Simple Things I Took For Granted in the U.S.

Some people would say I think too much. That might be true.

Today I've been thinking about how different life is without a few simple things -- luxuries, really -- that I never fully appreciated when they were part of the fabric of my everyday life. Things like...

Bathtubs. In a little more than a week, it will be a full five months since I’ve had a bath. True, I’ve taken lots and lots of deliciously hot showers here in Costa Rica. It is also true that before coming here I was far more likely to choose a quick shower over a long soak in my fancy jetted tub. All that is about to change – at least for the three or four months we’ll be back in Arizona, at any rate.

Comfy Sofas. For reasons I don’t understand, upholstered furniture here is hard. Really hard. While that firmness may be better for one’s musculoskeletal system, it’s impossible to kick back and relax on it.

Touchy-feely Shopping. It's a fact. U.S. gringos have learned the joys of self-service shopping. We like to walk down the aisle and browse at features, color, texture, price, unbothered by helpful employees, because, let's face it, they're usually not even there when you need them. While there are plenty of stores in Costa Rica where you can touch and feel at your own leisure - grocery, clothing and fabric stores, for example - forget that kind of shopping in pharmacies and hardware stores, where the products are typically maintained on shelves behind a service counter. Want aspirin? Just ask. Want #10 wood screws. Just ask. That takes a bit of getting used to.

A local pulperia (corner store)

Broad Product Choices (and at Competitive Prices). Another fact is that U.S. gringos have learned to expect choices. Lots and lots of choices. And truth be told, I'm not sure that touchy-feely shopping is all that important here because product choices are very limited compared to the U.S. About that aspirin? Your choice is probably limited to one or two brands, and it’s likely that the store you’re at may only offer one of them. Same with certain specialty products, like a dehumidifier. We looked for one when our granddaughter was visiting and found only two stores offering them – both in San Jose. The price was twice the cost of what it sells for in the U.S. because, in addition to shipping and import duties, which can add from 30% to 75% to the price of imported goods, they simply don't sell as many here. And here, like anywhere else, sales volume has a direct correlation to price.

The ferretería (hardware store) we pass on the way to el centro.

Big Box Stores. The simple truth is I miss Costco, Home Depot, Lowes -- and even Walmart. 'nough said.


I could go on, but the point is clear. I have no choice but to plead guilty to taking for granted many basic elements of life in the U.S. -- elements that I now know are not widespread beyond our borders. Fortunately, it's only a matter of time before the new ways will become second-nature and the old will seem as foreign as these things feel right now.

For the short term, though, I'm focused on my homecoming plan. Right after a long, leisurely bath, I plan to stretch out on the sofa while I watch the 10 o'clock news. Then in the morning, I’ll be off to Costco, Home Depot, Lowes -- and dare I say it? -- Walmart!

Pura Vida

Wrapping Up Lose Ends

Winged Visitors

We've started hanging plaintains on the clothesline on our balcony for the birds & butterflies and have been rewarded with some amazing visitors.




While the blue-grey tanagers are a bit skittish and rarely pose for pictures, the moths and butterflies are quite the opposite. When they find a good food source, they settle in and sometimes stay for hours - oblivious to camera flashes and movement around them.



The wings on the Caligo (owl) eurilochus butterfly below measure a good 4" from top to bottom and has a wingspan that approaches 7"!

Clearly, they must love plantains almost as much as I do!





Farewells at the Feria



Today we made our last trip to the feria before we leave for the States. As we made our rounds, we said goodbye to the vendors who have come to think of us part of their regular Saturday morning clientèle.

There's the college student who, along with her mother & brother, sells chicken. She studies English in Alajuela and next year plans to start at the university. She knows our order by heart - 1 kilo of bonless skinless chicken breassts. Today we surprised her by taking home a whole chicken. It is hot soup weather, after all!

Then there is the young married couple from whom we usually buy papaya and a few vegetables. On this particular morning, he was at his post in the produce booth, while she offered some of her homemade pastries in another. She told us today that they lived in New Jersey for about 10 years. "The U.S. is nice, but our country is our country," she explained with an apologetic shrug. We bought a pineapple braid from her and promised to get with them when we return so that her husband and mi esponso can share stories about fishing off the coast of New Jersey.

Last, but far from least, there's the butcher from whom we buy our beef products. He wears a hook prosthesis on one arm - we presume the result of an unfortunate meat-cutting accident. His son works in the business with him. Neither of them speak a lick of English, but they both seem to look forward to seeing us each week, always greeting us with a big smile and warm welcome. When we told him we were leaving for a few months, he tossed a package of spicy chorizo in with our order and said, "de la feria." As always, he also dropped two small bags of homemade candy into to the bag, as well.

We'll miss our Saturday morning routine while we're away. We'll miss the papaya and pinaapple and plantains. But we'll also miss the people who have welcomed us into their community and made us feel right at home.

Patron Saint Fiesta



This is also the weekend during which Palmares celebrates its patron saint with a street fair. Actually, the fiesta opened last Sunday, but the activities will kick into high-gear today.




Yesterday we ate lunch (a delicious gallo de picodillo) in the church social hall. Today we're headed back to try the lomo relleno (stuffed pork loin), which one of the volunteers was proud to show us while we were there. Full from our picodillo, we promised to return to try it luego.



This promises to be a busy, but fun week. We decided this morning to take one more trip to San Jose before heading home. Then there is one more doctor's visit to review the results of our routine bloodwork, prescriptions to fill, about a dozen little errands to run, and, of course, friends to say goodbye to. With luck, there will also be time for at least one more message from Costa Rica.

Pura Vida

The Flip Side of the Coin

As we prepare to leave Costa Rica for a few months to arrange for a long-term relocation to this beautiful country, it occurs to me that this would be a good time to introduce a little counter-balance to the glowing praise we have so generously dished out.

Over the past months, I have formed the opinion that the only thing backward about Costa Rica is the infrastructure. Certainly the people are anything but backwards!

For the most part, Ticos are well-educated, with a 95.9% literacy rate. They benefit from a constitution that affords them freedoms and protections very similar to those we enjoy in the U.S. And they understand those rights – especially as they pertain to employment, healthcare, land ownership, and renter/landlord relationships. They understand and utilize as many of the current high-tech gadgets they can afford. Some own luxury appliances like dishwashers and refrigerators with ice-machines.

They understand the importance of learning English. Many high-school students enroll in multi-lingual studies. Parents want their little ones to learn English early. Grade-school children show off their fledgling English skills as we pass them on the street or in the grocery store or at the feria. Adults enroll in English classes. And almost everyone who speaks even a little English clutches every opportunity to practice!

Ticos also recognize the opportunities that tourism presents to them personally and to the country's economy. I've probably met more people enrolled in tourism programs at the University of Costa Rica than any other course of study.

Costa Ricans are not a backward people, for sure. The infrastructure is quite another matter.

I have spoken lightly of pot holes and crumbling sidewalks. These are, indeed, a problem both for safety and continued economic progress.

As in the States, bridges are aging and in a mountainous country, riddled with deep gorges that carry the runoff from tropical rains to the ocean, bridge failures can be both tragic and economically problematic. Modern services like city water, electricity, and Internet waft on and off seemingly at will. At home, keeping candles and a few gallons of water on hand can get one through the outages easily enough, but I can only imagine the challenges that businesses face – especially small businesses.



The battle of the bugs must be fought every single day. I know that spiders are not technically “bugs” but to me if it’s creepy and crawly it bugs me! So I’ll lump them all together for purposes of this discussion.

In case you didn't already know it, let me tell you... spiders are very industrious creatures. Webs form just about everywhere over night. I try to maintain a live and let live attitude, reminding myself that they make dinner out of the other creepy crawlies. But if they cross my threshold, they’re gonners! And I’ve killed my fair share.

Ants are a bigger problem. Not just because they don’t respect the three-second rule (you know, the one that says that if a cookie hits the floor and is retrieved in 3 second, it’s not really dirty ;)

Seriously, every crumb, drip or splash has to be cleaned up immediately, because failure to do so will result in a near-instantaneous convergence of armies of several different species of ants. And these guys bite!

As it turns out, I have a sensitivity to one or more of the ant species that share our apartment. And, it also turns out, that some of the bites I had attributed to mosquitoes and/or spiders were in fact from ants. I saw the proof with my own eyes yesterday. Today I have 2-inch welts around tiny red scabs where they took their bites.

On a more serious note, crime is a real and growing problem. Yesterday, President Obama included Costa Rica in the black list of countries with a serious drug trafficking problem. Almost daily, I read reports and complaints from expats; some are just plain worried, other downright afraid, some have become victims of burglaries at one time or another. Every once in a while the papers carry stories about foreigners who have been murdered. Most of the offenses are drug related.

Like in the U.S., anyone here can become a victim of crime. Here, like there, few places remain where one can walk down the street at night without keeping a watchful eye out for suspicious activity. And in both countries there are places where a mid-afternoon stroll might be likened to a game of Russian roulette.

So it would seem that the old real estate adage – location, location, location – is as important here as it is back in the States.

While towns like Palmares, Zarcero, and Sarchi are not immune from crime, falling victim of anything more than petty theft in one of these towns would be a rare exception. By contrast, gringos who choose to live in the capital city of San Jose or in beach communities or in upscale, gates gringo enclaves face very real safety issues on a daily basis.

Presidenta Laura Chinchilla appears to be taking the problem seriously. It remains to be seen, however, if she can mobilize the rest of the government to enact solutions.


So why choose to live here, many would surely ask? Good question. One that I have asked myself dozens of time. Perhaps the answer is because we can.

We can live here because we have the willingness to live with spiders, ants and other annoying creatures.

We can live here because we can prepare ourselves for those times when modern conveniences fail.

We can live here because we don’t mind (and actually prefer) using public transportation, relieving us of the stress of driving with crazy drivers on insane roads.

We can live here because we have the Internet (most of the time) and can maintain contact with the people we love at home.

We can live here because we can live in a small, quiet, relatively safe town with Tico neighbors who have welcomed us as part of their community -- neighbors who keep a watchful eye for us and do their part to ensure our safety and happiness.

We can live here because here we -- like everyone else, no matter how rich or poor -- have access to good medical care...unlike in the United States.

And most importantly, we want to live here because we have the psychological makeup that makes us love how the experience has opened our eyes and our hearts to new people and experiences.

Pura Vida

Independence Day Celebration

For nearly 300 years, the countries that now comprise Central America were Spanish colonies. To the frustration of the Conquistadors who occupied the region, the people of Costa Rica proved unwilling subjects. While the indigenous people of Costa Rica suffered great losses both in battle and from diseases brought by their invaders, the roots of pacifism run deep in these proud people, who often simply retreated into the forest rather than become slaves.

In 1821, Costa Rica was part of the Kingdom of Guatemala, along with Nicaragua and the rest of Central America. On September 15th of that year, Spain relinquished its hold on the region and granted the entire kingdom independence. Without roads connecting the colonies, the government in Guatemala dispatched runners with torches to carry the news to the outlying regions. It took a full month for the runners to traverse the dense terrain and finally reach Cartago, the territorial capital of Costa Rica at the time.

Ironically, although the country's independence is roundly celebrated these days, the news was met with little more than a shrug back in 1821, primarily because Costa Ricans never accepted subugation in the first place!

Now, almost two hundred years later, the country’s independence is celebrated with a re-enactment of the events of 1821. Torch runners set off from Guatemala for Costa Rica and the other Central Americans countries who share the same Independence Day. As the torch runners reach critical road junctions, they are met by other runners, whose torches are lit by flames carried from the original torch. And so it continues until every school in every canton of every province has received a torch runner honoring the country’s independence. The first runner dispatched from Guatemala to Costa Rica will continue his journey until he reaches Cartago, where the torch will be received by Presidenta Laura Chinchilla.

Concurrent to the torch running that commemorates the 1821 dispatch, the celebration gets an early kick-off with concerts in the park and lots of flag waving.

We stumbled upon our first encounter with one of these concerts this past week when we crossed through the park en route to the bank. The picture above is of a high-school (collegio) girl singing on the bandstand in the center of Parque Central. What a joy she was to hear - certainly would be a contender on the Costa Rican versions of America's Got Talent or American Idol! With many errands yet to be run, we couldn't linger to watch the performances that followed, but we did get a snapshot of these girls waiting their turn to perform.



On the eve of Independence Day, Ticos will gather in the park to sing the country’s national anthem. Then early on September 15h (we’ve heard that it starts at 5:30 a.m.!), school children, dressed in traditional garb and carrying Costa Rica’s tri-color flag will parade through town, accompanied by marching bands.

[As I write this post, the high school band can be heard rehearsing for the event right across the street from our apartment.]

This year will be our first opportunity to witness and take part in the celebration. One thing we have learned in our nearly five months in Costa Rica, is that Ticos know how to throw a good party. Expect more reports as the festivities unfold.


Pura Vida

Bimbo Bread

I'm thinking the Bimbo Bread people have the whole thing figured out pretty accurately.

To be sure, Bimbo Bread is clearly a staple here in Costa Rica. And they are major sponsors of the all-important fútbol team - a fact that no doubt earns the company extra points in every Tico heart.

I read about Bimbo Bread online a while back. An expat was asking where to buy good bread -- not Bimbo Bread, he emphasized. I naively assumed he intentionally chose his words to communicate his opinion that "smart folks" don't willingly buy pasty white bread.

Imagine our surprise to learn upon arrival that the biggest bread company in the country markets "Bimbo" brand bread products. According to Wikipedia, Grupo Bimbo "biggest Mexican food corporation and the largest bakery in the world[2] with brands in Latin America, Europe, China, United States, Canada and Puerto Rico." Apparently, its holdings include Entenman's and Thomas, as well as other products we know and love back in the States.

Maybe so, but apparently our food preferences comprise a small minority here. Bimbo doesn't seem to offer a true whole grain bread in the Costa Rica supermarkets, leaving us to find alternatives to the Costa Rica version of Wonder Bread - and the brown version bread makers would like us to believe is super nutritious.

Corn tortillas are made from whole corn that has been soaked in lime to soften the hull before before being ground into masa. This makes it a healthy choice that has to rank right up there with loaf bread made from freshly ground wheat berries. While corn tortillas offer the added benefit of being an excellent source of calcium thanks to the lime soak, they leave a lot to be desired when building a tuna salad sandwich!

Wheat tortillas provide a functional, if not gastronomically perfect, substitute when used as a roll up. But where's the fiber?!?!

And of course, there are the loaves of crusty, long, white bread from the panadería, (bakery). While they definitely have more tooth than Bimbo Bread and make a good sandwich, they still fall short in the nutrition department.

For months we've dealt with the problem by trying to teach ours taste buds to expect something other than a sandwich at lunch, while secretly lusting after an occasional slice of chewy, homemade, whole grain bread! To that end, it would seem that we will have to bring along our grain mill and hope to locate a source for wheat berries.

Failing that? All I can say with certainty is that if we can adjust to a new culture and learn a new language, live every day without the close companionship of our friends and family at home, we surely can learn to live without a routine diet of American-style sandwiches. That and a vow to continue to give pasty white bread a wide berth in the supermarket.

Pura Vida

Pura Vida! The Real Treasure of Costa Rica

I saw a reference to an article in the AARP magazine about great places to retire. Atenas, a nearby town here in Costa Rica, was included so I decided to check out the article online. Here’s the link in case you’d like to read it yourself.

http://www.aarp.org/home-garden/livable-communities/info-07-2010/best-places-retire-costa-rica-central-valley.html

(Sorry I can't give you an active link. I'm sure it's a user error deficiency and not the fault of Blogger.)

I, for one, came away with mixed feelings.

Atenas is, indeed, a lovely little town. And I know a number of expats who love living there. What bothered me about the article was the implication that life in Costa Rica is a walk in the park. All sunshine, great hospitals, shopping and unparalleled biodiversity.

Anyone who has read more than one of my blog posts knows by now how much we love Costa Rica. But life here takes effort – which, if we are to be perfectly honest, is one of its attractions for us.

To paraphrase what another expat said recently, even the well-heeled gringos who come to live here eventually have to drive on pot-hole pocked roads – or in our case, negotiate sidewalks that are so seriously undermined by erosion that they promise to break into pieces without warning – and sometimes do! And whether you drive or walk you have to deal with some of the worst drivers on the planet!

I could go on, but previous posts have covered many of the challenges expats and Tico nationals, alike, face living in a developing country.

My point here is that, for the sake of making a buck, the media often portrays retirement life, whether it’s in a U.S. “active retirement community” or in a foreign country, as easy, glamorous, and idyllic by telling only half the story.
It truly is a shame, in my opinion, because Costa Rica is a rich, complex nation, as measured in ways that matter far more than the great deal you can get on real estate (not so great as a few years ago, by the way) or whether you can hire a housekeeper for a song (not actually true and the employment laws will devour you if you fail to do it the right way).

I’m talking about the people, who value family, friendship, education, health, peace, each other, and Pura Vida above all else.

For sure, the country has its problems. As mentioned above, the infrastructure, education system, law enforcement… you name it… it all needs more attention than the available colones will support. Earthquakes shake things up with surprising regularity. Floods chase families from their homes.

But when you turn on the morning news (or watch it in a soda now and then the way we do), you see a sign language translator in a little box at the bottom of the screen. When I was waiting to see a doctor at the local clinic the other day, a nurse came out and gave instructions on breast self-exams to the women waiting with me. The bus driver on our route stopped yesterday to give mi esposo a ride up the last 300 feet of steep grade – at no charge – just to be nice.

The real treasure of Costa Rica is that it oozes an enlightenment that is too often lacking in more developed nations. It is this I wish that the media would spend a little more time selling.

Maybe, as a result, fewer people would leave after a short time, disillusioned that they failed to find paradise, when in fact they failed to recognize it when they saw it.

Pura Vida

Adventure in Paradise

After a very extra busy few weeks, we're back to report on a fabulous visit from some of our kids. One daughter and granddaughter stayed with us for a full week before the rest of the gang, their significant others, and another grandson arrived. The trip was a combination reunion, birthday and graduation celebration, and most of it was spent on Isla Damas, near Quepos. But while they were with us, our little apartment (and an adjacent one loaned to us by our wonderful Ms. M.) turned into Fiesta Central!

Aside from the sheer joy of seeing the kids -- and having them visit us on our "new turf" -- the highlight the trip was a stay at Lands of Love Resort. The property is located about half-way between San Ramon and La Fortuna, on the way to Volcan Arenal, making it a great place to stay while exploring the region. And I can tell you that we fell in love with it the moment we turned off the main road and began our descent to the hotel.

The property is beyond incredible. The view from our very comfortable and beautifully appointed room left us awestruck.



But what really sealed the deal for us was the attention to detail, like handpainted accents on the bed linens and placemats, and the personal attention we received from the staff.



Our granddaughter suffers from life-threatening allergies to milk and peanuts - and, to a lesser degree, eggs. So you can imagine how scarry it was for her mom to bring her to a country where the food is very different from the U.S. and where the language barrier might present extra risks. Lands in Love, a vegetarian resort, turned out to be the perfect destination for Emily.

When we explained her food restrictions, the chef came to our table and spent an incredible amount of time discussing menu options with our daughter.



Then each and every one of her meals at the resort was prepared especially for her, keeping her special needs in mind. The chef even prepared delicious bread, containing no milk or eggs, that tasted fabulous and were perfectly safe for Emily to eat.



While we were there, we ratcheted up our courage and signed up for some adventure tours: a breathtaking zip line, a canopy tour that includes a Tarzan swing, and canyoning (or as I would call it, repelling into a waterfall). Never in my life did I expect to willingly jump off a perfectly good bridge - but I did it. And so did Emily, her mother, and Grandpa. What a thrill.

Next time we go to the resort, the kids want to add horseback riding and whitewater rafting to the itinerary and I want to save some time for a guided birdwatching tour. Even though we sighted some pretty cool ones -- including a small flock of toucans -- on this trip, I'd really like to see how much more we would see with an expert.

It was sad to see everyone off this past weekend. Yet it felt good to get back to our routine. What felt really, really good, though, was realizing that we actually have a routine to get back to -- and after only four short months here!

Pura Vida

C-Day - Putting Costa Rica's National Healthcare System To The Test

Today was C-Day. "C" - for Caja, that is. The day we got down to the business of test-driving the Costa Rican national healthcare delivery system. We approached the day with more than a little trepidation.

We’d heard the horror stories about long waits to get an appointment (and sometimes getting turned away with getting one!), followed by long waits to see the doctor even with an appointment, followed by long waits to get prescriptions filled. We also had language concerns. How on earth would we ensure that we received the right care if we couldn’t communicate with our doctor?

That was then. This is now. And now we know we could have saved ourselves a lot of worry – thanks to the help of our Tico friend and a system that turned out to have a bigger bark than bite. Here’s how it went down.

2:45 a.m. – Forced ourselves out of bed. Drank a quick cup of coffee and downed a piece of breakfast bread. Dressed quickly. Met our friend at the gate at precisely 3:30 a.m.

3:35 a.m. – Took our place in line at the Caja clinic behind eight other souls who had awakened even earlier. Chatted between ourselves and gave thanks that we had our friend there to instruct us about where to stand and explain what was happening around us.

5:00 a.m. The rising sun provided enough light that I was able to read a few chapters of The Divinci Code while we waited.

5:40 a.m. Our friend’s father arrived and took his place in the Golden Citizens line ahead of us, nearer to the door. Because mi esposo is over sixty-five, we can do the same thing for our next appointment. This time around, even that advantage couldn’t pry us from the side our amigo.

6:00 a.m. The doors opened and the line began to move to the inside. One by one, each person stepped to a window, presented his/her Caja ID (carnet), orden patronal (a document that remains a mystery to me), and Costa Rican ID card (cedula). Once their paperwork was verified, they could chose an appointment time. Our friend proceeded to the window ahead of us and chose an 8:00 a.m. appointment. When it was our turn, we followed suit and received two tickets: one for our appointment and one for our pre-consultation (file-opening process).

6:20 a.m. Parted company with our friend. He returned home to get a shower and pick up his wife, for whom he had also made an appointment. (The way it works is that each person in line can make an appointment for him/herself and/or one other family member. Lucky her, she got to sleep in while her loving and generous husband waited in line!) We headed toward the bus stop to have breakfast at our favorite soda.

7:35 a.m. Arrived at Caja and sat down to wait for our friend and his wife to join us.

7:40 a.m. An English-speaking nurse approached us and asked if we had appointments. (Obviously, she very astutely assumed that we were unfamiliar with the process.) We answered in the affirmative, but she asked to see our tickets just to make sure. Then she told us that we should go ahead inside so they could prepare our files. Concerned that our friends would worry when they arrived and didn’t find us waiting, we called them and let them know that we were in the capable hands of a very helpful nurse who promised to help us every step of the way.

7:45 a.m. Entered an exam room where we were weighed, had our height recorded, and our blood pressure taken by one nurse, while another wrote the information on our new charts.

7:55 a.m. We were taken to a waiting area just outside an exam room labeled “Ebais Esquipulas,” where we waited less than two minutes before we heard our names called.

7:57 a.m. Entered a small office where a doctor was seated behind a desk. She answered with an emphatic “No,” when I asked if she spoke English. I showed her my husband’s records and started to explain as best I could that his doctor put him on a new medication right before we left and had instructed that he have a follow-up blood test when we were settled. She flipped through the papers and indicated that we should wait until she came back. I thought she had left to fetch our English-speaking nurse. Not.

8:02 a.m. Doctor returned and explained in Spanish that we would be seeing an English-speaking doctor. As usual, most of the words she spoke remained meaningless to us, but her picking up our charts and walking out the door with them, accompanied by a few hand gestures, effectively conveyed her intent. We waited where instructed until our names were called a second time.

8:05 a.m. Entered another exam room and were greeted by a very nice, young English-speaking doctor. Again, I presented our medical records and this time we were on our way. A few questions. A few answers. The old light in the ears, stethoscope to the chest, and then we got down to business.

Yes, he could provide prescriptions for most of our medications. They could be filled at the pharmacy upstairs. Mi esposo’s blood pressure prescriptions, however, were not on the formulary. We would have to continue filling them at a local pharmacy at our own expense.

Yes, he could write lab orders for all of the tests the private doctor had recommended. He added a couple more of his own.

8:30 a.m. Left the doctor’s exam room with a fistful of paperwork and proceeded to a clerk seated at a desk nearby. She asked us for our fathers’ and mothers’ names and our address in Esquipulas, adding the new information to the chart that had been initiated by the two nurses during our pre-consultation. Then she handed us our prescriptions, lab orders, receipts, and a paper indicating that we should return in one month.

8:35 a.m. Joined up with our friends and proceeded to the pharmacy, where a man seated at a window received our prescriptions, compared the names with our carnets, and instructed us to return in 90 minutes to pick them up.

10:00 a.m. Returned to pharmacy.

10:05 a.m. Picked up prescriptions and left.

For sure, the hardest part about the whole process was getting out of bed at 2:45 a.m. so that we could be in line as close to 3:30 as possible. Mind you, there was no requirement to do so. But when the clinic opens its doors in the morning, there are a finite number of appointment slots available, based on the number of doctors on duty that day. In our opinion, that little bit of extra sleep would have made for poor comfort if they turned us away before even reaching the appointment window when the slots filled up mid-way down the line.

If you're thinking that waiting in line for more than two hours is a real drudge, you'd be absolutely right. And waiting alone would be even worse. But then a little planning (like bringing a folding sling chair or small stool like one man did, as well as a book with one of those battery-operated book lights) would make a world of difference. As for us? The time passed quickly because we had each other to chat with – something I will try to remember when I am tempted to let mi esposo do the waiting while I catch a few extra ZZZZs at some point in the future.

In the end, our over-riding conclusions revolve around the courteous and helpful staff and the surprising efficiency of the process - not to mention the relief to find English-speaking staff! Granted, being able to pick up the phone and make an appointment would be a welcome improvement, but the arguments against streamlining the system are easily understood.

Any free healthcare system (make that free, aside from an affordable monthly premium that, in most cases is deducted from your paycheck) is ripe for over-use and abuse. Much of that risk has been reduced by simply inserting a degree of inconvenience into the process.

This way, folks who can afford to use a private doctor or clinic usually avoid Caja as much as possible, freeing up those resources for the people who need it the most. Then, when they are faced with an expensive procedure or long-term treatment, they too can crawl out of bed in the middle of the night and take their place in line in front of Caja. Or, they can opt for yet one more alternative. They can avail themselves of the services of a professional line-waiter. Yes, there is such a thing.

Costa Rica is a country with a strong entrepreneurial spirit. And for certain there are always people with more money than patience. This pairing goes a long way to explain why we weren’t the first ones in line at 3:30 in the morning. At least some of the eight people ahead of us had been paid the equivalent of a mere $5 USD to let someone else sleep a little later, enjoy a leisurely cup of fine Costa Rican coffee, and time their arrival at Caja for just before the doors opened at six. It’s a win/win proposition all the way around.

One final caveat: The information included here is based on our experience in the small town of Palmares, Alajuela. One thing we have learned is that generalization simply don’t work in Costa Rica (and perhaps nowhere else, for that matter). The same process might unfold quite differently in any other city or town, which is one more reason we are likely to make this our home for the foreseeable future.

Pura Vida

Right Place, Right Time

It's official. This past Thursday, we became card-carrying temporary residents of Costa Rica.

The process that brought us to this point took close to two years and involved documenting much of our lives in the U.S., paying legal and government fees, working with a Costa Rican attorney who navigated the sea of red tape, and a seemingly interminable wait for the finish line to come into view. So I found it fitting that the process should culminate with an abbreviated chorus of the same song - a little more paperwork, a few more fees, and a little more waiting all under the guidance of our attorney.

When it was over, a short 90 minutes after it began, we each walked out of migracion carrying our very own cedula, the Costa Rican national ID card.

One thing I have learned through this process is that each milestone ushers in a curious mix of elation, satisfaction, and poignancy. And so it was with this one - the biggest since this journey began.

For sure, we are thrilled to have completed the gauntlet. Having our new cedulas means that we no longer have to carry our passports every time we leave home (a personal "Wahoo!" for me, since I rarely have a really safe place to carry mine). It also means we can flash our cards to receive discount admission to national parks and other venues. And because mi esposo is over 65, we were issued "gold card" cedulas that entitle us to go to the front of the line at government agencies - a benefit worth its weight in gold at Caja clinics where waits can be unbearably long.

With it also came another one of those "pinch me" moments when you take a mental step back and try to bring the larger picture into focus. A moment when you say to yourself, "Holy cow! We really did it. We're immigrants living in a new country." A moment when you flip the coin back and forth, rub it between your fingers, and study both sides.

The side from your old life bears a comfortable familiarity and warm patina that is missing from the new side. And in those moments when you are truly honest with yourself, you have to admit that you miss it terribly. But the new side of this coin, impressed in a strange language and unfamiliar symbols, possesses the undeniable allure that comes when you know that you are exactly where you should be at this moment in time.

For us, Costa Rica is the place and this is the time.

Pura Vida

A Day of Ups, Downs, Ooops, Drats, & Whews

After smooth-sailing our way through our doctor's appointment this week, we set off with high expectations this morning on our way to have our blood work done. How naïve! And a real reminder that we have so much to learn.

We arrived at the laboratory at about 7:10 a.m. The sign on the door listed their business hours at 7:00 until 4:00, but the metal security shutters remained locked tight. After killing a little time walking around the block, we returned to find the office open for business.

A man in a white coat greeted us as we approached the counter and handed our doctor's order. In my most polite, friendly voice, I asked "¿Cuanto cuesta?". (In English: How much will this cost?) Without responding, he exited to the back office and held up his index finger when he returned, sans paperwork. A few minutes later a woman appears with a calculator, which she turned in our direction so that we could see the numbers. It read 86,650 colones.

We made a quick calculation, converting the amount to U.S. dollars (approximately $158 of them), thanked her and left. Gosh! Last year I had my well-woman exam done at Clinica Biblica in San Jose for a total of $380 and that included x-rays and the whole works! So our first reaction is that we had just encountered the gringo tax and not knowing what to do about that we approached the problem in true Tico spirit, deciding to deal with it manana. Well, maybe not tomorrow manana... but later, for sure. Tomorrow we have something much more important scheduled -- our immigration appointment.

As with all things Costa Rican, nothing is quite as simple as it might appear. Until yesterday, we believed that we had met every requirement and that all the pieces were in place for this all-important meeting. That was before a call from our attorney's office alerted us to the need to obtain my Caja carnet (national healthcare system ID card) - something we thought was only a priority if I actually wanted to use the system. Huh! More proof of our naïveté after two months on Costa Rica soil.

Here's how it works. We have qualified for temporary residency here solely due to the pensionado status of mi esposo. As far as migracion is concerned, I'm just along for the ride. Furthermore, a new immigration requirement stipulates that all residents, permanent and temporary, are required to join Caja. Hence, we assumed that as long mi esposo has met all of the requirement, e.g. he has a Caja carnet and proof that our premiums are paid up, that we were set for our appointment and could deal with my ID card ... well, whenever. (A little aside here to clarify that the premiums are $40 per month per family, so if he's paid up, I'm paid up.)

So, off we went to navigate the Caja maze once again. This time, though, we knew both our destination and the process since mi esposo had been down this road a few weeks ago.

The first step with any bureaucracy anywhere is to stand in line. It's the rule and has nothing to do with whether anyone is in line in front of you. Fortunately, we're getting quite good at it. And this time, we were in fact the first and only people in the line for the affiliation office at the Caja clinic. After about five minutes we were called into a small office where I proceeded to produce every piece of paper I believed to be required:

Passports (mine and that of mi esposo)
Marriage certificate
Comprobante de Cita, the document that declares that we have been granted temporary residency
Carnet for mi esposo

This was all good, but the nice young woman behind the desk wanted the document containing my Cost Rican social security number.

Oooops. I didn't have one - mainly because we didn't know I needed one!

And drats! This was a really big deal because to us it conjured up visions of us needing to hop on the next bus destined for the Caja office in San Jose.

Finally, whew! That fear was quickly squelched when we picked a few words out of the rapid-fire espanol explanation that indicated this could be obtained right here in Palmares.

Now all we had to do was to find the oficina de Seguro Social. She drew us a map that didn't make much sense to us, but we took it and headed out for the next leg of this marathon scavenger hunt.

We turned right because that's the direction she pointed. Three buildings down ... nothing. Hmmmm. Stopped to ask for directions. No entiendo. Walked a little further. Asked again. Received a personal escort down two blocks, turned right and there it was...a non-descript building with a small sign that read Seguro Social. Again a short wait, even though no one was in line in front of us. It's rule, remember. You always have to wait. But as short as these waits were, I'd be hard pressed to complain!

After more fumbling with papers and the tapping of computer keystrokes, I was handed a paper with a number highlighted in yellow marker. This was my new social security number.

Back at the afiliacion desk at the Caja clinic, we repeated the earlier steps, this time with all of the required documentation. We managed to understand questions like, father's name, mother's maiden name, our address... and then we were done.

On a scale of 1 to 10, I'd rank it somewhere in the 5 or 6 range. And to listen to some gringos who have gone through the process it could have been much, much more difficult, so we are feeling pretty good right now. This is not to say it was painless and without stress. Conducting business in a foreign country, without fluent language skills, and without the breadth of societal knowledge a person gains through osmosis during a lifetime of living in the country, will never be easy or comfortable. But it was manageable. At this stage of the game, we'll take it.

Pura Vida

Health Care the Costa Rica Way

We went to the doctor today. Now of course that's nothing new. In fact, it's something we do way more often that I'd like. But today was different. This was our initial consultation with our new primary care physician. And to understand just how different the medical system works in Costa Rica, one needs to start at the beginning of the story.

First, I have to point out that we are enrolled in Caja, Costa Rica's national healthcare system. So we could have chosen to go to our local clinic for free. That would have taken pretty much the entire day and would have required getting in line at 5:00 or 6:00 a.m. But many people, gringos and Ticos alike, choose to use a private doctor or clinic for routine matters and reserve the inconvenience of Caja for expensive treatments. Thus, our highly anticipated introductory visit with this particular, highly recommended doctor.

One of those recommendations had come over the kitchen table when we were visiting with one of our new English-speaking neighbors, who was born and raised in Palmares. The good doctor was a personal friend and was currently treating her gringo boyfriend, as a matter of fact. I mentioned that another Tico friend of ours had recommended the same doctor as well and that we planned to visit him soon. The next thing I knew, even though it was Saturday afternoon, we were soon talking with the doctor by telephone after a brief introduction from our neighbor.

When I explained that we simply needed some routine bloodwork done to monitor ongoing treatments, he offered to see us at his office at noon on Monday.

Okay... so that felt different. None of the usual checking of the schedule or talking to the scheduler or waiting for a week (or more). Simply, be there on Monday.

Well, as it turned out we arrived a wee bit early. Our plan was to allow ourselves extra time to locate his office (didn't want to be late, for goodness sake!) and then do a little shopping to kill time until our appointment. However, we found ourselves once again being escorted to our destination -- this time by a woman who insisted on staying with us until we made contact with the doctor. So much for that plan.

When we met the doctor we apologized for being early and tried to excuse ourselves util the appointed time. He would have none of it and insisted that we come in and get started right now. This was at 10:45 a.m. We left his office at 12:00 noon.

In the interim we chatted casually with him about how we came to be in Costa Rica, what our plans are, where he was from (Tanzania, though his grandparents were from India), how he came to be practicing medicine in Costa Rica (30 years ago and after practicing in the U.S. for a while) where we had visited while in the country (mostly the Central Valley and Quepos area), where he likes to go (San Carlos - and, by the way, would we like to go there with him some Sunday?), world affairs, politics (yes, we both like Obama), and how great life is in Costa Rica where things are not so frantic as they are in Norte Americana.

Eventually, we got around to medical histories, blood pressure taking and such (and, of course, the the writing of lab orders for the necessary test that had brought us to his office). And when we parted company more than an hour later, we felt confident that our new doctor understood not just the numbers and labels that define our medical conditions, but us -- that politics and current events are hot buttons (and stress triggers) for mi esposo and that I'm more of an it is what it is sort -- traits that readily demonstrate themselves in our blood pressure readings.

On the way out, he promised to call us sometime for that trip to San Carlos and told us to call him if we need anything ("You've got one more friend here now," he added.) Then we stopped at the front desk and paid our 40,000 colones ($80) for the doctor's time.

Oh yes, and about those blood tests... We'll have them done at the local laboratory tomorrow morning and pick up the results the same afternoon. Then we'll give the doctor a call to make an appointment for a follow up consultation -- for which there will be no additional charge.

How refreshing it is to see medicine practiced for the joy and satisfaction of helping people without the pressures imposed by "the system" on our doctors back home.

By the way... the Hypocratic Oath hung front and center on the wall behind his desk. It's been a while since I've seen that.

Pura Vida

Mosquitos 30; Me 2 -- But Things Are Trending in My Favor

It's probably too early to declare victory, but I just might be gaining on those pesky critters that like to munch on my feet, ankles, and arms during the night. In fact, Skintastic has earned it's place as my new best friend. (Sorry, Joan - but you're way up in Maine, leaving me to fend for myself down here.)

So far I've made it through two consecutive nights with no new bites by spritzing Skintastic on all of the exposed skin below my knees and on from my elbows to my wrists. Everything else is covered by jammies. if the results are any indication, I just might have gained the upper hand in this contest.

Wish me luck and an itch-free (& dengue fever & malaria-free) life here in mosquito paradise.


Pura Vida

Legal Odds & Ends - Getting a Costa Rica Drivers License: Day Two

It's done. As of this morning, we are licensed to drive in Costa Rica. Even better, the process turned out to be a lot simpler than we expected.

We boarded the Esquipulas to Palmares bus at 5:38 a.m., switched to the Palmares to San Jose bus less than five minutes before it pulled out, and exited at Hospital Mexico in Uruca about 45 minutes later.

Our instructions told us that the COSEVI building, where MOPT is located, would be right across from the Mercedes dealership - which was right across from the hospital. Well.... not quite. The road to the COSEVI building and the Mercedes dealership is right across the from hospital. The buildings themselves are actually about 3 km up that road - something we learned the way we learn most things in Costa Rica - by asking questions along the way and watching the body language that accompanies the response because we usually don't have a clue as to what the words are telling us.

When we arrived at MOPT at 7:45 we were directed to the last building in the back of the complex, where we found ourselves about 40 people back in the line that had probably started to form more than an hour earlier. The sky had been overcast and a brisk wind had been blowing all morning and right before the doors opened at 8:00 a light rain started to fall -- something that must happen often enough, because thankfully the entire walkway where the line formed was covered by a corrugated metal roof.

After a little more waiting, we were directed to the second floor where we produced our medical certificate from yesterday, our passports, and Arizona drivers licenses. Then our data was entered into a computer and we were given a slip of paper indicating that we each needed to pay 4,000 colones at the Banco de Costa Rica next door. A few minutes later we were back with our BCR receipt in hand and waited in another short line until we were called to have our photos taken and our index fingerprints recorded. At 9:30 we were handed our printed plastic Costa Rica drivers licenses.

My only complaint was that mine bears the worst picture I've ever taken, thanks to the damp breeze that turned my fine hair limp and straight ;( But if that's all I can complain about, given the horror stories we've heard about Tico bureaucracy, I can live with that small embarrassment.


Pura Vida

Legal Odds & Ends - Getting a Costa Rica Drivers License

This week we returned our attention to legal loose ends. It's one of those things that can soooo easily be left on the back burner since it usually entails hours of research to figure out where to go, what documents are needed, and last, but not least, how to get there.

But thanks to some perserverance, we are now one step away from having our Costa Rica drivers license. This is something we could have accomplished during our visit last year, but at that time we would have needed to hire someone to walk us through the process - a cost of around $200 for the two of us. Being frugal folks, we declined and chose to wait until we had the experience and skills necessary to go it alone.

I'm not sure we're really at that stage, but chose yesterday for the day because we needed to make a trip to San Ramon to pick up a package -- and because the 90-day deadline to use our U.S. driver's license to get one in Costa Rica without taking a written test was fast approaching.

Less than a half-hour after leaving our apartment we picked up our package and asked for directions to the MOPT office (9 blocks "that way") and we were off. We weren't really looking for MOPT at that point because we knew that the San Ramon office only issued renewals. For our initial license we will need to make a trip to the Uruca district of San Jose. But we had read that the clinics that provide the official medical exams required to obtain a drivers license line the streets near the MOPT office. So that's where we needed to go. (MOPT, by the way, is the equivalent of our Department of Motor Vehicles.)

We passed up the first clinic in favor of the next one, which looked a bit more welcoming and less third-worldly. Greeted by a woman with a stethoscope around her neck, we took seats at her desk and produced our passports. She entered our vital statistics onto two separate forms and walked us through a medical questionnaire, checked our vision by having us read a series of eight numbers from a chart across the room, asked us our typical blood pressure readings, collected 10,000 colones from each of us, signed the docs and we were on our way -- almost.

Before we could tick this one off our To Do List we needed to find out mi esponsa's blood type. (Mine [O neg] is indelibly etched into my brain, but not so for him, and our forms would not be official and complete without that tiny piece of information.) For this, the stethoscope lady sent us around the corner up the block and around the next corner to a laboratory.

Five minutes and 5,000 colones later we were finished and on our way in search of a new soda (Costa Rican coffee shop) for lunch.

Tomorrow, when we make a trip to San Jose to get our actual license, will not go as well... It's a given.

First, we have to set off at the crack of dawn -- well not actually dawn. Let's say before the fog lifts off the mountain in front of our apartment. In other words, by 6:00 a.m. The bus will surely be crowded at that hour, so hopefully we'll get on early and get a window seat, which is always my preference.

When we get off the bus the real fun will begin... as it always does when we cover new territory. This time, though, we'll hire a cab, which will save time, effort, and emotional energy.

We'll have to complete application forms - in Spanish, of course. Of course, we expect to wait in who knows how many lines, answer questions we don't understand, and in the end hopefully walk out with a little card with our photo on it... and the relief that comes with knowing that if we never let it expire, we'll also never have to take a written or behind-the-wheel driving test. That alone is enough motivation to get me up, dressed, and out the door by 6:00 in the morning -- with my dictionario in hand.

Pura Vida

"Welcome to Costa Rica!"

Today we took a trip to Alajuela to do some shopping. On the way back to the bus stop, I lost my sense of direction and was convinced mi esposa was leading us in the wrong direction. (Of course he turned out to be right, but that's another topic for another day.)

To settle our little dispute, we asked a woman at the intersection we were crossing for directions. She said something we didn't understand, but it seemed that we were supposed to follow her. So we did.

She led us to a little pulperia (corner grocery store) across the street and referred the question to a man inside, who turned out to be her husband. The next thing we knew we are being escorted by the entire family (husband, wife, & two sons - one about 8, the other about 11) the entire four blocks to the bus stop! When we got there the husband turned to us and said, "Welcome to Costa Rica!"

I'm sure this kind of thing might happen in other places. But it would be a rare experience where we come from and reminded us of one of the many reasons we love Costa Rica.

But that's not the end of the story...

Along the way, the older son, who was about the same height as his father, slung his arm over the man's shoulder walked the distance engrossed in happy chatter in a language we couldn't understand. Yet, while their words will forever remain a mystery, the affection and lack of pretense displayed in their body language was crystal clear.

What is even more amazing is that we have witnessed scenes like this one over and over again since arriving in Costa Rica. Public displays of affection are the rule here, not the exception. And they are not just limited to lovers in the park, although there are plenty of those, too!

Families flock to the parks on Sunday simply to spend time together.

Mothers and daughters walk arm in arm.

Sons hug their fathers.

The national greeting is a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

What else would you expect in a culture where the people have such a great love for life and each other?

Pura Vida

Lawn & Garden Tools 101

Don't tell mi esposa, but he's getting a machete for Christmas. Really. You see, he loves to work in the yard and plans on planting a garden when we find a house to rent here. And from what we've seen, it may be the only tool he needs to do the job.

For sure, a Tico would laugh at the glutton of lawn and garden tools that fill our small tool shed at home. There are at least five different shovels, three rakes, a hoe, lopers, pruning sheers, hedge sheers, a tree trimmer and an assortment of hand shovels, hoes, etc. Phooey on that!

Day after day, we watch groundskeepers, homeowners, and even farmers tend to their properties with little more than the handy dandy, all-purpose machete. Apparently it is good for boring a hole in the soil to plan seeds, for tilling the soil between rows of plantings and for trimming bushes, hedgerows, and even trees. We've even seen it used to scalp the scrub grass from the dirt road below our balcony.

The other day our landlord hired a worker to trim a 100-foot row of border hedges that was easily five feet tall. The worker arrived with nothing but his machete and four hours later, the hedge was reduced to a cleanly-cut height of a little more than three feet. No gas. No battery. No power cord. Just a sharp knife and strong arm. Impressive!

In the same vein, we were talking the other day about needing to buy a lawnmower to bring along with us when we return in December. But I've been watching how they do things here and I'm thinking we might be able to forget that idea too. Things are more simple here and folks seem to have figured out that the trusty weed whacker mows down a yard full of grass just as easily as a bulky, maintenance happy power mower.

It does make one ponder how we let something as simple as lawn maintenance get so complicated. So Christmas just might have a few surprises for the man in my life. But I'm not expecting any surprises in return - like seeing him toss the shovels, rakes, and hoes into the garage sale pile. No more than me doing the same with my kitchen gadgets. Some changes will be much slower coming than learning to take the bus and shop at the feria.


Pura Vida

Christmas in July

We have wished many things for our children, but now we have a new one to add to the list: We wish them all the blessing of great friends.

Today we received a wonderful care package in the mail from the best friends a person could every hope to have. And look what was inside: chocolate, Vermont coffee, plastic containers, movies, music CDs, TUNA!, Scotch Brite!, and peppers (the specialty ones we can't get here!), tea towels, EARRINGS to make up for some of what I lost in the stolen bag and.... TP! (guess they were kind of grossed out when we told them we had switched to recycled TP). Thank you, guys! We love you and miss you.

Pura Vida

A Simple Life Can Be Awfully Complicated

This was a day of big accomplishments. First we found the post office. Then we actually rented a PO Box. If you think that's no big deal come on down to Costa Rica for a while and you might leave with a deeper appreciation for how complicated a simpler life can be.

The whole idea of doing so started two weeks ago when we asked a friend if Palmares has a post office (correos). He responded in the affirmative but said he would have to show us where it is because it's hard to find.

You may be asking just how hard can finding the post office be? But, when you consider that in more than one month we've never seen one single street sign -- anywhere in Palmares -- you realize that trying to explain the exact location of anything could get a little hairy. To make matters even more complicated, not only are there no street signs, there are no street numbers -- anywhere!

Instead, addresses are given in relationship to landmarks. For example, a store might have an address that reads: 50 meters south and 25 meters east of central park. Believe it or not, that is useful information to someone who knows the lay of the land. And even newcomers like us can figure some of these things out, but there's a catch. Always there's a catch, right? Sometimes the landmark doesn't exist anymore! It could be a school that was torn down ten years ago, but why change the address? Everybody knows where it is.

So we set out today on a mission to find the Post Office and save our friend the bother of having to show us where it is located, knowing that the address of Central between Calle 6 and Calle 8 that we had found on the Internet wasn't going to help us one bit!

We hiked to town and started asking around. That was our first mistake. If you ask a question in Spanish you'll get an answer in Spanish! So we listen for bits and pieces of words we might recognize and watch the body language. Usually the hand motions will give us a clue that will get us going in the right direction. In this case, we caught "banco" and the hand signal that told us we should turn right. That would put us in front of the Banco de Costa Rica. Good! We were off.

When we reach BCR, there were two people standing in front awaiting their turn at the ATM machine. I approached with my best espanol:
"Pardon. Donde esta la officina de correos?" They chatted between themselves for a few sentences then the man responded in perfect English.

"Palmares doesn't have a post office."
"They don't?" I asked.
"No. We've lived here all our lives and we've never seen a post office. The only post office is in San Jose."

Of course, we knew differently, since our friend had told us there was, indeed, a post office in Palmares. But we also had seen one in Alajuela. So we thanked them politely and continued on.

A block further down the road, we asked a taxi driver, who declared his inability to speak English. He pointed in the direction we were walking and managed two important words in English, "Two blocks."

Onward.

Two blocks later, we found a little blue building with a sign that read, "Correos. Post Office." Eureka.

Once inside, we were greeted by a postal employee who also claimed to speak no English, but managed to convey to us that, yes, there were post office boxes available, but that we would need a copy of mi esposa's passport to rent one.

Off to the libreria. (Remember the book store is really an office supply store and usually also provides copy and fax service, as well.)

Back with the copies, I completed the application with a little tutoring from the postal worker and mi esposa paid 9,550 colones (almost $20), at which point we were told that we could come back tomorrow to pick up the key. Why tomorrow and not today? We didn't ask her, so don't ask me. The answer would have been in espanol anyway. Suffice it to say that this is the way things work in Costa Rica.

The important thing is that we now have a real "American style" address, not just 75 meters west of..., which of course, is the address the mail carrier, taxi driver, electric company, etc., will use to do business with us.

Like I said, a simple life can be awfully complicated.

Pura Vida

Post script:

If you're still wondering why the two locals claimed no knowledge of the little blue officina de correos, the answer is really quite basic. Most people live their entire lives here without ever needing to use the services of the local post office. Consequently they have no idea it even exists.

Recipe for An Almost Perfect Day

Wake to fog after an all-night rain.

Watch skies clear.

Sweat a little by mid-afternoon.

Welcome afternoon thunderstorms that drop the temperature fifteen degrees in a few short minutes.

Jump when lightening strikes a few hundred feet away.

Burn dinner.

Create a delicious new soup recipe with what can be salvaged.

Take a photo of the clearing skies as night falls.



Grab a sweater and share your near-perfect day with people you love who are very far away.


Pura Vida

The Scavenger Hunt! Shopping in Costa Rica

We bought a set of sheets yesterday. In the States, that might not be worth noting, but here – for us – it constitutes a major milestone. Come to think of it, even small purchases like clothes pins and bleach can turn into a scavenger hunt with real challenges.

> Where to find it
> Reading labels that might be written only in Spanish
> Calculating price per unit, usually listed in grams not ounces and always in colones, not U.S. dollars
> Evaluating quality which can vary greatly from the States to Central America
> Identifying products we may have never seen before
> Getting large or heavy purchases home

The list seems endless and often overwhelming.

Luckily, we began this adventure anticipating – and even looking forward to – a serious learning curve. Still at the end of a long day shopping day, I find myself trying to decide which I need more: aspirin or a stiff drink.

In some respects, shopping in Costa Rica has a bit in common with shopping in a small town in rural Arizona, with a preponderance of specialty shops and few big box stores that we tend to frequent in Big City, USA. Still, while a small town here may have a similar concentration of commercial acres in the center of town, the area seems to be shared between a greater number of smaller stores – many carrying very similar products and with large voids in product offerings.

Take refrigerators and pillows for an example. Even in tiny Palmares, there are probably six different stores where you can purchase a new refrigerator and have it delivered before the close of business. They all carry the same brands and models, with price, service and credit terms often influencing the purchase decision.

At the same time, we’ve been searching for decent (not luxurious) bed pillows since we arrived. Perhaps the answer was as simple as Price Smart (the Price Club/Sam’s Club of Costa Rica) or some other big box stores that we have not discovered, but we assumed we would find them in one of the hundreds of independently owned housewares stores that populate every town we’ve visited. Nope. At least not yet. We found flimsy little pillows that will surely crush to nothing in no time at all – at a price we weren’t willing to pay. But after a month of searching, yesterday we settled on two somewhat dense throw pillows that we think will hold up until we return to the States in October. Trust me when I say that we will be stocking up on such things and sending them to Costa Rica in our shipping container.

Want chicken or bread? Head for the meat market or the panaderia. You’ll probably find at least three of each on one block in the center of town. You buy your sausage at the sausage store. Cheese, natilla (sour cream), or eggs? These you can often find at the meat market or supermarket (yes! There are supermarkets, usually small, always slightly more expensive), but you’ll pay less at the feria (weekly farmer’s market). Ditto with fresh produce.



Spices. You can buy little packets or jars at the supermarket, or you can buy them by the gram at the central market.





Books are bought at the libreria, which is more of an office supply store than a book store.

Cell phones and related items – there’s a store for it. Ditto for computers and accessories.

Looking for a new puppy or kitten? Visit the feedstore. While you're there you can buy some chickens or a love bird.




Toys? You’ve guessed it. Palmares has no fewer than ten little toy stores!

Hammer and nails are bought at the ferreteria, or hardware store. While you’re there, ask about clothespins. They may not have them, but if you’re as lucky as we were, the owner will dash down the street and bring you a package from another store, collect your money and, presumably, settle up with the other merchant later.




Prescriptions – head for the farmacia, no prescription necessary except for narcotics.

Aspirin - You’ll find that in the farmacia , but be aware that over-the-counter and prescription drugs are sold on foil sheets sealed in plastic bubbles (probably due to humidity) and are priced by the unit. Want just one? No problem, the pharmacy clerk will cut one bubble off for you. Want the equivalent of a whole bottle of aspirin? Plan on mortgaging the house! So while prescription drugs cost less here than in the States as a general rule, not so with over-the-counter meds. We’ve already added a super-large Kirkland brand bottle to the list of things our daughter will be muling over to us in August.

The farmacia will also offer beauty supplies like lotions and deodorant, as well, but you’ll find better prices at the perfumeria – or sometimes at a store that sells ladies accessories, such as hair brushes, barrettes, jewelry.

But while you’re at the farmacia, you can consult with the pharmacist and save yourself a trip to the doctor, by the way, and even get a flu shot or other routine injection.

And then there is ribbon? There are entire, albeit small, stores that offer every kind of ribbon you can imagine, along with a small smattering of gift wrap.

So there, in a snapshot ,is the world of consumer commerce in Costa Rica. It’s a country filled with small businesses with very specialized focus. As such, customer service plays a serious competitive role in a business’ success or failure. And how do two lone gringos forge a path through the mercantile jungle? With determination, tenacity, and a sheet of very expensive aspirin!

Pura Vida

P.S. In an ocean new "newness" don't be too surprised when you see a Payless Shoe Source in town - along with McDonalds, Burger King, Quiznos, KFC, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut... and all the other fast food places that weren't part of the motivation to move to Costa Rica.

A Day in Paradise

Today was one of the most amazing since we arrived in Costa Rica. After a series of scheduling complications, we finally made it to Zarcero! The tiny mountain town, known internationally for the fabulous topiaries that populate its central park, is the hometown of our very own Ms. M., who escorted us on this trip.

After a tour of the town, its beautiful church (Ms. M.'s brother is the artist who painted the ceiling!), and a light snack of coffee and tamals at a local soda, Ms. M. drove us to the dairy farm owned by her aunt and uncle. I could write for hours about the beautiful setting and the breathtaking panoramas, but the photos will do a far better job.











What can't be captured in photos, however, is the warmth and generosity of Ms. M.'s family. After greeting us with open arms, her uncle led us on a stroll along a concrete path bordered on both sides by an electric fence to the top of the hill behind the cow barn (forgive my obvious lack of dairy farm lingo!). About half-way to the top, we had to yield to about half of the 60-head herd of milking cows headed down the hill to the barn, ready and anxious to be attached to the mechanized milking machines.










Later as we sat at an ancient kitchen table, covered by a worn plastic table cloth, in a room that hadn't been painted in probably twenty years, eating a simple meal of homemade tortillas with a diced potato filling, natilla (sour cream), and a few bread-type pastries and coffee, it was clear that every extra resource this family had at their disposal was directed at keeping the cows safe, healthy and happy. And with that, their tattered home, a large circle of family, the beauty of their surroundings, and the pride that comes from honest work they, too, were happy.



Life just doesn't get much better.

Pura Vida