Squirt Alert

Many friends have asked me about the little dog that we rescued four years ago. She's alive, looking healthy and happy thanks to the caretakers. They've taken excellent care of her and truth be told, she is their dog now. We love it when she comes scampering down the steps to our cabin panting, excitedly . We always have a warm spot in our hearts for Copita, the little cup. Our nickname for her is Squirt and she is just so cute.

Looking at the picture, they do kind of look alike. Don't they?

Landscaping around the steps has filled in a little.

Where Trees Grow Stars

Where to begin? Bill and I are back in Costa Rica after a two and a half-year hiatus. Hawaii, Zihuatanejo, Arizona and Utah were great. But why did we wait so long to come back to Costa Rica? One day back at the casitas and it's like we never left, except that the landscaping has since filled in lushly around us to spite a drier than normal dry season.

Most up time I'm just walking around in a lazy daze of amazement staring at the fascinating creatures popping in and out of sight, mainly birds, bugs and lizards. Wandering around the property, I'm enthralled with the variety, colors and shapes to the foliage and flora.

That brings me to the subject of this post- Stars. Star fruit that is. I was walking in back of the casitas and I got so excited, We have a star fruit tree! It 's blooming and fruiting now.

The blossoms of the star fruit tree are pink.

The star fruit is unique, tropical and delectably edible.

Lot 1 at Solrisa near Dominical Costa Rica

It occurs to me that while I may not be in Costa Rica right now, Costa Rica is in my heart. So why not write about it?

We've been getting a few inquiries about our property for sale in Dominical. Maybe it's a sign that the economy is starting to recover. We can only hope so. Since we do have some beautiful lots with killer views, I thought it might be nice to share with you.

Lot 1 is one of my favorite lots. It's big. It's private. When we do sell it, I'm going to miss these vistas.

The Lobster and the Caretaker

Last Sunday, after returning from a day on the beach, Efrain, our caretaker, came to the casitas. He was carrying a gift of two fresh lobsters.



Oh, my. I can’t believe the windfall. I love lobster. Bill on the other hand feels that succulent subtleties of shellfish are wasted on him. The gift that he turned down, I was more than graciously willing to accept with gluttonous pleasure. There was only one problem. I don’t know how to cook lobster, so I ask Efrain how to cook it.

Yeah right. Ask a macho latin man how to cook. Obviously, he didn’t know how to cook it. Marlene, his wife, is the cook of the family. Rather than explain how to prepare the dish to the domestically incompetent gringa, he took the lobster back up to Marlene, and fifteen minutes later, my appetizer arrives hot at the door.



Who’s the dumb (well-fed) gringa now?

Seriously, we are very grateful for Marlene and Efrain’s hard work and generosity. They help make Solrisa a very special and friendly place. Marlene is a great traditional Costa Rican cook. I plan on working with her to come up with a limited menu that she can offer our guests at Solrisa. I can’t imagine anyone any not being thrilled with dinner brought to the door.

Rancho Dumpster Diving

Bill and I have been very busy. Working our tails off is what we have been doing. Our latest big project was a rancho by the pool.




A moment of relaxation for Carmen and Copita, or as we call her, Squirt, the little abandoned dog that we rescued a few years ago. She is happy and healthy living with our caretakers. See her little tongue. She's giving you a Squirt kiss.




In Costa Rica, we have to be our own garbage men. Here are our buddies at the dump.

Tossing Toads

Scary things lurk in the jungle here. One night we were coming home from dinner, as I descended the steps to get to the cabins, something scurried across my path in the dark. I couldn’t see what it was because it was dark. Then the bushes beside me started to move and sway.

“Damm, it must be something big.” I’m thinking as I hurried into the cabin.

The next morning, Bill walks out to the pool area and finds a big turd on the first step in our pool. (Time for extra chlorine and super shock.) The real puzzle is what did its business in our pool? Being the ignorant Gringos that we are, we asked Efrain, our caretaker. Efrain, said it was a sapo, or a toad.

It’s really hard to believe that a toad could have so much excrement. I’m thinking, “Toads don’t swim. Toad or frog, it had to be the size of a Chihuahua.”

What ever the little pooper amphibians are, they have another not so endearing trait. They are extremely noisy. Forget the ubiquitous, “Rib-it, rib-it” that you read in children’s books. Think of a foghorn. A few frogs around your pool at night can keep you up all night.

Sleepless in Costa Rica pool owners have resorted to the sport of Toad Tossing or Frog Flinging to rid their pools of the noisy pests. You begin the game by heading out after dark with a flashlight in search of frogs in and around your pool. Once you find one, you grab the pool net skimmer and try to capture the offender. It usually jumps into the pool and starts swimming for the bottom. You submerge the net and chase the frog with it. Once netted, pluck the frog out of the water and launch the creature as far as you can on a free flight away from the pool.

A toad tossing enthusiast neighbor told us of the time she turned toad tossing into a biathlon, when she plunged straight into her pool with her pajamas on.

We all know how well Bill swims. Needless to say, I was a little concerned when one night after dinner, Bill says, “I’m going frog hunting. If I’m not back in ten minutes, send help.”

He heads on out to the pool. I follow with the flashlight.

It wasn’t too hard to find a toad. Catching it on the other hand was challenging. Bill deftly followed the frog underwater with the net. Once caught, he brought him to the surface and out of the water. So far, OK. Bill’s technique failed with the fling however. It looked good, but then, “THUCK!”




You can’t see the toads fly in the dark, but it was perfectly obvious that Bill had tossed this one onto the corrugated steel roof instead of the jungle. Yuck!

That was enough for me. I won’t be doing anymore Toad Tossing or Frog Flinging. I happen to like the little guys to spite their big mouths.

Mandarin oranges and guacamole, anyone?

The great thing about having property in Costa Rica is tropical fruit. We have banana and avocado trees and even a few pineapple plants. Citrus rules this time of year. Here is a picture of a very prolific mandarin orange tree. It’s strange to just be able to walk a couple of yards and pick your own fruit.



Lemons are also quite abundant on the property, making it very easy to make our favorite snack of guacamole. Here is a great guac recipe. The lemon juice gives it a snap.

4 peeled and smashed avocados
1/4 cup diced onion
1/3 cup diced tomatoes
juice from one or two lemons, depending on your snap preference
salt to taste

Mix together and grab your favorite dipping chip.

Costa Rica Butterfly Garden

Bill’s been working a lot. Me, I spend most of my time happily walking around in awe and wonder at the simple beauty surrounding me. I find myself contently staring at the shape and colors of a single flower, or gazing at the dramatic coastline.

One of my proud landscaping successes has been the butterfly and hummingbird garden in front of the cabins. My original thought was that cabin guests could sit on their balcony and watch the exotic hummingbirds and butterflies. It worked better than I could imagine. Dozens of fluttering butterflies and a few colorful hummingbirds drift in and out of the garden all day.



The two plants contribute the most to our butterfly habitat in Costa Rica are Latana camara and Stachytarpheta frantzii, or Porterweed, both from the Verbenaceace family. Porterweed is especially effective at attracting butterflies. It is a 2 to 3 meter bush with spiky purple flowers.

I was so pleased with the performance of these two plants that I bought more and expanded Solrisa’s butterfly garden. I planted seven more plants today, just before the thunderous tropical rainstorm that’s pounding on our roof right now started.

There is a dichotomy between power and comfort in a tropical rainstorm. The power is obvious in the amount of water that pours from the sky and the cannons of thunder. The comfort comes from being warm and dry while blanketing sheets of water fall around you. You're surrounded by a misty fog and the rain drowns out most jungle sounds. How idyllic for me, at the moment.

Poor Bill isn’t experiencing any comfort right now. He’s out in the downpour shoveling ditches of slippery, sticky, goopy red dirt to keep our roads from eroding. Good thing the rain is warm here.

Shut the #$*& Up

Our trip from San Jose to San Isidro only had one little glitch. A religious motor-mouth and self-ordained preacher boarded the bus then started TALKING VERY LOUDLY ABOUT HOW GREAT HIS LIFE WAS SINCE FOUND GOD! Granted, Costa Rica is a free speech country and the man had every right to babble on about the Lord's grace in his life, precious little orphans, cute puppies and Jesus saving the world. But come on folks; imagine having to be subjected to a 4-hour, non-stop sermon from a man barking at the top of his lungs while you are a captive on the bus. I’m not exaggerating. I swear the man only took a 30-second breather after an hour of babble. I remember sitting there savoring those few silent seconds while Bill was trying to drown out the pontification with his noise canceling headset.

Can you guess where the orator from hell, not heaven as he may have liked us to think, was sitting? At first I thought he was sitting right in back of us because he was so LOUD, but he was actually two rows back. It means there were only two other people on the bus who were more unlucky than us.

When we stopped at the mid-trip rest area, Bill wanted to tell him to "Shut the #$*& up.” But we were told by a fellow passenger in so many words, this is not done in polite Costa Rican company. I guess Ticos would rather put up with a self-righteous jerk than confront him. So we settled for moving to the back of the bus. I guess it was better than landing in a Costa Rican jail, but certainly not as satisfying.

And, yes, the man kept up his non-stop prattle for another two hours until the end of the bus ride. You got to give it to him for stamina.

That's the end of that Costa Rican snipet.

We’ve arrived at the casitas. They have grown beautifully lush since we landscaped last December. We’ve always been told things grow fast here and our little tropical garden is no exception.

The very first day in Dominical, we ate lunch beside a river filled with crocodiles while an iguana gluttonously eyeballed us, watched a lizard walk on water and saw fish with glowing eyes at the top of their heads. At the cabins the parrots flocked in nearby trees and fireflies put on a light show. The next day this little guy inspected my dishwashing job.

No Hay en Todo Paiz

“They don’t have ‘it” in the whole country.” Bill and I hear that a lot down here. We brought our low voltage patio lights from the states because we were told, “No hay en todo Paiz.”

Peanut butter with one ingredient - peanuts, I brought two jars from the US because I thought possibly “No hay en todo paiz.” I wasn’t taking any chances. I enjoy a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast every once in a while and I don’t want it loaded with sugar, salt and artery clogging polyunsaturated fats. The demand for natural foods hasn’t exactly taken over your average Costa Rican consumer.

The fact that you may not be able to find what you want in a third world country shouldn’t be so surprising. As the cliché goes, “When in Rome, do like the Romans.” or in this case, make do like the Costa Ricans.

Imagine though, if you were in the U.S. and had a Toyota Corolla and someone bumped you in the parking lot of the grocery store while you were inside. On the way home your right front blinker light falls off. You notice this when you get home a half-hour later.

Tough luck. You have to get a new turn signal lamp. You go to three or four auto part stores. Each one tells you they don’t have the part and they can’t get one. Or they tell you they will order the part for you and they’ll have it next Tuesday. Tuesday comes around. You have to call them. It turns out they don’t have the part after all and they can’t get it.

You’re desperate, you now figure you’ll go to the authorized Toyota parts dealer, even though you’ll have to pay an arm and a leg more. Oh, you wish! The Mitsubishi, I mean, Toyota parts dealer, tells you, “ We don’t have a part like that in the entire country.”

If you’re like Bill and I you’re thinking, “ How many Toyota Corollas (Mitsubishi Gallopers) are there on the road. It’s a darn popular car and you’re telling me the manufacturer doesn’t distribute parts in the country? Apparently not. We haven’t been able to locate one yet and it’s been a month. We’re holding on till next Tuesday….


We all know how ingenious Bill is though. He has fixed the problem. Here is a picture of our front turn signal lamp. Again, don't laugh. It works. If you can't figure out what you're looking at, send Bill or I an email, we'll be glad to tell you.

A Typical Britz Solution

Robbed

The reason why the blog stopped for a while was that my parents came down to visit us for three weeks. I was enjoying precious time with them. I wouldn’t have known just how precious time was except for the thieves that took some of the time away from us.

Would you rob these people? Cruel and evil people did. It’s a lecherous side to this country and it deserves to be told. I’m almost too enraged to do it. All I can say is you have to be careful here. There are organized and efficient thieves in Costa Rica who think nothing of taking advantage of the elderly and/or unsuspecting tourists. The most hurtful thing that these pigs take from you is your piece of mind, your dignity and your vacation time. You have to spend hours filling out reports in the O y J (Police station), hours filling out passport paper work, hours waiting in lines and sometimes days to travel to and from the embassy in San Jose.

WARNING ABOUT PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION IN COSTA RICA

If you are riding public transportation, especially the MUSOC bus, be aware at all times of what is going on around you. Guard you bags. Wear a money belt. Keep your valuables, including your passport, on your person. Divide your valuables amongst your bags, so if one is stolen, you have something. Trust no one.

A common trick that happens on buses here, is that an official-looking, uniformed person, who may or may not be an bus employee, will take your bag and "help" you store it in the overhead storage of the bus. Then before the bus even leaves the station, another official-looking accomplice will quietly take the bag from the overhead and carry it off the bus, efficiently parting you with your belongings. (In my parent’s case, a witness said that the thieves left through the employee door of the MUSOC station.)

If your passport is stolen in Costa Rica, you’ll have to personally visit the U.S. Embassy in Pavas to get it replaced before you can leave the country. Judging from the numbers of dazed and confused families that I saw at the embassy, passports get stolen frequently in Costa Rica. If your passport is stolen, there are several forms you’ll have to fill out. If you can, I highly recommend that you download them from the Internet and have them completed before you get to the embassy. It helps the embassy out and it will help speed up your visit there. You can also have your photos taken at the embassy for a reasonable price.

I’d just like to say that the U.S. Embassy was very understanding, helpful and efficient in processing my parent’s passports. Thanks to everyone there!

The Pool Boy

Our pool was completed about a week ago. Here's a record of the first dip-ding. Uhm, I mean dip, for posterity.

"I'm a proud pool owner. I own a quarter of this pool."

"Look at me, Mom! I'm going in."

"Yikes! It's cold."

"Oh yeah. This is the life. I'm a happy pool owner."

"Now this is relaxation!"

Vaqueros II

Bill’s unruly horse caused him to walk half way down the mountain to the next phase of our journey. We corralled the horses and began our walk into the jungle. It wasn’t long before we could hear rapids. We were approaching a river.

"Oh, good, the waterfall at last," I thought.

If only things in Costa Rica were that easy. Then again, if they were, I wouldn’t have any blog fodder.
We arrive at the river. Pretty river. No waterfall though. What was waiting for us would give anyone with acrophobia (like me) a pause - a hand-propelled hanging manual cable tram. Why not? You can’t be a stickler on safety regulations in Costa Rica. Hang on and enjoy the ride!

You mean to tell me we're crossing the river in that thing?

Yup!

Smile! You're on Tram Cam.

Another short walk in the jungle and we are there. Incredible!

Thunder poured over the rocks.

The trip home was almost uneventful. The horses seemed to race each other back up the mountain. They moved faster going home. They must have been anticipating getting us off their backs.

I was alone at the back of pack again and every one else went up a muddy hill. (Remember I told you my horse didn’t like the mud?) Citron decided to stay on the rocky road. By this time, I’m thinking, "I’m almost home. I survived!" I’m also proudly thinking that I might make a vaquera after all. My tush was certainly not wanting the horse to lead me the long way home, so I turned the creature around and up the muddy path we went.



With Bill surviving a bucking horse and me showing my horse who’s the boss, you might just call us vaqueros after all.

Vaqueros I

On Thursday Bill and I played cowboys, or in Spanish, vaqueros. There were no Indians in sight though, just the beautiful, pastoral Costa Rican countryside with a spectacular waterfall as our destination.

It was Bill’s very first horsey ride. The only problem was that his horsey didn’t like him very much. These are trail animals that are supposed to be trained to follow the leader, be docile and put up with rookie riders like us. Luck of the draw, I guess, but Bill’s horse didn’t want anything to do with that.

My horse, on the other hand, was very much like me. Citron liked to eat a lot along the way and didn’t like walking through the mud. I spent the majority of the ride bringing up the rear. And hurting my own rear in the process. I’m having a painful time sitting on this hard chair writing.

Bringing up the Rear

Bill on the other hand is not so saddle sore. You see, about midway through the ride his horse decides that he would be better off without Bill’s dead weight. I’m plodding along behind the pack when Bill and his horse abruptly step off the trail, head up a bank and stop by a barbed wire fence.

“Whatcha doing, Bill?” I yell.

He perplexily replies, “ I don’t know. I just thought I’d let the horse choose his own path.”

Normally, it would have been a smart and reasonable answer, except that the horse didn’t want to be reasonable. The horse charged down the bank, began to twist and turn, and bucked his back legs. (Sorry, I wasn’t quick enough to get a picture of it.) Carlos, the trail guide, managed to grab Bill’s horse by the rein. The horse was still bucking. Although Carlos managed to calm the horse, Bill had had enough. “It’s downhill. I’ll walk."

Enough. I'll walk.

At some point I started envying Bill. By that time, I thought my legs were never going to be straight again and my haunches were aching with every stride of my horse. I’m no vaquero and have no plans to be again soon, but I could swear its much easier riding a horse uphill than down.

$100 Worth of Plants

The pool is coming along. In fact the pool is just about ready for its final hook-up and fill. The deck, however, is still being worked on. Every morning the workers arrive between 5:30AM and 6AM and the noise and shouting begin right outside our bedroom window. I think I’ve mentioned that the window is a mesh screen with a see-through bamboo shade. Another two more weeks, I think, and all will be done. Hopefully, just in time for my parents who are supposed to arrive mid December.

The cat is getting more comfortable here. Look at him check out the pool.



He also discovered dragonflies beside the pool. He looked very bedazzled as they flew around him. He’s used to birds that fly in one direction like an airplane. Dragonflies are like helicopters. They go all directions. They can fly forward, stop, stay still, and fly backwards. Mystery didn’t quite know what to make of that. He looked like a crazed cat with shifty little eyes trying to follow dragonflies. The silliest part of it all was his cat-chirpy-bird-call for the dragonflies. I wonder why that didn’t work, Mystery?

Well, I did my first garden planning and planting. I should say, I planned and purchased the plants. Our caretaker’s son actually planted the plants where I placed them. Here is my first landscaping on the property.

It’s on an area where the plants we don’t want the plants to grow very tall or they will block the beautiful view from the pool. Now I just have to wait for the plants to grow and fill in. Here I am, impatiently waiting, waiting, waiting…?

Grow! Will you grow?

For all the ladies of Totem Lake Garden Club back in Washington State, plants are reasonably priced down here. It’s hard not to go crazy over all the tropical beauties, but I’m sticking with the tried and true growers of the area. In other words, I just get what everyone else has.

Here is about $100 worth of tropical plants

From these pictures you might get an idea of the slippery red clay soil that we have here and why I will be so glad when all the construction of concrete walkways are completed. It will mean mudless shoes and much cleaner cabin. Honestly, folks, the mud around here will pull clasped sandals right of your feet.

Bugged

I wish that the title of this blog referred to a CIA activity. Instead it refers to the creepy, crawly six to eight legged creatures that will probably survive on this planet long after humans.

Not if Bill has anything to do with it though! He’s on a personal mission every night to kill every bug in the cabin. His weapon of choice – the vacuum that we purchased at Golfito.

Bill's new de-bugging job

Happy Thanksgiving

I pulled another bone-headed move on Thanksgiving that leads me to believe that I’m too stupid to live in this country. We were driving home from San Jose. It’s a four-hour drive from heck that Bill hates because it’s so dangerous and stressful. There is no ‘delay of five vehicles law’ here. If you get stuck behind a truck going 20 miles per hour on the windy two-lane mountain highway, you’re simply out of luck. You have two choices. You can accept your fate and travel in a fast-as-snails caravan with who knows how many cars in front of you. Or you can tempt your fate by passing each car in front of you on the curvy road. Bill is not a snail, thus our harrowing and stressful drive.

I’m getting to the bone-headed part. We stopped at a grocery store about an hour from home. Bill waited in the car while I ran in and got stuff for a Thanksgiving party that we going to. Shopping here is not exactly as easily or orderly as in the US. You have to remember several things in order for the whole process to run smoothly. 1) Check in your bag. Each store has a bag check counter at its entrance. If you’re carrying a large bag or backpack, you give it to the bag checker and he gives you a numbered tag. I did that. After shopping as you leave the store, you redeem your tag and get your bag back. 2) If you buy produce, you have to have it weighed and priced in the produce area by the produce person. First hand experience has taught me that if you don’t do this, the Tico behind you in the checkout line is going to give you dirty looks. They must be thinking,"Dumb Gringo. You need to know the system." You’ll hold up the whole checkout process while they take your produce back to the produce department to weigh and price it. I did that. My potatoes were ready at check out.

It was only an hour later, within a half a kilometer from the property that I discovered my bag tag in my pocket. Oops! My mistake. Bill had had enough driving for the day, so I’m back in the car alone for another two hours just to pick up my backpack.

To spite my extra driving, we made it to Thanksgiving dinner and had a wonderful time with our neighbors. They know how to throw a party. In the eclectic style of the region, fall decorations glowed in the tropical sunshine. In case you’re wondering, Thanksgiving is a Gringo thing. Turkey isn’t readily available, so we made due with roasted chicken at our feast. There were Ticos at this party who thought the stuffing, bean casserole, quiche and pumpkin pie were very strange. We just thought it delicious.

We miss the friends and family not with us. You are in our thoughts and we hope that you had a Happy Thanksgiving.

Jumper Cables & Coat Hangers

Something happened when I came to Costa Rica. I discovered that I left my brain behind in the states. It’s not a good thing to do because you always meet more challenges here than in the U.S., at least the Gringa part of me is. The Tica part of me has yet to find herself. It’s a learning process.

Three incidents cause me to believe that my brain goes on vacation down here without me.

Incident 1 – Out of Gas

Bill was working at home and I was driving home from San Isdiro after picking up the car from the shop and running a few errands. San Isdiro is 45 minutes away, up and down the mountain in between. Driving home, just over the top of the mountain, the dummy lights in the car came on. I was out of gas in a gas-hogging car about 30 kilometers from home. Although I had thought of checking the gas right before I picked up the car, I forgot once I had picked it up. Now, after dark, I was on a curvy and treacherous two-lane road with no gas stations between me and home. I frantically called Bill and wanted to blame the whole thing on everything but me. He says, "Sorry, there is nothing I can do for you, honey. There is no way that you’ll make it home without gas. Stop somewhere, ask around and try and find some place to get a few gallons of gas."

I’m frickin’ terrified. I’m at a roadside restaurant, a lone female patron, surrounded by men just starting to come into the bar for an evening of cervezas (beers). Luckily, there was one beautiful Tica barmaid. I asked her where I could get gas. No problem, she said, 1 kilometer down the road at the first little roadside store or pulperia they sell gas.

Sure enough, although it’s not advertised and you’d never know it unless you asked, this hole-in-the-wall grocery store sells gas by the hand-filled gallon jug from behind the counter. I bought 5 gallons. The proprietress and her pre-adolescent son poured the gas into the tank with a homemade Coca-Cola bottle funnel and hose. I was on my way home in a jiffy.

Only to have the car over heat on the gravel road up to the property …but that leads to the next story…

Incident 2 – Lights

Surprise! A few days later, the car’s in the shop again with a broken head gasket. In case you haven’t surmised, this country is hard on cars. I was driving a rental car this time. Since it gets misty and rainy on the mountain roads, plus the Tico driving style is erratic, I do the safe thing and drive with my lights on. I want other drivers to see whom they narrowly miss by centimeters when they pass me.

This time I stopped by a roadside souvenir stand to buy some art for the cabins. I was in there for less than an hour. I came out and the car was deader than a rock. Again, I was on my own. Bill was at home and had no car.

My panic call to Bill is answered with, "You left the lights on! Of course the car is dead. Can you bump start it?"

"No the car’s facing up hill on a curve."

"Well, try to flag someone down."

I tried. In this case, there are two things you should know about Ticos. 1) They will do anything they can to help you. 2) They do not use jumper cables in this country.

Help came from the husband of the shop owner who told me the latter and demonstrated the former. After about an hour of trying to start the car, he finally pulled the battery out of his own car, removed my battery, put his into my car and started my car with his battery. Then he had me keep the car running while he took out his battery and replaced mine. Talk about your helpful roadside mechanic. I begged the man to accept $10 for his trouble and drove home.

But the day wasn’t over yet…

Artistic Plate from Costa Rica

Incident 3 – Coat Hangers

I’m now home safely from my morning’s misadventure. Bill teased me for leaving the car lights on and gave me a conciliatory hug for the crummy morning I had. Pretty soon, I’m off again to a nursery about 30 minutes down the road.

No matter where you are in Costa Rica, I think it’s a good idea to lock your car up tight whenever you leave it. I arrived at the nursery and did just that. Only as soon as I slammed the car door I realized in horror that the keys were in the ignition and my cell phone was still in the car.

There could be no panic call to Bill this time. (For which Bill says he is eternally grateful.)

Almost in tears, I walked into the nursery. The nursery guy asked me the perfect question, "How are you doing today?"

To which I replied, "Horrible, I just locked my keys and cell phone in the car."

"No problem," the guy said. "We can fix that. Everything is possible." Then he proceeded to tell me how he was going to break into my car. Unbelievably, he went to his own car, pulled out a coat hanger and started to do his thing.

"I keep this because sometimes I have to break into my own car," he said.

I’m thinking, yeah, right. This country is strange. Hardly anyone has jumper cables, but I bet you everyone carries coat hangers.

At this point, I was tearing up in frustration with my own stupidity, and was beyond caring. I was just praying that he could break into my car. He did. I bought an exorbitant amount of plants from the nursery and I left thinking that maybe he was right. Everything is possible in this country.

On Sunday, we had a chance to go to the beach.

Catroach

Mystery met a monster cockroach. In Bill’s own words, "That’s the biggest cockroach I’ve ever seen!" This roach was about four inches long and 1.5 inches wide. You’d think the cat would have a little fun with it. He sure likes hunting and playing with birdies in the states. I guess he didn’t quite know what to make of this creature.

The cat traveled extremely well with hardly a howl out of him in the airport, the plane, the taxi and the extremely curvy and bumpy car ride to the property. There was even the stop over at my aunt’s house with three yippy miniature poodles and three other cats. Surprisingly, Mystery came out of his carrier and immediately started eating.

Mystery also proved to be our good luck charm as we breezed through immigration and customs faster than we ever have before. Of course, credit has to be given to the airport staff for improving their processing operations immensely.

For anyone thinking of bringing his or her cat into Costa Rica, I have to say it was fairly easy to do.

You have to make sure you have the cat’s shots are up to date and a USDA accredited veterinarian examines the cat within ten days of the trip. The shots have to be within a year, but not less than thirty days prior to entry into the country. As of our on Nov. 2, 2008, the customs official was looking for either the Official Small Animal Health Certificate (International) or a U.S. Interstate and International certificate of Health Examination. The latter needed to be signed by my vet and send to the state capital to be approved by the state’s USDA vet within ten days of the trip. (Keep in mind, regulations change all the time in Costa Rica. Find out the current regulations right before you leave.)

We can’t say that the cat really likes it here yet. He spends most of his time hiding behind a mirror or in a bucket under the bathroom sink. You might say he’s a bucket case. He hasn’t shown much interest in leaving the cabin, which is good because I have mixed feelings about him leaving the safety of the cabin. After all, it’s a jungle out there.

Our Front Jungle (Yard)

We're Back

I better get back in blogging practice again because we are headed back to Pura Vida, the pure life, or so they call it in Costa Rica. I'm looking forward to sunshine, tropical fruits and fresh vegetables.

This time we're headed down to a neighborhood of friends with a new addition to the family - our cat. That in itself should be a frolicking good adventure. We all know how well cats adjust to new things. Mystery, or Misterio in Spanish, has already taken to excessive grooming and me to excessive worrying. Bill is certainly not helping the situation as he has nicknamed the cat "Boa Snack." It's all too probable for comfort. Maybe Karma will save the cat because we saved the dog last trip.

Here is the dog update: Squirt is now happily living on the property with our caretaker. The dog is being taken care of by the caretaker's 12 year old son who renamed her Copita, or little cup. We are looking forward to seeing them all.