Car Passed Riteve and Beers

The Galloper beast was denied inspection yesterday but was returned to me this morning, overhauled and passing, for a mere $800. I cannot tell if this is a viable vehicle, but I do love driving the heap! I took this photo of my neighbor's alemandas and hope that the vines I have planted around my carport are the same; they have been there for almost a year and nary a flower has blossomed! Here's hoping for later in the summer!

The colibri have returned in full force, twittering and zipping around the feeder morning and night.

Because not much has happened while I've been waiting for the Galloper to come on home, I am going to address the local beer issue. Imperial is the local, practically national beer. The logo is excellent, and I've been drinking Imperial Silver, which the ex-pats around here call Tico Corona - light and lovely.

However, I ventured into the Nicaraguan beers and love Tona, which again is light and refreshing, not overly carbonated or hoppy.

BUT I stumbled across something called Rock Golden Monkey, and remembering Victory's Golden Monkey that made me fall asleep, I bought one to try. It tastes a little like cider, sweet, fruity and bubbly; it's peculiar to put it in the beer category, but it is a sugary treat. Today I drove into Jaco with my friends and bought one Tona and one GM; I already have plenty of Imperial Silver. For a "one and done" gal, I certainly am prepared!

Until 5:00, cheers!

Nicoya with Nani

I drove my Galloper over to Puntarenas yesterday, just making the 9:00 ferry to Naranjo from where we drove down to the southern rim of the peninsula on what I didn't realize was the worst, pitted, rocky, swervy, steep, dirt road EVER! We drove and drove, sister Nani patiently sitting shotgun and clinging to her seat as I inadvertently hurled her from side to side as I slammed through potholes, climbed and dropped over hills and valleys and veered right and left as I tried to steer away from any oncoming cars while trying to make time on our rushed tour of the peninsula. We were both starving and cranky, so as soon as we hit a paved road in Paquera, where the other ferry goes, we stopped to eat some lunch at a little soda/house that had several tables with table clothes that looked promising. The man of the house came out and talked to us about his fishing business, telling us he had fresh red snapper or shrimp rice. I took the "fresh" fish, and Nani opted for the shrimp rice. The fish was breaded and fried, tough and tasteless, but Nani's rice was yum, so I helped her out. She eats like a bird.

After lunch, we decided to drive as far as we could, thinking/hoping we could get up around Samara, but no such luck; we made it to Montezuma, again hitting the deep ruts, twisted turns, and pitted hills of the dirt road; however, once we arrived and scoped out all the dredlocked inhabitants, we were relieved to find Amor de Mer a few meters outside the main drag, and we got a room overlooking the sea. This was the first vista from the hotel.

I was a little grumpy and so went to lie in one of the many hammocks strung up among the trees and photographed this fellow who was mooching around in the rocks. After reading and sitting awhile, I found Nani, and we walked into town to check out the dinner options, passing on our way the tables of handmade jewelry and geegaws that hippies and surfers seem to sell to stay afloat.

This bus was plunked on the land in front of a restaurant and hotel and gives a little feel of the place. We bought a beer each and realized that it seemed to be the law of the land that one drank beer as one walked around; off came the lids, popped went my Nicaraguan latest favorite beer, and we wandered around, heading back toward the hotel. I knew when I tried to clamber over the rocks that I had drunk my beer way too fast. I slipped, crashed down into a rushing rivulet from the rushing tide, scratched up my knee but

found my way up to the big lawn of the hotel. It would have been better to have my picture here, but one of sister Nan with her open Corona speaks volumes. We settled into two uncomfortable chairs and watched this elegant heron for awhile, read, went upstairs and decided it was time for dinner. Probably I decided it was time for dinner because my druther is always before dark.

As we traipsed back down the dirt road to the town, we heard some dreadful sounds from the surrounding forests, and a family of Swedish blondes told us that it was the giant monkeys - we supposed the Howlers. The woman warned us not to get too close to them as they were likely to throw their shit at us if they got scared. We didn't have to worry as they never materialized, but I heard the howling again the next morning.

We rose at the crack of dawn, struggling to sleep through the torrential rains, cracking lightning and crashing thunder throughout the night. When we left in the morning, I snagged a quick shot of the lawn leading down to the water at the back of our hotel; this was our view from the room. It was a splendid little place, but I think it will be a long time until I return to Montezuma.

Rise n' Shine!

This morning was a walking morning at about 5:30, and the sun was just coming up, as I walked along the beach and then along the path in front of the beach houses. I ran into my friend Bob who was clearing out the shrub and old palm branches on the beach; we chatted about his orchids - one of which is the same as the one I brought back from my dad's tree in Florida. It bloomed for three years, but then just fizzled out; Bob showed me where I could find more of them and said he would snip a little segment for me so that I can try them down here where the climate is probably kinder and gentler for orchids. The walk up to the inlet was peaceful, the tide out so far that the water was still, reflecting the sunrise as though it were a mirror.

Nani and I just hung around all day after hanging out the laundry and discovering that the hot water heater had blown up in my laundry room. I mopped and tried to dry it all up, turned off the hot water and learned that fixing the damn thing would cost about $300. Ah, life in CR...

That Waterfall Again

We got lost as usual, but finally we walked through the cow pasture, through the creek and made it to the subdued falls; there has been little rainfall, so the the waterfall was more like a shower. We crawled up the rocks and swam in the first pool to cool off. For the first time ever,I made it back from the waterfall before dark, at which time we cracked a beer and began to plan the trip to the Nicoya for Monday.

Sister Nani does Costa Rica

Sipping first at the Britt Coffee Plantation, Nani joined the guides on stage for a tasting demonstration of their CR coffees; here she stirs and slurps, and she did it quite well, I might add.

We drove down from Belen to Bejuco, stopping at the Tarcoles bridge to check out the crocodiles, and it must have been nap time because they were all lying still at the top of the river, alert but motionless. They looked almost innocent.

Yesterday we drove down to Manuel Antonio and took a steep, sweaty hike through the park but saw no animals to speak of other than several agoutis. As we left, it began to rain, but we drove up and up and up to Ronny's, a little restaurant overlooking the sea and the mountains and the world, where we then drank the most magnificent sangrias. Right in the midst of our savoring the splendor of our hibiscus decorated drinks, we felt the whole place begin to shake. There was a small commotion among the few people in the open dining room, and after the tremors stopped, we realized that it had been an earthquake. I think it was Nani's first, but I had so enhanced my experience with my overly fruity and sweet sangria that I didn't really notice the earthquake - 5.9 on the richter scale.

This was the view once the sun worked its way through the clouds...

The Non-Tsunami: Relief and Disappointment

The anticipation and anxiety today were palpable, televisions blaring, people congregating in the street, and all comparing the latest updates on the time/strength of the tsunami to come. The footage of the earthquake in Japan was so fierce that I was frightened of possibilities I couldn't even fathom. I remembered the first time I felt a 6.5 quake here last summer, and I was SURE the sky was falling, to quote my old friend the hen - wasn't it a hen?

Oonie told me to go to "high ground," and the thing was "scheduled" for 4:00 PM, so I drove to a high cliff about 20 minutes from here to watch and to be safe, leaving all my windows open, computer running, and other such supid things. When I got there, the ocean was calm, the sun moving into that golden time, dripping into the foliage and turning banana leaves and grass a lime green; the sky was a dark blue-gray.

I watched a woman poking around in the rocks below and wanted to shout to her, but already the passengers in oncoming traffic were shouting as they passed, "Tsunami!" or "Here is comes!" I decided to leave her alone, but then the atmosphere became festive with more cars arriving, kids and dogs romping, and one fellow who owned a little hotel said that there were about 100 people down on the beach: surfers, waters, tourists. His son, at this point riding up on his shoulders, said, "No, it was only about 90 people." Suffice it to say, the beach was packed, and I began to feel less concerned.

When it started getting on for 5:00 most of us pulled out of the lot above the cliff and drove our separate ways, but the roads were crowded with people on bikes, clusters of people chatting and cars seeming to be in a hurry, as I was. It was time for my final Costa Rican cerveza until May. I will try to get that car up over the mountains tomorrow morning. I have had every orifice filled with fluids of one sort or another: break, steering, windshield washer, coolant and oil. The REAL thrill was the having the mechanic spray the "belts" so they wouldn't squeak! Who knew?

Another adventure tomorrow.

I've been remiss...

With only one wee week down here, I feel as though I've done nothing but pay bills, shop for groceries, get the car checked, read and run, which really is quite a good amount when I think about it. I've painted only one painting and not a very good one at that, but here is where I sit and eat my yogurt and fruits and coffee in the mornings. The sound of the cicadas is a killer, and they seem to be screaming at me day and night, but then it is that time of year, which is amusing because we are just now coming into spring at home, and down here I am listening to the last of summer before the rains begin.

It is the first day of Lent AND the Day of Woman - Lisa says it's always March 8 - certainly a day I'd never know to celebrate! Imagine all those wasted days of potential fiestas! This little critter hopped into my house while I was painting, and he really seemed to want to stay, so I gave him a magazine to read - so like Mrs. Prothero - and then had to move him gently out the door; one can sleep with a dog on one's bed, but NOT a frog!

Yesterday I saw this ginormous bug with a rhinosceros horn. He was on my neighbor's tree and apparently had been living on their porch for the past two years. Go figure. He or she was most peculiar, and I wondered if we lived elsewhere if this bug would be some exquisite gustatory delicacy. I'm glad I'm here and not there, wherever it may be!

This is the only painting I've done, and I cannot say that it "happifies" me; in fact, I had to do it quickly because the mango on the bottom of the bowl and the bananas were so ripe that I had to gobble them up before they went bad. Ah, life is so rough down here during mango season!

I'm trying to load a photo of a sloth smiling at my friend who rescued it from floundering around on its back; when Greg put it back into the tree, the creature turned around and flashed him the most wonderful smile. The photo is beguiling beyond belief, but I cannot get it loaded up here. More later. Over and out for now if anybody still reads this...