Some Pretty Pictures from the Patio

Everything depends upon


a sky by Turner,








a rainbow,











and a new flower.





Sorry, no wheelbarrow.

Orchid, Rudy and Their Floating Hotel

Last Thursday, Scott and I drove to the city of Puntarenas to meet Orchid and Rudy, whose cruise ship was in port for the day. We triple checked to make sure we were heading for the right place (always learn from mistakes) and met them at 9:00 am. As this is their 38th cruise, they have already explored the sites offered by the day trip companies and expressed a desire to see our place and the city of San Ramon. While waiting for them, Scott and I were approached by the usual entrepeneurs who earn their livings at cruise ship docks by offering tours and souvenirs to the visiting tourists. It actually felt kind of cool to say, "No gracias, yo vivo aqui". Of course, one actually says: "yo bibo aqui", as there is no V sound in Costa Rican Spanish. In fact, one of my more annoying pleasures is trying to get Costa Ricans to pronounce the V sound. They cannot do it but always are bery baliant in their efforts.
We had a great day with our guests. Rudy offered many useful suggestions regarding renovations; I could tell he was itching to actualize some of his plans, but, alas, my lone tool, a crescent wrench left him with few options for action. We strolled the city, visited the local museum and Scott and I were treated to a delicious lunch. A relaxing day with friends.. or so we thought.
We decided to leave for the trip back a bit early as I wanted to make sure the drive home from Puntarenas would be in daylight. The ship was due to leave at 7:00 pm so passengers were told to be on the floating hotel (which accommodates 5000 passengers and crew and looks like the Vancouver Convention Centre afloat). We left at 3:30 all set for a leisurely drive to the coast.
About 1/2 hour into the drive, all road movement ceased. We pieced together from others in the line up that there had been a fatal accident involving a van and a semi about 2 kilometers south in the direction we were heading. Time proceeded (as it usually does) and no signs of progress. Watching the watch.. Five o'clock. Intrepid Scott decided to walk to the front of the traffic to gather information. Time passed. 5:30. Finally, traffic began to flow; we picked Scott up kilometers from where we had been, passed the scene of the accident and managed to drop Orchita and Rudy at the dock at 6:15. No worrys, minutes to spare.
We drove home in the darkness, keenly aware that our inconvenience meant so little compared to the impact on others who lost a loved one who was hurrying home from work to be with his family.

It Must Have Been the Wrong Place but, It Must.....

One of the guilty pleasures about having company in a foreign country, is the opportunity to transform oneself from the reliant to the relative self-reliant. With Scott visiting, this seemed like the perfect time to dazzle with my local knowledge. After all, I knew the walk downtown, could locate the carnicero, panadero y el fabricante de vela. My time to shine. Following our day at Arenal, we chose to travel a greater distance to see Gary Lindquist, a former Richmond teacher who has live in Costa Rica for eleven years. I have never met Gary but have communicated with him on a number of occasions over the internet. He lives with his Costa Rican wife in the beach community of Playa Hermosa where they run a company which provides advice and assistance to those who wish to relocate here. I phoned him the morning prior to the day we left to get detailed instructions. I thought I might have awakened him as the directions seemed a bit odd, but I knew where Playa Hermosa was and teemed with confidence that once there, my ever increasing Spanish vocabulary would stand us in good stead. Off we went, to the Province of Puntarenas on the Pacific Coast, my first visit to a Costa Rican beach town.
The drive was long with many delays as there are major highway improvement projects taking place throughout the country. Like many countries, Costa Rica has decided that infrastucture spending is one key way to boost a sagging economy. Finally, we passed Jaco Beach (party central for visitors wishing to indulge) and turned the corner to see miles of sandy beach with only about a dozen people scattered throughout. Paradise for sun worshippers; however, no sign of the Century 21 office where we were supposed to take a left hand turn. In fact, no sign of anything resembling a town. Finally we found a small real estate office, oddly enough, Remax, not Century 21. I must have been right; Gary had been half asleep.
Describing the directions I had gleaned from Gary, the helpful realtors informed us that indeed, Playa Hermosa is a beach community on the Pacific Coast; however,there are two such places of the same name. Apparently, the one we had in mind is a much larger Playa Hermosa located in Guanacaste only four hours to the North providing the roads are free of delays.
We had a great day, despite the directional problems. We swam, ate lunch in Jaco, where we watched, in our Canadian self-restraint, the antics of American tourists drunk at noon, loud, obnoxious and inappropriate.
So much for my fearless feelings of confidence; better to be humble than humbled!

North to Arenal

Today, we went for a trip about 100 km north of San Ramon to the Arenal Volcano. Prior to 1968, the volcano was draped in dense vegetation and had only one crater with any activity. That all changed on July 29 when it erupted. Between the 29th and 31st, three new craters were formed from the activity that blew rocks upon two nearby towns causing the deaths of 87 persons. It is still active; its force is audible, and in the evening, the red glare emanating from its core is visible.
We climbed to the view point where we could see the steamy evidence of recent flows and the magnificence of Lake Arenal, a man made water body which was created to take advantage of the fact the the volcano area supplies 70% of all water in the Arenal basin.
Despite the fact that, at the beginning of the trail, we came upon a very important looking sign translated into several languages that warned we were entering a possible danger area, we two intrepid explorers,(along with a number of people from tour buses), risked life and limb to navigate the ever so dodgy volcanic rocks. We marveled at our bravery as well as the vistas.
On the drive back, a young Asian woman flagged us down and offered us $10 (US!) if we would drive her and her three friends back to the Tabacon Hotel where the two couples were staying. Apparently, the concierge told them it was a twenty minute walk to the Volcano. We had passed them on the way in about one and half hours earlier. They never made it to the volcano, their feet were blistering and they were exhausted. I suppose time is relative; twenty minutes to one person might translate into two hours to another. I tried in vain to get Scott's attention as I saw this as an easy $20-$25, but he, being the nice person he is, already invited them in free of charge.

Scott Arrives; Road Graded; Coincidence??

Scott arrived late in the evening on Thursday after a few unexpected changes to his travel itinerary. He was originally to fly from Vancouver to Los Angeles to San Jose with Alaskan Air and arrive at 8:45. However, there were mechanical problems with the plane a YVR, so they shifted him to American Airlines through Dallas with arrival at 10:00 pm. All was well, as I picked him up at the airport, and we arrived in San Ramon about 11:30.
Scott's arrival coincided with a big buzz in the barrio. As much as we are fond of Scott, the excitement had little to do with him. The rutted, pot holed gravel road was graded from the bottom of the hill to several houses past mine. What was bumpy is now smooth. I have pieced together that there is a neighbourhood meeting next Wednesday evening to discuss what the next steps are. I am assuming that if we want the road paved, there will be some kind of levy per home. Undoubtedly, a lot of animated discussion and carefully planned positions will emerge, none of which I will comprehend. But, I will nod politely, at times animatedly and smile unabashedly.
Unfortunately, the grading was accompanied by major winds, an outcome of a Caribbean storm which deluged the coast. The combination of grading and gusting resulted in the largest amount of continual dust and dirt deposits in the driveway and the house imaginable. I kept trying to convince Scott that this was not the norm, but I fear, to no avail. More of our travels upcoming!

Idiot Wind

With acknowledgments to Dylan who wrote the song that inspired the title of this entry, even though, I am sure he meant to be more metaphorical than I.
Today is warm, but the wind is gusting ferociously at setanta y cinquo metros de Bicicletos Super Pro, Santiago, San Ramon. This is our legal address as relative proximity to geographical markings delineate individual domiciles. I think I am beginning to understand why I have never seen a letter carrier around here. Having to rely on a meter stick to complete one's route must slow down the mail somewhat. But, I digress.
Given the wild west, or east wind, (it is hard to tell when your bearings are based upon the bicycle fabrication plant), I decided to go for a trek up the hill and take in the views of the city and surrounding countryside. At the crest, it was difficult to keep balance as the air from Bill O'Reilly's lungs had nothing on the force of the Central Valley gales. While turning around into the wind to greet two women walking their dogs, my very cool, (as you can tell by my profile picture) snap on, ultra violet, stain resistant, dengue fever protective sunglasses flew off, never to be found again. My search in the tall grasses was futile, although, I did manage to confuse totally a landscaper who assumed I was an amateur horticulturalist closely examining the local flora. My heart did leap a few times when I spotted dark objects (despite the glare, having no snap on, ultra....), only to be disappointed to discover they were pieces of broken beer bottle glass.
I am trying to blame all my incompetence here on the language barrier. Truth be told, I lack at least as much competence in Vancouver. I do find it comforting to have an excuse, however. Yesterday, a nice young couple from up the street clanged on the gates of my fortress. For some reason, (language difficulties), I did not ask them in but rather spoke to them through the bars as if I were in solitary, pleading for water. After a few minutes, it was clear to me they were advising that next Wednesday, at 6 in the evening, a tractor was going to be working around our houses. I thanked them graciously for their neighbourly news, and as they were leaving, asked if the tractor meant the road was to be paved. They looked at me as people often do at home when I attempt to describe a mechanical problem or try to explain why Disco was the generative motivation for gangster rap. Turns out, they were inviting me to a neighbourhood gathering. I think.
Scott will be arriving tomorrow evening for eleven days, so I will have him go to the soiree before me wearing overalls and carrying a shovel, just make sure the event is tractorless.