The big dipper
I don’t know much about astrology, I don’t know many constellations, but like every Alaskan I could always find the big dipper. When it’s your state flag your kinda obligated. In fact because of the star watching conditions in AK , I learned to find it very quickly. You see in Alaska star gazing can be a wee bit tricky. First of all, in the summer the extremely long days tend to make the stars professional hide and seekers, unless you like to stay up way past midnight. In fact other than camping trips or overnight boat trips, I don’t recall hardly ever seeing the stars from may to August. Then about September the stars really start popping fom the AK sky. Unfortunately it comes with a price, your body heat. And it continually worsens throughout the year, which is unfortunate because it always appeared to me that the colder it was the brighter the stars were. It seemed as though the stars themselves developed a layer of hoarfrost on them causing them to sparkle more majestically. But it was a rare, a very rare occasion that I could stand to be outside soaking in their glorious praise of God’s creation before my nose froze shut.
So to truly enjoy them I had to stay up late or freeze. Instead I would take quick glances, find the big dipper and revel in the fact that it was always there as dependable as the sunrise. Familiar,comforting and belonging to Alaska
That all changed when we moved to Costa Rica. Now I can look at the stars every night. Now I don’t freeze and now it gets dark every day all year long around 6 pm. Now star gazing is almost a daily event. Except that there is one big hole for me, the Big Dipper. As hard as I try I cannot find it. It seems to me all the stars are there, but they are more cluttered and shine a little less bright. Perhaps they are worn down from the heat of the day in Costa Rica. Whatever the reason the dipper continues to hide from me, as if it is angry that I left it behind and it is only available to,those who brave the conditions of Alaska, only they can enjoy the steady seven stars of gold.
Think I’m crazy? Well I got up this morning at 3:00 am to load my car up for a trip to Alaska, and as I finished I looked up slightly to the north there it was for the first time,the Big Dipper. It wasn’t as bright or majestic, but it was there, upside down and backwards, giving me just enough to let me know it approved of my pending trip. But also letting me know that as an Alaskan living in Costa Rica my world would be upside down and backwards, like it has been. But I know if I can just catch a glimpse of the dipper very so often, like a favorite wall hanging, it will help ground me in the place we now call home, and I won’t have to worry about my nose freezing shut.
Golden Grandmas
Now that mom and grandma have left us, life is returning back to normal, even though we have not yet determined what that is. It was great having them here, they are feisty, up for anything, great cooks, great company and simply fun to be with. They filled our house with love and also filled it with the sweet aroma of fried bread, sourdough, brisket and much more. We ate well and we ate much. They even helped cook for youth group, life group and a church potluck. They made it much easier for us to transition through our first holiday away from the states, and again we ate well. They got hot often, but complained little. They reveled in the simple things, such as Fox News in english and Pops ice cream parlor.
wedding cruise
Dr. Doolittle making new friends
Grandma slept well, in the car, but not in her bed. Mom swam in the pool pretty much every day and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the exercise. Grandma flourished at the beach and on our adventures despite burning her back to match the flesh of a spawning red salmon, and peeling much the same way. Mom was in her element packing for the beach, lunches, snacks, and making sure we never ran out of sun tea. She also made sure there was always some kind of fresh baked goods close at hand: Cinnamon rolls, bread, fried bread, cookies, cakes, it was all there.
Nana, Livy, Dorian walking Avellanas
Grandma never went anywhere without one of her cameras and took pictures of everywhere and everything. Then she would upload them to her Facebook page faster than Mark Zuckerberg ever dreamed possible. Yes, my 82-year-old grandma has a Facebook page and she owns that thing. Posting picture after picture, commenting on statuses and reading posts from her grandchildren and friends upload throughout the day. My kids discovered a fatal flaw in Facebook because of her, there is no great grandma relationship available. In the evenings, after helping in the kitchen she would check her Facebook, play solitaire and wait for us to let her watch Fox News. One thing is for certain, I never worked up enough courage to drive by a Pop’s ice cream shop without stopping, because I am too scared to know what would’ve happened if grandma could not get her mango ice cream cone.
The 70's gals ready to party
We miss them already and can’t wait until they return for another visit. And perhaps by then we will all be able to follow my grandma’s tweets as she travels the country searching for pretty flowers, monkeys, cows and critters worthy of an upload. And if Pop’s ever gets free wi-fi, I guarantee you will see about a dozen pictures of a double scoop mango ice cream cone being devoured on Facebook.
Here are a lot more pictures from their trip.
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- Nana
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- didn’t ask, don’t know
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- We could’ve had a lot of these pictures
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- camera ready to roll
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- If Jake can do it, I can do it.
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- more camera time
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- Jungle woman
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- what did you say?
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- camera in hand for a critter shot
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- grandma enjoyed resting in the back yard
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- Love this one because her white hair blends in with the froth of the wave
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- Don’t know didn’t ask.
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- Livy and grandma
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- The oldest grandson
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- I said Coca Cola, not Coconut.
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- waiting for our boat
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- camera in hand ready to ride
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- nana and Wolfy looking for fishes
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- mom playing the bongos on the cruise
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- a wee bit breezy
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- star gazing
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- Dr. Doolittle making new friends
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- Los Lagos at Arenal
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- wedding cruise
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- Mom preferred this over the zip line.
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- She don’t go anywhere without a camera.
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- Enjoying the Fortuna waterfall
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- Nana, Livy, Dorian walking Avellanas
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- The 70′s gals ready to party
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- This took about 17 takes
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- See Alli this is how facebook works.
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- Are you sure this is safe? I mean really really safe.
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- Mom zipping
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- good times
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- Grandma in her new favorite mode of transport
Alaska; Costa Rica similarities? It’s a breeze.
Throughout the last 7 months I have been highlighting the differences between Costa Rica and Alaska, today however I am going to key on a similarity. In Alaska, we always mused that we only had two seasons, 9 months of winter and 3 months of summer. Some would say breakup was also considered a season. Our springs were mired in the much of breakup and our falls, well they seemed to last about a week. So we endured winter and lived for summer.
Here in Costa Rica they have two seasons as well, the green or rainy season and the dry season. I posted several blogs during the rainy season, and man it sure does rain. It rains like I have never seen, like Forest Gump Vietnam rain. Well were are now a couple of months or so into the dry season and much like breakup in Alaska we are experiencing a new intra-season, the windy season. The wind here, like all great winds has a name, the Papgayo (I think there are 50 different ways to spell it) winds. These winds are fierce. They start rattling the palm trees at about 5:30 in morning, a natural alarm clock, and often die down about 12 hours later, before repeating the cycle. They are strong, gusting and loud. I mean these are the kind of winds that take a toupee to Panama. They will dry a clothes line full of clothes in 10 minutes or less. They will hurl a coconut down the street faster than a Roger Clemens fastball, post steroid use. These are seriously impressive winds. Winds that would frighten me if I was patrolling the Bering Sea in January like the old days.
a little spray taken off the top of this small comber.
another small one showing the evidence of the winds
Personally I have been enjoying them for they make being outside quite bearable. However, yesterday while hanging at the beach and doing a little surfing, I saw a glimpse into the downside of the Papagayos. You see if you have ever tried to sit on the beach in a bathing suit, during a wind storm,it is akin to being shot at by dozens of kids with airsoft guns. Basically, you are being sandblasted, the same method we used to remove paint off of our old steel boats in Alaska. It is slightly unpleasant. So to escape you jump in the water with your surf board to catch some waves. The problem there is that the wind causes a wind chop that has you taking constant green water over your bow, making it very difficult to navigate. Furthermore it pushes wherever it wants you to go, which is not where you want to be. The good news, if the hurricane is blowing off shore, then you get the perfect barrel for surfing, if you know what you are doing, and I don’t. So I usually end up upside down, holding my breath on the bottom of the ocean waiting for the thundering of the ocean to quiet down so that I can emerge to get some air, pull my surfboard back to the water as it flutters in the wind like a kite, paddle back into the wind, and try again.
spray warning
more wind clouds
but it does lend itself to some nice sunsets and cloud formations
So there you have it, Costa Rica is just like Alaska, two seasons and each with their good and bad points. Alaska’s interim breakup is messy and makes it difficult to be outside, Costa Rica’s windy season is messy and makes it difficult to be on the beach. A couple big differences, although I do take a ton of water over the bow, I don’t have to worry about icing up, and during AK’s breakup your toupee is not only safe, but a good way to keep your noggin warm. Here in CR, unless you are using superglue, best put that thing in lock up for January and February and get a little sun on your dome, after you sandblast off all the dead skin of course.
Here is a short video, with the full sounds of the winds in our back yard.
Weekend at Arenal
Living in Anchorage, when we wanted to get away for the weekend we would load up the minivan, point her south and head down to the Kenai Peninsula. In two and a half hours we could be in Kenai, an hour further we would be in Homer. It didn’t matter much which one, just as long as we were out of town.
Traveling view of Lake Arenal.
Well the same thing applies here in Costa Rica. With mom and grandma visiting we figured it was a great time to head to Arenal, one of the local active volcanos in Costa Rica. We loaded up the 12 seater with 11 bodies, and a bundle of bags and took off in hopes of catching a glimpse of the molten red lava spewing into the night sky.
Now Costa Rica is know for its diversiveness, and we live in the dry region famous for great beaches. We were headed towards the rain forest and jungles. The drive is about 4 hours and I like to divide it into three sections. The first section I would call the highway, from here to Liberia and a little beyond. The roads are well traveled, pretty straight and blast through small town after small town. The second section takes you into the hills where the winds await. There are sparse trees, wind farms, and a giant lake littered with wind surfers and their neon colored kites speckling the white capped lake. From inside the car, it looks cold, very cold. It reminds me of a lonesome bay in Alaska on cold blustery summer day. In reality, it is about 80 degrees out, and the wind, 20-25 mph, is a welcomed coolant.
Watching fish.
Once pass the sparse hills we enter the jungle, clouds appear, fog is present and the edge of the road disappears into the vivd green dripping jungle. There are a myriad of one lane bridges, rivers and eroding, albeit paved, roads along the way. The temperature is significantly cooler and the air becomes heavy with moisture. It is af you are driving into Jurrassic Park.
Contrary to what you may think, we are not making that bridge sag.
Four hours into our expedition we arrived at our destination, Los Lagos, a hotel / resort known for its spa and hot springs. But it had much more than we anticipated, a small butterfly farm, a frog farm, a crocodile farm and it was nestled right on the shoulder of the active Arenal volcano. It was very lush, very green well kept and catered towards tourists:us. It was perfect for this party of 11. For the kids it had three fast water slides, for the adults 7 different hot springs, pools and a spa.
At least one of them found the camera lens.
Grandma kept getting in trouble for not paying attention. The best part, she never knew it.
Happy, sad, scared, nervous? Not sure, perhaps a mix.
During our two day tour we decided to take advantage of some of the must do activites. We decided on the Ecoglide canopy / zip line tour, horseback riding for some, and a hike to the La Fortuna waterfall. In between all this we would soak our weary bodies in the hot springs and sip virgin pina colados served out of pineapples, can’t get much touristier than that.
Our Tico coffee at our new favorite place to eat in La Fortuna, La Choza. If you visit, you must eat there.
The zip line was the highlight for most. It consisted of 15 different zip lines at varying lengths, heights and speeds. All fantastically fun and exhiliariting. But what really set it over the top was the Tarzan swing perilously awaiting you in the middle of of the tour. Of course I was offered up as the sacrificial Tarzan to go first. As I eased forward onto the shaky mesh metal platform hanging over what felt like the abyss, they strapped me in the never explaining what was about to occur. The guides hooked two thin, weary looking and frayed white lines into my harness. They tugged, tightened and pulled me right next to a gate overlooking a 1000 foot drop ( at least it looked that far) and told me to press up against the gate. At this point I thought they would explain what was going to happen, instead “click” the gate was open. “Wait what is going on” I stammered, “relax, just sit” and I as bent my knees to sit I began free falling to the earth below. My intestines just about flew out of my mouth as I began screaming “NO, NO, NO”. It felt as if the two puny ropes had failed and I was going to be a ball of mush on the side of a mountain. But then the lines gently grabbed hold and began rocketing me straight up to the sky, inches away from the canopy above, and I began swinging, like Tarzan, back and forth, inches away from tree trunks. It was scary, it was exhiliarting and it was fun. The best part was watching those who went after me, knowing what they were going through, but also knowing they had the advantage of knowing what was going to happen. I must acknowledge those who took the leap, Tracy, Dorian, Alli, Jeremy, Olivia, and Grandma. Yes my 83 year old grandma took the leap screaming ‘WHEEEEE!! You’re going to miss out” Much like the Geico pig. She loved it. Mom, well she got strapped in, stepped up to the gate, and then couldn’t go through with it. But she got close.
Can you see the toucan? I can.
After the two hour tour, we rushed a group to the horse riding tour while the rest of us elected to rest our weary bodies in the hot springs. I hear the horseback tour was awesome, but I did not go as I prefered not to have saddle sores for the remainder of our stay. Besides, the last time I did the tour it ended up being a little more adventurous than I bargained for. They however loved it, especially my wife who got to ride her favorite kind of horse.
Returning to the stables after a month long cow herd.
After an excellent, gigando dinner at La Choza in La Fortuna, the next morning, we headed out for our hike to the waterfall in La Fortuna. The hike was down the side of a mountian on steps made of perforated concrete which allowed the massive vegetation to grow through and around it, almost engulfing it as part of the earth. I am not sure how many steps there were, I stopped counting after one trillion, but at least they were of varying heights angles and depths to keep it interesting. The trip down was worth the view, the trip up was tenuous. Next time we are packing a lunch and our swimming trunks and enjoying the view for a while.
Is that Bear Gryls?
Although we did not get to see any lava, or even the very top of the the volcano, it was a weekend to be remembered, a great way to spend the last one before school starts up again. We got to see a lot of critters; the infamous coati begging on the side of the road,monkeys chilling and posing, toucans, iguanas, butterflies, crocodiles, frogs and even a sloth. I am extremely proud of grandma as she did each an every adventure set before her, living life to the fullest. But most of all I am proud of her for surviving three days and two nights without her facebook. That my friends was a real challenge!
This is about as much of the volcano as we ever saw.
Here is a short video compilation of our weekend for you to enjoy. Until our next adventure, I need some sleep.
A species related but a breed apart
Being from Alaska and commercial fishing for a good portion of my life I saw a breed of man uncommon to the populated world. Men in search of adventure, the outdoors, fortunes and solitude. They would leave their home town, point their compass north, sling a backpack over their Carhart covered shoulders and eventually arrive in Alaska, seeking to find out for themselves whether it had all to offer that they had heard. These men were hard working, adventurous, self sustaining and usually rough around the edges. Seeking jobs as a commercial fisherman, construction workers, or even digging for gold. With the advent of the PFD that changed a little as families seeking to cash in on the “free money” began migrating from all over the world. But still, the hunter, gatherer, former military breed found its way to the last frontier and they fit in well. I have met countless of these men always curious what drove them north, in awe of their stories. I could not relate for I was on of the few born and raised into the culture.
Now living here in Costa Rica, I have identified another breed of man, a species of man related to the Alaskan immigrant. They too are adventurous leaving behind school, family and friends to venture to the land of golden beaches. However I think I have detected a slight difference. These men, for the most part, can not be labeled as hard working. They are more of a free spirit, often and usually a surfer. Willing to sleep on the beach or a hovel nearby, wherever the wind blows them. They own 2 pairs of board shorts, tattered and well used, a surfboard which they take care of like a prized sports car, and a bicycle. They give surfing lessons or sell trinkets or medicinal herbs for food money. They are very slender with no extra fat, tanned to a dark black or golden brown, shaggy haired, and good surfers. Although related in the spirit of adventure, they are distant in lifestyle. And as foreign as they are to me, I am inspired by both types of men.
watching a couple of those free spirits getting ready to launch.
You see these men aren’t living in the mold of what the world thinks they should. They aren’t bound by the chains of security. They are living, chasing their dreams and doing something adventurous, much to the dismay of their parents I am sure. The older I get the more I realize that life is truly a gift from God, a gift not to be wasted. I know that often this breed of man I have described here in Costa Rica does end up wasting their life, at least by my definition, but they have to potential to do something big. They are not scared, they are not easily offended and they truly don’t care what others think. They would be great disciples, able to live on very litte, adaptable, personable and good surfers. They have a gift, although they don’t realize it, that could be honed to increase the kingdom of God, which would add value to every life.
Another couple showing off, or perhaps this is really where he sleeps.
So I find myself in a bit of a conundrum, admiring their free spirit but shaking my head at their lack of responsibility or direction. I am envious of the life experience they are gaining, but doubtful they will use it for anything positive. But mostly, I am envious of their surfing ability. So in 2012 I pray that perhaps God would use me to learn from these men, what inspired them to come here and what are their aspiritions beyond this. I am eager to hear what they have to say, and I hope it goes beyond what I “think” it should be. And although I may hit them up for some surfing tips, I think I’ll pass on the herbs.
The worst kind. I know this kid has potential.
6 month update
As this will be my last post of 2011 and my 55th post of the year (my goal) I figured it would be great to give our six month update. I already covered the year in our 2011 Christmas Letter, so I wanted to get you all caught up on where we are at in our little adventure.
Currently we have car, and we just recently got our bank account. Those were two primary things to check of our list. Next on the list is to work on residency and to get our Costa Rica driver’s license. Both tasks will require trips to San Jose, four and a half hour trips of which I am not fond.
We have really begun to settle in. We find it relatively easy to meet people here and to make friends. I find that we have an instant built-in bond. The bond of being a loco expat that has moved to Costa Rica. We all have our reasons for being here, but whatever that reason we are the few crazy ones that have done it, so that gives us an instant connection.
Part of the Godfrey/ Gugel clan setting up camp at Playa Danta.
Life in the Guanacaste region is slow, and by that I mean there is not a lot going on here. The kids have a few school activities, there are a few activities for adults, but there is no movie theater, no bowling, no malls nothing but beaches, bars, restaurants and tourist traps. So our definition of fun has truly evolved. As for Dorian, Jeremy, Ben Jake, Kassie and I, we like big waves for boogie boarding or surfing. It has become our go to activity, and we really enjoy it. Tracy just likes going to remote beaches and relaxing, Alli goes where her friends are and Livy doesn’t much care for the beach. Hopefully we can get her surfing. I have been helping coach the boys basketball team, and it looks like I will continue to do so into the new year. Tracy continues to sing with the church worship team and we both attend Bible studies with our relative gender.
I have enlisted a couple of my friends to teach me the art of spear fishing. They are eager to do so and I am eager to learn as my affinity for killing fish has not weaned from my Alaska days. Until then I will continue to stay on top of the water.
Mystery fish in the surf, a common sighting.
Another view, begging for a spear fisher.
Me on the hunt!
We still have bouts of home-sickness, especially during that holidays. We look forward to visiting, hopefully this summer, but it has been a huge blessing to have Mom and Grandma here during the holidays to bring a sliver of home to Costa Rica.
Jake and Kassie in a Costa Rican hot tub.
We are looking forward to doing missionary trip to Nicarauga with our church and have been involved in a small way with aiding local schools. Unexpectedly, we have a found a huge need amongst the local expats as well as the Ticos, so perhaps that is the path God is taking us down. Wherever he is leading, we will do our best to follow
Kassie and Ben watching daddy.
So there you have it. The biggest events from the three-month update has been our local bank account and the arrival of mom and grandma. At this rate, within two years we should have our local driver’s license, and residency sometime before we die. Until then, if you read this blog you will have to endure endless pictures of the beach, sunsets, and Godfrey’s in shorts. I figure by next rainy season, we will all be in sweaters. Pura Vida.
so this is Christmas
Instead of sleds, snowboards, socks, jackets and hats, our gifts are surfboards, skim boards, shorts, tank tops and flip-flops. Instead of hot cocoa by the fire, we go watch the sunset on the beach testing out our new beach equipment and begging for ice-cold water. Instead of shutting all the doors and windows and watching the snow fall, we open up everything and lay by the pool dangling our feet into the water and long for the Papagou winds to flurry across our face.
Jake showing off his new guitar
Jake and Kassie showing off their new pool horse.
Me offering moral support.
It doesn’t sound like Christmas, but does it feel like Christmas? It depends. I suppose it feels like Christmas to those born and raised here. I suppose it feels like Christmas to this who have been supplanted here decades ago, but it does not “feel” like Christmas to us, at least not yet.
Dorian sporting his new board shorts on Christmas Day.
A different kind of Christmas.
Jake submarining
boys will be boys.
last one in is a roadkill iguana.
It helped to have mom and grandma here baking and cooking until their backs ached. It helped having 9 different pies and cakes, a well cooked turkey and countless traditional side dishes.It also helped being able to fly to Florida to do a little shopping before the big day. It helped having a great Christmas Eve service at Beach Community Church to ground us. But it was vastly different from any Christmas I have ever had. It wasn’t bad, it was just different. I have a sneaky suspicion the next one won’t feel so different.
Now on to the next holiday, New Year’s eve. I hear they do it big down here, but you’ll just have to tune in to see. We’ll see how different that one feels.
Grandma on Christmas Day
Watch out Grandma!
Too late.
Mom watching the sunset.
Until then, time for me to put on my new flip-flops, my new Billabong board shorts, my new tank top, grab a boogie board, check out the tide on my new tide watch and hit the beach for a little surfing. Nah, still doesn’t feel like Christmas. Oh well, I just need an iced latte with some whip cream and I’ll cope.
Daddy in action
Jeremy trying out his new skim board on a Christmas sunset.
Whirlwind
I have been off the blogosphere for a bit as we made a whirlwind trip back to America for our 3 month reprieve. You see until you have residency here in CR, we have to leave the country every 3 months, get your passport stamped, and then you can return again. You don’t have to go to America, you just have to go. However, we have had round trip tickets the last couple of times and we decided this time would be a good time to do some Christmas shopping and to pick up Mom and Grandma and bring them home. A quick relaxing one week trip to Orlando. However, I have discounted the effect the Pura Vida life has had on us. We are used to the slow pace, the anything goes mantra that permeates this small country. Orlando is anything but that, and Orlando’s malls are the exact opposite of that, an area where we spent the vast majority of our time.
You see when we travel we now travel with a mission, shop for stuff that is to expensive or does not exist here, see some movies in english, eat at places we don’t get to eat at, and force ourselves to have some fun. What we failed to realize is that there is no relaxing that fits into the following schedule.
Jake digging into one of the far too many desserts we ate. Thanks Mom & Grandma!
Pausing at the Florida Mall for a picture.
Day one, shop, pick up Mom and Grandma from the airport.
Day two, eat, shop, eat, shop, get home exhausted.
Day three, eat, shop, eat, shop, movie, drive, shop, eat. Get home exhausted.
Day four, eat, eat, shop, shop, drive, look for specific presents, drive, keep looking, drive, pass out from exhaustion.
Kassie, Jake and snakes.
Exhausted shoppers. Note the long sleeve shirts.
Mall scenes
Day five, drive 3 hours to West Palm Beach to visit Dorian’s potential college, take an 1 1/2 hour tour, eat, drive 3 hours home, go to a movie, maybe catch a nap during the flick in a very loud Imax theater, eat and sleep.
Dorian's welcome to Palm Beach Atlantic University.
University views.
The view from the street side dorms.
The chapel.
Inside the chapel.
The library, it was very impressive.
Library
Day Six, last-minute shopping, all that stuff we forgot, drive like crazy to find it with minimal success. Shop, check mom and grandma into a hotel near the airport, go to dinner at Downtown Disney, a super hectic place, lose Olivia, find Olivia, get back at the house to pack about 4 hours behind schedule.
I think he is giving Alli the cold shoulder.
The Millenia Mall doing its best to get us in the spending spirit.
Another mall another picture.
Like father like son.
Day seven, get up early, drop off rental car, get to airport 2.5 hours early so that 9 people and 12 bags can get checked in, which is a blog in and of itself, fly 2.5 hours to CR, drive 4.5 hours back to Flamingo in the dark, open door, breathe.
Livy and Jake taking a break.
Day eight, sleep, and surf, back home.
It is funny, but as soon as we hit the front door of our house, or even the street in front of our house Tracy and I both breathe a huge sigh of relief. We are home, it is familiar, it is relaxing and busy, but it is where we are now living our life. America is great, it is convenient, it is busy, bustling, big and beautiful, but it wears us out. We got a lot done, visited Dorian’s potential college Palm Beach Atlantic, bought a lot of Christmas Presents, sent a ton of mail, lost Olivia at Downtown Disney, and found Olivia at Downtown Disney and ate at a dozen different restaurants. But I feel tense the whole time I am there, like I am not moving fast enough, like I have too many places to eat, too many things to do, too many choices to make. Once I get here my choices are the pool, the beach or stay home. It is simple, it is slow, it is nice and we like it. And as we walked in the door and realized that daddy forgot to pay the bills so our internet and phones were shut off, we smiled relaxed and said Pura Vida.
Fishing for a birthday present
Shopping for brithdays can be a little tricky here in Costa Rica, especially out in the boonies where we live. But one thing that Dorian wanted for his eighteenth that we could provide was to go fishing. So we arranged a 1/2 days charter out of Potrero to see what he could catch. Of course I didn’t want him to fall overboard or anything, so I decided that I should probably tag along, just in case.
Now if you have ever read this blog you know Dorian likes to fish. Quite often he seems to catch the most and the biggest fish on our trips. He also puts in the most time fishing. He likes to kill fish. Just type in fishing or Dorian in the search box to the right and you will see.
Our guide promising us some big fish.
We have not done a lot of charter fishing in our time. So this charter trip was going to be a pretty new affair. It started great. A small skiff backed into the surf to pick us up from the beach. The water was warm and as we waded knee deep out to the skiff, I could see there was some cloud cover, but no rain in sight. Our vessel was a 30 foot fiberglass inboard with a soft top and cabin for sun and rain protection if needed. There was a single well used white leather fishing chair on the back deck. As soon as we let loose from the anchor the two deckhands got to work. Within 5 minutes they had 5 lines in the water and we were trolling. Within another 15 minutes Dorian had landed two Spanish Mackerel. All this before we even left Potrero Bay.
Elephant Rock, no fish no elephants.
Now being from Alaska my idea of fishing is a little different than what we were doing here. You see when I fish I like to get my hands dirty, put on the bait, tie on lures, set the lines and most of all set the hook. Here our two tico guides did all the work for us while we watched intently. You could tell they had time on the water. Their skin was dark and dry, from the sun and salty water. They hand sunglass rings around their eyes, and the youngest ones white logo t-shirt was as thin as a toilet paper, with small fish stains all around it. They worked in unison, each knowing what the other was doing, while the slipper skipper up on the flying bridge drove the boat. The deckhands were thin and whispy, their clothes dirty, they were happy talkative and fun. The skipper, he was nice, but he was a big man, his clothes much cleanier and we didn’t get to talk to him much.
The wind was a steady 10 knots out of the east, but it was a welcome wind making the temperature just about perfect for shorts and t-shirts. There were clouds, but sparsely strewn amongst the blue sky, and this aftternoon the water was the perfect place to be.
Dorian in action.
After his initial catch the fishing slowed a bit as we headed out to deeper waters. We fished hard between some local islands, Elephant Rock, the Catalinas and the Mexican Sombrero. We managed to catch a couple of bonito and saw some neat birds, but that was about it. After several hours we trolled our way back into Potrero Bay. As we reached the mouth of the bay, Dorian landed another Spanish Mackerel. Then all of the sudden two rods went down at once and we both landed a nice silvery Pacific Mackerel, about 6 pounds a piece. Then the bite was on. For the next hour there was a fish on the line every 3 or 4 minutes. We were pulling them in as fast as we could. It was hard to take my eyes of the golden sunset, but I knew fish needed to be landed, so I did. The gear was too big for the fish we were catching, but every once in a while one of them would put a little extra fight to up the excitement. It was fast, furious and fun.
Two men.
By the end of the day we had landed at least a dozen mackerel, let several fish go, ate an expertly butchered fresh pineapple and watched an amazing sunset. It wasn’t fancy but it was effective and it was a fun way for a dad to spend the day with his 18 year old son. The next night we ate like kings with mackerel 3 ways. We even shared some with our guards, life long Ticos who said they were as good as any fish they have ever had in Costa Rica. High praise. Perhaps next year when he is going to college in Florida, he will take me out deep sea fishing for my birthday for the big ones, as long as I pay the way I’m sure it is a date.
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Thanksgiving Costa Rica Style
You know they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here? It is just like any other Thursday, except hotter. Okay, we knew the holidays would be much different, that traditions would change, that our perception of what a holiday was would likely change, we were right. For as long as I can remember, Thanksgiving has been major tradition at our house, old friends and family we only see once a year, basketball games, fried turkey, same old side dishes, new dishes, dozens of pies, naps, games and then Black Friday, Tracy’s favorite holiday. That is what we did, every year. No questions asked as you can see from these past posts. (Tradition GAS Holiday Roads )Well now, at least this year, it was quite different. This year we attended a big feast and gathering at our church. There was a lot of turkey,side dishes, desserts, some games and a lot of fellow-shipping. It was certainly fun, but it wasn’t tradition. It was new, it was hot and it didn’t feel like “Thanksgiving”. It felt more like a very fun church potluck. Plus, there were no pies, other than the single serving apple pies Tra made.
some traditions can never go away! Speedy Buns Rule!!!
If you could only smell the finished product, your keyboard would be drenched in drool.
do you see any pies on this dessert table?
Furthermore, as I stated before, Costa Rica obviously does not celebrate Thanksgiving, so it was just a normal day. No festivities, lots of people at the beach, surfing, swimming, shopping etc. etc. Just like every other day. It appears that they did have their version of Black Friday in San Jose, but it was limited to a few stores. Besides it’s not really Black Friday if you aren’t freezing to death waiting to get inside the store. And 50% off of “way to expensive” is not really that great of a deal. However, I took the time to teach our friend and guard how to say Happy Thanksgiving in English, and told him to tell every Americano he sees. Within an hour he was stuffed. After two days he told me “too much Happy Thanksgiving” signaling that he could not eat another bite, as he held up yet another meal on a paper plate. It may take some time, but I will soon teach him the ways of the over indulging Americanos.
Now this looks traditional. It was very yummy as well!
Dave Olsen keeping the kids happy. There are no fiestas in Costa Rica without a Pinata.
one view of BCC with over 100 guests. Note BCC Feud playing on the screen.
another view.
Kassie patiently waiting for food.
Mom and Alli waiting to eat.
Kids table playing the feud.
So we had fun, but it wasn’t the traditional frenzied weekend that we have become accustomed to loving. It was quite relaxing, maybe a little too Pura Vida for our American souls. Perhaps over time we will change our view of Thanksgiving and become accustomed to wearing t-shirts and shorts, and spending the evening watching the sunset on the beach, as we did this year. Perhaps that will be our new tradition. One thing for sure, no matter what, next time there must be pie.
Here are some shots of our Thanksgiving late afternoon and evening at Flamingo Beach.
Jeremy waiting on one last wave
Jake and KassieKassieFlamingo
Dad and Dorian having a Thanksgiving boogie board battle.
Jeremy and Dad battling it out
Kassie
Alli searching for jewelry prospects.
Flamingo Breaker
Ben working hard on Thanksgiving for a wave with all that extra turkey weight.
Ben
Dad swimming hard
Never spent Thanksgiving in the Pacific Ocean before.
A Turtle’s Pace Part II
After paying our fees, at an open air shack filled with 5 Ticos wearing some semblance of shirts with turtles on them, making them obvious official turtle guides, we embarked on the second half of our journey. $8 for non-residents, was the fee for our “guided” tour of the beach. There were about 15 students and 10 adults, a salty group ready to stretch their legs. After money changed hands, we were issued our official green passes, and then canvas bags, which we were informed were to be used to gather trash. Cool, we pay to work. So that’s how socialism works. As we began walking towards the beach, the rain clouds moved in. No worries, as long as the turtles were there it would all be worth it. They were not.
Some major log moving going onLet's not move this one, it's too comfy.
I knew this was the only turtle we would see on this day.
We walked and walked and walked. We saw signs of turtles, drag marks, egg pieces and even a big old dead turtle. But no baby turtles and certainly no big momma turtles. After trudging for what seemed like miles in the black gritty sand, our guide finally spoke and asked us to help clean up the driftwood so the turtles would have more nesting room. So not only did we have to pay to see nothing and pick up trash, we had a good 1/2 hour of hard labor. We had resigned to our fate that we had just paid $8 per person to clean up trash, move driftwood, walk in the rain, and do things we could do every day in Guanacaste for free. Perhaps we could find turtles on the other side of the beach. I was clearly not hopeful. For after conversing with several of the turtle attendees who had attended several turtle coming outs in the past, the best time to come was very early in the morning, or at night, not 9 am. As I walked back along the surf lane allowing my feet to be washed off by the ever beating surf, I noticed a small portion of our group gathering up the beach a little. I altered course . As I walked into the small circle I heard cameras clicking, oohs and aahs, and saw some pretty big smiles. There were several baby turtles emerging from beach!
We see turtles emerging from the eggs buried in the depth of the black sands.
It was amazing to watch, first about six turtles, then 15, 20, 40, 60, 64 at final count. It was like a clown car at a circus, they just kept coming and coming directly out of the black sand. Slowly moving, covered in dirt trying to find their way. A few knew right where to go, others wandered off to the left or the right, but eventually they all seemed to at least point to surf. Maybe not directly, but at least at an angle that would get them there. The journey ahead of them was long and arduous, for they were about the size of a silver dollar, and about 1/3 the weight. Every footprint, stick or pebble presented an obstacle. A few got flipped over, some got stuck, some had to alter course completely, but all were determined to make it to their destination. It was then that I realized we were the turtles. We had a long and arduous journey, we had to alter course, we had to climb up and down the footprints left by nature, but we were determined to make it to our destination. The only difference, the baby turtles got stronger with every flip of their flippers, and we got a little weaker with every pothole.
Finding their way.
guess what I have!
At least now the journey to the surf had been worth it. We had seen what very few had ever witnessed. The sheer determination and pure beauty of God’s creation. The instinctive drive to survive no matter how hard. Events like these always affirm my belief in a creator. It seems incredulous to me to believe something so perfect as the circle of life could ever happen by accident. If you ever take a quiet moment to think about the true miracle of life, both in humans and creatures, of flora and fauna, it seems impossible to me to come to any conclusion other than the conclusion that it is planned. All of it. Each and every morsel. And nothing will affirm my faith in that more than seeing it in action with my own two eyes.
For many more pictures, video, and commentary enjoy our following two minute documentary.
P.S. On the way in I related a story about a teenager leading us on a false shortcut. On the way home we let a teenager lead us to the best Pizza place in all of Costa Rica. “The road is a little sketchy” he warned, but that pizza is good. When a road is barely passable by bicycle, covered in spider webs, and drops down 100 feet a time; that my friends is not the sign of good pizza place. This trail made the previous trail look like the Autobahn. It was steep, tiny, overgrown, full of fissures, gorges and gashes, muddy, slick and deadly. In short, it was scary. However once we turned down, there was no turning back. What we wouldn’t do for great pizza. How was the pizza? We will never know, it was closed for the season. Needless to say, those of us driving were not too happy with our teenage connoisseur. If you want directions I will give them freely, however be aware because there may be a former Gold Coast teenager roaming the roads chanting, ” the road is sketchy, but the pizza is good, the road is sketchy, but the pizza is good!”
A Turtles Pace, Part I
“Can you drive us for a school field trip to see the turtles?” ” Sure, that would be great, we’ll make a family day of it”
That’s how it began, a simple conversation between father and child. In Costa Rica nothing is ever simple. You see the turtles have seasons here, there is a season when they lay their eggs, and a season when the eggs hatch. We were hoping to catch the season of hatching. The plan, a school caravan of 5 cars heading south to Ostional to watch turtles. The reality, the drive was the adventure.
Upon loading up at the school we embarked on our journey, our minivan full sans one seat. Remember this is not the Godfrey van of Alaska, the V8 4X4 with 20 inches of clearance. Nay, this is the 4 cylinder rear wheel drive Hyundai with 2 inches of clearance. Great for running loads of kids around town, not so great for jungle treks.
Typical sight as we begin our journey
another typical sight
this one not so typical, but cute.
We knew we had to pass through Avellenas, which is a bit of a pot holed dirt road, a slow but steady road with one way bridges and pot holes big enough to swallow a Yugo. A bumpy 30 minute trip, but passable, even for the G-van. However, we did not know it would get much trickier once we got past Avellenas. The roads quickly became muddier, slippier, pot holier, and simply not fun. I was very happy that I had got the G-van washed the day prior. Things got worse when 20 minutes past Avellenas Luka, a student, informed our lead driver of a “short cut”. I thought we were already on the short cut. One swift left turn and we were driving on what would barely pass for an ATV trail back in AK. It was one of those trails where the grass grows in the middle of the dirt road, and there are grooves on either side. Onward we pressed, me dodging trenches, gorges and boulders. Tracy holding her breath and saying “this isn’t right, this isn’t right!”. She was right. Just then the 4X4 truck in front of us plowed across the river dividing the road and scurried up the muddy slope on the other side. It reminded me of a Chevy truck commercial shot in slow motion with a giant V8 dually. However, I told myself we could do it. Shoot his front tires only disappeared for a couple of seconds, and he didn’t look like he was sinking. I hit the gas hard, not intending to lay off until we were safely up the slope 80 feet away. I stayed on the gas through spray of the river that engulfed our van,through the rise of steam smoldering us and through the screaming kids and praying wife. I even stayed on it when I felt the wheels gently lift from the bottom of the riverbed just for a second there on the opposite bank.
This is the nice road.
One of the many one lane bridges
Alas, with a little spinning we made it up the other side, and I think I let a breath out that I had been holding. No big deal. However, just a 100 yards up the trail we ran into a mud bog that would cause Big Foot the monster truck to pause in his tracks. The red tail lights in front of us glared on, and I knew we had met our match. It was time to turn around. A feat which resulted in me dislocating my brand new front plate, and back bumper during my 16 point turn. Joy, for a 3 month old car. With much maneuvering we were able to turn around and found the better “road”. It was about 30% better. But at least it had bridges, though they were all single lane. And its potholes were about smaller, but could still hide a full-grown gator.
The tiny little stream in our path
Ready to cross
the roads slowly degrading
One of the nicer mud pits we traversed. Tracy was too scared to take pictures of the bad ones.
We knew we were close when we saw water that wasn't on the road.
Eventually, after a half-dozen one way bridges, hundreds of muddy water filled jaw jarring pot holes and what seemed like 10 hours we arrived at Ostional, eager to see the thousands upon thousands of turtles. The journey was long, treacherous, dangerous, muddy, painful and stressful. When I finally put the car into park, I felt the muscles in my shoulders and back release, having been fully tensed for the last two hours. I have been on many 18 hour drives that offered 1/10th the excitement and stress, and much more pavement, but the payoff was promising, little baby turtles.
To be continued………
Sail Away on the Marlin Del Ray
With the dry season now upon us, the only logical thing to do is to take to the water, which we did. BCC sponsored a sunset cruise aboard the Marlin Del Ray and the day couldn’t have been better. There were a smattering of clouds in the piercing blue sky, a slight breeze and perfect air temperature to be skimming across the slightly rippled blue sea. On board the cruise about 60 family and friends, drinks, fruit and food provided.
Our chariot awaits
Nary 20 minutes out of Tamarindo we spotted some humpback whales, a calf and her momma and we veered course to ride next to them. They put on a nice show for all of us, breaching, spewing and generally delighting all those on board before swimming off into the deep. Immediately after getting back on course we were greeted by some dolphins who playfully glided by each hull on the 60 foot catamaran. Right along side of them was a small manta ray sunning his wingtips. Soon after that we sailed upon some Leatherback turtles having an intimate moment. They seemed slightly irritated as we slid by them 10 feet away. In between all this were fish jumping, snakes swimming, and the wind and sea slapping gently against the hulls of the boat. On board, kids and adults were laughing in glee with every new sighting.
Thar she blows! Whale watchers moving over the the starboard side.
Once we reached our destination, a private beach, the anchor was dropped and everyone hit the water with snorkels, noodles or life jackets. The water was not the clearest, but it was clear enough to see the plethora of colorful fish and sea life along the reef. I don’t know what kind of fish I saw but I do know that they were neon blue, yellow, rainbow-colored, small, large, fast slow and all curious. The beach itself was empty except for those of us from the boat, so it was ripe for a walk or a little beach combing. It was a small dark beach sheltered by small cliffs on each side, making the bay it hosted nearly glass calm. No surf to speak of, but great for some swimming and snorkeling.
Jeremy and Octavia checking on the anchor.
The day finished with some food, singing and a typical Costa Rica sunset, the money shot. However, they always seem to be a little more impressive from the water. Something about being able to look back onto the beach having the same view the sun has makes it slightly more breathtaking. Cameras were smoking as their shutters flashed, and there was a slight quietness and stillness that enveloped the whole vessel as we waited for that magical moment when the sun disappeared over the edge of the world. We were not disappointed, as we never are. And as we were shuttled back to the beach in the 20 foot fiberglass, white open skiff, which got us close enough to wade back to the beach in the warm Pacific water, I realized that this was November, and we had just all been kissed by a touch of sunburn. I also realized that our reality had changed from shoveling snow, driving on icy roads and trying to keep my bald head warm, to trying to stay cool, dealing with jellyfish stings, and trying to make sure my bald head doesn’t burn. It is a change, but we are doing our best to cope.
P.S. There are so many pictures that I just put them in slideshow below for you to enjoy.
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Any reason to party?
Back in the states Halloween was a pretty big deal. In fact, if I recall correctly, the very first date Tra and I ever went on was near that very holiday, at a harvest fest type of event. I recall having to be prepared every Halloween for the slew of kids to come parading through the neighborhood. With every open door a shot of cold air would rush across our skin, and handfuls of candy would be dropped in the bags of ghouls, ghosts, goblins and ???. In Costa Rica there is no Halloween. Perhaps it is because they have a plethora of other holidays, or perhaps it is because it was created by the candy moguls in America, or perhaps it is because chocolate can be very hard to come by for the locals. Either way we didn’t expect much of anything, we were wrong.
a rock star from NOW, an American army guy, and a flapper
Ben from "Not of the World" Note the tat.
Jeremy and his first victim of the night.
Ben and Brockzilla, two rock stars from different sides of the track, not standing out at all in a packed La Paz gym.
There is a pretty large contingent of Ex-Pats in this area, and they hold on to their American / Canadian traditions very strongly, as we are quickly learning. If there is a slight reason to celebrate or party, they will gather in droves. Superbowl, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Columbus Day, doesn’t matter, if it connects them to home, they embrace it. Halloween, other than being a floating holiday is no different.
our flapper girl
Kassie and Jake harvesting some subsistence candy.
In the area we live there are three primary english schools, La Paz, Country Day, and Gold Coast Academy. All three private schools, all full of Americans, Canadians and French ( don’t ask me). All three of them held festivities on Friday night.
Livy in her award-winning costume, the one in white.
all about the candy
Our evening began right at sunset; humidity still thick in the air, the hot night air enveloping those in monkey suits, ghost sheets and more. I saw more sweat stains than at a July jalapeno chili bake in Texas. We hit La Paz first, the school had a special area for candy gathering, and it seems every english speaking kid in the country was there, adding to the humidity. As we weaved our way through the blue mat maze of on-air conditioned classrooms, we were met by princess’s, gold people, Lego’s and many more homemade costumes. There is no Wal-Mart, so creativity had to be high. Although sheer torture for the camera wielding adults caught in the never-ending snake of children, it was fun for the kids as their bags weighed down under the girth of the mixed tico candy. The school also had a small haunted house, and a gym full of games for the kiddos with prizes and awards. To top it off they had a bake sale and hamburgers and hotdogs off the grill. It was an all out event that required traffic control and parking on an empty over grown lot next to the school.
still waiting in line for some more loot.
Like, who's this creeper pretending to be Shaggy? ( a good friend, the real creeper is over his right shoulder)
Next we made our way to Country Day School, where they had a similar event going on. However, their highlight was the haunted house, and that is what we set our sights on, at least those of us brave enough to endure the close tight humid quarters. As we made our way through the draping of dark plastic we were assaulted by every creature imaginable from every angle, our feet, our heads, straight on, they were everywhere, and it appears that they were heavily dehydrated. It was a fun adventure with blue lights, water , at least we hope it was water, and much more. And talking to some of the creatures afterward, it was labor intensive, hot and draining, but they did not complain, instead they did their best to elicit screams and cries, and I am sure I heard a few, even from within our own party. Again, there were games for the kids, bake sales and some BBQ pork sandwiches. Lots of decorations, and balloons that were getting heavily assaulted by anyone under 4 foot tall.
no parking on the dance floor baby!
We finished the evening as chaperones at the Freaky Tiki, and event semi-coordinated by Alli as the event planner for her school. The event was made for the older kids as a costume dance event. Now I don’t know what qualifies as a good dance, but if it is a bloody red pool and fountain, lots of sweaty kids dancing all together, loud never-ending music, pizza and very loud never-ending music, then this was a successful dance. Again, it seems every english speaking kid from every local school was there. Apparently things have changed form when I used to go to dances. In my day you asked a girl to dance, you went out to the floor together and danced next to your buds, making funny faces and did your best to be cool. What we witnessed was just a glob of people all dancing together. I never did see two people dancing. The smallest group was six. However, I could’ve been hallucinating because between the unbearable thumping, heat, strobe light, and extra curricular lightning storm, I am not totally sure what we witnessed. But I am pretty sure there were no nefarious on goings nor any grinding going on during our watch! The dance went from 7-11 and was thumping the whole time.
a pool of blood surrounded by tombstones.
The fountain of blood, created by Mr. S. the demented.
strobe light limbo.
It was pretty much packed like this the whole night.
The freaks come out at night.
I have never been so exhausted after a Halloween night. I am convinced that we met every Ex-Pat in the area on that Friday night, even the ones without kids. And the best part, Halloween is tonight. I have no idea what to expect, but we will be prepared with some melted chocolates for our little prettys, just in case. Can’t wait to see what Thanksgiving will be like. I plan to get a nap before that one.
Just Bag It
Having never been much of a world traveler, the things I experience, the things new to me, are odd. Odd to me because they are different from my expectations. Not odd in a bad way, but odd in a way that makes me go hmmmm? Let’s take food for example. Sure the national food here is arroz con pollo or arroz con frijoles, chicken and rice or beans and rice. Like in Alaska where everyone has their own sourdough or beer batter or smoked / canned salmon recipe, here everyone has their own beans and rice or chicken and rice recipe. That’s not really too odd. I’ve watched enough food network to know that when you travel you should attempt to experience the “local” cuisine. However, what I find a little odd is how you buy your food.
Perhaps a little bit of a brand translation fail? Yummy bread though.
For instance, bagged ketchup? Yep, you can buy ketchup in a bag. Not just ketchup, but mayo mustard, beans, pretty much anything that comes in a liquid or semi-liquid form is sold in a branded six-inch sturdy foil bag, like a giant Capri Sun bag. They are in every store and nearly every aisle; Even cleaning solutions, clorox, windex, soap…. bags. Now I haven’t exhausted every resource, but I have asked a lot of people and no one has been able to tell me why. I have heard they are easier to stack, last longer, more econ friendly etc. All theories, all plausible, but odd none-the-less.
Ben showing us the Mayo and mustard bag section.
rows and rows of bagged / pouched stuff.
Pouched honey
Not sure if this is oil, lard or grease, but I know it is bagged, and Jeremy wants some.
Vanna showing us bags of cleaning "stuff". Liquid, powder, solid doesn't matter, it is bagged.
Hot dogs, and American staple and a Godfrey staple. they are good for breakfast lunch or dinner. I know what you are thinking, they do not come in bags. Well, not exactly anyway. They come in wrappers. When you grab a pack of dogs at the store, they look just like any pack you would buy back home. However, they are made from many different things here, most commonly chicken. So you need to learn a few words to grab the right kind. But when you cut the pack open, you quickly see that each and every dog is individually wrapped with a thin layer of??? It is like a Saran wrap, a very thin tinted Saran wrap. I have yet to get an answer as to why or if you are to unwrap before cooking, cook with wrapping on, eat wrapping or discard wrapping. Again, odd.
look closely and you can see lurking beneath the package the slightly pink wrappers engulfing each individual hot dog.
Is it just me or does this just not feel like spanish?
Eggs, another Godfrey staple. We could have 50 chickens laying eggs in our back yards and that probably wouldn’t be enough for our family. We buy a lot of eggs. In the markets here the eggs come in containers of 4, 6, 12 , 36. They are brown, their shells are thicker and the eggs are not all the same size or color. They are not individually stamped, they look more like someone just picked them up form one of the millions of chickens you see running around all over the place. Also, they are never not once refrigerated in the store. Not in the upscale stores with air conditioning, or the local 95 degree stores. Eggs do not go in the refrigerator. They are usually at the end of an aisle stacked 6 feet high. We try to get the bottom of the stack of course, they are slightly fresher. Another oddity, or eggstentialism if you will.
The nicest egg section this side of San Jose. Usually they sit on the floor or on a metal rack.
You can see the bread lady at the bread counter. If you get a bread or pastry and try to walk by without her bagging & tagging your bread, well then you are taking your own life in your hands.
They are serious about their bread here, rightfully so. It is good bread.
Further, there are an abundance of employees in every store. For instance in our local Auto Mercado there is a stock boy for every aisle, and they are always adjusting, dusting rearranging or doing something in the aisles. There seems to always be at least one of them in the aisle if not three or four. There are usually 3-4 security guards patrolling the store, and apparently they have been trained to keep an eye on goateed bald guys. But I find a smile and a “buenas” puts them at ease. Most every store has a meat counter where you get your meat, and three employees behind it. Oh, and you order in kilograms. That’s always fun, especially the first time you ask for 4 kilos of molida (ground beef) and the guys eyes almost bug out of his head. Often times in the vegetable or fruit section there is a guy there just to weigh your fruit and mark it for you. If you try to leave there without getting it weighed and marked, he will chase you down. There is another one in the bakery section to bag, box and mark your doughnut. Around every corner there is someone doing something, or doing nothing as the case me be. In almost every instance there are more employees than patrons in the store at any given moment. The day I took these pictures, in the nicest mercado this side of San Jose, I counted at least 25 employees and about a dozen shoppers.
It seems that Tony the Tiger is quite a bit meaner in Latin America. Perhaps it is the heat.
So not only are we learning to adjust to the new money, the new language, the new food, we also have to relearn the metric system, how to shop for food and how to purchase it properly. It is a daily adventure, and sometimes struggle. But I have learned a couple of things over the last 4 months; Squeezing your condiments onto an unwrapped hot dog, near nirvana. And you haven’t lived until you have made your kid’s PB&J by squeezing your grape Smuckers from a pouch.
Here comes that rainy day feeling again
October is apparently the rainiest month of the year in Costa Rica, and this one has not disappointed, at least not in our eyes. If one has their eyes open the signs are readily apparent, huge drainage holes in the concrete walls surrounding yards, deep concrete ditches on the sides of the roads, and houses adorned with gargantuan gutters and spouts all for this season.
Talking to those who have resided here for a time, this has been a light rainy season. Thunderstorms in the morning, clear skies in the afternoon, clear skies in the morning thunderstorms in the afternoon. But something changed this last month. The thunderstorms have given way to rainy days, cloudy days and periods of downpours. You know it can get bad when your church has a contingency plan to meet in a nearby school if the rain causes the river to rise to an uncrossable level. Which it did last Sunday.
the river runneth through the road to church
Even though I was born on Kodiak Island ie. one of the rain-forests of Alaska, and we lived there for years, it is taking us time to get used to the pure intensity and size of the local rainfall. Often times it pounds down so hard on the roof of the house, you would think it collapse under the sheer weight and force. It is a thunderous sound against the ceramic tiles, that could be almost melodic, but it echos more the constant rolling thunder. Even a quick sprint to the car, 30 feet away will leave you drenched to the point of dripping. But then, when the rain stops in the afternoon and the sun peaks through, then the evaporation and humidity, wet sticky humidity take over the day, and it leaves you begging for the rain again. At least you know you are going to get wet in the rain, the humidity is like a sneak attack; melting you from the inside out.
managed to capture a shot of lightning in the pitch black of night with my iphone.
This being our first rainy season, much like people taking pictures of moose their first year in Alaska, we are shutterbugs, shooting video and pictures of the massive amount of agua that this country can endure. However, it has not come without a price, as there have been 18 road closures, massive mud slides, flooding and the likes.
This is what it looks like from our patio in between the hundreds of lightning strikes....
...same shot seconds later, still pitch black out. It is like a disco strobe at night.
So the following video is for your enjoyment, through the sacrifice of our dryness. Much like the pictures from my days patrolling the Pacific ocean, and waves on the beach, the pictures and video do not accurately display the veracity and intensity of the experience. But it represents a typical September evening and so far a typical late October day. The good news; if it continues we will be surfing down driveway! Hang Ten.
A wet lens and water logged ears
During our trip to Orlando, one of the main things on our shopping list, besides eating at Steak and Shake, was a waterproof camera. Did we need a waterproof camera?That’s like asking if we need an iphone. And I am not taking my iphone out in the agua, that’s for sure. Although the new iphone 4S will be released soon, hmmmm.
So naturally, as with any new toy, we took it out to give it a test run. It’s nothing fancy, but it can get wet and still take pictures, so it met our criteria. Plus, it is a lot of fun to bring electronics into the ocean with you, it kind of feels naughty. In fact it took me about an hour to figure out that I didn’t have to hold it above my head and sacrifice my body and as the waves crashed around me to keep it from getting all wet. So today’s blog is just a bunch of pictures taken with our Fujifilm XP waterproof, freeze proof (important for here) portable camera. We are still learning the settings, and I am too lazy to edit the pics, so some are dark, some are light, some are blurry, some just right.
These pictures were taken during some outings over the last couple of weeks at Tamarindo, Playa Flamingo and Avellenas.
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Jags, skunks, locusts, balls and WINNING.
I recently described the area we live in as being similar to Seward Alaska, accessible by road to the big city, but somewhat remote. A very small community with lots of tourism, more restaurants than it needs, minus the big chain restaurants, and littered with tourist shops and activities. A town that partially shuts down in the off-season, and has that small town feel, where you feel like you know or at least know of almost everyone in town. That is Flamingo; except most people here are always in bathing suits or shorts, and the beaches here beg you to be bare foot, not in Extra Tuff rubber boots, even in the rain.
In all actuality, we are probably smaller, people wise than Seward, and definitely smaller family wise. You see there is a large contingent of retired or semi-retired people here, people sans kids. Therefore the schools are pretty small. The public schools, open air Bodegas, are all in spanish, not an option for english speaking kids. So the only other choice is a private school of which there are three in the area. Our kids go to Gold Coast, the school with the most seniors of any private school in the area, 8. This does not often make for a robust sports program, and often the first clue is when every able body boy in the school is on the basketball team. Dorian and Jeremy are among those. Oh, and several of those boys have never touched a basketball in their life.
The Gold Coast Jags had their first game a few nights ago in Liberia, against a school with about 800 kids. Although the game was extremely entertaining, it was not very competitive.
The Jags practice facility. It reminds me of Madison Square Garden, at least the garden part.
One of the nicest Gyms in the area, and yes those are not windows at the end, it is open air.
First of all there are some American assumptions that must be cleared up. Practice: In America, high school sports practice for pretty much any sport is 4-5 days a week, 2 hours a day, at least! Here practice is 1 day a week for 2 hours in a dark open air multi-purpose room with no fans, no air conditioning and lots of hot, heavy dead air. Shoot, I coached kids from 5 years old and up and we had practice at least 2-3 times a week.
Dorian warming up. Ironic, since it was like 90 degrees out.
Facilities: In America every school has a gym. In Costa Rica a school is lucky to have desks. However every private school I have seen has a pool, but not a gym. And the pool is more for cooling off during lunch than for competitive swimming. That’s why our kids practice at a facility several miles away in the middle of Huacas, that is dark,dirty and hot.
More warm ups.
smiling as he gets hacked for an "and one"
Mindset: In America we drove our kids to excel, we drove them to succeed in sports, at all costs, and we drove them to a lot of practices, games and meetings. It was a lot of driving. Here athletes, except for soccer, seem to have more of a surfer’s attitude. They want to win or catch the big wave, but if not, well Pura Vida, there will be another one soon. Don’t get me wrong, the kids want to win, the coaches want to win, but it’s not like their life depends on it. They compete and play hard, they get mad when they mess up, they get frustrated when others mess up and they work their butts off during the game. But when it’s done it’s done, time to get some Burger King or McDonald’s, a rare treat in these parts, and get ready for the next wave, after a brutal 2 hours of practice in the coming week.
Jeremy running the show
Jeremy getting ready to score his first point as a Jag!
up and in!
the gym, and I don't know what the heck that thing is on the wall.
Playing under the bright lights, dodging bats locusts and bugs.
Like all things here, it will take some getting used to. But I must say these are a lot of the changes that we wanted to experience. We don’t miss driving 200 miles a day ( literally) to practices, dance classes, games etc. We don’t miss having stressed out kids and angry parents screaming in the stands. And we don’t miss winning. Okay, that last one is a lie. We sure would like to win a few games this year, but first we better work on scoring some points. But on the bright side, the games are fun to watch, if not for the basketball action, then for the giant locusts flying around in the gym, or the bats feeding on the bugs by the lights, or even the skunks that wander nearby. Winning quickly becomes a secondary concern when a skunk is involved. Perhaps the Jags can figure out a way to use it to their advantage on defense.
Life in the fast lane
With a tourist Visa, we are only allowed to be in Costa Rica for 3 months at a time before we have to make a trip outside of the country. So last week we took a 5 day trip to Orlando. We did not visit Disney, Universal or Seaworld, instead we shopped, ate and shopped. We ate at every restaurant that we don’t have here, which is everything except McDonald’s and Burger King, and we shopped at every store we don’t have here which is….. every store. Our days consisted of getting up, eating, getting good coffee, shopping, eating, shopping, eating, stopping at Wal-Mart or Target ( I consider this more gathering than shopping), sleeping,repeat. We did this for 5 days, with one afternoon to go watch Captain America in a real movie theater with really bad movie popcorn. Sure miss that little luxury, but don’t miss the cost.
Living here you quickly learn to appreciate the simple lifestyle, with the difficult process, but you miss the luxuries that we as Americans have grown up with. Fast food, fast shopping and entertainment around every corner. We don’t have those luxuries here. Fast food is 45 minutes away, and fast food at a local soda is usually a real meal with rice and beans. Entertainment is scarce. There are no local movie theaters, and the ones in Liberia are often in Spanish. There is a hopping bar scene, but that is more depressing than entertainment, at least in my eyes. Our entertainment usually involves group get togethers and more often than not, a beach. So in that aspect life is simple, and it is fantastic.
However, it does not mean we do not miss this stuff. When it is put right in front of you, it is hard to resist. Convenience is everywhere and always.
One thing that we are missing, that we don’t miss; Sirens. I heard 5 times more sirens in the 5 days we spent in Kissimmee than I have heard in 3 months in CR. In fact I can only think of two times that I have heard sirens since I have been here. Over spending; sure things here are often quite more expensive than back in the states, but there are far fewer things to spend $$ on. Once you get set and established, you can live quite effectively on a minimal budget. The initial setup is spendy, and the luxuries will cost you, but you don’t really have the plethora of places to spend your money that you do back in the good ole USA.Traffic; Sure driving here can be tricky and even treacherous, but there is no traffic. Almost all traffic slow downs are caused by a herd of cows being herded by three vaqueros on horses. You pretty much just pick your way through them, go around the tourists taking pictures, and keep going on your way. Besides, if you are late, no big deal. It’s Costa Rica, Pura Vida, plain and simple. Schedules are loose, times are more zones than minutes, Monday can mean any Monday, and closing / opening times are often displayed with an “ish” after the time.
It takes quite a while to get used to, as we have not, but it is much easier to appreciate after a trip back to the Mother Land. Well I best be going, the kids got out of school an hour ago, and I was supposed to pick them up and I still have to get me an iced coffee along the way. I gotta have something to do in case I get stuck behind some cows.
Pretty much the definition of Pura Vida.
A September Christmas to Remember
You know how kids are when Christmas draws near? They are always smiling, antsy with anticipation, giddy with glee, and doing the dinosaur clap with their hands anxiously waiting for that new Xbox,doll or smart phone. It doesn’t matter the present, its theirs and its unknown and its exciting. They exude joy and it overflows into all those around. They are beaming, happy and impatiently patient. It is almost shame they have to open the presents, for if we could just leave them sitting there for all time then perhaps they would always be this fun and pleasant. The anticipation is better than the event.
Now picture in your mind the same actions, only by an adult. The smiling , the running around, the jumping up and down perhaps a cheerleader kick thrown in for good measure and don’t forget the t-rex small arms clap and a smile so big it can’t help but make you warm inside, which on a 95 degree day is not always a good thing. Well that was Tracy this afternoon. Why was she so excited? Because today her stuff arrived. That stuff she packed away and shipped back in May, it arrived today. And when the phone call came she got her celebration on.
Francisco beginning the unpacking on a 95 degree day
Now none of the stuff that came was new, it was all old, packed and shipped from our Alaskan home. So why so excited? Because, it is parts of home, parts of who we are and parts of who we were. It is the small suff that makes use feel at home, that eases those slight tensions of something new. They are parts that ground us and make the adjustment much easier. They come with memories and emotions and they have been missing in action for almost 5 months. No longer. And within hours pictures were hung stencils applied, kitchens stocked and bikes road.
never been so happy to see some old totes n coolers
doing my due diligence to make sure everything, especially the Mac, came intact.
Me, well I don’t get excited over stuff. I am far and above that. FYI, my Mac and coffee maker are not “stuff” they are essential items of survival. Therefore when I pulled my groin doing a double split jump in celebration, it was to celebrate my spouse’s happiness and not “stuff”. None-the-less we are grateful for another victory!
ever see someone so happy to see some mixing bowls?
Small Victories
As we near our 3 month anniversary as ex-pats here in Costa Rica, the overwhelming theme has become small victories. For new comers to this country, victories are as rare as an iceberg off the coast of Flamingo Beach. What are victories? Well to me victories are things that you can check of your list. The list you made before moving, the all important things that must be done so that you can succeed in your move. For instance, my list contains items such as getting our stuff here, opening a local bank account, buying a car, getting our residency started etc. Definitely not a daunting list by any means. In fact, I bet you if I had just transferred somewhere in the states, I could have finished the list in a morning. However, from the aforementioned list we have accomplished one thing and one thing only.
The obvious pick is that we got our stuff here. Of course, Tracy prepared, packed and planned all of this in May. Our stuff was shipped in May. It was due to arrive here in June. We had thought ahead, we had prepared and we were ready to reap. Instead, nearly 5 months later our stuff is ” on its way”. Supposedly it is here in the country while customs goes through the loads of school books, bikes, clothing, cooking utensils, computers and other necessary items. How long does customs take? It depends on how you ask and what you have. We are praying we see it before our six month anniversary.
So the next logical choice is the bank account right? Just bring some money in, fill out a couple forms,show an ID and passport and voila you have an account. Negative. I mean before I left the states I opened a new account with an online bank all over my computer in less than 10 minutes. But, I should have known better the first time I went into the bank and the teller said ” it is impossible for you to open an account with what you have.” He handed me a list of seven items, including a bill saying that I live here, a corporation, a letter from my accountant, some blood and a child. Eight trips to the bank, a dozen trips to my attorney, and still no account. I am told I am getting close though.
Residency, well that takes a year on average, so we haven’t attempted to scratch that itch yet. So our newest victory is our car. We finally got it. Again, eight trips to the dealer, four trips to my attorney’s office, dozens of phone calls, and five rental cars later we have a car. A car that was paid for two months ago, ordered a month before that, promised to be delivered to me the first week of August, then the next Monday, then the next Monday over and over again. It was a great way to learn that Lunes is Spanish for Monday. Finally I was absolutely positively no doubt about it going to have the keys in my hands this past Monday, over six weeks later. Needless to say, I got the keys on Wednesday, and very happy to have them.
If anything it certainly makes you appreciate things much more. It is hard to learn to get rid of the constant angst that wells up in your gut as you feel helpless to get things done. You don’t know the procedures, you don’t know which piece of advice is the best and you don’t know where to go. You may not know the language, you may not even know what you really want, but you have to get something done, you have to get something off that list. Perhaps I am learning to live in God’s timing and not in Glenn’s timing.
So now without further adieu I take out my giant ballpoint pen cross “get a car” off that list, and it feels great! Something is done, something critically important. Now if I could just figure out how to get insurance. Oh well, at least I have a way to get between my insurance agent’s and attorney’s office the minimal eight times it will take to figure it out.
The new ride styling in the new driveway.
Jake and Kassie taking a second from the pool to pose. The new van holds 12 persons, and not much else.
Thank you Lord for this victory, and we look forward to many more in your time.
Shell Shocked
Since we live in an area known for its beautiful beaches, we tend to spend a lot of time on them. As you have seen in previous posts, each beach has its own personality, some for surfing, some for swimming, some for tanning and almost all for shell hunting. One of our favorite activities since we have been married beach combing on a beach, any beach. Funny thing, the kids have really gotten into this pastime as well. They view it as a treasure hunt. And if you are not surfing or swimming, it is a great way to get some sun and have some fun. In fact, we have cases of shells and beach glass that I have paid to move to at least three different houses. What do we do with them? Good question.
Jake and Kassie doing what they love to do, look for treasure. I prefer non-living.
Jeremy looking for his piece of the pie
A gaggle of gatherers!
A typical find, nothing outstanding.
Barefoot in the warm moist sand, waves crashing against the beach, a slight breeze and the smell of the ocean as you leave a trail of slowly drying foot impressions behind you; You never know what you might see. By accident, last time we were here we found a very small beach, a lonely beach, with giant shells. We have been back several times since. However, surprisingly our most recent best finds came this past week at a beach we have been to a multitude of times, a popular beach known for surfing, Grande.
one short beach sweep
it's like berry picking in the tropics! Except we can't eat em.
a good start
As me and the boys attempted to surf ( and I truly mean attempt) Tra and the girls decided to go for a walk. The tide was very low, hence the lousy surfing, giving a huge runway of beach to comb. As they walked they heard a clinking and decided to investigate. What they found was a small gully in the beach, right where two crests of waves were meeting to etch out the gully. In the gully, hundreds of hermit crabs leaving their current shell for an upgrade. They would crawl out of their shell, and then test out a new bigger shell, if it fit well they would stay, too big too small they would return to their old shell and try again. Amongst them, a treasure trove of shells, shells like we have never seen. All unbroken, all unique and all beautiful.
a non-typical as we would say back home.
Boone N Crockett
Kassie's classic
Looks like it'll cost me a bundle to move this new batch!
and more.......
...and even more. They never end!
The ladies, they loaded up, but the day’s winner for sure was Kassie. As she walked along the shoreline, she was shin deep into the Pacific as kids tend to do, when she kicked up a nice little shell. She bent over and pulled out a gem, probably the best one we have seen since we have been here. An unbroken hand sized shell, a rarity for sure. So when you come to visit, and you see the silhouettes in the sun of people walking slowly on the beach, bent over at the waist and appearing to be looking for a lost wedding ring in the sand ( not saying it did or did not happen) be advised that they are simply shell hunting. And if you join them and happen to see a crab wearing a 14 carat gold belt, go ahead and grab him for me. I’m sure we’ve got a new condo for him here that will fit perfectly in return for the belt.
You wanna look for shells on OUR BEACH!???!!!
Our favorite Costa Rican Fish, The Dark Jackson.
There have been a lot of surprises since we have relocated. Most of them we expected, a few are shocking, and some are more difficult than anticipated. One of the most surprising has been the kids acclamation to water. Being raised in Alaska, the opportunities to swim outside the occasional visit to the local pool, are daunted by the freezing water, and most often end up being an ankle-deep wade at best. Living with a pool in your front yard, a beach 5 minutes away, and perennial 90 degree Fahrenheit air and water tends to change that a little. None more apparent than our favorite fish the Dark Jackson, whom you may know as Jake. Since leaving Alaska Jake has lived in the water. Jake would sleep in the water if he could.
Getting ready for a pairs dive
Pairs diving
Jake doing a dive he invented
showing off
more of the same
Can you see the thumbs up? Maybe he is more of ham than a fish.
He always finds the camera
In the morning, after breakfast, and sometimes before, he is in the pool. Throughout the day into the dark, he is often in the pool. After coming home from all day at the beach, he is in the pool. The kid loves the water, and has become very proficient in it. He can hold his breath longer than me, he can do better dives than any of us, he can swim like a manta ray and no one ever taught him how to swim. He never had a lesson, he was never old enough for us to really teach, he just did it.
the elusive the Dark Jackson
The ham thing must run in the family
About to be crushed by a big wave, no worries.
Perhaps it is allegoric to our life. Just maybe we need to lead them to the opportunities, or provide the tools for our children, ie. the pool, and let them swim. We can be right there to help them, in the water or on the edge jumping to their rescue when needed, but perhaps if we give them a little leeway and let them go just a little they will swim and they will excel in the way that God intended, beyond anything we could imagine. But then we would have to live with the realization that perhaps what God wants with our lives and our children’s lives is much bigger than anything we could imagine. That makes it much more difficult to let them out of the wading pool, unfortunately with us stuck right by their side. Or maybe Jake is just a natural-born swimmer.
Short video showing some of the kiddos sacrificing boogie boards and getting crushed at Playa Flamingo. I was laughing at them, not with them.
In his element
This little piggy went to the market
One of the great pluses of living in a locale that you don’t need a greenhouse to grow fruit or vegetables is the availability and cost of fruits or vegetables. Tracy could hardly stand herself knowing that she could shop at fresh markets. Unfortunately there is not one close by here, so we took the 40 minute drive to Santa Cruz to drop in on their market. We were not disappointed.
Santa Cruz town center
more of the Santa Cruz center park
some of the Caribbean feel
Unlike the markets I have seen back in the states, it is not about the blocks and blocks of stuff, but more about the prices and quality of stuff. The markets here are about the bargain shopping and the super fresh products. In Santa Cruz the market is only about a block big, but that block is full of bargains. It fits perfectly in this old feeling town with its Caribbean colored walls, block streets and beautiful park and church. We went on a Saturday, a bustling day for the city of Santa Cruz, and most of the action was in the market.
just one of the mounds of fruit, good fresh juicy fruit
hey there's some more fruit
Hmmm, not sure they're meeting the fire escape code
waiting for buyers and barking out calls
Tracy in action, doing what she does best, shopping!
It was a hot and lightly windy day, the blanket and tarps covering the vendors were rustling in the wind. As you walk through the narrow lanes between the plastic crates covered in produce, you can smell the freshness, the smell of green fresh green vegetables and fruits wafting throughout the area, interrupted by the occasional odor of fresh fish and sometimes flowers. As you walk by the tables there would be shouts of ” mamon chino cinquenta mil” or “tomatoes cinco cien”, begging you to buy from them and not from the guy next to them selling the exact same thing for a very similar price. The key, we hear, is to get to know a single provider very well, and he will treat you well. So we came prepared to shop.
this was the "flower" guy
the happy shopper holding up some spuds
Kassie with her assigned bag of goodies
Ben looking thrilled as usual
This guy was selling little chicks. Didn't ask him if they were for pets or for food, either way the kids wanted one.
By the end of the morning we had seen dozens of variety of very fresh fruits and vegetables, fresh swordfish, homemade cheeses, fresh woohoo and shrimp, pirated copies of Captain America and every other movie in the theater in espanol, lots of babies clothes, flip-flops, shoes and even a few flowers. Upon leaving we took with us 3 kilograms of swordfish and about 45 pounds of assorted fruits and veggies, all for a grand total of about $60, forty of which was for the fish. Back home we figure this would’ve cost us probably at least 3 times that. However, although we got some great deals, the best part wasn’t the bargains, but the experience. And I guarantee we will be there again soon, and very soon we will have our own personal grocer, much like our mamon chino pusher just down the road.
our haul for the day ( you can't see the two pineapples)
