudia even complimented me on my budding language skills, which seemed somewhat enhanced by the Mojitos I was drinking.

         We were soon joined by a jovial fifty-something Gringo with a ruddy, sun-tanned face and short blond hair named Marc. “That’s Marc with a C,” he informed us. With tongue-in-cheek humor, he sat down by Erica and introduced her as his “wife.” Clearly, they were… uh, previously acquainted, shall we say. His sardonic style got big laughs from all of us and a roll of her pretty eyes from Erica. In the ensuing conversation, we learned that Marc had spent many years working as an aeronautical engineer for NASA at the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida, including during the dramatic days of Apollo 13. We inferred that he has since retired from that profession and had been working to help out at his brother’s company. Three weeks before, Marc had tired of the carping of his mid-manager supervisor and had essentially said: Take this job and shove it! He bought a one-way ticket to San Jose, Costa Rica, and didn’t seem to know - or care - when he might go back.

         Marc had just come from dinner and he raved at length about the Peppercorn Filet Mignon served in the hotel restaurant. Now Layne and I have not been overly impressed with local beef here in Costa Rica. Often it is less flavorful and tender than the well-marbled free-range meat we get in California, but Layne determined to try it. When we went in for our dinner a little later, we had to agree: That steak was fantastic! Fork tender with a peppery sauce that really rocked. Since I tend more to seafood when I can get it fresh, I chose the Blackened Mahi-mahi and it was delicious as well. Accompanied by creamy mashed potatoes, sautéed veggies, fresh warm bread and a glass of red wine, we were satiated. As we sipped the last of our wine and looked out at the glowing tropical sunset, we once again realized just how very lucky we are. Pura Vida, indeed! 

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!