Pruning the palms

When running through our neighborhood, it’s tempting to seek shade in the palm trees' shadows and out of the hot sun; yet we know better. On windy days, we occasionally hear a crash outside our house as a heavy, dying palm branch plummets to the ground—and we’re always glad nobody was below the tree when the frond fell.

Thankfully, the gardeners come by once in a while to prune the browning fronds from the trees. The palms are tall, so the workers have rigged an ultra-long pole with a blade securely attached to it with tape. With the blade, they remove the menacing fronds just waiting for a gust of wind to blow them down.

By the way, we are at the end of the dry season and just heading into rainy season; you can see how the grass in the field is just starting to get a little green. Soon everything will be lush and beautiful (and wet!).

Colas, sodas, and what’s on the menu

Here’s a little tidbit about eating and drinking in Costa Rica, with a Spanish lesson thrown in for fun.

If you’re looking for a bubbly beverage here in ticolandia, don’t ask for a cola. In Costa Rica, a tail—whether on an animal or a ponytail in the hair—is called a cola (sounds just like the cola you drink).

Perhaps you could order a soda? Not here. A small restaurant that serves traditional, inexpensive Costa Rican food is called a soda (yep, sounds just like the soda you drink). These little sodas are all over the place, even in remote areas of the country where one wonders how the soda gets its supplies and who is eating there. Anything but fancy, sodas often are sometimes just simple support structures with tin roofs or tarps overhead, as you can see was the case at Soda El Mango where we had lunch on a Manuel Antonio beach.



Sodas serve comida típica—typical/traditional tico food—which relies on local agriculture and cultural tradition. These very modest eateries sometimes don’t even offer menus to diners since it’s known they serve native dishes.

Typical tico dishes such as gallo pinto (a mixture of rice and beans) and casados are the norm. Casado means married, and casado plates are marriages of food to make a meal: rice, beans, a salad of some kind (perhaps heart of palm or cabbage and carrots), fried plantains, and some kind of meat or poultry. My favorite soda food is chifrijo—a combination of chicarrones (fried pork), frijoles (beans), rice, pico de gallo and some other yummy stuff that tastes fantastic.

Eating at soda is a great way to immerse oneself into the tico culture while getting a filling meal at a fair price.

So what do you ask for if you’re thirsty? A carbonated beverage is most often called by its actual name: Coca (for Coca Cola), Coca Light, Fanta … you get the idea. There are oodles of fruit juices here. Coconut milk—sipped from a coconut through a straw—is sometimes sold along well-traveled roads. And of course coffee is king in Costa Rica.

Our favorite drinks are the refrescos—sweet, satisfying concoctions made of liquefied, fresh fruit blended with either water or milk. These traditional drinks are available in loads of flavors such as watermelon, mango, strawberry, blackberry, tamarind, passion fruit, guanabana, and cas. Our favorites are watermelon and strawberry.

If you’re brave enough to try something that really packs a punch, sip a bit of guaro, the national liquor of Costa Rica made from distilled sugar cane.To minimize production of bootlegged guaro, the tico government nationalized the manufacturing of the stuff with the Fabrica Nacional de Licores-Fanal, offering Cacique, the only legal brand of guaro, since the mid 1800s. Just don’t become a guaro vaquero (guaro cowboy)—someone who’s had too much too drink and acts like an obnoxious fool!

There are plenty of other drinks available here in Costa Rica, but perhaps the best news is that you can safely drink tap water here, which is not the case in many Latin American countries. It's freeing not having to worry about what's in the water and makes eating and drinking much simpler.

Cheers!

A sense of belonging

Recently I was standing in the checkout line at a supermarket near my house. The employee who was scanning my groceries recognized me and greeted me by name, which made me smile.

As I waited for her to tally my purchases, I began singing quietly to the song playing in the store. Before long I wasn’t the lone vocalist, and I turned to grin at the guy next to me—a tico with flamboyant clothes and a faux-hawk who owns the salon a few doors down and occasionally cuts the girls’ hair. He has a very cute little dog named Paris who runs around the strip mall and is so fashionable he gets his tail dyed—usually pink or light orange. The kids love to see Paris and we usually stop for a moment to tell him hello or give him a scratch behind the ears.

In line behind the hairstylist was my beautiful, friendly pharmacist who is always helpful and lets me speak Spanish with her even though her English is excellent and I sometimes fumble with unfamiliar medical terms.

So there I was, sharing a friendly connection to all three people around me. I am part of my neighborhood; I am recognized. This is my home away from home, and while I have made some special and invaluable American friends here, it feels really good to have established relationships with ticos in my community.

Manuel Antonio in March

Our first spring break destination outside the valley was Manuel Antonio—both the park and the town. We visited the park last Thanksgiving, and it was so amazing we had to take my parents there, too.

Our lodging was a private villa on a cliff with a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean, framed by a canopy of trees that’s home to tropical birds, sloths, monkeys, and lizards. We enjoyed relaxing on the deck and listening to the surf as we soaked in our surroundings.

During our stay at the villa, my parents got a taste of authentic life in Costa Rica. Their suicide shower wasn’t working until the last day of our visit (after a handyman came to replace it) and the power in Manuel Antonio went out several times—once while we were dining out (thankfully by candlelight). These snags, which would be unexpected and unacceptable in the US, are common here and a reminder that we live in a developing country.

Boogie at the beach
To get to the beach—just a half mile from the villa—we drove down a path of indescribably rough terrain (four-wheel drive required!) and parked on the sand at the bottom. I’ve never felt ocean water at such a perfect temperature, and swimming was a welcome activity each afternoon since Manuel Antonio is hot and humid at this time of year. Dad rented a boogie board, and nearly all of us had a go at wave riding.

Horsin’ around
Our first night we ate dinner at a large, open-air place in Quepos called El Gran Escape (The Great Escape), which, in its former life, was both a brothel and a cervecería (place to buy beer). An authentic tope—or horse parade—was happening in the main street just outside the restaurant. In this festive atmosphere, Costa Ricans proudly display their high-stepping horses while others cheer them on and music plays.

Manuel Antonio National Park
Sunday was spent at the national park. We arrived early to avoid crowds, see the animals before their afternoon siestas, and enjoy hiking before the equatorial sun blazed too hot. The last time we visited was at the end of the rainy season when we crossed the water in a boat to reach the park; this time, nearing the end of the dry season, we walked through hot sand to reach the park’s entrance.

We loved showing Mom and Dad what we’d learned on our last visit, and it was great to see some new things too—like the tell-tale turtle tracks on the beach that Dad spotted. We also tackled a new, more difficult trail for hiking: Punta Catedral (Cathedral Point), an outcropping of land that was once an island but now connects to the mainland by a natural land bridge. This hike of about an hour took us up a steep incline through dense jungle. It was a challenging (and sweaty!) climb, but it was so beautiful and unique, it was worth it—especially when we saw the view of the ocean, far above the surf pounding rocks below.

More monkeys
We saw plenty of wildlife on our trip, both while in the park and elsewhere. A highlight was the huge troop of squirrel—or titi—monkeys as they migrated past our villa early one morning. These fun little monkeys are incredibly cute as they swing through the canopy, gripping branches with their tails and then launching their small bodies to nearby trees. They’re also a vulnerable species, so we felt very lucky to see so many—including a few mamas with their babies firmly attached to their backs. Many monkeys ran across the roof of the deck, and one peered over the edge to get a closer look at us. (A capuchin monkey had done the same thing the day before, with his eye on Erin’s ginger cookie!)

While we heard howler monkeys several times throughout our travels, these noisy creatures did not wake us in the middle of the night with their roaring, as they did on our last trip to the area.

Isla Damas
On Monday morning, we toured the protected inland waterways of the Damas Island estuary. We traveled with our knowledgeable guide Eduardo to the sleepy town of Isla Damas, just north of bustling Quepos. There we boarded a canopied boat for a morning trip through a unique ecosystem nestled in a lush mangrove forest.

We made our way through a maze of narrow channels of brackish water surrounded by amazing African palms, loads of plants and trees, and impressive red and black mangroves. We saw a variety of marine birds, crabs, lizards, and even the rare-to-spot silky anteater napping in a tree. But the best—no surprise here—were the playful monkeys who came right up to our boat and jumped on the roof, let us touch their hands, and provided fantastic entertainment for their human guests.

Valley bound
After three nights, we left tropical Manuel Antonio for Santa Ana. The ride home was scenic and uneventful (always a blessing!), and we were glad to return to the cool, breezy valley we love.

Click here to see a photo album of our trip (best viewed as a slideshow). ¡Pura vida!

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah

Many thanks for the emails asking where we’ve been, if I have writer’s block, and whether I've just been too busy sunbathing to post even the measliest of blogs. I appreciate the concern and am happy to share that my absence from writing has been for the best of reasons—we were enjoying a fantastic, adventurous, amazing (and yes, a wee bit exhausting!) two-week vacation with my parents. Plenty of fodder for blogging, so stay tuned for a few tales of our journeys.

That said, I already know exactly where to jump in with a story, because the following is the adventure most likely to surprise those who know me (and my fear of heights!) well. This journey actually occurred later in our travels, but who says everything has to be in chronological order, anyway?

Last week the six of us drove to the imposing Volcán Arenal (Arenal Volcano)—a massive, conical volcano (the most active of the nation's volcanoes) that rises up from the San Carlos plains in the northwestern part of Costa Rica. You can’t drive to the top of Arenal and look at the crater because it’s constantly spewing gases, ash, and molten rock. At night, if you’re lucky, you can see the fiery rock spilling down the side of the volcano. Unfortunately we were on the other side of the volcano and didn’t experience this (maybe next time!), but seeing nearly all the volcano a few times (when it was not at least partially obscured by clouds) was incredible in itself.

While at the foothills of Arenal we stayed at Los Lagos, a resort with large grounds reminiscent of a botanical park—the trees and flowers of this area are varied and spectacular. The resort also featured a great view of Arenal, a hot springs pool (ahhhh, that was so nice!), a couple of regular pools with some fast waterslides, a crocodile farm, butterfly garden, horseback riding … and a zip line.

If the term zip line is new to you, here’s a quick overview: On a zip line—also known as a canopy tour—a series of cables is mounted from tree to tree, on an incline, and there is a platform at the end of each cable. A rider wears a harness around the waist and legs, which is secured to a pulley suspended on the cable. The rider then takes off from the platform (usually just by stepping off) and glides—propelled by gravity—from one platform to another, flying over trees and through the canopy itself.

Though three of the six of us (my dad, Erin, and I) are afraid of heights (perhaps putting it mildly for at least Dad and me), we decided this extreme sport would be an unforgettable adventure we could all share. Carpe diem—a chance to make our lives extraordinary! So we signed up for the zip on Thursday and headed out for the plunge on Friday morning.

At the start of the zip line, we were each outfitted with a harness, a helmet, and a leather hand-guard/glove. I was pretty sure the helmet was in case a branch fell on my head, because it wouldn't have helped much had I gone plummeting to the ground far below, but I didn't dwell on that or I would have made myself nuts.

We rode part way up the side of the mountain in a van and exited at a little station with a short cable. The lead instructor taught us how to ride the line and how to brake (nobody wants to smash into a tree, a la George of the Jungle), and after a short learning session it was time to go! The good news is that the first zip line started at ground level and took us down the mountain slope, so there was no need to climb an intimidating tower, which was my greatest fear and which I still think may have stopped me from ever doing the zip.

The zip line we went on had 15 cables and 16 platforms, with distances varying from 50 to 500 meters, for a full distance of three kilometers (1.86 miles)—oh, and reaching speeds of up to 80 kph/50 mph. The zip was strung above and throughout the tropical rainforest, dense and wild and absolutely gorgeous; Lauren even saw monkeys on her zip. We were part of a large group, and Lauren was the first to go. Pigtails flying in the wind, she rode with the guide and had a blast the entire trip. Shortly after, Erin took off. She was the youngest in our group to go by herself. Wow, I was so proud of her! Then Dan jumped, then me, then my parents.

Soaring through the air above the treetops on this high-wire ride was an adrenaline-pumping rush that’s hard to describe. At times I was able to take in what I was passing as I whizzed through the sky, while at others I was rocketing past towering trees at speeds too quick for me to see much of the tropical rainforest below, mouth agape as the reality of what I was doing sunk in. Oddly enough—and this is the honest truth—I never experienced the paralyzing fear I was concerned about. Maybe the adrenaline is what saw me through, maybe it was the agonizing thought of returning to the United States to the ridicule of “You lived in Costa Rica and never did a zip line?!?!”—but I did it. We all did it—the girls, Dan and me, and my incredible parents of whom I was so proud.

Thankfully for us (and I suppose you, if you’re up for it) the zip line company stationed a photographer throughout the zip so we have pictoral evidence of our high-flying thrill ride. Enjoy the photos (best seen as a slideshow); they will always remind me of the day I met a daunting challenge head-on and shared a wild adventure with those I love most—and lived to blog about it.

Gracias por la música

I went shopping today at Hipermás, a large department/grocery store (owned by and similar to Wal-Mart yet not as inexpensive, unfortunately). Shortly after I got there, I stopped to listen to the music playing overhead, trying to make out the words of the all-too familiar song. It was ABBA’s Chiquitita—but in Spanish.

I knew ABBA had done several recordings in Spanish, and today was my chance to listen to them, since they played the entire time I browsed the aisles. I heard Thank You for the Music; Dancing Queen; Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!; Fernando; I Have a Dream; Knowing Me, Knowing You … I wish the girls had been with me, they really would have enjoyed it.

¡Pura música!

The shortage ends (and why expats love stuff from home)

Do you recall the dreadful mac and cheese shortage that recently swept Costa Rica? I’m pleased to share with you an update on the status of blue boxes here in the valley …

Our friends David and India called us after church yesterday with the news: there was one precious pallet of Kraft M&C in at PriceSmart. Yippee! They kindly bought 30 boxes for us (we just couldn't ask for more!), and we intend on a trip to the store soon in hopes of finding another couple dozen.

Shortly after we returned from a relaxing Sunday afternoon at the pool, David arrived with the blue boxes. Dan promptly rescued two of them from their shrink wrap and made dinner—and it was delicious.

In other food news, I recently purchased brown sugar for the first time since we've been here. I had been making do with azúcar con caramelo (sugar with caramel, basically) which was not bad, but my cookies and baked goods just didn't taste quite the same or have that perfect consistency. I didn't know if I'd ever find brown sugar here until a friend told me it is possible, but difficult, since it's rarely in stock. Yet there it was last week, unassumingly sitting on the shelves as if it had been there all along. I bought numerous boxes, but two are already gone. How long will brown sugar keep, anyway? Because I'm planning on getting a whole bunch more while the getting is good.

Think we're crazy? That we’ve completely lost our grip on reality since moving south of the border? This enlightening piece by expat Pamela Druckerman explains how valued American goods can be to those so far from home. Funny thing is, I hadn’t read this article since it was first published—right before Thanksgiving—and now I see that Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and brown sugar are both mentioned in the text. How validating!

It’s true that expats thrill at the thought of jamming suitcases full of products straight off the shelves of Target and Wal-Mart and lugging the stuff back to their adopted countries. Those people visiting expats are lovingly (yet eagerly!) considered as pack mules. My parents will be here soon and have a list of goodies to haul—from two Nintendo DS games for an American friend of ours to sugar-free Tums, peanut M&Ms, Gain apple mango tango dryer sheets, and packets of Taco John’s hot sauce if they can get them (oh please, we're begging!). We are more than excited to see Mom and Dad, but I’m sure soon after they’ve settled in we’ll be asking, “Where’s the stuff?! Did you bring the Reese's Pieces???”

Lost in translation

Sause on pork shop? Sound tasty? This is Erin's favorite goofed up translation, found on the menu of a traditional Tico restaurant near Poás.

It’s common to find mistakes in the English translations that occasionally appear on menus here. The one I've seen most frequently is "jam" meaning "ham," since the j sounds like an h in Spanish. Toasted jam and cheese sandwich, anyone?

Last Saturday, I bought Crismelos, a Costa Rican brand of marshmallows, to use in Rice Krispies treats for the kids. While many packaged food products from Central America do not include preparation directions, Crismelos has gone beyond the call of duty and offered a recipe for "Crismelos Chocolates" on the back of the bag—in both Spanish and English. The translation is amusing:

"Melts the chocolate bars in furnace of microwaves, immediately removes the cup from the furnace, right away introduced the Crismelos in the chocolate one by one. Placed in pyrex and put the refrigerator."

Furnace of microwaves? I'm not sure my average microwave is up to the task!

Moving on, here's another favorite Spanish-to-English translation. Found on a map of Sarchí, a town recognized for its beautiful wood-working and traditional oxcarts, this gem appears next to its Spanish counterpart in bold, capital letters:

This is a Costarican art monument, artesanal jewel and artistical. It is a national symbol and it was declared as intangible patrimony of the humankind by UNESCO on November 2005. The craddle of the Costarican handcraft Sarchi realized this emblematical oxcart. It was created at the historical Eloy Alfaro and Sons Workshop, built and painted in 3 months whit the supporting of 3 painters and 3 crafters. The oxcart is 20 meters lenght and 3800 inches of bitter cedar and laurel.

The snippet about the “intangible patrimony of the humankind” is priceless. While part of me desperately wants to edit the English on Costa Rica’s menus, maps, and brochures, the rest of me appreciates the levity of such delightfully funny renderings.

¡Puras palabras!

5K Day

The 25th anniversary CDS fun run was this weekend at the girls’ school, and Dan ran the hills of Escazú on a sunny yet cool morning. Our friend Gabriel also ran the race, and I chatted with his wife Isa and their little ones while the guys ran. Erin and Lauren had fun wandering the school grounds with amigas and cheering for their dad.

The blue box blues

When mama wants to please me
she's only got to cheese me!
I got the blues ...

A minor crisis has struck our household in the form of what appears to be a country-wide shortage of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Yes, the marginally nutritional, unnaturally orange, yet unfailingly comforting and homey pasta dinner in the blue box. Can't find it anywhere—not even at the big warehouse club down the highway. I open the kitchen cupboard and see that empty spot where the mac and cheese normally resides, and feel a pang of despair. In a country with extremely little in the way of frozen or pre-prepared food, we've come to rely on Kraft mac and cheese for an easy Sunday supper or a snack to fill hungry bellies.

Here's the thing: One can never count on anything imported from the US to be in stock. A month ago I needed a basic antibiotic and was told at the pharmacy that it was unavailable and I wouldn’t find it in any pharmacy in Costa Rica. I asked for a substitute and got one, no problem. (A side note: you don’t need a prescription for many drugs in CR, including antibiotics.)

Another example … When we first moved here, I bought a couple of cans of Campbell's tomato soup, because it's my favorite and Lauren loves it, too. It costs twice as much as at home, but it was a splurge we were willing to make.

Next trip back to the store ... no Campbell's tomato. Cream of mushroom, chicken noodle, a stray can of Manhattan clam chowder, sure. But no tomato.

We tried other kinds of tomato soup, but nothing fit the bill. I was disappointed until—several months later—there they were! Four cans of tomato soup wrapped in familiar red and white labels. Not to be fooled again, I bought all four cans. This last week there was an impressive stock of the stuff. Why? I have no idea. Sometimes stores carry a lot of a certain import and then it will disappear off the shelves for weeks to months at a time.

Sadly, the mac and cheese has vanished. We buy it in bulk at Pricesmart, and all four of us stood dumbfounded and stared at the shelves last Saturday when we realized there was no mac and cheese. What's the deal? Are the Americans hording all the mac and cheese, creating increased demand for the stuff and causing this shortage here in Central America? (And if so—hey, knock it off!)

We'll play the waiting game, and at some point I expect we'll stock our makeshift food storage room with a case or so of Kraft Mac and Cheese. Until then ... we've got the blue box blues.

The big bucket in the sky

Not long ago, Lauren went to a friend's house after school to play. Shortly before dinner, I drove (with Erin in tow) to the friend's house (through harrowing rush hour traffic, I might add!) to retrieve the little one. I had met the father of Lauren's friend, who works for the US embassy, but never the mom, so we sat down for a few minutes and enjoyed chatting while the kids finished making their sock puppets.

As we were talking, I learned that the father, John, is from Lexington, Kentucky. About 15 minutes later, I finally mustered up the nerve to ask about the large portrait hanging on the far side of the family room and dining room. "Uh, is that really a painting of Colonel Sanders?"

Yep, it is. Colonel Sanders was John's great-great grandfather. Later, within five minutes of leaving our friends' place, we drove past a KFC. Erin wondered, "Do you think they get a discount?"

I should have asked if he has the secret family recipe with eleven herbs and spices!

Goodlight is great news

Books in English are a hot commodity. We brought most of our books with us and have been rereading page after page, because buying new books in English is not in the budget: a $7 paperback in the US goes for $14 here. I crave new reading material and sorely miss trips to the library. When we return to the US, I'll be spending hours poring over all the lit I've missed during our time in CR.

Frustrated with reading the same old stuff, I began the search to borrow books from other Americans. And then, through an Internet group of expats living in CR, I learned about Goodlight Books. This great little shop is unpretentiously sandwiched between typical Tico locales, but it's a true gem for bibliophiles: it's a bookstore selling used books in English at reasonable prices.

Once I'd heard about Goodlight, I’d planned that we'd stop there on the way home from our trip to Poás. The shop is in Alajuela, about a 20-minute drive from our home in Santa Ana.

We found the store with little trouble (not always an easy feat in no-street-signs Costa Rica) and happily plunked down about $50 for at least 30 books (I lost count somewhere along the way). The shop owner was very personable, the selection of material beyond adequate, and I even got to pet the resident cat, Chola, who was hanging out on the top of the computer desk. Wooohoooo! We've got plenty to keep us reading, now!

A book is like a garden carried in the pocket. ~Chinese Proverb

Day trip to Poás Volcano

On a sunny Saturday, we set out to visit Poás Volcano—the silhouette of which we can see from our house (though it looks just like the other mountains around us). Our drive took us through the nearby town of Alajuela and then skirted a few smaller towns, such as San Pedro, Fraijanes, and Poasito. (Click here for photos of our day.)

On our way we were treated to green, lush vegetation, including trees bursting with vibrant orange and deep purple flowers. We saw a waterfall rushing down a mountainside, a large crop of sugar cane, coffee plantations, and field after field of what we’ve been told are ferns, strawberries, and even coffee growing under massive, ventilated tarps.

We stopped for a few photos as we ascended; we could see the Central Valley and all the tarps from higher up the mountain. Our ears were popping and we had to put the windows up on the Rav4, because the temps dropped quite a bit. (You can get cold in sunny Costa Rica!)

After about a 90-minute drive we reached Poás National Park. All visitors are asked to park their cars facing out, in case there is need to evacuate. Thankfully the volcano didn’t blow its top while we were there. (I believe the park was last closed to visitors in the 90s when Poás was spitting out too much gas.)

We hiked a bit until we reached the highlight of the park—the active crater. At a 1.5-kilometer diameter, this active crater is reportedly the widest of any volcano in the world. The crater has a steaming, blue-green lake. (The lake’s color changes frequently; when we left CR on our trip to the US, the pilot flew over Poás and the color of the lake was much more intense than it appeared on this visit.) Though we just saw a few bubbling emissions of sulfuric gas—which we could smell, as well—the volcano is known to have huge, geyser-like eruptions.

As is typical for Poás, there were clouds that rolled in and over the crater. Thankfully they were thin and dissipated quickly so we had great views of the entire crater and surrounding area. We were grateful for the sun’s warmth, because in addition to the cooler mountain temps it was extremely windy at the overlook for the active crater. At one point, Lauren sought refuge under an observation stand just to get a break from the gale. We knew enough to wear pants and bring jackets, but saw some people in shorts, T-shirts, and flip flops. I wondered if they realize the gift shop sells jackets.

We backtracked just a few yards down the trail from the active crater to a 1.5-kilometer trail leading to Botos Lagoon. This hike was uphill most of the way (in high elevations—whew!) but led us through a very cool section of stunted forest. The park actually has great biodiversity and boasts four distinct habitats: areas with little vegetation (such as around the crater), the dwarf forest (made of crazy looking, twisted trees with gnarly roots), a cloud forest (very wet and dark with tall trees—this around the lagoon), and an area of arrayans (flowering, evergreen shrubs).

The dwarf forest and cloud forest were amazing; and yes, we did walk through several areas with plenty of canopy where wispy clouds hung around. Thankfully we all worse sturdy shoes, as the trail was slippery in places due to the humidity.

After about 30 minutes we reached the sparkling Botos Lagoon, a dormant volcanic crater filled with rainwater (yet still acidic). It wasn’t nearly as windy at this overlook, thankfully. Additionally, the lagoon overlook is the park’s highest elevation. Dan wore a GPS that shows feet above sea level, and as we hiked, Erin kept asking how high we were. The highest we remember seeing was 8861 feet, and I think the highest point in the park is 8870 feet.

Once we reached the end of the trail we’d hiked well over two muscle-testing miles of mountain. We stopped in the gift shop for a look around and shared a snack and some hot chocolate in the cafeteria.

Not long after that we began our descent and stopped near Poasito for some lunch. The girls had some sweet aguas naturales—water and ice blended with fresh fruit (Erin had strawberry, Lauren had mango). Lauren had a gallo de queso (fried Tico-type cheese on a fresh, corn tortilla) and the rest of us had typical Costa Rican breakfast (yes at about 2:30 in the afternoon) of scrambled eggs and gallo pinto. We were so hungry, it hit the spot. It was a nice lunch to cap off a fun day trip.

¡Pura Poás!

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.