Margie's Life in Costa Rica

Making Tamales

2010-12-24T12:47:00.000-08:00

Today marks 11 months that Indio and I have been going out, and I have been embraced by his family. This is great for me because I don't have much of one, and certainly no family member in Costa Rica.

It's a tico tradition for the family (women, men and children) to get together before Christmas and make tamales. It is an all-day process, and everything is in Spanish. Even though Indio was up in the mountain working, I went over to his sister Gretel's house at 10am to help out. When I got there, Gretel and her son, Jose, were off buying ground maiz (corn). So I sat around talking with Ana Laura, one of Gretel's daughters, and Indio's closest relative/friend, about her new (fourth) baby and life in general.

When the maiz and stock from the cooked pork were thickening on the stove, we sliced sweet peppers, carrots and green beans, and cooked rice. Every family adds different ingredients to their tamales, and every family boasts that theirs is the best. My landlady, who gives me some of her tamales each year, includes a prune, a raisin, and a green olive.

Along the way, Gretel fed us all (spaghetti, which they call macaronis). Gretel is amazing. She constantly cooks, and she's good at it. A lot of people live in her house and she feeds them all - Gretel, Ana Laura and her 4 kids, Gretel's other kids Sherlyn, Justin, Sebastian, Michelle and Alexa, plus Indio and Fernando (Gretel's brother) - and always has more for people who stop by.

We cleaned the banana leaves, which get wrapped around the tamales. And we took apart a plastic burlap bag, string by string. Each string ties the tamale packet together. Michelle, 11, and I practiced speaking English.

Late in the afternoon, when everything was ready to assemble, we set up two workstations on the porch. This is how I was taught to make a tamale: Lay down two banana leaves (smaller on top of bigger), ladle the maiz in the center, add a tablespoon of rice, one green bean, one carrot slice, one green pepper slice, and one chunk of pork. Fold the leaves into a packet and stack the tamales. The last step is to tie the packets with the string. The firewood is then lit, and the tamales are loaded into a huge pot and cooked over the fire.

Indio came home from work about 5:30, and by 6:30 I had had enough. My back was sore and I needed to stop.

The goal yesterday was to make 150 tamales. I'll get to taste them tonight, Christmas Eve, when we go to Gretel's house. The entire experience was about more than learning to make tamales, though. It was a bonding experience. The family got to know the gringa better, and I got to see and feel what a warm and loving family Indio comes from.

Intro to Lizano Cahuita

2010-12-13T10:08:00.000-08:00

Indio and Me

Saturday night Indio and I attended a 50th birthday party for Ana, a good friend of his. There were about 100 guests, mostly family, plus us. Indio's friends wanted to meet his gringa. I was a hit. His friends wanted to dance with me and give us booze to drink. I made the acquaintance of Lizano Cahuita, a coconut-flavored guaro, which goes down very smoothly. Guaro is a national alcoholic drink made from sugar cane.

The event was held in a big party room way up in the hills between Santa Ana and Escazu. We had to hire a 4x4 taxi to bring us. The food was very good. The chicharrones (friend pork) was outstanding. And the music kept us on our feet almost all night.

Since my last post...

2010-11-22T15:00:00.000-08:00

This is the incredible rainbow that I saw on the way back from Grecia on Sunday as the sun was setting. It was so beautiful that I had to stop by the side of the road to take a picture with my cell phone camera. Indio and I went to Grecia (Spanish for Greece) for an afternoon of dancing to live music at an open-air dance hall. My friends who live there, Lynn and Dolores, said to come on out, so we made the hour drive each way. It was fun, and Indio twirled Lynn and me on the dance floor. Someone stepped on my foot, but this time nothing broke.

The weekend before was Indio's 46th birthday. That Saturday night he and I and Susan and Dale went out to eat then to Coyunda's to dance. The next day I had three of Indio's sisters, a brother-in-law and a niece over for a birthday lunch. But I had a bad headache, so the sisters took over my kitchen and came up with chicken fajitas, flavored rice, homemade refried beans, and a salad. I had bought a chocolate cake at Robin's, and it was a nice family get-together. I realized that my Spanish understanding is improving.

I've been taking care of some medical things lately. I finally saw an orthopedist about the persistent pain in my lower back (sacroiliac joint). The xray showed a healthy spine, but degeneration (arthritis) in the lower area. He prescribed 10 sessions of physical therapy, which, after one session, seems to be helping, at least temporarily. I also saw my internist. It was time for an ultrasound to check my abdominal aorta. My grandmother died of an aortic aneurysm, and my mother had one but didn't die from it. So every couple of years I get checked. The ultrasound showed a normal aorta, but some mild hardening of the arteries, which is probably genetic. My bone dentist test showed that I'm still holding the line at severe osteopenia - my hips and wrist are somewhat weakened, but I've still got good bone mass in my spine.

So nothing earth-shattering is going on here. I have been living in Costa Rica over five years and still love it. The rainy season has passed and the days are mostly sunny with bright blue skies. Life is good.

Cledys Birthday Party

2010-10-28T08:35:00.001-07:00

I want to post more blogs, but I'm too busy enjoying life to sit down and write. Also, I keep forgetting to carry my camera, and blogs are more fun to read when you can look at the pictures.

So thanks to Susan's camera, I have pictures from last night's birthday party for Cledys, mother of six, including my two friends Hazel and Cuca.

Yesterday I got a text message from Yalile inviting me to Cledys's 72nd birthday party at Cebolla Verde, a typical tico restaurant near me. Almost two years ago I met Cledys, Hazel, Cuca, Yalile and a bunch of other great ticos through my Canadian friend, Susan, and my life in Costa Rica really took off. I have been exposed to the real Costa Rica - its culture, food, music, and wonderful people.

The invitation said the party started at 5pm. At 6:05 I picked up Susan and her boyfriend, Dale, who is visiting from Canada, and we went to Cebolla Verde. We were the first ones there. Parties always start late in ticolandia. But then about 25 other people came, and the party began. I had an interesting conversation - all in Spanish, of course - with Carol, whose 29-year-old son Roberto works for the national parks department on the Isla de Coco, which is actually closer to Colombia than it is to Costa Rica's Pacific coast. Tourists pay thousands of dollars, she told me, to visit the island to see its biodiversity, which is why I will probably never see it. But she and her husband, Gilberth, may be invited to go next year as a gift to family members of park employees.

Hugo brought his guitar and led everyone in singing tico songs. A few were familiar, but most were old songs that folks grew up hearing. Hazel explained to me that Costa Rica used to have many fewer people than now (4.5 million now), and they were spread out across the country, which is divided by mountains. These songs traveled from area to area and united the people.

We finally got around to singing happy birthday to Cledys, in Spanish, and then in English. But they never cut the cake. This is not the first party I've been to where the cake wasn't cut. So I went home hungry. But happy to have spent a fun evening with friends.

Trip to Massachusetts 2010

2010-10-10T11:36:00.000-07:00

Susan and me

What wonderful friends I have! I got a chance to see a few of my favorites in Massachusetts on my annual trip back.

I stay with Susan and Mel. Susan and I met at UMass eons ago, but established our friendship in the 80s when she was living in Maine and I was living in New Hampshire. Susan is one of the most generous and caring people I have ever met, and I'm so glad that we remain close friends.

Every year before I arrive, Susan shops for my favorite foods that I can't get in Costa Rica, like Wise potato chips, Kayem natural casing hot dogs and potatoes with real skins. She is an excellent cook. Between her delicious homemade meals and eating out, I gained five pounds in just 10 days this trip. I should be ashamed, but the pleasure of all the wonderful tastes fulfilled me in a way that only a trip back home can do.

I don't know when I became such a foodie, but I certainly enjoy biting into New England boiled lobster with drawn butter, fried clams and onion rings from Woodman's in Essex, lobster salad in toasted buns, creamy clam chowder, fried haddock and Susan's potato salad. My mouth is watering just reliving each of these experiences last week and the week before.

No trip back would be complete without visiting my old Unitarian Universalist church and spending time with Jasmine. She and I toured Barcelona together in May, and it was great to see her again. I am always moved when the choir sings, and when the congregation sings a familiar hymn. This time it was Spirit of Life, which is a real tearjerker.

This year I got to see an old friend, David, from junior high school. We had lunch together and reminisced. He looks the same except his blond hair is now white. But he still has that twinkle in his eyes.

My best day was spent with my oldest friend, Sandy, and Kathie. We met in high school. I had just moved from Beverly to Swampscott and didn't know a soul, and Sandy befriended me. On a glorious fall day, with the sun shining and the leaves starting to turn red and orange, the three of us drove along the New Hampshire coast, breathing in the fresh salt air. We treated ourselves to a fantastic lunch at the Wentworth by the Sea restaurant, where Kathie's friend's son gave us a 20% discount. Our table on the patio overlooked the harbor with tall masts. We enjoyed overstuffed lobster salad rolls, olive focaccia dipped in olive oil and creme brulee with fruit. It was soothing to reminisce about our high school years and friends. One of our classmates, Sally Martin, died just a little while ago. Not only was she Sandy's and Kathie's best friend, but she was Sandy's sister-in-law, too. Sally was a full-of-life person, happy, generous, and fun to be around. Someone took Sally's old blouses and made bracelets with matching earrings and glass cases from the material. I was fortunate to be there when we picked up the finished goods, which turned out beautiful. I got a red checked bracelet with earrings and a case that I put my cell phone in, so now I am reminded daily of Sally, Sandy and Kathie.

Susan had to work while I was there, but she arranged her hours so that we could do what we do best: shop at an outlet mall. Instead of Wrentham, this time we went up to Kittery. Oh yes, I stimulated the local economy with my purchases. In fact, flying back to Costa Rica, I had to pay extra for one overweight bag. I bought a lot of books and vitamins on this trip which weighed a lot.

Susan, Mel and I took a day trip to the western part of the state to go to the Big E, an annual farm show that is like Topsfield Fair on steroids. We saw a sheep being sheared, llamas, cows and pigs. We ate typical fair food: corn dog, the greasiest fried onion rings ever, Italian sausage with onions and peppers, ice cream, nachos. There was a gigantic pumpkin there, and a parade of Clydesdale horses. We skipped the amusement rides, but visited the pavilions for each of the New England states. I slept on the way back.

On my last full day, I visited my Aunt Ethel. Ethel is an amazing person, and my role model for growing older. She is 99 and moved to an assisted living home this year. Also this year, her husband, who was 14 years younger than her, died. She has to sell her house, which she bought as an independent widow in the 50s, to pay for her new home. She and I have a special relationship. We both see the glass half full, if not overflowing. We talked about all sorts of things, and parted by saying, "See you next year."

Pool Day at Rosemary's

2010-08-28T06:42:00.000-07:00

Lisa and Marilyn picked me up at 9am and we drove 55 minutes on the new highway out to Rosemary and Barry's house, just before Jacó. It was an overcast day, but perfect for lounging out in their new salt water pool, and admiring the open view. We saw wild macaws fly overhead, and dragonflies kept up company most of the afternoon.

The others did water aerobics with their noodles, while I babied my sacroiliac joint, which still hurts a lot from the car accident. It was fun and very relaxing, bouncing around in the water, and talking about this and that. I always love to hear Rosemary talk about creativity (she leads creativity workshops for professionals around the world).

Then we muddied up our faces with volcanic mud from the Osa Peninsula. When we washed off the mud, my face felt very soft and light, as though I had dropped a pound or two from my face.

We gathered around a handsome wood table, beautifully set, and dined well. Lisa and Marilyn had stopped at Fresh Market for sandwiches and chips. Rosemary made a salad. Barry had bought a delicious ceviche with different kinds of fish. I brought brownies that I had made. Well, from a mix.

Cerro de la Muerte

2010-08-12T13:17:00.000-07:00

Joy, Sima, Glenda, Rosa, Vicky, Estilita, Carolyn and me

A bunch of my Cariari friends and I went on a day trip to Cerro de la Muerte, the road that leads to the highest point in Costa Rica where it has been known to snow on occasion. It didn't snow where we were, but it did rain. By the bucketfuls. But did that stop us? No!

We rented a tourist bus and were regaled by Marcos, the tour guide who is very knowledgeable about all things ecological. Our destination was the Mirador de Quetzal, which means the quetzal lookout, or vista. The quetzal is a beautiful bird with a long blue tail. Unfortunately, we didn't see any quetzals on our trip because of the rain.

We did see a lot of hummingbirds, though. At the mirador, there were dozens of the tiny birds sipping through their pointy beaks from the feeders. We ate well, too: a plentiful meal of comida típica served family style.

Here we are, drowned rats on a hike in the rain. We saw a 1000-year-old cypress tree, lots of moss, and a primordial forest.

Car Crash a Great Experience

2010-08-10T16:16:00.001-07:00

I was slowing down for a stop light in bumper-to-bumper traffic when the RAV4 crashed into my rear bumper, nearly forcing my car to hit the one in front of it. We got out of our cars, shaking, to assess the damage: his radiator was emptying its contents into the street and his bumper was dented; my entire back end was demolished and I couldn't open the rear left door. No one was hurt, although at the time the back of my head and neck ached, but the next day I was okay.

The law says to leave the cars where they are and not to move them, so the heavy traffic backed up even more and had to go around us. The owner of the other car, Manuel, a businessman about my age, called the transito police, and I called my insurance company. Manuel had no insurance.

When the transito cop arrived, he looked at the cars, which were stilled joined at the bumpers, and told me to move my car to the side of the road. I said that I had to leave my car there until my insurance adjuster came so he could see what happened. The cop said, and I quote as a translate, "I am the transito police, and this is an order. Move your car." I asked if he was going to take a picture of the accident scene, and he said no. I moved my car, and Manuel moved his car, and the traffic breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Manuel was very kind from the get-go. He said the accident was his fault, which was obviously the case, but still, I could have met up against someone who said it was the gringa's fault and could later prove it at the judge's office with a dozen relatives who swore they were there at the time. Oh yes, those things happen here.

I was having a little trouble understanding everything being said in Spanish, until Manuel's daughter, Alejandra, arrived and translated for me. It's funny, even though she talked to me in English, I answered her, the police and the adjuster in Spanish. I wanted to be sure they had my side of the story.

Even though my insurance could have paid for the damage of my car, and then I would have had to pay higher premiums, Manuel offered to pay for repairing my car. He told me to get an estimate and let him know how much it would be. I thought, wow, I'm lucky to have been hit by a good guy.

Manuel's car was towed away, but I was able to drive mine. I went straight to two body shops. One would charge $600 and take a week; the other, recommended by the insurance company, would charge $1700 and take two weeks. I talked with Manuel's daughter and told her I'd be happy to go with the $600 body shop, and she said her father would give me the money so I could pay the shop.

Manuel and I also had to go to the courthouse together to say that we agreed to settle the repairs outside of the insurance company, so we arranged to go the next day. We met there and handed in our paperwork from the transito cop, and showed our IDs. The clerk said that because my car was owned by my corporation, I had to show proof that I was the owner of the corporation. Now, why didn't the transito cop tell me that? Manuel offered to accompany me to the Registro Nacional, a few blocks away, so I could get a Personaría Jurídica. He even paid for it, about $2.60. Then we went back to the judge's office and completed the paperwork. All the time, we were talking about his printing company and the school that he owns where his daughter works, and about my teaching English and being a marketing consultant, and how hard it was to learn a language at our age.

When we left the judge's office, we had one signed document that said we had settled the case. We walked around the corner to make copies for him and me (which Manuel paid for).

Before we parted, I asked him if he had been talking on his cell phone when he hit me. I wondered because his phone kept ringing after the accident. He said no, that he has high blood pressure and was supposed to wait 30-60 minutes after eating before doing anything. He had eaten but gotten right into his car, and was dozing off when he hit me. He said he was glad the accident only cost him money. It could have happened on the highway at high speed, or he could have driven off a cliff (easy to do around here). I told him that it was a shame that the accident had to happen, but I was glad that he was so nice about it and I was happy to have made his acquaintance. We parted with a handshake a kiss on the cheek.

Coco Futbol Team's 40th Anniversary

2010-08-02T14:23:00.000-07:00

One of my two hangouts, El Coco, has been sponsoring a futbol (soccer) game the first Sunday in August for 40 years. I went last year; this year I understood more about futbol so I could follow along better. The game coincides with the last day of a week-long festival in Santa Ana, and La Romería, the day that devout Catholics make their way (mostly by walking) to La Virgen de los Angeles in Cartago.

There were a couple of near misses when the soccer ball (la pelota) went whizzing by our heads, but no one was injured. It was great fun to watch our friends run around, kicking the ball, or at least trying to. It's the fastest I've ever seen them move.

After the game, there was a little parade and my favorite band, La Solucion, was playing on the stage. People milled about everywhere, playing games of chance, Tico Bingo (to support the Red Cross), and generally having a good time. On Sundays, no one stays inside.

Then we went to El Coco for the day. Susan, Indio and I wanted to be sure we got a table, because we knew there would be a lot of people going there after the game. Hugo and his cousin started playing music at 3:00, and we danced, ate and drank until about 7pm.

I am not much of a drinker, and after a miserable 59th birthday spent hugging the porcelain bowl, I stay away from tequila. But guaro, that's much smoother going down, and it packs just as much punch. I hardly ever drink it, but something made me order a shot of it for Indio and myself (Susan had her own whiskey). The look on the waiter's face was priceless. He knows I don't drink much, and I've never ordered guaro before. But he brought two shot glasses, and I downed mine like a trooper all at once. Susan and Indio were surprised and impressed. It kicked in about 10 minutes later. I was happy, happy, happy. And we all had a good time.

Lisa's Belly Dancing Birthday Party

2010-07-24T09:07:00.000-07:00

For Lisa's birthday this year (and last year), she wanted to belly dance. So our lunch group shook our booty to the direction of Lisa's belly dance instructor. There were so many of us, we spilled out my French doors and into the garden.

And of course we dined splendidly on potluck and wine. I tested my culinary skills with barbecued chicken wings and a Waldorf salad. Dessert was chocolate queque from Robin's.

How I Passed Riteve

2010-07-24T08:53:00.001-07:00

Every year in July I have to get my car inspected. Although it's hard to believe, because of all the exhaust fumes from cars, trucks and buses, Costa Rica has strict emission controls and other standards for every vehicle on the road.

In the past, I gave my car to a mechanic to fix anything that Riteve might fail me on, and to bring my car to Riteve. This year I decided to bring the car there myself and save a little money.

Friends told me that my chances of passing Riteve would increase if I looked sexy. So I put on my push-up bra and a low-cut top.

It worked! Although there were several warnings on the report, my car passed inspection.

Barcelona - the last city on my Spain tour

2010-07-16T11:16:00.000-07:00

On May 18, I arrived at the train station in Barcelona, excited to meet up with Jasmine and for us to explore this awesome city. Also arriving this day was a sore throat that would develop into a cold. But I couldn't let that stop me.

Our first night in the city was low-key. We walked around the neighborhood of our hotel, and found a great little restaurant called Lia, where we had pear salads and homemade toasted beer.

On our first full day in the city, we walked all over. To our mutual delight, we found that we were very compatible. We both liked to amble and take in the sights, and we both loved to window shop, especially for jewelry! The stores exploded with colorful clothes and avant-garde styles.

The Picasso Museum was interesting. We saw his earlier work and how he transformed his style over the years. We wandered around the Passeig de Born area and found an outdoor cafe for lunch. We split a great sandwich and salad and basked in the sun.

We kept being portally challenged. I walked into a glass door, and Jasmine stumbled over a threshold. We shared laughs and created memories. At the Sant Jaume Square, I asked a man for directions (yes, those city maps were still confusing!) to La Boquería. He turned my map around, as my eyes followed his finger, I stepped on his foot. I looked down, mumbled sorry, and realized he had a prosthetic leg. He hadn't even felt my foot on his shoe. I thanked him for his help and started to walk away, when Jasmine noticed that he was collecting money and looking for a sponsor for his long-distance bicycle trip. He called himself "the lone paraolympico." We put some money in his hat, and he gave us each his card. He was a very nice, humble man.

We got distracted on our quest for La Boquería, and ended up having gelato on La Rambla, the main boulevard to see and be seen. While we were sitting, eating and taking in the sites, fans of two opposing soccer teams vying for the King's Cup that night were parading up and the down the street, singing, cheering, and waving flags and banners for their teams: Atletico de Madrid and Seville. The atmosphere was festive, and I took a few pictures. One was of a female fan, and just as I snapped her photo, a man came up behind her and made a face. She had no idea he was there.

That night we walked and walked, and to our surprise, we ended up at the harbor. Barcelona has done a beautiful job of building a modern mall and big boardwalk at the water's edge. There are hundreds or thousands of expensive boats docked there, and loads of seafood restaurants.

In the morning we stopped in at the Palau Guell, but there wasn't much to see. So we ambled along La Rambla. We found one kiosque that sold grea, colorful and cheap (2 Euros) earrings and bracelets, and we stocked up.

Then we found La Boquería and our senses exploded! What a colorful indoor market with so many food items! I bought trail mix, chocolate, and sausage. There was every food under the sun.

We walked north along La Rambla. We forced ourselves to see the cathedral, a main site. It was nothing special. We reached the Placa de Catalunya, the main square in the city. It was upscale, busy, bustling, and could have caused sensory overload, but not for me. I loved it! Further north on the Passeig de Gracia, we got to La Pedrera, an apartment building that Gaudi built. It was round and curvy, with chimneys on the roof that were shaped weirdly and used for ventilation.

Ron, my Spanish-class friend from Sarasota, had given me a recommendation for Mediterranean seafood at Port Vell, the harbor, so we walked down there. When I asked for El Rey de la Gamba (The Shrimp King) restaurant, I got three different answers. We walked all over, after we had just walked the length of the city, to find it. It was worth the walk, though. We shared a carafe of sangria, paella, and black rice (rice with squid ink, garlic, shrimp, clams and cuttlefish = marvelous!). It was more than we could eat, so we got it to go, and left it out for a local tom cat near our hotel. Buen provecho, Tom!

We returned to the beach, called La Barceloneta, the next day, by bus. We ate right on the beach, then I stayed there sipping tea and resting the cold in my head and a sore knee, while Jasmine walked the beach. I started reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the first of a trilogy by Stieg Larsson. Ooh, what a good and different book! I got to talking to some young adults on vacation from Switzerland. People-watching produced a naked older man covered in body paint, with his penis flopping around. It was a long one. I guess he wanted to show it off. Everyone he passed did a double-take. Sorry, I wasn't fast enough with my camera.

There was no time to rest after our afternoon out before we headed to Montjuic. We walked downhhill to the Metro, and took the funicular up to Montjuic, then a bus to the Magic Fountain. We waited with the growing crowd to watch a colored water fountain show set to music. It was great! The darker it became, the more we could see the colors reflected in the water. The last song they played, after classical, Spanish opera and Spanish popular music, was about Barcelona. It was very moving.

I met Ron and two of his pilot friends for breakfast the next morning while Jasmine stayed in the room and rested. It turned out that when Ron flies into Barcelona, he stays at a hotel only two blocks from me. At the restaurant, he introduced me to the heavenly tortilla española, an egg, potato and onion omelet. After breakfast, Ron walked me up the hill, past my hotel to Montjuic. I had no idea we were staying so close! We could see the diving boards used in the 1992 Summer Olympics from the front of my hotel!

During the day, Jasmine and I went to see the Sagrada Familia, a cathedral designed by Gaudi. I understood where the word "gaudy" came from. The details, taken by themselves, were admirable and based on nature, but put all together, they made a monstrous mess.

Next we took a taxi to Parc Guell, another Gaudi design that made me believe he had to have been on drugs. There were curvy walls and benches, but lovely views of the city.

Everywhere we went in Barcelona there were performance artists looking for a handout - human statues, musicians, singers. At Parc Guell, I sat next to a headless man. I put some coins in his bag and he got up to pose with me.

That night Jasmine and I met Ron and a friend of his from Barcelona, Mar, for a tapas run. We started at Bar del Pla with beer, fried artichokes, pan de tomate, little fried fish, and something with a fried egg, sausage and french fries. Mar was a delight. She educated us about Castilian and Catalunyan Spanish and the way of life in Barcelona. And she taught me how to flip open a Spanish fan.

At 11pm, we left and went to another hole-in-the-wall restaurant. We had more beer, sauteed mushrooms in oil and garlic, jamon ibérico that was smooth and sweet, more pan de tomate and a seafood salad picadillo. The food was delicious, and I was grateful to have been shown what to eat by a Barcelona native.

The time with Jasmine flew. Just before she left to fly back to Athens, I went to an ATM to make sure I would be able to withdraw enough Euros to last the next couple of days until I returned to Costa Rica. I ran into the same awful problem! I couldn't withdraw any money. I went to three different ATMs, all the with the same result. Thankfully Jasmine loaned me enough to tide me over, and when I got home, I sent her a check. I don't know what it is about trying to get Euros on a Sunday.

With Jasmine gone, I decided to spend a relaxing day at the beach. I put on my two-piece and rented a chair and umbrella. Although there were many topless women there, I decided not to risk sunburn on my delicate skin. It was warm enough to lie in the sun, but too cool to go in the water. It would have been a peaceful day at the beach, but vendors constantly walked through the crowd calling out, "Cerveza, agua, coca-cola, Fanta, cold beer, sexy beer, tattoos, pareos, vestidos, massage..." Finally one passed by with samosas (pastry filled with vegetables). It was very good.

At the beach, there was a group of about 15 people in their 20s and 30s who had brought props: a 50s orange molded plastic chair, a beautician's pole-mounted hairdryer also from theh 50s, wigs, hats, strap-on butterfly wings, an orange paper parasol, a 2'standing doll, a black tutu, a ukelele, and a few other things. For hours, they entertained themselves, and me, by posing in and around the chair and hair dryer, and taking pictures.

That night, I found a great little cafe in Plaza Real and had another wonderful meal: pan de tomate (addictive!), mussels and red peppers. Ooh! I had to go home to Costa Rica so I could stop eating wonderful food.

On my last full day in Barcelona, I took Mar's and Ron's recommendation to go to Montserrat, a sacred mountain where a black statue of Mary and Jesus was found in a cave. I took the hour-long train to get there, then a cable car up the mountain. The views from the mountain were spectacular. I sat in the cathedral and heard the boys choir. Then I took the train back to Barcelona, talking with two young women from Belgium along the way.

The next morning started at 4:10am, with a taxi at 5, and cappuchino and a granola bar at 6. I flew from Barcelona to Madrid, then from Madrid to Costa Rica.

All in all, it was a great trip, good to get away from my routine, and an appropriate way to celebrate my 60th.

Spain - Valencia

2010-06-24T10:16:00.002-07:00

My feet in the Mediterranean Sea

Waiting for the seven-hour train from Córdoba to Valencia, I watched someone eat a typical Spanish breakfast, Pan de Tomate: Half a sub roll slightly toasted, slathered with olive oil, then tomato pulp spread on top, with salt and pepper. When I finally tried it for myself, I was hooked. I've been eating it at home, but the bread here isn't as coarse or as yummy as in Spain.

Once on the train, I met a woman from California, Irina, who was originally from Russia, whom I would spend the next three days with, exploring Valencia. I had wanted to take the train instead of a plane so I could see the landscape going from south-central Spain north to the Mediterranean coast. But after hour after hour of nothing but olive trees, I realized I could have skipped the train. I did observe that olive trees grow from a base of two trunks, so they're easily recognizable.

In Valencia, two high school girls guided us to a bus stop that wasn't too far from my hotel. It turned out that I had booked a hotel right on the beach, with a beach view, A/C and breakfast included, for only 40 Euros = the best buy of my trip. I could see the starting place of the America Cup from in front of my hotel. Irina had booked a private apartment about a mile away and had some problems getting the key, but it all worked out in the end.

View from my room

I am an ocean and beach lover, so the first thing I did after I got to my room was walk along the beach. I saw some creative sandcastles. The waves from the sea, plus the expansive sandy beach, muffle noise, so I didn't hear anything in my room. The water and air were too cold for swimming.

The next day Irina and I took the bus into the center of town and walked - a lot. There was a rally for Tenerife, the team playing Valencia that night, and the fans were rooting loudly. We shopped at a street fair selling touristy things in front of the cathedral. We ate cheap and delicious kebab sandwiches. We found a used bookstore with mostly books in English, newly opened by Andy from Scotland. I got a new Lee Child book, Hard Luck and Trouble, in hardback. Later that night, Irina and I walked the beach, bundled up against the wind, and had gelato.

Breakfast at the hotel was good enough to write about: granola with yogurt (what I eat at home), coffee and fresh-squeezed Valencia orange juice. Yummy!

The following day we bussed to the Museum of Arts and Sciences, a huge complex of science-related buildings with exhibits. We spent four hours at Oceanographic, where we enjoyed the dolphin show, aquariums, water birds and wetland birds. Then we went over to the Hemispheric Imax theatre and saw "Wild Ocean", a movie about the sardine run off Africa and the fish and sea mammals that feed on the sardines.

Later, we bussed into the city then split up. I was faced with the challenge of finding the Feria de las Naciones, an international fair. I actually did find it, but it turned out to be only booths selling wares, that all looked alike, from different countries. I grabbed a caña and a Cuban empanada and sat a while to enjoy them. Then I bussed back to my hotel, and sat on the beach wall, enjoying the salt air.

Spain - Córdoba

2010-06-22T10:26:00.000-07:00

My introduction to Córdoba was a good one. The people at the Tourist Information desk and the taxi driver were friendly and helpful. Plus the rain stopped and it was starting to warm up a little. Things were looking up.

The city map was awful, and I got lost. Apparently, I wasn't alone, because stenciled on a wall was the sign above, Estoy Perdido, which means, I Am Lost.

Because of the cold weather, I had been wearing the same clothes every day, and they were ripe. I handed over my jeans, a t-shirt and a thin sweater to be laundered. When I got them back the next day, the cost was about $15. Arrgh.

I timed my trip to Spain, and to Córdoba in particular, to coincide with the annual Patio Flower Competition. I got a map for the patios that were open to the public to show off their flowers.

My first stop, though, was at the statue of Maimonides, a 12th century doctor, rabbi and philosopher. Rubbing his foot was supposed to do something - bring luck? erudition? - so I rubbed it, then walked down the street to the sinagoga, one of three (two in Toledo) to survive the Inquisition of 1492.

The patio flower map wasn't much better. I simply could not find some of the patios indicated on the map. I learned that the map used previous years' locations. But I did see many of the patios, and the flower displays were pretty: red and pink geraniums, impatients, hydrangeas and petunias. Coming from Costa Rica, though, where there are gorgeous flowers year-round in my back yard, I was a little disappointed.

Patio Flowers

I walked along the Guadalquivir River, surprised that buildings along the riverfront were not developed as restaurants or for tourism. I was trying to find a patio route, but failed. I stopped at a bus stop and asked a cute young guy for bus help back to my hotel area. He said to take the #4, with him. He was studying economics and enjoyed practicing his rudimentary English with me. As the bus made its way past the municipal building, I saw a crowd of people standing on the street, so I got off to check out what was happening.

It was the Hermandad de Nuestra Senora del Rocio - an Asuncion Day tope, a romeria (pilgrimage walk). I got to talking with a couple of Dutch couples and a couple from Toledo. I played translator for all of them. The horses and their riders were on parade. The men were dressed in traditional Spanish garb, and the women and girls were wearing beautiful flamenco gowns.

Two Dutch couples and me

The Mezquita/Cathedral was free before 10am. The building itself was just an immense empty hall with pillars, but with an elaborate altar and side rooms devoted to saints. This was built was a church, then became a mosque, then because a church again - a story typical of cathedrals/mosques in southern Spain.

As I was about to take a picture of the ornate altar, I had to change the batteries in my camera. So I put in the new ones that I had brought, but the camera wouldn't work. Oh no! I was halfway through my trip to Spain with a broken camera. I left and went back to my hotel room, which was directly across the street, and tried the second pair of fresh batteries I had brought. They worked! Then I had to hurry back to the cathedral to get in before they started charging money. But the altar had just been roped off to tourists for a real live mass, so that picture was not to be.

Next on my dwindling list of To Do's in Cordoba was the Alcazar. The map showed it two blocks from my hotel, yet I could not find it. What I did find was the public library, and I went in. It was an old building on the outside, but brand spanking new on the inside. I used the free computers to check my email and bank accounts and to use the bathroom. While I was at the computer, a group of three-year-olds paraded in. They were all attached by a rope and looked between curious and bewildered. They were very cute.

Finally I found the Alcazar. The gardens were lovely, and the sun was starting to warm me up and shine on the beauty. There were purple flowers, red poppies, roses, pools, fountains and a statue of three Christian kings who stayed there when they visited Córdoba.

I spent some time sitting in a big plaza called Tendillas, just people-watching. I observed that women don't show off their big breasts with low cleavage here (in Costa Rica, the bigger and barer, the better). Nor do they have big hips or butts. How can they eat white bread and pastry and not have big bottoms?

Spain - Seville, May 11-13

2010-06-11T14:49:00.001-07:00

So I trained from Toledo back to Madrid and then to Seville, which is pretty far south in Spain. On the train, I watched a forgettable US movie. They hand out earphones, just like on a plane. I watched farmland and empty space pass by the window.

In Seville, my hotel was so obscure that even my taxi driver didn't know how to get there. After I showed him on a map, we finally arrived close enough for me to roll my suitcase down the alley. The clerk and the maid carried it up to the third floor for me. The center of the hotel was a courtyard that acted as an echo chamber. All the noise traveled upward. Plus the noise from the alley traveled upward. And my (private) bathroom was down the hall. It was not a restful place to stay.

It was much warmer in Seville and the sun was out. I toured the cathedral, the largest ever built. More homage paid to saints. I liked the Christopher Columbus part and the crown that contained the biggest pearl in the world as the body of an angel.

Then I climbed the 35 ramps up the Giralda Bell Tower (ramps so the horses could get to the top), and looked down on the city. Seville looked very big from up there. After, I stopped to rest my legs and drink some fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Then on to the Alcazar, which showed Moorish influence in the tiles. The gardens of this royal palace were beautiful and inviting. So inviting that I laid down on a cement bench in the sun and fell asleep. Half an hour later a guard yelled at me to wake up. People were standing around, looking at me. It was funny, but a little embarrassing. I needed a nap!

After enjoying all the flowers in the garden, I walked and walked, taking streets and alleys, getting lost then finding my way again. A lot of stores and restaurants were out of business - a sign of the bad economic times. The sun stayed out til 9ish with no rain. I was wearing my jeans, a t-shirts and a thin black pullover.

I crossed the Guadalquivir River, where crews were rowing and a few kayakers were paddling. I walked from one bridge to another, then down a commercial street and bought a pink blouse to go with my leotard pants. I heard a lot of French spoken.

Then I stopped for dinner along the river. It got cold, and I wrapped my new pink top around my neck for warmth. It was a lovely view. I had a caña (small beer), a tarrina (small bowl) of salmorejo (ooh, a delicious thick soup that starts out as gazpacho, with sour cream and garlic added, and topped with pieces of chorizo and hard-boiled egg). I should have stopped there, but I had already ordered an assortment of fried fish, which I left half of. There was cod, calamare, and a few other fish I didn't recognize.

About 8:30pm, people started pouring out onto the street. Everyone walked, except those who ran. Spaniards love going out at night.

May 12

Amazingly, I slept great the entire night. For breakfast, I wanted something American. The sign at a nearby restaurant said, Omelet with bacon, coffee, toast and juice for only 6.30 Euros. A bargain! I was psyched for real eggs and bacon, sitting outdoors in the sun.

What I got were two eggs over easy (I wondered how to order that in Spanish), two pieces of nearly raw bacon, a hunk of bread from last night's dinner presumably, too-strong coffee, and fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Everything I wanted to see in Seville, I saw yesterday, so today was devoted to seeing/walking in new parts of the city.

I can usually find my way out of a wet paper bag, and I had several years of navigational experience on boats, but nothing prepared me for the map of Seville. And I wasn't the only one confounded. When I stopped to read the map, there were others doing the same thing.

While walking in the center of the flamenco district, passing shops with flamenco dance dressed, fans, hair combs and shawls, I happened upon a store selling dance shoes. I have been on a quest to find comfortable and protective closed-toe, leather-sold shoes to dance in (merengue and salsa) for a few years. I needed shoes that protect my toes that I can spin in. Shoes made for flamenco dancing, it turned out, fit the bill. The black pair that I bought cost 60 Euros. They're not particularly pretty, but they're functional.

More walking and window shopping. The sun came out and went in, over and over. I bought a novel in English by one of my favorite writers, Michael Connolly. Then I stopped at an outdoor cafe, more to rest my feet than to eat or drink. A woman speaking English asked if she could share my table. Diane was in Spain for 10 days - on her honeymoon, alone. She told me right away that she had been stood up at the altar. It was to be her first marriage. He just never showed up. She didn't cry, but she was miserable. She didn't like Spain, she vented about the poor service and lack of clocks in hotel rooms. I lent an ear for an hour, then I had to escape.

More walking and getting lost, then I stopped for a boca of paella and a copa de vino at an arabic restaurant with tile and arches. There was relaxing arabic music playing, and I enjoyed some down time. Later, I walked more, then turned in to read my book.

Spain - Toledo, May 9-11

2010-06-11T13:17:00.000-07:00

May 9

Things did not start out great in Toledo, my second city. I took the train from Madrid to Toledo. When I got there, I learned that I would not be able to take a train directly to Seville in two days. I would have to train back to Madrid, then train to Seville. I didn't have enough cash on me to pay for a reduced fare ticket, so I had to pay over $100 by credit card, plus get hit with a foreign transaction fee by MasterCard.

I took a bus to the center of town and went to an ATM to get Euros. Nightmare! I couldn't get any cash. I tried another bank's ATM - no cash. It was a Sunday and the banks weren't open. I had enough Euros to get me through to Monday, but I started to panic. What if I couldn't get any Euros the rest of my three weeks in Spain?! I looked for an Internet place so I could call Fidelity, which I use as my bank, but the Locutorios didn't open until later.

So I checked into the hotel, and went out to enjoy Toledo since there was nothing I could do at that moment to resolve my cash problem. Toledo is a city built on a hill, so there was a lot of uphill and downhill walking. I went to the Sinagoga de El Transito, one of the few synagogues to withstand the Inquisition in 1492.

The narrow streets in Madrid were nothing compared to the alleys in Toledo. I could almost spread my arms and touch buildings on either side of the street.

Finally I found a Locutorio and called Fidelity. I sounded really upset, and the agent was able to get someone on the line with me from the bank that services Fidelity. On a Sunday! She said that my account looked fine on her end, my money was not blocked, and there were no recent rejections for my account. She couldn't do anything for me. I left and went to a third ATM, and lo and behold, I was able to get Euros. What a relief!

Feeling much better, I walked around until I found a great-looking little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. I sat in the bar area and had a wonderful glass of Spanish wine, enjoyed the best, most tender green olives in tomato sauce with onions I've ever had, and listened to some great old recorded smoky American jazz. My main dish was ensalada de churrasco, a steak salad that was to die for, with carmelized onions.

Toledo is known for a few things: marzipan (an almond candy), knives, swords and guns. I can attest to the marzipan. It is delicious. I thought that I would never again have the chance to buy a really great chef knife at a decent price, so I splurged and bought one. I have been very happy with it. I also bought one for my friend, Patty, who was overseeing my condo during my absence.

I saw my first cathedral in Toledo. What an immense structure! The money that went into building it and adorning it in ornate gold and jewels could have fed hundreds or thousands of people for years. In the room with photos of Spanish cardinals, I couldn't help but wonder how many of those men were child molesters. I am such a cynic. Or a realist.

A great attraction that wasn't in the guide books was the Centro Cultural San Martin. I got free entrance to this bank-sponsored museum, which had an exhibition on nudes - paintings, photos and sculptures. It was the best thing I saw in Toledo.

I took some side streets and ended up walking up a very steep hill. There was a grand view of a couple of buildings. Then I was so tired, I hopped on a bus, hoping it would bring me back to the center of town. As it turned out, after turning three short corners, we arrived in the center.

At only 6:35pm, I took a hot bath and crawled into bed, tired from walking the hills. I listened to lovely classical music on TV, and wrote in my travel journal. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any white noise TV stations for the rest of my trip, so some nights I slept, and some nights ambient noise kept me awake.

May 10

I was up bright and early, eating an apple pastry with cafe con leche. The Museo de Santa Cruz was my first stop. It is a museum about local history. I saw a retrospective of tile-making through the ages and learned about the history of lower Toledo.

It was another day of walking in the rain, up and down hills, taking narrow streets and alleys to see where they went. Stores were open today, so I stopped in to see what was in fashion. In Toledo, it seems they sell either teeniebopper or matronly styles. I bought earrings and a necklace, just cheap costume jewelry.

For lunch, I stopped at Adolfo, a hip, modern place. While listening to Katy Perry sing, I Kissed a Girl, I had a yummy glass of Syrah wine made locally, and an appetizer of toasted bread crumbs sauteed in olive oil with chorizo. I like to order local food, but I made a bad mistake with the half partridge and discolored beans disk (sounds more appetizing in Spanish, judías pochas con 1/2 perdiz). It was my only regrettable meal in Spain. I thanked the bird for giving its life, especially for such a terrible tasting dish that I couldn't finish.

I checked my email at the Arab-run Locutorio, then had tea at an outdoor cafe, while listening to American music. American music is everywhere!

I could easily have spent only one day in Toledo, especially given the rain and cold and only intermittent sun and so few things to see that interested me.

I tried to find the restaurant from the day before, but it had disappeared. I couldn't get back to that alley. I wanted lamb chops, and this was the city for meat. I went back to the restaurant where I had tea, and ordered the lamb chops for dinner. They were tasty, but nothing special. The wine was good, though.

The food may not have been the best, but the people-watching was very interesting. First, there was an overweight, stressed-out mother pushing a carriage with a boy of 1.5 years, which is a difficult chore over the cobblestone streets and cracked sidewalks. Her 7-year-old ADHD daughter was prancing about, running off then coming back, not always finding her mother again. They came out of the Chinese store, a big pulperia that sold everything from cosmetics to housewares to potatoes, and the girl was crying loudly and throwing a fit. Clearly she wanted something inside that store that her mother didn't get for her. The mother talked to her, but the girl kept making a scene - all this right across from my outdoor table. The mother pushed the carriage up an alley; they girl eventually followed. Five minutes later they returned and went back into the store. I could see a long line formed at the cash register. In about three minutes the mother, daughter and carriage emerged from the store and walked to the corner. They could not have stood in line to pay for a purchase. The mother took something out from a compartment of the carriage and bent, with her back toward me, over the girl. A few seconds later, the girl was hopping and prancing very happily, and went over to a car's side view mirror to admire the dark maroon lipstick that her mother had applied to her lips. She stood in front of the mirror a long time, missing the direction that her mother had taken with the carriage. When the girl had ogled herself enough, she went looking and calling for her mama. She entered the Locutorio, where I knew her mother had passed on her way to another street. But then the mother came back to my area, calling for her daughter. They met up again in front of the store. The mother went in yet again, picked up a lollipop, unwrapped it, and give it to the boy in the carriage. Then the three of them left the area.

I was still sitting at my table, sipping my wine, when I saw two guys in their late 20s arrive at the store. The one with hair went inside, while the one with the shaved head except for an island of long curls and a strip of bloodied stitches overlaying his left front lobe, and dirty plaster casts on both his arms, waited outside with their two dogs. I am not making this up. The mutts blocked the store entrance, waiting for their companion in the long line. A woman, I'm guessing Muslim because of her head-to-toe covering (not a burqa), wanted to leave the store, but she was afraid of the dogs. Petrified, is more like it. She looked around, obviously nervous, hoping to find the dogs' owner, but no one came to her air. The injured companion wasn't looking in, so he didn't know that his dogs were causing problems. I thought of going over to help her since I wasn't afraid of the dogs, my body even twitched to move towards her, but I stayed put to watch how the scene would play out. She would take a step toward the street, then back up, step then back up again. Finally, she stepped onto the street, eyes glued on the dogs, who could not have been less interested in her, then she hurried away.

The final interesting thing was two men wearing accordions on their backs stopped in front of the store and had a smoke with another guy. I had not seen any accordions so far on my trip and thought the scene was interesting enough to take a picture of them.

Spain - Madrid, My First Stop - May 5-8

2010-06-11T12:18:00.000-07:00

Me in Plaza Mayor, Madrid

May 5-6, 2010
This trip was over a year in the making. When I finally landed in Madrid, nonstop direct from San Jose, Costa Rica with only a 25-minute nap on the 10.5-hour flight, I was excited and a little awestruck. I used to travel for my work in the 70s and 80s, bopping in and out of airports, when I was young and resilient. But in Madrid, I had to concentrate on understanding Spanish, which, although I've been studying and practicing for five years, still eludes me at times.

But I quickly got my bearings, took out Euros at the ATM with my US debit card, and learned how to buy Metro tickets from a machine. The hostel had sent me directions from the airport, so I got off at the prescribed Metro stop, only to find out that my hotel was not located anywhere near there. A kind security guard brought me over to an information clerk, who looked up my hotel in the phone book, then told me which stop I needed. The guard let me enter the Metro without paying again, and I was on my way, lugging my suitcase behind me. So my first experience of the people in Madrid was very friendly = muy amable.

My private room at the hostel could not have been more tiny, but the bed was comfortable and the shower had hot water. I was surprised by the pillow; it was more of a roll that extended the width of the bed. Even in hotels where I slept in a double bed, the pillow was as wide as the bed. Despite the odd shape, the pillows were comfortable, and I had hardly any neck problems during my 20 days in Spain.

But I didn't go to Spain to stay in bed, so after a brief nap, the street noise lulled me out. I walked down the street from the Gran Via (a main street with majestic old buildings) to the Puerto del Sol, a popular plaza, and then meandered down streets too narrow for cars to drive. The shops were quaint and darling.

It was colder than I was used to, and most of the women were wearing scarves. I don't usually like things around my neck, but I found two nice scarves for 5 Euros (about $6.50), so I bought them and wore one or the other for the next two weeks. If I had brought my earmuffs and gloves, I would have worn those, too.

My first night I felt a little homesick for Latin music, but then I saw a sign for Club Cubano, and walked there about 9pm. I listened to a guy with a guitar sing Cuban songs, many of which I knew from my Buena Vista Social Club CD. I stayed long enough to have a Caipirinha, a Brazilian drink that had me drunk in 3 sips, and a dish of papas rellenos, potatoes stuffed with chilis, which were delicious.

Back in the room about 11pm, I knew I had to adjust to the local time, so I took a Tylenol PM and slept for 11 hours.

May 7
I had found a TV station with only white noise and no picture, so I had that going all night. It took the place of my white noise machine that I didn't bring.

Churros and Chocolate

I arose at noon on my first full day in Madrid. For breakfast, I went to a place in the guide books that served churros, long and narrow fried dough, with liquid chocolate. I dipped the churros in the chocolate, and drank the chocolate, too. Qué rico!

To get an overview of the city, I took Bus #27 from the Prado Museum north to Castellano, walked through open-air food stalls, then took the bus back. I went into the Prado and saw old art by Velasquez, Goya and El Greco. I am not a big fan of these religious paintings, so I was out of there in about an hour, just in time for a light rain. I walked more, went in stores, including El Cortes Ingles, the biggest Spanish department store, where prices were high. I bought 19 fans for friends back home. At an outdoor cafe, I grabbed a pencil-thin sandwich of smoked salmon, anchovy, lettuce and cream cheese, and chased it back with a caña, a small beer. I was beat after a long day of walking.

May 8

Me in the Crystal Palace

This was another walking day to see Madrid, starting with a cafe con leche and a chocolate croissant. I went to the Botanical Garden and the Parque Buen Retiro. Madrid knows how to do parks right! They are expansive, manicured and clean, and lots of people enjoy their beauty in the midst of the country's capital. I was particularly impressed with the Crystal Palace, a building made of glass.

Even though I had a 10-ride Metro pass, I preferred to walk, even in the rain, with my scarf over my hair. Finally back near the Puerto del Sol, I stopped in at a bar, La Abuela, and ordered sangria. I wanted mussels, but they were out, so the bartender/owner, Antonio, gave me a sample of boquerones, anchovies in oil and garlic. I would not ordinarily eat anchovies, but ooh, they were good! I got to talking to two guys, Fernando and Miguel. Fernando was a bookie for bullfights and other sports; Miguel was a transplanted businessman from Cadiz. We spent a few hours at the bar,drinking and eating. Miguel and I made plans to go dancing that night, and said we'd meet back at La Abuela at 9:00pm.

Miguel and me

I got lost on the way back to La Abuela - so many narrow streets! - but finally found the place. The place was crowded with people watching a soccer game on TV, so Miguel and I hung out there, eating and drinking, til 11, when we went to a dance place he knew about. It was closed - boo! - so I suggested Club Cubano. It was raining, so he bought us an umbrella for the walk. On the way, he propositioned me. I thought about it, but declined. He was handsome and had money and was only 42, but I was leaving the next morning, and I missed Indio, so I declined. He stayed at Club Cubano long enough to buy me a drink, then said he was leaving. I stayed and enjoyed the music, then left an hour later.

My First Trip to Ebais

2010-06-04T15:36:00.000-07:00

All expats living in Costa Rica have to join the Caja. That's the nation's socialized medical program. For a monthly fee, about $42 in my case, I get unlimited medical coverage.

Today is the first time I have used the Caja since I joined six weeks ago. When I arrived in Barcelona on May 18, I got a cold. It started in my throat, worked its way down for a couple of days with coughing and a sore throat, then worked its way up with sneezing and a head full of mucus. The cold mostly went away after I got situated back home in Santa Ana.

But my throat remained sore, rough and red. I had to keep clearing it of phlegm or else drown. The more I cleared my throat, the rougher it became.

So this morning I went to my local Caja office, called an Ebais. I got there at 6:30am to stand in line to get an appointment to see a doctor later in the day. There were already 22 people ahead of me, so my appointment was for 11:15.

I left, went on my morning walk, came home for breakfast and a shower, wrote some emails, then went back for my appointment. I was taken right away. First a nurse took my vital signs, using old-fashioned equipment: a pump blood pressure cuff, a scale with weight balances, and a watch to count my resting pulse. Plus I had to stand against the wall without my shoes on to get measured for height. Yes, I am still short.

Then I sat outside the doctor's office for just a few minutes. When she ushered me inside, she took a brief medical history since this was my first visit. Everything was conducted in Spanish. How do non-Spanish-speaking foreigners get through this system?! I wondered.

She looked at my throat and concluded that I needed antibiotics for my virus. No no no, I said. I do not do antibiotics anymore. I told her about the antibiotics I took in October for bronchitis that caused all kinds of yeast and UTI infections. So she backed off and wrote me two prescriptions for allergies medications.

Allergies?! I rarely am affected by allergies in this country, and when I am, it usually happens in October when it's really rainy. But then I thought about it. It was extremely dry in Spain, so much so that my skin puckered up. Then I came back to humidity and rain here in Costa Rica. Maybe my immune system was a little depressed from traveling.

I had to return to the Ebais for a third time today, at 2:30pm, to pick up my prescriptions - free of charge. So I'll try these meds and see if they help.

Getting health care here is a full-time occupation.

Susan's Birthday and Despedida

2010-04-29T09:56:00.000-07:00

There sure are a lot of tico birthdays in April and May. So many that I wasn't sure that we'd be able to celebrate Susan's early (May 6) before she left for Canada for 2-3 weeks on April 28. But our tico friends came through.

The night before she left, Susan and I were scheduled to have our (almost) weekly dinner at Chaka's, a restaurant that serves very good and cheap typical Costa Rican food. Our favorites are garlic shrimp or breaded fish with salad and rice.

So we were sitting at our regular table when in marched a bunch of tico friends singing Happy Birthday (Feliz Cumpleaños) in Spanish. She was totally surprised, and I have to admit, I was a little surprised, too.

For two weeks I had been telling our friends that I wanted to have an early birthday and going away party for Susan. Yalile, our ringleader, said there were birthday parties scheduled for every day, and she didn't know when we could fit in Susan's. Yalile herself celebrated her 45th birthday over the four days leading up to Susan's party. Her big party at a local stable, El Picadero, complete with tables with tablecloths, her brother, Alex, playing keyboard and singing, dancing, food and much merriment was a lot of fun.

So it looked like it was just going to be Susan and me at Chaka's on Tuesday night. Until I called Yalile at 4:30 to ask (again) if she wanted to join us. She said that everyone had been asking her if we were going to have the party for Susan. In the space of three hours, she called a dozen of our friends, some of the friends got gifts (or maybe they already had them), one friend bought a cake, and they piled into cars to arrive at Chaka's around 7:30.

Our group took over the place, asking to listen to ranchero music instead of the heavy bass teeny bopper music they were playing, and being our boisterous, fun-loving selves. Susan is very well thought of in this Spanish-speaking community, and her friends turned out to wish her an early 51st birthday and a safe trip to and from Canada.

Turning 60

2010-04-17T15:05:00.000-07:00

Me with birthday cake frosting on my face

How could this be happening? Turning 60 means I'm old, right? Wrong!

My 60th birthday celebrations have been the best in my life. Starting on April 8, I had dinner at my favorite restaurant in Costa Rica, Lubnan, which serves middle eastern food. Some of my Cariari friends and I got together to celebrate three April birthdays: mine, Sima's and Carolyn's. Ada and Joy celebrated with us. The food was very good and there was a belly dancer there that evening.

Carolyn, Joy, me, Sima and Ada at Lubnan's

The biggest party was held on Sunday, April 11. Susan, my Canadian friend, organized a big birthday bash at our favorite Sunday restaurant and bar, El Coco. She put up decorations and made food (with the owners' permission). There were about 35-45 of us - all ticos except for Susan and me. I felt very honored to be accepted by these wonderful friends. Hugo played music, and we danced, ate, drank and partied. What a blast!

The Birthday Queen wearing her crown

On Monday, I had lunch at Brad's Grille with Patty, Maria, Sharon, Fermina and Suzanne. This is the fourth birthday get-together that this group has celebrated.

Patty, Suzanne, Sharon, me, Fermina

April 13, my actual birthday, was spent teaching students I love. Then at night Indio and I went to Los Cebollines for dinner.

Indio and me

On Wednesday, my scrapbooking group - Lisa, Marilyn and Corinne - plus Bethea and I went back to the Cariari Country Club for a pool day birthday celebration. They gave me a huge gift basket full of gourmet foods.

Marilyn, Bethea, me, Lisa, Corinne

And finally, on Friday, my Thursday lunch group, which has been reduced to my scrapbooking group, Bethea and Pilar got together at Bethea's condo complex and enjoyed another pool day. Thank you, Pilar, for the bottle of tequila and shot glasses for my birthday!

Me, Bethea, Pilar, Lisa, Marilyn, Corinne

I am about partied out now. But my final celebration will be the 60th birthday present that I am giving myself: a 20-day to Spain. I leave May 5 and return May 20. I wanted to celebrate this milestone birthday in a spectacular way.

Semana Santa 2010

2010-04-06T14:03:00.000-07:00

Susan, Nano and me

During Semana Santa, the Holy Week leading up to Easter, ticos take off work and head to the beach. This is a good time for gringos to stay put in the Central Valley and enjoy driving around without traffic jams.

The holiest days (and thus least worked) are Thursday and Friday. On Thursday Indio (my beau of two months) and I started out at 9am for a day at the beach. I was driving and planned to take the new toll-road highway. As soon as we got on the highway in Santa Ana, the backup started. Uh oh. I got off quickly and aimed for Plan B, the old highway going through San Jose and the mountain area of San Ramon. That was also a non-starter, as we were waved off the highway at an early exit. I thought there had been an accident, but it I learned later that the road was plugged up with motorists.

Plan C came to me in a flash. We wanted to go somewhere cooler than where we were. It is summer here, and the dog days in the sun are draining. I headed southeast from the capitol, where the weather comes in from the Caribbean side and tends to be cooler.

We drove through Cartago and into Paraiso (Paradise). I knew of a beautiful, free park there, El Mirador (the view), and that's where I pulled in. We spent a lovely day under a big shade tree, picnicking and napping. There was a small group of men piloting RC (remote control) planes, which was fascinating to watch.

Friday's plan to accompany Dolores to the tattoo artist fell through as the artist realized at the last moment that it was Good Friday. His cancellation made for a relaxing catch-up day for me.

On Saturday, Susan and I headed out past Cartago and Paraiso to Orosi to visit a friend of hers, Nano. Orosi is a lovely little town in a beautiful valley. We parked the car at the bottom of a mountain, and hiked up a very steep incline for 45 minutes. I am still sore three days later. Nano is a mountain man who subsists on growing coffee beans, giving tours of a waterfall, and with the help of visitors who come from all over the world and bring him things. We brought him rice, juice, bandaids, and a few other things.

We spent several hours visiting with Nano, who is a jokester and gracious host, and three other ticos who were visiting him. Susan had brought a pasta salad and we dined well, al fresco.

On Sunday I went to a pool party. There are four of us (Corinne, Marilyn, Lisa and I) who pal around together (it's our scrapbooking group, although interest in this hobby seems to be waning), we converged at Marilyn's, along with another woman from our Thursday lunch group, and their spouses. We played in the kiddie pool and ate a delicious pasta meal that Avram (Marilyn's husband) prepared. My peppermint patty brownies were a hit, too.

The last hurrah was going to the Cariari Country Club as Corinne's guest. Lisa, Corinne and I swam in the olympic-sized pool. Well, Corinne did a lot of laps; Lisa did some, and I went up and back a couple of times then pooped out. Corinne, who is married to an east Indian, helped Lisa plan her October trip to India, while I read People magazine, smug in my already-set plans for Spain next month.

I got to spend time with a lot of my favorite people, and I also had enough down time to make me happy.

Marilyn's Birthday Pool Party

2010-03-12T11:55:00.000-08:00

Our Thursday lunch group, the Bruhos, celebrated Marilyn's birthday in her back yard. The invitation read, Come to a birthday pool party. Bring your bathing suits, towels, and pool toys.

When we got there, the pool turned out to be an oversized inflatable wading pool. Avram, Marilyn's husband, had blown it up for us. It may have been small, but it was just the right size for getting wet and playing.

It was a cool and cloudy day, so most of the dozen women didn't want to brave the water. But Lisa, Corinne, Bethea and I dove in. Well, stepped in is more like it.

Lisa led us in water aerobics - she takes a class, while I couldn't help myself with the little yellow rubber ducky that was floating in the pool. I filled it with water and got great joy out of spritzing Lisa, Corinne and Bethea.

The birthday cake was an orange cake from Robin's. Happy Birthday, Marilyn!

Bathing Beauties: Lisa, me and Corinne

Academy Awards Party

2010-03-09T04:44:00.001-08:00

It dawned on me the same time it dawned on Patty - I should have an Academy Awards party at my house!

I have been seeing a lot of movies lately. Joining me are Patty, Lisa and Corinne, and sometimes Marilyn, plus Bethea makes noises that she wants to come with us, but she hasn't made it so far. So we all had opinions about which movies and actors should win Oscars.

Most parties here are potluck, so I made chili and provided some wine and beer. Patty brought olive tapenade on bagel chips, Sharon made melted cheese on yummy bread, Barb and Rich made corn bread muffins with bacon, and Bethea brought three desserts: chocolate candy with candy cane pieces on top, banana bread and M&M brownies. We ate so much we about burst.

I handed out ballots that I had printed from the Internet, so we could keep track of which of our favorites won.

It was great fun watching the show, eating, and talking. What a surprise that The Hurt Locker beat out Avatar for best movie! We were all glad that Kathryn Bigelow won the best director award.

Patty and Sharon

Party Weekend

2010-03-09T03:58:00.000-08:00

Frank and me

Costa Rica is such a party place. Last weekend I went to two and had one of my own.

Friday night was Frank's birthday party. My friend and former student turned 45, and invited many people to his home/beauty salon to help him celebrate. For the occasion, I made peppery cheese sticks using puff pastry for the first time. They were yummy!

I spent the evening talking with a Belgian, Peter, who has lived in Marbella, Spain, for the last 25 years. He was staying at the Cariari B&B, and the owner, Laurie, who is Frank's best friend, brought him. Since I am going to Spain in May, I was very interested in learning what Peter had to say about Spain.

On the way home from the party, about 10:50pm, there was an earthquake - not a bad one, just about 4.4, but it was felt throughout the Central Valley. What I felt in my car was just a little something, like a bump. I saw a van in my rear view mirror and thought it had just barely kissed my bumper. It wasn't until the next morning when I read about the earthquake that I realized what had happened.

Then on Saturday Diane had a going away party for her Yvonne. I had met Yvonne at Diane's last party, so that was reason enough for me to go.

Someone had brought a red wig and people were taking turns posing with it on. It was the source of great amusement and laughter.

Also at the party, I saw Shell for the first time since I won our SuperBowl bet.

After Diane's party, I put on my dancing shoes for the first time since I broke my little right toe four weeks earlier and headed over to Coyunda's. It felt good to dance again, although the toe still hurt.

Jane's Baby Boy Shower

2010-03-04T15:07:00.000-08:00

Jane and Aideen

Jane is going to have her second baby - a boy! Jane is the youngest member of our Thursday lunch group, the Bruhos. We threw her a baby shower at Corinne's.

Of course, this eating group starting with mouth-watering appetizers (including one containing smoked anchovies brought in from Scotland). For lunch, we had salmon, rice with vegetables, and salad. And dessert was spectacular with Naughty Nuggets and a chocolate cake with cherries.

Lisa, me and Laura

George, what Lisa calls the soon-to-be-born baby, received many adorable presents, including clothes, booties, stuffed animals, baby books and book ends.

Karina, Jane and a stuffed animal

Then we adjourned to the living room where we played baby-related games. First we had to guess Jane's girth by cutting ribbon that would fit around her and her belly. Karina won that one. Karina won the next one too - matching celebrities to their children's names. Then we had to identify celebrities by their baby pictures, and finally we had to unscramble baby-related words. Marilyn got the most right. A big thank you to Laura for coming up with the games!

Lisa holding up a scrambled word

I Rode a Horse!

2010-02-19T20:00:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, no one had a camera to capture this fear-overcoming event, but it happened just the same. Horses are B I G creatures. I like to talk to them when I pass them in a field, but mounting them and holding on for dear life is not something I've wanted to do.

Until tonight. We were at El Picadero, a new horse place in Rio Oro, Santa Ana. Susan, Yalile, Lupe, and others plus I were sitting at the bar, tossing back a few on a Friday evening. This place has stables that board horses and a ring for riding and for breaking horses. A pretty (can a horse be called pretty?) beige horse was standing in the ring, and Lupe said she wanted to ride. The horse's name is Cariñosa, which translates into "affectionate."

The owner of the place, Santiago Montes, helped Lupe mount the horse, and off Lupe went on Cariñosa, walking around the ring. Lupe has a bit of performer in her (she was La Reina, the Queen, of Santa Ana a few years back), and waved an arm with a flourish at the crowd.

When she got off, my friends pushed me to get on. The stirrup was so high up, I needed a boost to get my foot in it, and then I could barely swing my other leg over her back. But I got on and it felt great! Scary at first, but freeing, as though I were casting aside a long-held fear.

Santiago gave me instructions for how to turn - in Spanish, of course - but it didn't click for me right away. Yet Cariñosa figured out what I wanted her to do. She is a gentle horse, probably used to neophytes like me.

We rode around the ring three times. When it was time to get off, Yalile helped to hold the horse steady, and Cariñosa stepped on Yalile's foot - oh no! I sort of slipped down the side of the horse (not the right way to do it) to dismount.

I felt so great! I plan to go back to ride again.

Riding on the high (excuse the pun), Susan and I went to Coyunda's later where karaoke was going on, and I sang a duet with Francisco (he has a great voice) in Spanish! I have only sung karaoke there once before - Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones - a duet with Jefferson that we both sort of screeched. This time I sang A Mi Manera = My Way by Frank Sinatra. Everyone applauded in support. Susan and some others looked shocked that I could actually sing. I just need to find a song that lets me sing in my mezzosoprano voice. Usually songs are too low for me.

I overcame two fears in one night. Now I want a karaoke machine with Spanish and English songs for my birthday so I can practice at home. I might want a pony, too.

Election Day

2010-02-09T11:05:00.001-08:00

The first female president of Costa Rica was elected on Sunday!

One thing that I love about elections here - this was the second that I have witnessed - is the positive, happy attitude that ticos have about electing their representatives. Sunday was a party day. Cars honking their horns with political parties' flag waving drove up and down the streets. Party was in the air, and there was no animosity between the parties or the candidates.

In fact, I watched a little of the TV debate with the top four contenders, and several times the candidates walked over to another candidate and hugged them. That would NEVER happen in the U.S. Here, it's possible to have different positions and to still treat each other with respect and love.

Alongside the election for adults Sunday was an election for the children. It was done electronically, same as for the adults, to teach the children that voting is important and easy. Some 70% of the population of Costa Rica voted on Sunday, and Laura got 46.78% of the vote. She needed to get at least 40% to avoid a runoff between the top two contenders.

La Presidenta Laura Chinchilla will take office in May and run the country for four years. Neither the president nor the members of congress are allowed to run for consecutive reelection.

SuperBowl at the Fiesta

2010-02-09T10:40:00.000-08:00

This year a small bunch of us went to the Fiesta Casino near the airport to watch the SuperBowl. The last couple of years we went to Diane's house in Cariari, but for some reason, we switched venues this year. I started going to the Fiesta a couple of years ago to watch some season football games and met a few guys who were regulars there. One of them, Christopher Howard, the #1 authority on retiring and moving to Costa Rica, said he'd reserve a big table for his and my friends for Sunday's big game.

Since my team, the New England Patriots, weren't contenders, I threw my hat in for the next best team, the New Orleans Saints. Actually, I just wanted any team other than the Indianapolis Colts to win. There's something about the Manning dynasty - one year Peyton, another year Eli, another year Peyton - that rubs me the wrong way. Plus, the Colts pair up against the Patriots during the season and are the hardest team to beat.

The Saints were the underdogs this year, well, at least that's how the betting was going until the middle of last week, when a lot of people must have plunked down a lot of money to make them the favorites. The Saints had never been to the SuperBowl before Sunday. Thus, I bet on the Saints.

It was so much fun! Diane, Sam, Carl, Carolyn and I sat together. Laurie, Allan and some others sat at a different table. Not sure why. Some of Chris's friends spilled over into the seats across from us, and we got to know them. There were big-screen TVs all over the room, and one was directly in front of me. The picture was crisp with brilliant colors. The nachos were a little cold, but the pizza was good. As was the Imperial beer.

Diane had made up a football card, and I bought two squares. Sam and I pulled numbers randomly from a deck of cards to set up the rows and columns. I won the second quarter bet, which made me $11 richer.

There was a table of three young guys near me, one wearing a Patriots shirt, so I went over to talk to him. He was tico, which surprised me, since most ticos don't know the rules of American football. He, too, was rooting for the Saints.

At halftime, we unglued a big SuperBowl balloon from the table and started tossing it around the room. What fun!

It was a very good and close game, until the fourth quarter, when the Saints pulled out way ahead. The final score was 31-17 in favor of the Saints. Yay - my team won!

To make it even better, I won this year's bet with Shell. He and I bet every year on the SuperBowl. Whichever team I don't want to win is the team that he bets on. The last two years I had to pay him. This year he finally owes me. Our bets are small, only mil colones, or about $1.75.

So all in all, a good time was had by all.

Our table

Picking numbers for the football card

Mosaic Wall at Vara Blanca

2010-02-07T12:25:00.000-08:00

On January 8, 2008, a strong earthquake struck the beautiful area in the mountains around Vara Blanca, here in Costa Rica. Many homes, schools and businesses were demolished and people were left homeless and jobless. Little by little, the area has been rebuilt, and life is setting a new normal.

The Little Theatre Group, of which I am a member, and the British Embassy rebuilt an elementary school and kindergarten. A famous artist and stage designer in our community, Deirdre (Didi) Hyde, thought it would be a great idea to add some beauty to the functional school, so she came up with the idea of a mosaic mural made of ceramic tiles saved from the area of the earthquake. The wall is right outside the school, and the children will be able to see our contribution every day.

Didi drew an idyllic design on the wall, and we volunteers got to smash different colored ceramic tiles with a hammer (what a satisfying feeling that was! Take that, you stalker!) and cement them to the wall. It is a work-in-progress and will take a while to complete, but five of us got a good start this week.

When we were done for the day, Lisa, Arnie and I stopped at a wonderful French restaurant tucked away up in Vara Blanca. The food was delicious and we shared chocolate mousse and an eclair for dessert.

Lisa and me

Arnie

Indian Cooking Class

2010-02-07T12:03:00.000-08:00

Oooh weee! Can Corinne cook!

Corinne is part of my Thursday lunch group, the Bruhos. Usually we have lunch at Robin's Kitchen in Escazu, but once in a while we branch out and do something different for lunch.

Last Thursday we went to Corinne's for lunch and instruction on making her yummy Indian food. Corinne is married to an Indian from India and has learned over the years to make great dishes.

She cooked ahead of time so that while we were eating, she demonstrated how to make the different items. Corinne brings her show on the road, too, and recently did an Indian cooking demonstration for many people.

Corinne is the friend who has a karaoke machine, so after dessert, we all took turns sounding our very worst to American songs. I never thought I would sing karaoke, but with this forgiving group, it's a lot of fun to belt out songs with gusto.

Corinne sets a beautiful table

Goodbye, Ellen

2010-02-07T11:42:00.000-08:00

It was hard to say goodbye to my good friend, Ellen. After 3.5 years in Costa Rica, she moved back to Florida where she bought a condo in Tamarac with her cousin from California. I hope she will be very happy in Florida.

Ellen and I met a few years ago. Our mutual friends, Jenny and Tony, who have since moved to Belgium, introduced us at a Halloween party that Ellen threw. Ellen lived in Cariari, two towns over from me, and introduced me to all of her Cariari friends, who have played a big part in my social life here.

She is a big football fan, and loves the Miami Dolphins. We have watched many games together, and as I write this on SuperBowl Sunday, I will miss her being with me and talking about the teams.

Ellen is a wonderful hostess and threw many parties for New Year's Eve, my birthday and other birthdays, Rosh Hashanah, Passover seder, Chanukah - any reason for a party, and Ellen got us together. She loves to talk politics and play games and dance. She is just one fun person to be around.

So there were a few going away parties for Ellen that she didn't have to plan. We hold her in such high esteem.

We all miss Ellen. Have a great life!

Scrapbooking

2010-01-13T08:06:00.000-08:00

Lisa, Corinne and Marilyn

Monday mornings a group of us get together to make memory albums. I learned this creative craft in 2000 when my close friend, Susan, from Massachusetts introduced me to Creative Memories. She was a consultant for that scrapbook product company for two years, wearing me down with her pleas to start "cropping" with her because it was so much fun. I finally succumbed, spent a small fortune on supplies, and made my first album: Friends in Warm Places. With this theme, I made a scrapbook of all the warm places Jim and I went - to Safety Harbor, Florida, to visit Jeff and his family; to DisneyWorld for a learning vacation, and many trips to our Aruban timeshare.

Susan was right - it was a lot of fun! I felt great when I finished a particularly artistic page. In addition to pictures, I added comments, stickers, and other accoutrements to make the book visually appealing and to tell stories from my life. I went on to make a heritage album of my family, a small scrapbook about my beloved cat, Schmutz, a big album about our move from Massachusetts to Florida where we built a house, and now I'm working on a two-volume (or more) album of my life.

When I moved to Costa Rica, I brought my scrapbooking supplies with me, but they sat untouched until last year when I made a 50th birthday scrapbook for Lisa. She liked the album and expressed an interest in learning to scrapbook. Corinne jumped on the bandwagon, too, so there were three of us who started to get together. I taught them what I knew, and they are adding their own style of creativity to their projects. Marilyn is a quilter, but wanted to hang out with us on scrapbooking mornings, so she makes the fourth in our core group. When she has time, Rosemary joins us.

Our time together is developing rituals. We start with a scrumptious breakfast. After an hour or so, we start working. A theme song that has developed, whether Lisa likes it or not, is Gotta Be Startin' Something. We have a lot of fun, we get work done, and we are getting to know each other better.

Margie, Corinne celebrating her birthday, Marilyn

Margaritaville Party

2010-01-12T13:13:00.000-08:00

Most of the women at the Margaritaville party
I'm in the front row, third from the left

We all dressed up in our most colorful tropical clothes and had a Jimmy Buffett Margaritaville party at Diane's. She looked adorable in her grass skirt. Patty and I went shopping at Ropa Americana (used and seconds clothing) stores in Alajuela to find her a suitable flowery blouse to wear. I wore a pair of colorful striped pants that were so old that they smelled moldy from the closet.

A few of us paired up and played a game like horseshoes, but we had to pitch heavy metal washers into holes in the ground. I got a washer into the hole = a hole in one! My team won the first game, but lost a second round.

But that was okay because Mark was in charge of mixing and pouring the margaritas, and were they yummy! The recipe called for tequila, a little triple sec, beer (yes, beer!), limonada and water. Ooh, they went down very quickly and smoothly.

We all brought something to share, and with 40-50 of us, there was a lot of food. Diane grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, but not until later. After the bocas (snacks), I was hungry, so I perused the dessert table and cut myself a piece of key lime pie. As I was eating it, a bunch of people exclaimed that I was eating dessert before the main event. Life is short, I said, so eat dessert first. So they did.

Jimmy Buffett CDs were playing in the background, but people were talking so loudly we couldn't hear the music. So there was no dancing.

But it was a Saturday night, and what's a Saturday night without dancing? So I left the party and went to Coyunda's, where the band was playing and my friends were sitting at a table with some new people from Alajuela, another city about 25 minutes away. Carlos asked me to dance, and we ended up dancing all night. He's a good dancer, and he made me look good on the dance floor. No, there's nothing brewing there between him and me - he's a heavy smoker and I have trouble breathing around smoke. But it was a fun night.

New Year's 2010

2010-01-02T14:38:00.000-08:00

The full blue moon was the backdrop for Lisa's New Year's Eve party. Her house is high up in the mountains of Escazu, with a spectacular view of the glittering lights down below in the Central Valley.

There were 60-70 people there, most of whom I knew. Lisa put out a great spread of sandwiches, salads and desserts. I brought my yummy ginger snaps and was offered a proposal of marriage if I gave him the recipe.

Just before midnight we all gathered outside on the patio. My friends who live way up there had warned me to wear a jacket, scarf, gloves and earmuffs. Yes, earmuffs in Costa Rica! So I was prepared for the cold weather.

At 12:00 we saw a spectacular display of fireworks all over the valley, and Lisa's husband, Tom, set off some, too. Fireworks are sold everywhere in Costa Rica, even though they're illegal. Hired help passed around flutes of champagne, and we all toasted the new year.

The next day there was another party. Rosemary throws a Hair of the Dog party late in the afternoon of New Year's Day, and this was the first year I was invited. In fact, I made the A list at both parties. Lisa and Rosemary are sister Brujas, the Thursday ladies lunch group that I was invited to join last February.

My friend Patty and I went to Rosemary's about 4:30pm and yakked it up with more friends. The expat network is very big in this area of Costa Rica. The spread included ribs, salads, and of course, more yummy desserts.

Once everyone had eaten, Barry, Rosemary's husband, led a Yankee Swap, or as he called it, a Chinese auction. It was great fun. I thought I was going to go home with a crystal bowl, but someone took that away from me, and I ended up with a kit for reading men's palms. That should come in hand the next time I hang out at a bar.

The party ended about 7:00, but Patty and I stayed and talked with Lisa, Rosemary, Barry, and their houseguests. We had a merry old time, talking about everything under the sun, and telling jokes. We were amazed to learn that a couple of their friends live in Lexington, Massachusetts, and went to the same Unitarian Universalist church that I went to. Finally at 11:00 we said our goodbyes and left.

May 2010 be the start of a joyous, healthy and prosperous decade for you all!

Fran and I at Lisa's party

Holiday Parties

2009-12-23T12:08:00.000-08:00

Me, eating

When I decided to stay put for Christmas this year, I wondered what the season would be like. Would I feel all alone? Would I be invited to parties? Having been sick with one thing or another for two months, I didn't feel like throwing a party of my own.

My first three Christmases living in Costa Rica, I went back to Florida and spent them with Jim. Then last year he came here. So this is my first year in five that I am spending Christmas in my home.

Well, I needn't have worried about feeling all alone. There are so many parties to go to that I have to say no sometimes, and just stay home to recuperate. I feel blessed to be included in so many festivities.

I kicked off the party season on December 11 by going to Ellen's Chanukah party. That brought back memories as we sang the blessings and lit the menorah. The next day was the PC Club party way up in the mountains of Heredia. Everyone brought delicious food (everyone always brings delicious food to every party I attend), and I led a Yankee Swap of nicely-wrapped white elephant items.

That's me leading the Yankee Swap

The day after that (it was a full weekend) was the CostaRicaLiving (Yahoo group) party in Grecia at La Galeria restaurant, followed by a chocolate fondue party at Debora Shapiro's house. I made new Grecia friends at both parties. The night after that, I was invited to dinner at Barb & Richie's house. The night after that I was happy to stay home and rest my stomach.

Then the following weekend circuit started on Friday with a potluck turkey-dinner meal with my Brujas group (aka my Thursday lunch ladies). Carol Marianne entertained us with pictures of her trip to Nepal and Bhutan, and handed out gifts to us all.

The Brujas

That night I went to Joy's party in Cariari where about 25 of us played games. Saturday I stayed home all day and night, and worked in the kitchen. I made turkey soup (I got to take home the carcass from Friday's meal), and baked cookies and banana/chocolate bread. Sunday I went to Sima's house, where we played charades and laughed til we cried. Then I went to Coco's here in Santa Ana, where I hadn't been for weeks, and watched a tope (horse parade).

Yesterday, a Tuesday, was the office party for two small companies I've done some work for the last few months, then seven of us headed over to Abi's house for her Tamalada, a party where people eat the hundreds of tamales that were made over a two- or three-day period. Abi had a DJ and a dance floor, and we danced and had a great time. Tonight I'm going to another party. Tomorrow night, Christmas Eve, I'll be at Laurie's party in Cariari, and Christmas day I'm going to yet another party. And I think that's it until the New Year's Eve party and then the Hair of the Dog party on New Year's Day.

A pot of tamales, tied up in little packages

Geez, what a life I lead here. One party after another. And, of course, every party features food, desserts and alcohol. I've gotten some great recipes, and I am becoming somewhat of a baker.

It's comforting and fun to spend time with friends, together in a foreign country where most of us don't have family here.

Aruba 2009

2009-12-14T09:56:00.000-08:00

For the last 20 years I've been visiting Aruba, give or take a year. It's a lovely vacation paradise with steady trade winds that keep temps around 82 degrees. Aruba is part of the ABC islands (Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao) that are located north of Venezuela.

When Jim and I were married, we owned two weeks of timeshare at La Cabana on Eagle Beach in Aruba. Over the years of staying there, we became friends with Tom and Peggy from Racine, Wisconsin, who owned a timeshare the same time we did. We sold our timeshare when we got divorced, but because Jim and I have remained good friends with each other and with Tom and Peggy, Tom and Peggy have invited us to vacation with them and to stay on their pullout sofabed. This was the third year (I think) since our divorce that we joined Tom and Peggy.

On Thanksgiving day, we were all supposed to fly into Miami first. Tom and Peggy's flights were delayed, and Jim and I were worried that our friends wouldn't make it on time, but they arrived at the gate, breathless, just as our Aruba-bound plane was boarding. We got into Aruba around midnight, tired from a long day of traveling, but not too tired to walk around the resort and breathe in the humid air.

As one of my Costa Rican friends said, I was going from one paradise to another. It's true. I live in the mountains of Costa Rica, almost 3000 up, where the air is relatively dry except for the rainy season. Still, it was a nice and relaxing change, having a gorgeous beach with sparkling turquoise water just steps away.

Most days we went to the beach and sat under thatched cabanas, reading, napping, going into the water, reading, napping, etc. This would be the last hurrah for my Wisconsin friends who would have to return to a cold and snowy winter.

The second day we were there, we went to one of the pools instead of the beach, the pool where we met years ago. I was seated on the side of my chaise lounge, talking to Jim on his chaise lounge about a foot away from mine, when a maid came up behind me, pushing her cart, not watching where she was going. She rammed her cart into my chaise, which jammed my right foot into Jim's chaise, breaking one of my toes. I know from past experience that there's not much to do for a broken toe. This was my 7th broken toe. It's not that I'm a klutz, I don't think. I have been known to have poor depth perception, but this broken toe was not my fault. Jim and Tom immediately got me ice, which helped keep the swelling down. The toe and foot turned a lovely shades of purple over the next few days. I found a way to walk on the foot by not putting any pressure on my toe. But today, after 2.5 weeks, the toe hurts even more. My friend and chiropractor told me to tape a small cotton ball under the break to relieve the pressure, and that is helping. Not only can't I go salsa dancing for another 3-4 weeks, I can't even wear my dancing shoes.

The highlight of every day in Aruba is always Happy Hour. This year we had a guest join us most days at 4:30. A sweet, friendly tuxedo cat came by, and all of us being cat lovers, we fed her tuna salad from the delicatessen and water. She let us pet her, and when she was ready, she sauntered off. The four of us also had fun playing Pass the Pigs and answering soul-searching questions from a conversation book that I always bring. Jim made incredibly strong rum-and-Cokes for Tom, Jim mostly drank Balashi beer, Peggy and I favored vodka - hers mostly with tonic, and mine mostly with bloody mary mix and a Claussen dill pickle. Yummy! And of course snacks!

Going out to dinner each night was sort of unnecessary because we filled up with snacks at Happy Hour, but we didn't want to miss out on some great meals. Our favorite restaurant this trip was Passions, next door at the Amsterdam Manor. The food and service (that's our waitress Diana in the picture above) were so good, I wrote a glowing review on TripAdvisor. My favorite meal was roast lamb, but the grouper, snapper and steaks were also delicious. Bingo was also a serious contender for best restaurant.

The ten days came to a quick end. We all flew back to Miami, then went our separate ways.

2 BR Condo for Rent - RENTED!

2009-09-27T11:57:00.000-07:00

View from my balcony

Live in luxury for a pittance! My tenant of two years moved out and I need to find a new one. Here's the description:

Modern 6th floor condo with 2 BR, 2 bath, TV room, living/dining room, kitchen, laundry room, balcony, 3 ceiling fans, 2 parking spaces. Pretty view of Alajuela mountains and Volcan Poas. Big swimming pools, BBQ area, tennis, 24/7 security. Located in Concasa Condominiums in San Rafael de Alajuela, only 15 minutes to Forum, 20 minutes to the airport, 4 kms from Panasonic in Belen (next to Santa Ana). There will soon be an entrance here to San Jose-Caldera autopista (only a half-hour drive to the beach). Only $495/month, unfurnished. Call me at 2282-5557 or email retire2cr@yahoo.com.

The locks have been changed, some work has been done, and the place will be painted soon.

I bought this condo during preconstruction, two years ago. It's a lovely place to live, but I like where I am in Santa Ana, which is why I want to find a tenant to live there. If you know of anyone...

Wonton Day

2009-09-15T15:48:00.000-07:00

I am blessed to be good friends with two Susans, one in Massachusetts and one here in Costa Rica. Both are very good cooks. Which is a good thing, because I never really learned to cook, but I sure do like to eat.

My local friend Susan, a dietician in her former Canadian life, who lives here in Santa Ana and works on my street, has been wanting to go to Super Sony, the oriental food store in San Jose. Last week we planned our menu so we'd know which ingredients to buy. We were going to make wontons for Susan's favorite wonton soup, plus fried wontons, and spring rolls, fresh and fried, which are my favorites from Vietnamese cuisine.

This past Sunday was Wonton Day. I picked Susan up around 1:00pm. We stopped at PriceSmart, the big box store to stock up on food and stuff, before we headed into the city. On Sundays I can park on the street right in front of the little supermarket instead of parking in the paid lot a block away.

We took our time going up and down the aisles. There was food there I had never seen before and didn't know what to do with. Susan knew just what we needed to get, and an hour later we left. We had to stop at a regular supermarket to pick up ground chicken and fresh bean sprouts, and while we were there, we realized we hadn't eaten lunch, so we got some good junk food to tide us over - cookies, chips, all good stuff.

About 4pm we got back to my place and dug in. I had no idea what to do, so I was Susan's eager assistant. She had me chop vegetables for the spring rolls, while she did, um, I don't know what she did. I was busy putting on music, pouring us drinks, and blowing a whistle into the phone when Jose called.

He called four times and I decided I had had it. I called the police and they came within five minutes. I showed them the restraining order and the phone log I've been keeping, and begged them to make him stop calling me. I played the saved messages so they could hear how he was harassing me. But they said they couldn't do anything about his phone calls. If he got within 500 meters, about 1/3 mile, of me, I could call the police and they would pick him up. So the police left, and Susan and I got back to work in the kitchen. She has been very supportive of me during this difficult period. Jose has been bothering her, too. We both just wish he would go away.

Next up was making wontons. We laid out the wrappers and put a little of the chicken mixture in them, then rolled them halfway, turned them around and brought their little arms together.

Then we fried them.

Then we ate them, but there's no picture of that. The next day Susan came over for lunch and we made wonton soup and ate more fried wontons and spring rolls and more fresh spring rolls. Mmm mmm good!

Volcan Arenal

2009-09-09T12:05:00.000-07:00

Soobs and the Dancing Queen

My friends have been coming to my rescue as the stalking experience continues. Fred and George offered me their guest room in Puriscal, about 45 minutes from where I live. Patricia and Gloria did, closer by, did too. Hugo,Laurie, Kim and Susan in MA offered sympathetic ears. Laura made suggestions about how to avoid Jose. Lisa gave me her whistle in case I have to call for help. And my Canadian friend, Susan, got us a free room for two and some free tours in the resort area of Volcan Arenal.

So off we went Saturday morning, Soobs (Susan) and me (the Dancing Queen), leaving Santa Ana and Jose behind. We packed up my car, and I am happy to say that it was a fun and uneventful road trip. I think the town of La Fortuna, where the volcano is located, is supposed to be about a 3.5-hour drive, but we took our time, stopped along the way, and enjoyed the scenery. This was my first trip to Arenal.

I highly recommend the San Bosco Hotel for staying in town, as opposed to staying closer to the volcano. It's a clean, comfortable hotel with a delicious breakfast included, and a lovely pool. Shops and restaurants were just a block or two away, yet our place was very quiet.

Saturday afternoon we got picked up by Desafio Tours for a nature hike. We saw and heard howler monkeys and birds. My calves felt a little strained from walking up and down the hills. As the sun started to set and clouds and rain settled in, we stopped at a clearing where we could look up toward the volcano and see fiery red/orange lava. The entire volcano was socked in with clouds, but that lava stuck out. Our gracious tour host provided us with a timely cocktail: fruit juice and guaro. Guaro is like a legal moonshine here in Costa Rica. It's made from sugar cane and creates a wicked hangover when a lot is consumed. We didn't imbibe that much, just enough to feel happy.

Our next stop was Baldi Hot Springs, a popular tourist place with many pools fed by thermal springs. Ooh, did it feel great soaking in those hot spring pools. It didn't matter that it was raining. We were comfy and already wet. We had a $9 buffet dinner before going back to our hotel.

At 7:30 the next morning, Lavamar, another tour company, picked us up and took us to the Hanging Bridges. It was another nature walk, but we had to cross 15 narrow bridges that were suspended in the rainforest over chasms of up to 250 feet. Susan wore a poncho, but I thought my rainjacket with a hood would keep the rain from soaking through me. I was wrong, wrong, wrong. After the first half hour of misery, I accepted the fact that I was just going to be drenched through and through, and I started to enjoy being outdoors. This really is a beautiful country, with vast amounts of primary forest, wildlife and flowers.

Our next tour was a hike down to the bottom of the Arenal waterfall. If it hadn't been pouring rain and so chilly, we would have gone swimming in the pool that the waterfall makes. So we just walked down the well-paved steps to the bottom. OMG - there were hundreds of steps, and with each one, my already-aching calves screamed in agony. As we walked down, we saw sorry souls walking up. They looked hangdog, and I kept wanting to turn around and beat feet it to the top before seeing the waterfall up close. But I felt obligated to complete the (free) tour, and I kept at it. Sure enough, going up was excruciating. Not only did my calves burn, but my lungs did too. Finally we reached the top and we piled into the van, thanking our lucky stars that we didn't have to ride away on horseback like the other tourists who made it out before us. The last stop was at a restaurant where I had a pretty good steak.

Back at the hotel, Susan and vegged. I read by the pool and stretched my calves in the water. I got three little stings by a red ant. And then I took a 2.5-hour nap. Ooh, did that feel good.

We walked around town, or rather I hobbled and Susan walked, and we bought some earrings at a little store. Susan bought earrings to match her hair, which seemed funny at the time, and another pair to match a bracelet. I bought a black and silver pair for myself and a pair of witches on broomsticks as a gift. Then we went to Don Rufino's for dinner. Mm mm mm, what good food! Susan had a delicious rib eye steak and I had a tropical chicken dish with cashews. My calves were so painful that I couldn't go to the dance place that was only around the corner from our hotel. I hadn't realized that salsa dancing uses calf muscles, but it does, and I didn't have any in working condition.

Monday morning we lazed around the pool, then headed out. We stopped before San Ramon to buy queso palmito, a round ball of cheese that peels like spaghetti. I bought an extra one for my landlords, and Susan bought some for her coworkers. We laughed a lot on the way home, as she felt compelled to read road signs aloud, which is one of the things that drove me crazy about a guy who visited me 2.5 years ago. He had to read every sign out loud.

We stopped at AutoMercado to do a little food shopping before having a Welcome Home drink at Coyunda's. At least for three days I was able to feel safe from the ongoing haunting by Jose.

The Object of His Obsession

2009-09-03T11:07:00.001-07:00

I would like to say that Jose is history, but he is still part of my daily life. And not in a good way.

After four weeks of "having a boyfriend", which was a new and happy occurrence for me in Costa Rica, I broke up with Jose. I realized that he is an alcoholic who cannot control his drinking, and he is not a pleasant drunk. I learned too late that he has an obsessive personality. I became the object of his obsession, and now I cannot extricate myself from him.

As of today, September 3, it has been 12 days since I told him "no more." Every day since then, he has called me from 5-20 times a day, usually starting around 6:00am, and ending sometimes as late as 2:00am. I do not answer the phone when he calls unless he calls from a number I don't recognize, and then I hang up as soon as I recognize his voice. Sometimes he calls and hangs up; sometimes he leaves a message. When he is drunk, he leaves a loud, angry message that is undecipherable.

One Friday he was waiting for me after my exercise class. I had walked away from the building with a friend and we parted at the end of the street. At the next corner, Jose stepped out from behind a wall and scared the shit out of me. We talked for 10 minutes. He kept saying, I love you, why did you break up with me? After telling him why again and repeating myself many times, I just walked away from him, uphill toward my street. He must have taken a taxi to get ahead of me, because as I approached my street, he popped out again from behind another wall. This really freaked me out. I just kept walking, ignoring him.

Two days later on a Sunday morning as I was driving back home from the feria, I saw him walking away from my street, and he saw me. He would have had no reason to be in that neighborhood other than to look for me. When I got home, I put the letter to him that I had written the day before into an envelope and waited for him to come to my gate. Sure enough, he arrived, and I handed him the letter through the wrought iron gate. He read it. In the letter I told him again why I broke up with him, I asked him to stop calling me and to stop looking for me, and that if he continued, I would get a restraining order against him. I asked if he understood the letter, and he said yes. Then he said, I love you, why did you break up with me? I walked back to my apartment.

His calls have continued. During one particularly nasty call, he said "Voy a matarla" or "Voy a matarlo" meaning I am going to kill you or I am going to kill him. I wasn't sure which it was. He seems to think I broke up with him not because of his drinking, which he cannot take responsibility for, but because there is another man. There is no other man.

A friend of mine from my dance and exercises classes offered to be my witness to get a restraining order, so Wednesday morning Olga and I went down to the mayor's office and filed a formal complaint against Jose. I like to believe that people are basically good, that we all want the same things - to be loved, to have our basic needs met, to be happy - but I realized I have been naive about Jose. Still, I didn't want to file a legal complaint against him, but I did. And I was glad I did. The clerk waiting on me said that Jose had been in the day before asking if I had filed a complaint against him. So he apparently took my threat in the letter seriously; I was just delayed by a day.

I received a Protective Order and was told that if Jose comes near me again to call the police. Jose would be arrested and put in jail for three months. Olga found out that Jose had already violated a Protective Order filed by another woman a while back and had spent three months in jail for that offense. Geez, I wish I had known that when I met him!

Sometime during Wednesday afternoon the police delivered a copy of the formal complaint to Jose. Sometime after that he got riproaring drunk and found a friend who could write a little English. About 5:30pm, Jose pulled up in a taxi to the front gate where I live, handed my landlady, Ana, an envelope with his copy of the complaint in it, and took off. Ana delivered it to me and said Jose was drunk. On the back of the complaint was some scribbled handwriting with seven lines. One said that I was a bitch. Another said I was a lesbian. Another said he didn't like my body. And I couldn't decipher the other four lines. He signed his name to it.

Then the phone calls started up again. The first was angry and unintelligible. The next ones were more conciliatory as he worked off his drunkenness. In all, there were five messages yesterday after he received the notice, and so far today there have been eight messages. It doesn't seem to matter to him that I don't pick up the phone.

At lunch today, a friend gave me her shiny metal whistle on a rope. It has become my new necklace that I will wear everywhere. I also have to carry my cell phone and the order with me everywhere I go, even when I just walk in the morning, so I can be prepared and call the police if Jose shows up.

Meanwhile, something happened on our property and my landlords and I are not sure if Jose is to blame or not. Sometime between Tuesday at 5:30pm and Wednesday at 5:30pm, someone came onto our private property, opened a cement box where the electrical and telephone cables connect to the apartment next door to mine (those folks are away), and cut the cables. The cut had to have been made by someone who knew what he was doing. Jose has worked in construction and knows the trades. He or he and a friend could have done this, but there is no proof. Maybe he thought the cables went to my apartment (they didn't) and he wanted to get back at me for filing the complaint. Maybe he did it so I would call him for help (no way in hell). Whoever did it and for whatever reason, my landlords are not happy, and I am afraid they will ask me to move out if this harassment continues. I love where I live and don't want to leave, but if I move out of Santa Ana, I am pretty sure Jose will not follow me. He doesn't drive and doesn't have a license, so his stalking activities would be put to a greater test.

At this point, I hope he does show up so I can call the police and they can drag him away to jail for three months. I would like some peace of mind.

Before this happened, I would read about stalkers, but I never understood close-up what the victims were going through. Now I do. I am jumpy, I always look around me, I am afraid to leave my apartment, I am afraid for my students who come here. Even after this stalking stops some day, will I be able to trust anybody again? Will I feel safe going out? And yet a part of me feels strong, almost invincible, thinking that I am not going to let him get me down. HE is the crazy person. I am the sane person. He wants what I have (sanity), but he doesn't know how to get it. I am sooooo sorry I ever fell for him.

Watching Mud Races

2009-08-21T14:47:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday Jose and I went to watch the races. I am not really into racing, but Jose likes all kinds of sports, and since there was nothing else to do, we went.

Jose is the man in my life, my novio, my boyfriend. He found me after a Saturday night of dancing, when Susan and I made our pilgrimage to El Coco at midnight for a last drink and ceviche. Jose positioned himself next to my chair, and asked me to dance. The dance floor at El Coco is tiny and the speakers are huge, so I am always hesitant to dance there, but here was a new, good-looking guy asking me to dance, so I said yes. That was almost four weeks ago, and we've been enjoying each other's company since then.

So last Sunday we headed out to Ciudad Colon to watch the races. There were hundreds of people there, mostly young guys and Red Cross workers, all watching the muddy racetrack. The first race was motocross - dirt bike racing over a dirt track and mud puddles. It wasn't too bad. I got into the swing of things. The sun was beating down and it was a nice day to be outside. The next race was for stock cars. Jose's cousin Ivan was racing #38, so that's who we rooted for. We walked around the track to get a better view, and ran into one of Jose's siblings (he has seven), Marielos and her husband Juan Carlos, who is a lawyer, and their kids. We stood with them while we cheered on Ivan.

Earlier that morning at the feria, Jose had bought a bag of mamon chinos, a small, red prickly nugget that you open to eat the lychee-nut-like fruit inside. They get to be sticky and messy. We brought the mamon chinos to the races, but after eating all we could eat, Jose wanted to get rid of them. There were still a lot left, so I went around to all the Red Cross workers and offered them mamon chinos until the fruit was all gone.

Then it started to drizzle, and Jose's family and we huddled together. When the heavens let loose, we ran for the exit and agreed to meet at Pizza Hut. This was the first time I had set foot in a Pizza Hut in Costa Rica. They are all over the place, but my favorite pizza is made in a little hole in the wall in Cariari.

At Pizza Hut I got to know Marielos and her husband, who offered to help me with my residency problem (too long and stressful to go into here). They are very nice people, and Marielos said I would see her again Tuesday night at Latin dance class.

Because we left the racetrack early, we never did see the second stock car race or the final highlight: the destruction of the race cars, which was just fine with me.

Jose and me

Gentlemen, Start Your Engines

Tope, or Any Excuse to Party

2009-07-20T11:03:00.000-07:00

Pizarro, on his horse, and me

Ticos love to party. Any reason will do. For example, this Wednesday night is a party to commemorate the third anniversary since my friend Lupe was crowned La Reina (Queen) of Santa Ana. Mind you, every year a new queen is crowned, which is in itself cause for celebration, but Lupe is such a wonderful, friendly, generous, outgoing person, that her past coronation is celebrated every year. Unfortunately, I have other plans for Wednesday night (a formal party at a financial institution) and can't attend Lupe's party.

The cause for celebration this past Sunday was a tope, or horse parade. The streets were roped off at 8:00 that morning, so unless you knew the back roads, you had to walk. Hundreds of men (and some women) spiff up their horses, or rent horses, and parade downtown with beer can in hand, to the applause of the onlookers. I don't quite understand the thrill of a tope - for the riders, for the onlookers, or especially for the horses who foam and sweat and have to walk slowly and stop on pavement - but it is party time nevertheless, with lots of booze.

People lined the streets in the morning, jockeying for good viewing spots. This not being my first tope (pronounced toe-pay), I didn't arrive until 2:00pm, which was when the officials began parading past the viewing site where my friends were set up.

There is a vivero, or plant nursery, on the main street where I have bought vegetable plants. It is owned by Carolina's family. Carolina and Hildreth show up at the same parties I do, and they were at the tope. In fact, Carolina's family had prepared food for sale inside the vivero, but I ate before I left the house. Susan, Yalile, some other acquaintances and I stood in front of the vivero, watching the parade of horses and riders.

What was different for me about this tope was that I knew about 12-15 of the riders. Thanks to Susan, and her friend (and now mine) Yalile, I have met many ticos in this city. I tried to take pictures of everyone I knew, but the horses didn't always cooperate.

After two and a half hours of standing and watching the horses and admiring the hot-looking guys, Susan and I walked down to one of our favorite haunts, El Coco, for a little refreshment. Then we drove up to Dos Oy, a big stable where the Cruz Roja (Red Cross) hosted a big party with food and music.

Oscar on his horse

Boys on Horseback

Susan, me, Yalile and Victor

Frank on his horse

Lisa's 50th Birthday Bash

2009-07-16T09:21:00.001-07:00

Lisa, surprised at finding her friend Barbara from New York at her party

Lisa Defuso is one of the most beloved people I know in Costa Rica. Her personality is big, loving, friendly, compassionate, tell-it-like-it-is. An onstage and offstage talent, she's the current president of the Little Theatre Group. She knows how to throw great parties, and for her 50th birthday, her friends returned the favor.

I've known Lisa for a few years, but have been getting to know her better since February when I joined the Thursday Ladies Lunch group that Lisa started years ago. Most Thursdays we have lunch at Robin's Kitchen, but occasionally we dine at other restaurants or at each other's homes for special occasions.

This special occasion was coordinated by her close friend, Rosemary Rein. The party had a Moroccan theme, Lisa's Harem. We were all supposed to show up with veils and belly dancing clothes, and bring Moroccan food to share. I volunteered to make a special birthday scrapbook for Lisa, with pictures, stories and birthday wishes from her friends. And there was a very special surprise - actually three big surprises.

When we arrived, we were ushered into the rancho (covered patio) in the back yard, where we feasted on wine and delicious Moroccan hors d'oeuvres while waiting for the guest of honor. A friend of Lisa's, Sheila Robinson, had constructed and decorated three refrigerator-sized boxes to hide three very big surprises. Rosemary had flown in Lisa's mother, Rosalie, sister Lori, and good friend Barbara from New York for the party, and they were inside the boxes, waiting to be discovered by Lisa. When Lisa finally arrived, decked out in a beautiful blue belly dancing outfit, we all cheered. We had all been keeping the secret of her family's visit for a few weeks, and we could hardly wait for Lisa to open the boxes. When she did, it was a very moving experience for all of us.

Lisa's belly dancing instructor performed and led those who were willing through a belly dance. Then we went into the house to taste the delicious Moroccan fare. Rosemary's house has many rooms and patio spaces, and it was fun moving around and visiting with friends in different nooks and crannies. We even had a fortune teller give free tarot readings.

The spotlight then fell on Lisa as she opened her birthday presents. Some were silly, some were beautiful, all were meaningful. The last gift was the scrapbook that I had made, which expressed the love that so many of her friends have for her.

We adjourned to the dining room for desserts and birthday cake, and sang Happy Birthday to our very special friend.

I took many pictures. Click here to see them all.

More Beep Beep

2009-07-13T16:32:00.000-07:00

On June 30 I posted a blog entry about my beeping horn. It would beeeeeeep, unprovoked, without my even being in the car, for five minutes, then beep itself to death. I had to buy a new horn and a new fuse, and then the cycle would start all over again. Four different mechanics could not fix the problem and I was told to go to the Nissan dealer, where I would be charged an arm and a leg and be without a car for two days.

So last week I drove to the Nissan dealer in San Jose, followed by my wonderful student, Santiago, who volunteered to drive me home from there (and drive me back the following day to pick up my car). The head of service gave me terrible news: they did not have the special tool required to open the steering column because the tooling changed in 2001, and I had a 1997 model. Plus, Nissan was not allowed to open the steering column because I had an airbag, and they couldn't tamper with an airbag. And even if they could fix my car, it would cost $2000.

I pleaded with the guy. I told him I didn't want an airbag anyway. I told him about the report that came out several years ago about short people being injured more by airbags than by collisions. He wouldn't budge. I felt like I was living in the Twilight Zone. I had a car without a horn, that needed to have a horn in order to pass the annual inspection, but the horn could not be fixed. I had a dead car. I could not sell the car because no one would want to buy it. He suggested that I find a mechanic who could rewire the horn to put a push button on the dashboard. It would be a functional horn that would pass inspection but that would look ridiculous and be awkward to use. Another suggestion was to find a used steering wheel without an airbag and have a mechanic switch out mine with the airbag for one without. That could work, but then the red light on the dashboard that says "Airbag" would always be lit.

So I went home and put on my thinking cap. The next day I again called the mechanic who specializes in electrical systems and told him what Nissan had told me. I must have sounded pathetic, because he took pity on me and said he would help me.

Two days later I brought my car to Mario Alfaro. Actually, I brought my car to a garage in Escazu, and Mario met me there. He is a visiting mechanic, like a surgeon with operating rights in different hospitals. He gets called in to work on the hard cases. As he was examining my car, I asked him how he learned to speak such good English. He said he taught himself. He also taught himself about electrical and electronic systems. Mario is a humble guy who is very smart and talented.

In less than one hour, Mario analyzed the faulty wiring, found the source of the problem (a short on the steering column caused by the cruise control system), located the elusive tool to open the steering column, and fixed the problem. He charged me only $26, and that included a new horn.

I am a happy driver once again, with a horn that works.
Beep beep

Gringo Bingo in Grecia

2009-07-13T15:26:00.000-07:00

Chalk up another first for me. I played Bingo on Sunday, for money. Patty asked if I wanted to join her, Fermina, and a new friend who is moving to Costa Rica from Scotland, Annie, to play Gringo Bingo in Grecia. I don't remember ever paying to play Bingo before, and I wondered how I would be able to pay attention to several cards at once, but the event was a fundraiser for the innovative English Conversation Hour begun by my friend, Lair Davis, over in Grecia, so I said sure. The program provides an hour of English conversation each week for folks who are learning English.

Grecia (means Greece) is a lovely town northwest of and a little cooler than Santa Ana. Fermina drove and it took about an hour to get there, without much traffic to speak of.

About 65 of us plunked down $9 each to sit in a somewhat smoky room (ack) and wait expectantly for our numbers to be called. For each game, we had to match the called numbers to a different pattern on our Bingo cards. There were 11 games total, and each game came with a sizable prize, mostly donated by area businesses.

Our party of four sat at table with four other people. Of the 11 prizes, our table won six. Robert Lee, the guy sitting across from me, won three times and finally stopped playing for earnest because he would have been lynched if he had won again. Fermina won twice, including the final prize which was about $51, more than enough to pay for gas for the trip. And I won a dinner for two at La Galeria, an upscale steakhouse in Grecia that the locals were oohing and ahhing over, saying it was the best prize to win, and the fresh tuna was to die for. Patty told me to ask if it came with a date.

So at some point I will find someone to make the trek back to Grecia with me to dine at La Galeria. Driving there at night will take about an hour and a half each way, so I'm not as thrilled about winning the prize as a Grecian would have been. But any night that I don't have to cook means a good meal for me, so count me in.

From Grecia we drove further north to Sarchí, a town known for making furniture. Our quest was to find Annie's property that she had just purchased. From Sarchí, we took a road that brought us 4000 feet above sea level. The air became cooler and fresher as we drove up the mountain. Finally we came to two small A-frame houses and an acre of green land that extended steeply down the back toward a stream. This was going to be Annie's home when she made the move from Scotland, either later this year or sometime in 2010.

We celebrated the occasion with champagne, and I felt that I was making a new friend, although one I wouldn't see too often because of the distance (close to two hours from Santa Ana in normal traffic).

Fermina, Annie and Patty playing Bingo

My Bingo card

Annie and her new home

Toasting Annie's new venture

Diane's Potluck and Natasha's 15th

2009-07-07T14:58:00.000-07:00

Saturday night I got all gussied up in a new dress that I bought in Massachusetts to go to two parties. It may sound as though I go to a lot of parties, and I do go to more than I ever did while living in the US, but some weekends I stay home and don't do much. Really.

The first party was a potluck at Diane's. She and her friend Goose made barbecue ribs and chicken for the Fourth of July. I brought peppermint brownies made from scratch, which I didn't even eat because I was overdosing on Irene's delicious cherry cheesecake and someone else's cherry crumble. The ribs were so good that I didn't even get to taste the chicken. I got to see my Cariari friends, and that was a good thing.

Party number two was a major event. Yalile and Toro's daughter, Natasha, celebrated her 15th birthday with about 200 guests at Zamora Estate, the place in Santa Ana where I had the PC Club party a few weeks ago. I introduced Yalile to the folks who own Zamora Estate, and she and Natasha liked it enough to book their big party there.

A DJ played mostly techno pop with a heavy bass, but he squeezed in a little salsa for us older folks. Waiters roamed with trays of hors d'oeuvres, and there was an open bar. People wandered inside and out, sitting down by the pool where there were twinkly lights. Ana Brenes, a chef, cooking instructor and wife of the owner, was busy in the kitchen making delicious food for us. Roman Zamora, her husband, circulated to keep an eye on everything. He felt a little nervous about 85 of Natasha's schoolmates running around his property.

There were two spectacular events that happened later in the night. Hanging from from two limbs of a tall tree just off the porch were long, streaming ribbons. Spotlights lit up the ribbons to show us two acrobats, like from Cirque du Soleil, twisting and dancing their way up and down the ribbons. It was fascinating to watch close up. Then close to midnight, a comparsa group came in. About 15 members of this percussion group were dressed up in Carneval costumes and shaking their booty. It's not possible to stand still while a comparsa is playing. You have to shake and shimmy and move to the rhythm. It was noisy, but great fun. I helped hand out beads (think Mardi Gras in New Orleans), hats and noisemakers, and light sticks that glowed in the dark.

The birthday cake was adorable, and it was surrounded by dozens of wrapped gifts, but with all the music, dancing, and special effects, we forgot to light the candles and sing Happy Birthday to Natasha! Yalile yelled at Susan and me the next day, Why didn't you remember to sing Happy Birthday? As though it was our responsibility. Of course, she said it with love.

Margie, Patty and Ada at Diane's party

Natasha and Me

The birthday cake and presents

Front: Me, Carolina, Susan
Back: Someone hugging me, Hilberth

Comparsa

Goodbye to Alejandro and Valeria (sniff sniff)

2009-06-30T13:18:00.000-07:00

Alejandro was my English student for 2.5 years, and his wife, Valeria, for 2 years. And now they're leaving Costa Rica. I am sad to see them go, and fearful about their setting up a new life in Guatemala.

After a year of traipsing into San Jose at 6am and again at 6pm to teach English at language schools in San Jose, I decided to teach in my home. My first student was Alejandro Martinez, a tall, handsome, smart, funny, guy from Argentina, with a winning personality. Alejandro had been studying English for many years, but there was still room for improvement. Alejandro came to class twice a week at 7:30 in the morning with his friend, Andrés Serpa, who was also from Argentina. They were at about the same level of learning, so it made sense for them to study together and to reinforce each other's learning.

There was something magical about the three of us working together, even though they were in their mid-30s and I was, well, old enough to be their mother. We had so much fun together that it was almost sinful to take their money. For my other students, I provided only a glass of water. But for A&A, I made coffee, and made sure I had Splenda for Alejandro's coffee and honey and Lipton tea bags for Andrés. I also kept their favorite butter cookies on hand, although sometimes Andrés brought us croissants or other breakfast goodies.

We started with an intermediate level book, but we diverged from the book so often that after a year and a half we were still only halfway through the book. We joked that in ten years we would still be working with the same book. We talked about everything in English - cultural differences, travel, investments, life purpose, sex. I taught them swear words, and they returned the favor in Spanish.

Alejandro knows a lot of people because of his work as executive director of the Aden Business School. He was responsible for my entire student load for quite a while, sending me Argentinian friends and even his dentist, Tatiana Arias, who also became my dentist.

Ale's wife, Valeria, became my student, too. She is beautiful, smart and insightful. My students and I talked about much more than English and work issues. We became friends and confided in each other. In all that time of meeting with both Ale and Vale, I always kept their individual confidences. When I look at the two of them together, I think how perfectly suited for each other they are.

Valeria has not been happy living in Costa Rica, and Alejandro has gotten the most from his job at Aden. So they have been looking for a change. That change came in the form of a job offer for Alejandro to manage a cancer radiation clinic in Guatemala City, Guatemala. Last week they came over to tell me the news. He gave his notice and will start his new job July 15. They will make the move to Guatemala by October 1.

As I tearfully write this, I think of all the fun and serious talks we have had, and the barbecues they invited me to at their place. I went to their house this past Sunday, to enjoy probably their last grilled meat and wine party. I saw friends there, Olga and her mother Ana from Venezuela, whom I met through Ale and Vale, and now we'll have to get together on our own.

Guatemala is an unsafe Central American country with considerable poverty. The only relatively safe areas with extra security are in Guatemala City, Antigua City and Tikal, where tourists go. Alejandro and Valeria will be living in the Pink Zone of Guatemala City, which is supposed to have even more security. I hope they will be happy there. I hope they will be safe there.

Ana, Olga, Me, Alejandro, Valeria

More Karaoke, or Too Much of a Bad Thing

2009-06-30T10:58:00.000-07:00

Friday nights I usually stay in and rest up for a late night Saturday at Coyunda's where they have a live band for dancing. That means I miss karaoke at Coyunda's, which is held Friday nights. I've always been fine with missing karaoke, which I've never been fond of. But since last Thursday when my ladies lunch group sang karaoke at Corinne's, and I sang into a mike for the first time among my friends who were kind and applauded despite my going off key and missing some of the words, my appetite for making a fool of myself in front of other people has been whetted.

So Friday night I went to Coyunda's with Susan. Several of our friends were there, including my old appliance buddy, Hugo, who has a very nice voice. He sang and a bunch of friends sang. The more people drank, the more they sang. All in Spanish, of course.

After a vodka and tonic or two, I went over to the control board and asked if there were any songs in English. There were, and I picked one. But then I got nervous, and asked around for anyone who would sing with me. Jefferson, who is gorgeous, early 30s, and a fantastic dancer, agreed.

So when I Can't Get No Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones came on, he and I started singing into the mike. Well, that song an international hit, and everyone in the room knew it. Everyone sang with us and we were all rockin' and smokin'! For the refrain (I can't get no satisfaction), I put the mike in front of different people and they belted out the words, too. It was a blast! And no one really noticed that I was off key.

Sundays I usually stay home, too, getting a late start, going to the feria, and mostly vegging/napping in the afternoon. But this past Sunday, after spending the afternoon at my friends' house, I joined a birthday party already in progress for Gerardo at Coyunda's. I selected some rock n roll songs, and a bunch of us got up and danced. Feeling very comfortable at Coyunda's, which is becoming my second home, I sang the words at the top of my lungs.

About 8pm, we moved the party to El Coco, where there was alternating one hour DJ music, and one hour karaoke. Still bitten by the karaoke bug, I picked a song, I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor, and Yalile and I sang it together. Then she sang a romantic Spanish ballad by herself.

Then we started dancing. OMG - we were like whirling dervishes! The DJ played rock n roll songs and I could not sit still. A bunch of us got up and started dancing, partners not needed. I must have lost a couple of pounds that night just from dancing.

Gerardo's Birthday Party at Coyunda's

Yalile and Me Singing

Yalile, Mayito and Me Dancing at El Coco

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep

2009-06-30T10:32:00.000-07:00

My horn goes off whenever it feels like it, and won't stop until it tires itself out after about five minutes. This has been going on now for about three weeks, since I had some air conditioning work done on the car.

The horn starts all by itself, whether I'm driving the car or the car is parked. The first time it happened, I was driving around Santa Ana. Everyone looked at me as I made my way to Chichi, my newest mechanic. Once there, Chichi took out the fuse to make the beeping stop. He looked at the wires and couldn't find anything out of place. He told me to bring the car back the next day, and he would give it to his cousin who does electrical work.

The next morning, I brought the car to Chichi's and walked home. The following day I picked up the car and paid about $15 for a new horn and a new fuse. I thought the problem was solved. That afternoon, while the car was parked in my garage, the horn started in again. Inside the confines of the garage, that horn just about burst my eardrums. I opened the hood, opened the fuse box, and yanked out the fuse the way I had seen Chichi do it. My body continued to vibrate after the beeping stopped.

Then I called my friend, Moe, a Canadian mechanic two towns over in Cariari. I made an appointment to bring him my car. He tried to open up the steering wheel, but he didn't have the special six-sided wrench with a pinhole in the middle. Meanwhile, I'm riding around in a time bomb, never knowing when the horn is going to go off again.

The car went over a week without beeping. I didn't know if it was done tooting at will or if it would happen some night at 3am, or toot when it was parked somewhere and I didn't hear it and it wore down my battery.

I found out last Sunday at the feria. I parked my car downtown, took my daily walk up and down the hilly streets, shopped at the farmers' market, and returned to my car. The watchee man (guard) who knows me said that my horn was honking for about five minutes then stopped. Arrgh. I got in the car and honked the horn, but it wouldn't honk. Now that was just plain mean. It had beeped itself out.

There's an expat resource I turn to when I need a question answered. It's Costa Rica Living, a Yahoo group. So I posted a query, looking for a car electrical mechanic. I got a response and called the guy on Sunday. He understood and problems and was willing to come to my house the next day. But that Monday morning when I called to confirm, he said he didn't have the tools necessary to work on my car. He recommended that I take it to the Nissan (expensive) dealer in San Jose.

Desperate at this point, I called the Nissan dealership and made an appointment for a week later. They said they would need my car two days, which is probably not true, but I will have to leave it there and take the bus home in the rain, and bus back the next day to pick it up.

In the meantime, I am driving around without a horn in a very horn-friendly city.

Beep beep

Indian Food and Karaoke

2009-06-26T11:00:00.000-07:00

Most Thursdays I have lunch with a great group of expats at Robin's Kitchen, where Robin serves up a variety of lunch specials and the best desserts in Costa Rica. Until yesterday my favorite was mocha pie, but that rich and creamy delight has been bested by the tart and sweet key lime pie. Maybe next week I'll pick another favorite, like the orange cake.

I joined this group of brujas (female witches, affectionately named after the mascot of the city where we have lunch, Escazu) in February of this year. We talk about anything and everything, and it has been a lot of fun getting to know each woman.

One of the things I like best about this group is that we celebrate birthdays. In April I received many gifts, and for a single person without much family and certainly none in this foreign country, it is a blessing and a comfort to be shown such love and friendship on my special day.

Yesterday we celebrated Carina's 40th birthday. Carina is from Sweden and is a very good golfer (she broke 80, whatever that means). But instead of going to the restaurant, Corinne invited us to her house way up the mountain of San Antonio de Escazu. Finding Corinne's house was a trip, because we did not have clear directions and no one's cell phone had a good signal. But we finally found the house with all windows overlooking the Central Valley.

This is a wine-drinking group, so we started with reds and whites with our appetizers. Corinne, a Philippino, is married to an Indian and has learned to cook delicious Indian food. I also love that we are somewhat of an ethnically diverse group. Corinne prepared all the food with love and attention to detail. We ate on the semi-enclosed balcony and thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. Jane brought her little angel, Alexis, who will turn one year old on Lisa's birthday in July. Alexis munched on Cheerios while we enjoyed chicken, rice and eggplant dishes and flatbread. I wish I could remember the names of everything.

While Robin wasn't there with us, two of her desserts were. The key lime pie and a chocolate cake. Corinne added a carrot pudding that was also very good. Of course, we sang happy birthday to Carina, and she opened our gifts.

Then we piled into the living room and turned on the karaoke. Oooooweeee! Did we have fun! We have two professional singers in our group, Barbara and Sally, the former and the current lead singers from Harmony Roads, a rock n roll, country, blues band (see my story, La Lunada). And the rest of us did the best we could. I had never sung karaoke before, and was a little hesitant to try, but I felt supported by the group, and after the first song, no one could shut me up. It's like singing hymns in church: it doesn't matter if you can carry a tune or not when you sing with passion and zeal.

Our lunches usually last 2 to 2.5 hours, but we stayed at Corinne's 4 hours. And then she sent us home with doggy bags of her yummy Indian food.

Barbara belting out a song with Alexis on her lap

Sunday at Mayito's, or How to Pour Tequila

2009-06-15T14:29:00.000-07:00

Sunday afternoon Susan, Yalile, Toro and I went to Mayito's backyard BBQ hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Mayito only makes two dishes: roast chicken and chicharrones (fried pork). It had been a while since we had devoured Mayito's great chicken, and we missed it. We sat around, talking with folks at other tables, drinking beer, and feeding our faces.

We got there around 4pm and just stayed, passing the time. After the beers and the food were gone, the tequila showed up. First, Mayito brought a shot for Toro and himself. Then Yalile started in on the shots. Then Susan. I was still sucking ice cubes from my one and only watered-down beer.

Someone put on a CD of American oldies but goodies. I remember listening to Creedence Clearwater's Proud Mary while Susan translated the words for our tico friends. Yalile and Toro actually speak and understand English, although it's a fractured English, but I usually understand their meaning.

Yalile started singing another American song. Since she didn't know the words, she made them up. But her words didn't have anything to do with the song. She started singing about Susan and drinking. It was very funny to listen to her because she didn't even try to rhyme her lyrics; she just blurted out whatever came to her, and it wasn't exactly on key.

Around about that time, I decided to have a shot of tequila. I know I can't handle too much of that stuff, but I thought I would have one shot to see how smoothly it would go down. My attention was on picking up the bottle and tipping it over the shot glass so I wasn't listening to what Yalile was singing at that moment. I was looking at the bottle and shaking it, wondering why no tequila was pouring out, when I heard Yalile singing about me and how I didn't drink very much. Suddenly everyone was laughing and I realized that the cap to the tequila bottle was still on. It was one of those hysterically funny moments that couldn't have been planned. It was as though I drank so little that I didn't know how to open the bottle. We laughed until we cried.

I finally took the cap off and poured myself a shot.

At some point I got up and started dancing to the oldies. Toro and Yalile did, too. We made a train and danced around the tables on the dirt floor. Susan snapped some pictures.

We were there so long that it was time to eat again. Without us asking for it, Mayito brought us a plate of roasted garlic that was to die for, and a plate of chicharrones. Ooh, can he cook!

At 7:30pm we finally closed up the place.

Mayito

Mayito and Toro

Yalile, Toro and Margie dancing

Making Claussen Dill Pickles

2009-05-14T07:53:00.000-07:00

For the past week I've been working on duplicating my favorite pickle, the Claussen Dill. This refrigerated brand isn't sold in Costa Rica, so I crave these pickles when I go back to the US.

Recently my friend and chiropractor, Dr. Jim McLellan, had me taste a pickle that he had made. He's always experimenting with something to do with food. In a very small backyard, he raises rabbits, tilapia fish, chickens for their eggs, and all sorts of vegetables and herbs.

My taste buds were shocked! The pickle he had me taste was a Claussen Dill. He said they were easy to make, and gave me the recipe. Here it is below:

1 1/2 quarts boiled water, cooled
2 garlic cloves, peeled and halved
8-10 pickling cucumbers, sliced into spears
6 long sprigs fresh dill
1 tbls coarse kosher salt
1/2 cup white vinegar

Put some dill and the garlic at the bottom of a big jar.
Add the cucumber spears. Put sprigs of dill in the center of the cucumbers.
Add salt and vinegar, then fill jar with cooled, boiled water.
Cover. Shake to dissolve salt.
Set upside down in cool, dark place.
Let sit 4-5 days, turning jar either upright or upside down each day.
Let sit upright 2 more days.
Refrigerate.
Good for about 6 months.

Susan's Epic Birthday

2009-05-09T12:17:00.001-07:00

Susan turned 50 this week and it has been the endless birthday celebration. We started on Monday by having a free overnight at the Hampton Inn near the airport. Susan works in tourism and was able to finagle a free room, and she asked me to accompany her. It was a very nice hotel with a sparkling clean room, free full breakfast, and friendly service. The hotel honored her with a bottle of sparkling wine and a box of Ferrero Rocher candies. For dinner, we went next door to the Fiesta Casino and shared chicken wings and a Caesar salad. A friend of mine sent over drinks, and then it was Ladies' Night so we got more free drinks. The place started filling up with young ticas half our age. In fact, there were so many of them, they overflowed onto the dance floor and there was hardly any room to dance. It didn't matter to us, though, because none of the teenybopper guys wanted to dance with their grandmothers. So we called it a night and went back to the room.

Wednesday was Susan's actual birthday, and about 10 of us took her to lunch at TGIFriday's. I had brought a candle and stuck it in her bowl of ice cream. The staff sang the birthday song, in Spanish, of course, then we all sang in English, even though Susan and I were the only English-speaking ones in the group. A meal here doesn't last just an hour or hour and a half. Three or three and a half hours later, we finally left.

Margie, Lupe, Hazel, Yalile, Susan at TGIFriday's

Sue doing the hula while the TGIFriday's staff sang her happy birthday

Friday night was Susan's official birthday party. Yalile got to Coyunda's (the place where we go dancing Saturday nights) early and decorated the hall (with her two daughters) with balloons, streamers and funny eyeglasses, which we wore for a group photo.

Oscar, Margie, Patri, Anabel, Jenny, Jose and Michelangelo wearing our funny glasses

Yalile got folks to make yummy food - Mayito (he has a weekend restaurant where he makes chicharrones (fried pork) and roasted chicken) sent over chicharrones for about 20 of us, plus Yalile's neighbor made piccadillo (a mixture of finely chopped potatoes and some other ingredients I can never remember). I brought a chocolate cake from Robin's Kitchen (where I have lunch every Thursday with a different bunch of friends).

The Cake

The party was a fine tribute to a wonderful friend.

Susan with her birthday cake

Cinco de Mayo Fiesta at Patty's

2009-05-09T11:59:00.000-07:00

Patty went all out for her Cinco de Mayo party. Since she lives on a narrow street with a treacherously steep dip, she asked us to park on the main drag, and her friend Wagner drove us to and from her house. About 40 of us celebrated the Mexican tradition of the fifth of May.

The food was delicious, of course, as were the margaritas. And who could resist the shots of tequila from the pretty bottle that Patty passed around?

Poet MariAmanda read a couple of her poems, although they were lost on me. It's hard enough for me to understand straight-talking Spanish, let alone metaphorical Spanish. But it sounded pretty and she read it with emotion.

Then the mariachis strummed and sang their way up the driveway to entertain us. I had brought my maracas, so I shook them in rhythm as though I knew what I was doing. A Latin friend of Patty's belted out a few songs with the band.

Patty and dog Lucky in front of the mariachis, with her friend in jeans also singing

Old friends Barb and Richie Highgate and me

Yalile's Birthday Party at Tex Mex

2009-04-27T08:51:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of friends here with April and May birthdays. My April 13 birthday celebration has gone on and on, and I'm still waiting for Betty to take me out to lunch when she gets back from Florida.

Yesterday's celebration was for my new tica friend, Yalile. She turned 40-something. Yalile is a great person, is related to half of Santa Ana, and knows the other half. So at her party, which was held at the Tex Mex restaurant and bar, there were dozens of people in attendance.

Our mutual close friend, Susan, who is going to turn 50 next week, helped blow up balloons and set up the restaurant for the party. Marimba Los Arias, our local marimba band, played, and there was a lot of dancing. I don't know why I wore my white heels that are a little too loose and are not good for dancing, but I did, and hobbled around on the cobblestone dance floor.

I arrived at 1:30 in the afternoon and finally left at 8:00 in the evening. I'm told the party moved after that from Tex Mex to El Coco, one of our favorite hangouts owned by Yalile's cousin. And tonight a group is getting together at El Coco again for the hair of the dog. Without me, though. I'll be home getting my Dancing with the Stars fix.

Yalile (standing), the Birthday Girl

Margie and Susan

Happy 15

2009-04-19T17:37:00.000-07:00

When a Latin girl turns 15, it's a big deal. Her family throws a big party for her and she receives many gifts. This is a coming-of-age event, similar to a Bat Mitzvah, but the religious overtones vary, depending on the country and the family.

I had the honor of being invited by the parents to their daughter's quince años (15 years) celebration. My Canadian friend, Susan, who has been coming to Santa Ana for eight years and has lived here for eight months, has generously introduced me to her very large circle of tico friends and acquaintances. It was through her that the parents invited me to attend the party.

Quinceañeras can range from rustic to lavish. The party we attended was definitely rustic. Held in the parking lot of a tractor truck terminal, we set up our beach chairs in the afternoon shade of a semi. As more guests arrived, they set up chairs with us or sat in the open-air back of a Jeep.

Under a canopied hut, the father, Parrita, tended to the fire and food. He grilled rubbed beef and he made chicharrones, which are deep fried pork pieces. If you can ignore the fat, the chicharrones are one of the best-tasting foods in all of Costa Rica. There were also big vats of cooked yucca and salad.

The birthday girl, Yoryita (pronounced Georgita), looked very pretty in a purple dress. She hung out with girls and boys her age, while family members and friends rounded out the 50 or 60 invitees.

Of course, at any tico party, the booze flows. People brought their own bottles of Johnny Walker Red, vodka, guaro (a hard liquor made from sugar cane) and beer. This was not a wine-drinking crowd. Music blared from a boombox. Everyone socialized with everyone. And all in Spanish.

I met some interesting new people, including Hernán, who studied agronomy in Russia for six years and who speaks a little English. He and his wife said they wanted to invited Susan and me to their house in San Jose for dinner sometime.

Yoryita

Parrita cooking

Susan and Yorya (Yoryita's mother)

Hernán and Margie

Carly Simon Is Singing to Me

2009-03-26T16:18:00.000-07:00

You know that song, "You're So Vain." Well, I guess I am.

Little by little, I'm starting to look older. I still don't look my age (59 in a few weeks), but telltales signs of aging are creeping up on me.

I can live with the vertical lines above my lips that make my lipstick bleed up, and I can live with the flab that waves under my arms. And I can live with the purple veins on the sides of my knees. But when I saw more of those purple veins on the backs of my legs, I reached for the phone and called my dermatologist.

Technically, they are not varicose veins. They are capillaries, and I can live without them, according to Dr. Freer. To get rid of them, he injects them with something (can't remember what - saline?) that collapses them.

I had the procedure done today. I think of it as my first step toward cosmetic surgery. I lay on the table in his office, he filled a syringe, and punctured me in all (I hope, I haven't looked at my legs yet) the spots that were purple. Then he taped a cotton ball over each spot, and wrapped an Ace bandage around each leg, from below my knee to above it. The Ace bandages will keep pressure on the injection sites, to keep the capillaries from filling up again. I have to wear the bandages for three days.

Driving home, the injection sites stung, but it was pain I could live with. Gradually, the pain has subsided, and what's left as I write this are two legs wrapped like mummies with knees that can't bend too well. I'm not supposed to get the bandages wet, so I'll be taking sponge baths.

I made sure that this would be a non-dancing weekend. I got a lot of merengue out of my system last weekend. Tonight I'm in, and I'll prop my mummy legs up on the couch while I watch Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice. Tomorrow night I'll wear slacks to dinner at a friend's house then four of us are going to see the University for Peace's production of The Vagina Monologues. Saturday will be tough because it's summer here, and hot during the days. I'm going to the Democrats Abroad picnic and I'll have to wear long pants to cover the bandages. And on Sunday I'll expose my legs for the first time at Olga's birthday party.

I never thought I'd opt to change my appearance as I aged. I'm still not running out to lift the turkey wattle under my chin, but cosmetic surgery is no longer out of the question. I live in one of the cosmetic surgery centers in the world. People come here from all over to have work done, at very low prices. The kicker is that today's visit cost $61, but after insurance pays me 80% back, I'll have gotten rid of those unsightly purple veins for only 12 bucks and a little discomfort.

Ladies, Start Your Engines

2009-03-18T15:01:00.000-07:00

Well, today was another interesting day with unexpected activity. I was rushing to do errands, make my 10:30 chiropractor appointment, then drive to Multiplaza (Mall) to have lunch with a new friend. I drove downtown Santa Ana, parked my car, went back to it and it would not start. Deader than dead. With no warning.

Fortunately, I was diagonally across the street from a gas station with a mechanic, so I got three of the guys to come over and figure out the problem. They tested the battery, the fuses, then figured out that the problem was with the starter. One of them hit the starter with a screwdriver and then the car started.

The only English-speaking mechanic told me to go to the central car parts place to buy a new starter. So I went to Don Esteban and asked for a starter. They needed to know the Spanish word. I didn't know the Spanish word. After much discussion by everyone in the parts shop, the guy waiting on me called someone to get the phone number of the bilingual gas station guy, Ernesto, who helped me, to find out what I needed. Turned out I needed un arrancador (starter in Spanish - remember this word; there will be a quiz). The guy looked up the arrancador for my car, but he didn't have one in stock. Meanwhile, a mechanic named ChiChi who was at the parts store told me he could fix my arrancador today for $35-44. I waited to hear what a new arrancador would cost if he could get one: $300. !Ay caramba!

So I followed ChiChi around the corner to his shop. There was an English-speaking customer just leaving who vouched for ChiChi's work, so I left my car there. "Come back in three hours," he said. Okay, that would make it 2:30. The shop was around another corner from my chiropractor's office, so I walked over there, and Dr. Jim took me right away (I've had a headache for two days and I needed an adjustment). By then it was 11:35 and I was supposed to be at the mall to meet my friend who has no cell phone five minutes ago. I knew I couldn't make it to the mall in good time if I waited for the bus, so Dr. Jim called his favorite taxi driver and I ended up paying $4 to get to the mall. There has been construction going on for the last several months to widen the highway, and some offramps have been closed, including the one to the mall, so Weymar had to drive all the way around the mall to get me to the front door.

I found my friend and we were just washing our hands before we sat down to have lunch, when my friend, Maria, walked in with a friend of hers. I told Maria about my car, and she offered to drive me back to Santa Ana after my friend and I had lunch, which was a godsend because I didn't know where the bus stop was anymore since the offramp was closed.

So my friend and I had lunch, then Maria and I did a little shopping. I finally bought a rice cooker, which is supposed to cook perfect rice every time (unlike my soggy or stuck-to-the-pan rice). Then Maria and I headed to Santa Ana, where she dropped me off at the mechanic's place.

Of course, the car was not ready. "Ahorita," ChiChi said, which can mean in just a minute or in just a few hours; in other words, tico time. Then he said 20 minutes. Of course, being a gringa, I thought he actually meant 20 minutes. I walked around Santa Ana, did a little window shopping, stopped at the post office, then arrived back at the shop in 30 minutes. Nope, not ready yet.

Summer has finally arrived, which I didn't even realize because inside my apartment it is cool; so cool, in fact, that I still wear socks and long pajamas to bed at night. Walking around the hot and dusty town made me thirsty. So I walked down the street to a new German restaurant and had a cold soda. This time when I got back, the car was ready. It started up right away. And the price: only $31.

Can you say "starter" in Spanish?

Free Concert and Asian Market

2009-03-10T15:58:00.000-07:00

I decided at the last minute to drive into San Jose late this morning to attend a lunchtime concert and to shop at SuperSony, the Asian market. I called a couple of friends to see if they wanted to go with me, but they already had plans. Which was fine. I like venturing off by myself.

Both places are on Calle 3 (Third Street), right in the heart of downtown San Jose. I parked in a lot and walked down the pedestrian mall that Calle 3 has become to the Teatro Nacional (National Theatre). The cultural commission wants to introduce more culture to ticos, so they are offering Tuesday lunchtime mini-concerts lasting 30-40 minutes inside the beautiful theatre for only $1. Since I have legal temporary residency, that's the price I pay, too. Everyone else (read: tourists) has to pay $9.

I was standing in line to buy a ticket when an usher told the people behind me that today's tickets were sold out. This was only the second Tuesday mini-concert and I was surprised that it was already sold out. I could buy a ticket for next week's concert, but I didn't want to shlep all the way back into San Jose again (it's really not that big of a deal, but I do like the comfort of staying put in Santa Ana, which is only about 10 miles from the theatre).

So I left the theatre and stood outside where 200 or so people were milling around. This is a very popular area, with the Grand Hotel and the Cultural Park right there. I started talking to a tico tour guide who was waiting for people to take a walking tour of San Jose (I've already taken it and it's fascinating) and told him the tickets were sold out. He went over to a gringo and asked if he had an extra ticket.

The gringo, Gordon, happened to have four tickets, two for him and his wife, and two that he was not going to use because they were for his friend who had a heart attack and had to go back to the States. So he gave me a ticket. Free! I offered to pay the $1, but he waved me off. He wanted to give me the other unused ticket, too. He said, "Do you have a boyfriend?" I said no. He said, "Well, go find one and he can have this extra ticket." It was very funny. I looked around the square and didn't see anyone remotely likely to be a boyfriend of mine.

All of a sudden the tour guide came up to us with another woman (no, sorry, this does not have a boyfriend happy ending) who needed a ticket. Mayra is a tica about my age who lives and works in Manuel Antonio (tourist resort area with howler monkeys and a pretty beach on the west coast) and took a few days off to come to the city for vacation. Gordon gave her the ticket, and we all went into the theatre together.

We had about 25 minutes before the concert began, and Mayra and I talked for the entire time in Spanish. She loves to travel, and I'm starting to get wanderlust, so we had much to talk about.

The concert was fantastic! Four young pianists each played a piano piece - WITHOUT SHEET MUSIC! They played pieces from Beethoven, Chopin and Liszt with mucho gusto. Gordon had bought tickets in the front row center, so we were able to see every emotional facial gesture that the pianists made, and they made a lot. The concert was thoroughly enjoyable.

As the full house let out, I lost track of Mayra, which is too bad, because we had much in common, and I would like to have gotten her contact information.

From the theatre, I walked back down Calle 3, and stopped in at a friend's B&B. Alf Richardson is a Brit who came to Costa Rica from Kenya several years ago, and was my first date after I moved here. He took me to the annual Robbie Burns dinner at the Costa Rica Country Club (a very hoity toity place). Alf bought a B&B in a great location and recently finished renovating it. Just this week I had an opportunity to refer some people to his place, so I thought I would stop in at Casa Alfi and see what he had done. I got a tour of the place, which is very nice, and the prices are extremely reasonable (starting at $30 for a single).

My last stop was SuperSony. I have no idea why it's called that. I bought fresh tofu (I'm going to make stir fry tonight), potstickers, chili paste, sesame oil, rice crackers and a few other things that I can't get at my local yuppie supermarket.

Somehow I got lost driving home. All the streets in San Jose are one-ways and I couldn't drive down the street that was going in the direction I wanted because a hospital was plunked down in the middle of the street. So I kept veering left and finally ended up just where I thought I might, which made me feel really good that I have a sense now of where I am, even if I'm not on a street that I recognize. After 3.5 years here, I can finally find my way out of a wet paper bag.

Wild Women's Weekend February 2009

2009-02-17T14:03:00.000-08:00

Two new CouchSurfing friends and I decided to take off for a long weekend to the beach. I had been to Montezuma but Santa Teresa was new for me. Both are located near the southern tip of the Nicoya peninsula on the Pacific coast.

Ellen was in charge of planning transportation, and I called around to find rooms. Getting there was part of the adventure. We took the bus from Santa Ana to San Jose, then 2.5-hour bus to Puntarenas where we were supposed to take the 2:30 ferry so we could meet yet another bus on the other shore. But in Puntarenas we found out the 2:30 bus had been delayed to 3:45, and we didn't think we'd be able to make the bus connection to arrive at our hotel that night. Uh oh, what to do?

We saw a couple of 20-something guys driving an SUV (surfboards on top), waiting for a ferry to a different port on the other side. Age emboldens, as this story shows. Ellen and I (59 and 58) went up to the guys (Ben and Jesse) and asked if the three of us could catch a ride with them from the port on the other side to a central town where we would be able to catch a bus to Montezuma, and arrive at our hotel that night. They agreed. Then we had to buy tickets for that ferry that was already starting to load. The ticket line was very long, and we didn't want to miss boarding with the guys, so I went to the front of the line and asked a cute young guy (in Spanish) if he would buy me three tickets. He did, and we all boarded the ferry.

Getting off the ferry, we set off in the SUV over one of the bumpiest dirt roads I have seen in Costa Rica, and I have seen many. Ben, the driver, thought it was an amusement ride, and we three women in the back were airborne for much of the ride. But we made it to Cobano a good 45 minutes before the bus would leave for Montezuma. Instead of waiting around, though, we splurged on a taxi and drove into Montezuma while it was still light.

Montezuma is a throwback to the old hippie days. You can get high just walking along the street, and street vendors sell jewelry, pipes and other paraphernalia. Our room at El Tajalin had three single beds and air conditioning, and we stayed for two nights.

On Friday, we hiked up the waterfall to a big watering hole where we spent the day swimming and lying in the sun. The water was fresh, clean and refreshing. The place was a melting pot, and I met people from all over. The couple from Kanab, Utah, was my favorite. Bobbi and Sky seemed to be really enjoying their retirement. There was a woman in her 40s from Germany who has been traveling for 1.5 years, making and selling jewelry along the way. Her mother was currently visiting her from Germany for two months. Martin, from British Columbia, dared to dive from the rocks (I found out later that people have been killed doing just that) and put on a show for the audience below. I thought I was watching a suicide until he surfaced. There was a young Canadian family with two little girls who made it up the waterfall. That was no easy feat. I was wearing my Tevas and developed three blisters from the hike, one on the bottom of my foot that burst and caused me to lay off walking for the next couple of days.

Saturday morning we took a van then a bus into Santa Teresa. This is becoming a world-famous surfing community, and rooms were hard to come by. We shared a room at Casa Zen for $10/person per night. Casa Zen had a Thai restaurant, but we ate most of our meals around the corner at a small soda called All Natural. They made delicious chicken curry, bacon and eggs, ceviche to order, and a fantastic banana mango smoothie. The food was cheap (about $4 per meal) and very satisfying.

The beach was at the end of the block. It was a surfing beach, but we could go in up to our waists and bodysurf. The waves crashed on us, but there wasn't a serious riptide to pull us out. The sand was fine and soft, and there were plenty of palm trees to provide shade from the hot sun. Life, indeed, was very good there.

Nancy, my CouchSurfing houseguest, hooked up with Charlie, a guy we met at the beach. Charlie is from the US and speaks Spanish. He was working at a call center in El Salvador when a family with two small children passed through town in an old converted school bus and invited him to be their nanny. He left the job, boarded the bus with only the clothes on his back, his passport and a book, and away they went to Costa Rica. It was love at first sight for Nancy and Charlie, so Ellen and I took off for home on Monday morning without her. Some women are a little wilder than others.

My First CouchSurfing Experience

2009-02-17T12:56:00.000-08:00

I like to meet people, and I like to try new things. So I joined CouchSurfing. I offer travelers my extra bedroom when they are passing through and when it's convenient for me, and when I want to travel, I can contact CouchSurfers in the area I'll be visiting to see if they can accommodate me.

No sooner had I joined this organization when I received a request from Nancy, a 36-year-old Australian who was traveling the world solo for a year. She wanted to stay with me for a few days, and after checking her references online, I invited her to my place.

CouchSurfing is also a social group that plans parties and get-togethers. The day I met Nancy, she and I attended a CS lunch, where we met about 40 others - some travelers but mostly folks who live around here. The group was split by age - young'uns in their 20s and 30s, and us older folks in our 50s and up. I was happy to meet these new people, and look forward to seeing them again. In fact, this Friday some of us older women are getting together for lunch, and on Sunday the group is having a cheesecake party.

Nancy stayed here four nights and to my delight, she turned out to be a wonderful cook and a massage therapist. From her Chinese background, she learned to make delicious meals from just a few ingredients. I took notes and now I'm feeding myself the way she fed me. She also saved me a couple of visits to the chiropractor by doing deep-tissue massage on my neck, shoulders and back.

One of the women I met at the CS lunch is Ellen, who lives on Vancouver Island in Canada, but is staying here in Costa Rica for a few months. She, Nancy and I decided to take off last weekend on a Wild Women's Weekend to the tip of the Nicoya peninsula on the Pacific coast. See my post on that fun adventure!

La Lunada Potluck Jam Session

2009-02-08T05:39:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to my first (and hopefully not my last) Lunada, thanks to the invitation of Sally O'Boyle. Sally sings in a band with other folks around our age called Harmony Roads. Once a month around the full moon (Lunada), the band members and invited guests who are musical and some who are not gather at the beautiful home of Barry Biesanz, the leader of the pack and exquisite artisan who works with wood.

The house is situated high on a mountain in Escazu with an astounding view of the Central Valley. The musicians jammed in a room lined with windows, so the audience had a sweeping view of twinkling lights in the background.

Before getting down to the business of making music, we shared a potluck dinner. Most of the gatherings I go to involve bringing food to share. I brought my easy-to-make coconut flan pie, which got wolfed down before I had a chance to take a bite (a blessing in disguise?). In turn, I stuffed myself with homemade bread, curried chicken salad, and Hal's delicious lentil soup, which I had also had for lunch when I was at Hal and Sally's house earlier in the day.

Harmony Roads bills itself as Costa Rica's oldest gringo band, playing eclectic music: oldies, country, folk, blues, 50s, and rock and roll. La Lunada wasn't a concert, although I did enjoy listening to the music. The experience for me was more of seeing close up how people get together and create music, like making magic. They brought their guitars, violin, drums, harmonica, voices and put them together, and out came songs.

The musicians had fun making their music, and for one song, I jumped in and banged a tambourine in rhythm (I hope) to a country song. The greatest delight was the attendance of Ben and his violin. Barry found him on Craigslist and invited him to come to the event. Ben is very talented and could improvise on any tune.

This morning I've still got music on my brain. Yee haw!

SuperBowl Party 2009

2009-02-03T14:23:00.000-08:00

I'm a big New England Patriots fan. For some weird reason, the Patriots didn't make it into the SuperBowl playoffs, even though they had 11 wins and only 5 losses during the regular season.

So I had no vested interest in which team won the SuperBowl. But there's something about the Pittsburgh Steelers that I just don't like. Maybe it's their yellow and black uniform that I find threatening, or maybe it's the meanness and unusual heft of their defense, or the fact that they have beaten my team. Whatever the reason, I didn't want to see them win the trophy. I had no problems with the Arizona Cardinals, though. I didn't know much about them, other than the team moved from St. Louis. But they must have done something right to have made it as far as the SuperBowl. So I decided to root for them.

Diane hosted the big SuperBowl party on Sunday. During this season and last, we took turns hosting football parties to watch our favorite teams: Diane's Dallas Cowboys, Ellen's Miami Dolphins, and my Patriots. I have a tendency to get obnoxiously excited when my team is winning, but my friends tolerate me just the same.

On Sunday about 13 of us brought food and drinks to Diane's, and settled in to watch The Game. Somehow I lucked out and got to sit in the big chair - a leather recliner that tilts so far back that it becomes a bed. I lack the weight/power to close the leg rest, so once I'm reclined, I have to climb over the side to get in or out, like a toddler in a crib.

To make the game interesting, we all placed bets in a pool. Diane and Mark created a grid, and we each paid $2 for a cell in the grid. I bought two cells. Depending on the score at the end of each quarter, someone would win $10, and the big winner would take home $20. I won nada, zilch, zero.

Not only did I win nada, zilch, zero in the group bet, but I had a side bet with Shell. Shell is my sworn nemesis. Whomever I cheer for, he cheers for the other team. In 2006 and 2007 when the Patriots were in contention, Shell was particularly nasty to me, which is probably why I have become so obnoxiously excited about my team. So even though I didn't really care too much if Arizona beat Pittsburgh, I bet Shell that the Cardinals would win. The last quarter's action was electrifying for both teams, and Shell and I ribbed each other mercilessly as each team scored. But we all know how the game ended: Pittsburgh beat Arizona 27 to 23. And I had to hand over another $2 to a jubilant Shell.

I did come away richer, though, from having shared a fun evening with friends and eaten delicious food.

CRL Get Together at Tequila Joe's

2009-02-02T08:16:00.000-08:00

Saturday I went to a CRL get together at Tequila Joe's in Santa Ana. CRL stands for Costa Rica Living. It's a Yahoo group that I joined four years ago (could it be that long ago?!) when I was thinking of moving to Costa Rica. It's composed of about 4500 non-Costa Ricans who either live in Costa Rica or want to.

When I was first researching Costa Rica on the Internet from my home in Florida, I was befriended by several people in CRL, a couple of whom are still friends. By reading the questions and answers about everyday life and moving to a foreign country, I learned much of what helped me land on my feet when I finally made the move in August of 2005.

Every few months, whoever feels like it initiates a lunch get-together at a different restaurant. I volunteered to scope out Tequila Joe's because It would mean not having to drive very far. I talked to the owner, an American (geez, there are so many of us here), who assured me the indoor/outdoor restaurant could accommodate 100 or more of us, all with individual checks. The moderators of the Yahoo group decided this would be the place, so about 35 of us turned up for lunch. The Mexican food was just okay, but the socializing was very good.

I got to see old friends (George and Fred, John from Texas, Sharon/Dick/Maia - original friends from four years ago, LizBrit and Dick, Janet and Courney, Steve my grammar buddy, bold and funny Robbie, Sally/Hal and their two handome manchildren -to call them boys is such an understatement) and made some new ones.

Long Weekend at Betty's Beach House

2009-01-25T14:58:00.000-08:00

Betty invited me to spend a long weekend at her family's beach house in Tarcoles, just before the infamous Jacó surfing town, on the Pacific coast. I was supposed to go last year during her kids' school vacation, but it didn't work out for various reasons. This year (kids have their summer vacation here in December, January and early February) we made sure that I accompanied them for a few days of fun in the sun.

The weather was perfect - sunny, 80s, lovely tropical breeze. Since I didn't get out of Dodge in December, I was ready for a little R&R. Children are not usually my favorite breed of people, but Betty's kids are great to hang out with! She and Eduardo are doing a wonderful job of raising them. In the picture from left to right there is Daniela, 11, Mateo, 9, me, Diego, 8, and Betty. That's Tao (dog), the fourth sibling, in Betty's lap. This was the second time I've spent time with the kids. We once went to the amusement park, so I already knew I liked to be around them.

One morning we drove down the dirt and rock road to the beaches behind the Punta Leona resort. We parked Betty's new little Yaris and trekked to Playa Blanca, a beautiful white sand beach (sort of like Siesta Key in Florida). Mateo was my hero - he carried my beach chair so I didn't have to strain my bad shoulder. We sat under a shade tree, the kids built a sand castle, and we swam in the warm, turquoise water. Did life get any better than that? Betty and I asked each other.

Back at the house, which has its own beach with black sand, we read a lot, napped, the kids played in the pool. I had brought easy Sudoku puzzles, and showed Diego and Mateo how to do them. I also brought Pass the Pigs, one of my favorite, simple games. It was a big hit with the kids.

Saturday night Eduardo, Betty's husband, took the bus from San Jose and joined us. Betty had been telling me about Eddy for two+ years, and I was beginning to think he didn't really exist because I had never met him. But I finally did, and he was easy to talk to. He brought a bag of peanuts in the shell, and we sat around eating, drinking, and relaxing.

After three nights and a very relaxing time, it was time to head for home. I feel totally chilled out.

Inauguration Day Party

2009-01-21T14:27:00.001-08:00

I finally felt proud to be an American again on January 20. My friends felt the same. We came together, about a dozen of us, plus two Canadian friends and two tico (Costa Rican) friends, to celebrate the hope that Barack Obama and his family stand for. Tears flowed as we watched the pomp and ceremony leading up to the making of the new president.

Obama's speech covered all the bases; we heard what we needed to hear. Whether all or even many of his goals can be achieved, time will tell. He will need everyone's cooperation - that of Congress, world leaders, and every individual.

Starbucks is offering a free cup of coffee to everyone who commits to doing five hours of community service. That's the kind of cooperation and corporate leadership that's needed.

I talked to a few tico and Argentinian friends who have real jobs here. They all stopped what they were doing to watch Barack Obama take the oath. They, too, are hopeful for a better world.

Hearts, not Swastikas

2009-01-21T14:04:00.000-08:00

I walk most mornings. It's the only form of exercise I can do without taxing my bad shoulder. There's my usual route, which takes 30-40 minutes, my long route, which takes an hour and 10 minutes (I only do this once a week), and my Sunday route, which takes about 30 minutes.

On my usual route, I noticed a swastika drawn in white chalk on a brick wall a couple of weeks ago. I was appalled to see it - one, because it was outside an evangelical church, which I presume preaches love, and two, because I live in a peaceful area without gangs or skinheads (that I know of).

On one of my walks, I tried to erase the swastika with my rubber-soled sneaker, but I just smudged it a little. Every time after that, I would walk past it and think about how I could erase that evil sign.

I designed a little project. I went to Hipermas (Wal-mart in Costa Rica) and bought some white chalk. Chalk in Spanish is tiza. On my walk this morning, I stopped at the swastika, and took the chalk out of my pocket. I filled in the open lines and made them boxes, then inside the boxes I drew hearts.

Out of hatred comes love. I hope whoever drew the swastika will notice the change and leave it like that.