M. Rick Hendricks

     It’s been several weeks since my last post, and the time has flown by.  All to soon the Costa Rican adventure will come to a close.  It is not a day toward which I am looking with anticipation.  This has been an experience that I will treaure for the rest of my life.  Although the language is still a bit of a barrier, it is clear to me that the people here have taken me into their hearts and allowed me to become a part of their lives, and they have become a part of mine.  What an amazing thing!  To discover friends across the boundaries that normally divide and find a kinship that transcends all else.  lt is clear to me that:  Yo estoy anamorando con Costa Rica.    (I am falling in love with Costa Rica)

     Since my last post I have been studying very hard.  Every day following the classes, I spend an average of three more hours doing extra exercises and trying to get it to sink in.  I am understanding much more than I am able to express.  I am even able to decipher some of what is being said on the Spanish language television!  If I see it in print, I get about 95% and am generally able to figure out the words I don’t know   from the context of the story.  I am very pleased with the  progress I have made so far.  I only wish I had about  three more months here.  I may have to return for a refresher course!

     On the weekends I have taken advantage of several travel opportunities.  So, I have seen two different active volcanoes, and spent time on the beautiful Caribbean coast, in the village of Puerto Viejo. Each experience has been rich for their own special reasons.

     Volcan Poaz is located relatively near to where I am staying.  Some friends from the school and I took a one-day excursion to the volcano and to the Peace Gardens and Waterfalls located near to the volcano.  Of course, since Costa Rica is so small, nothing is very far away from anything else. 

     There are 112 volcanoes in Costa Rica, four of which are still ‘active’.  Poaz is ’active’ but has not experienced an eruption for many years.  For this reason, you are allowed to hike to the very rim of the crater.  From there you look very far down to observe  a large lake and a multitude of steam vents from which there is the constant release of mildly sulfurous gas.  The aroma is not anywhere near as strong as I had expected, however.  The lake at the bottom has a greenish hue.  The day we were there clouds covered the entire mountain and when we reached the rim we were engulfed by the clouds and not able to see anything.  Then, as suddenly as they had come, they dispersed and the entire crater was clear to our view.  Very impressive.

     From there we traveled to a coffee plantation.  Since I don’t drink coffee, the experience of tasting the different flavors produced there was lost on me.  However, my friends both said that they had seldom tasted anything so rick and flavorful.  Costa Rica is at the epicenter of research on the coffee bean.  People from all over the world come here to be involved in the research and to glean the knowledge gained here about how to grow a better coffee plant. So, when you are drinking that ‘rich Columbian blend’ - they learned how to  make it right here in San Jose at the coffee reseach center.

      Seeing how the coffee is grown, harvested, and processed was fascinating.  The separate plants are laden with beans, cluster upon cluster covering each branch, and each bean matures at a different rate than all the others.  This means that harvesting has to be done the old fashioned way - picking one bean at a time from the cluster, at the moment that it has ripened, and leaving the rest of the cluster untouched.  No machines possible in this process.  I cannot imagine how labor-intensive it must be.  Then the ripened beans are laid out on a concrete slab the size of a small warehouse, where they are raked by hand, using long, wooden rakes, and allowed to dry until ready to be processed.  The rest of the process is done inside the processing plant.  The aroma drifts on the still air and is absolutely delicious.  I did try to taste a couple of the blends, but, as I said, the tasting was wasted on me.  To me it was just coffee. I did, however, enjoy sampling  a rather large quantity of the chocolate-covered coffee beans. 

     Very flavorful - and not a bit fattening.  Right!

     From there we traveled to the Peace Gardens and Waterfalls.  We started at the top of the mountain and hiked down very steep trails cut into the jungle, past several waterfalls which cascaded from the rocks, falling an average of 85 to 125 feet into the poos belowl.  At a few, we were able to climb underneath the falls. Very beautiful, and very loud!  And not very safe.  I was surprised they let us do it. 

     The experience at the Peace Gardens included several habitats for different species, including frogs, butterflies, a massive aviary, a monkey habitat, humming birds, and, of course, snakes. 

     In the aviary, the birds flew free, unfettered by bars or cages.  This meant you had the opportunity to have a close encounter with a tucan, if he deigned to stoop to the level of humans.  They appear very aloof and tend to stay just out of reach.  I think they tolerate humans, but just barely. 

     The parrots, on the other hand, seem more than eager to crowd your space.  One, in particular, a beautiful bird colored red, yellow, blue, and green, with piercing black eyes, had learned a phrase or two - in spanish, of course.  He said a name - either his or one of the trainers, I assume, and continued  ____________ es quapo!  ____________ es guapo!  ‘Guapo’ is spanish for ‘handsome’.  He decided my shoulder was a suitable perch for a few moments.  His talons dug into my shoulder and he squawked loudly as everyone crowded around to offer him a morsel.  I was just thankful he didn’t consider ears as part of his diet.

     There are three species of monkey that inhabit Costa Rica.  Spider monkeys are very active and love to jump from tree-top to tree-top, hanging by their long tails while peeling and eating the fruit from the tree.  Howlers are very territorial and announce very loudly their displeasure at having their space  breached by anything or anyone.  You can hear their cries for several miles.  They aren’t very big, so their howls make them seem much more foreboding than they really are.   Cappucines are small and white-faced and extremely intellegent - maybe one of the most intellegent of all species.  One little cappucine really put on a show for the tourists.  All of the monkeys were behind plexiglass.  He had chosen a perch right up against the glass.  He would disappear below sight  for a moment, and return with a piece of pinapple which he would then proceed to eat with great vigor and right up against the glass, allowing those of us with cameras to get a great bunch of pictures.  We all crowded in for a good shot.  He seemed to enjoy the attention.

     He did this several times in a row and until a good-sized crowd had gathered and were as close as we could get for the pictures. He disappeared again, then he emerged from his hiding place, but this time, instead of a piece of pinapple, he held in his hand a rock about the size and shape of a softball, which he hurled without warning, and with tremendous force,  into the plexiglass.  This resulted in a very loud ‘bang!’ and shrieks from the crowd who jumped back in terror.  This was evidently great fun for the little guy, who appeared to fall over himself in glee.  I watched him do this  for three separate crowds.  He never tired of the joke.  Neither did the crowds.

     We finished the day with a boat trip on Rio Sarapiqui, where we saw more monkeys, lots of iguanas, and birds of various species, including one particular  king-fisher who had great success as we watched.  He would hang upside down, merely inches from the surface of the water, and suddenly release from his branch and disappear beneath the surface, emerging every time with a beakful of fish.   

      The next weekend I decided to take a public bus across the country to the Caribbean coast.  This was a great experience.  The cost was unbelievably cheap.  Less than $7.00 US for the entire trip.  I had an assigned seat, but, just like the airlines, the bus had overbooked by more than a dozen people.  This meant that 12 or 13 had to stand for the entire four-hour trip.  It is not in my nature to see a woman standing while I sit, so I offered my seat to a woman standing near me.  She decilined, but I finally convinced her that I needed to stand part of the time.  So we switched back and forth.  She turned out to be a very interesting lady who has left everything that she knows in Arizona, and decided to open a shop to do therapuic massage in Puerto Viejo.  She doesn’t speak a word of spanish, and came with only a few dollars and her massage table,  but is taking a chance that here she will find what she seeks in life.  More power to her!  I hope she finds her heart and continues to live her dream.

     Puerto Viejo is the epitome of the heart of the Afro-Caribbean culture.  Very laid back.  Very tranquil.  Immersed in the reggae beat that drums like a heartbeat beneath everything.  I stayed in a little hotel that was literally covered by the forest.  Again, no glass.  No screens.  Just bars across the windows which were open to the humid air.  Mosquito netting surrounded the bed.  The air was still, moved only slightly by the small ceiling fan, which provided welcome and necessary relief.  The sound of the waves were again a constant background noise.  At night the ranas (tree frogs) serenaded until dawn.  Very calming.

     Speaking of calming.  The second day I was approached by a guy about my age who inquired, ‘Habla ingles?’  I answered, ‘Si, hablo ingles.’  We established that I was from Oklahoma.  He asked how long I had been in Costa Rica.  I told him.  He told me he’d been here for 19 years and had a business as an ‘herbal therapist’.  I thought this probably meant he had did aroma therapy.  I was wrong.  He said, “My therapy includes partaking of a certain very potent herb.  I have some with me if you would like to partake.’  I declined, but others did not.  I watched three guys passing a joint around as they talked.  No one seemed to be the least upset by the display.  Just part of the culture.  That night, at a restaurant, as we were listening to some outstanding reggae and calypso music, the aroma of marijuana wafted through the room on the sea breeze.  Pura Vida has different meaning to different people. 

     Puerto Viejo is a very interesting place.  One might easily picture oneself living in a little shack among the palms, making a living (such as might be needed) selling sand dollars to la touristas. What would you need?  A bicyle and a hammock and some shelter from the rain.  Hmmmmm.  

     Ah, well, back to reality.

     Volcan Arenal was my latest adventure.  It is a very active volcano.   So much so that no one is allowed within several miles of the mountain itself.  It was formed some 7000 years ago by a massive eruption in the surface of the earth which pushed the earth into a nearly-perfect cone-shaped mountain 3800 meters high.  There were many eruptions that followed, but the mountain had been relatively quiet for several hundred years. 

     Then, in 1968 there were a series of four different eruptions, resulting in the very tip of the mountain being blown off and several thousand people being immediately covered with scalding volcanic ash,  in the little village just seven kilometers to the east.  On the other side of the mountain was another village which was the same distance from the volcano.  It escaped any damage.  It was subsequently renamed Fortuna because of the fortune they recieved of being spared. 

     Arenal means ’sand’ and the volcano is named such because as it spews molten rock, the bolders crash down the side and crush the rock into lava ’sand’.  During the day it is difficult to see the activity, but at night, when darkness surrounds, you can watch the molten red rocks leaving a tail of red behind them as they bound down the side of the mountain.  Tremors are frequent.  I could swear that I felt one, but it might just have been my overactive imagination.  This is still a young land, and still in active formation.  The volcano itself increases in height about two meters per year.  No one knows when the next major eruption might occur.  Yet the people continue to live in Fortuna, just seven kilometers away, and believe that nothing will occur to disrupt their chosen life. 

     Because I have become more comfortable with the language, I have become much better about risking meeting and talking to people.  On  this trip I met a very interesting and delightful woman who was vacationing in Costa Rica from Rio de Janero, where she is the editor of a large newspaper.  She was trying to work on her spanish (Portuguese is the official language of Brazil).  So we helped each other by speaking to each other in spanish as much as possible and we had a wonderful time eating out, hiking in the forest, and discussing politics and religion and just enjoying each other’s company. 

         I think I am liking the person that this experience is helping to shape.  I have met some wonderful people, new friends from all around the world.  I have no idea where any of this will lead, but I am beginning to feel like this land - still in formation.  I suppose I have always known that - but the experience of being here has given new energy to that process.   

      At the risk of sounding hokey, maybe the tremor I felt was not the ground around the volcano shaking, but the plates of my life shifting to form something new.  

      Who knows where all of this will lead. 

      Isn’t life a trip!

     Yes, I know, it’s been a few weeks.  I am really taking this study thing seriously, and the more I am into it, the harder it seems to get.  So give me some slack.

     That,  and the fact that I’ve taken some absolutely amazing trips, about which I am going to tell you.

     Starting with my trip two weeks ago to Tortuguero.

     Tortuguero is a thin strip of land, only a little more than 200 meters wide at it’s widest point, which is located on the northern tip of Costa Rica on the Caribbean side, just south of Nicaragua.  It is completely separated from the mainland of Costa Rica by a fresh-water canal which is open to the Caribbean Sea at both ends.  The whole island is a national refuge for three different species of sea turles, which return to this tiny spot each year to lay their eggs.  The mama sea turtles are huge.  When I finally caught sight of one in the black of a caribbean night, I was amazed at its size.  If you want to know what one looks like, either look on the web, or rent a copy of Finding Nemo and check out Crush and his dad. 

     To get to Tortuguero involved a long bus ride through some of the most beautiful scenery  I have ever seen.  Costa Rica is a relatively young land, which, resulting from  shifts in the techtonic  plates and intense volcanic activity.  There are 112 volcanos in Costa Rica, four of which are still active. 

     The land juts up from the sea and is completely covered in vegetation.  There are ridges on ridges, and ridges behind ridges, of lush green. From time to time it is completely englulfed in the clouds, as were we when we traveled through the cloud forest.   The varied vistas are  beautiful to the eye and the climate change from top to bottom and one side to the other is remarkable.  When we left the central valley we did so in another driving rain, the daily activity of the rainy season.  On the caribbean side it rains very little, in comparison, but the humidity takes your breath away and leaves you dripping after even the slightest movement.  Once you quit moving, however, you cool off fairly quickly.  This is surely the reaon for the multitude of hammocks stretched between trees and in prominence on the porches of many of the houses.  It’s not about being laid back.  It’s about survival!

     Following the bus ride was a two hour boat ride up the canal to our destination, the Hotel Laguna.  But on this island there are no high-rise condominiums.  Rather, individual huts that blend into the surroundings, engulfed by forest (jungle) and on property situated  between two very different bodies of water.  The Caribbean is as smooth as glass and fairly whispers.    The canal a muddy thru-way teeming with fish, aligators, and caman. The trees on either side are alive with  birds, monkeys, snakes, tree frogs, iquanas, and probably a million different varieties of flowers and fungi.  You find yourself surrounded by the uniqueness and feel a bit out of place, as though you are the alien in this place — and perhaps not part of the original plan. 

     The reason people go to Tortuguera is not the beach.  It’s black sand is off limits for swimming.  The reason for the restriction is that the presence of the turtles, especially during the laying season, brings in every sort of predator, any one of whom might find human flesh a welcome change of diet.  Besides those, the turtles, themselves, can bite a leg off with a single snap.  You don’t want to mess with mama! 

     But the beach is wonderul, none-the-less, and the people of the island paradise don’t seem to mind the restrictions.  We watched several fishing one afternoon, their gear was just a plastic soft-drink bottle wound with fishing line and with a piece of bacon,  on a hook,  for bait.  Despite such meager fishing tackle, they were pulling them in like there was no tomorrow.  Everyone seemed to have dinner well in hand for another night. 

      Of course, just walking along the sand was wonderful.  Feeling the rhythms of the waves in your bones was very calming and just looking out over sea, with the sun setting behind you, was very reassuring.

     We took boat trips downs several of the canals that snake into the undergrowth on the Costa Rican side of the canal.  Howler monkeys screamed at us in the boats, and seldom ceased to sound off during  the night, their cries echoing over the waters.  Tree frogs, their red eyes glowing, were seldom seen, but kept up a constant hum every night.  Of course,  the sound of the sea just out my back window (no glass, just a screen) lulled me to sleep at night. 

     We saw three different species of monkey on Tortuguero.  Howlers are relatively large, and  black and very noisy when their territory is in jeapordy, which seems to be the case often.  Capucines are small and quick and their white faces very animated.  Spider monkeys move through the tops of the trees with amazing dexterity and they are very mischievous.  One perched on a branch above our heads on one trail and proceeded to pick and peel the fruit he was after, deftly dropping the empty peels on our heads.  Maybe he didn’t know what he was doing, but I’m not convinced of that. 

     Watching the monkeys navigate their highways in the tops of the trees brought to mind that wonderful poem by Robert Frost in which he explains why the birch trees are bent.  It’s not ice storms, he insists, but the result of a young boy climbing to the very top and then riding the supple trees to the ground, leaving them permanently curved toward the breast of the earth.  He closes the poem with the line, “One could do worse than be a swinger of birches…”  Seeing the monkeys made we wish for the opportunity to ride the trees as they do, so effortlessly and with such seeming joy.

      The main city on the island is Tortuguero.  It is a thin little burg filled with tiny shops and bouncing with afro-caribbean culture and music.  The inhabitants of that part of Costa Rica are the result of the mixture of indigenous people with African slaves, brought to Costa Rica to work the banana crops.  Strains of reggae music are everywhere, and the laid-back life-style part of what you feel while there.   Those who live there get around soley by boat.  Water taxis are available several places in town, but every house has a boat or canoe lying outside, and most of them have hammocks on the porches  (see above for explanation of hammocks).  The people themselves are very warm and open, and their dark faces break easily into wide grins. 

     Back to the turtles.  Our reason for being there in the first place. 

     I can’t show you pictures of the turtles because they only venture in from the ocean in the dead of night, dragging their huge bodies along the sand to the jungles edge, leaving trails that look like jeep tracks, where they dig massive nests in the wet earth, and lay about 100 eggs, covering them over with the sand before dragging themselves back into the sea.  It has to be an arduous journey.  Their bodies are made for the ocean, after all.  Land is not their element.  Yet every year they continue to return to do it all over again.  After about 50 days, the eggs will hatch, if they haven’t already been found and eaten  by the many animals that crave the delicacy.  It is against the law for humans, of course, to dig up the eggs.  We did find one nest that was uncovered and the tiny turtles still alive within.  (I posted the pictures on Facebook if you are interested.)

     If they survive the nesting  period, one night there will be movement in the sand and then the race for life begins in earnest as the baby turtles, only a couple of inches wide, drag their tiny bodies toward the sea.  In the morning we could track the progress as we followed thousands of tiny tracks, a few of which, we could see, actually made it to the place where the tide had been.  Those few might have a chance.  Most of the tracks, however,  ended abruptly in a blot of sand, evidence that someone else had fulfilled their life-need for food that night.  Only about one percent of the turtles will actually make  it to adulthood.  Nature may seem cruel, but everything works together so that all may survive.

     One night we took a ‘turtle tour’ which consisted of standing in complete darkness on a spot along the beach, until one of  the massive mamas was spotted.  Our guide would flash an infared light so we could navigate towards her,  and once there, we had to stay a bit of distance behind the mother as she dragged herself to the place where she would dig the nest.  Once there, however, she paid no attention to us as we gathered around and watched her lay her eggs and deftly cover them.  Before she finished we scurried back out of the way, then followed her on her long and arduous trip back to the safety of the waters.  The whole process took about two hours, and was a remarkable thing to witness.  It is something I will never forget.

     The tree frogs were numerous, but very secretive.  They blend so well with the background that I’m sure I walked by hundreds without ever seeing them.  I mangaged to see four or five different varieties.  There are many in Costa Rica.  The red-eyed tree frogs come out only at night and harmonize with the other insects in their nightly serenades.  There are several poisonous varieties of tree frog in Costa Rica.  I didn’t see any of them.  You can recognize them immediately because of their bright red coloring.  It’s nature’s way of saying, “This is one bad dude.  Approach at your own risk!”

     Iguanas and other lizards ran wild everywhere.  I saw two different kinds before I even got to my room.  They move so quickly and blend in so well.  We did see several iquanas on our tours.  The females are a pale green and loll on the branches of trees.  One male we saw had a bright orange tint to the crown of his head and the spines along his back.  It was his way of saying to the females, “Hey babe, wanna party!” 

     I actually shared a room with one of the several varieties of lizards.  This one was only about four inches long and contented himself with staying on the screen of my bungalow.  He was a tiny basilisk lizard.  They have the nickname  “Jesus lizard” because they run on their back feet and move with such speed that they can skim across the surface of the water.  The little guy in my room checked in with me.  That is, he was there when I got to the room.  He was quiet and content to maintain his vigil at the window.  When I was packed and ready to leave, as I got to the door, he suddenly was there, and slipped out the door in front of me. 

      There were human companions on the journey, as well. One of the highlights of my trip to Tortuguero was meeting a group of new friends.  Pablo and Alex are brothers from Costa Rica who were very helpful and worked with me a little on my Spanish.  Both work in computers and we had a great time together talking and laughing.  Even the difference in our ages and the barrier of language couldn’t get in the way of our fun.  Ancilla is a wonderful girl from Vancouver, whose family immigrated from China.  She speaks English and Cantonese, but no Spanish.  She’s traveled a lot, but always with friends.  This was a new kind of adventure for her, and we felt an immediate kinship.  The four of us were like the ‘four amigos’ for the weekend.  We developed a wonderful friendship which I am determined we will maintain into the future.  We have actually gotten together since the weekend when Ancilla came back through San Jose on her trip back home to Vancouver. 

     Isn’t it amazing that often it is the things you don’t expect to happen  that end up being,  perhaps, the most meaningful?  What a wonderful journey life can be.

     Tortuguero was another reminder, for me, of the intricacy of creation, and the absolute necessity to work hard to keep it from going away.  I wish everyone could experience some of what I have already seen.  Experiencing the symbiosis of the world and it’s peoples, and seeing how some, in places like this, are commited to maintaining the beauty and wonder of it, makes me want to work all the harder to make sure that we, as caretakers of creation, don’t mess it up. 

     My sermon for the day. 

     And that, my friend, is only a small taste of what is happening with me.  I’ve got to get back to my studies, now, but promise to tell you about my trip to one of the active volcanos and what one disgruntled white-faced monkey had to say — in another installment.

     Peace, my friends.

     I’ve arrived during the rainy season.  During the months of September and October the average rainfal in Costa Rica is about 12 inches per month.  Today is typical.  In the morning the sun is shining brightly and the walk to the school leaves me dripping with persperation because, though it is not necessarily hot, it is very humid.  Usually the day stays sunny until about the time class is over, at noon. 

      Then the clouds roll over the mountains like tanks assaulting a fortress.  The air becomes slightly cooler, and then comes the rain.  Sometimes it is soft and gentle for a while,  but when it  gets wound up, which it usually does, it can really get going.  The rain beats hard on the roofs of the homes.  When I am sitting on the patio of my house, with it’s coregated plastic roof, the noise is sometimes so deafening that I can hardly think.  Yesterday it rained so hard that the narrow street between the houses was like a raging river.  There is are no  spaces between houses, and no lawns at all, in the section of town where i am living, so all the water flows to the same place.  Fortunately the homes are built on the hills and everything flows downhill from here.  I don’t know what it might be like for those at the bottom, but the storm drainage system seems to keep up with it all very well. 

     Today I made it into the ‘multi-plaza’ just as the rain began.  This plaza has a large space filled with beautiful plants and open to the sky as you walk through the door.  The rain began to beat hard, and the thunder to roll, and then It began to hail.  My impression is that this is not a normal occurance here in Costa Rica because children and adults alike were rushing to the open space to pick up the tiny ice crystals.  They seemed amazed. and I’m sure the children were asking, “Can I take it home?” 

     Sometimes the rain will slack off and the day brighten again, but most of the time so far, once it has started raining it hangs around and continues to fall, sometimes lightly and other times more heavily, into the night.  It makes sleeping, of course, absolutely wonderful.  At my home in Oklahoma I have electronic ‘rain’ via a convenient little white noise machine to help  me get to sleep at night. 

     Here it happens naturally.  I like natural better. 

     Usually I’m so worn out from struggling with the language that I end up taking a short nap after I’ve walked the 15 blocks from class.  If it’s raining my room is nice and dark and the cool breeze sifts through to lull me into a short but very refreshing sleep.  When it’s not raining, I still find that there is enough breeze to relax me.  I don’t think there are many air conditioners in the homes.  At least I’ve seen no evidence of any.  The temperature is pretty much the same year round, though.  The difference might be the humidity.

     Learning a new language is tough!  Perhaps if I’d had some background it might not seem so, but coming, as I have,  with absolutely no formal training in Spanish, I find it a real struggle.  I have always had great appreciation and admiration for the students at the college who come from their home countries to study in the U.S. and who must learn a whole new way of life language.  Now my admiration has increased because I’m feeling what some of them must feel when they try to do anything and are assaulted by a barrage of words, only a few of which they may understand, and have to try to make sense enough to ask the right questions to get what they are needing. 

       I smile a lot.  Sometimes it helps.     

      The teachers here (all women in this school) are muy patiente and work hard to make me feel like I’m making some progress.   I sometimes wonder how bored they must be listening to me read at what feels like about a first-grade level.  The equivalent of “See spot run.  See spot jump.  Spot is a good dog.”  Well, maybe a little more complicated, but not much.  Yet they continue to cheer me on. 

     I did get a very wonderful quick tutorial in Spanish from a very precocious nine-year-old last weekend.  My new friend, Steven, as you know, invited me to share a weekend with his family camping on the Carribean side of the mountain.  At one point we were sitting at the restaurant and Steven and Allison were tending to something with the other two of their three children.  That left just me an El at the table.  I had already asked her for clarification on a couple of words on the menu.  When I asked a third time, this nine-year-old put her hand on mine and said,

     “O.K.  Here’s something you need to know.  Really English and Spanish are just the same.  Water is water in Costa Rica just like it is where you live.  There’s an ‘a’ in Spanish.   There’s an ‘a’ in English.  There’s a ‘w’ in Spanish.  There’s a ‘w’ in English.  See it’s just the same.  No difference!  They just spell the words different is all!”  

     With that, she turned away to look at her own menu and left me to ponder her wisdom.  She said, in effect,  ‘you’ve got  all you need right in front of you.  Deal with it.’   If she hadn’t been sitting there I would have laughed until I split.  She, of course,  has grown up speaking both languages and does so interchangeably.   If you say something to her in Spanish, she answers in Spanish.  If in Engish, no hesitation. 

       Ah, to be nine and have it all sown up!

     This weekend, instead of taking a tour somewhere else, I have opted to stay here so that I can figure out the bus situation between here and San Jose.  I want to visit several places there - the gold museum, the teatro nationale, and several other places.  The National Theater was built by coffee plantation owners to show the world that they were not just peasant farmers, but could hold their own with anyone in the world.  It is supposed to rival the La Scala in it’s opulence.  The gold museum holds the largest collection of pre-Columbian articles of the smooth yellow stuff.  Should be interesting.  There are several other places that I want to be sure to see.  I’m planning to take the tours conducted in Spanish.  I know I won’t get as much of the information that way, but my teachers didn’t give me enough homework to keep me busy this weekend,  and I need the practice.  I’ll probably buy a book at each place to fill in the blanks.

     I received an email from my wander-lusing daughter, Stacy, who is presently living in Ghana, West Africa.  In the email she talks about the joys and challenges of traveling and living abroad.  I want to paraphrase just part of what she shares because I like it so much.

     She says that traveling abroad is like being the baby sitter.  You play with the kids awhile and its fun and exciting and  different, and then you go home and watch reruns of Seinfield in your underwear.  Living abroad is like being the mom.  You wouldn’t have it any other way, and most of the time you love it.  But every now and then the challenges become so overwhelming and the frustation so great, that you feel like chucking the whole thing and calling it a day.  

     I know that what I am experiencing falls somewhere between traveling and living.  Stacy is right.  There are days when I think, “I’m never gonna get this.  It’s too much.  (demasiado).  People talk too fast.  I don’t know enough words to carry on a half-way decent conversation, and right now I can only speak in the present tense, which is very limiting.  I try to listen to Spanish television, but the words just jumble together and all start sounding the same.  Is this going to turn out to be a huge waste of time and money?

      But then I begin to think about the fact that I am in Costa Rica — actually living here for a while — and the place is beautiful and the people wonderful and I’m going to have opportunities that I’ve never had before.  And the possibilities are just so llimitless.  

     And just this morning as I was getting ready and as I was walking to school, I realized I was thinking in Spanish –  not English.  Limited though it is, I was forming questions and carrying on conversations in my head in Spanish.  When I got to school I didn’t speak English the whole time.  I made myself live within the limits of what I can do. And, you know,  it wasn’t bad at all.    

        And then I think,  “I’m going to do this!” 

        But even if I can’t,

        WOW, what a trip!!!!

                  Pura Vida!!

       Every trip has it’s memorable occurances.  Mine came courtesy of hurricane Ike which got my flight cancelled at the last minute and turned a four hour flight into a fourteen hour endurance test.  I was able to get out on Saturday, but the route took me through Florida and then back to Costa Rica.  It meant a night-time arrival.

      It wasn’t all bad, however.  The night sky above the clouds with a full moon provided wonderful vistas of dark cotton candy shapes.  For a short time there was a break in the clouds, just in time to see Cuba to our port side.  It looked close enough to reach out and touch.  And San Jose at night was a golden offering, nestled in between mountain ranges.  The lights from the houses up the mountain looked like rivulets of molten lava spilling into the flowing lava lake below.  Breathtaking.

     Customs and integration took forever!  But I tried to make the best of it by visiting with other weary tavelers in line.  I even helped a couple find the right place to go.  (Had they only known that I was as green as they, they probably wouldn’t have been so trusting.)  I tried to look seasoned.  Not sure I pulled it off.

     Being thrust from the safe interior of the airport into the amazing crush people and taxis outside was a bit overwhelming.  But fortunately I saw a sign - IPEE “Rick” and found safety.  Her name was Mariposa and she spoke not one word of Ingles.  But we managed to hang in there and find the right cab that was my scheduled ride.  Curridabat, it turns out, is about 45 minutes from San Jose. 

     First impressions:

      Every house seemed to be behind bars.  Not little bars, either.  Big, thick, tough-looking bars that would stop a car from getting through.  I wondered if I were getting into an armed camp.  It gave a whole new meaning to ‘gated community’.  There didn’t seem to be any yards.  Houses are crammed against each other on narrow streets, with no space at all between them.  Most seem to share walls on either side.  The cabbie seemed to know where he was going and finally pulled up to an iron-fenced ‘patio’ saying, “Su casa.”  I was beginning to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. 

       My hostess, Nury, however, is the sweetest lady.  She unlocked the three locks on the gate and welcome me with a hug and a kiss like she’d known me forever.  She speaks no English, by the way.  None.  Nada.  Zilch!  But after I’ve gotten to know her a little, I’ve decided she is Curridabat’s version of Ina Lasiter, taking in strangers and making them feel as welcome as strangers can feel.  She forced me to sleep in her room, in her bed the fist night.  The next day I moved into the room I will occupy for the next two months. 

     I didn’t think I’d be able to get to sleep, I was so wound up.  But I don’t think I lasted two minutes after hitting the bed. 

      All I could think of was, “What have I done!” 

       I’ll  post more on the first days later.

          May the peace of God be with you all.

Well, my introduction to the wide world of blogging.

It’s a time for firsts.  In a few weeks I will begin an adventure far different from anything I have ever done..

The butterflies are in constant motion at this point.  The questions of my sanity will not be stilled.  And the excitement is almost overwhelming.

For years I have lived vicariously through my children as they have continued to take risks and move beyond themselvs.  i have pretty much stayed the course and taken the safe way.

Deanna, though she remains within the confines of the United States, has launched her own business and along with her friend, Shannon, has risked it all for the sake of the future.  Stacy, my wander-lusting daughter, now resides in Ghana, West Africa, where she is living a dream that has been inside her since she was a child. 

So maybe it’s time for me to take the  leap.

For Christmas last year Stacy’s gift to me was a World Atlas.  It’s a massive thing that weighs a ton and which uncovers every corner of our globe.  When I opened the package she said, “This is your future, Dad.”

So, in the next months I will be living as a foreigner, an alien, immersed in a culture and language totally foreign to me.  I will be living within the unfamiliar and pushing myself against my own limits. 

I do so trusting that who I am and what I dream will be what I need to allow me to survive and to grow in ways I have not yet even imagined.

it’s time to begin living it instead of just dreaming about it.

So, Hello, world!   

Ready or not, here I come!