The early birds
It has become readily apparent to us that the Costa Rican day is vastly different that the good ole American day. You see there is very little difference in the day throughout the year here, the sun pretty much starts peeking out about 5:30, and quickly slips back into the sea at about 6:00 every night, give or take 1/2 hour. It is a constant that you can count on, just like the lovely morning chirping of the birds and the screaming howler monkeys warning of the break of dawn.
Sunrise
So the Costa Ricans have adapted well, especially the outdoor workers, such as construction crews. Right now we have two new buildings going up in our area, and on both buildings the concrete starts pouring, the hammers start hammering, and the drills start drilling at 6 am sharp. The sun is in full bloom and it is time to start the day. Now these aren’t the over achievers, these aren’t the Wall Street moguls, these are the everyday workers, from the machete wielding brush clearer, to the electric company crew.
A new cafe being built near us.
new house in our neighborhood.
The buses start rolling at about 5:30, sucking up workers on the side of the road like Pacman, and depositing them at their area of work for a long hot day. Personally, I think they prefer to get most of their work done before the midday, because from noon to three, it is a little toasty outside. In fact it is not uncommon to see a whole fleet of road workers, or cable techs, or any outdoor crew taking a nap alongside the road during their lunch hour; and they come prepared with mats, and hats to cover their eyes for their afternoon siesta. They worry not about the snakes, mosquitos, ants or scorpions, or any other critter, for they know that the critters are far too smart to be out that time of day. Perhaps this is the secret of dealing with the midday heat. I will be unable to tell until I give it at least a one year test, so check back in a year and I will let you know.
sunset
sunset
Nicaragua Missions Day 3
Our goal was to build 4 houses in 5 days and have three days of vacation bible school. It took us two days to build 4 houses, and we had just enough gumption and money to attempt another house for another family from a different church, not expecting a house. So while a crew dispersed to bend nails at the four houses we already finished and to give each of them a care package, we dropped a crew of five of us off to work on a new casa for our new friend. After two days and four houses,we had the process down pretty good, and thanks to our leader, Oscar, we were able to not only finish the house, we finished before noon. This included modifications to our normal design and plan. It was a true team effort, an efficient team.
looking in on the newest project
Remodel, restructure and build. No down time, lots of busy hands and busy feet.
A little girl from the home build doing her school.
And her brother
Me trying to look cool sporting a Blue's Clue's dew rag. I think I pulled it off.
Dwayne jumping in with both feet, literally, to get this concrete done!
The grateful proud family.
scenes from the long ride home
Infinite Pleasure; guaranteed.
While Guanacaste is not known for its massive shopping options, Liberia does have some stores that are fun to frequent. First of all, one needs to understand that the towns in Guanacaste appear to have lacked the vision of a city planner. Instead, they are built around a town center. Everything emanates from the town center. Liberia, the biggest city in Guanacaste is no exception. There is a beautiful town center right next to the big Catholic cathedral. Then all around that are little shops, shoe stores, electronics, clothes, food, shoes, and more shoes. They like their shoes here. Everything is made to be within walking distance from the town center. For those who drive, it is exceptionally scary as cars park anywhere they want, taxis and locals ignore traffic lights, and skateboarders seem to have as much right as any car on the road. To further complicate matters, there are dozens of unmarked one way streets. The only way to tell, peer down the road and see if there are cars parked facing the way you want to go.
Liberia Catholic Church
Needless to say, it is better to park and walk when you need to do some serious shopping. Now I am like most men and I don’t enjoy shopping. I don’t mind buying, I just don’t like shopping. I can hike for 20 miles, through marsh, alders and mountains looking for a deer with tiny little antlers, but 10 minutes in a mall and my back feels as if it requires immediate surgery. However, I have found a new joy in Liberia. I have found these discount stores that sell stuff from all over the worlds, knock offs of actual products, and the best part, they are translated from Spanish, to English by Chinese. This makes for a great time as I search diligently for new and improved translations. It is almost like hunting, and the best part, I don’t have to spend any money. It is my own personal treasure hunt. I have a few here I would like to share with you.
Costa Rican ingenuity
I have always wanted to find the best welcome gift for children
Hmmmm, this looks familiar.
Look on the bottom right corner, this is a deluxe racing sport.
Infinite pleasure, that's a pretty high standard. I still play with mine!
This one simulates a true style radio control car. So it isn't a radio controlled car, it is a car that simulates a radio controlled car that simulates a real car?
- This is a mouthful, but the best part is that the antennae is already broken, so that's one less thing for the kids to break.
Time for fiesta.
A combination of a block party, state fair, rodeo and outdoor Latin Deejayed dance, that about describes the local fiestas.
Each and every town has fiesta at least once a year. It is the local culture. When the bull ring starts being erected from scratch with lumber that looks as if it was found on the side of the road, you know it is coming. It takes about a week to erect it, but it is always finished on time. Once the ring is up, the party starts, and they know how to party.
Jeremy, Braden and Dorian waiting for their turn in the bouncy castle.
The ride section
That blur is Olivia, Ben and Faith.
Go ahead and stand up during the ride little girl. It adds to the excitement.
The music is ear bleeding loud. The food is heart clogging good. The vendors are in your face with their trinkets. The rides, well the rides are the rejects, the ones deemed unsafe in the states, and they are fired up and rolling. But the highlight is the bull ring. Every night there is an event in the bull ring, and every night it is a spectacle.
In Costa Rica we call this driver's ed.
These boys did not know what they were getting into when they agreed to ride with Olivia.
I can see regret on their face. Note Olivia is the only one doing the spinning.
The sounds, the smells, the scenery, they all scream party. They beg you to dance, call for you to eat and to eat badly, and summon you to cheer on the bulls. There is the obligatory beer tent, or two, or three, just in case any false courage is needed. And there always at least three different DJ’s blasting out latin, hip swinging, head bobbing dance music, with competing throbbing beats, throughout the night.
Jake and Luke spinning as hard and as fast as they can.
Kassie and Faith following the boys.
As soon as the rides opened, the kids were ready to roll. At the Villa Real festival there were four larger rides, including a mini coaster, bumper cars, a spinning puking twisting thing, and an air spinner. The great thing is there are no lines, because on one waits in line, you just push forward, walk on, get on, and ride if you dare. The rides look like they are about two levels of safety below the typical backyard fair in the states. There are no safety fences, no chains or gates’; in fact to get into the bumper cars you have to literally run through the whirling bumper cars to get to your car and join in the fun. It adds a slight level of intensity. You can also high-five your friends on the air rides as they fly by you at mach 7, or let your little kids go ahead and stand during the kiddy airplane ride, or coaster ride, as we witnessed. So even though the ride itself may not be that intense, the freedom within adds unspeakable levels of intensity.
Don't let their sweet innocent looks fool you, these two were vicious in the bumper ring.
trinkets.
The big ride in action.
The food, it is fried, it is local, it smells good and it tastes good. There is lots of rice, lots of meat on sticks and a local favorite, the double fried chicken. Yep, the fried chicken sits under a heat lamp until you order. Then, to make sure it is hot and fresh for you, they fry it again. So you get a built-in drink with your chicken. We stuck to some churros and donuts with a touch of caramello.
Meat on a stick. Not sure what kind, but it smelled good.
An up and comer.
Homemade ramp to the homemade ring.
Dorian, Ben and Livy on the fence, Braden and Jeremy inside the ring. That's about right.
But the highlight is the rickety wooden ring of which the festival surrounds. Therein lies the loudest music, therein is the loudest announcer, and there is where the crowd gathers. Some unwilling to shell out 2000 colones for a wooden bleacher seat, bring their own chairs and set up station right outside the ring, peering through the wooden planks. Others climb on top of the fence posts, and some set up camp under the bleachers. Us tourists, the non-locals, well we shell out the money so we can sit in comfort and with a view. Exactly what were we viewing?
The bulls came out with a rider, and went back in without one.
This guy was especially mean. You can see he was intentional, thoughtful and brutal. Note the kids peering through the fence.
A bull ring littered with drunk college spring breakers, drunk young locals and a couple of skilled vaqueros on their horses, armed with rope and lasso. There were about 25 young brave men in the ring ready to run from, at, and with the bulls. The bulls were big, the bulls were mean, and the bulls were fast. The worked quickly to get the young rider off their back so they could set their horns on the young sunburned drunks in their flip-flops. And just as I turned to tell my wife how I was rooting for the bull amongst the bravado appearing in the ring, two familiar faces appeared, Jeremy and Braden. So now there were 25 drunks and Jeremy and Braden. They too wanted to feel the horns of the bull up close. Perhaps even more intense, the wrath of mom when she found out they were in the ring.
Braden ready to catapult out, Jeremy with hands in pocket.
This college spring breaker was asking for it all night long.......
And he got a little taste.
But alas, the boys maintaining a full state of soberness stayed close to the fence, leaping up in a single bound at the inclination of an angry bull approaching. They moved swiftly and unlike several Ticos, never had to dive for cover. There were several falls, lots of fence jumping and even some dives as the bulls charged, parried and spun throughout the dirt covered rung. The false bravado was amazing, the close calls followed by high fives, hugs and another beer. As far as live entertainment goes, and for the price, it is pretty hard to beat.
SCATTER!
Prophetic?
The main attraction......
...even for the medics
On a steel horse they ride.
It was a good night, and once it was over it was to comprehend why the fiestas were the most anticipated event of the year. They had a touch of Americana, the cheap trinkets, candied apples, cotton candy and mechanical rides. They had culture with the food and the historical bull ring, as this country was founded and settled by cowboys, or vaqueros. But most of all they have a place to get together, even if just for a weekend. A reason to come out of their small home as a family and gather with friends, enjoy their culture, eat, dance, drink, and just forget about the worries of the day for a couple of nights. Forget about the heat and the hard life, and just enjoy. But most of all they gather praying together that at least one of those drunk college tourist’s back ends meets the front end of a bull. For then they will have a story to share for all time.
A little video shot with my iphone so you can soak up some of the action and sounds.
Songs, Sermons, Sushi; an Epic Gang Youth Group Event
As I have mentioned many times before, you have to be creative when trying to plan activities in this region of the world. It is even far more difficult when trying to plan for youth group events, other than the regular youth group meetings. Most often they involve a beach day of some sort. However, our friend and professional chef Mike Finch had an inspiration for a youth event that came to fruition last week, sushi night. Not just eating sushi, but learning how to make sushi and then eating the sushi.
Prep work
Veggies waiting to be eaten
sushi fillers
Ready to roll, literally.
Our guide for the evening.
Protein! That's what I am talking about.
Elizabeth's beautiful creation. Too pretty to eat, to hot to eat.
The event was a great success. We had 24 youth and several adults show up, packing out our casa. It was everything a youth event should be, gathering to sing some worship songs, a short message from Mike, and then the rice was flying.
Anton and Dorian patiently waiting for action.
Ben and Elizabeth leading us in some songs.
Olivia and Ben, didn't ask, didn't want to know.
Dave introducing Chef Mike to the soon to the sushi recruits.
Listening to Mike bring the word.
While groups of four learned how to roll sushi, the others were often playing epic games led by Braden and Brock. I didn’t get to see what they were playing, but apparently screaming the loudest was the most important aspect of sure victory, and they all wanted to win.
Ready, set, roll.
You must have deep concentration grasshopper.
The rice was flying and the soy sauce was spilling, but it was all good.
Braden was so excited he started eating his sushi a little early.
Of course the best part of the night was the sushi sampling, of which I was fortunate enough to participate in. There was salmon, artificial crab, shrimp, and fresh tuna. For the veggies we had cucumbers, carrots, red peppers, tomatoes and avocados. Of course there was also ginger, wasabi ( extra hot) and soy sauce.
Well balanced
Heavy on the protein!
Almost done
The event was a fantastic success, and despite our concern, the only person to get cut was me! I am sure this will spurn further educational cooking events for the Epic Gang of Youth of Guanacaste; Perhaps fondue! On second thought, hot oil, hot cheese, mini spears…….. I ‘ll let you know.
Ready for me.
Perfection
Bud wants to share. Brock, does not.
I think Dorian missed a step, or he was craving a burrito.
And of course there is always dessert provided by my lovely wife. chocolate, snicker, peanut butter cupcakes. It's a mouthful.
The March of Fires
Fully enveloped in the dry season now for months, the earth all around us is covered in crinkly dry leaves, yellow dry grass and dry tinder branches. This combined with 30-40 mph winds makes this whole region a giant piece of kindling wood. The Guanacaste region has been on fire for weeks, all being fanned and directed by the seasonal winds, ironically the same winds we use to cool our house during the extreme dry heat of the day. It is a nuisance. The air is constantly wafting the odor of campfire about, permeating not just our clothes, but couches, cars, and curtains. The whole house smells like one giant campground, covered in black and white bits of ash. There have been times when we couldn’t see across the road as the thick gray yellow clouds of smoke smothered the road transporting the flames to the other side. During the day it is ugly, smelly and a nuisance, but at night the beauty emerges.
The fresh salt water drowned out by the smoke.
Reminds me a little of a war zone.
At night the burning red-hot spots glow brightly, some close some a distance away marking empty fields. The distant hills have beautiful rivers of fire flowing up and down their faces, remanent of a fresh purge of lava from a young volcano. The smoke is invisible. The fire is beautiful mesmerizing me much like a youngster at a campfire. Burned out stumps, trees spotted with red glows, fields glowing, and wind gusts creating dancing, crackling sparks across the dark night sky a slowly moving glow. It causes a desire in me to greatly improve my photography skills so that I may share what I see.
I did not have a tripod, so I did the best I could to capture the glow spurned on by the wind.
A glowing stump.
Same stump with flash.
One tree dies, the other lives.
Charred remains of the hilltop.
A field near our home along side the road. Many wooden posts died this die.
In the morning it leaves behind a matted black field and hillside, wounded smoldering trees, not dead, but wounded as soldiers slowly walking across a battlefield and a blanket of white and black ash. There are no personnel fighting the fire, no helicopters, police barriers, fire trucks, news cameras, it is just a normal day. Perhaps they don’t have the man power or the budget, or perhaps they don’t care, it is part of nature, part of life, a purge, perhaps it is Pura Vida. Whatever it is, it is now a part of the yearly cycle of our life. Next year, I will have a tripod!
Make a run to the border
Until we have our residency here in Costa Rica we have to depart the country every 90 days. They don’t care where you go, just as long as you go. So this time we made a run for the border with some great friends to spend an afternoon in Nicaragua, or at least at the border of Nicaragua.
You see it can get quite expensive flying a family of nine to the good ole US every 3 months, so the alternative is a 2 hour drive north to Nicaragua.
The trip took us straight through Liberia which in turn requires the obligatory and rare McDonald’s visit. Swallowing the irony of McDonald’s becoming a special treat is akin to swallowing an old filet-o-fish and greasy cold fries. But the complete lack of fast food has made fast food a treat. So all trips to and through LIberia require a McDonald’s or BK stop.
After the throng of us, 17 in total, scarfed down our Big Macs, Nuggets, fries and fried chicken ( yes all fast food restaurants have fried chicken) it was time to head north to the border, and no I don’t mean Taco Bell.
The most interesting thing about the drive was how quickly the environment changed. The grass and trees became greener, the flat land become hillier, the air become slightly cooler, and the roads become vastly emptier. This was new territory for us, but not for the Olsen’s which is why they were our guide for this trip, Dave, Keri and their five kiddos. I can tell that Dave has been in Costa Rica much longer than me because I felt like Danica Patrick trying to keep up with Tony Stewart.
Other than the new scenery, and the post McDonald’s growling in our stomachs, the drive to the border was uneventful. The border itself, a different story.
You know you are close to the border when you start seeing 18 wheelers parked alongside of the road for miles, waiting, sometimes for days, for their turn to cross the border. A rookie, like me, would’ve parked in line like a proper American and waited for my turn. Instead we deftly pulled into the left lane and drafted off Dave to pull right up to the border.
The border itself is unimpressive. There are people milling all around, a few uniformed individuals, no signs, no arrows, no lines, just a dilapidated old concrete building with a couple of unhappy locals behind the counter. They looked miserable, their uniforms dirty, their smiles long gone, their dark skin subdued. A small table top fan cooled them and some upbeat Latin music softly playing in the background mindlessly, unnoticed by all. There is no line, you just push your way to the front and get some papers from the man behind the old CRT computer screen. He reluctantly counts out 18 immigration forms for us, one for out one for back in.
As I sat filling out the forms as quickly as I could, I couldn’t help but notice the lack of security, the lack of cleanliness, the lack of anything. Everything there pretty much guaranteed that this was supposed to be a dark and miserable experience, much worse than DMV. However, the Godfrey’s and Olsen’s together cannot help but make any activity fun.
After quickly scratching out 18 customs forms, I returned to an empty spot in the counter and handed the man 9 passports and 9 forms. Like a robot, he removed the paper, opened the passport, scanned the passport and only asked if Livy was Kassie. Five minutes later we were on our way.
The most interesting part of the whole experience was the walk from the Costa Rica Border to the Nicaragua border. Again, no signs, no trails, no security, but we did pass a couple of uniformed men along the side of the road who glanced at each and every passport and sent us on our way.
The walk made me appreciate having our guides to show us the way. Literally, I would’ve had no clue where to go. We walked on a dirt road, through a dirt parking lot, through a wire fenced tunnel from which we exited through what appeared to be a hole cut in the fence by a burglar, over a beaten path in a makeshift grass area into Nicaragua.
We then headed directly to one of about a dozen different dilapidated buildings in the area. Again, I saw no reason why we could not have just kept on walking further into Nicaragua, but our purpose today was to get the stamps in our passport.
The building here was slightly nicer, the men behind the counter, slightly grouchier. In fact they refused to give me 18 customs forms, which a very nice Nica lady offered to sell me for a propina ( tip). Eventually, we were able to get our forms, fill them out, and answer a couple of random questions before getting our passports stamped.
In hindsight, I think having 14 rambunctious kids yelling, screaming and playing in their echoing building helped to push the process forward. Shoot, I was ready to leave!
After the last stamp, paying $12 per passport, and $1 more per passport for a tiny cute 1X1 piece of paper that no one every looked at, we were officially in Nicaragua, the clock started; Let the good times roll!
This trip was for one purpose and one purpose only, to get our passports stamped so we could stay in CR for another three months. So instead of fighting through the throng of cab drivers, we literally sat at the border, ate snacks, shopped in the duty free stores, played games and listened to music for over two hours. Technically we are supposed to be in Nicaragua for three hours, but two hours at a dirty dusty border was about all that we could handle. The kids had a great time, rip sticking all around the old abandoned border buildings, playing soccer, exploring and just being kids. But as darkness engulfed us, we felt it was time to see if we could get back to our country. The women prayed and the men pushed forward.
Again, in hindsight having the kids screaming, running, singing and playing probably helped a lot. By the time we finished filling out nine customs forms and came up to the counter, the whole country was ready to send us packing! There were no questions, in fact he did not look at our forms at all. Stamp, flip stamp, flip and ask if Olivia was Kassie, pay $2 a passport, and again an extra $1 for that cute tiny piece of paper; Passports in hand we began our walk back to CR. The ten minute walk in the dark, weaving between 18 wheelers, cars and broken concrete involved several wrong turns, one fall and several head counts. We only had to show one uniformed man our passports and he hurried us along our way. Eventually we made our way back into the hot and stuffy CR border and deftly stepped up to the counter like we knew what we were doing. The only question asked ” how long are your going to be in CR?” in spanish, which I mistook to mean how long had you been in Nicaragua. Imagine his surprise when I said 3 hours. Eventually we figured it out and stamp, stamp, stamp we were on our way. Back to our cars which we had parked at the border and back to Liberia. A quick 9 pm dinner at BK, lots of in-car group singing, and an hour later we were home.
According to Dave the trip was about as uneventful as any border crossing could be. Which seems incredible to me when you look at our family, me and Tracy and seven kids, six which look like Ticos. Yet no questions, no accusations, nada. In and out in two hours. It was a $144 process, a meaningless ends to a means, another hoop to jump through, one that we now know how to do. Perhaps in the future we will make one change and save the McDonald’s trip for the ride back, because the water bucket man powered pay toilets are not conducive to a post McDonald’s bathroom trip.
You Can Go Home Again; Just bring some extra socks.
It is hard to pass up a chance to go home again. A chance to see what is new and what has changed, who is new and who is still there. To visit with all your old friends and get a chance to say goodbye all over again. So when the chance came for me to make an impromptu trip back to Alaska, I jumped on it, even though I had relinquished all my cold weather gear prior to my departure.
Now if one was to schedule a rare trip to Alaska, generally they would be looking at June, July or August. Also, generally they would avoid January and February, as they tend to be the coldest, darkest, most miserable months of the year. Naturally, my trip was scheduled in February. Not only is it cold and dark, it is also covered in snow and the roads are often like ice rinks speckled with chicken playing moose. Given the fact that I had not driven on ice for well over a year, and that my driving habits had quickly degraded to the level of a local Tico, I was slightly concerned, especially when I found that I would be driving a studless two-wheel drive Camry. I was right to be concerned.
Dorian showing off our morning dusting that continued throughout the day.
The view of the morning snowstorm on my way to get some coffee.
One of several accidents that I saw during my trip.
First and foremost, just prior to my arrival, the state had been mired in a deep freeze averaging temperatures well below zero for a month. For bald men, this is a problem. However, the day we arrived the temperatures started to rise to well above zero. I theorize that as soon as Dorian and I stepped off the plane, Alaska sucked the tan and warmth off of our skin and released it directly into the atmosphere. Instantly 30-40 temperatures.
Ice wall along Turnagain arm, one of the ones the ice climbers climb.
Sunrise, around 10:30 I think.
more sunrise taken while driving (I told you I drive like a Tico)
If you look closely you can see the wind whipping off the top of the mountain. It definitely made it a wee bit chilly.
Yes this is better than -30, however if you have not lived in a state like AK, then you do not realize what comes with warm days and freezing nights, and that is the aforementioned speed skating roads. Literally roads of ice, covered in a thin layer of water to aid in the release of any possible remaining friction. In fact this time it was so bad, schools were closed and roads were closed. Four-wheel drives were ditched in attempts to climb the hills home and every available piece of unfrozen dirt was spread to give back some of that lost friction. A normal Alaskan winter, and a perfect day for a 3 hour drive to Soldotna.
Mid day Turnagain Arm.
Whats up Doc? Not the temperature.
If this guy thinks its cold, then its cold. Yes McDonald's free product placement.
Common sight in Soldotna.
All in all the driving came back to me pretty quickly, especially with the front wheel drive. I did however get the obligatory rock chip on the windshield, something that I have not seen since I left.
There were a lot of things I observed about myself while in Alaska.
1. I drink a lot more coffee, I mean 2 to 3 times as much as I do in Costa Rica.
2. I take a lot hotter showers. Long, very hot, to the point of the pointless shower sweats.
3. My feet are always cold.
4. My skin is always dry and flaking off my body as if it wanted to remain in AK.
Eli, Mackenzie, Chloe and Jojean.
Jojean at church with Asia and ? I don't know this little girl but she quickly friended us, and then informed me that I was not invited to her house.
All that being said, it was well worth it to see family and friends. It was great to visit and share, even though I was sharing the same things over and over again. It was great driving through my favorite coffee stands, going to Fred Meyer’s and most of all it was awesome to spend time with Jo. She has gotten so big and had some many stories to share. She has become quite the dresser as well. I was glad to see her healthy and having a lot of friends. I was also very thankful to find that our friends were helping to take care of her, our whole church in fact. She is covered in love in our absence.
Jo and Dorian Facetiming with mom.
Ipad facetime in action. Well worth every penny for the memories it created.
I didn’t get to see everyone I wanted to see, I didn’t get to eat with everyone I wanted to eat with, I didn’t get to spend as much time with those I wanted to spend time with, but it was still worth it. I got to spend a lot of time with some awesome friends and family, and I especially enjoyed the hospitality of the Brown’s and Davis’s as they opened up their homes to me and Dorian. It was much better than any 5 star hotel I could ever find on Priceline.
Noah welcoming me to his house. He plays ball better than any Labrador Retriever I have ever met.
Chloe insisted I stay the night, as she lugged my luggage all the way upstairs.
My favorite part of the trip, my time with my little princess Jo.
She still melts my heart. Which is good since I was a little chilly in AK.
I got to enjoy the beauty of Alaska again, despite the miserable roads and the bitter cold ( anything below 50 is bitter cold). It felt natural to be amongst the camo and Carhart laden people. To see the bunny boots, parkas hats and gloves, to defrost my windows in the morning and truly appreciate that first piping hot cup of coffee. It was normal to slow down a little as I came upon a trio of moose anticipating the quick road cross, and even the inevitable rock to the windshield was just like old times. And other than my feet freezing the whole time I was there, it was like slipping on an old pair of socks, I just wish that they had been thick wool.
It is good to go home again, if not for the land, for the people. Although next time, I hope I see more of the green land, more of the golden sun, and more of the hearty people.
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
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.
200
Today I noticed that this post would be my 200th post. At first I thought 200 was not that much, but I have realized that it is actually quite a bit, especially considering that I am not writing about current events, news or anything like that, I am writing about life and our family. Our journey to a family of 10 in Alaska to a family of 9 in Costa Rica. The very first post was in September of 2008, which means it took me over 3 years to get 200 published posts. Lately I have resolved myself to adding a new post on an average of at least one a week, and I am proud to say that I am ahead of schedule this year. Perhaps relocating to Costa Rica has helped a little.
Most of the posts have been very light-hearted and fun, some however have been very dark, sad and therapeutic. Whatever the style, they all have their own pace and feel. Some have taken me days to write, others minutes, some are done in minutes but I hesitate to post them, others I have written and have never posted. But as I reflect back on the last 199 posts I have come to realize that this tiny little blog has help me connect more with God, myself, my family and friends. It has help me come to grips with some big happenings in my life, and in the live’s of those I love. It has been fun and it has been tedious at times. Sometimes I struggled to find something worthy of writing about, something anyone would even care about. And I always have to go back to why I am writing and who am I writing for. Originally it was so our family and friends could see into the lives of a big family, a special family, at least in my mind. Now we are way away from anywhere I thought we would be from my first post. It has evolved into a blog about a crazy big family that has moved from one corner of the world to another, on a whim, some would say. So for blog post 200, instead of sharing the most popular posts I thought I would share some of my personal favorite posts. The ones that affected me and others the most. They may not have been the most popular or most light-hearted, but they had something in them that just had that extra special meaning. I know everyone always enjoys new materials and new pictures, but these are all some re-posts of days gone by. As we all know, each and every post will be out there for all eternity, because as they say once you put it on the web, it will never go away. So if you are bored on a rainy/ snowy day, scroll the tags or topics on the right, or put in a keyword to see what you might find. There are over 200 to chose from!
Probably the overall most popular posts are the Christmas Letters. They are always at the top of the blog and you click there to read them. It is the year in review, and those usually take the longest for me to write, so I am glad at least someone is reading them.
The second most popular are the ones with lots of pictures. Now, as the writer of this blog this causes me a little concern. I have a feeling there are a few of you that are just looking for the latest greatest pic, and not reading a word I type. Darn the twitter generation! However, I think those are my wife’s favorite as well, so they can’t be all bad.
Without question, the posts that caused the most reaction are the ones with Jo, when we were going through our transition with her. It was one of the most difficult things we had ever dealt with as a family. I don’t know why I wrote about it like I did, but I really think it helped to put it into words and the response was very big. Not just a comment on the blog, but a full email, a phone call, a visit the reactions were amazing. These posts mostly wrote themselves in minutes and made me thankful I had this little blog to use for therapy.
These are a couple of miscellaneous ones that had pretty big hits. The real Costa Rica I could understand via google. It was from our first trip to Costa Rica and it was an eye opener for us. Awkward Conversations; I don’t know why but that one seemed to strike a note with people. Although I didn’t get a lot of comments on the blog, again I had a lot of personal reactions. The next one I did not anticipate at all. It was a simple blog on me grilling some ribs for my birthday, and I thought I would be cute with the title. Apparently, a lot of people google that song because it still gets a lot of hits to this very day. Who knew?
I have a BBQ stain on my white T-shirt
So there you have it, Post 200 is now in the books, or on the web for all eternity. If you have time you can click-through to some of the above listed posts to see the variety of activity that we have encountered throughout the last 3 years. However, I will warn you that the middle section can be a little heavy, and it still affects me to this very day. I like to think that I have another 200 posts in me, and with our recent relocation I hope that will give me interesting fodder for the next few years. Stay tuned, and thank you so much for reading, and I really thank you for the comments and kind words. Glenn
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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Holiday Roads
Traveling is always a chore with a large family. Shoot, it takes us 25 minutes to figure out how we are getting to church every Sunday, and we go every Sunday! Are we taking the van or two cars? Do you need to be there early? Do we have any extra kids? Who is riding with dad? Are you getting a coffee? No, you can’t all ride with mom! No you can’t all go in later! Where are we going to eat? Where did all these extra kids come from?
Now imagine trying to take a vacation. Just finding 10 seats is daunting, but then try and use your handy-dandy super simple companion fare in combination with you Alaska Airlines miles and find the cheapest fare. This always leads to a conversation with a ticket agent ( yes they still exist, near extinction, but those still alive have managed to maintain the skills their ancestors have passed down to them)explaining my fate and frustration of attempting to bring it all together. The result is always at least two separate flights. Two long separate flights arriving several hours apart, and arriving late, always.
Traveling is definitely a chore for a family our size, but it is almost always worth it. Our last family trip was to Orlando, and the end result was great, even though it did involve two travel teams changing planes twice each way and going through different cities and arriving at different times. I think it must be somewhat like childbirth. You forget the crying, the vomiting ( in the aisle of the plane), the nasty smells ( usually sitting by the bathroom) and the kicking and screaming in desire of breaking free from captivity, and then you have worry about the kids too. But alas, all that goes away as soon as you lay your head on the lounge chair by the pool.
I write this as we get ready to head to Anchorage for Thanksgiving, our yearly tradition. The kids love staying with Nana, going to the shootout, shopping, hitting up old Charles E. Fromage, and maybe even making an appearance at H2Oasis, a great place for a hairy old overweight man like myself to hang out. Alas, I have to keep this short because we are getting ready to leave and I need to open an Excel spreadsheet to figure out who is going to ride with who and who gets to bring what laptop, and who gets to sit in what seat, and where we will stop and potty, and where Tracy will want to stop and take some pictures…… oops we were suppose to leave an hour ago.
Have a great Thanksgiving weekend, and don’t forget to whom you are thankful.
