Recuerdos De (Memories of ) Costa Rica

Juntos montamos hacia el sol.

A Detouring Highway
My words are my wealth with this start I'll propose,
a sentimental reminder of what you already know,
that inside the cities where you can't see the sky,
where money's the master and without it you die,
dollars, and deadlines, competition, and greed,
wasting time in a race to obtain the things we don't need,
so many are clueless, brainwashed, and lost,
putting price tags on life thinking happiness costs,
down a detouring highway to this place I've been drawn,
for its sea breezes and sunsets for life's chatter at dawn,
beyond pictures and postcards mere words can't explain,
this magical mixture of sunshine and rain,
pure life at its best and it doesn't cost a dime,
my chains are now broken set-free heart and mind.
-"Kayak Joe"


Recuerdos De Costa Rica
Day One in San Jose

Wake up and make the Costa Rican coffee commercial. Take film to get developed and wander around looking for sweat pants that I never will use during the trip. I am so wired and ancy Jim appears a tad worried about me. I think this is a combination of too much coffee and having stopped taking my anti-depressant medicine. I was really wired. We stop at a bank to get some Collones, and Jim picks the bank with the policemen with the BIG guns, “I want to go in that one!” he says pointing like a little boy picking out a ride at Astroworld.  By the time we find the sweatpants we are a couple blocks off the square and I begin to use more of my Spanish – the woman says to me – “Ah, hables Espanol?” and I say, “Un Poco.” We begin talking. She says my Spanish is great and I sound like I use it all the time. I would hear this more and more at the trip went on. YAY!! 

Very early on I realized I needed to fight the urge to say everything in Spanish and give Jim the opportunity to practice his Spanish. I still probably butted in more than I should have – but within a few days and numerous beers – his Spanish becomes at least as good as mine was on day two of the trip and this is a huge improvement for Jim – his pronunciation also significantly improves. 

Jim wants to try the beef out at the local McDonalds – great fried chicken there.

Christine had told me to get the Hell out of San Jose pronto, so after a celebratory Margarita – we head out to find our way out of San Jose and back onto the InterCoastal Highway. Jim wants to remember the men working in the manhole, the car accident and the people driving around it all. Jim finds his way to the inter-coastal highway like an old time Tico. 

Now I don’t know if this is the correct highway – it did not seem like a highway for long and before I know it, we are following signs to the next town on the map in a list of towns that leads to Quepos. These signs lead us to winding our way up and down into the mountains. Who knows? There was a huge drop off that I was not really aware of at first. I was too excited to notice as I was enjoying the scenery, and second, my side was up against the mountain wall. I would definitely notice the jagged dropping cliff on our way home – but that is a story for later.

Nature calls and we stop at a little Sopa – for carne guisada – first rain storm – find fried plantains, sample a buffet of various fruits at the fruit stand.

Enter Quepos – end up in Manuel Antonio – decide it’s too late for travel to Bahari.

Eat at El Avion 7ish

Check into Bobaloo Inn $50 night special. 9ish and call Bahari Beach.

Rock on the porch – get to bed around 11ish.

Find our way to Bahari Beach –

Are met by Caroline – then walk on the beach – BIG wave washes us up the beach – rinse off – lounge in pool get ready for dinner. Go to eat dinner – great Chicken – tiny shrimp – ugghh. Great wine. Retire to the porch – lounge around and fall asleep.

Day one at Bahari Beach begins with coffee on the beach – I already wrote about how Jim and I sat and watched the sand crabs etc. The lights are off by the time we come in for breakfast – so I know we will be taking a short drive to the main intersection in Matapalo to find more coffee and the horseback riding lady named Claudia.

Jim pulls the car up a long drive and I get out to figure out which house has horses. I determine it is the one down the long path and walk on toward my guesstimation only to find a very large and loud black lab “Macho” and his smaller less ferocious companions being very defensive of their home. Soon we are met by a tall strong woman with a wide and welcoming smile. Yes she rents horses and as she ties the dogs up we discuss the high tide and the timing and prices of it all. We learn she is from Switzerland, has lived in CR for about 5 years and moved here about 3 or 4 years after first visiting. She speaks German and French and Swiss and English and Spanish. I ask what language the dogs speak – she says “they understand German and French and Swiss and English and Spanish, but they speak dog of course!”

She has a quick dry wit that for me takes getting used to – but reading Jim’s reaction I realize this woman is not being bitchy – just very to the point and tell it as it is. We agree to meet at 4 pm and she runs off and returns with a sprig of Jasmine leaves. She tells us they use this plant to make Channel perfume. Oh wow – it smells amazing, better than the perfume. She tells us to put it in the car for the aroma and we do.  We agree to meet her at 4 that afternoon.

Our next stop is at Susana’s Cocina where, in Spanish, I instruct a young bar girl how to make coffee by boiling water on the stove and pouring through the coffee filter. Once she sees we can speak Spanish she lightens up and relaxes and we chat over coffee. I think this is when Jim finds more Fried Plantains – our favorite snack.  From here we leave to drive around and see what little there is to see in Matapalo and we soon decide to return back to Bahari and just be bums. As we are walking back to the tent from parking the car – we wonder about lunch as no one is in the restaurant. We then run into Ron – a semi-retired guy from California building a house and B&B – he shows us his new house and lets us pick some limes from his tree. “Wow – would you really like to retire here? I ask Jim.” And he answers an absolute “Yes, I really would.”

We head back and lounge around the pool – shortly we get Caroline to bring us two more of the great Rum and Tropical Juice drinks like we had the day before and we just hang out watching an Iguana we named Bobbi, we also asked about a sandwich.

French couple pass by looking for food.

Meantime Ron shows back up and tells us he knows a girl who gives massages and Jim and I take a walk looking for her. She lives behind a blue gate that we never find – we do find her cousin though who we pay a dollar to pass a message along for us that we seek a massage.

During our walk we notice about 10 vultures in the trees just waiting for us to drop dead. We laugh about one of them snatching Chulo up – should he end up coming to live here with us. We also laugh about what Sally would think about the iguanas that are larger than she is – which one would be lunch? We decide it might just be Sally a la Carte.

There are very few cats in Costa Rica.

After that we head off to take a short walk along the beach – the tide is in and the undertow ferocious. Together we dare bit by bit to go in a tad farther until I am up to my knees – but I am clinging tighter and tighter to Jim’s arm as we go.  Finally upon our return from the beach – Caroline returns with Sandwiches. She explains that Ludwig is off to town today to buy food for tonight and that she is caring for Florian and a local boy. No problem. We devour our food and soon the boys come to swim. Feeling a bit tired, I decide to lay down for a 15 minute nap, I fall asleep listening to the boys play in the pool – shouting and directing each other in Spanish – oh how easy it is to understand directive verbs I think just before I am lost to my dreams in paradise. I could have slept for 2 hours but Jim wakes me up quickly so we are not late for our horseback riding date with Claudia.

Horseback Riding on the Beach

Home for Dinner – Delicious Marlin and Fried Cheese – Tangy, Salty Salad, AMAZING DESSERT – Finish the wine and talk about all the concerts we have been to. Watch a big bat dive bomb us at our table. Crazy but “I’ve got a hand for you” comes on the stereo and I can’t remember the name of the band. “It has a fish in it …?” I say amazed that my mind is blanking on something once so important to me– this CD had once been a special favorite, and I could not remember the name Hootie and the Blowfish to save my life.” 

Lalli calls and I get on the phone with her in Spanish. She says it’s too late for a massage “Las calles son muy peligrosas en la noche y no tengo un coche a traer me equipaje.” Ah of course, again I forget where I am – maybe tomorrow??

Playing Cards in the tent in the Rain – Drinking Heredura
Worrying about not having enough time in CR

Morning –
Second Morning Coffee on Beach – Again we relax with morning coffee on the beach – then suddenly we are rushed as we must be ready to leave for the Flight of the Toucan Canopy Tour  – great breakfast and we are off to Baru. Ok now we understand the true meaning of very bad road.

We show up late and find two guides and one older hefty lawyer tourist a few meters into the jungle. They say the white-faced monkeys have just left. We would hear this again again on our trip. I think the little monkeys could see the MonkeyGod coming and would run off. One guide walks ahead with a telescope finding cool things to see in the jungle, and the other takes a moment to talk to us about the last cool thing the other guy just found. 

We start with a lesson on termites and how they have a symbiotic relationship with the ants. Believe it or not the termites don’t eat the healthy wood of the trees only the dying stuff – Jim  can  explain all this better – anyway the guide picks up a stick and serves us some live Termites to taste – a real live Fear Factor moment - we each munch on one and sure enough they taste just like fresh green beans.

The next thing we see are trails of leaf cutter ants with their little leaves on their backs commuting here and there on their own little Inter-Jungle Highway. It is truly like something from Honey I Shrunk the Kids. I am looking at the ground trying to spot anthills not to step in and I almost fall in an ant hill the size of a car. Oh the Ant Hill is an ant mountain range, and guess what? I am now the size of a large bird compared to this thing. Compared to the trees, again we are big as kittens or rabbits or something. Jim and I stand within the roots of one tree that I could have burrowed myself right into and began to pop out my own little Thumpers.

The next charming jungle experience is watching a sloth lounging around in the tree tops. We had already seen several with Claudia, including one very dead one that had fallen out of a tree. Ron had also told us a story about how sloths have very poor vision, and one day while he was sitting in his buddy’s bar, a sloth wandered in and started trying to climb a house plant. They had to take him out and put him on a decent tree.

Using the telescope, we are able to see our sloth very close-up. She is lounging on her back in the Y of a branch, specks of sun warming her fur thorough the canopy. We are told she sleeps all but one hour a day. That she only comes down to poop, and, as is obvious, that sloths move and eat leaves very very slowly. It is at this point that I make the joke that in the states I wake up with a sloth every morning. Then the guide adds that sloths take at least an hour to mate, and I tell Jim (loud enough for all to hear) that he is no sloth after all. The sloth smiles as though she has heard this joke before. Her markings allow her to wear an appropriate sonrisa toda el tiempo – after all, she lives in the jungle in Costa Rica what is there not to smile about?

A tad further on we see Poison Dart Frogs chilling in a pool of water that had gathered in the hollow of a log – very pretty black and neon green glowing little things they are. We learn no two frogs have the same markings and that the poison on their skin is like getting bit by a rattle snake. Yikes. Yet these dangerous frogs just sit there with a “don’t mess with us” attitude. Our guide gets close to snap a photo for us. They still do not seem interested in attacking anyone. I like that, and we move on.

After quite a hike up into the jungle we are ready to begin to zip back down. The gear is heavy around my hips, and my legs and lungs feel my exertion. Sweat is pouring down my back, but I am never hot. It is actually cool in the jungle and bugs are not even thinking of landing on us. I am not really afraid to do the zip line as I can’t really see the jungle floor – if I fell it looks like I would land in a cloud of leaves and bounce on them like a tiny fairy – slide down a palm frawn and yell “Yay let’s do it again!”

Still, I can see that is really not the case. The platforms we are standing on for the zip line take off are rickety, creaking contraptions high up in the trees. And with each heavy step the lawyer takes they shake terribly. I would have been terrified, but they had latched each of us to some heavy steel cable connected to the tree. Thus if the platform falls, we don’t.  Our guide tells us his oldest zip liner was something like 75 years old – wow now that is living.

We see a gigantic tree that had fallen over recently. The guide says folks could hear it go down in a nearby town and that a zip tour had just finished a few hours before. The tree took down 4 zip lines with it. Cable or no cable – we are still in the jungle and this story reminds me that we are at its mercy.

With a push I am off zipping through the jungle. It goes by very fast and all I can see is that I am headed for a very big tree at the other end.  I must be going at least 20 MPH it seems. I notice that the man who is supposed to catch me is pretending (I hope) to not be paying attention – so of course I start screaming. “Hey hey heeeereee I coooome !!!!!”  He then turns and smiles and leans over to grab me. I stop within a foot from placing my lasting impression of one very dead recently hysterical American woman on the tree trunk. “If you look closely you can still see some hair in the bark and this tiny tooth,” the guide will point out 30 years from now. “That is why we don’t let crazy American women on the zip lines anymore.” 

The guides are very intelligent men near our age – they have degrees in horticulture or biology or something like this. One is in love with orchids and studies them. He takes time to show us orchids growing off the sides of the trees. I don’t know if orchids smell good or not. The jungle smells very fresh. Yet most of the time – especially on the platforms - all I can smell are four, yes FOUR, very sweaty men. I worry the aroma might attract some wild beast – then I remember even wild animals won’t eat rotted meat.

Near the end of our journey we are joined by a group of Toucans who start singing and bouncing their beaks about joyfully. Perhaps they are telling the stinky men to get out of their jungle – or maybe they are just singing. Then we see an iguana about the size of Jim’s whole leg. The lizard is sunning on a branch way way up there. Although we are headed back, we stop and take a peak at him through the telescope. Wow! Never once do the guides make us feel rushed or like they are just doing their job and collecting a paycheck. These men love what they do, and we feel like special guests in our new friend’s wild and diverse backyard.  We thank them whole-heartedly and exchange email addresses, and head to find lunch.

The reserve has a nice little outdoor restaurant and Jim and I decide to take a break to eat here. I remember how lunch had been sparse at Bahari and think it a wise idea to eat while we can. As we order two very delicious cold beers, (you think a beer on the beach is good, a beer coming out of the jungle is incredibly delicious) we are kept company at the bar by a little 2-year-old Tica – who understands my Spanish and (after a very poor monkey imitation on my part) shows me how Monos really sound – I say in Spanish, Jim is ugly and she says – so sweetly – No, es Lindo!

Later Jim reaches for her father’s calculator to show her how to make a smiley face on the screen and she stops him sternly – little pudgy hand out in front of her – fingers pointing accusingly – “NO, es por mi Papa! No!” And she takes the machine and places it under the bar away from Jim’s reach. Told off by a two year old – already taught not to trust Los Americanos no matter how guapo or lindo they are!

Jim has the best club sandwich of his life and I have the best Shrimp salad. My salad has large pink shrimp, hearts of palm, corn, black beans, cucumber, red onion, tomatoes and a delicious remoulaude sauce.

A Life Changing Bladder Moment
We look around the gift shop, I tinkle and then we head back to Bahari – 10 minutes later and what do you  know, I have to Pee again – a life changing bladder moment. We stop at Mango J’s a bar/restaurant owned by Jay and Ivanna.

(About Jay and Ivanna)

Here we also meet LeeAnn and Christian (the same Christian whose name we had seen on the sign selling ocean property in Matapalo) I say [e-mail] and he says yep and then we all start talking.

After some getting to know ya conversation, Jay decides to take us up the mountain in LeeAnn’s 4X4, and I mean UP the mountain on red clay roads – I have not put on my seat belt and am balancing my Bloody Mary in one hand – hanging on for dear life with the other.  We are headed up the mountain to view an expanse of property that Jay bought 20 years ago for 30 grand – today it is worth 5 million. He says he is property poor and needs to sell it so he can enjoy the finer things in life (I guess he is not counting the 20 year old Tica Ivanna that he made his wife 5 years ago at the tender age of 15.) 

He says Jim and I can buy this cleared off space of land overlooking the jungle and the sea for 200 grand ! WOW. We may have a picture of us standing on our property already.

The guys chat and I learn that LeeAnn is a retired Political Science instructor / Mayor from Minnesota – she sold it all and came here.

After getting to know her later in the day – Jim and I recognize that some people live here and some people hide here – some people live abundant lives lost in paradise and others are lost in the abundance of paradise and there IS a difference.

The story of Lee Ann is much the same for Christian so there is no surprise that they are close friends (aka F_cK buddies). This day was LeeAnn’s birthday and the couple had taken a little trip somewhere to celebrate. Lee Ann was clear to mention that Chris had asked for three beds in the room – Jim laughed and said he did not want to know what the 3rd bed was for. I butted in and said it was for Chris’s imaginary friend and Lee Ann added you don’t know how many he has.

Oh Susana
However I am getting a tad ahead of myself. We leave the hill with more solid dreams of owning property and have a couple more drinks at Mango J’s before leaving. Jay asks us if we had met Susanna yet in Matapalo and we explain that we had been to her pequena cocina but had only met the girl who works for her. Jay says he plans to have dinner there at 5 and asks us to join him and his wife there. We agree to stop by and let Susanna know she will need to cook something up for dinner for five guests. This is around 2:30 pm. By 3:00 we are at the sola – Christian and LeeAnn have beat us here and quickly introduce us to Susanna – a very charming and beautiful woman in her 50’s I would guess. We pass the dinner message on to her as we grab chairs at the bar by our new friends and order drinks.

Susana speaks something like 7 languages – German, French, English, and Spanish for sure. She grew up in Germany and moved to Canada where she stole her neighbor’s husband while keeping warm during a hard freeze in a barn – ahh what romance. Anyway they now live in Costa Rica and run this sweet little cocina. It begins to rain and we start drinking while Susana scurries about the outdoor kitchen musing about what to cook for dinner. As it is the low season, the local shops are not fully stocked – thus the notice from Jay about dinner. 

I sing Oh Susana in Spanish to Susana, and the Ricky Martin song about Rain and we all begin to swap jokes. Susana takes a break a charlar con nosotros y compartir  some drinks and smokes. I can’t remember the jokes she told but they were very funny. Then I tell the joke about the lawyer, priest and captain on the boat that is sinking – Oh how they laugh at the punchline – “We have time to F_ck the children?” 

LeeAnn comments that Christian would especially like the joke – however he has left after an enjoyable debate with LeeAnn about whether or not they need a break from each other – having just spent 3 days on vacation.  Christian decides they do and leaves for a swim. We buy LeeAnn a birthday drink and hear her story about how someone she had once given a key to, to watch her house, had decided take her recent vacation as an opportunity to rob her – thus she was broke – she is oddly mad at local folks (who saw the person go in the house) for not stopping him or checking up on things. Susana puts her in her place – “You gave him a key LeeAnn.” I get the sense this person may have been an X of LeeAnn – perhaps jealous of her little vacation with Christian??  Ah the drama of Matapalo.. No?? 

I know however it does not take a full-blooded Tico down on his luck to try his or her luck with the Tourist – it’s bad enough to be a tourist – worse to be an American Tourist.

Back to the drinks --

I first ask for a Mojito which Susanna does not have mint for, then I think about a margarita but that seems too trite – I needed something new and adventurous but not too sweet.  I want the Bombay Gin sitting pretty on the shelf behind the bar–  Susanna suggests a Bombay and fresh squeezed lime – blended with Ice – Shaken and strained. “I will name it a Bombay Patricia, and put it on the board!” she proclaims. I tell her about Santos inventing the Margarita and we decide it is probably a true story. I say I will go back to the states and order a Patricia Bombay – then become exasperated when the bar owner says he’s never heard of it. ‘What? This drink is famous in Costa Rica!’

At some point a guy named Scott shows up in a loud tropical print shirt - being the rude obnoxious American that he is. He stays long enough to brag about how he sold his Mercedes and all his property in 10 different California locations and moved here – a young shapely Tica clings to the arm that is not waving madly with self absorbance. Scott  takes off quickly saying they can’t stay long (we are not fly enough or young enough or whatever) – we will see him again Sunday Night – minus the Tica - sitting lonely and drunk on a couch in a club in Manuel Antonio. On the way home over the Mountain we will see a cross honoring the flight of Greg Smith and his auto over the side of the mountain – and we will think about Scott and question the number of his days to meeting the same fate.

Dinner –

The Mis-Proportioned Face Girl
Let me begin this story with this: I had no idea how drunk Jim was. Maybe it was because I was feeling it myself, and had I known it, it would have made sense to me why Susanna’s husband asked if Jim was ok to drive. We only have to ride down a short gravel road home, no mountains or bridges, so we will be fine regardless. I am more full than drunk and we are reveling in a silent moment thinking about what amazing fortune we have had this night. I comment on how beautiful Ivanna is – then Jim perks up and says this – “Your face is proportioned much better than hers.”

Now I know I must be drunk, as the full revelation of what this means – what is bringing him to say this - will not hit me until I am lying next to my passed out husband in the tent. At this moment I can only think, “Now that’s an odd thing to say.” An hour later I realize he had been thinking about Ivanna’s beauty and probably trying to picture nailing her, feeling a tad guilty about it and then mustered up something to say to me to relieve his inebriated conscience. I think about kicking him under the covers and decide to laugh – it is truly funny. He wakes up an hour or so later and pukes in the toilet VIOLENTLY – ah Karma – you have got to love it.  I get up with him and soak my bra in cool water – we are missing washcloths – I tell him this is the first time since I have known him that I have seen him throw up from too much drinking and he tells me, “You don’t know what a good sign that is.”

We lay back down and I recall our first night in the tent and how he had told me that on his honeymoon with Jamie he was drunk at the wedding, then before they left the airport and then stayed that way throughout the trip. Ah how sad. Anyway the next morning he feels great of course and I am feeling a tad hung over, but it is nothing coffee on the beach won’t cure. This morning I enjoy calling him on the Ivanna thing – we have a good laugh – he officially gets put in the doghouse for an hour or so (this is a long while in Tico time) and for the rest of our lives he will be reminded of the mis-proportined face girl we met in Costa Rica. 

Later in the trip we are at hotel GAIA for tapas and a very very young and handsome waiter is serving us – probably the most guapo Tico I see on the trip. I tell Jim, “Love, I would love to tell you that something about you surpasses this handsome camarrero, but I am sorry, I can’t find anything wrong with him – oh wait, now I know – it’s his wallet, yours has much better proportions!!!!” Ha ha ha ha, paybacks are hell and again we laugh and laugh.

Tico Time
I can’t tell you how many times Jim and I just laughed and laughed and laughed – we enjoy each other’s company so much – it is really beyond explanation. Many people have asked if we got along on our trip. It is a valid question I suppose for most – this was the first time we had ever traveled a long distance or taken a big vacation together – but for us it was easy – we were there to be together so if Jim did not feel like doing something I was fine with it, and when I got ahead of myself wanting to create some ridiculous agenda - only a simple reminder that we are on Tico time did the trick. It took Jim a couple times of being reminded that it was ok to spend the money we had saved and that our friends had given us – I told him, “It’s not a question of if we are going to spend this money it is how.”  He asks me, “But we can put this in the Costa Rican jar when we get back.” And I say “I’m not leaving Costa Rica until it is all gone.” He smiles we go shopping. Good husband.

Next morning – Say Adios to Bahari Beach and Pack stuff and head out for River Raft – Bridge is out, play cards.

Get into Quepos – decide to pass on the rafting and find a hotel.

No Somos Turisticas
Check out the Mansion, Parador, Other Suave locale next door – decide on Mansion.

We emerge from the jungle into the luxury of La Mansion.

Two Bloody Mary’s on Porch - Dip in the Pool where we chat with the two waiters and Jim tells them all about the concerts he has been to, we talk about all kinds of stuff in Spanish  and then off to Quepos to Shop where we find “Gemela” up high on a shelf – she must come home with us – we then head to GAIA for appetizers and drinks. 

Owner of GAIA gets a C+

Lo Que Queriamos y Gemela Tambien
From GAIA – we head out to look for more dinner and turn into Serena’s at 7pm – Leave at 11 or so??  Still hungry but decide to eat eachother instead.

Breakfast we eat in our room and learn we can order anything off the menu gratis por desayuno– enjoy coffee but again are a tad rushed to take off for snorkeling.

We snorkel, are feeling a bit tired and come back to the hotel and change clothes to go find something to eat – we decide on Larry’s Place – suggestion from Christopher our new waiter/bartender at la Mansion.

El Peor La Calle, El Mejor La Comida
Ceviche, Lobster and Filet Mignon – at Larry’s Place

More energy leads us to explore the southern part of Manuel Antonio and do more shopping. Surf shops – Tico Bars and Artesians selling crafts.

More shopping – we negotiate 2 sets of wind chimes with two free shots of tequila and 2 kisses.

Rico Tico, Rico Tico, Baila Por Me – La Historia de Norma y Sus Amigos
Meet Tico friends – Norma, Alonzo, Guy from Peru, Tom the owner of Coconuts, Elliott the bartender and Willie a friend of Alonzo.  Story about life guard that does not swim.

Jim dances GREAT with Norma.

Norma takes us upstairs to Coconuts where we meet Alonzo her husband and Elliott the bartender and Tom the way over it American owner who gives Jim a lesson on the reality of Tico life and entrepreneurs in CR.

Alonzo and Willie begin to put the pressure on Jim to buy property and Norma does her part to guide me to guide Jim to give her husband a chance. At this point I did not, and maybe at no point did I ever, trust Norma fully – but it was an immediate attraction to her spirit and smile that sparked a growing awareness and interest in her through the night – she was a beautiful and smart young Tica – but how smart – smart enough to make me a fool and lead us down some dangerous path or just kind and smart enough to give an American woman a chance to be her friend, to share some wisdom, and some common laughs about uncommon lives. She cautioned me about buying early, about trusting early and I ensured her we were no foolish or rich Americans – that we were on our guard at all times.

I warned her about settling and trusting the wrong men. I encouraged her to reach far out beyond her expectations of herself and grab what she wanted, to forget about fear and to believe in her beauty and enjoy it, to be careful not to misuse the power that comes from it and to avoid the dangers it lures to her side. Her beauty called hither like a lighthouse beckoning parched, hungry sailors for as far as her light did shine. I know she did not fully appreciate this about herself – which is both to and against her advantage. Perhaps I loved her so much, as she made me feel beautiful and 21 again.  She related to me as though I were her age and not once did I feel old next to her. This was the beauty of her charming sweet nature.

The Heart Breaker
We all head to another bar --- Jim leaves with Alonzo to find an ATM – I get nervous but he returns quickly) (here again we see the Horrid American Scott and earn points with our new Tico amigos by giving him the cold shoulder). I enjoy a fun rib with Willie who declares he is a Player in his best English. He is a lively skinny, curly headed cute but by no means guapo young man of 20 –

“Willie, rompas muchas corazons de la mujeres, no?” le pregunto.

“Si,. Estoy un Jugador, A Player they call it in America,” me repueste con un medio sonrisa.

“Tu? No creo que. Tengo pocos mas anos que estes mujeres, y yo se que el unica problema para ti es que tu tienes miedo que algun mujer especial vaya a romper su corazon algun dia– entonces tiene ganas de romper con ellas antes de te lo hagan.”

Willie smiles a shy smile – “Claro, esta la verdad. Como sabes esto?”

“Demasiado experiencia con hombres como tu,” yo repuesto. Todos las chicas por la mesa se reieron.

Here we also ditch two women seeking a free ride on our wallets) Sweetly Elliot offers to split the tab with us and then we make plans to head to another bar then to a discotech. We took a short stop at Hotel Room to change clothes. I teach Norma the saying that all men follow their dicks.

We also at some point teach the word – spoiled – and learn it although I have forgotten it by now.

Livin’ la Impura Vida
Blast at Discotech. Jim’s Spanish is so good I can’t believe Elliott does not speak English. Jim and Elliott are like long lost brothers. Jim and Norma dance again – I grab un Tico and dance again – Jim and I dance – what a hoot -

Adios a Manuel Antonio
Wake up with hangover – have another Bloody Mary and leave La Mansion. Take time with Christopher to show him my bridal photos on CD. He tells me he loves me How sweet! We head back to the south part of Manuel Antonio to give Elliott the rest of our Herradura Tequila (about half a bottle) as a thank you por la noche pasado. Pero el no esta trabajando ahora. Decidimos a dar lo al jefe Tom a darle por nosotros. Escrito le mi poema a un papel y doy le nuestros information y un nota deciendo que bien tiempo tenimos atras la noche y hasta la madrugada con el y sus amigos. 

We head back to Larry’s place for Lunch – Jim has a burger I have a Shrimp burrito – home made sour cream ummmmmm…..

Jim y Yo Y Jesus Christo Encima de la Montanna
Things that did not make sense in CR included the “Montannas son Peligrosos” signs at the bottom of the mountain facing you after you just made it through them. Oh you get used to the tour buses and logging trucks coming around you or headed at you on the “highways,” you even get used to the random heads popping out of man holes as you break and swerve down the street in downtown San Jose. But I can’t figure out how the Ticos traverse the mountains. “There has got to be another road somewhere,” I am thinking as we are climbing climbing climbing up the mountain road that is about the width of the Town Lake bike path.

This time the 4000 foot drop off is on my side of the car. The pavement is wet and we are headed up – up – up into the clouds. The higher we go the more it rains and the foggier it gets – but then again it’s not fog – duh we are in a cloud. On one 90 degree turn headed down a hill (in the rain) we see a small beautifully painted sign “La vida esta preciosa.” ‘No Shit,’ I think.

I start to think about dying here. My mind jumps immediately to Victoria and her security – I have good life insurance and accidents pay even better. Oh dear lord why did I choose this place? Because you have to teach your children to live life without fear. To be adventurous and not be afraid to explore the world. That’s as far with the positive thinking that I could get.

I am still thinking like a tourist though -- ‘they will find our car, send our luggage home and our family will get our photos developed and see what a wonderful vacation we had – that we died happy. How sad, so so so so sad.’ When the truth hits home moments later – I really start to loose it.

But first I get the nerve to actually look out the window and see nothing but clouds. Next we pass over a pot hole just on the edge of the edge of the edge. I look down out the window as we pass it. I can see sky through it! Should our tire fall in – away we go. I am petrified and not even thinking about boulders dropping on us from the rain, or landslides etc.

Now I begin thinking like a Tica – Hello, if this car goes over the edge here – there is no town down there, no one will know. Jim and I will simply disappear off the face of the earth. Our family is not going to get our pictures, or our bodies, back. We are vulture food. Our family will never know what happened to us. Were we murdered, kid-napped, drowned in the sea? No one will ever ever know…..and God forbid the accident doesn’t immediately kill us.

And here in this revelation is where it gets really bad for me. Still I am only thinking, not vocalizing, these thoughts of course – I know I must keep Jim calm. Oddly I can’t look at him.  I want to imagine him calm and collected and I fear seeing panic in his eyes – I think if I see any fear there – combined with my present internal hysteria - I might loose it (and thus dear reader you would not be reading this right now).

With the above revelation I now begin to feel my breathing become very shallow. I am scared as hell and trying to remember that freaking out will not help Jim – who remarkably – is speaking to me in a very calm and collected voice. He assures me we will be fine.  I beg him, “Please please, be careful, please slow down! Please not so fast.” I feel a knot growing in my throat, ‘Oh my God I am on the verge of balling, having an anxiety attack, hyperventilating or passing out - none of which are going to help us get the f_ck off this mountain.’

Interestingly I should note, I don’t remember feeling horrible about dying, I didn’t like the idea – but it seemed inevitable at the time, and taking time to get caught up in selfish thoughts of woe is me seemed well, selfish – I was going to deal with it if it happened, it was the part that killed you that scared the shit out of me. In the meantime I needed to focus on the better option of staying alive – no matter how impossible it seemed.

I think of Bri and start to do Yoga breathing. I close my eyes and speak with God for a moment. Breathe deeper, slower, that’s right, that’s better. Then I wonder why Christine did not warn me about these mountains. After what seems an hour, but was probably only 15 minutes, we are headed down and along what seems to be a much safer area. “First I gave you my heart, then my hand in marriage, but I never realized I was putting my life in your hands,” I blubber at Jim taking a first long look at him and feeling a tad reborn from the mountain top.

He comments it has been quite a team-building exercise and a wonderful way to start a marriage. I smile and think there has got to be an easier way.

We begin joking about how there is probably a junk yard/cemetery at the bottom of that pass with thousands of dollars of collones, foreign money, designer sunglasses, cameras, cell phones, beach jewelry, wind chimes, wooden ashtrays, tooth fillings and of course crumpled rent a cars.  Then we see a cross in the center of another 90 degree turn, it reads Greg Smith. Poor Greg must have thought the worse was over and cracked another beer and pressed down on the accelerator a tad too soon.

Here is when I decide we are safe enough for me to start crying and shaking and cursing. I light a cigarette and roll down the window and wave at a cop on a motorbike. He waves back with an expression that I read as saying – ‘thank God we did not have to go on some wild goose chase looking for your tire tracks. Drive safe now.’ I’m sure my eyes say ‘Next time we are taking a plane across the f-ing mountains!’ 

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Another question. Why does Atenas have Tropical Nurseries selling the same plants you can pluck out of jungle – hum.

Another reminder - Make sure your life guard “is the one that swims!”

A joke – Why did the Costa Rican chicken cross la calle? To get the F_ck out the way of the 18 wheeler.

Why did the 18 wheeler cross the 100 year old rebar bridge? Because they made some kick-ass Costa Rican bridges 100 years ago.


Checking into The Gran Hotel of Costa Rica – Same Room!!

Nice dinner that did not compare and was overpriced but still wonderful. Piano player plays What a  Wonderful World  - I cry.  Drinks with Robert the only black person I spoke with there – he was the bartender – finally Jim drags me back to the room – we go to sleep and head to the airport and a long and uneventful trip back to the states. Me llorre mucho.

YAY YAY YAY we see Victoria at the Airport – she came in to meet us – big hugs – lots of stories from all of us – and we are headed home – we brought the rain and we all wade into Pizza Hut to hear how Victoria’s week went while we were gone.

The philosophy of living un Pura Vida
It is easy to get caught up in the dream of living a different life. Many times during our stay Jim and I compared our odyssey to that of Odysseus. How he became lured by the Sirens and forgot all sense of time and obligation – how he forgot what was truly important in his life – lost in the beauty of his surrounding, the women and the wine and the music. We thought then how it was a good analogy for the American finding this place and never going home. I realize now the inverse is more accurate.

I worried on the plane that the all consuming desire to return with all we own and live the rest of our lives in this beautiful, pure and peaceful county would slowly be worn away when we returned to the states – that it would begin to feel only like a dream that we were ever there and that each memory or treasured moment would fade from us day by day upon our return. I wanted to be sure that we would follow this dream and go back – that we would not let fear or apathy drown this crystal clear vision we had for our future.

I realize now that life in the states is the deception. It is here where you forget what matters most. It is the inundation of trappings, advertisements, television, need this, have that, fear this, that warps the mind into paralysis and soon you forget what peace feels like, what beauty looks like, the potential of your taste buds, the ability to be in THIS moment only. Muscles get so wound up with the tension that oozes in from a million directions and numbs you all over. Soon you forget what it feels like to breathe fresh air, to calm the mind, to lay in bed and only listen to the world around you – here if you listen you here the alarm, the hum of traffic, a telephone ringing. Here the birds cry, they don’t sing. The dogs beg, they don’t bark their laughter.  Yes this is where Odysseus got lost. In all the things he did not need, all the days that flew by and melted together. All the quick hellos and goodbyes, the how are you’s and then off to work to live to work. 

If we are lost on our journey – we are lost here – not in the dream of Costa Rica.

I cried when we had to leave – not because I hate my life here at all – but because I felt I could live at my full potential there. Because to do so would mean leaving my friends to live in the States chasing the unattainable rainbow I would see every morning.  I cried because I wanted to return only long enough to snatch up Victoria and Sam and bring them to this world – to give them so many more years in Paradise that I would ever have. But I understood that beyond the financial and legal hurdles – you don’t just yank a kid up and expect them to appreciate and understand this adventure. I know we will need to bring them back with us and let them experience it for themselves – perhaps they will fall in love with it, maybe not. I also know that if we could do this Victoria and Sam would still need to get their education in the states, and become people of the world – outside the jungle paradise.

I can already feel the dream slipping, the thoughts of being away from friends and family, how to make a living, the obvious dangers of being older and preyed up living there. I don’t want to wait 10 years. We need to go while Jim and I are both still young and strong. But life truly won’t allow this – I can possibly imagine a 5 year plan.

It seems there is truly nothing Jim and I can’t do – once we set our minds to it.