My Costa Rica - Excerpts from my journal of the year 2002...
January 30, 2002, 6:00 a.m. Life in the jungle is good. I am laying on the hammock and listening to the birds wake up (also the killer bees humming). Frank is sleeping. He has a cold. Wally (a long-time friend of ours and world traveler) gave it to him. He arrived with George (pronounced whore-hay in Spanish) from Estrada yesterday. George brought him right to our doorstep. We knew he was in Costa Rica (emails) but couldn't believe it when he showed up at the house! I mean, after all, this isn't the easiest place to get to. Requires a puddle jumper plane, taxi, van, or bus trip from San Jose which is 5 ½ hours away by car. Much of this is over and across steep, volcanic mountains, rolling hills, sleepy little villages, and long, lonely roads tiny enough to send the heart racing when passing trucks on the corners. Some of the drop offs are thousands of feet down and edge right up to the sides of the unprotected sides of the curvy roads.
Then there's finding a ride from Playa Carrillo to Estrada, another three or four miles down a tiny, dirt road shared by teams of oxen (led by handsome, brown men atop handmade, undecorated, wooden carts), schoolchildren (walking in their immaculately cleaned, white linen shirts and skirts, shorts, or pants that make up their uniforms), strutting roosters, herds of cattle being taken to distant fields, men on horseback, tourists racing along in rented cars, people walking to work, iguanas, and the occasional large boa constricter.
Apparently he hitchhiked and got a ride with our friend.
It's not like everyone didn't know who we were by then. We had bought the land a few years before and the village people knew we were building a tiny cabin, a boat, and a business down along the river Rio Ora. With a beautiful, charming, small resort just around the corner (El Sueno Tropical), we felt this was a great location to start a guided nature tour business for visiting bird watchers, nature lovers, and tourists. Our plan was to build a boat big enough to accommodate up to four people in addition to us and row them the mile and a half down the calm Rio Ora to the breathtakingly beautiful surf pounding beach at Camaronal (now a national wildlife site). Along the way we'd point out the congo monkeys and the myriad of amazing, exotic birds and butterflies on the riverbanks. Sometimes there were cattle grazing on the edges of the river. Sometimes horses. Almost always there were monkeys.
Our friend Wally pitched his tent down in the sand near the river on our land (under the spinas – the pretty, dark green trees that reminded me of a pine forest in Maine but had spikes that looked like big darning needles). He has already fallen in love with a Tica girl (a girl from Costa Rica) and is looking to buy land in Estrada. Not sure if he actually has any money or not but he is having fun.
Costa Rican girls adore their men and, in my opinion, would make the lovliest of wives. Many are content to raise the children and take care of their men, making the home the center of the family immediate and extended. They are intelligent, witty, curious, and talented and make absolutely charming hostesses. Those that choose to continue schooling and go into a career leave their beloved children in the care of grandmothers, aunts, siblings, and cousins. Many women are politically active in Costa Rica both locally and nationally, and the woman's opinion in the households is, by and large, revered, respected, and considered in all the family decisions. They take good care of themselves and maintain their slim figures. Well dressed older women in Nicoya turn the heads of even the youngest admirers (who gallantly open doors for them, offer seats on the bus, or step into the street to let them pass on narrow sidewalks). Women here are a treasure and, though humble, they know it.
I have been trying to straighten out paperwork. Paid the marcharmos (a yearly vehicle registration fee) yesterday by depositing over $100 into Romulo's account (our San Jose lawyer). Can only hope he actually pays it for us and sends the receipt. I am still waiting for the official truck papers from his office from over a year ago. The incorporation papers for the house were not in my P.O. Box yesterday either. We can't drive the truck legally until I get all this done.
Gave the local police a donation of 40,000 colones (about $100) a week ago and also took up a pan of homemade cinnamon rolls. Hope that will get us by for short trips to the store (CheChe's and Mirta's) for ice without fear of a ticket for driving an illegal vehicle.
William from El Yate gave me a ride to Nicoya (he had to go anyway) . The bus is less than a buck but it takes ALL day to get there and the back. The taxi is very expensive from what I hear.
I want to go to the beach today (preferably Punta Roble for shells) but since Frank is sick not sure if I'll get to or not. Some guys were LIVING at Roble the other day when we took Wally over there. Looked like four Costa Ricans with mattresses, etc. Don't think I'll go there alone anymore. Well, more later. It's chilly this morning.