A Festive Climate Fair and Oxcart Parade

Happy Birthday to our two wonderful grandsons, Kai turning 15 and Orion who is 12 today! Hope your day is just what you want it to be, full of fun, good food and lots of love from your family and friends. And we hope you both get to visit us in Costa Rica very soon!

Jumping right into my topic, last weekend was the Atenas Climate Fair and Oxcart Parade, an annual celebration in recognition of Atenas' reputation for having "the best climate in the world" and its historical significance as a key site on the road taken by the oxcarts carrying coffee to the port of Puntareñas on the Pacific Coast. Unlike our first year in Costa Rica, this fair day opened to a bright blue sky and the promise of a good day for the vendors in the central park selling jewelry, leather goods, clothing, knick-knacks and aromatic foods. There were trampolines and face painting for the kids and music and dancing for everyone.

Monumento de Boyero

But rather than head into the park, Layne and I had plans for a Sunday hike with Marcial and Seidy. Several of the "Santa Eulalia gang" were off on a trip to Nicaragua for their required "visa run" every three months so they can stay in the country legally, which left only the four of us for our weekly walk. So we gaily hopped on the Santa Eulalia bus for a quick ride into town, then hiked down the main road toward the Monumento de Boyero, dedicated to the oxcart drivers who plied their trade along this road since the time the trail was created in 1843. Although coffee transportation has evolved, the tradition of painting the carts and training the oxen has survived here in Atenas as well as in other parts of Costa Rica.

Along the way we looked behind us and saw a big group of Scouts, boys and girls, skipping along and singing. When we slowed near a bus stop to take a breather, the kids caught up with us and Marcial learned that they were in position to offer refreshments to the parade participants when they went by. It seemed the perfect photo op and the youngsters agreed, smiling and waving for the camera.

"The Last Supper" Bar

We were early for the parade so we continued down the side road into the barrio of Los Angeles where Layne and I lived for more than a year. Stopping at the local pulperia, or small grocery store, only a few blocks from our old apartment, I greeted the nice woman who works there and bragged to her on my improved Spanish language skills. After Seidy bought a bottle of water, we were ready to head back up toward the Monument where we planned to view the parade. But it being mid-morning and this being the remnants of "The 10:27 Club," somehow Marcial found a tiny bar right next door to the pulperia, with only a few stools. Indeed, being located across the street from the Catholic Church and having such limited seating, it enjoys a nickname: La Última Cena, or The Last Supper. Layne and Marcial enjoyed a beer (or two) but Seidy and I stuck to water for now. 

With most of the audience gathered in the Parque Central, the un-crowded Monument park was the perfect place to view the parade, especially since the route took the oxcarts down the main road to a turn one block away and back up on the other side. This being another refreshment spot where volunteers carried tortillas filled with grilled meat to each participant, we had ample opportunity to view the magnificent beasts and the colorful oxcarts, often filled with laughing occupants. There was even some dancing in the street!

Such a beautiful face... 

Atenas High School's Project Blue Flag, made from plastic bottles!

Another colorful cart

Docile oxen gets a pat from his boyero

Marcial chats with a boyero during the stop for refreshments

Beautiful detail in the cart wheel

After the last cart passed by, we trekked the mile or so back to town. Although alcohol is technically prohibited, Marcial and Layne managed to smuggle me a tequila in a plastic cup from the corner bar where they hung out while Seidy and I sat on a park bench and watched the last of the parade circle the park. 

Relaxing in our dead-end street

A visit from a Toucan

Always a thrill!

Catching a taxi back home, the four of us enjoyed the late afternoon view from our front driveway. We were delighted when a beautiful Toucan landed in the tree nearby, the perfect punctuation to a day of Tico culture and good friends. 

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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!

Independence and the Coffee Bean

         Well, today’s the big day. So far we’ve had no word from Monika, our attorney, but we hope that her meeting with Migracion (Immigration) went well and that we will soon be over that first big hurdle. With a change in our status from “tourista” to “in process,” we understand that certain aspects of our life here will become easier. At least we won’t have to leave the country every 90 days.

         This is a big week for everyone here in Costa Rica. Wednesday will mark the nation’s 189^th year of independence from Spain, making it one of the world’s oldest democracies. On September 15, 1821, Guatemala called a Popular Assembly and declared independence for itself and four other Central American countries, forming the short-lived Federal Republic of Central America. By 1838 the Central American Federation had essentially ceased to function and Costa Rica formally withdrew and declared itself a separate sovereign state.

         Back in 1824, the Costa Rican Congress elected Juan Mora Fernandez as the new nation’s first Chief of State. A visionary, he built schools and roads, promoted industry and commerce and was the man who foresaw the importance of coffee as an export crop for the nascent country. Under his progressive liberal guidance, land grants were offered free to anyone who would plant coffee. Through his farsighted leadership, Fernandez helped to create a nation of small coffee plantations, which led to a large middle class of property owners. Even today, many Tico families continue to own their own land with every square inch planted in beautiful dark green coffee plants. And although a group of large coffee barons developed, they cooperated with peasant coffee farmers in processing the crops for export and with their eventual wealth, invested in the nation’s infrastructure, building a new road to transport coffee from high in the Central Valley to the Pacific port of Puntarenas. In fact, it was along that old road that Layne and I took our morning walks last spring. (See my blog post for more on the road and a photo here: http://fabulistadecr.blogspot.com/2010/03/mango-ceviche-and-hiking-old-oxcart.html.)

         The oxen and the boyeros who drove them are commemorated here in Atenas, since the main road through this town was the principle route leading to Puntarenas. At the juncture of that main road and the side road leading to our current home here in Los Angeles stands a dramatic metal sculpture of a boyero with his team of oxen and his cart loaded down with coffee beans headed for the coast. Another tribute to these historical drovers is held here in Atenas in mid-April with an oxcart parade as part of the annual Climate Fair. (See a report on that festive event in this blog: http://fabulistadecr.blogspot.com/2010/04/oxcarts-on-parade.html.)

         Costa Ricans take their independence seriously with parades, festivals and other celebrations all across the country, but having abolished their army in 1948, Independence Day here lacks any signs of a military unless you count the drum and xylophone corps of schoolchildren. Layne and I happened to be here during mid-September a few years ago and were literally stopped in our car tracks by a parade of spiffy marching troops, little girls in brightly colored ruffled skirts and drummer boys proudly strutting along. In recent days here in Atenas, we’ve heard lots of drum practice in the distance so we fully expect a festive week in town. We’ll be doing our shopping early, as most shops will be closed for the celebrations.

         On a recent walk we noticed another piece of Costa Rican history in a neighbor’s yard: three stone spheres, reminiscent of the famously mysterious stone spheres found here in the 1930’s during agricultural work by the United Fruit Company as they cleared the jungle for banana plantations. Some three hundred almost perfectly round petrospheres, ranging in size from a few centimeters to over six and a half feet in diameter, have been found, primarily in the Diquis Delta in southern Costa Rica. Most were sculpted from granodiorite, a hard, igneous stone, or gabbro, the coarse-grained equivalent of basalt and weigh up to 16 tons. How they were made or what they were used for is still a subject of great debate in archeological circles. It is believed that they were carved between 200 B.C. and 1500 A.D., but they had been all but lost by the time of the Spanish conquest of Central America.

         Hoping for a photo, we walked into our neighbor’s yard and found her sitting on the porch. With my budding Spanish, I let her know I was a writer and wished to take a photo of her spheres. She was quick to inform me that they were not originals but said they looked much the same as the authentic ones. After a few photos, we thanked her and went on our way. But today, as we walked along the same street, she intercepted us, introduced herself as Anna and asked for the website where my blog appears. I told her it was in English but that seemed to be fine with her. Maybe she knows about Google Translate. I think perhaps I have a new reader. Hola, Anna!

         And just now on the phone, we have learned the good news from Monika that everything went perfectly today and we now officially have an “active” file. In a couple of months, we should have legal residency and even more of a reason to love our adopted country. I think we shall have good reason to celebrate Costa Rican Independence Day with great enthusiasm this week!

Oxcarts on Parade!

Monday, April 19, 2010
(Note: Click on photos to enlarge)

         This was Climate Fair weekend here in Atenas, the town National Geographic once proclaimed has the “best climate in the world.” That’s quite a reputation to live up to but for the most part, in our limited experience, it has. So with two days of fair activities scheduled, the central park alive with vendors setting up their turquoise-canopied booths and an oxcart parade on the agenda, Layne and I had every intention of spending much of the weekend at the fiesta. But Mother Nature has her own ideas on these things and it is April, after all, the beginning of the rainy season. So when we arose on Saturday ready to catch the 10 o’clock bus into town, we were disappointed and a bit amused to find it was raining with no indication of stopping any time soon. Some perfect climate! Of course, we were not just disappointed for ourselves but also for the many participants scheduled to present events outdoors in the park: an exercise class, a dance performance by some children, other dance workshops, a magician and much more. So Saturday found us ensconced in our mountain chalet, Layne working on his novel and me reading, doing laundry and watching the rain come down.

         In early afternoon, the phone rang - if you can call the timid sound our phone makes a “ring.” More of a tinkle which we can barely hear. The call was from Leigh, a Tica friend we met on the dance floor a few weeks back at Kay’s Gringo Postre's monthly party. It was Leigh’s beautiful daughter and her boyfriend who set the house on fire that night with their skillful and passionate salsa dancing. Since Leigh knew we love to dance, she was calling to invite us to opening night at her new discotheque, El Mirador (The Lookout). As I struggled to understand the directions through her strong accent, I deduced that the location was somewhere just up the road from us. 

         But the rain had cleared by late afternoon so at the appointed hour we called a taxi and headed uphill with no clear idea of where we were going. Remember, there are no addresses here and since it was a new club, the taxi driver did not know the place either. But after a couple of miles of dark deserted highway with Layne and I giving each other a questioning eye, we saw the lights and cars at El Mirador and made our way inside. What a beautiful facility! Situated on the very edge of the mountain (with no doubt a fabulous view in the daytime), the restaurant and bar offers several levels of outdoor terraces and a large dance floor surrounded by countertop bar seating. More remote tables offer a quieter experience. And what tables they are! Clear glass tops affixed to huge - I mean really huge! - gnarled tree trunk bases. With pulsing salsa beats coming from the DJ booth, Layne and I soon joined other dancers with our own style of Latin boogie. It was a great evening.

         On Sunday Atenas dawned bright and sunny, warm and breezy, exactly as the guidebooks promise. After a short bus ride into town, we walked to the park and found it filled with colorful booths and happy Ticos wandering from one display to the next, nibbling on ice cream or sipping cold drinks. In the middle of the park was an exercise group, headed by a muscular guy on the small stage, pedaling away on their stationary bikes with the bright awnings of vendor stands radiating out to all corners from the central plaza. As we wandered along under tall palm trees snapping photos of the crowd, we saw children learning origami or getting their faces painted; we chatted with our own organic vendor, Genevieve, who had baskets of vegetables for sale, and Tom the organic baker, cooking up barbequed pork burritos alongside chocolate chip muffins; we stopped to watch artisans at work designing lovely creations with rock (yes, rock!) or fabric or wood; we inhaled the rich odor of chicharrones cooking in a monster pot and the sweet smells of blended fruit drinks. For much of the day, we simply enjoyed the smiling faces of adults and children alike. At one booth offering beautiful jewelry made from exotic woods, we bought a few gifts for friends and family, pleased with the high quality and low prices. We laughed at the makeshift electrical wiring running overhead through the trees and along the ground, commenting that in the U.S., strict regulations would prohibit such improvisation. Uniformed policia were apparent in the area but they seemed to have little to do besides chat with Ticos and look at the displays.

         When we heard the approaching fire engine wail, we realized the parade of boyeros (drovers) and oxcarts was about to begin so we found a place across from the main viewing stand where spirited Latin music had been blaring from giant speakers all morning. In loud and rapid Spanish, the announcers began introducing the passing parade participants, enthusiastically praising the size and beauty of the animals as well as the intricately painted designs on the carts.

         Atenas and neighboring towns are recognized for their role in the nation’s history as the pathway of the original oxcart trail created in 1843 for transporting Costa Rica’s famous coffee many miles down to the port cities of Puntarenas and Limon for export around the world. Although more modern transportation is used nowadays, the skills of training and working with these magnificent animals have been preserved along with the artistry of painting the beautiful carts. Even the children get into working with the massive animals and one little fellow seemed very much in control of his smaller pair. This young boy’s size and competence drew cameras all around him, slowing the parade until he could calmly make his passage through. In a few cases, the oxen (and some uncastrated bulls!) seemed to have a mind of their own, eagerly pushing forward despite the boyero’s efforts to slow them down with a gentle tap on the nose or a skillful application of the long drover’s stick many of them used lightly across their broad backs. Layne and I had to wonder if there had ever been any wild romps through town when an ox team decided to ignore the boyero’s instructions and literally “bulled” their way through! Not today, in any event, as the fair’s entertainment continued on into the evening’s dance without mishap. But having danced our quotient the night before, Layne and I soon headed back to our little hillside retreat for a quiet dinner and time to start blogging about what was a most enjoyable festival. 

Mango Ceviche and Hiking an Old Oxcart Trail

Saturday, March 27, 2010

(Click on photos to enlarge.)

Where else but in Costa Rica would your new housekeeper, who has cleaned your home only once, bring you a gift of green mangos and homemade green mango ceviche? Perhaps there are other countries where such kindness and generosity would manifest, but I was certainly surprised and delighted when our diminutive maid Dunia, who lives just across the street from us, (see photo left) stood at our gate yesterday calling my name and holding a bag of fresh mangos plucked from her tree along with a delicious dish of chopped green mangos in a spicy citrus sauce. I’m embarrassed to tell you how little she had charged us for three hours of steady good work. Indeed, we feel compelled to give her a raise and we consider her another one of the wonderful benefits of our life here in Alto del Monte.

           Her cleaning job came one day before our friends Kate and Gilberto paid us a visit, just a week after our trip to see them in their remote mountain village of La Estrella (see post at http://fabulistadecr.blogspot.com/2010/03/monster-moths-in-mountain-cabin.html). We didn’t know what time they might arrive on Wednesday since the drive they faced would take them through the wooly streets of Cartago and San Jose, probably a 3-hour trip in the best of vehicles. And their ancient Subaru sedan, named Goldie for Goldilocks, is cantankerous on hills, prone to overheating and loaded with clatters and clanks. Definitely not the “best” of vehicles!

         Fortunately, Kate has a cell phone so she kept us apprised of their progress. Her first report came at about 2:30 p.m. when she called to say they had been driving in circles in San Jose, confused by the new one-way streets. The good news was they had finally found the route out of town and were heading for Atenas, which should take perhaps another hour. When they arrived, she called for further directions. Now remember, we have no addresses here, nor even many street names so here’s what we tell the taxi drivers: Alto del Monte, pasado Cantina Linda Vista, la casa con muro de piedras grande, which means the barrio of Alto del Monte, past the Linda Vista bar, the house with the big rock wall. Think you could find us?

         They would have been all right except for Goldie overheating on the steep grades leading to our location. When they stopped to ask directions, somehow Gilberto failed to fully engage the emergency brake and suddenly Kate, still in the car combing her hair, realized it was rolling backwards! She managed to untangle herself from bags and purse enough to get her foot on the brake, stopping just inches from the small store where they had parked. When she called again, she was a bit flustered from the near miss but eventually, with no more mishaps, they arrived at our gate.

         We spent a lovely evening, talking, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. My Spanish improved by leaps and bounds, thanks to Gilberto’s persistence and Kate’s translations. I had made a Creamy Chorizo and Chicken soup and, of course, Gallo Pinto for dinner, which we devoured out on the patio, watching a magnificent sunset. Although I know they love their cool climate and secluded bungalow up in the mountains, I do think they both appreciated the warm ocean breezes that allowed us to linger outside for hours.

         In our front yard, there are some mysterious fruit trees that Layne and I have wondered about, being lemony in appearance but varying in color from green to orange to yellow, and in size from small as limes to grapefruit huge. I asked Gilberto what they were and he proceeded to pluck a few and prepare a wonderful drink he called “fresco,” which is a generic term apparently for many fresh fruit drinks here. He chopped up some fresh ginger, unpeeled, and whirled that along with a small amount of water in our blender. Then he squeezed juice from the fruits, the names of which I never fully grasped, and added that plus a raw sugar product called “dulce.” After straining this liquid, the result was one of the most refreshing drinks I’ve ever tasted! 

         That afternoon we took a walk down the road through the small Tico village here. With the advantages of having two Spanish-speaking friends along who could converse easily with the locals, we learned some fascinating history about our barrio and particularly the street on which Layne and I take our regular hikes. It turns out that this narrow road was once the main highway down which the now-famous colorfully painted oxcarts carried loads of coffee beans from San Jose to the port of Puntarenas. Although parts of it have asphalt covering now, much of the original stone and concrete surface remains visible, as seen in the photo below. A local hombre named Oscar (shown on the right in the photo) chatted with Gilberto for fifteen minutes or more, laying out historical details of the area. He himself had been born, he said, in the first house on the road, a dilapidated wooden structure which we pass each day on our walks.

         With Semana Santa (Easter or Holy Week) coming up, Oscar mentioned that this road in past years would be bumper to bumper with Ticos heading for the beaches. Now that better roads have been built around the country, especially the new Caldera Toll Road, the traffic here is sparse and the neighborhood quiet and peaceful.

         On Friday, we all piled into Goldie and headed for Atenas for a delicious breakfast at Kay’s Gringo café and to allow Kate to exchange some of her enormous book collection at Kay’s lending library. Afterwards, Layne and I headed to the ferias (markets) and Kate and Gilberto took off for a short visit with his son who lives here. From there, they would return to La Estrella, hopefully with good memories of a visit to our tropical paradise and its colorful Costa Rican history.

         

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.