Costa Rica Entries Are Totally Complete Now...

I have finally finished linking all of the entries from my Costa Rica trip together. To read them from start to finish click the link below:

The Big News

There is a link at the end of each entry that will take you to the next entry. I have added all of the pictures to the posts. You can look at all of the pictures at once if you go to my on-line photo album-click the link below:

John's Photo Album

There is also a new post in the middle of July, with lots of pictures, it's called: The Art Show

Juanito

Home at Last

At 10pm Monday night I finally walked into the South Bend Airport and saw my wife after three weeks out of the country. I was tired, smelly, but happy nonetheless. We stopped at Taco Bell on the way home and I had two tacos with hot sauce.

This morning I slept until 11 am and crawled out of bed to a big breakfast of eggs and toast, with the only thing from Costa Rica being the coffee I brought back.

I'm glad to be home.

Juanito

Atlanta Airport

Upon landing in Atlanta I was told that I had to do the following in one hour and thirty three minutes:

1. Go through immigration.
2. Pick up my luggage.
3. Take my luggage through customs.
4. Re-check my luggage to get to my flight for South Bend.
5. Go through a security check-point.
6. Make it to the other side of the airport.

I also wanted something to eat, but I thought that was not possible. So I actually started at pace somewhere between a brisk walk and a jog. I think there may have been actually 5000 people at immigration. They opened up a bunch more lanes and moved us through in about 30 minutes. Then I ran to get my bags, that took about 10 minutes. Luckily, customs did not go through them and Delta had people all along the way pointing us in the right way. The longest part was going through security. Everyone automatically took off their belts and shoes to get through. After that I put my shoes and belt back on and took off for the subway that links all of Atlanta. I started in concourse D and had to get to concourse B, luckily it went from D to C and to B, and not the other way around. I came up the escalator and saw my gate within sight and I had 30 minutes to spare. I headed to Popeye's chicken for some dark meat, a biscuit and some red beans and rice.

I sat at the gate and enjoyed the flavors of cumin and red cayenne pepper which no one in Costa Rica had considered using in any of the dishes I ate during the last three weeks. I wanted to grab someone next to me and say, "Do you realize how incredible this chicken is? I have not had chicken like this for a month-it's a beautiful thing!" I decided my culinary preferences would be lost at best on my fellow travellers.

I had also spent the last hour running like a rat in a maze. Being back in the US reminds me how incredibly stressed we are, and how incredibly efficient we are. I never saw anything like this in Costa Rica, it was like coming off of the farm and going back to the big city. I was stressed, but I was where I needed to be with an incredible piece of chicken in my greasy mitts. The employees of Delta and the INS were not overly friendly, but they knew their jobs and were good at them.

In the end, that's one of the trades between life in the US and life in some parts of Latin America. The US is efficient, fast, has everything you need or want, but leads to a group of people that are stressed-out, impersonal and can come off as kind of rude.

I was reminded of something one of my professors at the language school in Costa Rica told me. She said that people are more important to Latinos than goals. People come before efficiency. That really stuck with me. I don't know how to combine that with gringo-like efficiency. I don't know where that fits in my own job, or my own goals, or who I want to be.

I do know its something I want to be a part of my life...

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Home At Last

The Airport at Liberia

Thankfully, the road from Nicoya to the international airport in Liberia is on a federal highway and there were none of those bone crunching potholes that the country suffers from.

I was glad that I got there two and a half hours early because I had to really jump through hoops to get out of the country. First, I had to stand in line to pay my tourist tax of $26, then I had to check in with Delta, then I had to get something to eat, because Delta does not think coach passengers deserve a full meal for a four hour flight,(I'm a little bitter on this-I would have paid for the meal), then I had to go through immigration and security, finally, I was in the lounge ready to board the plane.

It was really rough being thrown into a pile of gringos again. We are so rude and self-absorbed that I felt kind of sad. I actually preferred the ultra-nice, leisurely pace of Costa Rica, that it was shocking to have to leave that cocoon while I was still in the country itself.

Finally, we boarded the plane and were greeted by the twangy Georgia accent of the flight crew from Atlanta and the cool breeze of air conditioning. Trading air conditioning for Pura Vida is not really a fair trade, but its nothing to scoff at either, especially because it will come with hot showers and real tacos.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Atlanta Airport

Leaving My Host Home

(Near Santa Cruz on the Road to Liberia)

My host mother made a rather large breakfast on my last day in Costa Rica. The standard Gallo Pinto and scrambled eggs made an appearance, as did the the fresh pineapple and banana, but it was followed up with a red delicious apple and a rather large piece of pound cake. My host mother appeared to have some fears that I would faint from hunger on the way, that and she knows I enjoy my food.

She managed to snatch my dirty clothes on Sunday night and wash them and presented me with a going away present of a sculpture made of shells and two packages of Costa Rican coffee,(I already had four packages, I'm drinking some right now). I was overwhelmed. She told me any time I am in Costa Rica to stop by and I will have a place to stay.

(Road to Liberia)

My ride showed up, I threw my bags in the back and gave my host mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and I was gone.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Post: Airport at Liberia

Packing

(Ranch in Rosario)

Not much to report today. Went on a lovely outing with the family to a wild animal park and to a ranch. I'm back home now packing to go home. I´m making a real effort to not bring any roaches or spiders back with me. I probably won´t blog again until Tuesday.

Here's some pictures from my outing today.

(Crocodile)
(Parrot)

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Leaving My Host Home

Bus Trip Back to Nicoya

After getting sun burned and spending more money than I intended to, I got on the bus to go back home to Nicoya. I sat next to two ladies from Nicaragua, who worked as vendors selling things to tourists up and down the beach.



They missed their home a lot and told me its a great place for tourists to come and is getting better. They told me about their typical foods, and how the chicarrones(pork rinds) in Costa Rica are inferior because they are cut by machine.

We talked about the American Dream, they would like to go to America to make money, and they like America and Americans. They said that President Bush has actually helped out their country alot.

They said something that I have heard repeated quite a lot here, from several different sources, that is that Americans and Canadians are better tourists than Europeans. We are more polite, We don´t haggle to the point of being jerks, and we tip well. Germans, French, Spaniards, and people from Great Britain are seen as rude and cheap. Americans are also more likely to know some Spanish.

Speaking of opinions about America, my host mother has not only hosted American students, but she went to Long Island for a trip and had a great time. She said all of the people were lovely and treated her very well.

There´s a lot of people in Costa Rica that like America and Americans. I think they wish we´d get out of Iraq as soon as possible, but they do understand that Muslim terrorists are not the kind of enemy that you can have any type of dialog with, like other enemies.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Packing

Playa Samara

(Playa Samara)

It was sort of shocking to be in such a touristy environment. I heard English and German being spoken everywhere, and people charging four times the prices they charge in Nicoya.

First, I walked along the beach to check everything out and see if I could find my friends from the Institute who were supposed to have been on the bus with me, but did not show.

I had been hoping to collect some rocks while I was here, and this was the place. Not only rocks, but all kinds of pieces of coral washed up on the beach. I soon had to transfer my prizes from my pocket to a zip-lock bag.

(Playa Samara)

I finally decided I was ready for lunch and went to a great little restaraunt that was right on the beach. I ordered a watermelon shake and a plate of rice and shrimp. It was all very good. I had a diet coke with lime after that and lingered.

Since my friends had not shown up, I was not sure how I would go swimming. I mean, Ticos are mostly honest, but I don´t think leaving my bag out on the beach with my money, my MP3 player and my camera is particularly wise. I decided it was time to do a little social engineering.

First, I left a big tip. Most people do not tip in Costa Rica, tips are included in the price. I still do, because I want to get better than average service and also I have this weird feeling of duty to be the nicest American that any Tico meets. I´m on a mission...

So, I walk up to the counter and pay my bill and talk to the owner. "Hola, I really enjoyed my meal. You have a great place here."
"Thanks, glad you liked it."
"Hey, my friends never showed up, and I need to find some place around town that I can stow my bag while I am swimming. Do you know any place where I might be able to leave my bag at?"
"Oh, you can leave it behind the counter with me. No problem at all."
"Oh, that´s great! Thanks a lot!"
"Con mucho gusto!"(You´re very welcome)

I finally got on the beach and smeared myself with bullfrog and jumped in the water. I tasted the salt on my beard, and the water was like a warm bath. No shiverring, no getting in little by little, the Pacific Ocean was my salty bathtub and I frolicked like some great hairy manatee.

(Playa Samara)

First, I went out to about 5 feet high and jumped into the waves. I got salt water in my nose, and soon realized I could lose my trunks doing this. I came back closer to the shore and sat in the surf as it rolled up around me. I got sand in my pockets, and I did not care.

Later, I returned to pick up my bag, and this time had a fresh banana and pineapple shake,(outstanding), and followed up with another diet coke. I walked around town and looked at the souvenir shops and finally lined up for the bus.

I could feel the sun burn all over my body...

Bullfrog had let me down.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: The Bus Trip Back to Nicoya

The Bus Ride

As the bus got up speed and started heading out of town, I suddenly remembered all of those newscasts where a bus somewhere in Latin America plunges off of a hill and everyone aboard dies and then they put up a big Catholic shrine there with lots of candles.

I found that I had to exercise that new travelling skill I have developed since I have been in Costa Rica. I call it, "think-only-happy-thoughts". It works really well, but you have to really concentrate. I really honed it in the bathroom in my house, when I kept having these mental images of huge, scary spiders all hiding under the toilet. I have found it works good for a lot of things, at least until one of those things actually happens, then I don´t know what I´m going to do.


I soon forgot about the fiery heap of metal at the bottom of the hill and enjoyed the incredible scenery. Being in this kind of countryside is like drinking peace in through your eyes. It is every shade of green, with huge mountains, valleys and rivers. There are little farms and lots of those hump-backed cows that seem so popular here, I think the hump is like a heat sink, thats just a theory. Then there are little pastel colored houses and schools and soccer fields in-between.


The bell to ring the driver that you want to get off does not work, but everyone knows this special whistle that makes him stop. He stops anywhere, he also picks people up almost everywhere. People come on and get off the bus with big bags of groceries and bags of wheat, luckily, no goats on this trip though.


I had travelled this road by car before and the potholes are incredible, but they weren´t that bad by bus. It sort of took the shock away. Of course the bus is probably the reason for the potholes, but thats another point.

One hour later, and I was at the beach.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Playa Samara

The Bus Station

I looked about as touristy as I have since I got here. I had my backpack and my camoflage boonie hat and my shiny blue swimtrunks on,(no, they are not those ones that Richard Simmons wears, you know, where half his butt is hanging out, thankfully someone in the garment industry had the wisdom to not make those in my size.). Besides that sterling outfit choice, I had that confused big galloot look that I really try to avoid when I am in Latin America, but keeps showing up from time to time.

I went to the ticket counter and asked to buy a ticket to Playa Samara,(Samara Beach). The lady told me in Spanish that I needed to buy my ticket from the bus conductor and not her in a tone that said I was stupid. I wanted to ask her why she had a job sitting behind a counter that said "tickets" if I was buying the tickets from the driver? Was she just there to put ignorant gringos in our place? But, like so many other times, I just grinned the big galloot smile and said "Gracias".

The bus station is really cool, because there are all these little stores and restaraunts and vendors walking around selling things. This short chubby guy that was selling potato chips came up to me and said in very clear Spanish, "You-are-going-to-Playa-Samara-Right?". I felt like Forrest Gump for a minute. I replied, "Si, a Samara." My big galloot brother then said, "The-bus-leaves-at-10-am-ok?", Then he held up ten fingers to make sure I got the point. I grinned the dumb grin again and said,"gracias."

So I waited around for about 30 minutes and the bus finally showed up. The chip guy came back:"This-is-the-bus-for-Samara-OK?", and he proceeded to point at it. "Gracias, maje! muy amable!",that's Costa Rican Spanish for "Thanks Dude! You´re one of the good ones". Seriously, though, it touched me that he went out of his way to help me, he didn´t even know me and he was not an employee of the bus lines. He was just a guy selling potato chips.

I took a seat in the back by the back door. I was not shocked that there was no AC or bathrooms, but there were snacks. First the jello guy came on the bus, they call them "Gelatinas", and they are in plastic bags, you rip them open with your teeth and suck the icy cold jello through the bag. I decided against this. Then the chip guy came on, it was my Big Galloot brother who had got me on the right bus,(its a secret organization, click here to read more). I felt I had to buy a package of chips from him, it was my duty, and they were only 200 colones, which is less than 50 cents.

Finally, we were off to the beach.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: The Bus Ride

Graduation Day

(Receiving My Diploma)
Today I finished my classes. We had a little graduation ceremony. The other 2 students and I received diplomas and had some cake with our professors and took pictures. I reached the level of Avanzado II. I have 60 hours of class time in Costa Rica, besides living with a family that speaks no English. I feel sort of strange about ending it all. It took forever to just get here, and it felt like forever when I finally got here, and now it feels like it was no time at all. I´m a little sad and a little happy, and a lot relieved.

Tomorrow, I´m heading for the beach, and will leave for Indiana on Monday.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: The Bus Station

Spanish Classes En-Vivo

Today after classes, the institute made us a great lunch of salad and sandwiches and then we took a ride out to a farm about 30 kilometers from Nicoya. The farm belongs to Teresa and Edgar. Teresa is the directora of the institute, and is a great teacher and really keeps an eye on the students to make sure we don´t have any problems with our families. When I was sick last week, she was on the phone to my host mother checking on me.

Teresa and Edgar´s farm is about an hour´s ride up and down mountains on some beautiful Costa Rican roads,(that is sarcasm in case you weren´t paying attention). Bumps aside, the view was outstanding. The mountains are dramatic and high, but covered with every shade of green, just touched at the top by the white mist of the clouds.

When we got to their finca,(farm or ranch, it´s called a rancho in Mexico), they showed us around. They have a building that they do not use that is home to hundreds of murcielagos,(bats). As we walked through the dark rooms, the bats flew above our heads. It was a little un-nerving, but they were fruit bats, so its not a big deal.


(Fruit Bats Living in Teresa and Edgar's Ranch House)
I learned a little about bats here, there are as many bats in Central America as there are half of the number of total mammals. Out of 30 species, there are only two that feed by sucking blood, and only one that would attack humans. They normally eat fruit, and insects. They are very important to control the insect population, especially mosquitos who can spread many diseases such as Dengue Fever.

My two classmates went on a horseback ride and I chose to stay in town. I don´t like horses. I had one evil horse try to kill me when I was 16. Since then, I have come to the conclusion that they are large animals with the intelligence and disposition of a toddler, and we all know all toddlers are not nice...

So Teresa showed me around the little town and we sat down in a Pulperia,(the ubiquitous corner store, there is one within 1000 meters of any vague address here). I drank pop and I practiced my Spanish on all the people in the village.

(Pulpería San Rafael-My favorite pulperia near the school. I stopped here most days for snacks or Coca Light-that's what Diet Coke is called in most of Latin America)
Schmoozing, joking and making new friends is probably my favorite thing to do in Spanish. I also tried a new soft drink called Maxi. Its a non-alcoholic malt soft drink. It was tangy and refreshing, it reminded me of Vernors Ginger Ale a little bit.

It was amazing to see how the pace in the village was even more laid-back,(I did not think that was possible), than in Nicoya, which is not a big town. But it was, everyone sat around, and shot the breeze and came to meet the new gringo. It was a very nice day.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Graduation Day

Bull Fights-Costa Rican Style

A bull fight is called a corrido in Spanish. In corridos in Spain and Mexico and other parts of the Spanish-speaking world, the bullfight is a highly stylized drama that pits the strength of the bull against the skill of the matador. Matador literally means killer.

It is normally common that bull is killed by the end of the bullfight. There are men on horses with spears and the matador himself has a sword to deliver the final blow. It is common for people to get injured or die in bullfights because to the danger of the very large animal with horns and hooves.

Last night I went to a fiesta in the barrio of Los Angeles where they had a corrido. I haven´t said this about many things in Costa Rica, but it was pathetic. The bulls had no horns. There was no matador with silk stockings and a sequined bolero outfit. Instead, there were teenage boys and men in dirty t-shirts and tennis shoes, who were paying to get in the ring to run away from the bull. So there were about 20 people paying to play keep-away from a bull without horns. The bull looked annoyed and scared, and was not very angry.

Now, after awhile the cowboys would come out and on their horses and lasso the bull and take him back to the pen. They were good at what they did and even did some tricks with the rope. Cowboys in Costa Rica are called Sabaneros and not Vaqueros, which is the more common word used in Mexico. The word Caballero literally means "horseman", it was the word used to describe knights in the middle ages. It is used now to refer to a gentleman, or someone who is very polite, such as, "él es muy caballero.",("he is very polite"). Language lesson aside, there were also some bull riders who were very good and interesting to watch, but the corrido really left a bad taste in my mouth.

One of the more interesting things about Costa Rican bull fighting is that they are not allowed to kill the bull. There are very strict laws here that say that you cannot kill an animal for sport, and that you must have a good reason, such as the animal is a danger to others or you are going to have a barbeque.

I have mixed feelings about corridos. The bulls are going to die anyway, so its good to see them get a chance to take revenge. I also think that too many people think that meat comes from some mysterious place already wrapped in plastic. People rarely think about how violence is still a part of the food we eat every day. On the other hand, the corrido is hardly a humane kill.

I think the Costa Rican corrido is an example of the struggle between machismo that is inherant in Latino culture and Costa Rica´s determination to be a progressive country that respects all life. You can´t have it both ways. You can´t be old-school macho and still be educated and progressive.

Something has to suffer...

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Spanish Classes en-vivo

The Fiesta de la Patrona

My host family invited me to come to their family party to celebrate the patron saint of Costa Rica, the Virgin of Los Angeles, also called La Negrita. Here´s some other blog entries if you want to learn more about this holiday:
La Día de la Patrona
La Romeria

We drove over to my host mother´s daughter´s house. They have a large tiled patio with beautiful peach colored walls and the standard iron gates everyone else has. There were chairs set up facing a table with a white tablecloth, flowers and a shrine to the virgin that included candles and an a replica image of the virgin that is in the basilica in Cartago. When I got there, two nuns had arrived and they were setting everything up for the service.

When most everyone arrived, we all stood up for prayer. After prayer the nuns would read about the miracles in the life of the virgin Mary and Jesus as a child, then different people would say what I think was the rosary,(I was raised protestant, so I was pretty lost during the whole thing), then other people would say responses, and then were songs that everyone knew, but me. But it was nice, and it was pretty amazing to see how much everyone had committed to memory.

There are people that say Catholicism is a lazy religion, but I don´t agree. Everyone knew these long sayings and what to repeat when and what to sing when. It was impressive. Finally the service ended and the part of the party started that I could participate in more fully: the eating.

Now, I consider myself a pretty progressive guy, but in Costa Rica, the men stand around and the women serve everybody. My host mother gets a little annoyed if I try to do more than scrape my dishes, so I am ready to do my part for cultural sensitivity and let women bring me food. Its tough, but no one said learning another language and culture would be easy.

The meal started with a really good glass of Horchata, which is a sweet rice drink made with spices. Its very refreshing on a hot day. Then they brought out Elotes, which is corn on the cob. Its actually not bad with some lime and mayonnaise, but it´s not great. Its very different from corn in the US though.

I´m not impressed with Elotes in Mexico or Costa Rica. I know the smaller kernels are more accurate of what maize was when the pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, but after you have tasted a big, ultra sweet, butter soaked, genetically modified piece of sweet corn, you just aren´t satisfied with anything else.

Then they brought a plate full of rice and barbequed chicken and roast beef and a cold pasta salad. The salad was my favorite part. Ticos do some very good cold salads. Then we had flan for dessert.

Everyone was very friendly, and had a great time. It was a wonderful evening.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Bull Fights-Costa Rican Style

El Día de la Patrona

I walked into Cafe Daniela and there was almost no one in there, just me and two other patrons. Many of the businesses were locked up and there are very few people on the streets. The owner of Cafe Daniela confirmed my suspicions, he said that everybody is at home celebrating La Día de la Patrona.

Today is when Ticos celebrate their patron saint, La Negrita, the Virgin of Los Angeles. I wrote earlier about La Romeria, which is one of the things many people do to celebrate the virgin. Click the link above to also read the story of the Negrita.

The local news here reported that there has been over 2 million people that have made the romeria. In a country this size, that is a considerable amount of people. Some of the books that I read before coming here said that Costa Ricans are really not that religious, but I´ve decided to not agree with that.

At least here in Nicoya, and from what I can see on the news, people here are as religious as they are in other Catholic countries. Other religions are represented here as well. I attend a protestant church, but I know there are a lot of Mormans and a lesser number of Jehovah´s witnesses.

I have to leave the internet cafe soon, my madre tica told me I "debe estar en casa a las tres para ir a la fiesta en la casa de Cecillia",("you better be home by three so we can go to the family fiesta at Cecilia´s house!"). I´ll let you know how that goes, I´m looking forward to it.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: La Fiesta de la Patrona

Safety and Security in Costa Rica

A sense of security is very subjective. Asking about how safe a place is like asking how the economy is doing: the answer is extremely biased and based on perception more than fact.

I flew into the country in Liberia and had no problems. I was also picked up by someone from the school and did not have to deal with a private taxi or bus.

My classmates from Montreal flew into San Jose and they weren´t so lucky. One lady had someone rip her gold chain from her neck and then had a taxi driver drive them double the distance for a small ride.

Happily, they have had no problems since they arrived in Nicoya. They have rode the bus to the beach many times and they go out to parties and have no problems with security. I walk around here at night with no problems, and have not had any problems with crime.

That said, I´m tall and very large and am not an easy target. But there are deperate people with knives and guns in Costa Rica, just like anywhere in the world, so I would give them my money without hesitation.

I still use common sense. I don´t walk around after 9 pm. I stick to main streets and always keep an eye on my surroundings. I cross the street if I am nervous about someone. I only carry about ten to twenty dollars on me at a time and carry a copy of my passport. Everything else I keeped locked up at home.

I feel safer here than I felt in Mexico. Especially in Nicoya, because there are not a lot of tourists here, so it has not drawn an element looking to take advantage of people. The locals are very proud of how safe Nicoya is, but all of there houses have pretty pastel colored steel bars on the front of the house with big locks on both sides.

They are proud of how safe their town is, but they aren´t stupid. I think that´s the key.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: El Día de la Patrona

The Home Stretch

I´ve got two days left of classes and about five days in country left. I´m about to run out of steam, and kind of have to keep pushing myself. It´s been a long three weeks, but I´m ready to go home. I keep having these imaginary conversations between the disciplined John and the lazy John where I keep telling myself to stop whining and suck it up.

So far I´m sucking it up, but I still really want a real taco and a hot shower. I´ve had enough cold showers to last me a long time. But I´m also sad because I have friends, and people recognize me on the street and talk to me.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Safety and Security in Costa Rica

Costa Rican Women

Costa Rican women are not any different than women all over the world. The mix of races here means there are so many very attractive shades of skin. Costa Ricans come in every color of the rainbow, from African, Asian and European, to the indigenous races in this province of Guanacaste.

There are some interesting things about Ticas. They rarely leave the house without makeup and being dressed well. I have seen no one in sweat pants here,(its also too hot for sweatpants!). They love chunky jewelry and their earrings could choke a horse. I suspect that some of them do not possess shoes without a 3" heel. They seem to have no aversion to visible panty lines, and wear bare midriffs when its not necessarily a good idea.

One of the younger girls at the language school said the funniest thing about the women here. She said, "Have you noticed how they have such nice figures when they are young, but after they have a couple of kids their figure is not so great?" We all died laughing and assured her that this is not purely a Costa Rican phenomenom by a long shot.

There are some very attractive women here, that dress very provocatively to say the least. Combine that with a culture that is "overly" friendly,(at least to uptight gringo ideals) and you have a country where its not torturous to be a man.

All that aside, I still feel like I´m starving to death in a Chinese buffet, and all I want is Mexican food, my own enchilada at home...

I miss my wife.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: The Home Stretch

Money Problems

I spent my free time during the last two days dealing with some money problems. My credit card would not work. The first time I used it here, it was declined. I tried it in the teller machine here, and it was declined. My wife called the company and they said it was all worked out.

Today, I went to get some cash out and the same thing happened. So I spent a half hour on the public phone in the park making a long distance call. The bank said that I didn´t withdraw enough, that I was .63 cents short of the minimum withdrawl. That would have been nice to hear from the teller machine here. All it said was "transacción cancelado".

After feeling a little sheepish, I walked to the ATM machine and tried it again with a larger amount-same thing-no money and spit my card back out!

One thing I have learned about Costa Rica stands true for any developing country: if something does not work, try the same thing somewhere else. Really, if one phone does not work, try another. If one bank won`t help you, go to the other one. Things vary from person to person, from business to business.

I walked about another mile and went to the biggest bank in town. They are slow, but they have their act together. I went to their ATM machine first, stuck the card in and in seconds I had several brightly colored 10,000 Colón notes in my sweaty hands.

Amazing...

I still choose to blame my credit card company for being stupid, I called them a month before I left and told them the dates I would be in Costa Rica, then they said that was why they had a block on it. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. American Express they ain`t!

I got my money now, that´s all that matters.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Costa Rican Women

Cost of Living Increases

I had the weirdest conversation with one of my Spanish professors. I told her that I had not got a raise for a long time because business has been bad. She looked at me really quizzically, then said, "Don´t you get a raise every year?". I told her no, it depends on the company and if they can give you a raise or not.

She explained that if you work in Costa Rica, there are two cost of living increases made to your salary every year, it´s the law. The government decides the percentage of the increase. This is for private businesses as well as government businesses.

I was shocked to say the least.

It´s tough to say if this is all bad. Costa Rica has high inflation, and there are a lot of people without jobs. On the other hand, there is a larger middle class in Costa Rica than the rest of Central America. Costa Ricans say they want a more stable economy, like the US, maybe they don´t realize the problems that are inherent in a market driven economy.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Money Problems

The Ricky Martin Poster

I finally took down the Ricky Martin poster that the previous resident had left up in my room. I was really getting tired of him looking at me in that longing, wanton way of his. I wanted to scream at the wall, "Darn it! I`m not just a piece of meat! Don´t you realize that Ricky?"

There was part of me that was torn between wanting to explain to him that it would never work out, we come from such different worlds, and then there was the part of me that wanted to slug him in his perfect Cary Grant chin, to hear him cry like the niñita I suspect he is. I guess he´s always annoyed me even before he got the frosted hair. He has been my least favorite Latino singer since he was in Menudo,(I still can´t get off their fan club list, even after I sent them a notice in Spanish!).

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Cost of Living Increases

La Romeria

I watch the news every morning with my breakfast and I kept noticing all these pictures of people walking on the highway. It was like some Costa Rican Walk-a-Thon, but I never saw Jerry Lewis asking for money, so I was kind of confused. Then I noticed the newscasters were talking about the Camino de Fe,(The Road of Faith), and using the word Romeria.

I asked my friend Jorge, who I meet with twice a week to help him with his English and me with my Spanish. He explained that we are very close to the Fiesta de Los Angeles where people celebrate the patron saint of Costa Rica, La Negrita, or the Black Virgin.

The story goes that a statue of a black madonna was found in the jungle. It had been carved by hand out of black rock, presumably by the indigenous people. The statue was taken to the church and put on display. The next day the statue was gone. It was later found in the same part of the jungle it came from. They took it back to the church, and once again it disappeared to reappear at the same place in the jungle. The third time, they decided to build a church at the site where they found the statue.

La Negrita is said to have powers much like La Virgen de Guadalupe in Mexico has. Jorge explained that people ask La Negrita to heal them, or help them with a problem, and they promise that if she does that they will go on a romeria to the basilica in Cartago where the statue is to "pagar la promesa", to keep their promise. It can be a very long journey, and it was to be done on foot, when they get to the basilica, some people approach the altar on their knees, much like they do in Mexico to the Virgin of Guadalupe.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: The Ricky Martin Poster

In Praise of the Casado

Costa Rican food may not be as interesting as Mexican food, but its good, and normal and they do not skimp on the portions. When I am really hungry, and want more than a nibble, which is most of the time, I order a Casado.

Casado means literally married man, and its a good homestyle meal that fills most of the plate. Its generally not a bad deal. Today I ordered the casado con chuleta de cerdo, the pork chop lunch.

It came out with black beans and rice, a really tasty cold potato salad, some fried plantain chips and a large butterfly pork chop that was crispy on the edges.

I did not leave hungry, and actually did not have to fight the desire for the national dessert, Queque de Tres Leches, which I have had once, and it is outstanding.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: La Romeria

The Stare

I met a guy from Liverpool last week who said the first thing he noticed about Nicoya was that everyone stared at him and his friend from Ireland. He was about 6 foot 4 inches tall, and she had very blonde hair, so I could see why they stood out.

I hadn´t really noticed the stare. I figure its either because I´m kind of thick, or because if I see someone looking at me, I say "Buenas Tardes" or "Hola" or something like that, and they usually smile back and then look away.

On Sunday, I understood what he was talking about. Many of the restaraunts are closed on Sunday, except for the Chinese restaraunts and the smaller sodas,(thats what Ticos call a small roadside cafe). So I headed off for a restaraunt called "El Presidential", one of the people at the language school goes there for lunch all the time.

I walked in out of the bright sunshine into the dark room looking for an empty table, and everywhere I looked I saw these sets of wide eyes staring at me from eight different tables. It was kind of intimidating. I looked to the right, hoping to find a table, and there was a family that was enjoying a nice Sunday dinner. The difference was they weren´t gawking, they were smiling at me. The father was a big guy like me in a yellow shirt, and his wife was in a pretty violet top with her hair in a pretty bun. He said "Hi" in English to me, and we made small talk for about 10 seconds and I found a table next to them. It´s good to see the brotherhood of Big Galoots has a chapter down here too. It´s like the Masons, but not so strict, nor so energetic, and not normally allowed to meet at buffets for fear of financial ruin.

After I sat down, most of the eyes had stopped looking at me, except a hawk-faced thinnish grandfather, looking at me like I was the ruin of Tico culture with my Gringo ways, corrupting the children. I wanted to tell him that if he was so afraid of Gringo culture, maybe he should not eat at a restaraunt with a subtitled Matthew Perry movie behind him, I mean, could he be any more gringo?

Finally, grandpa gave it a rest and I settled down to my sweet and sour shrimp with french fries and diet coke with lime. The shrimp was fantastic, but I am getting tired of papas fritas, though they are good with the lime mayonaise that is served here.

Kvetching about staring aside, its part of the package. There are places in Costa Rica that are full of gringos, and no one stares at you. In these places you don´t have to speak Spanish, and you can get a proper cappucino, and there aren´t all these dirty street people asking you for money for food, even though you are sure its for liquor. There are proper places in Costa Rica, where a gringo can be comfortable. Why come to a place like that? Stay home if you have to have everything your way and don´t want to do deal with people that aren´t like you.

At least in Nicoya, its still not a popular tourist location, so you can see what the real Costa Rica is like, and talk to real people, without the homogenous cultural insulation and superior service that tourism seems to bring.

I´ve been on the other side too. I remember when I grew up in Central Oregon. Diversity hadn´t really become an issue out there at that time,and it was 95% Caucasian. I remember as a kid, I would stare when I saw someone different. It wasn´t because I was rude, it was just like I could hear that song from Sesame Street in my head:

"One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn't belong,
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time I finish my song?"

It´s just human nature to gawk at things that aren´t normally seen in your environment...

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: In Praise of the Casado

Costa Rican Addresses

Its amazing what you can learn from everyday information. Take addresses for instance. Here´s the address where I live in Costa Rica:

Bar los ranchitos, 25 metros al norte, casa blanca, verjas verdes canoa azul

That translates to:Go 25 meters north of Los Ranchitos bar and look for the white house with green and blue trim.

Here´s the address for the language institute where I study:

100 metros este y 100 metros norte de la escuela Cacicue Nicoa, Barrio El Carmen.

Which translates to:In El Carmen Neighborhood, find the Cacicue Nicoa school, from there go 100 meters East and then 100 meters North.

I was looking for a phone yesterday, a friend told me, "Go 50 meters that way and and then 20 meters that way and you´ll find a phone." So I followed their directions and found nothing. I asked a guy walking by where the phone was and he said, "Oh, they just removed it. Look, just go 100 meters North and 100 meters West and there´s another phone there." I told him thanks and headed off. No phone anywhere near there. Then it started raining, so I decided to hold off making any calls for a while.

In my job back here in Gringolandia, I spend all day looking for accurate addresses so I can correctly dispatch mechanics and wreckers to help my customers. I actually get a little impatient if someone is vague with me. It´s such a different mindset. Most places in the U.S. have an exact address with a nine digit zip code that I can look up on Microsoft Map-Point. I can go to google earth and get a aerial photo and also find the closest Taco Bell to that address by using Super Pages.

So who´s right? It´s obvious that Ticos aren´t into incredibly exact addresses. There aren´t even street signs at the corners. No numbers on the houses. It´s all so sloppy to my uptight North American mind.

Of course, everybody here knows where everything is. They know everybody. They don´t have any problems getting around. I think the real difference is that exact addresses are just part of a North American mindset that makes being anonymous so much easier. You don´t have to be a local to find something in North America, you can look it up on the computer. You don´t have to ask for directions, or get to know people or even get involved.

It might be easier to find things in the U.S., but at what price? I think I kind of prefer the friendly, unstressed, vagueness.

Pura Vida...

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: The Stare

102 Degrees

I had planned to go to the beach on Saturday. About 2 am Saturday morning, I had an inkling my plans would be changed. I woke up shivering, and then had to spend some quality time in my bathroom, which thankfully has been spider-free since I used the insecticide. I was bundled up in my flannel shirt, jeans, and Sponge-Bob Squarepants towel,(never forget your towel!).

Then the other problem started, my temperature rose to 102 degrees, and stayed that way for about three hours. With the continual trips to the bathroom, and the fever that had not budged over four hours even with Tylenol and Ibuprofen and a cold shower, I decided it was time to break out the antibiotics I had brought with me: Cipro-good for Anthrax and whatever else may ail you.

The rest of the day I was pretty miserable. I spent the day reading my 900 page novel and listening to Dave Brubeck on the MP3 player. I still had a fever but it stayed around 100 to 101 and never went back up to 102 again. I could eat, and I didn't have to spend so much time exposed waiting for the spiders to return.

My host mother kept checking on me when I told her I had not been feeling well. I told her thanks for being so concerned, she said, "Pues, preocupo.", which means, "well, I´m worried about you." When dinner came around she made me this huge bowl of chicken soup with boiled eggs, cilantro, carrots, noodles and zucchinini and rice in it. It was just the thing. I got a blanket and toddled off to bed and slept for about twelve hours after a little pharmaceutical help from Mr. Vicodin.

It meant a lot to know someone was worried about me, and that they would take me to the doctor if I got worse. It's also comforting to know that there are several medical clinics, pharmacies and a good hospital in Nicoya. Being sick is always rough, but being a few thousand miles from home makes it worse. I can´t imagine what I would do if I could not speak Spanish. I´d be miserable and no one would understand what was wrong.

So far today, my temperature has not been over 100, I went to church, and am out walking around. I´m not 100% yet, but I´m about 75% well.

Juanito

On the MP3 Player:"Never is Enough" by the Barenaked Ladies

Next Costa Rican Entry: Costa Rican Addresses

The Bank

At about 12:10 pm I entered the Banco Nacional to cash a traveller´s cheque and change some Dollars into Colones. I got in line and there was about six people in front of me and three tellers working, out of seven cajas or teller boxes available.

A young woman had brought a big bag of 4 or 5 stacks of the pretty pink 1000 Colón notes and started a 25 minute transaction that probably strained the entire banking system of the country for a while, at least that´s what it looked like when the teller kept going back and forth to 2 or 3 superiors and she kept making cellular phone calls as he worked on this huge transaction.

A scraggly long-haired gringo in cargo shorts and his companion in a pink halter top and white hot pants were also putting a strain on the banking community with an equally intensive transaction. Their trip ended with a new debit card, a large bag of coins and the teller making 5 trips to all parts of the bank for several signatures, and several photocopies.

Bureaucracy is alive and well in Latin America.

The line had swelled to 19 people and most of us had been there 30 minutes with no movement in the line at all. The whole "Pura Vida" attitude was not holding firm, people were getting impatient. We all had a glimmer of hope when the two people who had held up the line finally left, and a new teller came back from lunch. One of the people stepped forward to a caja and the teller promptly put the "Cerrado Temporada" sign up so he could go to lunch. There was a group groan. We would never get out of here.

Then a guy with a rucksack cut the line and went to the window where the guy had just closed up, and he started helping him! Finally, an older bald gentleman with a yellow shirt, cell phone and a self-important look started making a fuss. First he started talking to the rest of us in the line about how this was so unfair and that this was probably the teller´s friend, then he finally walked up to the tellers window and told him that this was "Chorizo",(I guess it means more than spicy sausage), and it was not justo(fair) that he let this guy cut the line when there was so many people waiting. The teller said something that sounded like "if you don´t like it you can go to the back of the line. I´m entitled to take my lunch after I help this guy!"

Finally, the security guard came up and talked to the guy in the yellow shirt. He explained that the guy with the rucksack was an employee of the bank who was delivering papers to the bank, and that he was not cutting the line." It didn´t matter to the yellow shirt. He had now been embarassed because he lost his cool. The guard actually had to break out the, "Sea tranquilo."(Calm down! be cool!) on the guy.

While I hated to see him lose his cool, it was kind of funny to see that Pura Vida is not magic, people here lose their cool too. Everyone has limits to their patience.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: 102 Degrees

Another Bomba

Here´s another Bomba:

La piedra que mucho rueda,
No sirve para cimiento.
Como el hombre sin verguenza,
que no trata de casamiento.

Like a rolling stone,
Doesn´t work in cement,
The man without shame,
Never prospers in marriage.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: The Bank

I´m Thinking of Telling People I´m Canadian, Ehh?

Really, I am.

It´s not because I´m not patriotic, or anything like that. I love my country and am proud of it. I just think that there are other countries in the world and I wish people would stop being obsessed with everything from the U.S.

It gets a little tiring people asking you so many questions about anything related to movies and music and any kind of media from the U.S. After a while, you start to feel like the richest kid in school. Do people really like you, or do they just want to hang out with you because you are rich? When I tell them I´m not that rich and this trip is on my student loan, they give me that look that says, "sure, whatever you say Gringo. You´re not fooling us. We know you´ve got a solid gold toothbrush and silk toilet paper."

Now, not everyone is like this, but there are enough people that it gets old real quick. I´ve often thought that the obsession the rest of the world has with the U.S. media is unhealthy because it makes them less proud of their own culture and arts.

So I´m now going incognito as Gordie McDonald, Ehh? I have to remember I´m from Cornwall, Ontario, I love hockey and eating donuts at the Tim Horton´s on the weekends.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: Another Bomba

Police

I have seen a lot of police and soldiers during my trips to Latin America. I also worked for six months as a police dispatcher, so I have went on ride-alongs and spent a lot of time working with policemen.

Policemen in Mexico are kind of scary, the soldiers even more so. They are very grim-faced, spit-polished, squared off individuals. They don´t smile much, and have this look like they are ready for anything. They are heavily armed with light machine guns, assault rifles and pistols. They have been known to be corrupt, and try to shake down people for bribes. In some parts of Mexico, many people think that the police are the ones responsible for the crimes. Now, these are some generalizations, but the description of the armed forces and police as scary, grim individuals that you do not want to mess with is accurate. Costa Rica is very different. There is no army here. There are no checkpoints where soldiers search your bag, and the police here are very different. Here´s an example.

Sunday, I was standing in the park watching the fireworks on the last night of the fiesta. I watched a group of college students from California pose with a group of Costa Rican policemen. You would never see this in Mexico.

The policemen here are much older, they aren´t all pumped up and bulky with muscles. They look like very ordinary guys, some of them are older or middle aged. They are not young guys with flat tops who look like they take steroids.

Most of them carry a revolver and a nightstick. They do not have belts that are bulging with ammo and stun guns and pepper spray like cops in the U.S. . In fact the only times I have seen a bullet-proof vest was when the president came to town. But even then I did not see a machine gun of any kind, only pistols (I´m sure the presidents guards have some). The weird thing about that day was that I was able to get 30 feet from the president with no problem or being searched. Today I saw cops on the morning news with machine guns, but they were doing a drug raid, so that sort of makes sense.

Juanito

Next Costa Rican Entry: I'm Thinking of Telling People I'm Canadian, Ehh?