Nicaragua!

Nicaragua!

Gloria, my Brit friend from California, and I went off to Granada, Nicaragua for a 3-day visit. (Since Gloria is in Costa Rica on a tourist visa, she has to leave the country every three months for a 72-hr. period. I don't have to do that since I have my residency permit which just has to be renewed inside CR once a year). What a glorious time we had! The people, the colors, the sights were all marvelous! The first picture is Gloria and I taking the required tourist tour of the city by horse-drawn buggy. The next picture is from inside the Mercado Central, a huge warren made of cement (see counters and walls) with all manner of things available. Fruits and vegetables are laid out in baskets or directly on the counters (or floors!), meats, chicken and fish are laid on banana leaves, also directly on the counters. The next picture is of a booth selling primarily grains - rice, beans, etc. There are about 5-6 different grades of rice with different prices, depending on how many fragments (unwhole grains) are in the mix. Note the little girl in the purple dress. You won't see any little girls in levis, or any kind of pants actually, in Nicaragua, or in Costa Rica either. They are always dressed in their "Sunday best" when out in public.

One of the things that intrigued me was that all of the women in the mercado, or anyplace they were selling goods, wore aprons covered with ruffles and trim. On closer inspection, the aprons had at least two zippered pockets for money collecting. I took a lot of pictures of aprons - these are just a couple.
































This lady was the most cheerful person I saw in the mercado. She was waving a towel to keep the flies off the chicken she was selling. And here's a charming little girl who was sitting on bags of flour in her mother's booth.


Last but not least of my mercado pictures, was a very pregnant lady carrying a flower arrangement.












Another thing that is totally striking is the use of bright colors everywhere. Here are just a few of the buildings I photographed.

















Next on our list of things to do was a boat ride to the Isletas, a group of more than 300 little islets in the water just a little distance from Granada. (Granada sits on the shores of Lake Nicaragua, a HUGE lake). The islands were formed, it is believed, by the eruption of the Mambocho Volcano (http://www.vianica.com/go/specials/9-nicaragua-volcanoes.html) many thousands of years ago. The islands are mostly individually owned, most of them with vacation homes on them, some of them very elegant. Our boat guide says they are mostly owned by very rich people (of course) and seldom visited. There were, though, a few small and simple homes occupied by locals who fish for a living.

Mambocho, seen from the Isletas.





We ate many of our meals on the "Calle la Calzada" a street several blocks long that is all hotels and restaurants and a lovely place to just hang out in the sunshine. One of our favorite places was O'Sheas Irish Pub, which served a mean fish'n chips as well as local fare. We even spent some time chatting with O'Shea himself, a lovely Irish chap.












And I will close with one of my favorite pictures, which somehow captures the look and feel of Granada for me.

Buses - A Colorful Surprise

"Aleluya" - one of the buses I often ride back and forth to San Isidro.

I ride the bus a lot, almost every day. I live in the little town of San Isidro (with a church, soccer field, school, a couple bars and two small grocery stores). The ”big” metropolitan area of Grecia is a 15-minute bus ride away, and I ride down there often to shop, to visit with friends, to go to the gym and swim, etc.

The buses are intriguing, painted with bright colors and designs, some of them with personal names – Dona Elsi, Matthew, Jesus Alexander – and others unnamed, some with religious messages on the back (Jesus is my Savior, The Lord is my Shepherd, Follow me –with a picture of Jesus). The designs seem only vaguely related to the bus companies and routes. I asked someone who’s been here a long time about this, and he told me that most of the buses are owned by the guys who drive them. He suggested I interview the bus drivers. I sense a really interesting story here, and look forward to a time in the not-too-distant future when my Spanish is good enough to do some interviews.

This guy covered all his bases. He's got these colorful kites all over the sides and back of the bus, and then up by the front the Archangel Gabriel.










Dona Elsi - my favorite so far.








Don Elvin, another handsome sample.







Here's a photo I took inside one of the buses, of a little painting on the wall behind the bus driver. It says “Jesus loves me.”


The photo below is of the bus driver’s money-box, a foam cushion with little slots to hold the money, including several slots for the right change to give back to riders. This particular photo has a young man sitting on the ledge of the front window – he sat there during the whole bus trip, occasionally reaching down to fill up the little slots with correct change for the bus driver. The money sits out there, completely accessible to the riders. Not something we’d see in the US.

There is a casual disregard for rules of safety (and rules of any kind, actually) that is both scary and refreshing. Adults only sometimes put on their seat belts, children seldom do. I feel so indoctrinated about the seatbelt thing - it makes me nervous.

I will continue photographing buses - I'm getting kind of fond of them and think of them by name when they pull into the bus station. Eventually I'll write a story, or even make it a chapter in a book.

The House I Live In

The entry to my front door.

I have been fantastically lucky to get the place I have, and to get it immediately when I began my search, about three weeks after I arrived. It’s a “Tico” house (which means it’s not built or designed to American standards), the significant difference is that there’s no centralized hot water system. I only have hot water in the shower, and it comes through a little device in the showerhead that activates electrically when the water flows through. Sounds scary, I know. People call them “suicide showers.” But I’ve never heard of anyone being harmed, and there are certainly thousands of them in use all over the country. The general water temperature in the rest of the house is cool but not cold, and totally adequate for things like washing dishes, using the soap they use here.

Morning magic: the view from my deck. The house is located just below the top of a ridge, facing generally south. I do not have a yard, but I do have a balcony on the back of the house, looking out at a spectacular view of ridges climbing down from the mountains behind me, the city of Alajuela down in the distance stretched out in the Central Valley, and another set of mountains in the far-off distance forming the other edge of the Central Valley.

I sit out on my balcony most mornings, drinking coffee, eating breakfast and reading my magazines. I am thankfully amazed every day that not only do I get to enjoy the incredible beauty of this country which I had been aware of on all my previous visits, but that I get to stay here permanently. I am no longer on a brief vacation. This is my home!

My landlords, Mario and Marlin, live just across the street with their two children, Fabiana, 10, and José Pablo, 8. (I misunderstood Fabiana’s name when I first met her – thought she was saying Pollyanna). They are delightful, all of them, and I visit with them a fair amount. Dropped in last Sunday just to ask a question and spent the afternoon watching Marlin bake pastries with her two sisters, speaking Spanish and learning more all the time. My Spanish doesn’t quite flow yet, depending on the topic of conversation, but I can manage if people speak slowly and clearly and I have a chance to ask what does something mean. Some people, interestingly, totally understand how to speak slowly and clearly if asked, and some don’t. The ones who don’t are next to impossible to understand – they simply repeat themselves at the same pace over and over. Marlin and Fabiana are great teachers – Fabiana will repeat her sentences one word at a time, making sure I understand each one. The other day she was telling me about a school excursion that was going to happen the next day that had something to do with trees, and there was one word I didn’t understand, and I asked what it meant. She paused thoughtfully, and then said “A plantar en planta!” To plant a plant! Perfect. The word was “sembrar.”

As I said before, my home is surrounded by the homes of various members of Mario and Marlin’s family – parents, siblings, cousins, etc. They are all friendly and helpful. They bring me treats, and offer me rides. I feel like I have more family than I’ve ever had in my life.

The house has many rooms, all floored in a white-patterned tile. I have two bedrooms, an extra little room that could be a bedroom but which I have all my extra supplies in, a good-sized office with a window behind my computer that looks out on the balcony view, an even bigger workshop which is actually the former laundry room, with a tile sink in the corner. I don’t have a washer/dryer but I don’t need one as Marlin does my laundry. I feel somewhat guilty as I accept my little pile of clean, ironed clothes twice a week. But it was included in the rent, from the beginning. I also have a garage, open to the outside but with an iron grate lockable gate. For me it’s just another workspace – I’m currently using it for my nursery, where I pot up my plants and start little seedlings or cuttings. I have about eight bougainvilleas of different colors trying to develop roots.

Kitchen: before and after paint job. Note that the walls look considerably lighter in the "before" picture than they actually were because of the camera flash.


I’ve slowly been painting the rooms, beginning with the living room and kitchen, which were painted in a strong salmon color which I have named “Bad Sunburn.” The living room became an off white which was the only color that would go with all my colorful furnishings, and the kitchen a lighter salmon color which sits well with the rust-brown grout of the tiles. I’ve included some before and after pictures with this chapter.

Living room: before

Living room: after

I chuckle when I look at my stuff - I have an incredibly international collection of things which makes me look like a world traveler. Actually, just about all of it came from my many vendor-friends at Folklife.


I am very very comfortable here with my house and my neighbors, and plan to stay for a long time.

My mailing address

A brief note. If you'd like to send anything, my mailing address is
Corrine Anderson
AP 319-4100
Grecia de Alajuela 20301
Costa Rica

GOOD NEWS CAN CHANGE THINGS

Friday, April 17: AMAZING HOW QUICKLY GOOD NEWS CAN CHANGE THINGS
This one is out of sequence - it should be the second post, but I can't figure out how to change it. Copied below is the email I sent to my friends after I found the house I am living in.

It's now less than three weeks since I arrived here, and so much has happened. I am in the town of Grecia which is where I will be living for the foreseeable future. I rented a small apartment at a local hotel, and have been comfortably established in a sunny friendly place with bougainvilleas outside my window and a lovely swimming pool which nobody uses until mid-afternoon, leaving me free to swim, sip coffee and read in relative peace. I rented the place for a month, having been told that it would take at least that long and probably longer to find someplace to live.

I contacted the local resource guy, Jorge, and before I could even tell him what I was looking for, he said he had a place to show me. Well, I figured, the adventure begins. My needs (desires) were as follows:

2-3 bedrooms, preferably three so I could have an office as well as a guest room.
Access to high-speed internet (you can't get it just anywhere.)
Access to cable TV
Safe and secure
A garden
A view
Less than $400/mo.

He took me out to see a house next to his brother's family, and omigod it was everything I was looking for. More than 3 bedrooms, though they are mostly tiny, (room for a double bed and a tiny bit of space to walk around it - one bedroom is larger and more like what we are used to) and a big laundry room in addition that's larger than most of the bedrooms (hmmm, a workshop probably). The only compromise is that there's no yard, but there is a long narrow deck across the back of the house that looks directly out on a view to die for. Hills, mountains, coffee estates, sugar cane fields - a vista that extends for miles. I will plant some pots full of flowers, and tomatoes in season. The property behind the house just off the deck is a large piece planted with the neighbor's fruit trees - bananas, mango, peaches, papaya and a couple others I don't recognize. The house is part of a compound of four houses on one side of the street and three on the other that houses various members of one family. Couldn't possibly be more safe and secure. I've met several of them and I have a feeling that I've suddenly come into more "family" than I could ever imagine. The only drawback I can see right now will be convincing them that I need a goodly amount of "alone" time. $350/mo. I took it.

Today we are going out to meet the cable guy to tell him which rooms to string the cable to. This is a service that ordinarily can take weeks but apparently Jorge's brother has some connection with the cable company - everything in this country is about who you know and/or are related to. (I read somewhere recently that as little as 50 years ago, everybody in this small country was related to everybody else in some way or another.)

I spent the evening last night having lemonade and cookies with one of the families, speaking English with their 8 and 10 year olds, Spanish with the adults, and am already invited to join them some weekend on a trip to one of the local volcanoes.

I've met some great women - a group of local gringas who just happened to be having a little potluck lunch just after I came to town. So, I have a home, a network and a family. Must have done something right.

Amazing how quickly good news can change things.

THE GRINGAS

I have met a whole lot of incredible women here in a very short time. First, a small group that was just getting together for a potluck – I had made contact with one of them formerly through the internet. There, I met Gloria, the only single woman in that group, and we are becoming good friends. We share a sense of adventure [i.e. let’s just hop on a bus and see where it takes us]. And amazingly, her US home is in Sebastopol, my old stomping grounds in California. She set out four years ago to just travel, and has spent 3-6 months in various places all over the world. She came to Costa Rica for another short stay and has just found herself staying longer than usual – a full year now here in Grecia. She’s talking about the next jaunt, though, and already I know I am going to miss her.

Then, through Gloria, I was invited to another group called “Blooms” which is just an informal group of women that meets once a month for a potluck breakfast and a gathering with little or no purpose. There were about 20 women at this particular meeting, and they each stood up and introduced themselves and shared what they are up to in Costa Rica. An incredibly interesting bunch. Artistic endeavors, charity work [i.e. creating libraries for Costa Rican children who have, by and large,] little or no access to books), running a non-profit breed-and-release program for macaws, etc. I loved all of them, and having admitted that I have a background in event-production, I am sure I will be called on as various fund-raisers get planned. I will be visiting the macaw breeding place next week to take some pictures and talk about helping them with their website. The website and the birds are beautiful by the way. Take a look. http://www.hatchedtoflyfree.org. Be sure to check the “wallpaper” link. There are some fantastic photos to use on your computer screen.

Yesterday, Gloria and I rode with Judy (another woman from the group) and Boyd her husband, to San Jose to see an Orchid Exhibit at the National Museum. The Orchid Exhibit was small and a little bit disappointing but was accompanied by a tent full of food offerings. I had a pupusa, a soft cornmeal pancake with a bean-and-cheese filling, covered with shredded cabbage and fresh salsa – delicious! After the exhibit we walked over to the local arts-and-crafts marketplace where many of the goods were from Nicaragua, Guatemala and Indonesia. It was interesting. The vendors are real practiced with their English.

And then we stopped at the “Chinatown” area downtown (there are a lot of Chinese in Costa Rica, having been brought here originally to build railroads) and went into a store where we bought all kinds of interesting foods. I bought a packaged soup, label all in Chinese, except for a tiny phrase “Torpid and spicy beef.” I can hardly wait to try it.

A delightful day in a new place with new friends.

LIVING IN THE PRESENT TENSE

I have lived in my house just one week today, and most of my stuff is put away, though I could dearly use some cupboards (or less stuff!). My Spanish gets better every day though I often find myself talking in the present tense rather than trying to search my brain for other tenses. I remember often hearing foreigners in the US, saying things like “I go to the store yesterday.” That’s me! My landlords (Mario and Marlene and their two children Pollyanna,10, and Jose Pablo, 8) invite me along whenever they go on shopping trips and other excursions, and Marlene often stops by to share something she has baked or to let me know about stuff, so I get to speak Spanish a lot. Mario’s mother, Amelia, lives right next door – last night she brought me a “little” dish of a soup/stew made of squash, potatoes and meat. Enough for two meals! And delicious.

There is much to think about and write about every day, and I find myself being too “busy” to sit down at the computer and write.

My mornings are like this: I get up and put the coffee on. When it’s ready, I take it out to my deck and drink a cup slowly and listen to the birds and enjoy the view. I make breakfast and return to the deck with more coffee, food (usually a plate of mango, papaya, pineapple, etc.), a magazine, and spend a little more time out there. I come in the house and practice meditation (I am just beginning), take a shower, get dressed, sit down at my computer and check email, etc.

Nothing is hurried. Today I am meeting a friend, Gloria, in Grecia and I have to catch the bus (40 cents, 6 km) into town in 40 minutes to meet her there. [A little note: the “puebla” that I live in, San Isidro, has a church, a soccer field, one restaurant only, open Fri-Sun. a liquor store, two bars and a small grocery store). Gloria and I will sit and drink a cup of coffee or tea in Café Delicias, a small delightful place in the center of town. She’s going to show me around a little – the hardware store where they speak English and you don’t have to figure out how to communicate “screw”, her favorite travel agent, pharmacy, etc. The pharmacists here have some training in basic illnesses, and this particular guy, Gloria claims, is wonderful. She has his cell phone number and is welcome to call him any time and discuss her health issues and get advice on what to do, what to take, who to see, etc. (He is the nephew of her landlady.)

I will be looking at paint colors – I’m going to paint a couple rooms in my house. Every room is painted a very strong color – salmon, gold, slate blue, etc. – which is fine with me but the colors don’t always work with my stuff and my visual senses. For example, I just bought a set of living room furniture yesterday (first time in my life I have paid full retail price for anything over $50) and the pillows are upholstered in a “microsuede”, a synthetic) and the rust-colored microsuede is not going to sit well in my salmon-colored living room. At least I don’t think so. I’m getting used to bizarre and strong color combinations – it may work.

THE BUREAUCRACY & ADDRESS IDIOSYNCRACIES

THE BUREAUCRACY

I’ve spent a fair amount of time this past week dealing with the logistics of being here. A couple examples: I went to ICE, the national Telephone/Electric Company, to get a Cell-phone number. All numbers, both cellular and landlines, are distributed by ICE. Since landlines can take many months to get, a cellular line is a better bet. However, they don’t have any lines available at the moment, so I got my name on a waiting list, and will “maybe” get a line in mid-May. After that, one goes out and buys a phone, brings it back to ICE and they install the number. (Jorge tells me that there will soon be 600,000 new numbers available, and a new plan to discourage cell-phone theft has recently come into being. If your cell-phone is stolen, you just report the theft to ICE and they immediately de-activate your number, making the cell-phone useless. ) The whole process was fairly typical and only involved a wait of an hour or so to get my turn with the service personnel.

I’ve had a more frustrating experience trying to open a bank account. There’s kind of a circular way of doing that. First of all, you have to have a place to live, and either a Residency Permit or a registered business corporation in Costa Rica. So, armed with my permit, my passport, my post office box number and my address, I went to the bank and waited about 45 minutes to get served, only to find out that I also needed a verification of income (I had my Social Security papers in my suitcase) and a municipal bill of some sort from the house I will be living in, not necessarily in my own name. So, two days later, armed with all the second batch of necessary papers, I went back and pulled a number for another wait. This time, I made it a little easier on myself by leaving the bank, having an ice cream cone in the central park, and doing a little shopping. I got back to the bank just as the number before mine came up on the screen. Sat down at the desk when it was my turn and proudly laid out all my papers. Ha! Not so fast. Turns out I needed proof that I was actually renting the place, either a copy of a rental contract, or a rent receipt plus a copy of the owner’s “cedula”, something like his proof of citizenship. Since I haven’t yet paid any rent, I of course don’t have any of that stuff. I’ll see the owners tomorrow and hopefully they will have a contract form I can sign and get a copy of, and maybe the third time will be the charm. This pattern of several return trips to satisfy bureaucratic requirements is typical of Costa Rican negotiations, and is one of the things that drives expats up the wall. At least I am doing all this in the town where I live. Sometimes government requirements can only be filled in the capitol, and each return trip may involve the better part of a day on the bus.

ADDRESSES

My Post Office box address is:

Corrine Anderson
Ap 319-4100
Alajuela Grecia 20301
Costa Rica

Home addresses are trickier. The houses are not numbered, the streets are for the most part not named except in the very center of town and even then there are no street signs. Directions are given by saying something like “100 meters south of the church and 200 meters east” with the number of meters somewhat relative. 100 meters usually means the distance from one side street to the next, whether the actual block is 30, 80 or 200 meters long. My house, for example, is located in San Isidro de Grecia (an outlying suburb) and since there is only one main road into San Isidro, the only other indicator is “150 meters east of the church.” I’ve seen it described as 200 meters east, and was told verbally it was 800 meters east. Out in the country the address can be described as “150 meters west of the lot where they load the sugarcane,” said lot only being used to load sugarcane a couple times a year. People often say, “Call me when you’re close and I’ll come and meet you.”

THE ONION FESTIVAL

Friday, April 24: THE ONION FESTIVAL

I’ve just received news that my shipped goods have arrived and will probably be delivered tomorrow. I’ll spend a couple days, I think, putting things in place but spending the nights back at my hotel – I hate to leave this swimming pool – and then move in on Monday. I’m still amazed at the record timing – I expected to be looking for weeks.

Last weekend I read in the paper about an Onion Festival being held in Santa Ana, a town not far from here, so I decided to check it out. “Not far” is a very relative term. All roads (and buses) go to San Jose, the capital, so any trip in a lateral direction involves one bus to SJ, a taxi ride to another bus station, and another bus to wherever one is going. Took me 3 hours to get there. This included a fairly long delay for road construction. There is no national bus line – every city has its own bus company, sometimes more than one, and they are all painted wonderful though different bright colors, and they all have their own bus stations in the capitol.

Once in Santa Ana, I headed down the street toward the noise and crowds, and found myself in a 2-block long strip of onion booths and food booths. I’ve never seen so many onions in one place. See foto. Making my way down the street I encountered, right in the middle of the crowd, a pair of oxen followed by a colorful cart, typical of Costa Rican folk art. There had apparently been a parade of oxcarts earlier, and this was the last one to be heading home. (I had read on the Festival description that there would be a Parade of “Boyeros” but I couldn’t find the word in my trusty dictionary). I will know the next time, and try to arrive in time to see them. I took a few pictures, tasted a few of the food offerings (they were different looking but remarkably similar in taste to USA “festival food.”) Explored around the town a little, but was anxious about returning home before dark – 6 pm promptly – so I hopped a bus back to San Jose and then another to Grecia. The return trip wasn’t quite so long.

I am getting used to the reality that any excursion out of Grecia, whether it be for shopping or pleasure, will involve a good portion of time in transport, often more than half the day. But since I am, without fail, an “event junkie”, I’ll probably spend a good many Sundays crossing the country to visit local Fiestas.

Is this your passport?

COSTA RICA – THE ADVENTURE



“Excuse me ma’am. Is this your passport?”

It all started rather ominously.
Sat. Mar. 20 to Wed. Mar. 24: After trying three times over a period of five days to get on a standby flight to Atlanta out of Seattle (drugging my poor kitty each time and hauling her off to the airport for a 4-hour stay in her tiny travel carrier), I gave in and bought a ticket to Atlanta. It was for a three-legged flight, United – Delta – Frontier, from Seattle to Portland to Denver to Atlanta. But alas, Sage could not go along because Frontier doesn’t allow animals in-cabin. So she got left behind for later fetching by my sister, Janet.

Thursday, Mar. 25: So far, so good. Got from Seattle to Portland without a hitch. A small accomplishment. However, once in Portland and ready for the next leg, snow in Denver caused me to get rebooked to a 6am flight from Portland to Atlanta on the next day. (the next day was Friday, Mar. 26, exactly 6 days after I had first started trying to get on a Delta flight as a standby passenger.) I decided to just hang out at the airport, too stingy to pay for a hotel room, and besides, I’ve never stayed overnight in an airport before. One more adventure.

I was sitting at one of the gates, killing time and reading, when a young man came up to me and said, “Is this your passport?” !!!!! Sure enough, it had fallen out of my pocket while I was sitting there and he had spotted it on the floor. (This seemed like the omen that counteracted everything else that had been happening all week. Surely I was meant to go to Costa Rica after all.)

At this point, I was thanking all the gods in heaven that I did not have my cat with me.
I found a section of waiting benches that did not have metal armrests between each seat, and by deftly fitting the ripples between each seat into my body curves, I managed to finally get to sleep for about four hours. I was only awakened at 4:30 am by the sound of people walking down the concourse to the first flight of the day. I had counted on that happening since I had to get to my gate by 5:30.

Friday: Arrived in Atlanta, all was well. Stayed only two days – my flight to Costa Rica was booked for Sunday and I had to take it because I had an appointment in Costa Rica on Monday at 9am concerning my residency permit. Then the next glitch came up. Rereading my instructions about the Residency permit, I discovered that I was supposed to make a couple payments for the Residency Permit at a Costa Rican bank, and bring the receipts with me. I figured that would be impossible before 9 am, and months of preparation would be lost. I called my lawyer who was dealing with the papers, he called his sister in Costa Rica, she sent him a fax later in the day saying the banks were open at 7:30 am, so I was saved once again.

After a pleasant flight to San Jose, Costa Rica, I arrived at the place I would be staying in Alajuela (a city close to the airport) and got the message that my residency lawyer had called. V.P. Joe Biden would be in San Jose on Monday morning, all the freeways would be closed off, and I needed to arrive at the Immigration office (which has a bank office) at 7 am to avoid traffic blockages. So, I did that. My lawyer’s sister was actually there at 7:30. She proceeded to take me through the bank lines and three different residency permit lines, and at 10:30 I was finished and had my Cedula de Pensionado. (Retirement permit). This means that I am legally here, not a citizen, and don’t need to leave the country every 90 days (you can turn around and come right back in after 24 hours) as those on tourist visas do. I also get special rates at museums and various tourist locations, usually less than half what the tourists pay. I can apply to be in their medical system, the CAJA, as well and get very inexpensive medical care, and free drugs.

During the first week I was here, I read about a craft fair happening in San Isidro de El General featuring artists (from all over the country) and members of CR’s indigenous tribes demonstrating their crafts as well. San Isidro is a three-hour bus ride ($4) from Alajuela, but I had nothing better to do so I made a hotel reservation and took off. The craft fair was very funky, based on my own experiences with craft fairs – almost nothing above the level of the most uninteresting church bazaars except for some pottery and masks made by some of the indigenous artists. I was disappointed, but hadn’t really expected a whole lot more – it just confirmed what I had suspected about the quality of crafts and the tastes of the Costa Ricans. I did have an interesting chat with the fair organizer. Apparently he takes this event all over the country, and next year it is going to have an “international” theme, and he said he could use some bilingual volunteers. I figure by next near I’ll be pretty competent, if not fluent.

San Isidro, however, was lovely. I began to entertain the notion of living there instead of my initial choice, Grecia. I had a taxi driver drive me around the town for about an hour ($20) and show me the various neighborhoods. I had been in contact with a gringa woman who lived in the area and did some volunteer work with a local indigenous tribe, the Boruca. www.borucacr.org. I imagined myself getting involved with their weaving projects, and doing some wonderful photography of the people and their spectacular and colorful masks. I was unable right then to make contact with this gringa woman, so went back to Alajuela to give it some thought. San Isidro is cheaper and safer than Grecia, being so far from the big city, but I have decided to stick with Grecia for the time being, the main reasons being that being three hours from the airport would be difficult in terms of having visitors, I already have a potential network of friends in Grecia through the people I have already met, and the distance of San Isidro from the capitol, which is where anything of cultural interest happens, would mean that I would probably never go there.

Tues. April 7: So, I am here in Grecia. Landed here on the Monday of Easter week, which is a time when EVERYBODY in Costa Rica takes a vacation, and all municipal offices and most stores are closed from Thursday through Sunday. I have rented a little 2-room apartment (kitchen and bedroom) in the Healthy Day Hotel ($300/mo), just 20 minutes walk from the downtown area, (uphill – good exercise). It has a lovely swimming pool which nobody uses in the morning, so I swim and exercise for about 40 min. after I have had my first cup of coffee. It is quite lovely. Just discovered, now that school is back in session, that the pool is filled with school-children in one-hour shifts from 7 am to 2 pm on Mondays and Fridays. Oh well, I will go for a walk or something instead. Or get up earlier and swim between 6 and 7.

Wed. April 8: My first potential nightmare. I left my debit card in an ATM machine after I had withdrawn enough money to pay for 1 month in advance at my hotel. Went home and paid the bill and went back downtown to withdraw more cash for spending money, and lo! I didn’t have my card. (I had a very vague memory of hearing a little “bing” as I left the little self-contained kiosk and thinking oh they make a little “bing” when you are leaving. Estupido. ) It was too late in the day to call the bank, and everything would be closed on Thurs. and Fri. I only had about $5 in cash on me so I walked back to the hotel, told the woman at the desk what had happened and she just immediately gave me $100 back out of my hotel payment. Much relief!

Got through the holiday weekend, not doing much of anything – reading, swimming, walking, figuring out what I could eat with only a refrigerator and a microwave. I have a stove but it is not yet hooked up to its gas tank, and I don’t have any pans yet anyway. I’ve found several different combinations to wrap up in warmed-up tortillas, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Discovered you can heat tortillas in a toaster as well as a microwave. Just have to watch ‘em. Note bene: Baloney in a warm tortilla is not a good combo.

Mon. April 13: Today I am going to a potluck lunch with 10 gringas who live in the Grecia area, a result of meeting a woman on the CostaRicaLiving yahoo group who lives here and wrote to me and said get in touch as soon as you arrive. My timing for once, just happens to be really good.

Tues. April 14: The potluck lunch was delightful, located in a beautiful house way up high in the hills above Grecia – a view to die for, which is not hard to find in this city located on the slopes of a mountain range. Met some very wonderful people and learned about all kinds of things to do – it would be very easy to find oneself being too busy. Hopefully, I will avoid that.

I have called a driver named Jorge, recommended by my friend Lair, who is a general concierge about town. I will tell him what I am looking for – three bedrooms, cable TV, high-speed internet, a yard, a view, under $400 – and he will start looking for me. Good places to rent never end up being listed anywhere – you have to find them by word of mouth. They tell me it may take 4-6 weeks to find something, and I may have to compromise a little on everything I want, but I am comfortable at the Healthy Day and am willing to wait. Jorge is a delight, and I am told, if I rent an unfurnished place, that he can also find me the best deals on used or cheap furniture. I only shipped a bed, two dressers, a work table and kitchen table and four plastic lawn chairs. He is already taking me to look at a place this afternoon.

Called the bank this morning about my debit card, and they called back about an hour later to say they had it and told me where I can pick it up in San Jose. This will involve a 40-min. bus ride, a taxi to the bank location and then reversing my tracks. I figure it will take about half a day at least. I am much relieved, as it is my only debit card and my only resource for cash withdrawals. I spent the weekend trying to maintain a very zen-like attitude about not worrying about things that were out of my control.

Just called Jorge to confirm our 3:30 appt. and he is in San Jose delivering a “very sick American” to the hospital. Our trip is postponed until tomorrow at 8am.

Wed. April 15: Went to San Jose and got my ATM card back. Not much of a hassle except for having to take one taxi out to the bank office and another back to the bus station to return to Grecia. Spent a little time in the Mercado, where I stopped in for ceviche at my favorite food stand. Also had lunch at the only Lebanese restaurant in the country – ordered Fattush with pollo (a salad with fried pieces of pita bread and chicken with a very lemony dressing), delicious. Will have to look it up on the internet and see if I can get a recipe.