Driving on Your Own in Costa Rica


We left Rio Perdido with several of our fellow tour travelers, were dropped off at the Liberia airport, went down the road, and picked up our rental vehicle, a brand new roomy SUV. We stopped at an outdoor restaurant–in most of Costa Rica the restaurants are outdoors with only a roof. Much to my delight they had my favorite Costa Rican beverage, cas, which seems to be served randomly here and there. I love the stuff–pale green, neither sweet nor sour, a type of guava.

We headed down Highway 21 toward Santa Cruz. This is cattle and sugar cane country with miles of lush green pastures along the way.

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Throughout the countryside living fences delineate one pasture or field from another.  Initially, when first built, they look like any other fence posts.  The difference is this:  they grow into trees.

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Looking at these photos, it seems hard to believe that we were there in the dry season.  Costa Rica is easy driving with good highways, speed limits, and very little of the mad, crazy driving one experiences in many countries.

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Even this far from the mountains, look to the east, and there they are under a canopy of clouds.  After arriving in Santa Cruz, we turned off onto a smaller highway (160) headed toward the tiny town of Paraiso where we had a near hotel disaster.  In September, I booked a hotel farther south on the Pacific Coast only to be notified one month before leaving that a mistake had been made and they had no room available.  Desperately I searched and searched and found one near Playa Negra.  Online it looked ok, not luxurious but ok.

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It even looked nice from the outside as you can see above.  Since there was no restaurant onsite, we headed out for dinner.  We had already passed through the little town and had seen several places.

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Here we ate some of the best pizza I have ever eaten.  When the waiter asked where we were staying, we told him.  At the time we never thought too much about his rather gloomy, “Oh!”

We went to the tiny local grocery down the road and bought food, shampoo, coffee, enough to tide us over for three days, and returned to our room.  The owners, a French couple, initially seemed ok.  Certainly, the woman did.  She had successfully started the air conditioner, welcomed us, was friendly.  His English was questionable, we do not speak French, and he refused to speak Spanish.  Unfortunately upon our return, the air conditioner no longer worked, there were no windows on one side for a breeze, and little ants were biting quite actively.  I went to talk to the couple.  He was not only uncooperative but eventually started screaming at my daughter, “Get out, just leave!” over and over and over.  He refunded my money; we left.

Here we were in the dark with nowhere to go.  I had visions of spending the night in the SUV, thinking at least we have a really nice vehicle to sleep in if we have to.  My daughter kept saying we would find something.  She had noticed a place down the road.  I kept thinking there would be no place because this is top tourist season.  We headed down the unpaved road, drove down a drive that indicated a hotel, and stopped by the reception area.  I went in but no one was there.  When I walked back out, my daughter noticed a young man walking up the drive.  Thankfully, I know enough Spanish to explain to him what we needed–he did not speak English.  I could not believe the good news:  they had a room for two nights (we needed three, but at that point who cared).  His key to the room did not work, he called the manager who appeared, let us in the room, and actually told me not to worry, I could pay the next morning.  It was the largest, nicest room of the entire trip.  Just wait for the next post to see how incredibly beautiful this place truly is–talk about luck, good karma…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Costa Rican Adventure-Day One


Instead of staying in the US for Christmas, my daughter, grandson, and I went to Costa Rica on a National Geographic Family Adventure for seven days and then rented a car and explored on our own for three additional days.  We arrived in San Jose a little after three in the afternoon, met the other tour members and our two guides, Jose and Josie, and headed for our first hotel, the Intercontinental.

Because the capital, San Jose, is at an altitude between 6 and 7 thousand feet, it is cool.  On the day of our arrival it was also very windy which made the air seem quite chilly.  Altitude and whether you are on the Pacific or Caribbean side are everything in Costa Rica.  High elevations are quite cool, lower elevations tropical and hot.  The Pacific side is drier, especially in the north.  The Caribbean is always wet and rainy especially in the north so the two sides are just the opposite weather wise.  Down the middle runs the cordillera, the mountains, which determine many aspects of the weather.

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On the road to San Jose from the airport.  I know it says San Jose when you make reservations but the airport is not actually in San Jose or even in the same province.

The last time I was in Costa Rica it was summer here and the rainy season there–winter.  In much of the country even though it supposedly was the dry season, it did not seem very dry.  Look at those clouds.

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At the Intercontinental, a large, rather elegant hotel with multiple restaurants and shops, my grandson wanted to buy a plushy sloth in one of the shops.  We convinced him to wait.  The next day we found it nearly 50% less in a shop at El Mercado.

The food we had at the hotel, however, was excellent, the ceviche especially tasty.

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I was quite entranced by this bench, carved out of old wood.  It is illegal in Costa Rica to harvest certain woods considered rare and/or endangered.  This includes rosewood and mahogany.  If you find pieces made from these rarer woods, it is old wood from dead trees or at least that is what it is supposed to be.  You can find beautifully made wood furniture in various parts of the country.

We spent only one night and the next morning through lunch in San Jose.

 

 

 

 

Sunday Haiku


Mourning doves call at dawn

haunting echoes

I turn, drifting back to dreams.

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Note:  today is my birthday.  Spent the day at a soccer tournament in Midland/Odessa watching my grandson play club soccer.  Returned home to find, at last count, 82 birthday wishes on Facebook, greetings from all but two continents.  Feeling grateful.

My Ethiopian Adventure–Final Days


It took me a while to post this because I did not want the adventure to end.  Of course, it will never end in my heart and mind.  Nevertheless, this last post about my three week adventure brings a feeling of termination I have apparently attempted to avoid.  I spent the last few days of my trip, staying with my friend’s parents in Adama.  They took me on the wonderful adventure described in my last Ethiopian post, the day trip to Awash National Park.  Later, we went shopping for gold, silver, and textiles, ate, wandered around, visited, relaxed.  We listened to the Muslim call to prayer and the Ethiopian Orthodox chanting.  One day I heard another voice over the loud speakers and asked, “What is this one?”  The Pentecostals competing–three types of churches all on loud speakers, calling people to worship.  Because at least two of them start before dawn, it kept my friends up.  By this time in the trip, I had earned to sleep through it all.

I like the climate in Adama, especially after being cold for most of the first half of the trip.  It seemed I could put on multiple layers and still shiver.  Adama is nice and warm, hot, but not too hot.  Flowers and tropical fruits thrive as in the photos below–my friend’s mother’s lush garden and her elegant table.

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The plates are an Ethiopian design apparently only available there–Ethiopian figures in a circle. Even breakfast is a work of art.

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The neighbor’s grape arbor amazed me.  I have never seen anything like it.

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Zoning remains unheard of here.  Next to a new, well built, modern house where one or two families may live is a place like this or the one on the other side of my friend’s parents’ house where both cows and no one knew exactly how many people live.

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In the dark space in the middle of the above photo live two cows–if they have not been slaughtered by now.  From this vantage point I could see a minaret, a modern wind farm on the far hill, cows, goats, an empty lot, a luxurious looking house being built on the other side of this adjoining lot, everything from the most modern to the ancient.  Every bedroom possessed its own little patio.  The photo below shows the view from mine.

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So we would not have to make a mad rush to get me to the airport through Addis traffic, we went back to Addis the day before my flight out.  I took a few photos from the front of the Addis airport before I left.

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Due to the kindness of a complete stranger, I made my flight.  When I was about to go through the passport line, I discovered I had my friend’s passport which meant she had mine.  In Bahir Dahr, we had to show our passports to the hotel before getting keys for our rooms.  Apparently, the young man switched them when he gave them back to us.  We took them and put them away without looking.  My phone did not work in Ethiopia.  I experienced a major panic.  I had my Ethiopian friend’s phone number but no phone.  I explained to the guy checking passports the problem.  The man standing in line next to me heard and offered his phone.  He actually got out of line to help me.  I did not recognize his accent and have no idea his country.  He called the number for me.  The call failed to go through.  He waited, tried again.  Eventually, it all worked out and I made my flight, all due to this man’s patience and kindness.  When I finally made it inside the airport, several people who had heard the problem actually came up to me and told me they were worried I might not make it.  I knew none of them; yet they cared.

With a six hour layover in Dubai, I had a lot of time to wander, drink coffee, explore the airport, which is huge, really huge.  I bought some perfume–Muslim perfume with no alcohol in it.  I like it so much, I will have to figure out how and where to order it when it runs out.  Many of this airport’s shops are opulent.  People stood in line to buy gold, high end cosmetics, designer everything.  It is cosmopolitan, clean, efficient, fancy, welcoming.

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In this airport, I saw one of the women who was relieved to see me inside the airport at Addis after my passport scare.  She unfortunately experienced a frightening incident during the flight and they had to give her oxygen.  We chatted, she seemed fine finally.  As I write this, what do I remember most of those last 36 hours of the trip:  the kindness and concern of total strangers.

 

Christmas Reflections


IMG_1347 Two years ago I expected to spend Christmas alone–too much snow.  Friends and family came anyway.  We ate, sang, laughed.  They did not tell me for two weeks how it took them two hours to negotiate my long drive to the main road.  No snow this year, not here–prediction remains 60 degrees F.  Now these friends are far away:  Europe, Mexico.  My daughter and grandson will be here; we will miss my son.

Beauty lies outside the windows

and in my heart.

Food fills the refrigerator.

Homemade bread lays on the counter, ready.

Music rings from CDs.

Christianity is not required to celebrate:

Joy

Kindness

Giving

Receiving

Empathy

Acceptance

Friends

Family

Love

Joy!

Gratitude


Usually, I plan my posts, write them out carefully, sometimes even proof a couple of times.  Today is Thanksgiving Day here in the United States.  Even though I know all about the historical lies to cover up the truth about the supposed original Thanksgiving, I continue to think this is a useful and fun holiday for several reasons.  Thankfulness, gratitude, remains the primary source of a happy life.  The list of things for which I am thankful seems nearly endless:

-health

-living in a place filled with natural beauty

-my daughter

-my grandson

-my son, even though we talk only occasionally and he lives far away

-teaching

-my students, one of whom posted on Facebook this morning that he is grateful that he had me as a teacher ten years ago

-the friends who took me with them to Ethiopia this past summer

-all my other friends locally and from all over the world

-the exchange students who have lived with me and from whom I receive messages regularly

-my parents for whom I owe eternal gratitude for teaching me values, independence, tolerance, a love of beauty and knowledge, and a sense of wonder

-music

-my ability to sing

-horses

-wildlife, nature–here where I am so fortunate to live

-art

-my ability to write

-all the people who love my book of poetry and tell me they do–I might also include the people, mostly men, who find it shocking

-happiness and the choice I made to be happy all those long years ago

-red wine

-plentiful food

I could go on and on.  However, it seems best to end with this fantabulous morning on my own little rim of wonder and say I am thankful for a life filled with so many astonishing events and experiences I never expected and for which I am endlessly grateful.

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My Dad–In Memory


Today in the United States is Father’s Day.  As I drove home from Dallas through the green countryside, I noticed a few places looked like the landscape in Northwest Missouri where I grew up.  My great grandfather from Switzerland homesteaded there in the 1800’s.  My dad lived on that farm all of his ninety years.  A year ago in June, I went back for a long weekend, visited the land I still have on the home place and drove to Rulo, Nebraska, where we used to go eat catfish and carp.  The last flood nearly demolished the place where we went.  Driving along, I reflected on the scenes I saw there last summer.

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This is the house where I grew up and the building in the foreground my dad built long before he married my mom and I was born.  During the Depression, when it was new, he occasionally held dances there and the sheriff stayed to make sure there was no moonshine. My dad lived in this house 80 of his 90 years.

The following is a poem I wrote about Dad after my visit there last summer.  There used to be a lake behind the house with a large grove of burr oak trees surrounding it.  The lake is still there but the beautiful trees are gone except for one lone tree, the rest bulldozed down.  This poem is in my collection of poetry, On the Rim of Wonder.

 

My Father

He watches:

The house where he was born

gone

Only the old carriage house stands.

The young man who farms the land cannot bear to tear it down.

He watches:

The ancient burr oaks and black walnuts

gone

bulldozed into waste piles or sold for greed.

He watches:

The house he lived and loved in for eighty years

still stands on land his family owned more than 150 years.

Strangers live there.

He sees the well trimmed lawn,

new picket fence

children playing.

He watches:

The pond he proudly built and stocked with fish reflects the summer sun.

The tree filled park between the pond and house

gone

He wonders why someone would destroy such beauty.

He watches:

The walnut grove where he ran cattle

gone

The pond where his grandson caught the giant turtle

gone

plowed over and planted in corn and soybeans.

He watches.

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The old carriage house.

Family Road Trip–Day Four


No rushing around this morning.  We wanted to stop by Old Towne, stroll around, and have lunch.  We doubted shops would open before ten.  After all the rain, everything sparkled in the morning sun.  We found a parking space–often extremely difficult to find there–on the west side of the church by the square and headed east in front of the church.  Because it was early or because of the rain earlier, it seemed much less hectic than usual.  We chatted with shop keepers, bargained, wandered.  My grandson announced he was very hungry so we sat outside at the Hacienda (I think that is the name of the restaurant we go to near the square–we just go and never pay attention to its name).  All I wanted was fry bread.  First, I dipped it in the salsa then switched to honey.  After this relaxing leisurely lunch, we finished our walk around the square and headed to Astro Zombie in Nob Hill.  I think my grandson could go there every day.

 

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Arrived home, fed Rosie, unpacked, and checked for water damage.  It rained almost 4 1/2 inches while we were gone.  That averages almost an inch a day for the last five days.  The weather forecasters predict possibilities for rain the rest of the week.  Some people in low lying areas of Amarillo experienced flooding in their homes.  That is what occurs when developers fill in playas and build houses there.  But that is another blog post for another day.

My daughter called to read me my grandson’s second blog post.  He asked me last night while we lounged at the hotel to help him start a blog.  He posted his first post last night.

Waking up for work will come sooner than I want.  Happy dreams!!

Family Road Trip–Day Three


Today we awakened earlier that we usually do on vacation in order to get to the train station in downtown Albuquerque to take the Rail Runner to Santa Fe.  Apparently, we worried too much about missing it because we arrived really too early and sat around for more than 45 minutes waiting and watching.  I walked around and took several photos of my grandson waiting and of one of the numerous murals one sees in downtown.

 

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I was surprised by the number of people using this train.  It takes one and one half hours to get from downtown Albuquerque to Santa Fe depot because there are quite a few stops on the way including one at Sandia Pueblo and another at Kewa Pueblo.  Photos are forbidden while traveling through Kewa.  The route basically follows the Rio Grande Valley.

I took a few photos from the train and several in Santa Fe.  Good friends, Dino and Zuriash, were already in Santa Fe and picked us up at the depot.  We went to the Chocolate Maven for brunch–my daughter totally loves this restaurant because they have crepes.  We walked around the art exhibits by the church near the square, stopped in a few shops, and just before the return trip on the train, went to Jalapeños for drinks.  A wonderful day with family and friends and a little train trip, my grandson’s first.

 

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My Happy Mother’s Day


 

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Mother’s Day filled my heart.  First, when I awakened in the morning, I made coffee and opened this computer.  When I logged into Facebook, I found this pronouncement from my daughter:

“I’m so thankful to have an amazing, talented, smart, ambitious, honest woman as my mommy.  You made me the person I am today and as I continue to grow, I see things you taught me passing down to my son.  I’m the mom I am today because of the mom you were to me.  I may not always show it or tell you but I love you so much.”  I nearly cried; I am not a crier.

The flowers arrived Saturday from my son who lives twenty hours away if you drive.  Look at these flowers!!  Fantastic.

Then my grandson gave me a handmade card about 5 by 8 inches with this long note some of which follows:

“Happy Mother’s Day.  I know your not my mom but your my mom’s mom so your a mother so happy mother’s day.  Thank you for giving birth to my mom because if you wouldn’t have, I wouldn’t be alive right now so thanks….Thank you for all the things you do for me.  You always watch me.  Your always nice even when I’m mean and you spoil me.  I love you and happy mother’s day. ”  He is ten.

Then today I received a totally unexpected thank you card with a note from a young man who stayed with me a while last spring just before he graduated from college with an A average.  He was experiencing an extremely painful time then.  His hand written note:  “Happy Mother’s Day!  It has been one year since I graduated from college.  I would never have made it without you!  Thank you for the great help in my most difficult time.  You are the small ray of sunshine that really brings me hope!  Thank you!”  I felt overwhelmed.

The bottle in front of the flowers above is Versace perfume–Mother’s Day present from my daughter.