The sounds of silence

Five O'Clock Frank has left the neighborhood. Yep, the large German shepherd with the big bark and skittish temperament no longer lives across the street from us. And we're elated!

Frank, so dubbed by our family because of the German heritage and a tendency to wake the neighbors at dawn, is actually a female dog named Xina that bellows at everything that comes near—kids, construction workers, other dogs, butterflies, leaves, wind .... nary a morning went by when we didn't wake up to Frank's ruckus. Not yipping, yapping, or woofing, but rather deep, boisterous barking. At one point I heard talk of throwing tainted sausages over Frank's fence (though I won't say who was saying such things!), it got that disruptive.

Last weekend, Frank and his family moved away. Each morning (OK, and afternoon and evening) since has been serene. Tranquil. Peaceful. Ah...now that's what I call a Guten Morgen. Auf Wiedersehen, Frank!

Taking its toll

We were cruising on the autopista on a day trip to Sarchí when we approached a toll booth, and traffic halted. A long stretch of cars and trucks was ahead of us, and we were certain we were in for an interminable wait. We watched street vendors weave between cars, hawking everything from mangoes and bottled water to cowboy hats, sunglasses, and car phone adapters. As we inched our way along, and I fumbled for the 75 colones (about 15 cents) to pay the toll, we wondered aloud how long we’d be caught waiting.

Suddenly, the cars in front of us began to fly ahead. Dan punched the gas, and soon we were sailing through the toll booth, 75 colones still in hand. The money collectors remained in their booths while a handful of policemen animatedly waved us through.

Wow! This was such an unexpected surprise—it was our lucky day! No more waiting, no paying the meager toll, no little slip of amber paper (to promptly shove in the ashtray) indicating we paid our dues—weren’t we special? We later learned that when the waiting traffic line reaches about a kilometer, the government forfeits the toll money and lets drivers pass.

Here in Costa Rica, we’re living on Tico time—the pace of life is slower. Waiting is not seen as an exercise in frustration; punctuality is completely unexpected. Nothing moves at a frenetic pace … except the traffic. Driving in Costa Rica is not for the fainthearted. In a surprising juxtaposition, soft-spoken, kind-hearted, slow-moving Ticos become hurried, maniacal fiends when they get behind the wheel. Perhaps it’s for this reason that they open the tolls when traffic is congested. Tico time does not apply on the pista.

Like a Tico Groundhog Day

Who needs meteorologists when one can rely on las pintas for the yearly forecast? Las pintas (pintar = to paint) refer to the first 12 days of the year in Costa Rica. Each day is said to predict the weather for its corresponding month; for example, yesterday—January 12—was warm and sunny, meaning that December (the twelfth month of the year) will be warm and sunny.

With this newfound knowledge, I—great soothsayer of weather—foresee that 2008 will be sunny, rainy, cloudy, cloudless, calm, and absolutely windy! But the best news? We should be experiencing ideal temperatures for the next twelve months.

Monkey business

A surfer friend of ours, Norbell, has a house on the coast in Guanacaste (in the northwestern part of the country). He recently returned from a stay there, and he and Dan decided to catch up over lunch. As the two walked to Norbell's truck, he pointed to the truck's bed and alerted Dan: "Watch out for the monkey poop."

Now that's something you don't hear everyday.

A beautiful promise

I have set my bow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Genesis 9:13

Everyone knows it’s windy

Give a cheer! The rainy season has ended, and Costa Rica summer (the long-awaited dry season) has officially begun. The onset of more consistently beautiful blue and sun-filled skies also ushers in the windy season—aptly named, because we're experiencing some fierce currents in the valley.

So what’s happening here? The air blowing westward by trade winds loses its moisture as it crosses the mountains, bringing gusts that blow into the valley and dry everything out. We’ve been told that these winds are especially strong in December and January, and sure enough we’ve seen 30mph-plus gales daily since our return to Santa Ana.

Homes here are not built for wintery weather, so we don’t have insulation and storm windows to help shield us during the blustery days. If we keep the windows open, dust settles quickly in the house and things get blown around (yesterday one of our large paintings was tilted precariously on the wall after a particularly strong wind). Yet if we choose to keep the windows closed, we endure lusty whistling and wailing as air blasts through every crack in the house. It’s like living in a haunted house replete with ghostly howling and creaking doors.

Good thing it’s not raining—I’d be scared to open an umbrella out there. Mary Poppins would take off like an F-14!

Coming to America

Happy New Year! After a relatively computer-free two weeks, I’m ready to share the scoop on our first trip back to the United States after moving to Central America.

The flight up was, unfortunately, eventful. As we sat on the runway in San Jose and heard “Is there a doctor on the plane?” we knew the day would be long. The flight crew had to call the paramedics for a passenger in back which caused us to miss our connection in Atlanta. After being in the air from Atlanta for about 30 minutes, we turned around due to “minor electrical problems.” I’m relatively sure things weren’t as minor as they led us to believe, seeing that we circled Atlanta and then saw a plethora of fire engines and ambulances on the runway awaiting our descent.

Anyway, we finally caught yet another flight to Chicago and made it to our hotel (and my parents!) around 10:30. Almost immediately Dan and I headed to the Walgreens nearby to buy knit caps for the girls and plenty of snack food we’ve been missing.

Chicago
The American Girl Place was a jam-packed three floors and incredible. The kids gleefully shopped for Christmas presents, and Lauren even got the new Julie doll from the 1970s. (It’s weird to be old enough to be a historical character!) The AGP café was beautifully decorated—a young girl’s dream restaurant. My dad was so happy to be surrounded by all his girls (and two dolls, too), and Erin and Lauren were in awe of the entire experience.

We did some more shopping, eating (and eating!), and relished walking around a festive Chicago, lit up with Christmas decorations at every turn. And snow! We woke up around six one morning (hard to break that Tico-time habit) and just lay in bed, watching big flakes fall outside our window amidst neighboring skyscrapers.

La Crosse
Speaking of snow…Wisconsin had the fourth highest December snowfall on record—we were thrilled! The girls loved sledding down the hill in my parents’ backyard, especially Lauren, who was out there nearly every day. It was about time my kids discovered what sledding really is about. Lauren set several distance records on the golf course hill and she really flew! She suffered a bad scrape/bruise with swelling on her face from crash in the snow, but she kept going. I went a few times and got some great laughs watching my dad, brother, and husband out there too. They even crossed the golf course at one point and went down the hill on the other side.

One afternoon we went to the Sweet Shop with my parents—an old-fashioned malt shop where everything is homemade. I remember going there as girl with my dad and getting giant caramel suckers and then going to the train station to watch the trains roll in and out. Anyway, the place has been open since 1921 and not much has changed. They sell chocolate-covered cinnamon sticks that are the best. Thankfully they had some in the case the day we went because they sell out very quickly around Christmas, and I had been craving this treat. The man we talked to (who has worked there for 30 years) said they had dipped 14,000 sticks since the beginning of November. You wouldn't believe it in this little bitty shop. So good!

Did I really just write a whole paragraph about the Sweet Shop? I shouldn’t be surprised—my cousin asked Dan and me what we miss most about the US and without hesitation we replied in unison: food.

Marshfield
In Dan’s hometown we spent some nice time with his family (unfortunately missing one of his brothers, but everyone else was there). There was a full house for the delicious Sunday dinner Dan’s mom made—lots of kids, too!

One afternoon we did a little shopping and rode around with Dan’s dad trying desperately to find a pink Favre jersey for me. (My brother-in-law and his girlfriend finally did get one that fits Erin—she loves it and wore it Christmas Day). I’m going to have to order the jersey, but I did get a pink Packers hat and T-shirt for Christmas. Yippee!

Of course we stopped at Taco John’s numerous times on our vacation in both Marshfield and Onalaska (is anyone shocked by this news?) and even brought some home for lunch for Dan’s mom one afternoon.

There was a fantastic snowfall the day after we arrived in Marshfield—a whopping amount, well over a foot. It was so beautiful (though it did knock out the TV reception and we missed watching the Packers game). I volunteered to go outside and dig out the animals in the manger scene on the lawn. It felt great to breathe the winter air and feel a little sting of snow on my legs and face. As much as I’m enjoying the current climate here, I know I’m a northern girl at heart. You can take the girl out of Wisconsin…

Christmas
We were back in La Crosse for Christmas. It was a wonderful, memorable holiday—I saw a lot of family members and got to spend quite a bit of time with my brother and sister-in-law, which really made it even more special. The girls had a super sleepover with their aunt and uncle—pizza at Chuck E Cheese, shopping for a few cherished presents, and staying up too late watching movies.

There is so much else I could blog about our time in La Crosse, but these are probably things more special to me than interesting to anyone else: euchre craziness with Mom and Dad, working on a seemingly impossible puzzle with Dad and my cousin, watching football (and more football!), cooking with my mom, enjoying Friday Night Fish (great Wisconsin tradition), spending Christmas Eve church service with my whole family… it was a wonderful vacation.

Home again
Unfortunately, our flight home was eventful (sounds like the beginning of this blog). We spent eight hours in the Atlanta airport following yet another missed connection. The good news is that we all got first class seats for the four-hour trip back to Costa Rica—first class makes everything so much better, especially on New Year’s Eve. And Lauren got to sit in the cockpit and wear the pilot’s cap!

Finally, we saw lots of fuegos artificiales (fireworks) from the airplane as we descended into CR around 10pm. Dan and I stood in our open doorway on New Year’s Eve (perfect weather!) and saw fireworks in every direction, including directly in front of our house (literally a few feet from our front door). It was a big celebration that lasted for a couple of hours, and as we lay on our bed, exhausted, we enjoyed the soft breeze and listened to the music, parties, and kabooms—and it felt good to be home.

I'll be seeing you

Sorry things have been so quiet in the blog lately; I can guarantee you it's not because we haven't been busy! Early Thursday morning we're leaving for a trip to the United States, and we're very excited. We'll spend a couple of days in Chicago and the rest of our time with family in Wisconsin.

Along with the excitement comes a lot of preparation. Dan and I have both been finalizing things at work. We've finished our Christmas gift orders and getting the teachers' presents. I've headed to school for various concerts, a dinosaur presentation (Lauren), an Iroquois presentation (Erin), and to drop off bags of stuff for toy and food drives.

Today I baked nine dozen cookies to give to our guards, the gardener, teachers, friends, and of course a few for the family. Then I realized it was Tuesday and I still had to make the pizza dough. (Yep, Pizza Tuesday is alive and well!)

Tonight the girls tried on dresses in hopes they'd have something to wear to church in Wisconsin (they do—yippee!) and they begrudgingly tried on a few shirts and jeans too. We discovered that Erin has grown by leaps and bounds since last spring and that we'll be buying her some long-sleeved shirts in Chicago.

Unfortunately I'm also doing loads of laundry tonight. We had no water in the house yesterday and not enough water today to wash. I couldn't tell you why the water problems—sometimes these things just happen here in Costa Rica and the best thing to do it accept it and move on, I've learned. I'm grateful to have water tonight and that I'll only have to fold clothes tomorrow.

Tomorrow...yep, tomorrow I'll finish packing, and the taxi will come to pick us up at sunrise on Thursday. I'm ready for a mental break, and a trip to my childhood home is just what I have in mind.

I'd like to promise a blog or two from our vacation, but I can't say for sure that I'll be sitting down at the computer to journal our time in the United States. I can say that I'll be thinking of all our friends and family that live far from us, and we wish you all a blessed Christmas and a happy, healthy new year. Maybe I'll pop in sooner than later. Until next time—Feliz Navidad!

A rainfall record

Remember my blog entries where I fussed about the weather? I feel so validated—I wasn't imagining the severity of our first (and hopefully worst) wet season in Costa Rica. According to the Instituto Meteorológico Nacional—the national weather service—October 2007 was the rainiest month on record in Costa Rica's history.

I'm actually relieved, because I have hope for a tamer wet season next year.

Saturday, in the park…

We demonstrated our prowess as skilled beachcombers again on Saturday morning. This time Lauren rode Dan's shoulders—the perfect vantage point for spotting sand dollars. We collected more than eighty in all, many of which made it back to Santa Ana unscathed.

We spent most of this relaxing day at the third beach in Manuel Antonio—it was the perfect day for it, the beach was gorgeous, and the water temperature was ideal. Dan and I commented that we truly felt like we were in paradise.

The girls tried out their new snorkel kits, and Dan and Erin did a little snorkeling out by the rocks. They didn’t see as much as they’d have liked because of the waves, so we’re hoping to go to a spot specifically for snorkeling once Lauren gets more proficient at it (she has been practicing in the pool here at home). Erin is a natural.

We saw several animals at the beach, including a raccoon family with four or five adorable babies. They looked like a pack of robbers with their black masks as they scampered around, hoping to forage in an unsuspecting swimmer's backpack. We had hung our things in a tree on the beach slightly over the water, hoping they’d be safer from sly raccoons—but of course we had to keep our eyes out for those sneaky monkeys, too.

After a day in the sand and sun, we went to Mi Lugar (known as Ronny’s Place) for dinner. The food was tasty, the view was outstanding, and—bonus!—they placed all songs from the 80s on the speakers, too. (What more can one want?)

We returned to our bungalow just in time for the sunset. Everyone sat on the porch and we talked, watched the bats fly by, and were visited by a few jumpy frogs, too.

All four of us stayed up a little later that night, not realizing that we’d have company soon. Dan and I both awoke at 11:45 to the loudest, craziest noise—howler monkeys! It’s incredible how ear-splitting a group of rowdy howler monkeys can be. Only Lauren slept through the seemingly endless racket which continued for an hour. The next morning we confirmed with our Costa Rican neighbor that what we heard were monkeys. Oh yes, he nodded knowingly, “los monos” were the source of the ruckus.

Dan and I went for a short walk on the beach alone on Sunday morning. (The kids were too tired—we did it! We completely wore them out!!). We were all a bit sad to pack up and leave the beach, but it was time to get home. After a short drive on the road, we stopped in Jacó for breakfast at a Colombian restaurant and resumed our Sunday drive on a lovely day.

You can click here to see more photos of our trip.

¡Pura Vida!

Monkeying around on the day after Thanksgiving

Read the blog before or after viewing the pictures—you choose. Here's the photo album for day two of our Thanksgiving vacation (I recommend the slideshow).

We woke early on our first full day of vacation—around 6am, which is when we normally get up here in Costa Rica. Everyone’s first thought was to head for the beach to check for creatures in tide pools and shells to take home. We especially wanted to find sand dollars after noticing the large collection of sand dollars the owners of the bungalow had displayed in a bowl on the table.

It took a while, but I found the first sand dollar. Then Dan found one, then both of the girls…it seemed suddenly that they were everywhere and we were the mighty sand dollar hunters, all aiming for the most treasures. Erin found six at once! We walked the beach for two hours and returned to our cabin with a full pail.

After a filling breakfast of eggs, gallo pinto, and empanadas in our little kitchen, we headed south to Manuel Antonio National Park—one of the top destinations for anyone visiting Costa Rica and something we’ve been anxious to see since we first learned we were moving.

On our way we crossed a couple of wild bridges (see the previous blog) that had our hearts pounding. After one bridge crossing we saw a family selling pipas (coconuts) with straws stuck in them.

We also saw a couple of guys—at different times—cruising the highway on bikes and wielding their long-handled machetes. We nicknamed these fellows Grim Reapers on Bicycles.

After passing some great landscape and small villages, we entered the beach town of Quepos and made our way up the hillside into the absolutely gorgeous Manuel Antonio. Dan and I loved this drive, where the windy road is lined with eclectic shops, restaurants, and hotels. A few times we noticed authentic streets signs telling drivers to slow down—each accompanied by a silhouette of a person, dog, sloth, and monkey.

After a few miles we came to the end of the road. Here the sides of the street were lined with cars and vendors on the beach. The road made a loop, and there was a beach at the end and a small tree-, rock-, and mud-filled parking area. Unbelievably, this was the lot for those visiting the park. It was certainly a different experience from visiting a national park in the United States—no maps to purchase, no gift shops, no commercialism. Frankly, we weren’t even sure we were at the park at first.

To get to the park itself, one has to walk across the beach and then can choose either to wade through the Camaronera stream or take a small rowboat to access the rainforest of Manuel Antonio. We weren’t in beachwear, so we took the boat (thankfully one of the guides in the boat kept bailing, since there was a leak). At this point we had also decided to spend the extra money ($20 each) to have a park guide with us. Our guide’s name was Henry—he was a Tico who spoke good English and carried a telescope. Without him and his trusty scope we wouldn’t have seen a lot of what we did.

Incidentally, it is about $7 for a non-resident tourist to enter Manuel Antonio, but for us (we’re now official, card-carrying residents!) it was only about $2 each—a cheap price to visit a park with fantastic beaches, beautiful rainforest, and more than 100 mammal species.

We hadn’t even entered the park when we saw our first monkey in a tree. And once we were in the park—WOW! On this day we saw monkeys, several kinds of lizards, sloths, coatimundis, a kingfisher, bats, giant grasshoppers, even a crocodile! You can see pictures of all these cool animals and plants too (beautiful palms, guava trees, banana leaves, the poisonous manzanillo trees that burn if you touch them, bamboo…) on the online photo album. The pictures truly are worth a thousand words—I can’t do justice to how amazing this experience was.

Of all the animals, the monkeys undoubtedly put on the best show. At one point near the beach we ran across a monkey who had stolen a package of crackers from someone (naughty monkey!). His monkey buddies were chasing him through the trees trying to get a snack, but the cracker monkey did not want to share. When he dropped a cracker and the guy next to me picked it up, the monkey got mad. He was behind Erin and me, and when Dan told us to turn around and we saw this creature baring his teeth, we jumped (but then I got a great picture before I beat a hasty exit!).

Another neat creature we saw was the Jesus Christ lizard, aptly named because he is so fast he can literally run across the water.

How about the howler monkeys? They were probably at least a mile or two away when we heard their bellowing, and wow was it loud!

Unfortunately we did not get to see a toucan on this trip; apparently they are rare to see other than in January and February when they are nesting.

We hiked for about two and half hours until we decided the girls’ legs were wearing out and it was time to get something to eat. We had the most incredible time on our first trip to Manuel Antonio—and still can’t believe we saw all these animals in their natural habits.

For our late lunch/early dinner, we visited a unique restaurant called El Avión (The Plane). The eatery is centered around a Fairchild C-123—an aircraft previously owned by the CIA that played a major role in the scandalous Iran-Contra Affair of the mid-80s. The owners of the restaurant bought the plane in 2000, disassembled it into seven sections, and shipped it to its current location in Quepos on the side of a cliff. Here it has become part of this restaurant with tasty seafood, frequent animal sightings (we saw monkeys and a mama and baby sloth), and breathtaking views of the ocean and rainforest. There is even a small bar inside the plane’s fuselage.

The girls really liked this place—they had straws with cute little paper fruits in their drinks, which was totally cool, they said. The food was excellent and we had fried calamari with a fruity-ginger sauce for an appetizer. Lauren liked it quite a bit and was shocked when I told her calamari is seafood (I didn’t go so far as to tell her it’s squid).

After returning to our bungalow, the girls enjoyed playing on the beach, while Dan and I relaxed and admired the brilliant sunset over the ocean. Everyone fell asleep early again—another busy day was to come.

The bridges of Puntarenas Province

While the country’s major highways are certainly an improvement over the streets we drive in town, they are still a far cry from the interstates of the US. It’s not unusual for buses to stop on the highway to pick someone up at seemingly random points. People walk on the extremely narrow shoulders—sometimes three and four people across, they stray onto the highway itself. Women walk here with babies and children, people ride their bicycles, dirt bikes, and horses right down the road. We’ve seen oxen on the highway, pulling carts—and on this trip we met up with a man walking his cows the wrong way on the highway, directly toward us. It’s just hard to believe, sometimes.

There are often few to no line markings, safety signs, or even shoulders on the highway. But there are frequent potholes, drop-offs without guardrails, and areas where the road has fallen away. One time we saw a part of the highway missing and the only marking was a huge stick poking out of the lane with a rag hanging on it.

So back to our trip…the road from Jacó to Manuel Antonio was undoubtedly the best we have seen in Costa Rica thus far. It was wide, lined, and relatively smooth in most places (where the road was bad, there were signs indicating “carretera en mal estado”—highway in bad shape). Yet it wasn’t the road itself that freaked out three of the four members of our family (Lauren is nearly unflappable), it was the temporary bridges. The "You Have Got to Be Kidding Me, I’m Not Going Over That!!!" bridges.

I sent one picture earlier of the suspension bridge between Puriscal and Orotina. We thought this bridge was a bit extreme. We couldn’t have been more wrong. I now think that bridge is a piece of cake.

Moving on…We approached our first true Bridge of Doom on the south side of Parrita. Rumor has it that this bridge has been under construction for many years. We waited in a line of traffic to cross with no idea what we were in for. As we got closer, we saw big commercial trucks going over. Later it occurred to me that (1) if these huge vehicles could cross, the bridge must be safe, and (2) those huge trucks were just weakening the bridge for the rest of us who had to drive across.

Just before the bridge, there is a sign that says “puente angosto.” This means “narrow bridge,” but I really think the “angosto” is a cognate for “angst.” The Bridge of Angst would be a most appropriate moniker: This incredible feat of engineering was truly a one-lane wonder.


Pictures don’t do the bridge justice, nor do words, but both will have to suffice to describe this seemingly ancient—definitely rickety!—railroad bridge, which has rails placed width-wise to use as the driving surface with planks in place for the tire tracks. The rails were not secured to the support beams beneath, and we could see them shifting under the pressure of the vehicles ahead. In some places the rails were permanently bent toward the water 50 feet below—not exactly reassuring to those traversing the bridge. Click here for photos of the suspension bridge near Orotina and more pictures of the Bridge of Doom in Parrita.

The second bridge is further south, closer to Quepos. This bridge was worse than the first. When we saw the sign “puente en construccion adelante” (bridge under construction ahead) we knew it couldn’t be good.

We crossed these two bridges eight times on this trip, but the most unnerving was the final time as we headed north. The truck in front of us stopped on the bridge and the driver got out. I told Dan that if I heard a clanking noise I was going to lose it. Sure enough, the sound of metal hitting metal rang out; the man was adjusting one of the planks which must have shifted dangerously from the previous vehicle. It was so unbelievable that I exploded with nervous, rather maniacal laughter the entire way across.

Giving thanks in Costa Rica

There wasn’t any snow, nor was there a Macy’s parade, or even Green Bay football for us on our first Thanksgiving here in Central America. The kids had time off from school, and Dan took vacation days from work, so we decided to forgo the turkey with all the fixings and instead set off on a family adventure: a trip down the Pacific coast to the beach and Manuel Antonio National Park.

Here’s a snapshot of the first day of our memorable vacation, accompanied by a small online photo album, best viewed as a slideshow. (Additional entries about this vacation to follow….)

We began our trip by climbing up from the valley and into the mountains. It was a beautiful morning, and the landscape was incredibly lush and green, dotted with tropical flowers and farms. Included in this variety of interesting vegetation were trees we nicknamed ginger trees, as the trunks looked like giant ginger roots.


We passed through few towns, most notably Cuidad Colón and the picturesque Santiago de Puriscal (where we stopped twice to ask directions, as the roads are not named or marked, and maps are nearly non-existent), and then began a trek on twisting trails through some awesome, mountainous country. I should note, the last time we passed through the mountains to the coast we took a different route—one with much more traffic, lots of buses and mammoth trucks, and too many drop-offs (no guard rails!) on skinny roads for my liking. It’s scary driving along a mountain “highway” where part of the road has washed out and a massive tour bus is barreling down the adjacent lane in your direction. The route we took on this trip, recommended by our friend Paul, was remarkably better.

The highway (two-lane, but paved) is narrow, and commercial traffic is prohibited on the route from Puriscal to Orotina, making the trip much more relaxing and enjoyable. Reasons for this became even more evident when, just before reaching Orotina, we came upon a narrow, one-lane suspension bridge. (The bridges we saw on this trip merit their own blog entry, coming soon—stay tuned for more photos that won’t disappoint.)

Once past Orotina, we stopped for a break at the Rio Tárcoles. We’d been here before—an area rumored to have one of the highest concentrations of crocodiles in the world—and knew we’d see plenty of crocs from our safe vantage point on the bridge spanning the river. Dan got some good photos of these and also saw a cow standing near the water’s edge, which he quickly labeled “target.”

From the river, we continued our drive down the coast until we came to Playa Bejuco (Bejuco Beach), between Jacó and Quepos. Here in this beautiful open coastal town we found the quiet little beach bungalow we’d rented for the trip. We unpacked quickly, had lunch at a nearby restaurant (one of the few in the area), and headed to the huge expanse of nearly deserted beach. (It looks ominously dark in the photos, but it was just a little overcast and nearing nightfall. The sun sets around dinnertime in Costa Rica, year-round.) Dan and I especially enjoyed watching the girls play a made-up game of “Drop Zone” on their “own private island” and seeing little crabs working furiously on the beach and popping in and out of their holes in the sand.

We drove into Parrita for dinner at an Italian restaurant where we all had Thanksgiving pie—pizza pie, of course! We met the owner, a friendly Italian fellow, and enjoyed a bit of conversation with him before heading back to our bungalow (Spanish being the common language between us). The girls slept on an air mattress in the kitchen, while Dan and I fell asleep early in the adjoining bedroom. We knew the following day was to bring exciting new experiences for us all.

This Thanksgiving our family has so much to be thankful for, not the least of which is the gift of opportunity to share our lives together on this incredible adventure of living in Costa Rica. We’re grateful for a God that loves us, family at home who we treasure, friends old and new alike, and blessings too numerous to name.

Put a little jelly on the Bimbo

Our most-purchased brand of bread in Costa Rica? Bimbo. All you non-Spanish speakers say it with me: BEEM-bo.

Yep, it’s the most popular sandwich bread around. We see Bimbo ads scrawled across trucks, billboards, even clothing. Erin loves it; she wants a shirt that says Bimbo.

I told her she could get one only if she promises never to wear it in the United States. Girl's gotta keep her reputation, you know.

Getting clean the Tico way

We're ever so grateful for the hot water heater in our home. Plumbed-in hot water, even in bathrooms, is not the norm in Costa Rica. Many Ticos are accustomed to cool, brisk showers in the morning (sure to wake up any sleepyhead!), but those without hot water heaters who long for something more soothing do have an option: the suicide shower.

This scary contraption, rumored to be common throughout much of Latin America, has a well-earned name; it hooks up to the shower head where coils heat the water just before it rains down. Wires are exposed, an electrical current is flowing through them...water and voltage—a potentially lethal combination!

I've heard stories (and I believe them) about people receiving shocks while shampooing or seeing blue flashes from the shower head.

Lest you think I'm enjoying a hearty laugh at your expense, allow me to share some proof. Here are a couple of pictures sent to me, by request, from my expat friends on my Costa Rica Yahoo group:

There you have it: the suicide shower. Talk about invigorating—there's nothing like risking electrocution for hot water in the morning!

A heaping plate of what?

Friday was filled with anticipation for Lauren and her friend Isabel. Thoughout the day the two whispered excitedly about their after-school play date at Isabel’s house.

When we picked Lauren up at 6:30, she told us about her afternoon. She and her friend ran to the playground, made up a game involving a giant boulder and a soccer ball, and dressed up like princesses. Lauren happily relayed that she and her adorable Spanish friend have a lot in common (even their favorite color—yellow) and are the best of friends…but for one thing. Isabel’s family was going to have octopus for supper. “And Isabel LIKES octopus!” said my daughter in disbelief.

Lauren swears she saw Isabel’s mom chop the head off the octopus and that she counted all eight tentacles. “There were like a hundred suction cups!”

A cheer went up from the back seat when I told my little girl our family was having lasagna—not octopus—for dinner. She was saved; we'd picked her up just in the nick of time.

¡Vivan los Empacadores!

Anytime we get the Packers on TV in Costa Rica is a good time—no matter that a game may be broadcast in Spanish, as it was yesterday when we were treated to los Empacadores de Green Bay rivaling los Jefes de Kansas City.

Yep, those are their Spanish names. So funny to hear the Packers called los Empacadores. So unusual to hear names like Brett Favre and Donald Driver thrown in with the all-Español broadcast. So wonderful to hear the announcer exclaim, "¡Que bonita la recepción!" when Favre passed to Jennings in the fourth quarter.

Wondering what your team is known as in the Spanish-speaking world of American football? Here are a few more team names, for fun...

Bengalíes de Cincinnati
Osos de Chicago
Vikingos de Minnesota
Acereros de Pittsburgh
Vaqueros de Dallas
Carneros de San Louis
Gigantes de Nueva York

We've left behind a lot of things we love in the United States to pursue our Costa Rican adventure, but we are very grateful—and admittedly relieved—that we haven't had to miss this so-far glorious season of Green Bay football.

!Pura Fútbol Americano!

Knock, knock, knock…Halloween!

Costa Rica has an abundance of far-out freaky legends to scare the pants off little Ticos. Next to these haunting tales passed down through the ages, our gringo-imported Halloween is just a fabulous candy-fest and the perfect excuse to dress up, now enjoyed here in Costa Rica by families in expat-heavy communities.

Our kids were thrilled to continue their lifelong Halloween tradition—it’s the allure of the sugar, of course.

Last Friday we went to Halloween Family Night at school (remember, it’s an American school), to enjoy trick-or-treating, games, and pizza. For many of the CDS kids, this was their first experience with Halloween. This was the case for our neighbors from Argentina, whose children were tickled to don costumes and get sacks of candy just for being cute.

The middle school kids decorated all the classroom doors, and the elementary students—under the guise of witches, princesses, cowboys, and skeletons—wandered the darkened school grounds to collect their goodies. The older kids were very creative with their door decorating and their own costumes, and we saw some teachers dressed up too. Everyone’s favorite principal, Mr. Large, even made an appearance as Shrek.

Once our girls secured their loot, we decided not to wait in the big line for pizza and instead went to our favorite pizza place, La Fabbrica. It was a gorgeous night and we sat in the open-air restaurant and noshed on great food, saw a few other familiar faces from school, and had some good family time together. I’m sure the wait staff wondered why Dan and I showed up for dinner at their restaurant with a world-class surgeon in scrubs and a rambunctious little puppy with floppy brown ears.

Fast forward to Wednesday, a rainy Halloween night! A Tica in our neighborhood passed out flyers to see who wanted to participate in Halloween, and of course we accepted. We hung black and orange balloons outside the house to let everyone know we were open for business. Then while Dan handed out candy, I took the girls from door to door.

After our first house, we met up with another family. As our children approached the next door together, mine called out “trick-or-treat!” while the others shouted out “Halloween!” Whaaaa? What was this? I looked at the other mom and she explained that nobody understands what “trick-or-treat” means, so the little Tico kids just call out “Halloween!”

I had to hold back the laughter, it was so funny. The more I heard these kids yelling “Halloween!” at the doors, the more amused I was. I also had to suppress giggles when one mom commented on what a shame it was to be so cold on Halloween (the temp was about 65 degrees). I told her I’ve seen snow on Halloween, and she was in disbelief. I’m learning that a lot of people I meet here really have no concept of snow and how cold “cold” truly is. But hey, if 65 degrees is cold on Halloween, my family can brave the weather.

We didn’t have as many houses to visit as usual—and the girls didn’t do their “speed trick-or-treating” in a big subdivision with Dan this year, as is tradition—but the kids were very happy with their haul. To their delight, Costa Ricans are more than generous with the amount and type of candy they hand out.

After the trick-or-treating we met up with several other families in our community clubhouse for pizza (yes, more pizza—people love pizza here, I’m telling you). The kids ran around and played games and ate too much candy and too much pizza, while Dan and I had a chance to talk with our neighbors and get a late supper. We were the only Americans there, I might add—kind of funny considering it was a Halloween celebration—but we had a chance to practice our Spanish (always a challenge when I’m talking to the Argentineans!) and find out what’s going on in the neighborhood.

The girls were excited to call Grandma and Grandpa when we got home and tell them about their night. My poor little Lauren puppy’s eyes were drooping as I prompted her to say goodnight and hand me the phone.

On a final note, there was serious bartering going on in our kitchen last night, as Dan was trading gum suckers with the kids for candy he wanted from their stash. Let me tell you, the three of them are some tough customers, and all of Dan’s Halloween candy was hard-earned through real negotiations. I think if it were acceptable for a 6’3” kid to travel from house to house in costume, Dan would do it solely for the chocolate and Skittles.

Young citizens of the world

In a blaze of colorful costumes, the kids of Country Day School participated in an exciting and moving celebration of United Nations Day on Friday. The event, held in the CDS gymnasium, began with a parade of nations reminiscent of those held at the opening ceremonies of the Olympics.

The kids—from a whopping 45 countries!—were allowed to wear native costumes to school representing their home nations. To start the ceremony, the children lined up in the corridors, eagerly awaiting their turn to enter the gym. As Mr. Large, the principal, announced each country, children (sometimes many, sometimes just one) marched in to that country’s music while bearing the flag of their nation. There was great applause for all of the kids, with Costa Rica prompting an explosive cheer from everyone.

It was so touching to see these proud little kids joining together to celebrate their patriotism, our world, and the unity of their own student body. I got teary-eyed when the United States was announced and I saw my two smiling daughters proudly entering the gym in their homemade "USA" shirts and red, white, and blue ponytail holders.

Some of the kids' costumes were breathtaking: the little Korean children in beautiful native clothing, the Spanish girls in their cheery flamenco dresses, the throng of Mexican amigos with sombreros and serapes, the Ticas in their billowy skirts and blouses, and the charming little French boy with the beret and a loaf of bread in his sack.

Once the parade was done, the kids sang a song together about friendship, and then a group of students from each grade took turns performing. Lauren’s class did a song and dance from Israel, while Erin’s class performed a traditional African dance. Halfway through the dance, three of the African parents (also in native dress) joined the kids (who were floundering a bit), and the place was electrified—parents, teachers, and kids were cheering and clapping.

Finally, the American teachers danced to a High School Musical song in representation of the United States—they were surprisingly talented and hip! You can imagine the hoots and hollers from the kids as they watched several of their teachers getting their groove on. I’ve gotta admit, I was impressed.

I tried to get some good photos, but the lighting made it difficult and there was so much movement—but you can see some of what was going on in this web album (again, I recommend viewing it as a slideshow).

This is by far one of the most unique, inspiring things I’ve ever seen at an elementary school, and it will be a very special memory for us all.

Irazú, I see you!

On Tuesday, Erin’s class took a field trip to Irazú Volcano (Volcán Irazú), and I was able to snag a seat on their bus and tag along. Irazú is one of several volcanoes in this small country and lies in the Cordillera Central, close to the city of Cartago (the former capital of Costa Rica). It is protected in a national park.

We began our trip at the school in Escazú and traveled through San José, San Pedro, Curridabat, and then Cartago.

At a junction near the agricultural town of Cot, we saw a statue of Jesus with his arms outstretched; here, Christ is said to be embracing the entire valley. We turned left here and began our trip up the mountain.

(Incidentally, the trip up was just as you’d expect with a busload of fourth graders. They were a musical bunch, and I heard familiar tunes in English and some new-to-me “bus songs” in Spanish too.)

On our way up the southern slope of the volcano we saw many onion, potato, and cabbage farms. The fertile soil here from previous years of volcanic activity makes this area good farmland. We also saw many small dairy farms. Erin and I shared a private laugh as we passed one farm and could smell the cows—and most of the kids erupted with “Ewwww!” Erin just looked at me with a grin and said, “Mom, I’ve been to Wisconsin so many times I didn’t even think anything of it.” That’s my girl!!

The trip up was very slow (think big bus, steep drive!), but thankfully there were no sheer drop-offs (especially because I had a window seat on the “edge” side of the mountain!). We saw some great Tico villages with houses in a variety of bright hues.

We also had to put on our jackets as we climbed the volcano because the temperature dropped significantly, which I really enjoyed. I must admit I also got a kick out of the Costa Rican children donning hats, gloves, and scarves for the “cold” day! Apparently it can get quite chilly on Irazú (though I doubt it dropped below 65 while we were there), with an average temperature of 45 degrees and occasional frosts. It rains often too, but thankfully we felt just a few drops during our visit. (There's a rumor that on rare clear days you can see the Pacific and Caribbean from the volcano’s summit—which would have been awesome. Irazú is the highest active volcano in the country.)

We began exploring as soon as we arrived at Irazú, and the main attractions were two giant craters. The first was Diego de la Haya, the second was Crater Principal. Both craters were amazing, but the principal crater was especially magnificent, with a neon green lake created by minerals washed into sulfuric acid by frequent rainfall.

The remaining part of the volcano is a bit surreal—kind of a moonscape with its windswept fields of black volcanic sand. The last eruption of Irazú spanned the years of 1963 to 1965 (on a historical note, it blew its top on the day John F. Kennedy arrived in San Jose to visit the country), but geologists have determined that there is still magma beneath the volcano. We put our hands on the sand and it was very warm!

When we looked very closely, we saw the grains of sand moved around as if by magic, without the assistance of wind or human intervention. We learned there are magnetic anomalies at the volcano. One girl had grains of sand jump to her bracelet and cling there!

We saw stray flowers blooming on the spanning, lunar landscape, but overall the flattest part of the park looked desolate. Bordering it were steep inclines covered in thick vegetation—namely a comical looking plant called Sombrilla del Pobre, or Poor Man’s Umbrella, so named because the leaves are enormous—large enough to keep someone dry in a light rain.

Animal life was scare on the volcano, though we did see a few birds. The children found a dead hummingbird with iridescent blue and green wings. They took pity on the little body and buried it in the sand.

We spent quite a while hiking around (we noticed the thinner air!), and the kids had a great time. We took a break for lunch and then headed back home. Erin and I were wiped out by Tuesday night, but we had a fantastic time.

Wanna see what I’m talking about? You can click here to see more photos (with captions!) of our adventure. (Try the slideshow feature; you can use the pause button if you want to spend more time on a photo.)