Costa Rica: Efficiency Experts Apply Here

Big news here in Costa Rica: The city of San Jose is putting up street signs! If you've never had to find a location based solely on "turn left at the red barn"-type of directions, you may not fully grasp the significance of this step. It's not that the streets have no names, it's just that nobody knows what they are. Addresses here are given in 100-meter segments, meant to indicate a city block but it's a loose measure for sure, and distances are counted from landmarks. For instance, our home address is "200 meters east of the Catholic Church, on the left side." But that doesn't get you to our house. What's on the "left side" is a street, which, unless you know otherwise, looks like a driveway, especially since the surface quickly disappears from view in a steep incline that hides the houses below. So there's that. But then, said street has two houses on it; ours happens to be the last one on the left. Try telling that to a taxi driver - in Spanish! So it's a big deal to be getting street signs. First thing you know we may even have numbers on buildings!

The other recent big news for Layne and me was that we successfully renewed our cedulas, the plastic identification card that says you are in the country legally. It's amazing to us that two years have flown by since we got residency here, but it's true. So with our friend Carmen as hired translator, we started the process a few weeks ago. I had already called our residency attorney to learn a little about the process. She explained the documentation we would need, along with a fee of $129 in colones, and she gave me a phone number to set up an appointment. Oddly to us, this transaction would be handled by the Banco de Costa Rica (BCR), a banking institution instead of immigration. Perhaps that just reflects the key point for the Costa Rican government: get the money.

My Cedula

Requirements for pensionado or retiree residency in Costa Rica include transferring $1000 per month into colones and maintaining a paid-up membership in the Caja Costarricense de Seguro Social, better known as just the CAJA, the country's universal health care system. So our first step was for Carmen to call BCR to make the appointment and learn what we should bring. This included a letter from our bank proving we had transferred the required amount of money each month, copies of our cedulas, copies of our CAJA receipt and, of course, those fees.

Next we met Carmen at our bank to get the letter, which proved to be an amusing example of Tico bureaucratic inefficiency. Layne and I had printouts of all the deposit confirmations, which included dates and dollar amounts from our online transfers. When the clerk looked at our paperwork, however, she told Carmen she was unsure whether they were acceptable. Since the banks "say" they only keep records going back six months, we had a moment of panic. If they didn't have the records and wouldn't accept ours, what would we do? Fortunately, after checking with her supervisor, she said our copies were fine. Then she proceeded to handwrite each month's date and dollar amount on a blank sheet of paper to check against the records in her computer. Never mind that the same information was right in front of her on those printouts. But finally, after a mind-bogglingly slow process, she typed up our letter and sent us on our way. Pura Vida!

For the next couple of weeks, Layne and I stressed over whether we had everything we needed: copies of cedulas, copies of CAJA receipt, copies of the bank letter, proof of Social Security income from the US Embassy, a form showing his check is direct deposited here, a letter showing I am his dependent (in Costa Rica, I'm a married woman so dependent on mi esposo) and of course, the money. We had it all organized in separate folders, carefully paper-clipped together.

On the day of our appointment, we had everything with us as we bused with Carmen to the

No photos allowed in BCR, but here's the food service at Int'l Mall

International Mall in Alajuela where the BCR was located. At BCR, however, the procedure was anti-climactic. After a long wait, (Pura Vida again), it was finally my turn. The unsmiling clerk entered in her computer my street address (see above re addresses), asked for my CAJA receipt and the $129, of course. That was it. No proof of income; no letter from the bank; no issue of dependency. She took my picture and my fingerprint - same finger, four times. Go figure. Then in a classic case of ineptitude, she lost all of the data she had entered, had to restart her computer and go through it all again. Hey, lady -- hit Save next time!

For Layne the process took less than ten minutes. In neither case did she ask for proof of income or the letter from our bank, even though that is one of the most stringent requirements. All we could do was shake our heads in amusement and count our lucky stars that our cedulas will be renewed. For how long? we asked the clerk. She didn't know. And neither will we until we receive our new cards. Sigh. Pura Vida indeed.

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Horses on Parade! San Jose, Costa Rica

Ready for the Tope

The day after Christmas is the date of a major event here in Costa Rica. That's the day hundreds of horses and their riders converge on the capital city of San Jose for the huge annual tope or horse parade down Paseo Colon, the broad boulevard that runs through the middle of the city. This year the day was a little cloudy and cool for what is, after all, summer here in Central America but I'm sure the horses liked it. With silver-concho'd saddles on their backs and fancy bridles on their heads, their silky manes and tails flowing, the handsome steeds were ready to prance down the main street to receive the adoration of the Tico masses.

Reading the headlines in A.M. Costa Rica that morning, I learned that the tope was being held that day and, according to the report, would start at 10:00 a.m. Being the inveterate horse lover that I am, I decided Layne and I should bus into San Jose and join in the excitement of watching all those horses do their thing. Taking the 9:00 a.m. San Jose bus would get us into the town right at 10:00 a.m., which should be time enough, given how these sort of things tend to run on "Tico time," i.e., as much as an hour late.

Female policia patrol the street

Ha! Little did we know the news report was wrong. After exiting the bus, we discovered the parade was not actually scheduled to begin until 12:30 p.m. So with some time to kill, we wandered down Paseo Colon where people were already beginning to reserve spots along the street. Ticos love to party and this kind of event is a great excuse to bring out the lawn chairs, a cooler full of drinks and settle down for a festive day of socializing with friends and family.

Large elevated platforms filled with chairs were located in front of some businesses along the street. We stopped at one such place to ask if the chairs could be rented. Yes, indeed, we were told. Only $50 per person for the seating -- but that included alcohol! We said no, thanks, and walked on, thinking, "that's a lot of alcohol!"

Enterprising salesmen were hawking plastic chairs or folding stools up and down the street, while others carried big stacks of cowboy hats for sale, the de rigueur wardrobe for the day. We passed on the sombreros but decided a couple of plastic stools might be a good investment: it was going to be a longer day than we had expected. We parked ourselves in a shady spot right by the retaining rope along the boulevard, bought a sandwich and a few beers and proceeded to people-watch for a couple of hours.

As the crowd grew it became clear that this is a popular event, one Ticos plan for carefully. Some pickup trucks were parked on the sidewalks end-to-end, tailgates almost touching and young people spilling out laughing and flirting and taking pictures of one another. Music blared from boom boxes or car stereos, each musical offering loud enough to drown out the next one a half a block away. Entire families settled down on blankets spread out on the avenue, toddlers crawling into the street, young couples dancing impromptu and moms offering food to all.

Abrazos Gratis!

A group of young women dressed in t-shirts with the words "Abrazos Gratis" emblazoned across the back created quite a stir as they generously offered free hugs then sprayed a hand sanitizer on the lucky recipient. Later a group of handsome and studly young men came along with the same routine: a hug or a photo with one of them and you got a quick spray of the hand cleanser. A clever marketing technique for the sanitizer company.

Just as the policia had cleared the roadway and it seemed the parade might be imminent, an single older gentleman dressed in Mexican garb and toting his guitar came boogieing down the middle of the street, offering the crowd some low-energy Latin dance, apparently hoping for donations to his basket.

Eventually the parade began and the street soon filled with horse clubs and other organized groups of riders. Many different breeds were represented. Large and small, paints, greys, sorrels, bays and chestnuts, with high-stepping Paso Finos making up the largest group.

There were singing cowboys who slowly urged their horses along while they serenaded the crowd, followed closely by vans carrying their sound equipment. As they were well received by the audience, we guessed they might be famous singers here in Costa Rica.

But for whatever reason, there were huge gaps between the groups of horses, long empty spaces with nothing going on. With our bottoms getting tired of the hard plastic seats, we wondered just how long this parade might take. By now it was nearing 2:30 in the afternoon and we were hoping to catch the 3:00 p.m. bus back to Atenas. So even through there was more parade to come, we picked up our chairs and slowly made our way through the throng of people toward the big bus station known as Coca Cola, where the Atenas bus departs.

Next year we'll plan to spend the day. We already have our stools!

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!

(PS - As a holiday gift to my readers, Layne's novel MORAL TURPITUDE is available for FREE through January 31st. (NC-17 but not erotica.) To download it, click HERE to go directly to the book page; then click Add to Cart. You will have to register but it's very simple and you will get no spam. At the Cart page, enter Coupon Code QN77G, then click Update. The price will change to $0.00. Enjoy!)

No Water? No Internet? Pura Vida??

What a funny, unpredictable country Costa Rica is! In my last post, I reported the frustrating saga of the undelivered remote control from SKY TV and the numerous trips to the post office and phone calls to the company trying to track it down. In that last phone call when Tech Support guided me through a repair of the frozen television picture as well as a resuscitation of the unresponsive clicker, the techie had also canceled our order for a new remote control since we no longer needed one. So what happened yesterday morning? At 7:15, there was a call from the post office informing me that the remote control had been delivered. LOL! Somehow I managed to convey the information that the order had been canceled and our patient postal clerk said fine. I presume the unwanted clicker will be returned to SKY. Now we’ll wait and see if the $19 charge for the thing is on our next bill. If it is, still another call will be required to reverse that. Patience, Gringa, patience.

Downtown San Jose traffic 

Meet my dentist, Dr. Alberto Meza

So after being without water off and on for days now, yesterday and this morning we had no Internet. Costa Rica may not be “third-world,” but it’s not exactly “first-world” yet either. As addicted as we are to online news and email and Facebook contacts, it has been a trying couple of days. 

The Internet is truly our lifeline to the world and to family and friends back home. Easing the pain yesterday was the fact that our Tai Chi class filled much of the morning, then in the afternoon we bused into San Jose to my dentist’s office to pick up a night guard. Dr. Alberto Meza assures me that I need to wear this mouthful of plastic in order to protect the implant he did several years ago on my first medical tourism trip to Costa Rica. Being a light sleeper, I do hate the thing. But the implant has been so reliable and trouble-free, it seems prudent to follow the doctor’s orders on this.

The rainy season has evidently started early this year. As the clouds appear here in the early afternoon and the thunder rolls in the distance, it’s clear we’re in for another shower today, the third day in a row for late-afternoon precipitation. At least we don’t have to water the garden so much now. But it could spell trouble for our friends’ Sue and Christine who are due to arrive on Thursday for a visit. As reported in my last post, their original flight was canceled at the very last minute, literally at 4:00 a.m. when they arrived at the gate.  

Part of last year's Oxcart Parade

 La Estrella Valley

But the silver lining to this story is that their re-booked trip is now two weeks instead of only one, giving us much more time to tour the country. And we do have some great trips lined up: sea kayaking and off-shore fishing at Bahia Rica on the Nicoya Peninsula; more kayaking, hiking and volcano watching at Hotel Tilawa on Lake Arenal; enjoying this year’s Climate Fair and Oxcart Parade here in Atenas; and finally, visiting their high school pal, Layne’s first wife Kate, and her Tico husband Gilberto high up in a tiny mountain village called La Estrella, or The Star. Along the way we’ll visit the Gold Museum, the Jade Museum and perhaps the beautiful Teatro Nacional in downtown San Jose. All in all, it promises to be a pretty fabulous trip not only for our visitors but for Layne and me as well. We’ll be seeing some parts of Costa Rica that we’ve never visited and I look forward to sharing some of our adventures with you! Pura Vida!

Kids, More Kids and Orchids

Layne and I have been in a pretty celebratory mood since last Thursday. That’s when we got word that his brain scan had come back normal. Yippee! No mini-stroke! Now that’s something to celebrate. So when we got a last-minute invitation to a little boy’s one-year-old birthday party on Saturday, we were delighted to accept. Plus, some old friends from the United States would be there, grandparents of the birthday boy. We go back many years with Karen and Joe, including playing dress-up at a series of hilarious Halloween parties with Karen’s sisters, Penny and Ruth, both of whom are also dear friends of ours. With the prospect of seeing Karen and Joe, renewing acquaintance with their son Greg and his wife Amanda and joining little Lincoln for his first birthday, we happily packed our swimsuits and got ready to hop on the bus from Atenas into San Jose.

But once we arrived at the downtown San Jose bus station, ironically known as Coca Cola because of its former function, we wondered how we would know which bus to take to Escazu, where Greg and Amanda live. The directions to their condominium complex were typical for Costa Rica: two hundred meters past World Gym on the old road from Escazu to Santa Ana. Not very helpful for getting around by bus and we had no idea what a taxi might cost. But as luck would have it, as soon as we exited our bus from Atenas, a bus pulled in under the Santa Ana sign and in the window was a small placard reading “Calle Vieja.” Old Road! I stepped up to the driver with map in hand and began trying to ask if he stopped near our destination but he sharply ordered me to “Pase! Pase!” -- move out of the way of other riders getting onboard. This was not your typical friendly Tico. He seemed to be having a bad day. Fortunately, as has so often happened for us, a young Tica came to my aide and we learned from her that indeed the bus would stop a block away from our destination. With her help, we arrived with no difficulty and had a wonderful time at the birthday shindig, indulging in Amada’s great bean dip and guacamole, Greg’s delicious grilled shish-ka-bob and laughing as the kids smacked the piñata.

A great breakfast!

Apartotel LaSabana pool area

Before leaving Atenas, Layne and I had checked the return bus schedule and to avoid a late bus ride home, we had decided to stay overnight in the city at our favorite small hotel, Apartotel LaSabana Conveniently located near downtown and with an English-speaking staff, we always enjoy our stays there, especially the fabulous Tico breakfast buffet included with the room charge.

We had heard there was a big orchid show that weekend and being the orchid-lover that I am, I had hoped to attend. Our impromptu trip into San Jose gave me that opportunity. So on Sunday morning we stowed our bags with the hotel staff and headed off for the day’s adventures, catching a bus along Paseo Colon and noting our progress on our GPS, fondly known as “Ilsa” for her Germanic directives.

After the final bus stop, we set off on foot, counting on Ilsa in pedestrian mode to help us find the way. As we wandered along we soon noticed musicians setting up onstage in the Parque Morazon amid signs announcing a Festival de Verano, or Festival of Spring, and the further into the central park we went, the more activities we discovered. Eventually we made our way to Parque Espana where even more festivities were in evidence: huge play structures for the kids, plus dozens of vendors with clothing, jewelry, decorations made of recycled plastic, hand puppets, leather goods, artwork and even furniture made from old computer parts. Then there were the dancers -- the women dressed in traditional colorful full skirts, the men flashing their red and blue bandanas. It was all in perfect harmony with our happy feelings of gratitude for our joy in being together and our good health. Pura Vida!

Eventually we pulled ourselves away from the outdoor festival and entered the grand hall of Antigua Aduana or Old Customs, now known as the Centro del Arte y la Cultura, the Center for Art and Culture where the Asociacion Costarricense de Orquideologia was hosting their show. What a splash of color greeted us! Hundreds of gorgeous orchid blooms were displayed in charming little environments, each designed to show off the majestic blossoms to best effect. As we wandered along the roped off area with dozens of other attendees, the flowers simply amazed us. From the grandest purple cattleyas of high school prom fame to a stalk of the tiniest pink flowers imaginable, the variety and beauty of orchids is simply breathtaking. And of course, here in Costa Rica, the national flower is an orchid by the name of Guaria Morada. As we finished the exhibits and entered the sales area, it was difficult for me to resist buying a plant or two. But with a bus trip ahead of us, it seemed too risky. Besides, orchid plants are for sale each Friday at our feria and it is probably safer to buy one locally. 

Tired but satisfied, we taxied back to the hotel to collect our bags then on to Coca Cola for the trip back to Atenas on the 1:30 p.m. bus. Only the 1:30 bus didn’t show up until after 2 p.m. Even then, the trip back home was unusually lengthy. It seems the powers-that-be had decided to close part of the main road where a bridge is under repair and detour traffic through side streets. It took over a half hour just to get out of San Jose. But that’s why we like riding the bus. As I read my book and Layne took a nap, we stayed tranquilo all the way home. No problema! 

(Remember you can click on any photo to enlarge it.)

Apartotel LaSabana

Happy Costa Ricans!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

         So check this out: in the last blog post I talked about Irazu Volcano, right? The sleeping giant just a few thousand feet up the slope from us. And I bragged, perhaps prematurely, that it has been quiet since 1996. Well, in the last couple of days, local residents in towns on the flanks of Irazu have felt a series of small earthquakes! Now that could mean nothing or it could mean … Dum, ta dum dum … Something!

         Of course, none of these tremors have been more than 3.0 on the Richter scale, so likely it’s just the Goddess of Irazu sighing or shaking her hair a bit. But it does make for a little drama in Costa Rican life.

         We took another trip to the mall today, still searching for clothes for me better suited to the climate. (On our next trip, I’ll pack heavy on loose-fitting cotton shorts and lighter on jeans and jackets.) Once again we needed help in selecting the right bus. The red and white one that pulled up to the stop had signs in the window for locations we never heard of, with nothing about central Heredia, our destination. But as we shook our heads and backed away from the door, a woman from the nearby shop asked where we were going and when we said “Heredia,” she urged us onto the bus, saying it would get us there. And indeed it did, leaving us unclear as to the meaning of the window signs. Obviously, we still have a lot to learn about the bus system.

         While waiting on a bench for the bus, a woman and her little girl walked up. I moved over and said to the child, who was perhaps five years old, “Sentado?” offering her a seat by me. Like many Costa Rican children we’ve seen, she was stunningly beautiful, big dark eyes, straight black hair, exotic olive complexion. But oh, so shy. Still, she took the seat by me and now and then looked up to meet my ready smile. After we were seated on the bus, in what were very tight seats (one of the major differences in the various buses is comfort level), another woman and her little girl sat down in front of us. Perhaps four years old, this nina had dark brown curly hair, pulled up into little ponytails on each side of her head, sparkling (could they be diamonds?) earrings decorating her small pierced ears. Sitting in her mother’s lap, she would peek over her mom’s shoulder to flirt with Layne, a bashful smile animating her pretty face. With saucy Latin music wafting through the bus for a change, and our timid little friend flashing those pretty eyes our way, our ride into Heredia was most entertaining.

         Layne and I theorized that these happy children could explain the January 7^th New York Times report that Costa Ricans are the happiest people in the world, according to three different surveys in recent months. (See story here: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/07/opinion/07kristof.html. The US came in 20^th on one, just for comparison.) If children are loved, as these clearly were, are well-fed and comfortably housed, as most Costa Rican children are, have the security of government-sponsored, excellent health care, as they do, enjoy the benefits of free education, as Costa Ricans have, and live in a country without warfare since they abolished their army in 1948, there is every chance they will grow up to be happy adults. This is not to say, of course, that all Costa Ricans are happy nor that there is not poverty in this beautiful land. We see the shantytown below the bridge on the way into San Jose and it’s not a pretty sight. But fortunately, it is a rare sight.

         Here in San Rafael de Heredia, we see parents walking children to school and back home every day. The kids are in uniform, dark pants and white shirt, a policy Americans could learn from since it eliminates the kind of competitiveness over clothing - of all things! - that we see in the USA. As we stroll along residential streets here, the houses are not fancy but they are secure. The kids are not inside watching TV or playing video games so much as they are outside playing soccer, a national obsession.

         The young adults we have met have generally been in college or working as was Roy, the pleasant young man who sold us our GPS device at the mall. His efforts to practice English and mine to practice Spanish resulted in some humorous exchanges but we did communicate, due more to his advanced English than my pathetic Spanish, I must say. At one point as I was struggling with a Spanish phrase, Layne said to me: “He speaks English, you know.”

         “Yes,” I answered, with Roy smiling in agreement, “but I’m trying to practice my Spanish on him and he’s practicing English on me!”

          We’ve lusted after a GPS unit ever since riding with Jean-Pierre, our real estate friend, out to Grecia. (See post http://fabulistadecr.blogspot.com/2010/02/in-search-of-perfect-rental.html) As I’ve mentioned before, Costa Rican streets generally have no identification, no numbers and no names. But Jean-Pierre drove through the maze of San Jose streets using his dashboard-mounted GPS, confidently following the pathways delineated by the device. We were pretty wowed and realized that, despite the price, a GPS would be invaluable to us in this unfamiliar country.

         So we now have our GPS, I have a new pair of shorts, and my Spanish is improving every day. (Can’t say the same for Layne’s, however!) We’re still evaluating Costa Rica as a permanent residence, but if measured by the happiness of the people here, it’s a big winner.

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!