Last Chance Cafe

I've just uploaded the past few days of postings and don't feel like writing more, I just want to surf for a bit, but I feel a nagging guilt to further document my new adventure sans editing.

The fight with the ants continues and I've run out of bug poison. I'll have to buy some standard stuff at the store today and suffer the fumes. The guy from the ministry of health will be by the place tomorrow to let us know what we 'officially' have to do to get the joint legal. I also found out that we can get a 'special' permit from El Cauldero, nudge-nudge-wink-wink, to serve alcohol. This livens things up a bit.

Met an old gringo, well, not too old, that was ripped off by a Panamanian partner in a restaurant deal who is now selling pork sandwiches and 'Japanese' curry on the side of the road near the central park. He has a Panamanian woman with him helping out and my mujer managed to get some inside scoop on the locals.

One disturbing thing so far is the internet. I've not made it to the cable or telephone company, but two other ISPs I've called so far want $50 a month for 128kbps. One is a wireless company that installs an antenna on the roof and runs a cable to a router. I'm not sure about the other one as I hung up pretty quick after I heard the price.

More later, out of time.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:51 PM | Permalink

The first night was full of weird noises. 'Tin roof- rusted' is not just a song lyric any more; it's a way of life. I awoke in the morning to strange sloshing sounds and it turned out to be the neighbor on the south side cleaning a mop in the space between our houses. We have jalousie windows, and the one by the kitchen sink, which seems to be permanently open, is just by the slosh spot. I made a pot of coffee with just enough racket to alert her to my awakened state. I'm guessing this will be a daily routine.

Went to the wireless hot spot this afternoon and spent an hour or so deleting trash and not-so trash email. I swear I would risk jail to have a chance to shoot a few of these bastards that steal my time. I only had time to return one quick email so I'll get to uploading this stuff tomorrow. Surprisingly only one spam comment on the blog, I guess I should be grateful for that.

Just got up from a nice nap and my housemate is cooking a little dinner. She got her nails done today and met the daughter of the nearest hotel's owner at the salon. She got a little dose of how gringo/Panameño relations work around here as far as hanging out goes, so we're set to hit up one of the local beer dives and mix it up tonight.

Hung a few pictures and started the first serious battle with the ants. Yesterday seemed to take care of a colony out on the back patio (Terro rules) and this morning was mopping up with the tiny little sugar ants in the kitchen. The neighbors on the north side have a kid from my understanding, and it seems said kid dropped a very delicious cookie somewhere that started the frontal assault. I could hardly believe the chunks of food traveling on my new freeway- beginning from right next to my front door, under the wall and diagonal across the adjoining room, then under the far wall to the neighbors.

I started with one ant bait right in the middle of the thoroughfare, then added another at the doorway interchange. I noticed the traffic was overwhelming the door spot bait so I moved the original next to it. The ants in the bathroom are taking their leisurely time, and the run out the back patio has changed to a new breed of fatter, blacker ants. The original crew has been replaced, so now my fifth bait has been opened, and I'm hoping for some relief before I crack the last of the box. I don't have my PO Box set up yet, so after that, I'm back to smelly spray cans.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:20 PM | Permalink

Found a wifi connection for a dollar an hour today and I should have some time to get there tomorrow and upload this crap. Tonight is the first night in the new place and I keep turning over in my head all the stuff that has to be done.

Today was 'get ready for tomorrow morning' day, i.e., dig the coffee pot out of the boxes and buy coffee. A hot shower is also a regular thing for me in the morning, but as I chose an older, more 'romantic' building to shack up in, this is problematic as there isn't a hot water heater.

The Central American solution (I'm sure as well as other more 'rustic' places) is an electric showerhead. If that sounds frightening, then I think you're normal, because actually using one for the first time was freaky for me. For those of you who missed the bulletin, water and electricity don't usually mix well, just read the tag on your hair dryer girls.

As I am also right on the mountain where the water gets made fresh, it comes out of the tap bracing cold. So I pulled out the old multi-meter and checked the voltage on the bare wires dangling above the showerhead and found 120 volts or so. Off to the market, buy electric widow-maker, home to the tool bag. The head needs a ground wire; there is no ground wire available.

Again, to the uninitiated, not having a ground wire might not ring any alarm bells, and to the handyman, this might not seem such a big deal unless you know that the conduit used throughout the house is PVC, and grounding to a junction box isn't in the cards. The entire building is wired using only hot and neutral.

OK. Run a ground wire to the breaker box, right? Um, no ground. Outside box? To the ground spike pounded into the concrete (and hopefully the earth) is attached a wire, which runs into the wall, which runs up to the box, where said wire is dangling useless inside said box.

Knucklehead solution? Run one long wire from ground spike, up through outside breaker box, to inside breaker box, out through new hole punched in box and back through entire length of the house to farthest corner where new showerhead is located.

Without further frightening details I tested, retested and tested some more. I used a lot of electrical tape and took a lukewarm shower tonight. As you can see I'm still alive, but I'll be looking into other options pretty soon as I have to rewire for 220 volts for the stove as well. This may also be problematic as there is only 120 volts coming from the meter. But that's next week's problem.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:18 PM | Permalink

So it looks like we're going to keep the place. Don Carlo (the landlord) seems like a decent chap, all our stuff is already in there and there's nothing-worthwhile readily available downtown. The great unpacking has begun.

Tomorrow is a big day to sign the lease, open a bank account, get cable/internet connected, change the electricity account and figure out how to map out the network and new power circuits. I'm going to go with Public IP to secure the wi-fi access.

The one thing we got here in Boquete is wind. The Volcano Baru, which we are pretty much attached to on the east side, is the highest point in Panama; thus the mild temperatures here as opposed to most of the rest of the sweltering country. Of course the higher you go- the more wind you run into. Plus you get the clouds running into the place, which makes for some hourly schizophrenic weather mood swings.

The effect of the wind combined with the frequent sun/cloud switch has turned my face into a beet. You never really feel hot, but the sun gets you. The Panama hat may need to come out soon.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:17 PM | Permalink

I didn't have my camera so I couldn't take pictures of the poultry living in my new space. Ludwig, the landlord's son, promised that he would have the place cleaned up before the truck arrived. This didn't comfort me as much as one might think. One might also think from the chickens that the place isn't exactly a palace. One might be right. But that's not a big issue, as the design firm of "me, myself and I" will be hot on the job turning the joint into a gringo paradise. I may even adopt one of my feathery friends as a mascot.

What is a big issue is location. My first impression was that it was too far from the main business center that surrounds the central park, though it's definitely a comfortable walking distance. During the day I went back and forth between 'downtown' and the feeling faded. People that visit love to explore and the locals all have cars so it seemed to get closer as time went on- until dark.

Boquete is a quiet place and just after 9 PM we walked back from the center of town and a fine restaurant. There are constant breezes through the trees and a river and a few streams so it's not 'cricket' quiet, but we were practically whispering on our walk so as not to disturb the peace. It was a rare house with a burning porch light or more than a few illuminated windows, and the new locale couldn't come up fast enough for me.

We'll need to discuss this today.

The truck breezed through customs with nary a look inside. What I was not aware of is that you need paperwork for the load from the Costa Rican side to start the paperwork on the Panamanian side. We hired an old 'helper' that the locals call Charlie Bronson for all the right reasons (If you can imagine, think Charlie Brown mixed with Charles Bronson). Charlie works both sides of the line.

Total customs transit cost: CR- $120 + Panama- $210 + Charlie- $60 = $390. Total time: CR- 8 to 10 AM including translating our paperwork into usable form retyping, stamps, passports and transit. 10 to 11 AM in line with the rest of the trucks. 11 AM to 1 PM passed by the first customs area (paperwork was already done by Charlie) into the bonded 'warehouse' section where the truck was opened and everybody had lunch, made jokes and entry paperwork was issued. No boxes were opened or removed from the truck.

15 to 20 minutes inside Panama the truck was waved through the second customs and control area (where about half the time they check my passport and tourist card) and by three o'clock it pulled up to our place in Boquete. Other costs involved in the trip were: $850 to transport our stuff in the semi- San Jose to Boquete; $210 dollars taxi from San Jose to the border at Paso Canoas (seven hours with traffic and construction); $100 for two days taxi inside Panama (including the driver helping to unload the truck in Boquete); and $21 for the Hotel in David for the first night (I went on ahead to get the space ready while the little lady stayed with the truck). Total: 2 days and $1571.

It's now about time to go out and round up some coffee and get the day rolling. See you tomorrow.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:16 PM | Permalink

8:48 PM, Tuesday March 6, 2007.

Umm… 8:39. Whatever. The Hotel Cervantes in David, Panama. My toes are trying to creep out of the holes in my socks sucking for air after the long slog from San Jose.

It's not hot tonight as I hang out the window smoking a cigarette waiting for the sandman. There's no internet connection, and for 21 bucks I don't deserve the internet. I'm guessing at least a week before I can collect my email and twice that until the new place is wired up. I heard Libby is going to be executed on Friday. Hah! Just kidding lefties.

So what can one say about opening a bar in the shadow of a volcano in Panama? Sounds cool anyway. I've got a bunch of crap to hang on the walls for that 'homey' look from the States, and other stuff I collected during the past two years that should be useful. It's all on its way over the mountains as we speak and will arrive at the border tomorrow morning.

La Vieja is there waiting to see what the other half of the bribe is going to be. So far we're well under two hundred bucks, and if all goes well I'll be unloading into my new digs in Boquete around noon tomorrow. Before that I'll be heading over to the mechanic to see how long I'm going to be waiting for my car.

For those of you keeping score it broke down again about three or four weeks ago around five miles from here. If my woman hadn't already driven me to drink this car would definitely be the backbreaking straw. But I'm just going to smile and wave a few hundreds under the mechanic's nose to see if I can wake him out of his stupor. I'm fading, one more smoke and it's the rack.

Posted by petefredbob at 01:12 PM | Permalink

Last week I took the car back to the mechanic for some final adjustments before the Panama trip. The power seat had given up the ghost on the tilt function, which left me somehow sitting deep in a bucket with my knees brushing the steering wheel and needing to use my toes to operate the pedals. The exhaust developed a leak as well and the roof decided to not operate which, along with the non-functioning air conditioner should prove for an uncomfortable journey. After three days they had the exhaust leak fixed and changed the oil- nada mas.

So sitting in my bucket I tiptoed the car south and west over the Costa Rican central mountains to the border with Panama. I drove slowly and It wasn't as bad as I had imagined. We left Sunday morning, hit virtually no traffic and the car was responding well to the hills.

We hit the border around 1 PM and had a relatively smooth crossing as I had made all the copies of the paperwork for getting the car across ahead of time. Then the noise started.

Continue reading "Or There And Back Again" »

Posted by petefredbob at 03:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

So were up early to head down to Panamá. It's between 5 and 10 hours depending on who you ask, which just goes to show you, don't ask. We'll be in Chiriquí Province visiting the city of David and the Pueblos of Boquete, El Hato de Volcán and maybe a couple of other joints on the way.

Posted by petefredbob at 06:29 AM | Permalink

That was the captain speaking for the second time. The first time was right after the oops when they said put away all-a-yer gadgets then teased us for the next hour or so flying in circles around the airport. Which was 'embargoed.' I understood that word. So this time we're headed back to Panama again for a nice (or not so nice) hotel. I think. Anyway the clock says eleven which means twelve Panama time and I've been up since five running back and forth across the continent so I'll post this tomorrow but I got a good excuse. Amen.

Tuesday morning coming up on 10 CR time and I'm in the plane again. A phone call came to the room shortly after my first attempt to get dressed this morning and the muchacha asked me if I wanted it in English or Spanish. In English, this was a one time special offer to get on a plane now instead of waiting until 3 o'clock. I took the offer.

Home now and ready to post. I'm bushed and headed to bed for some more zzzs.

Posted by petefredbob at 03:13 PM | Permalink

The captain is babbling on in Spanish and I can't understand a word he's saying. He's really going on a long time. Thank God he's stopped. I should have been home curled up in my jammies by now but instead I'm on my second flight tonight from Panama to Costa Rica. The first one didn't work out so well.

I was poking fun at my flying companion, as she's a little bit scared of flying. I was asking her why the mountains were so close to the plane as we were approaching San Jose. Then we hit some clouds in low, and the mountains really did appear kinda close. Then there was nothing but the half-staccato flashing reflection off the clouds from the wing light taking up all my attention—then the pilot floored it and we began to climb pdq.

The official reason was something about too much rain, which, I guess is believable because it's the rainy season. I even saw some today in Panama. But I mean, who hasn't had a harrowing landing coming into San Francisco or pick your poison airport? Anyhow, instead of picking out some other landing strip in Costa Rica they flew us back to Panama, then they told us that if we weren't citizens we couldn't get back into the country.

But if you saw that movie with that Tom Hanks guy you know that airports are their own country or something so, being that it was late I got off the plane for a surreptitious smoke while wandering the halls. It seems that the smoking police have made slightly more inroads in Panama than in Costa Rica,
nonetheless with a few junior high school tricks I was able to keep the official looking folks fooled long enough for a nice relaxing Marlboro.

Somebody must have been thinking really hard about things because basically they only just gassed up the old jet and pointed her north again, which on my way there I'm writing this with the intention of posting as soon as I get the home wireless signal at the casa. Oops. More later.

Posted by petefredbob at 02:51 PM | Permalink

Boy Mexico City is big. It's always fun coming into a new airport if you have a window seat. We came down through the clouds into a little normal turbulence and when I looked out the window again I saw lots of trees. And they were close. Because they were on a mountain. Then we dropped more and we were below some of the taller peaks already. My first impression was it's big. Then I made the comparison to L.A., but it seemed that the city was more tightly packed, which I'm guessing it is.

Another difference was the colors. Lots of yellow and brown and red and green and blue on the buildings and houses. We should get some more color in the US, it's nice for the eyes. The airport was a relative breeze, even though I was the lucky one to have my bags searched. The lady was nice, but of course I got taken by one of the guys dragging my bags to the taxi. He got the equivalent of a twenty from me, so I got a quick lesson in Mexican mathematics.

I'm at the W hotel which is pretty damn cool. I took some pictures of the room that I'll post later but I want to get out and take a few shots around the place first. And the hotel staff got me on the wireless network in about two minutes. So far, two thumbs up.

Posted by petefredbob at 05:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The road from the mountains to the beach was a real eye opener to what level of inconvenience people will put up with. But then again, I'm not all that old and my memories from childhood do recall that the streets in the US weren't always paved with gold. As a matter of fact NYC had serious pothole problems right through the seventies.

But thanks to Ike and the US congress, and federal matching funds, the interstate highway system and any road resembling a main drag is for the most part passable; or under construction. I had to retrace about thirty miles of highway number one, or the Pan American Highway, for the trip home from the beach. I got an early start, and after a twenty-kilometer detour down a series of less than paved thoroughfares, found myself headed south.

It wasn't long before I found the beginning of the wako stretch that had taken me and my suspension by surprise a couple of days before. I was ready for it and adjusted my seat belt accordingly. Traffic was relatively light at first, which enabled me to get into a dodge and pass rhythm and correctly gauge oncoming traffic. It's a tricky dance, which requires judging when the car in front is going to swing around a wako, which will buy you the ditch on the side of the road if you happen to be in the wrong spot when that happens.

My relatively underpowered Daihatsu also needed a bit of a running start to pass, especially the trucks and buses, and it wasn't a wise idea to start a pass on an upgrade. Pretty soon I was traveling at around a hundred klicks, which translates to around sixty-two mph, but feels like a hundred under the circumstances. I started to pick up a train of like-minded runners, which looked like a mechanized sectional snake in the rearview mirror as we took a serpentine route around the less inclined motorists.

Things were going like a dream until I looked to the left and found a radar gun pointed in my direction-with an accompanying officer emphatically pointing to the side of the road. Needless to say, I lost my place in the entourage, but the excitement was getting to me anyway so a break was in order. The officer and I introduced ourselves.

It was a pleasant and civilized exchange, with his electronically armed amigo arriving forthwith to display the incriminating numerals: 101 klicks. It was explained to me that 'one hundred' is a magic number around these parts and that its accomplishment (indeed the exceeding of it) qualified me to receive a summons celebrating the event. I politely inquired into the details surrounding the ritual using one of the more useful words in my Spanish lexiconic arsenal, "Cuando?"

This was a winner, as I found out that there was a special discount for immediate remittance. Not only that, but the pesky paperwork and reporting to the local rental agency was also waived. Huzzah…er…Feliz! My virginity intact, the officer and I exchanged cash for passport, and we parted the best of friends.

I learned a valuable lesson in cross-cultural exchanges that day; be polite, ask questions, and value the 'other.'

Posted by petefredbob at 01:02 PM | Permalink

After living in Costa Rica for a while you forget that it's not just another place in America that happens to speak a lot of Spanish. I mean, you have KFC and Ford pickup trucks and movie rental joints and shopping malls with Nine West hawking shoes. Once you get used to it and pick up the lingo it seems pretty normal. But then something pops up to remind you you're not in Kansas anymore.

Tamarindo is the place where gringos and Ticos with a couple of colones go to soak up the rays and get their feet wet, so it was with much consternation I found that aside from the main road into town the other roads were (or I should say, the other road was) dirt. And that's being generous. The options for repose ranged from (mostly)'cheesy motel' to the huge resort on the beach. It took only a couple of inquiries at the lesser offerings until I gave in and went for the big one.

The place screeched opulence with a swimming pool off the lobby and big spaces open to the great out of doors. The room choices were merely expensive, and really expensive. I took the merely expensive one. That lasted one night. The shower lacked hot water (until the following morning) the table lamp next to the bed didn’t work, the lock on the door was akin to something you'd find on the bathroom door of a cheap tract home and it didn't look as if the housekeeping department had been made aware of its existence. Snow was the main program on the tube. There was also an open window in the bathroom that shared its screen with the kitchen.

The room's saving grace was that the porch outside the front door faced the beach. It was a lovely view. The dissonance between the grand commons and the cheap quarters had me scratching my cabeza. The following night I spent in the new (read: really expensive) section, which faced the main road into town (wtf?) and aside from the ubiquitous ants was more akin to a medium priced US hotel, with the welcome addition of a large comfy shower.

The strangeness of the shower manifested in that it had a glass window right around eyeball level that opened onto the hallway ensuring that the neighbors would have no doubt about your hygiene. Extracurricular-shared shower activities would require some degree of exhibitionism. Assuming the proper level of openness (hey, we're in another country) and wallet filler, one may enjoy an exciting stay worth a couple of Polaroids at the very least.

Alas, the clientele was nearly entirely Euro/Norte Americano and various other strains of gringo, which meant interaction with the locals was limited to trying out my hackneyed Spanish on the wait staff and bartenders. There was a degree of comfortableness to this arrangement though, because my pasty white body wasn't the only one getting lobsterized at the pool.

Next installment: The drive home; or how to save on your next speeding ticket by paying at the source.

Posted by petefredbob at 12:17 PM | Permalink

Breakfast wasn't bad, typical fare with custom omelets to order, lots of fresh fruit and hormigas. That would be: ants. They seemed to have taken over the corner table. Ants seem to come in two varieties here: really small and really big. These were the small ones so maybe the wait staff thought they wouldn't eat much.

Off on the bus to the stables. My mount was called Herman, which everyone thought was funny for some reason. Then we started out. Herman, like all other horses I guess, has his own unique personality. His was type 'A.' Only one person in our group had any significant riding experience and apparently Herman had some kind of issue with her horse. When she went, I went, which was pretty much most of the time.

After a while my riding partner (she seemed to be my riding partner because it was us out in front by a quarter mile for most of the day) had pity and backed off the gas a bit. I made it in one piece to the stables near the top of the mountain but had worries for a moment about my immediate fitness to fly through the treetops.

I had the day before spent an hour or so in an Austrian cable car in a peaceful excursion through the trees on the way up to another set of zip lines. I watched as the other folks hooked up to the lines and set off through the jungle and felt pretty confident that this would be a piece of cake. But this setup definitely was not built by the Austrian. And judging from the rust and generally haphazard way the platforms were wrapped around the various old growth trees, it wasn't done recently either.

Whereas the prior day's apparatus had some kind of ingenious T-bar contraption to hold on to and twist when it was time to brake, this setup consisted of a wheel that ran along the wire and a leather glove gizmo for the brake. But don't squeeze, or you'll rip your arm off. And yes, I did squeeze once, and yes, I felt the tendons stretch into abnormally long configurations. I had my first twinge of fear (or excitement, if you will).

I will say that this is about as close as you get to a cross between riding a motorcycle without a helmet and a roller coaster. The fact that you look down into a drop that will make you monkey food should something silly happen almost makes it feel like flying except for the 'zip' noise that gives this pastime its nickname. That and the fact that you're holding on for dear life trying to remember not to rip your arm off. There were only two or three incidents that thankfully, didn't involve me.

The first involved a boy of about 8 that his brilliant parents thought would enjoy having the hell scared out of him, and that of his 9-year-old brother. They didn't make it all the way to the other side and had to be dragged in. The third involved a woman that paid not heed to the frantic guide on the receiving end waving to her to brake. He braked for her. This ended up spinning her around and sending her a short way back out on the cable.

Done with the fun we regrouped with the herd and I had what I thought was a civilized conversation with Herman. He nodded, wiggled his ears and generally seemed to understand that this was not in fact a horse race, but a leisurely walk home to get some more hay or something. What I found out was that he was merely humoring me and had every intention of getting home as fast as he could and getting me off his back.

I learned that there is a point in a horse's gait, at a certain speed, traveling downhill, where the rider is projected straight up into the air and comes down hard on the saddle just when said horse is in the middle of going up again. This produces a relatively painful sensation in the rider's hindquarters. Attempt to mitigate this activity will produce any number of reactions from horsey. One of which is to turn his wild-eyed head around as if to say, "If you yank on these reins any more I will bite you." Needless to say, the ride home seemed like an eternity, even as it actually took about half the time of the trip up.

Tomorrow's adventure: driving on the (supposed) CR roads to the playa (that would be 'the beach.'

Posted by petefredbob at 03:24 PM | Permalink

Finally got out of the city this week to see what the rest of the place looks like, and to check out my driving skills. As to the second I'm glad that I spent so much time not driving and just watching. As fate would have it I wound up renting a car after dark, so my first jump into traffic in the middle of town was less than ideal. By the time I got home I had both turned the wrong way up a one way street and purposely ran a red light with a group of other not so patient drivers. I may have mentioned before that signs and signals seem to be mere suggestions in these parts.

I spent the next day cruising familiar parts of town, drove over to my new digs and went to the mall. I went out again at night to nail down my night vision and work on interpreting the strange traffic lights, and by the next day I was ready to cruise.

I've driven across the US three times and have seen some roads and read some maps. I've driven around Mexico, Canada and Spain, but this was interesting. I applaud the cooperation between NASA and the government of Costa Rica for their current project of aerial photography to help map the country, because current maps don’t do justice to the joint. Pavement also seems to be an option. One of the more important skills that you would be wise to brush up on is your passing technique.

Lounging around the two to ten lane behemoths with nary an oncoming vehicle in sight tends to make one lazy and unaccustomed to the particular adrenaline rush of the grill of a Mack truck looming larger as the guy next to you decides he really wants to be first in line. In an underpowered 4x4 Daihatsu rental in the rain and dodging potholes

The first stop was the Volcano Arenal, which since 1968 or 69 has been spewing matter into the atmosphere for your viewing pleasure. The American driving public (of the Estados Unidos persuasion) has it easy. You can't practically get out of your driveway without a sign establishing your whereabouts. Even tiny secondary roads are marked with little arrows at the intersections nudging you in the right direction, and informing you as to whether you're going north, south or otherwise. Here sometimes you just can't buy a sign. You've just kinda got to know where you're going, and get the feel for which way traffic is moving as you pass through the towns along the way.

As a matter of course we visited three unscheduled places and at one point were nearly pointed at the sky as we crawled up a dirt road (considering kicking in the four wheel drive, if not for the fear of stopping to do so) looking to reconnect with the main 'highway.' We arrived after dark, in the fog, to find that the travel agent had failed to confirm the reservations at the Hotel Montana de Fuego.

In the light of day the resort was lovely with two different groupings of cabins, almost all of which had some kind of view of the volcano. It's kinda big though so it's hard to miss. I took some pictures and then drove around to find different views and to see how close we could get. I found what I thought was a nice composition between some trees and pulled over to take a couple of shots. As I did I heard what sounded like the chugging of an old-fashioned steam locomotive coming from the direction of the mountain and watched a big puff of smoke pop out the top. Yassir, this was a live one.

The rest of the day was spent driving and hiking around for the better shot, and I was lucky enough to get some night shots with lava flows.

Next adventure: Horseback riding up a mountain to the zip lines for the canopy tour, where you clip your harness onto a steel cable and hope you have followed the instructions reasonably well. Tune in to see if I made it to the other side. (Hint: I am actually writing this after the fact and at the beach as the capillaries in my legs attempt to deliver blood to my lobsterized skin in a deliciously painful way).

Update: Comment spammers suck. Comments closed.

Posted by petefredbob at 11:43 PM | Permalink

Went to the San Antonio section of Escazu yesterday to see what I could see. While the San Rafael section is pretty much gringo-ized, SA is still very much all local color. I took over a hundred snaps but wound up with half a dozen usable. The learning curve continues apace.

It was overcast the entire day, which according to Ed is a photographer's delight in that you get overall soft lighting and no shadows. This he tells me afterwards (thank you skype). I shot 90% using iso 800, which despite the amazing machine at my disposal pretty much softened every shot, and introduced me to the concept of noise.

I have however narrowed my aperture settings to between 9 and 13, and seem to be getting reasonable depth of field. In the continued section below are four of the six 'keepers' for your viewing pleasure.

Continue reading "San Antonio, Escazu" »

Posted by petefredbob at 10:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I'm uploading pics at the moment, and it will take another two hours for all of them (full size and resized). Remember that if you click on the smaller ones (about 200-500 kb) in the extended entry section, you'll go to the big ones, which run between 3.5 and 7 mb. Make sure you really want to click.

That wasn't so bad now, was it? There's only 2 minutes left to upload and I'm done with the html for the pictures. Of course for you it seems like nothing, because you can click now, because it's tomorrow and I'm writing this last night, and it's as if time stood still or something.

These are mostly people pics from the Plaza de la Cultura in downtown San Jose with a few from the surrounding neighborhoods. Enjoy.

Continue reading "Sunday Pictures" »

Posted by petefredbob at 09:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I'm still working on the photos I took yesterday, which need some Photoshop work. It was seriously overcast, and (add more excuses here). I snapped around 200 shots and the editing is brutal. I'm also playing around with Flickr and Exposure Manager to deal with posting pics and I haven't decided which way to go, if I go anywhere.

In the meantime I had noticed a story some days ago on Drudge about an editor at Playgirl Magazine that outed herself as a Bush voter realizing she had begun to lean right politically. I thought it was a good story and indicative of one of the reasons Bush was reelected. Now they (the brass at Playgirl) have gone fired her, with a laugh.

"Hello Drudge,

"After your coverage of my article about coming out and voting Republican, I did receive many letters of support from fellow Republican voters, but it was not without repercussions. Criticism from the liberal left ensued. A few days after the onslaught of liberal backlash, I was released from my duties at Playgirl magazine.

"After underlings expressed their disinterest of working for an outed Republican editor, I have a strong suspicion that my position was no longer valued by Playgirl executives. I also received a phone call from a leading official from Playgirl magazine, in which he stated with a laugh, "I wouldn't have hired you if I knew you were a Republican.

"I just wanted to let you know of the fear the liberal left has about a woman with power possessing Republican views."

So I felt compelled to write to the editor of Playgirl the following (Editorial@playgirlmag.com):

Michele Zipp shows how both sides of the aisle may peacefully coexist by working for and embracing a liberal publication such as yours, then you go and disrespect her for simply telling the truth about her voting preferences.

Hypocrite is the first word that comes to mind, followed immediately by intolerant, with words like dishonest and stupid rushing after.

Typical is the word I finish with. Congratulations, you have reinforced a stereotype of the illiberal liberal media. Open your eyes, it's a big world out there, and it's not really so scary.

One after the other our brave self-proclaimed defenders of tolerance and liberal thought out themselves as intolerant hypocrites, to which I say, "more faster, please." What dumbasses.

Oops. A big boom outside and the electric went out for about a minute. I remember blackouts when I was a kid in the sixties and early seventies, but not so much in recent years (notable exception when the entire northeast went dark a couple of years ago). Since I've been in Costa Rica there've been at least three I've noticed in my neighborhood.

Posted by petefredbob at 09:09 AM | Permalink

That didn't work. I remember coming to L.A. years ago from the east coast and attempting to conduct business and make new friends. Everyone knows the stereotype, "I'll have my girl call your girl and we'll do lunch," after which nobody's girl called anybody and lunch was had elsewhere. I remember waiting for phone calls and looking at my watch at restaurants wondering WTF? I learned not to expect too much and to call and remind people prior to meetings.

I called my 'assistant' yesterday morning and confirmed our meeting. I then spent a few hours reading up on photography techniques, taking test shots around the house and thinking of locations in town that I remembered. Thirty minutes after our rendezvous was to take place I decided to check my phone messages, as service down here can be sketchy. Sure enough, it was Cleo passing on an apology that Laura couldn't make it but would be happy to come with me mañana.

I've run into the mañana factor several times since I've been here, to which I say, "mañana." I did some research and found a local business that provides assistants to gringos, went to meet one, and settled on a price. We go out mañana. Oy.

Today promises to be beautiful so far. It's early, 6:30 or so, and the sky is clear as the sun is coming up over the wall in my back yard. I'm going to head into the city to scout some locations.

Posted by petefredbob at 04:41 AM | Permalink

Friday morning and I'm unwinding from the last two weeks of Spanish class. Note to old people: School is just as bad, if not worse, after you've been absent for twenty years or so. Rearranging your synapses to comprehend a new language can make you dizzy, and in my case, cranky; especially when the school is full of Euro's that won't look you in the eye when you pass them. If I go back for more lessons I'll have to get a Che t-shirt to wear one day and a Bush/Cheney one to wear the next and let them figure out which is the ironic item.

I fully plan to reread all of my notes and the workbook to see if I can comprehend anything that they filled my head with, but my track record of studying schoolwork isn't so hot. We'll see. I got a sweet looking diploma though.

Got an email from somebody at "el sie7e" ('the seven') this morning saying 'Buenos Noches,' which my basic español actually tells me is incorrect; it should be 'buen[a]s noches.' Being that el sei7te is a Columbiano headbanging band, it could be for real and I'm thinking way too much. But with all the words flying around my noggin and all the spam I get, they'll have to perdoneme if I recognize them here instead of writing back. Hola guys, enjoy the crapola esta aqui. Click here for the website.

Today is another attempt to get out and take pictures of the city. My (possible) assistant has been studying English a couple of days a week for the past two years at a local college and seems to understand it pretty well, but she doesn't get much of a chance to practice speaking it here. Should be fun.

Posted by petefredbob at 07:33 AM | Permalink

Yesterday was the 'shopping' celebration of John and Cleo's daughter for her birthday. After wandering the Mall for an eternity we finally entered a department store that had more kid's clothes than I'd ever seen in one place. With brand names. Brand names, especially for kids, are a rarity in the shops here. Instead of Barbie, you get Beauty, and so on.

Presents purchased, I found what I'd been looking for for over a year. Converse All Star high-tops. The only other shoe I've wanted was a pair of Keds, which I don't think they make anymore. The laces are in and I can't wait to wear them out shooting today. I made a couple of phone calls yesterday, and with luck I'll have someone to carry some of my stuff and watch my back as I take city pictures.

In the meantime I adjusted and posted (under the flap) shots I took last week from the mountain. I don't know what mountain it was and I don't remember at the moment what the town is called, but I'll update later when I figure it out. The shots are from southeast to northwest.

One note: remember; when you do stuff to jpegs in Photoshop, make sure when they come out the other side they are still jpegs. I had to rotate and crop one pic slightly, which required I make a layer. The two resulting psd's (hi and lo res) came out to just over 50 megs and it added just a little time to my uploading last night. I caught it this morning and fixed it.

Click the link below to see the pics. Usual caution to dial-uppers and folks with screens set at 640: the lo-res shots below are mostly 1000 pixels wide, and the clickable hi-res shots are even bigger. May I suggest that if you go for the hi-res you right-click and save (or control click for Macsters), unless you've got some time.

Continue reading "Shopping and Pics" »

Posted by petefredbob at 08:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's raining and the power's out this morning. It's nice. Except that I'm roughing it with no coffee as the house is all-electric. Ah, here is the power. Excuse me; it's time to brew.

I'm getting ready (can't you tell?) for my third day of Spanish class. Having signed up for the four hour a day version, it turns out this is the maximum my poor brain can handle. I'm not used to school. The course is designed for immersion, with most of the kids also staying with local families that speak only Spanish. So far I would recommend it. Link is here.

I'm in class with one other American, a redhead from San Francisco, and our professor Carla. The beauty of this is that either one of us can stop the class in its tracks if we don't get something. Our instructor has yet to utter a word of English to us, which has led to some pretty hilarious moments of incomprehension.

Went to the mountains on Sunday to John's palace retreat and took photos. The house overlooks the valley's southeastern end and has great views. The place is quite remarkable, with two stories and a flat roof where I set up the tripod. I took half a dozen shots then switched to the big lens and the extender. About eight shots into it I noticed something in the viewfinder that shouldn't be there, and sure enough, while changing lenses something must have blown into the camera body onto the sensor.

Took a bunch of pics anyway as we walked around later and salvaged a half dozen or so. Last night I managed (I think) to blow out the offending debris and will take some test shots later after the rain to make sure. Mas manana.

Posted by petefredbob at 05:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Wandered into San Jose today to get the tripod and the store was closed. The Plaza de la Cultura was cooking with lots of folks, and it didn't make any sense that the only decent camera store in the city was giving up such potential business. I went to the Canon repair store for a wide lens, and of course, it was also closed.

In between, I knew John was wandering about centro so I gave him a call. He said to meet him at the Hotel Gran Costa Rica on the square "where the gringos hang out." He wasn’t kidding. I felt like gringo grande as I ate steak and eggs, separated from the crowd and the guys hawking Cuban cigars by a meager winding row of flower boxes. There were two bouncers to keep out the riffraff.

What I took to be an Aussie asked to use my lighter for one of the same Cubans, and at the table next to him and his date was a trio of German girls. To my left were three senior citizen Norte Americanos talking about past and present business deals, and an Asian woman was sitting alone just looking out at the crowd.

A pretty pianist was grinding out tunes from American musicals. Musicals like the Lion King and Elton John's sugar pop hit from it. I escaped before the Titanic sunk again. I wandered close to get a look at her and had the urge to save her from such a hellish fate. The look of horror on her face was about as far from the mood coming from the piano that person could get. I can just imagine the schooling and lessons and discipline that went into her development, only to be tickling saccharine crap from the ivory for snooty touristas.

But it was fun nonetheless to play the role and girl watch while I waited for John, and to practice my meager Spanish on the help. I almost got away with the whole shebang until I remembered that I didn't tell the waiter that I wanted my eggs scrambled. I didn't see mine so I flagged down another. By the time my guy got there he thought I wanted to completely change my order and I had to revert to English to straighten things out.

John came and we wound up on a little walking tour looking for the Canon store, and meandered into the back streets on the northwest side of town where the massage parlors and love hotels blend onto the neighborhood. It's good to know these things as the difference between frequenting one of these establishments and picking up a girl at the Hotel Del Rey can be well over a hundred bucks. Of course I would never dream of exercising such an option. It's just color for the book.

Posted by petefredbob at 03:51 PM | Permalink

Wednesday am, 8:30 or so. I signed up for Spanish classes yesterday for two weeks starting this Monday. They are across town in San Pedro and will be a bitch to get to every morning, but I figure it will put me back in contact with the rest of San Jose instead of just putzing around Pavas. My goal for today is to hit at least one of the camera stores in town that I found on the internet. It's still hard to find out things locally, speaking only English, especially when addresses don’t exist here, and you need to describe where you're going using landmarks that only the locals know.

I went to Escazu the other day, and I think I like it there (I like saying the word too. Try it. It's fun Ess-ka-zoo). It reminds me of some places in the US that try for just a little bit more; with hills and winding roads to drive up to get home. There is a bunch of construction going on as you ride up away from the main streets. I went to a little compound where some friends rent some small apartments and met a journalist with a crazy American accent speaking Spanish to the landlord. The landlord (born in the Belgian Congo and speaks French) told him he prefers English.

He (the journalist) is on his way up to Nicaragua to take care of some business and then on to Panama, for what I don't know. He says he's been in Latin America on and off for over thirty years. Listening to him rattle on about some ecological concerns I assumed him to be quite the lefty, so I had my fun and told him I was from the other side of the aisle. Not so fast. He spent a considerable amount of time in El Salvador and said that cured him of most of his leftism. I hope I run into him again.

Posted by petefredbob at 06:32 AM | Permalink

Saturday night and no lights on the block. This should be fun. Domo Arigato Mr. Battery.

I just returned from passable sushi with Stephania. John and I met up with Stephania today at Cleo's salon when we went to drop off the kids. She hung around with us until she was to meet her sister, Rosanne. She asked me if I knew where the embassy was and I said I'd walk her there. This 'meeting' required mucho phone calls to take place, and a similar number of delays with each call.

We walked to the embassy, then we walked to the shopping center. Then we had sushi, then we finally hunted down Rosanne in the supermarket being directed to the bread by a helpful employee as we followed her from one side of the store to the other. Bread is the item that she was initially going to the store for in the first place. She was tilted sharply over to one side to counterbalance the basket she was carrying.

It's hard to describe Costa Rican driving. I'll try again another time except to say that in pulling out of the parking space, Rosanne shifted three times. In reverse. I mentioned it to her. She was not amused.

Lights are back on.

It's fiesta night somewhere within shouting distance of my house and some nutty announcer is whipping the crowd up to some kind of salsa medley and the crowd is going nuts. If I weren't going out tonight it would be hella sleeping.

Posted by petefredbob at 08:20 PM | Permalink

Friday morning at 8 AM and the maid is here already. I wasn't ready for her. She brought her daughter instead of her crazy son Mario, which is a blessing, as I don't know if I could have remained out of my room long if he were here.

Later: AmNet, the ISP, came as soon as I wrote the above and installed the cable modem. It was the usual mess with the language thing thrown in – and they managed to disconnect the TV signal. We called them back. But, I'm online and all is right with the world. I was then checking my email and the maid took up residence right next to me and hung some sort of chemically treated wash right outside the door.

I retreated to my room with a headache for most of the day until she left. Every time I came out of the room and put down a glass of water, she grabbed the glass when I wasn't looking and washed it. She folded clothes on top of the laptop and was ready to unplug the cable modem to plug in the iron when I stopped her.

It took me an hour to reset the airport and get the wireless network running, which means I'm free from the desk, but now Marisol has guests over and this is actually the quietest place. I've uploaded some pictures a few posts down from my first day here for your viewing pleasure. Please keep in mind it was my first day with the camera and the photos are downsized mucho. Comment and I'll post larger ones.

Posted by petefredbob at 02:58 PM | Permalink

Thursday 2/24 and I'm starting to settle in after a full week. The internet should be delivered tomorrow, and I can finally post this stuff. Yesterday I got the new cell phone transferred, and got a new number to remember, which I can't seem to grasp. The original one was easy with lots of 9's and rolled right off the tongue. This one has no rhythm.

I had to go to ICE (the phone company) in San Pedro, which is on the opposite side of San Jose from Pavas, and communicate to Don Carlos (my personal phone provider) what I needed done. It halfway worked. It took two round trips and I still can't retrieve my messages. My Spanish needs work.

So far I've hung out with people who speak English enough to be thoroughly comfortable, which is nice, but it's not helping my language skills. On the other hand yesterday's all Spanish portion was taxing and required a phone call to John to figure out exactly what was going on with Carlos, and the taxi driver had to call Carlos to communicate to him that I was stuck in traffic. I'm picking out more nouns in conversations but the verbs are playing hell.

Noon

It's warm today. The warmest it's been since I've been here. Tyrannosaurus Hives. Dishes, garbage, laundry, market, writing. Reading my notes from Spain in '98. Need to buy a wireless router before internet boy arrives tomorrow.

Posted by petefredbob at 02:46 PM | Permalink

Woke up this morning and my eye felt swollen in its socket. I noticed it seeming a little dry and weird last night as I watched a movie, but wrote it off as just staying up too late and getting old. I eventually had to look at it after I told myself that it could get worse, and that would suck. (Have to mention that I'm listening to Uriah Heep's 'Demons and Wizards' that I found prominently displayed in the record bin yesterday, "There rides the Rainbow Demon, on his horse of crimson fire.' Great stuff.)

WTF? There was a bump on my eyeball. This is probably not right. Cleo came over to say 'hello' and I immediately enlisted her to find me a doctor. Thirty minutes later I'm climbing the stairs above a little bodega to the local clinic to see a nice German doctor named Iris. She spoke enough English to tell me that I have an infection and that I could look forward to my eyes burning for a week or so. Swell. So far I've used the drops once and it's only annoying. They only burned once, on the way to the supermarket afterward, but that was from a black cloud wafting my way from the exhaust of a bus.

Posted by petefredbob at 02:45 PM | Permalink

All ready to upload and no connection. John unplugged the airport and it wouldn't sync up again with the modem – or at least I thought. Plugged in directly via Ethernet – nada. Who knows when this will get posted. I got a used cell phone today, misdialed the US twice and thought I got ripped off. I got through to my own number on the third try and figured out my screw up. Still can't figure it out.

I hate Nokia phones. The menu function thing drives me nuts when I just want to dial the damn number or hang up. Forget about call waiting. I think I'm pretty technologically savvy, and I can't make the things work smoothly.

Went shopping and picked up the espresso machine, grinder, and a couple demi tasse cups with blue glass handles that look pretty cool. Espresso roasted Costa Rican beans should make for a pretty authentic cuppa in the morning.

Posted by petefredbob at 02:38 PM | Permalink

Up early this morning and now late tonight, looking to get back to a normal sleep pattern. Plugged in the airport at John's and was able to upload the first dispatch and check email, then and spent the morning shooting pictures. One word of caution: don't assume that the frozen chicken thingies in the supermarket are "fully cooked" like back in the States. Last night found me chewing what seemed like a tough nugget, which turned out to be almost raw after a few minutes in the nuker.

I resized a bunch of photos from the protest yesterday for your viewing pleasure under the flap. No internet connection for about a week until they drag their lazy asses out to hook me up, so I'll try and get to John's house once every few days or so to post.

Being a foreigner I don't rate a cell phone contract here in CR. I have to get Marisol to pick one up for me, or dig around to see if they have pre-pay. I should have a car by Monday, and then I figure out insurance. Enough blather on to the pictures! Standard warning applies to those of you who don't have broadband, they will take a bit to load. Click below.

Continue reading "Half Baked Chicken" »

Posted by petefredbob at 02:21 PM | Permalink

I slept. On the plane. There's light out there beyond the shade, I've got it cracked, no, now it's open. Typing for me is no natural ability; typing on the plane is another level of difficulty, bumpy plane, first thing in the morning before first cuppa. The iTunes play list so far, Ken Layne 'I Lose Again,' Kyu Sakamoto with 'Sukiyaki,' and Los Serafines De Valme with 'No Lo Beses En La Boca.'.

The fastest way to fly is asleep. I had almost gotten the above written and it was all "put away your stuff, we're there." No Lo Beses is up again on the juke box. It's now noon and I've just got around to this, because…wait for it..A Protest! In front of the American Embassy! I got pictures of the knuckleheads and the flags and the bored cops.

Watching the anemic protest turnout this past year for lefties of all stripes I was not surprised to see only a couple hundred people; with the inevitable Bush puppet, banners and skeleton masks. The issue ostensibly is a free trade agreement just signed or about to be signed between the US and Costa Rica. According to Marisol there was supposed to be some kind of meeting yesterday between the unions and the American Embassy staff, which was called off, thus today's event.

From what I could gather of the signs and the involvement of the unions the agreement involves agriculture. The culmination of efforts today was to deliver a letter to the Embassy whereupon a bunch of red, white and blue balloons with some kind of message attached would be released in the air. Choke a bird-save a tomato I guess. I'll be attempting to interview someone at the Embassy this afternoon and then hunt down the protest leaders.

After the letter delivery and balloon release the crowd split in two and marched off to the incoming President's house, who was called a 'puppet' of the Americans by some itinerant protestor, but whom Marisol said is foursquare against the US. We'll see. Now, a shower and a nap. Airplane sleep may make the trip go faster, but it sure ain't all that restful.

Posted by petefredbob at 09:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Wild. San Jose is an anarchic, congested, smoky, alive place. The sky is constantly moving as are the people. It was windy while I was there and the locals didn't like it, but I found it exhilarating. There is plenty of moisture in the air and an abundance of rainbows, one of which I saw spanned the entire sky in the valley end to end. It feels fertile, as if it's only waiting for new things to grow.

I ran into locals and expats, who all seem to intermingle with the tourists without effort. The taxis are ubiquitous, and everyone seems to be going somewhere. There is also a haphazard way about the place, tin shacks intermingled with hi-rises, liberally sprinkled with bars and casinos and eco-tourist retreats and bed and breakfasts.

Even though the property values are among the highest in Central America, there seem to be plenty of opportunities for new ventures and building. There is much discussion of infrastructure improvements in the press, and the government seems to be among the most stable in the region. Its neighbors Panama and Nicaragua are also growing and stable; and while the Nicas come there to work, the Panamanians come to sightsee.

It is truly a cosmopolitan city with plenty of Americans and Europeans and even Asians coming to suss-out what all the excitement is about. There's plenty of room for improvement with leftover monopolies and government cronyism, but the rule of law seems to be sticking, with two ex-presidents in the clink and new tighter restrictions on residency. Easy to get broadband and cell phones abound, and satellite TV, plenty of new cars and naturally friendly people make this an easy place for a foreigner to operate. Petty crime seems to be the major drawback, with most houses having at least large sturdy fences, and anything not nailed down disappears.

More later.

Posted by petefredbob at 11:51 AM | Permalink

In the smoking bar at the airport. Smoking. Security was a breeze. They harassed some older couple, made a woman take off her jewelry. I don't have to check my bag, so that should take some of the sting out of returning to LAX. I think I have mastered the Tica way of greeting, a quiet 'buena,' seems to do the trick with people behind a desk. This means of course that I am very early for my flight. As opposed to America though, I can go downstairs to the smoking bar with the other outcasts.

It could be crowded with 20 more people, but it's manageable at the moment. The smokeaters are pretty noisy, competing with Gwen Stephanie and the low grumble of the crowd. Light gray tile flooring, brushed stainless bar and tables with blue accents and blue walls, white ceiling with a skylight being the only light source. It's a strange atmosphere, almost reminiscent of a Sky vodka advertisement, which they curiously don’t have on display next to the other bottles on the wall.

Most of the music is a mix of old and new stuff from the States, plenty of seventies disco and funk. I spent almost exactly the amount of money that I brought with me, except for being 4 dollars short for the exit taxes: $26 to leave the country. There are funny stories hinted at about people that didn't save enough dough to get out, so I borrowed a twenty from Mari. When I return I can bring the news that they now take Visa.

I don't see a clock anywhere and I'm relying on the laptop to tell me when to go, which I hope hasn't decided to change time zones on its own since I set it to local. Just to be safe, I'll sign off now. I wouldn't mind another day here, but I would feel kind of dumb were I to blow it two days in a row.

Break

Made it. Had a passable filet mignon on the flight, with onions mixed with some cheesy sauce. They had cheesy bread too, and hot fudge and butterscotch over vanilla ice cream with nuts and whipped cream. I passed on the nuts because they served warm mixed nuts while the rest of the plane was boarding. Hot towel to wipe my craw, Bourne Supremacy on the tube, really loud music in my headphones. Almost everything a boy could want except for the only thing I want. They could have free wifi and cell phone calls and greased up ten dollar hookers cloned from Angelina Jolie and the one thing that would be on my mind at this stage of the trip would be a smoke. Only three more hours to go.

Posted by petefredbob at 11:49 AM | Permalink

Monday morning and up before the maids. I scared the bejezus out of them yesterday because I opened the door just as they knocked on it. It's 8:38 now, which means that they're eight minutes late, but I hear a knock on a door down the hall. They just asked me if I had laundry, which would have been a good question yesterday, but I'm checking out tomorrow in the morning.

Today will be call the cable company day and see what kind of speed we can get out of them. The only company allowed to provide service in Costa Rica is RACSA, which has subcontracted out work to other companies. There are as far as I can tell three levels of service. At 40 bucks a month, Jack is getting around 120kb down and 70 up; not so very speedy, especially for uploading pictures.

Marisol gave me a ride back to the hotel last night in her Range Rover, el Tank, and I wish I could accurately describe her driving--and the driving in general around here. I fancy myself a competent wheelman, but, I'm going to have to get my mind right first before I decide to strap in for a spin. The only thing that keeps the automobile mortality statistics within manageable comprehension is the fact that speeds are much slower; therefore the cars stop quicker.

Because stop they must, oft times within inches of the otherwise dented or bruised vehicle/citizen. Yet strangely I haven't been scared as a passenger yet, only by imagining myself as the driver. You have to use a mixture of confident assertion and immediate yielding at the precise moment, having to accurately determine not only who has the right of way at that particular moment, but whether or not the other guy is using the same calculation as you are.

I've invited Marisol to dinner tonight at the restaurant here at the Aurola Holiday Inn on the seventeenth floor, which is supposed to have the best view in the city. A fitting nightcap I believe for my first stay in San Jose. I didn't get to see the volcano or ride in one of those canopy contraptions in the jungle, so I feel I have to spend at least one night as a tourista.

Break

Just used my keys for the first time at the new digs. I only had a five thousand colones bill so I stood in line for change at the hotel, having decided to assert my taxi fare knowledge, and didn't want to negotiate change from the driver. Sure enough the meter wasn't running, so after a couple of blocks so I generously offered the driver two thousand for the ride. No problemo. I was also able to give directions correctly this time en Espanol, or I should say as yesterday's cabbie informed me, en Castellan.

"Aqui, por favor," and I walked up to the gate as if I owned the joint. Marisol's car wasn't there but the inside door was open and music was playing. The housekeeper Katya greeted me expectantly all smiles and I took a picture. Talk about acting like a tourista.

I dug in the fridge for liquid yesterday to find that Marisol lives like a bachelorette. Nada. Nothing. Zero. Three beers in the freezer and some not immediately identifiable frozen goods I'm figuring dates from the Paleolithic era. Speaking of ancient, all the radio I've heard here that wasn't particularly Latin has been of the oldies variety, the real oldies, and the really fucking old oldies that I heard in the casino restaurant a few days ago. Can we say the worst of the seventies anyone? I can't wait to crank up Queens of the Stone Age for the locals, followed by a little Tom Waits and Mississippi Fred McDowal. Not to mention the commie Ken Layne.

Speaking of which, eyes wide open is the response I've gotten so far about my politics. "Of course I voted for George Bush," has been my favorite declaration so far. Only one reference to Pinochet in response so far, and I'm looking forward to some lively discussions. And yes, I am going to remain unarmed while I'm here. But the people here are so lovely; Marisol has even promised not to hate me because I'm a Republican, and Jack has even forwarded to me an email containing a link to a newspaper guy who swings my way.

Break

Had to do something so I went to the hardware store to get doorknobs and hinges. Ran into minimal translation difficulties as the universal sign and sound-effect language served. Typical door-type installation problems: too much paint over the years, rusted and too small screws and just different enough hardware to make the operation sticky. I'll get a chisel and sandpaper later on to smooth things out but for now everything is working OK.

Marisol came home from the gym and is now in the kitchen with Katya fixing some grub. Missing the internet right about now. It's the perfect time for a little Drudge gossip to see what's cooking north. Are Brad and Jen still splitsville?

Break

Had a lovely siesta until 6 PM when I heard Marisol come home with el Tank from shopping. We discussed the American political system including congress, the executive and the judicial. We were heading toward how the electoral system works to begin with but I got sidetracked as usual with how the number of electors is decided and it went long. Costa Ricans were as surprised as a typical college professor when W was reelected, and they want to know why. I, your humble servant will try to undo the damage done by the 'common wisdom' in my small corner of Central America. Hopefully without doing too much damage myself.

We are heading out to dinner as soon as the lady applies the proper treatment to her visage. She looked fine as she was but resisted in the universal fashion. As with most women, I expect an entirely different creature to emerge.

Break

Guillermo Ibarra was our pianist for the evening, greeting us with 'Fly me to the Moon,' continuing through 'I Can't Live' (Bee Gees) and 'Phantom of the Opera.' I am now the proud owner of his debut CD. There was a Nicaraguan couple at another table that invited him to come play at their restaurant in Managua.

The 'USDA Cut' of filet mignon was the right piece of the cow, but I almost sprained my index finger making the first slice. However, it was tasty, and the view is the best in the city, and the service made up for any perceived shortcomings. I couldn't imagine a more perfect evening to end to a most successful trip. We went into the casino to check for whores and found the place a ghost town. Three old white guys at the bar and a woman raking in her take from a slot machine. She was almost running as she blew past us, muttering something about getting out of there before she gave it all back.

Tomorrow we'll go to one of the private banks to look into opening an account and attempt to contact the cable company for broadband service. We've been discussing wheels and I'm sorely tempted to bring Mr. 2 down the Pan American Highway. It's impractical, expensive (as I'll have to pay an import tax), lengthy, and possibly dangerous. It sounds like a good plan to me. Anybody want to take a ride? Attractive female preferred.

It's late; we'll talk tomorrow on the plane, OK? Nite.

Break

Well that didn't work. Major traffic accident on the way to the airport. I'm flying tomorrow on the same flight barring other accidents. But I got a few more pictures out of it, notably the locals constructing a way off the highway using rocks and pallets. We were probably ten minutes from using it ourselves when the traffic started moving again. Pics under the flap with the usual dial-up bandwidth warning.

Apparently Marisol (Mari from now on to save on letters-say it Marrie-try rolling the R) has a life and I'm home alone working on a few photos. I'll stop by John and Cleo's tomorrow and upload before getting on the plane. Went to a few banks and I would have to have a bunch of paperwork and establish residency in order to open an account here. This is a new law instigated by the fact that two Tico ex-presidents are currently residing in the clink, I think, for funny banking shenanigans. Mari has volunteered to launder my money for the duration through her account as long as I don't use a Nigerian bank.

Is the world the same all over or what? The cable guy didn't show up when he was supposed to. The fastest speed available hereabouts is 700 kb down-500 up for $90 a month. I've decided to go with the mid-range at $70 and 500 kb down. As it seems to take only a day to get plugged in (when they show) I'll deal with it when I get back so I can get my airport to sync with the modem before they leave.

The radio is killing me here. Eminem is on now, and I just heard a song with a chorus of "don't call me gringo you fucking beaner." Ramstein has the big song though, "We're All Living in America." This is 'not' a love song according to the lyric. As it's mostly in German Mari takes it as fun, but after listening to it, I actually think they're seriously pissed. Or at the very least, annoyed. 'Santa Claus for Africa' (like we invented Saint Nick), 'Mickey Mouse for Paris,' blah blah blah. Mari says the video is very cool visually.

[This portion deleted due to foul language, anti-German sentiment, a short discourse on the trade imbalance, the falling dollar and Pershing missiles, and references to Brazil]

Break

This is the time for a damn newspaper. 8:AM on Wednesday and I finally got the sliding doors open to the back. The house is chock-full of little age related nuisances. The jalousie windows are missing a few panes of glass (I had to replace one in my bedroom window last night to keep the wind off my back), doors need to be squared to shut properly and electrical outlets, like the one under the counter where I'm now typing on battery power, need to have electricity. Last night I adjusted the doors on the kitchen cabinets to make them align and close properly. I won't lack for distraction when I need an excuse not to write.

The coffee is so-so, mostly I think because it's only the second pot of water through the new Mr. Coffee machine Mari brought home yesterday. The second cup is better. Have I said that the weather is perfect down here? So far the sky is a pleasing hue of blue today, as it was yesterday, and the day before; broken up by clouds rolling over the mountains and providing just a touch of moisture. I am going to have to procure a real camera of sorts and a lens or two over the coming weeks.

Forgot to stir the sugar in the last cup of coffee. I hate when that happens. Today's big plans-beside trying to catch my airplane-include buying a shirt (undergarments were bought last night at the supermarket) upload this tripe to the blog, and, not much else that I can think of.

Continue reading "Ooops" »

Posted by petefredbob at 11:16 AM | Permalink

Coming up on midnight Saturday working on 3 Advil for a persistent noggin bruiser. I've got pictures to fix and post but my left eye is balking just looking at this screen. They'll wait for the morrow. I met Diego (sp?) from Argentina today who knows about as much English as I know Spanish, and Cleo is writing up sentences and words for me to memorize. I've met lots of people in the States from other countries that came with little or no English and have wondered what it must have been like. As of today I would figure it was like more than a few headaches as they tried to wrap their brains around a new language.

Dana wrote today and told me Ed has been discharged from the hospital to the care of his friend Larry. This worries me greatly, not that I don't think Larry and his family won't take good care of him, but because Ed needs serious therapy. Maybe it's best that he's with good friends; I hope they have the energy and time to deal with him.

The weather has been perfecto down here. Today had an incredibly comfortable breeze that the locals feel as cold. I could sleep outside. Speaking of sleeping, the nightly whore report: I hit the casino for my nightly Coke and came back down for my elevator. Riding the elevator up to the eighth floor was a guy that had 10 years on me with a baby all made up in stiletto heels that, maybe was 17 if she had led the life of a pampered veal calf, which I'm thinking not.

Prostitution is legal, but pimping is not, which means the girls are solo. The law however is strict on underage sex. Have sex with a minor and you go to jail for a long time. This is as it should be, but the line seems to get real blurry around here. John told me today about an 87-year-old friend of his that married an 18 year old. He showed me pictures of the Lolita like bride, who was precious, but his friend has passed to the great beyond. Now 22 at least she got the house. More manana.

Break

Went to the Amistad and checked out for good. They refunded me one day, which was 8 billion colones, or whatever. Got a few pictures ready to go for today's update, though I don't know if I will get to caption them. I've got to get one of those ez foto pages to just link to. I have a buzznet account that I've never used so maybe I should look into it, eh? But not today. I've got the keys in my pocket to my new digs, and later on tonight I'll see if any of those pictures are salvageable; though I probably won't get to post them until I get back to the States.

I'm of course counting on dumb luck here to pull this off, and it all seems too easy. The people I've met have been marvelous to the point of ridiculous (except for a cabbie or two), and as I wind this part of the journey down it almost feels unreal. I'm sitting in my new room with the wind blowing through the curtains, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood, already getting focused on the trip back. Cleo and John think it's silly of me to stay at the hotel, and now that I'm officially in the house, I think Marisol expects me to stay too. She wanted to know where my luggage was.

We had lunch at some "tropical" place, and what they put on the table was light years away from what I thought I'd ordered. But it was tasty, and they were playing marimbas. I was already shanghaied into some minor house repairs, but the hardware store was closed so I guess it will wait until February. There is apparently a church not far away; as for the second time today the bells were clanging. There was light rain in the morning and early afternoon, just enough to get your face wet, and wind dried just as soon. The clouds are high and floating now, big puffy orange and white things, heading out to the north and east.

It's almost time to go and visit John and Cleo, and upload this and the pics, so as a word of warning to dial up users: don't click to read on, it may take a while. Ciao.

Continue reading "Last One For A While" »

Posted by petefredbob at 04:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Lunch at Casa Cleo y John was again superb. Fish, salad, black beans vegetables and visitors. The two visitors were ladies from the Dominican Republic and were about as lively a pair as you could imagine. I have no idea what they were going on about, but a good time was had by all. Over to Marisol's.

Done deal. It's a big house. Three bedrooms, covered carport, nice private back yard, an office I can use, bookshelves and a maid. Three hundred bucks, which I was told was almost a hundred too much, but, el fumar no problemo, which to me is worth its weight in oro. The mistress of the house is quite a handsome woman, Marisol, and speaks enough English to get along with, though she would prefer speaking Spanish, which suits me as well.

John and the girls and I walked home while Cleo went back to the beauty shop. Along the way we were accosted by a homeless guy, who wouldn't stop following us until we stopped in a clothing store where the guards chased him away. The girls picked out a shirt for me and they made off with some new pantalones. John got some baggy skater shorts.

Back at the ranch I showed the girls some pictures from my toy days and they are insisting that I provide them with a Power Ranger helmet. They demonstrated the Ranger dance (or whatever it is the Rangers do) and took off on their cyclos. It's kick back time now, John is watching a French situation comedy and I think I'll check the email and post. Hasta.

Posted by petefredbob at 02:57 PM | Permalink

12:09AM and back at the Aurola Holiday Inn in beautiful downtown San Jose. Up to the casino again for a Coke in two plastic glasses and I just threw a thousand down on the bar and walked out. Guy got on the elevator with me just in from Salt Lake, "I'm just going to see what kinda' whores are up there." Hmm. A little cultural tourism, eh? I told him I had just seen a he/she all dolled up getting out of a taxi in front of the joint if that was his cuppa' tea. He swayed as he considered a snappy comeback but only said he wasn't thinking of buying.

He asked me if it was my first time in country, said he's been here three times already, and Costa Rica is an interesting place. This much I have gathered. I'm not often out late these days and I forget about the revelry that happens after hours. Back down to the ground floor to go up to my room on the fifth, and an American sounding girl with a group of fella's was slurring as she walked past me to the express, "I was here two hours ago and I know that elevator went all the way up." Ah to be young and confused, instead of just confused.

Tomorrow at 10:AM I have a meeting with Marisol, who for unknown reasons did not attend dinner tonight. Dinner was pasta and salad, and it was perfect. Two additional guests came by, Madame is from Canada, and Monsieur is from Belgium, the Belgian Congo, and points around the globe too numerous to mention. Anabela was there also, a lovely ebony creature local to Costa Rica that learned French in Los Angeles, California. We met earlier today at the house and is in visiting from Limon. She also speaks perfect English and the conversation ranged from French to Spanish to English fluidly with only the occasional stop for clarification.

John and Cleo's scrumptious mocha girls Kristina and Natalie were there too and there was the excitement of the big spider and cas, a native Costa Rican fruit juice that I can only describe as sweet-with the bite of a grapefruit. It may well become a favorite. We looked at photos and I took some snapshots and emailed them to John using his internet connection. For 40 bucks a month he's getting 119 down and 71 up; not blazing fast but certainly fast enough for email and blog posting. I'll be looking into that.

As I'm supposed to get across town by 10AM tomorrow, it’s time for lights out.

Break

Woke up late anyway. It's 10:45. It looks like there's a lovely breeze blowing outside and I wish the window would open. I'm going to try for some steamed milk downstairs for the coffee.

That was much easier than yesterday, as the same guy was there to help the hostess along in her 'wtf do you want gringo?' predicament. Plus, I interrupted a muy importante conversation she was having Espaniol with the female companion of another gringo guest. Anyway, it looks like a tip is in store for the milkman.

Speaking of tips, John has encouraged me not to tip too much, as it makes the local gringos look chintzy. I don't agree, though I may not tell him this right away. I think that if someone goes a step above the other guy/gal, they should be rewarded in some fashion. B.F. Skinner was a little crazy, but he had a lot right about shaping behavior.

Traffico outside the window looks light compared to the last couple of days, which should mean an easier ride across town. It being Sabato and all I'm guessing the city folks have exited the mean streets for greener pastures. I can't wait to come back next month so I can go hunt the eco tourists out in the jungle. If I have time later I'll post the 'I'm sorry' letter from the Tico Times and my response to it. As for now I should suck down the rest of my coffee and get over to Pavas.

Break

Posted by petefredbob at 12:58 PM | Permalink

This is the first time I've had access online since coming in country-Welcome to Costa Rica!

Below is unedited and is posted as is because, well because. The first entry is from the plane. Hasta.

The sun's up and it's 4:23 AM my time, 6:23 AM local, and about 30-40 minutes to touchdown. I took a bunch of pictures out the window that I'll dick around with in Photoshop to see if they can fly. I'm not getting a good lay of the land because of cloud cover and the angle of the sun, and it's annoying. Or maybe that's just the nicotine withdrawal talking. The clouds broke and I just had a glimpse of the isthmus, it doesn't look all that wide at this point. Now it's thickening up again and we're flying inland.

Break

The ride in was brutal. One doesn't need to smoke cigarettes to get a dose of lung filling toxins. Here in the Hotel La Amistad, the wireless isn't working at the moment. I get a signal, but no connection. No sleep on the plane so I'm going down now; after I finish a cuppa' joe. Even with the powdered creamer it's obvious that this town grows its own coffee, even if one didn't see the plantations on the way to Centro. I took a pile of pictures. If we get the connection going before I check out in a week, I'll upload them. Of course, if you're reading this I've got a connection already. Buenas Noches.

Break

Well that was bracing. I just wandered about town trying to find a Super Mercado, for three hours-with directions. Traffic is fun down here, and everyone seems to know the rules, except for the biker down on the way to the hotel, and the hospitals seem to be incredibly popular places, with lines of taxis and buses and crowds as big as those that gather around the county jail in Santa Ana (CA). I did eventually find a market though, and got a pretty good roundabout view of the city.

The night flight screwed up my sense of time. The laptop says 2:30, which means it should be 3:30 here, or maybe 4:30, as I can't seem to remember what time zone I'm in; and the clock on the microwave says 6:43, which actually feels right-which is probably wrong. The money thing is already funny. At the supermarket it was simple, ignore the girl and read the display on the register. Other transactions are sketchier.

The Otoyo neighborhood sits atop a bit of a hill, which was fine going down, but on the way up required agua. I had swapped $80 for 36,000 colons at the hotel, which hasn't really sunk in yet. The bottle of agua (the woman smiled as I attempted the word) cost uno at the little street stall. Uno what? I displayed the cash I had which seemed to confuse them. I finally got her to take a thousand colon bill, and it seemed the deal was over, until they chased me down the street.

She started digging through the cash drawer for change and I suddenly felt the weight of all the coins in my pocket that I had acquired from the hotel and market. I produced a handful, which brought smiles all about, and some shaking of heads and rolled eyes. Stupid American. Hey, I represent dude. Viva la Bush!

I walked right by some kind of demonstration downtown on the main boulevard earlier. In the main plaza a crowd had gathered and was hurling insults of some sort at a beleaguered official while some gendarmes looked on-just a little twitchy. I was about twenty feet from the main action and had to split the crowd to get through, but when I returned about twenty minutes later all were dispersed.

The town is lousy with Germans and other Euros. After two solid minutes I can't find something to write after that statement, so I'll let it stand all by itself for your pondering pleasure.

Not now either, so it's off for food.

Break

OK,