Lil's 70-ish

The girls came from all over – Spain, Argentina, beach, town and country – to celebrate Lili Hale’s birthday in Escazu. A force to be reckoned with – larger than life – Auntie Mame - and so much more, lives within our dearest Lil. She is beautiful, yes, with sparkling eyes often flashing with mischief. She always knows what you are about. And if she doesn’t know, she wants to know! Lili loves all her children, and yes Lil, all your children love you!
You adopted me as one of your daughters 10 years ago. I’ve been more wayward and negligent than the others. I don’t phone you enough and have never show up to the bridge table, where we could so much more easily catch up with each other. But we never miss coming together for your birthday!

This year, you’ve invited a big bunch of admiring friends to dine with you today – close sisters all – Rosemary, Robin, Roni and Bonny – and other absent sisters in Atlanta and elsewhere, sending you congratulations . You touch so many lives! Who can forget the lovely Miss January in the SASY Calendar – Stop Animal Suffering Yes! So many beautiful animal lovers -– but the number one beauty who nobody shall ever forget is our own, dearest Lili at the piano – “If music be the food of love, play on”…
You had that picture with you in the hospital when you scared us all to death with that close call to your health. Days after surgery, you were still heavily sedated. One day, you motioned me with your hand to come close to you over at the bed. I had to lean over so you could whisper your first words to me after so many scary days of intensive care.
You whispered, “Julia Childs died”…
Obviously, you had picked up that news on the television. And I knew then that you were back with us. Even though you still don’t remember saying that to me, you were back!
And more beautiful than ever at your very young age of 70 - ish! So many lives you have lived! From raising your kids on your own as an Interior Designer for the well-heeled in Michigan, to living your life as only you can here in Costa Rica. You shared your life lessons with me early on when I needed to learn them most. Like during those volunteer days.
You said, “If you don’t wish to do something, don’t waffle and don’t try to please. Just say NO!”
You dish out criticisms to your ‘daughters’ as you see fit – trying to make us better people – and you can also take it! You definitely met your match in terms of intellect and energy with your daughter-in-law, Francie. She is also quite a force of nature and, now that you have smoothed over the bumps of getting to know each other, you two have turned into an amazing team. Who could have guessed that my horse buddy, Francie - who ruined her Peruvian mare by racing her with Matchi - oh how we flew like the wind, week after week, racing our horses up the road from Piedras Negras - would end up as your daughter-in-law. Now Francie has turned your son, Howard, into a horseman also, with the big arena and now the Hacienda in Nicaragua. You definitely attract larger than life people to you!
You once confessed that you can’t abide dullness, banality, stupidity. However, you can even take stupidity better than you can take boredom. Have you ever been bored even for one minute? I doubt it!
We girls sit and listen to you – your stories and your antics. You mesmerize us living life as you do - with your passion. Yes, I confess, we’ve said it to each other: “I can’t wait until I’m 70 and then I can just jump on the judge too and to the Devil with all the gossips!”
But you’re always a lady - impeccably dressed, and with impeccable manners - always. Always kind to people and animals; a bit pushy, perhaps, when you’re returning something - like that blouse you negotiated so hard for. A few days after buying it, you turn around and return it! I still can’t believe you talked me into accompanying you back into that dress shop!
Another lesson from you: life is a negotiation. Some battles aren’t worth fighting, but if they are, win!
Every person at your lunch today has many stories to share. And we shall all bring you precious gifts. I bring to you exotic flowers and herbs from the garden.
Happy Birthday Mom!
From V and all your girls.

Flowering Season has Arrived!

In bloom now: Species of Tabebuia with their blazing canopy of big flowers -yellow and pink blooms - Cortez Amarillo and Roble de Sabana - lighting up the forests and roadways; also, lacy blue Jacarandas, fragrant white Luehea speciosa, Sweet-pea pinkish Madero negro, and other trees ready to pop, especially species in the Melastrome Family and one of my favorite trees, Tucuico (Ardisia revoluto). Also, a slew of herbaceous plants are now in flower - bright orange daisies punctuating a delightful understory of Blue Ginger (Dichorisandra thrysiflora), among many others. Scores of butterflies flutter up around as you move through the pasture trails.

Now’s the time to go hiking or driving along country roads in Costa Rica for the flowering tree show, which continues through April. When the rains begin, other blooms emerge, so the show never really ends. The difference now is the far more dramatic displays put on by deciduous – leafless - tropical trees during the dry, summer months. Pictures abound on the web, so northerners, go check them out!
Notably absent once again this season: we have not seen any of the creamy white Quebracho flowers (Lysiloma sp.s). They haven’t bloomed for two seasons now. They did produce a bumper-crop of seeds back in 2005, so perhaps Lysiloma trees need seasons to rest between bumper-crops.

The horses are living in spa-heaven now, with pasture feed & seeds and NO FLIES. They drink fresh spring water and take mud baths. Life is good for them right now. We love to go out riding first thing in the morning while the air is still fresh. We can hear the Toucans and Trogons singing their certain - I feel rain in the air - sort of song. And always more butterflies fluttering up and around us as we trot through the pastures.

Down below, the charrals are beginning to take on a more orderly appearance, now that the herbaceous plants have started drying out. You can see the trees shooting up everywhere. We’re going on our third season of forest regeneration in these sections. I never tire of wandering the charral - they are places of continuous discovery...

…ring, ring, ring… Time for breakfast!
And then it’s run, run, run - time to keep all the plates spinning, so we can get finished with the house already!

Our neighbor, Gabriella, came over walking with me last week and her parting remark was: “You won’t be done with this by March 15th.”
“Oh, yes I will!” I said.
“No you won’t” she laughed back, and then turned and trotted up the driveway, long, blonde ponytail bouncing jauntily behind her.
Gabriela is this Swiss German beauty who reminds me of the grown-up Heidi image from one of my favorite childhood books. Remember the little Swiss girl who went to live with her grandfather in the mountains? There were a slew of those Heidi books – just like the Nancy Drew series – so we all know that Heidi grew up and went away to College, and received her grandfather’s smelly cheeses through the post!
And Gabriela sort of reminds me of that book-image of Heidi…
Except Gabriela doesn’t hike! She’s Swiss but doesn’t hike! She prefers golf, etc.
Well, all I can say after our morning hikes together is that she hikes the mountain better than most people who say they are hikers!
Always so understated, the Swiss. Gabriela’s married to an adorable grump- kind of like GRAK - who insists that he is only an amateur entomologist, even though he’s conserving the most impressive tropical butterfly collection outside of InBio I have ever seen! All collected at Finca Hamadryas over the years. He even has a butterfly named after Gabriella! If you read German, you can read all about Finca Hamadryas on their web page but best not to link up without getting permission first else notoriously private Paul is liable to set his Rottweilers on me!

The Horsemen go for Curry

Curious tree in bloom now: Rondeletia aspera(RUBIAC)-Panama Rose. You can get more fotos at Manuel and Yami's site: www.elmundoforestal.com

The Horsemen are meeting at Taj Mahal today for curry. That usually means a long boozy affair, which continues on to another pub or out for cards & rutting down at the Del Rey. Today, only 3 of the Horsemen meet at the restaurant, and then the party continues over at the home of Pestilence. I will call Marj occasionally throughout the day to keep tabs on when I can expect Famine home.
By the time you read this, the party will hopefully be over.

On the way out today, GRAK came across our green Jeep at ‘Lubricantes Willy.’ No kidding. You can’t make this stuff up. The greasy gringo working there told him that Janet dropped off the car to fix a low tire. The gringo moved here 42 years ago from California and now works for a local car mechanic. We never knew he existed until today; lots of people like that live all over the landscape here.
I’m staying back at Tigre today, as usual, to deal with tons of issues. For one, the tempered glass for the shower door broke yesterday during installation. One step forward, two steps back.
We’re still waiting for our tempered glass front door that some guy destroyed at our flat in New Orleans. That was 4 a.m. Halloween night. We know because some other merry-maker filmed the whole thing on his cellular phone. Then he went home and crashed and forgot about the whole thing until weeks later. Police now have a copy of the phone-film but the culprits will never get caught, and meanwhile we’re still waiting for the replacement door. Cest la vie in the Vieux Carre. We still love that town!
Wonder how long it will take for the replacement here in Costa Rica?
Okay - the March 14th construction deadline does not include the tempered glass or granite…

GRAK has taken a sudden interest in security. In a prior life, we lived more in a state of Yellow-Alert and even learned advanced driving and counter-surveillance measures. We had such fun bashing cars and shooting paint-balls. GRAK is a sharpshooter, but I’m not bad now that I’ve started using my right hand! Turns out I do some things better with my right hand, even though I’m left-handed. At our last training session, the firearms/security expert said that I was great shot! Not GRAK, but not bad!
Gerry wants the guy to come back in February for another training session. Saturday for the employees and Sunday for us gals! I don’t want to compete in target practice with the employees. No reason to make them feel bad. Hugo was such a lousy shot that GRAK won’t let him near a firearm now. We’re trying to do everything legally and with the proper permits. That’s turned into a part-time job for GRAK, collecting documents to schlep off once again to the ‘Oficina de Armas y Explosivos’ in Zapote, and hoping that this time they don’t send him off again to the ‘Departamento de Armamentos’ in Coronado. He always returns home in a foul temper after one of those days dealing with the Tico firearms bureaucracy.
We train with firearms here at El Tigre so that we can defend ourselves in the event of that necessity.

We don’t hunt here – In fact, the only animal I’ve ever seen GRAK kill was a rabid raccoon in PA. He fired one shot to the head at 150 meters or so and the raccoon died.
Nor do we allow hunters to invade the forest. If we hear dogs and hunters, we go find them and ask them to leave. If we hear a lot of shooting, we call MINAE to help us get them out. As word has gotten out, we rarely have to deal with hunters now. We would actually like a larger corridor to bring in more wildlife and genetic biodiversity, but at least our remnant appears to be in balance. We see animal tracks near the streams and near trees where they feed on fallen fruit. Armando can identify animals by the tracks they leave behind.

This morning, while hiking with Flopsy, we came across a coral snake squiggling away from us across the trail and down into the forest. They are such timid little things - venomous, yes - but they have such a little mouth and so shy. One time, Wendy Brady and I came across what we thought was a dead Coral snake. We poked it with a stick and it squiggled away.
Anyway, while down in the forest this morning, I noticed once again that the trails are all squeaky clean this season. All the leaves have been swept away and the trails are almost too tidy. I noticed it first when I started walking alone with just the dogs. Armando still accompanies me on all the long hikes down to the waterfalls but, now that I’ve learned the ropes, I can manage the charral and secondary trails quite well on my own. Either Gerald told him to look after his daft, klutzy wife or Armando took the initiative.
Time seems to expand down in the forest. What feels like hours might only take minutes. That’s why I’m often late for breakfast – the minutes do add up. Mountain hiking feels like doing Taiji and Pilates alignments all day long. Now I understand what Elliott said. BTW, Elliott, heard about your awesome gig at the beach with the guy from the Grateful Dead. Did you upload everything to YouTube?

Patricia comes over tomorrow for a Taijiquan session. She’s good for the ego. Whenever I think I’m training pretty well, she comes over and puts me in my place. I’m trying to convince her to learn Mandarin with me and maybe then we can train in Beijing with Fan, if he accepts us as students. He will definitely accept Patricia – she’s got 25 years of experience over me and is a natural at the martial arts - trains with Zhang in SanFran! What do you say, Patricia? Want to go to Beijing?

Thanks for writing, G. You were my first real friend at an age when I was still carving out roles and identities, like dresses in a boutique…
…actress …chemist…writer…botanist…dancer... you could see me through all the roles. And in that frenetic whirl of adolescence, girls running in packs, you were a major settling influence. Please give your family a big hug from a grateful childhood friend.
P. Thanks for helping me stay with the Work, despite major second force, GRAK-force.

Why do this?

Why do I write this blog? I hate the word but the format serves a purpose. It gives me a release for the need to write. I used to handwrite long letters to friends and family and send them off in the post. And sometimes they would respond! I just loved opening the envelope and then feasting my eyes on the lovely prose of say, soul-mate of gardening, Marjorie Swenson. Remember those days? Everybody loves opening handwritten letters from long-distant friends. There’s something about putting words to paper with a pen – requires ordering your thoughts. You are directing all your thoughts and meaning to your friend.
Then we all switched to emails. And everyone teases me about my long, often boring, sometimes tedious, rarely entertaining but always way too lo-o-oong, blah, blah, blah.
Well guess what pals? I’m not writing anymore emails except those one or two liners that everybody else writes – see u fri at 12pm, my house, xxooV. All my other blathering will be done here. Only close friends and family read this anyway and I’ll have a record in case my laptop crashes again.
My mission in life is El Tigre- that’s what I mostly write about. But the contribution goes well beyond me or words! When you stand on Tiger Hill and look at the hills beyond the forest, you can still see barren landscapes where decades of cattle ranching completely decimated the forest. Still, the forest advances from El Tigre and Rodeo Protected Zone. Other locals have decided to allow the land to regenerate naturally to forest. More and more people have stopped using the land for livestock or agriculture and allowing the forest to return. Neighbors don’t need to plant anything- the seeds come in via bird courier courtesy of Zona Protectora, El Rodeo. The forest is getting bigger! Someday, we imagine hooking up and becoming part of a wildlife corridor between El Tigre and nearby national parks like Caregre or even Carara!
Perhaps in my lifetime, the Jaguar might even return to El Tigre! Our dogs won’t like it but the idea is that there will be enough prey in the forest to support once again the big cat. Right now she is struggling even in huge forest areas like Osa Peninsula. I was furious a few years back when a crowd of ‘valientes’ killed a poor, confused Jaguar who wandered onto the hills of Escazu. They killed the last male living on that terrain! But there is hope even for a remnant forest like El Tigre! At the moment, reforestation is in fashion. Some people think they might actually get paid money for protecting a forest – kind of like getting paid a carbon credit from polluting countries. It really doesn’t matter to me what the motivations of forest owners. The forest grows!
And in a world that feels increasingly unstable and in places, verging on chaos, the forest is a comforting place. When I’m in New Orleans, feeling heartsick and missing El Tigre, Nancy Adams takes me to sit in her lovely garden uptown. It’s a magical place – you can sit in the midst of her flowers for hours. Perhaps everyone should at least have a potted plant to have some kind of connection with nature.
To me, nature is a conduit for waking up. It’s hard to put into words. Those who do The Work, describe waking-up as an experience following much effort and diligence of doing the Work…self-observation…casting light on behavior ….remembering self…becoming vitally interested in ‘what is’…facing bumps and shocks as a challenge. There is much to the Work that I’m not ready to write about. Those in the Work would admonish silence. Yes, I read Emerson and Thoreau.

More from El Tigre

Housekeeper Janet smiles at prospect of getting out of here for a much needed vacation!
I’m writing this from TexMex over my first glass of wine. No Wi-Fi at Tigre yet but coming soon – 6 months some say, which really means 2 years, but soon-ish. Then I can catch up on my correspondence. I’m really sorry for not writing personally to you, but only have a chance to check my Gmail account once a week or so. Luckily, Gerry deals with all the business-related stuff a bit more frequently. He’s been great about running all the admin and construction-related trips outside of the Finca, and that’s when he can catch up with emails over a coffee or something stronger.

Actually, GRAK is glad to get away from El Tigre for pretty much any excuse. He’s got a big smile on his face today because he needs to fly back to New Orleans for some finishing items for the house. He‘s planning the trip now but I’m not going.

I’m not budging from Costa Rica until the house is finished - Punto! I have now committed the end-date to paper. We will throw a party for construction and household staff on March 14th and move our container of furniture out of storage and into the house on March 15th. The inauguration for all our friends will be soon afterwards - before we go back to New Orleans in April. But in order to make this happen, we are on the move all day long and exhausted at night...

…and missing the holiday parties and opportunities to see some very dear friends living here in Costa Rica. Happy New Year everyone!

It’s especially hectic now in January because all the employees want to take vacation and we have to work double time to keep the place running smoothly. Armando is off this week, and next week Janet is taking the kids and heading to the Manuel Antonio beaches for a little R&R. She has been running both the household and construction support-tasks for almost two years now, including during all our months in New Orleans, and she is, therefore, SO out of here.

Now I know that my family and northern friends are just crying – buckets, I’m sure - over the fact that I now have to clean my own toilets for a week while the housekeeper is on vacation.
Actually, I don’t mind house-cleaning because it gives me a chance to get into the corners and discover things. I especially like cleaning the pool. You can dredge and skim up some really bizarre insects first thing in the morning after the battles from the night before. Some night, we shall have to take a flashlight down to the pool to really check out all the action!

So due to staffing issues, I have even less time for hiking out in the forest with friends. After vacations, I will plan a hike in February – will email details soon.
All botanical visits remain postponed until after Jazz Fest, 2008.

Rosemary, I love you for picking up that matted dog and taking him home. He is your Flopsy.
Jan, those were great pictures of that Boa constrictor living in your car – and Bless You for not killing him, but rather taking him out to mate with the female Boa living near your stables. You will never have a rat problem at your stable and you won’t need cats (much as you love them, but hey, you’ve got cats at your house in Barcelona). And anyway, as we know only too well, you can’t mix cats and/or small dogs with big Boas. Remember that Boa in Ciudad Colon that ate my favorite cat, Grisela?

I do plan to upload pictures sooner or later, but if you want to check out some gorgeous photography of Costa Rican trees and forests – some of which were taken here at Finca El Tigre, go to this website: www.Elmundoforestal.com It’s in Spanish but the pictures tell a large part of the story. If you want to ID something, go to InBio.co.cr (Instituto de Biodiversidad) in Costa Rica or for plants, try MOBOT.org (U.Missouri Bot.Gard.) and go into their incredible database of plants, many with pictures.

Horsey Friends – Fly Season is finally over! Come on over and ride with me. During the current construction period, I can only ride Mon-Wed-Fri at 7:30AM. Please call my cellular to confirm if you plan to ride over with your horse or need one of our horses. After construction has finished, my schedule will be more flexible but for now, once those horses stampede out to pasture, it’s adios until suppertime.


As all locals know, construction workers in Costa Rica usually sleep or play football during lunchtime. This has been the case with our guys, although they don’t play football so much anymore after losing a slew of soccer balls to the forest. Anyway, I walked up to the house during lunch hour and found our stone-man, Rayo, reading the Bible. Like an idiot with a big mouth (I know, Georgina, I am quite hopeless), I told him something like it was great to read the Bible, and recommended that he try Ecclesiastes for something really sublime. Next day, I arrive at lunchtime to see Rayo reading the Bible to all the construction workers. But they weren’t lapping it up - they just sat there with vacant expressions. As I walked past, the Maestro de Obras, Carlos, glanced up at me and his eyes told me what he was thinking, “We’re putting up with this because of you, but we don’t like it!” My eyes answered back, “Understood”.
That was the last Bible reading at El Tigre.

I’m on my second glass of wine. It’s time to eat else GRAK will have to carry me out again.

Big Green Monster Flies

They’re big as horse-flies, lime-green in color, with transparent-blackish wings that whirr fast as a hummingbird’s as they hover in front of you, checking you out as possible prey, whirring away fast as a UFO, back and forth, buzzing, hovering, and -!- landing on my horses! Now I can really see the little bastards! Monstrous looking creatures, that look like something out of a science fiction film – and they torment my horses! It’s been a rough week, but we finally got ahead of them. Had to experiment with a combination of repellants and remedies to help heal the ‘thank you Maam’ sores left behind from snacking on Vulcan and Matchi! I’ll spare you the details. I need an entomologist-veterinarian to help us identify, understand and better defend against this dreadful green monster fly. Help us entom. friends!
Thankfully, Lucero and Solo both seemed immune to the bite – in fact, they mostly managed to avoid getting bitten at all by flicking the tail or just doing that muscle-twitchy thing, which doesn’t allow a bug to land. I can feel Solo muscle-twitch when I ride him, so I always know when a fly has landed on him because he goes all bouncy on me. Out in the field, we can just go for a flying gallop and leave all the flies behind. But in pasture, the horses don’t gallop around to unload the flies. They just continue feasting on the wonderful Tanzania grass that we planted for them last season. I guess fine dining helps to take their mind off of the pain! In any case, Vulcan and Matchi just let the flies bite them, and also they’re not yet as immune as Lucero and Solo. It makes sense because Lucero and Solo were both born here in El Rodeo. Matchi, an Arabian-Peruvian mix, comes from La Garita, and Vulcan, our beauty, came from Guanacaste. They have to spend a few more years adjusting to the local flora and fauna and build up their resistance, just like us humans! Everybody who first visits the tropical forest from northern climates needs to undergo a process of acclimation (Gerry insists the word is acclimatisation – those wacky Brits). And give yourself a few days in the shade before heading out to the beach, or else you will be done before you start! I always suggest to visiting friends that they start with the forest and end at the beach.
Flowers are late this year, due to the rainy season we had. No blooms yet from Yuco (Bernoullia flammea), and only a few trees from the Tabebuia species and Gallinazo (Schizolobium). Not a ‘light up the forest with dazzling orange’, as is usual with Yuco. Also, we noticed that the Quebracho trees (Lysiloma sps.) haven’t flowered for two seasons. We had a bumper crop of seeds the season before. Not sure if it has to do with the species or the season. The Pseudosamanea is in bloom and looking very much like the Guayaquil that it actually is – creamy-white flowers. This might be heresy, but I’m beginning to suspect that species shift according to environment. Is it the same species or can the environment change the species and we give it another name? Do certain environmental conditions cause the gland in the Samanea petiole to swell and become apparent – making it a Pseudosamanea? Does the same tree change by adapting to the environment or is it really a different species? I did see both Samanea and Pseudosamanea next to each other at Kathryn Kostka de Tanzi's finca, so tend to believe that they are separate species, regardless of the environment, yet…. We shall need to do experiments on this. We have several Pseudosamanea (think they’re gonna change that genus name to Albizia, not sure) that look so like Samanea saman, that we have to point out the petiole in the center of the gland and/or the creamy-white flower to convince visiting botanists and foresters! In fact, it’s in flower right now! So everybody, who thinks the tree is a Cenizaro, come on over! You won’t see pink flowers and we’ll show you the gland!
Lots of Poro (Erythrina sp.) in blazing orange bloom along the highway from Rodeo to Ciudad Colon to Escazu.
Also, lots of bird activity, with all the bizarre bugs that have come out of nowhere this season. Saw a pair of yellow-breasted Trogons this morning. Not sure if that’s the correct name because our Skutches book is still in storage, because - yes, yes - we are still deep in reconstruction. Just as an aside, Gerry is pining and grousing and bitching, and now insisting, that he’d had quite enough of it all and is planning a trip back to New Orleans in February for a little R & R - and decent food and wine - and civilization, culture, jazz…

Flopsy Saved!

Flopsy leads Spot and Sol around Higueron in high speed chase a few days after his close call.
It was touch and go – very scary. We really thought we had lost him.
I got up yesterday morning and for the first time in Tigre history, Flops was not at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me. I raced to the laundry room, where he sleeps at night with Spotty, and found him lying on his side, belly tight and swollen, partially conscious but just. Something very bad was killing poor Flopsy.
Gerry had mentioned the night before that Flops seemed a bit droopy. We were sitting out at the pool at the time, Flopsy resting quietly beside us, while the other dogs roughhoused all over the place. I didn’t notice it at the time because Flops usually doesn’t roughhouse anyway. Now that memory came back in light of the alarming new symptoms. This was serious! Janet helped me settle Flops in the battery room, where we examined him more carefully. His situation was beyond the vomit stage. Whatever he ate sometime ago was now wreaking havoc with his intestines.
We raced over to the stables, rummaged through the animal medicines and found what we needed. After giving Flops a dose of a broad-spectrum quinolone and parasite medicine, we decided to watch him until 8AM, and if he didn’t improve, we would take him to the vet. I tried not to cry but couldn’t help it. I was so afraid that we might lose poor Flops and I just couldn’t bear it. Not after losing Samantha to that awful snakebite. Not Flopsy!
The morning crawled by and Flopsy slept. At 7AM, his belly was still bloated but softer. He had not vomited, and so the meds had reached the theatre of action. He began drinking water at 8AM and eating at noon.
This morning, Flopsy woke me up with his – woooh, woooh, wooooh! We went out walking as usual. Did the meds work or did he just get better anyway? Who knows!
Flopsy lives! All is well in the jungle.

Tigre Reporting at Christmas

Spotty joins the horses out in the first pasture.

It’s good to be home. I was even glad to see the leafcutter ants – as they busily dismantled and carted off the Ylang Ylang tree. Rascals!
Gerry lasted less than a week before returning to New Orleans… Ostensibly to return our Chesterfield sofa back to the manufacturer for repair. Yes, yes, that’s true. What’s also very true is that GRAK was only too relieved to get back again to New Orleans…N’awlins….The Big Easy… good music, good food, good booze and good friends…even if just for one week.
Respite from…the dust…construction…workers everywhere…welding, sanding, painting….
….over to Janet’s kitchen for breakfast….to the kids, cats, dogs ….each wanting attention and affection all along the way, to finally, the kitchen table and breakfast- coffee and fruit- all fresh and delicious from El Tigre orchards…
…but wait! Where was Victoria?
Down here in the forest with Flopsy. Sadly, we lost Samantha to snakebite this past September. A Terciopelo bit her in the neck. Sammy went sniffing where she shouldn’t have and…we couldn’t save her. All the rest of the pack is fine – their instinct to please is stronger than their instinct to hunt, which better assures their survival in the forest. When I yell ….Come! Heal! Sit! Stay! They (mostly) obey.
Sammy was a poodle/Pekinese mix some call a pekapoo – a sweet little thing with a killer instinct. She would ignore my hollering to ‘COME!’ and continue pursuing prey, no matter how mad I would get at her. The vet told us that even if she had survived the snakebite, she would have just gone right back out there and hunted again.
Is your dog a natural born killer? How does he respond when you ask him not to chase a squirrel?
In our experience, the best dog for forest living is the mixed breed – Zaguates they call them in Costa Rica – like my little dog, Flopsy. We got Flops from some Animal Rescue friends who rescued him from a very bad man who tortured his dogs to death. The neighbors complained about the yelping and our friends went in there with the police and got the dogs. I’ll write about the Animal Rescue girlfriends another time. Suffice it to say they are drop-dead gorgeous women with whom the normally ahorita police are only too happy to drop everything in order to escort them to the crime scene. Flops came to us with broken teeth and ribs.
He’s fine now and walks with me everywhere. He doesn’t hunt or chase prey while hiking, so he won’t get into any trouble. We will get old together, Flopsy and me, walking companionably together down in the forest…
…and stopping often. Listening to the whoooooosh of Aracaris flying above us, feeding on the massive Higueron trees; warblers flitting everywhere; monkeys up there too, the males moving closer, throwing a branch down at us now and then, but half-heartedly, not like before when Sammy would go ape-shit barking at them. We are just getting used to each other, aware that we are harmless to each other. Little by little, when I stay very still, the animal presence makes itself seen and heard. Flopsy sits quietly at my side.
At last count, El Tigre has a pack of 9 dogs and 10 cats. Skinny Bones, a scrawny cat, showed up while we were in New Orleans and was accepted into our pack. Why so many cats and dogs? Well we prefer them in the garden to venomous snakes, who hunt the same small prey. While we’ve had casualties – Lucky and Luna to Bufo toads, Maggie and Pipsy to the forest - more abandoned animals find their way to us, quickly replacing those lost.
When you go to the forest, please do not abandon your dog or cat there. I’m sure YOU wouldn’t, but so many other people abandon their animals out in the country. The poor animals usually die a cruel death. If you see a dog or cat meandering aimlessly or sitting along the road, pick it up and take it home. It has just been abandoned. The lucky ones get adopted by the locals. But usually, the other resident dogs drive them away to fates unknown. That’s the way it works in the country.
If you can’t place an abandoned dog yourself, as a last resort take it to the shelter. Once, we took a rescued dog named Piglet to the animal shelter in Heredia and he was adopted that same day by a nice couple wanting a small dog as companion to their Labrador. We gave the shelter manager, Lilian, a nice donation for helping to bring animals and people together; a much happier scenario than leaving him in the forest, where many perils await the domestic animal. Just as one example, we saw a huge Boa Constrictor the other day that could easily eat Flopsy for breakfast. The tropical forest is a scary place – our animals stay clear of it unless walking with us. You won’t see dogs wandering around by themselves in the tropical forest.
But for us visiting humans, the forest world is a source of wonder.
There is much to observe and study….measure K-species growth, identify flowering vines, experiment with plants – like the one in the ASTERAC family that the local indigenous Shaman says will produce an energy boost….hmmmm…coffee tastes better and its caffeine works better. Forget about it! I’ve had my fill of masking nasty tasting drugs during all those years in the pharmacy. Mostly, I’m taking my time, just enjoying the forest - waking up to it. There is so much living to do there…
….The phone’s ringing. It’s Gerald. I’m late for breakfast again.
Gerald is grumpy - very grumpy. He’s just estimated that the renovation work will require 3 more months, despite assurances to the contrary by the Professor-Architect. And this revelation has greatly annoyed him. Granted, the road washed out a couple of times during the rainy season, making travel all but impossible. But let’s get the job done already! Get going man! In your dreams! Our construction crew plods along slow but sure. They do good work -NO roof leaks after the worst rainy season in 30 years – but sooooo slooooooow!
On the bright side, the Solar system is working much better, now that Carlos has installed the new batteries (DEKA Unigy II). During this whole episode, we’ve learned more about electricity than we ever wanted to know, but that’s the consequence of becoming independent of the electrical company. You need to study a lot and/or find a good Solar Engineer. We use Carlos Oreamuno from www.consenergy.net
Why solar power? Because there is no electrical line on the road and we don’t want one. Our Swiss neighbors feel the same way. The best neighbors are the ones you can’t see. They’ve also gone solar. The other night, Gerry asked me why we used so much voltage. “Don’t have the foggiest idea”, I answered, while breaking up ice-cubes for his gin & tonic. Our Swiss neighbors will laugh at that one!
Apart from the usual employee bickering, the household and stables are running smoothly now, with several projects in the works. Gerry is particularly interested in renovating the horse stables and has undertaken an exhaustive investigation on the treatment of wood. His partner in this endeavor is none other than Dr. Bob from the Tex Mex, Santa Ana, who knows a lot about wood. He ought to – Tex Mex is lodged in an old structure entirely built with almond wood. Dr. Bob has seen it all – termites, ants, mold, you name it. He and Gerry regularly meet to discuss the wood issue and everything else over a Margarita or three.
We’re spending Christmas and Boxing Day with the 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse up on Barva Mountain, along with their respective families, entourages and menageries- a real collection of characters. It has been a hellish year for all, especially Pestilence. Famine – Pestilence – War – Death - they love each other like brothers and will spend the week hanging out together over copious amounts of refreshment and the odd bottle of vintage port, etc. The rest of us will put up with them as best we can…
Merry Christmas to you.
Happy Chanukah.
Pax Vobiscum.

I want to go home now!

Matchi at home grazing in Los Alvarados pasture. It's time to go home. Yes, New Orleans is also home - especially to the old sod. But El Tigre is really home. Home, home to perfect spring-like weather, rainy or dry, it's always the same, 70 - 85 Farenheit. Home to the forest. Home to our dogs - I can see them now, racing over to the car as we arrive, barking and jumping all around and plunging right inside as soon as I open the door; Spotty landing on my lap, licking my face and then jumping over to Gerald. Gerald sputtering but smiling. Now Flopsy's inside. The others wait outside but surround us when we finally emerge, small dog under each arm. Now the big dogs have their chance to greet us, leaving dusty paws all over our clothes.

Janet and the kids will come out and help us with luggage. We go inside to her kitchen and find the cats, all meowing and wanting to get petted. I walk over to the stables where the horses have already settled down in their stalls for the night. They knicker when they see me. Did I bring them a banana to eat? The barn cats are out and about, meandering with any stray chickens who managed to ignore the evening call to the hen house. Some of them prefer to face the predators than to sleep inside at night. They mostly survive, thanks to the stable cats and dogs. I hang out at the stable for a while, talking to Jose. How are the pastures? Fencerow repairs? Gardens doing okay? Nice way to spend many hours. But all too soon, I hear Gerald yelling at me to come back to unpack.

Then the walk to the house. Will it be done? Of course not. I know for a fact that they haven't even started the kitchen or any of the closets. Will at least one bedroom be ready for us to sleep in? Most likely yes - Janet will have seen to that. But will the bedroom actually be 'done' as in renovated? Quien sabe! The endless renovation is not something I see in mind's eye here in New Orleans. It's better that way.

Back to reality here in New Orleans. It's cold here. I'm sleeping in late - yes, I've been thoroughly GRAK'ed! I do get in Taiji practice but not much else. We do feast like kings. Regularly. Visit delightful new friends and spends hours wandering the old city. The street car returned to St. Charles a few weeks ago which connected us back to friends uptown. At this point, the city very much looks the same as it did before the storm. The conventioneers have returned, filling up the Vieux Carre with merry makers. Music is everywhere. Life is good in the Big Easy.

Some people wonder why we moved to the United States. Gerry's from London and has made his opinion of the States quite clear over the years. But we don't live in America - we live in New Orleans! There is no town quite like it anywhere in the world. That's why Katrina evacuees still pine to go home, even after finding jobs and settling their families in places all over the country.

That's how I can tolerate being away from El Tigre so long. Not sure if I could handle it anywhere else. Time for dinner. We're going to Emeril's new casual place called NOLA.

Local Haunts

In Costa Rica, I like to walk into the forest every morning to commune with the spirit world. I can’t do that in New Orleans. I try to stay centered here but it's not easy. Quite frankly, I’m heartbroken to be away from the forest and would much rather leave the man-made world behind and return once again to where I belong.

Luckily, there is much in New Orleans to distract one from heartache, despite the irony of Katrina having caused so much. We are entering into Halloween season and that has added much to Big Easy madness. Huge crowds arrived this week for Voodoo Fest and other seasonal celebrations so it’s quite normal to see vampires, voodoo queens and assorted other monsters wandering around the Quarter with ‘Huge Ass Beer’ in hand. And Halloween is still a week away! Some of our local Quarter friends invited us to a ‘progressive’ dinner next Friday as a form of recovery from the spooky spectacles. The Quarter-Rat idea of recovery is a long sprawling dinner that starts at somebody’s house on one end of Royal Street and wining, dining and dancing our way to the last house on the other side. However, everyone will be dressed in normal cocktail attire.

Gerry took me to a paranormal investigation this past Wednesday at the Pharmacy Museum. We joined some locals who have come across ‘entities’ throughout New Orleans, especially in the French Quarter, and they now wanted a shot at experiencing one of the infamous pharmacy ghosts. The best prospect would be that 18th century doctor who lived in the house and died raving mad of syphilis and mercury intoxication – self administered as a remedy. But we also could run into that crazy old chicken-bone chewing laundry woman from the 19th century or maybe that slightly disheveled Victorian lady addicted to morphine. There were so many ghosts to investigate just in the Pharmacy Museum. But our hosts told us that if we really wanted a good scare, we ought to check out the old Haunted Mortuary on Canal street or the Petit Theatre on Rue Chartres – where a bunch of kids still run around up in the attic, or go check out a slew of haunted houses all around town.

Turns out, we live in the most haunted city in the country. There were 3 psychics leading us on the investigation at this particular haunted establishment. The head parapsychologist was an affable chap who has been ghost-busting for 20 plus years. He’s been featured in documentaries like “New Orleans Rich and Haunted” on channels like A&E and Discovery. We have not personally met any ghosts in New Orleans, or psychics for that matter, but most of the others at the Pharmacy event knew the psychics, as well as all the local haunts around New Orleans.

So the psychics set the scene by briefing us on this or that entity around town, and as they describe their wacky, unnatural experiences, my mind wanders. I begin wondering how I can raid the laudanum jug and blame it on the pharmacy ghost. Then the parapsychologist assigns Gerry and me the task of using a magnetic device to measure any activity, while some of us follow a kind of goofy female psychic named Daena upstairs and all around the premises in search of something or other. Not much happens for a while. Daena tries to get people to feel the energy standing next to her up in the attic but the only magnetic activity Gerry and I could pickup was an electric wire in the wall.

Finally, we walk back down to the 2nd floor and - I'm not kidding - I suddenly get this strong feeling coming from one of the bedrooms on the 2nd floor. And you know me - incurable loud mouth - I tell Daena that I had this feeling of energy and so now Daena gets quite excited and leads us all into the bedroom - about 15 of us crowding in there, and I swear to God, I was feeling this Energy! It wasn't anything scary or foreboding – more like the kind of energy I get in the forest. So I look at Daena and say to her:

"I feel something - do you feel something too?"

And she looked deeply at me for a minute and all of a sudden started crying out to Gerry:

“Go get Cari! Please go get Cari….Cari!!! ….Cari!!!!"

Cari Joy is a New Orleans psychic who was at that moment leading half of our group elsewhere in the building. So Gerry runs off to look for Cari, and Daena just seems to have a meltdown right in front of me - and everyone else (none of whom felt anything at all).

Cari arrives, orders Daena out of the room and tries to focus the energy. But there was nothing. By this time, I had slid to the back of the room and behaved like nothing had happened at all, much less prompting a scene from our psychic. We all go back downstairs, but Daena stays up there and finally – it’s now 10:30PM - Gerry and I got out of there.

Moral of the story: If you feel energy around a psychic, keep your mouth shut!

But I did wonder what happened to poor Daena and felt kind of responsible - with my stupid “I feel it …do you feel it” line - so I emailed Cari and asked her if Daena was okay. Here’s her response:


Greetings Victoria,
Thank you for contacting me with your concern. I felt the energy in the bedroom when I brought my group in, as well. I felt that it was connected to loss during childbirth or shortly there after. So no, I did not feel it was negative just sad and heavy. Great job in using your own sensitivity!

Daena is what is considered a natural empath/medium. She is unable to stop entities from using her as a channel. She has learned to alert others when this is about to occur as it can be quite unnerving. Under different circumstances, I might have assisted in facilitating the experience but my instinct then was to pull her out of the area thus breaking the connection.

When I was younger, I was much like Daena but didn’t like to lose myself to spirit. I was fortunate to have excellent resources to learn how to turn it off as necessary, maintaining consciousness while gathering information. However, some choose to continue to use somnambulant communication.

I hope that I was able to answer your question. If you would like to explore the paranormal further, I suggest visiting the Haunted Mortuary. Thank you both for attending and perhaps I will see you in future!

So there it is! Quite frankly, I much prefer communing with the spirit world in the forest.

Retired in the Crescent City

Gerald loves this well known adage:

“Work is the curse of the drinking class”.
It’s not that he disliked work – he rather enjoyed it, especially when he could do things his way. That wasn’t always easy in the corporate world, where it’s either ‘our way or the highway’. But then there was GRAK’s way, and he managed to keep to his principles throughout all those years of managing people, meeting objectives whilst thoroughly enjoying himself. Along the way, he danced Tango in Argentina, rode a donkey in Nicaragua and collected a bunch of wacky costumes from his annual sales meetings, which will now come in handy in New Orleans. He provided much fodder for Dilbert cartoons – loved to poke fun at systems and processes. His subordinates loved him but I have no doubt that most of his management was only too glad to see the backside of him when he retired last march.

So does he miss work with all the staff, status and benefits?

Nope. GRAK was made for Big Easy living. It suits his constitution. Everybody who knows Gerry can just see him eating, drinking and making merry just like, well, just like he tried to do when he worked.

People sometimes ask us: “So what do you do all day in New Orleans?”

Can you believe that? People actually wonder what we do all day in the Big Easy – in a city with more bars,restaurants and clubs open than before Katrina; where even funerals are cause for celebration, with brass bands leading friends and strangers alike second-lining through the streets. In short, we do what we would do in any city in the USA but in the edgy, heady atmosphere of nonstop music and wacky worlds within worlds. The Spanish speakers have arrived en masse since Katrina, so we're noticing a lot more Latin spicing up the jazz. It's true - jazzy salsas and sambas and big crowds dancing to them! Oh yeah, Gerry's latest project is learning Arabic. Not to be outdone, I'm thinking of learning a new language too. Maybe Greek or Mandarin. Not sure yet. Should brush off Latin for work at El Tigre.

While walking around the Quarter yesterday afternoon, I noticed a lot more police and horses on Bourbon Street and figured that it was a show for the International Law Enforcement Convention in town this week.

So I asked a policewoman, “Is all this to show off your horses or for crowd control – bet cha a bunch of drunken Police Chiefs must get pretty rowdy!”

“Both!” She said.

New Orleans living has been tough on me – wining, dining and hitting the theatres & jazz clubs with Gerald and still getting up early for Taiji at Woldenberg Riverfront Park.

The riverfront is perfect for Taiji because the runners stay to the pathways and in their own I-Pod worlds and I get to workout in peace on the grass. That is, until this morning when an Asian fellow showed up. It had to happen sooner or later. Now this is someone who’s really got the moves! He started off with a noisy version of qigong – something Patricia had been trying to get me to do. I call it spanking yourself. But this guy was really going to it – slapping and pounding himself and making such a racket that it rattled me right out of my nice, albeit amateurish, Taiji form. And then he started his martial art routine.

Oh yeah.... uh huh...., he got de moves!... All right! ... Who d’at!

But I have faith. In 20 years or so - when I’m a very old lady - maybe I’ll have the moves too!
Si dios quiere.

Countdown to New Orleans

An airline ticket to New Orleans – departing Costa Rica September 12th.

Just the thought of that brightens Gerry’s day. And lately, that’s about the only thing that does: He’s going to New Orleans and leaving all this dreadful mess behind….

….all the drenching rains, the landslides, the muck, the bone jarring detours, the housekeeper’s kitchen with all her cats and kids, the solar power monster, the construction site…

New Orleans Here We Come! Back home to our peaceful flat in the Vieux Carre, where everything works and all is orderly. Where we can walk up for some Oysters (raw, followed by barbecued) at the bar at the Red Fish Grill and then down to Frenchman Street for some great music. Or maybe visit some friends uptown. Or drive out to a Bayou…

There is so much to fill up your senses in New Orleans!

But Gerry still has to get through 10 more days of Costa Rica before landing in our beloved Big Easy – and he’s running hard so that there will NOT be any delays. It’s been exhausting – running all day – finances, construction, employees, that dreadful detour – but soon, soon – NEW ORLEANS.

Mother Nature has not cooperated. After several days of heavy rains, the old road from Ciudad Colon to Rodeo collapsed into the river leaving a great gaping, mucky hillside. Big roadwork machinery is now digging a new road out of the mountain. Currently, it looks like a great Sea of Mud with a slashed mud road through it. Many people have sunk in the muck. The other night, a lady carrying her baby sank up to her chest in muck before getting pulled out by other travelers. She left her boots behind, stuck in the mud.

Tomorrow, if it is not raining, Gerald will make the climb – all outfitted in his wellingtons and walking stick to reach a taxi waiting on the other side of the landslide. This is just one of many reasons why Gerald is counting the days.

For all our friends and family reading this: New Orleans is still a blast to visit. True, population is 50% of Pre-Katrina levels while crime remains as bad. CNN is still focusing on the rebuilding problems but these are all in areas that you never would have visited before Katrina. The bad news is that those areas still exist and still need help.

The good news is that there are more restaurants and bars open now than before Katrina. So come and enjoy them. Eat, drink and be merry. And in doing so, you will do your bit to help ALL New Orleans recover.

Marooned

August 28, 2007, 6AM

Road Works Collapsed last night. Situation worse than before. Construction workers wading through thigh-high mud to catch bus home.

Road workers should not have cut that massive higueron (Ficus sp. w/huge roots supported entire hillside).

Landslides. Jimmy sank up to his neck in muck – bystanders pulled him out.

Rodeo villagers moving in with friends/family in Ciudad Colon so folks can get to work and kids go to school.
UPAZ students now bused to university in San Jose.

Huge Ceiba branch down and road blocked to Piedras Negras.

News at El Tigre:
Construction workers coming through by foot from Ciudad Colon. Los Aventureros.

Gerald is not a happy camper.

Monkeys making peace with dogs- that is – monkeys playing with dogs, shaking tree branches at them, pruning laurel trees nicely at the top – dogs tire of barking at monkeys and dodging sticks and hurled fruits and return back to me. We sit quietly watching the monkeys.
More lessons for us all.

Back at Tex Mex - Road Reopened Briefly

Yes, here we are back at Tex Mex. Gerry had an appointment early this morning and didn’t want to deal with the long detour out of Rodeo. So yesterday, when the Municipality briefly reopened the road again, we grabbed our chance and packed a bag. We were going to Tex Mex! It was rough getting up the mucky, newly cut road though. Even at low gear, the Jeep lost grip part way up and we started sliding sideways towards the bamboo trees…and the gorge far, far below, before finally gaining grip again and up and around the steep curve. I think the police closed the road again soon afterwards.

But we made it to Tex Mex ! And it was a fun evening! We dined on grilled fish, served along with copious amounts of wine/margaritas and we checked emails and chatted with Abby, who was sitting at the next table.

Early this morning, Gerry left to renew his firearm license way over on the other side of town. In Costa Rica, getting a firearm license requires a sign-off by an approved psychologist, and passing both theoretical and practical tests. This morning, Gerry’s doing both, including firing off rounds with his dutifully licensed firearm before the licensing authorities. Presumably he has to hit the target with reasonable enough frequency to get his renewal. Dr. Bob thinks the hardest part will just be trying to get there. Traffic through Moravia at rush hour!

Our other Jeep is at the body-shop (after the maid crashed it) so I’m waiting for Gerry back here at Tex Mex. As soon as he returns, we will pick up the other car and drive home separately via the Jaris route, if the road is still closed. If it’s open, I hope I don’t crash the green Jeep down into that gorge the same day as picking it up from that brand new paint job!

Work on the road has gone faster than expected. Considering that the University for Peace is temporarily operating out of the Ciudad Colon gym, not to mention the inconvenience to residents, and without even going into the construction problems, the situation couldn’t continue for long! But as realists, we also resigned ourselves into a long, troublesome wait.

However, the Mora Municipality sprang into action just after the road collapsed. They declared an emergency and released funds to a private contractor within 24 hours. Makes you wonder but hey, we were pleased! We were shocked, though not surprised, when the heavy equipment cut down two massive trees – a Ficus and a Guanacaste – in order to cut the alternate route. Now with all the soil moved around, it’s hard to discern the new road from the old. But those trees with their massive root systems have supported the whole embankment for a long time, and the entire hillside will become less stable now that they are cut. I just hope that engineers are on this! We shall see how it looks when we return home today.

Meanwhile, I spent the entire morning at Tex Mex practicing Taiji, just like old times! I haven’t been practicing at all out at Tigre, except for a quick and empty form now and then… I justified not practicing by thinking that climbing all about the forest is a form of practice, just like horseback riding or, doing anything really. But there’s really no substitute for taking time for Practice.

So what keeps us so busy out at El Tigre? What do we do all day? Well…Gerry has been an absolute saint, and has been managing the construction and financial issues – a full time job – while I have more time to attend to other matters, like getting :
…dog prints all over my clean slacks first thing in the morning…
…observing the forest and being a part of it…
…working in the garden – it has been such a wonderful planting season with all the rain…
…walking the dogs on the pasture trail to visit the horses…
…finding that horseflies are biting the horses, so applying the citronella lotion we prepared for them this morning, and observing that the lotion works – that the flies no longer wish to land on the horses.
…and it’s easy to lose sense of time in the forest world.
I go out early in the morning, usually with three dogs in tow. Another time, I shall write about the dogs and the monkeys. After hours lost in the magic of the forest, Gerry will call me if I’m badly late for breakfast and suggest that I ‘get my ass up here’. And up I go and we have breakfast together.

After breakfast, it’s time to get busy…managing a property using solar power on old battery banks…producing enough power to serve household and construction needs … minimizing generator time to conserve diesel…instructing workers on erosion control all over the Finca…improving drainage….planting at areas of high water flow… rearranging plants for a more functional garden…
…accepting that living on a mountain means water flow and erosion control lessons very early on….and doing experiments on reducing water flow…and doing all sorts of botanical experiments along the way as we walk the Finca. What would work better for a horsefly repellant? Shall I try a little Eucalytus with the Citronella? Bad idea! Matchi had an allergic reaction. Revelation - FOOL - Conduct bug repellant experiments on my own skin, not on that of my animals! If my potions are safe and effective on my skin, then they certainly won’t harm my horses! Many, many lessons learned... from making mistakes.

I learned this lesson very early at El Tigre : Mountain living requires coming into balance with gravity. That’s harder to do than it sounds. I try to achieve balance by practicing Taiji - and, when Gerry agrees to dance with me (never often enough) - Ballroom Dancing. But lately, I’ve been able to come into balance by moving around on the mountain. In fact, now that I can achieve balance just by climbing around the forest, that’s all I do!
It’s easy to never leave El Tigre at all…only too easy…

Gerry just phoned : He got 100% on both theoretical and practical tests- such a sharp-shooter! Now all he has to do is get back over here in one piece from Moravia. And then the long drive via Jaris.
Stay tuned on the Road.

Road Closed to Tigre, UPAZ

We believe that Finca El Tigre is Carbon Neutral. In fact, we put more oxygen out there than carbon dioxide and this even though we drive two gas guzzling V-8 Grand Cherokee Jeeps. How do we get away with that and still be carbon neutral? Well, as an aside, we would much rather sell the jeeps and drive a brand new Turbo Diesel, 4x4 Toyota Hilux Pick-up truck. At least this we does. The other we would prefer a Land Rover Defender diesel truck. But in any case, we decided that the jeeps were cheaper to run than to sell. Gas guzzlers are getting lousy prices on the secondary market in Costa Rica right now. But even so, we’re still putting out more O2 than CO2 - and you are welcome to come over and quantify the whole thing but you will need plenty of gas to get here – or better yet - a helicopter.

Heavy rains knocked out the road between Ciudad Colon and El Rodeo this morning, which means all of us living on the road from the rickety bridge at Ciudad Colon to El Rodeo… University for Peace… El Tigre… Piedras Negras and beyond, all have to use an alternative route for some time to come. The road subsided this morning, just as Armando was driving back from Ciudad Colon with supplies for the renovations. He said that the road seemed to dip when he drove up to Ciudad Colon at around 6:45AM. Shortly afterwards, on his return trip, the steep dip in the road had already begun to sink... he managed to get over it – with a big tthuuuunk to his axle – but just. An instant later, the road subsided by nearly half a meter and, clearing that precipice, Armando could feel the ground ‘softening’ beneath him and saw the asphalt road crackling up out in front. There was simply no way, he said to me on the phone, that Victor could pop over to Tigre with 3 meters of lava stone. Ni modo! Nobody was driving down that road for some time to come- maybe months. Not by motorcycle or horseback either. The only way through now was by foot – and walking quickly and softly so as not to destabilize the ground further.

This gloomy news is still sinking in today. Worse, the locals tell us that the road remains highly unstable and continues to sink on down towards the river. That section of the road has been showing signs of instability for months but it took over 12 hours of heavy rain – backwash from hurricane Dean crossing over Belize and Mexico - to completely destabilize the hillside leading up to Ciudad Colon.

Oy! What a plaga of hurricanes. First New Orleans – GIRLS GO WILD Katrina & Wilma. Now Mean Hurricane Dean makes mischief with us in Costa Rica.

And yes, we are still renovating the house. At the moment we are crammed into one guestroom in the main house. We open the door and look out onto a construction site, which is how we have been living since returning from New Orleans back in May. Despite this latest set-back with the collapsed road, we still plan to leave for New Orleans mid- September and hope to return back to El Tigre in December to a finished house – after over 18 months of renovations. Still, with the road closed, we might have to be flexible over the next few months in everything…

Guess that means spending even more time mucking about in the forest out at Tigre. Sounds great to me! Living at Tigre has been like a honeymoon. We finally live here – sure, cramped into one little guest room with all our earthly possessions but….

… oh how the gardens come alive with butterflies –Polly, I shall try to upload photos to the blog as soon as I get the camera back out of storage. There are so many colorful species fluttering all over the Lantana borders and all around us - watching this magical scene quite takes your breath away. And then there is the forest… there is so much living to do here. Until today, I haven’t had the time to sit down and write.

Gerry spent the entire day checking out the two alternative dirt, gravel and mud routes we have into Ciudad Colon from El Rodeo (and obviously the reverse). One alternative is via Piedras Negras to La Guacima, Belen, and Santa Ana – about 45km; and the other (more scenic route) is via Piedras Negras to Jaris, La Palma, and the road to Puriscal – about 35km. Both will be used as we rearrange our lives to adapt to these changed circumstances.

Stay tuned for latest situation on the road. In the meantime, we must cancel all hikes and botanical visits from now until the road has been sorted out. You certainly do not wish to drive an additional 30km of rough terrain to visit us. Think of the carbon you would be spewing into the air! Yikes! Guess we’ll be doing the same and that shoots our carbon footprint all to hell!

Peril in Paradise

Big news in the village this week – a snake bit a local gardener, which landed him in the hospital for three days. The poor fellow was working out in his field wearing sandals (no no) and stepped on a Cascabel Mudo (Mute Rattlesnake). That’s why you see Costa Rican field workers wearing rubber boots all day long. I wear them too! Snakes chomp into rubber, not flesh. Mute Rattlesnakes are quite rare at Finca El Tigre. We have Terciopelo – Fer de Lance -and they are much worse. At least the Cascabel Mudo will give you warning if you weed your garden a bit too close to where he’s napping – he will kind of hiss at you – give you a chance to back off. The Terciopelo gets more easily irritated and might strike you without any warning at all! And believe me - you don’t want to get bitten in the upper body by one of those rascals! You will almost certainly survive a snake bite to the foot but a bite in the neck would not bode well no matter how fast the helicopter gets you to the hospital.

It goes without saying that you need to put your full attention to weeding a tropical garden to avoid mishaps. Not just with snakes – there are a whole slew of biting insects out there that will ruin your day, not to mention certain exotic creepy crawlers that will burn your skin after just the slightest touch.

You also have to watch where you’re going out in the forest. Always remember the well known adage: ‘Look where you’re walking – stop to look up.’ If you don’t take care, there are prickles and spines and all sorts of ways to get burned, stabbed, cut up and worse.
So why do we do it? Why court danger out in the forest when we could just cut some decent trails and have a nice relaxing hike? Well, we do cut the trails – afterwards. What happens is we start out wanting to see something – like a tree we want to identify. But to get over to it, we have to scale a mountain, holding onto tree roots for dear life to keep from tumbling down, then scrambling over rocks and more steep terrain until finally we reach the tree. We take a look. Is it? It is! It’s a Tempisque! In fact, we found two - yes two -rare Tempisque trees growing just 1 meter apart from each other – even rarer! Generally, hardwoods grow scattered apart from each other in nature. What a find! Needless to say, we now have a nice trail so you can see the two Tempisques too without much physical difficulty.

I believe you have to be a bit of an adrenaline type to live in a tropical forest. I get my adrenaline kick by riding horses. We don’t do dressage training out at Tigre – we fly! We take our horses and trot down the mountain at a good clip, pacing them for their own good. We reach a nice grassy pasture with rolling hills that extends some 5 kilometers across the valley, and here we fly. The horses relax and we go from a nice extended canter to a full exhilarating gallop. The horses love it and so do we! We come across foot trails in the grass and ride the trails like a motorcycle – curving here and there and suddenly the trail disappears back into grassy pasture with views opening up for miles all around. Now we just joyfully fly across the pasture – me sitting or up in jumping position, depending on the terrain. We know where we’re going and we fly as a team.

However, the thrill can switch to terror in an instant– my horse could stumble over a rock and throw a shoe or, as what happened the other day, we could round a curve at full out gallop and come across a car in the middle of the lane. Here, in a split instant, time expands and attention melds with adrenaline to deal with ‘shit happens’. I’ve had my share of near-mishaps but not many accidents. Partly it’s judgment – no more racing on the road! I really have to apologize to my neighbor Gabriela who was just minding her own business, driving around a bend and confronting the likes of us. No harm done but my horse, Volcan, had to spin a tight corner to keep from plummeting us both down the mountainside. He is such a good boy!
But it’s not all adrenaline. There are just instants here and there. A hike in the forest is mostly just magical. When hiking alone, I stay to the trails if Armando and his trusty machete are not accompanying me to hack through the obstacles off-trail. But sometimes the trail hasn’t been cut for a while and the brush has grown a bit higher and I just kind of push the envelope. But if the going gets too rough, I always turn back to the trail.

But the most terrifying peril of all out at Tigre is completely out of our control – thunder and lightening storms –all we can do is sit and tremble in fear with our dogs.

Jazzfest - New Orleans Counterpoint

Can you drink the water there? You sure can! In fact, it’s the only water that I drink. That bottled Fiji and Icelandic water costs more than a drinkable Chardonnay, so I stick with what comes from the tap.

We’re talking New Orleans water here, not Costa Rica. We are completely off the grid there – we only drink our own well water and use solar power. And with the rolling blackouts occurring all over Costa Rica right now, our friends might not think we’re so crazy any more.

It’s Jazz Fest and the crowds are big. They’ve come to see

…Rod Stewart, Norah Jones, Jerry Lee Lewis, Brad Paisley, ZZ Top, Dr. John, Van Morrison, Charmaine Neville…

and oh how the list goes on! But if you want to hear the big names, you’ve got to get there early and mark out your spot by plopping down your chair. People with kids bring a blanket. If you leave and take your chair with you, then someone else is going to plop right down in your spot. When you want something to eat, send your husband out for the Muffulettas and Daiquiris – he’s the hunter. Pssst, guys, the hunting is half the fun and your wife will have a blast staying back and talking with all the neighbors.

However, if you arrive late, then you will get caught in the slooooow moving river of humanity. You will get caught in a very slow current going one way or the other and there’s little you can do about it but just go with the flow and bob your head to the music. We saw one woman with a baby stroller actually trying to move counter-flow by calling out “Sorry, stroller…sorry, stroller…” But nobody could do anything. There’s no moving against the flow.

A better strategy is to head over to one of the many smaller stages and listen to incredible jazz, funk and blues by some of the best talent New Orleans has to offer. You will be able to sit down in chairs provided inside the tent and there’s plenty of room to dance and Second-Line around the aisles. At the Economy Hall Tent, the crowd spends the whole day dancing and second-lining to guys like Pete Fountain and Leroy Jones. If all the chairs are taken when you arrive to listen to say, Kermit Ruffins and the Barbeque Swingers, just wait a few minutes. Soon, people will be getting up and moving on – hoping to catch somebody at another Stage, and you can move right in and sit down.

The day goes fast. When you’re moving from one Stage to another, there’s plenty of feasting and drinking to do along the way. There is no better culinary experience than just sampling all the food that New Orleans has to offer at Jazz Fest. It will take the entire two weekends to get through everything and it’s a lot easier than making reservations for dinner. I don’t think there is a festival anywhere in the country that offers better food.

So the day flies by and you soon queue up for the bus ride back to the Sheraton Hotel. Wherever you stay, remember that you need to walk to the Sheraton for the bus to Jazz Fest. It’s the easiest way if you haven’t marked out a parking spot in somebody’s front lawn many years ago. Some people just go to bed after a day at the Fest, but if you have the energy, come on down to the Quarter for the party! There’s music playing everywhere that goes on all night.

Forget about dining at the first-tier restaurants like Commander’s Palace, Brennan’s, etc….they’ve all been booked long in advance. You could try smaller, trendier restaurants of which there are many, but it’s going to be hectic. During Jazz Fest, we head over to our local spots near our flat between Iberville and Bienville.

After dinner, there are music clubs who feature people you missed earlier in the day and then there’s Bourbon Street for the huge, drinking party crowds. I always like a few minutes of Bourbon Street just for the amusement of the goofy costumes and to pet the horses that the police use for crowd control. If your feet ache from all the walking, you could always take a carriage ride through the Quarter and laugh at all the festivities in comfort.

Then it’s definitely time to get back and go to bed. It all starts over again tomorrow morning.

But wait a minute! What about all the crime? Yes, homicides occur regularly in New Orleans but the vast majority of them happen in neighborhoods that you’ve never heard of. One rare and notable exception happened in the Quarter a few days ago. Two apprenticed waiters at Antoines had an altercation and one of them left in an ambulance. The rest of the horrified waiters, nicely spiffed up in their white shirts and black ties, quickly cleaned up the mess before the doors opened for the dining public.

Got to go! It’s already 11AM and the Saturday crowds will be even bigger than they were yesterday!

Innocent of all Charges

First things first: Innocent of all Charges... As it should be… Justice was served… Which is not always a sure thing in Central America.

We were both relieved to put this trial behind us and, after some celebration and a long night of restful, desperately needed sleep, Gerry returned once again to our beloved New Orleans. He has taken an active interest in the rebuilding efforts and particularly the preservation of our neighborhood in the Vieux Carre.

But not so fast. Gerry has a job to do! During all the nine years we have been in Costa Rica, a chum of GRAK’s has been taking care of his arsenal, including his cherished antique shotguns and rifles. Mostly he just polishes and admires them but yes, Gerry is a sharp shooter, both at long range and in movement. He’s not much of a hunter though. The only animal I’ve ever seen him kill was a rabid raccoon back at our farm in Pennsylvania. One shot to the head from 30 meters and the raccoon went instantly from this cruel world to hopefully a better one. Gerry hates to see an animal suffer.

In any case, Gerry and Jim (AKA Spock) loaded the guns into Spock’s pickup truck and headed off for a road trip from Jim’s house in Bucks County, PA to our flat in New Orleans. En route, they will stop to visit pals in Baltimore and North Carolina. I just hope they don’t get arrested and thrown in jail for transporting firearms interstate. I can just see GRAK on CNN arrested as a terrorist. So many home-grown British ones these days and my goodness, here’s one of those murderous Brits on Stateside soil! And we have it on good word that the State Troopers in PA will arrest you even if you have an unopened bottle of good malt scotch visible from the back window of your car – especially if you have Canadian license plates. Yes there are many perils ahead for GRAK and Spock. At least they are not driving with Canadian license plates.

Meanwhile, I remain in Costa Rica, managing the construction and other issues out at Tigre. Many friends have asked us why the construction is taking so long. 18 months and counting! My God, one friend exclaimed, you should have fired them a year ago! My only response is – patience, patience. There is a reason for our madness. We have complete confidence in our architect, Luis Flores (AKA The Professor) and his seasoned team. We shall be moving into the Tigre house when we return from New Orleans on May 8th, just after Jazz Fest. The construction still won’t be done, but we will be living out at Tigre at last.

But yes, in the meantime, I am still sleeping at TexMex...

…And spending the days out at Tigre. Yesterday, Armando and I began designing the gardens nearest to the house and pool. We plan to plant several large, flowering trees in the pasture just below, which will provide us with quite a show some day, perhaps in 30 some years.

I asked Armando if he thought we would still be able to hike the way we do when we are 80+ years old. He didn’t have a doubt of it. Of course we would! It’s a matter of habit. If we hike regularly this way now, why should the routine change 30 years from now? Now that’s the sort of thing Polly would say!

As we were talking, suddenly we heard a large swarm of Africanized bees flying overhead. It was an unmistakable buzz that grew louder as it approached, bzzzz’ed overhead just above us and then slowly receded as the swarm continued its way east, searching for a place to build the new hive. As always, we grew silent as the bees passed by overhead. Respectful… Sending silent messages to spirit that they move on, away from the stables. They do…moving on towards the hamlet of Rodeo.

The above situation reminds me of the first time I felt an earthquake in Costa Rica. I was in a local greenhouse to buy some parsley plants when suddenly, the earth moved under my feet. It felt like a sudden jolt...jolt. I stood still, waiting. Then it passed and nothing more happened. I still wanted to buy that parsley. But it was impossible. From the instant of the first jolt, the shopkeeper woman began screaming and running all over the place, opening doors, screaming for her babies. I waited for a few minutes but finally left without buying the parsley. She obviously had experienced worse earthquakes than this one. It goes without saying that the Tigre house foundation extends deep, deep down. I once asked the construction workers: Why are you digging so deep for just a stairway? They looked at me like I was crazy. “For the earthquakes, Señora!”

It’s a humbling feeling, that in any second…but at the same time it reminds us to live each moment! Just in case shit happens – like earthquakes or hurricanes or Africanized bees. Africanized bees generally attack if you disturb them or get too close to their hive. Armando told me what to do it if attacked by Africanized bees:

“If you can, run into the house or jump into the pool. If you are close to a tree, run round and round it fast as you can. The circular motion confuses the bees and they start to fly up and away from you – allowing you to run off in a zig zag. If you don’t have a tree to run around in circles, then run zig-zag protecting just your eyes with your arm and don’t ever give up. Never fall down or roll. That might work if you’re on fire but not for the bees. Too many of them…You have to outrun them.”

We continued our way down the Guayabon trail to find some flowering vines to reproduce for the garden. We figure that if the vines do well in the forest, then they will do brilliantly in our composted soil back in the gardens. Yes, even if I never ride my horses ever again, I shall still keep them for their treasured manure – what we call black gold! We found a lovely variety of the Petrea volubilis – in full glorious bloom and also a yellow variety of Pyrostegia (Bignoniac.). The red P.venusta species is everywhere but not seen a yellow one before. We also found a ton of Lorito seeds (Cojoba arborea) but we were too late for the Ceibo verde (Pseudobombax septenatum). We did note that new Ceibo verde leaves unfold reddish as opposed to Ceiba pentandra leaves, which start fresh-green. It’s so awesome when the deciduous trees leaf out. It reminds me of spring-time in the north, but here in the tropics, the fresh new leaves add tonal texture to the darker, more brilliant evergreens, such as the Ficus, Jorco, Ajoche, Urucas, etc. By the way, the Tabebuias- Cortez Amarillo and Roble de la Sabana are in full mouth-dropping bloom. Also blooming: Jacaranda, Poro (smaller ones), Cassia fistula and a slew of flowering vines.

It started to rain a bit earlier this season than usual so we lost some of the seeds which fell to earth back in February. Interesting… It’s been raining regularly now at Tigre but very little or no rain back in Ciudad Colon or Santa Ana. I believe that when the Clay Colored Robins call for rain, they have a lot more success if they live in the forest. I have seen it with my own eyes and have VERIFIED this now 3 times this past month. Rain falls first in the forest. In our case, the clouds come in from the west and just start getting darker and lower as they roll into Tigre. It takes a few more weeks before the rain finally extends to the dry, dusty city areas. This is well known already but gratifying to confirm. Yes! The forest is contributing a watershed to humanity!

Walking Spirits?

We used to think of fallen trees in terms of loss and sadness for a beloved tree. Now we see it as a great opportunity. I was out hiking today with Forestry Engineers Manuel Viquez and Yamileth (and all the children) when we came across a large fallen tree - a Nispero. We all became quite excited because, in the great battle in the forest, a clearing to the sun is a coveted dream of every struggling forest tree trying to survive. We shall be able to use the fallen Nispero in many ways at the Finca and, at first glance around the newly sunny clearing, could recognize seedlings of Jorco (Garcinia intermedia), Calophyllum, Cenizaro, Ingas, more Nisperos and a bunch of pioneer trees. What a thrill!

One of the smaller branches became Barry's new walking stick. A few weeks ago, I broke Barry's beautifully painted walking stick into two pieces. How did I manage that? I whacked the ground with it just in front of our dog, Spotty, who at that moment was straddling and tearing into one of our chickens. A bewildered Barry reported afterwards - never get her mad! Needless to say, I felt terrible about it so asked Armando to repair his stick. By the way, both chicken and dog survived the incident. Armando tried gluing Barry's walking stick back together but realized that it was made of a soft wood, probably Guazuma. We decided to make Barry a new walking stick. Armando crafted one out of the fallen hardwood and heat dried it to make it lightweight yet very strong. This very fine walking stick is a work of indigenous art and superior function. This stick goes to Barry.

But the excitement of the fallen Nispero wasn't the only highlight of my hike with Manuel and Yamileth! We took the new trail into the old forest, which Armando had just finished this past season and soon came across an area of rocks that seemed arranged in concentric circles. Armando already knew of this place and conjectured that it was once a tool-making daycamp for indigenous people in the past. Manuel began searching amonst the rocks and soon discovered proof - a rock that clearly had been worked upon and probably discarded when it broke. Then we found another rock that looked like it had been fashioned into a large stone mortar. Now we were really excited and discussed how the Huetar people might have used the site. We imagined a group of guys sitting around, make tools together and talking just like modern guys now do on the tennis court and back at the locker room.

Armando reminded us of the time, many years ago while still a child, he came across a large, stone, animal crafted bench at the indigenous cemetary, located near the Tigre waterfalls. Next day, he returned with a friend to show him but the stone animal had disappeared. The locals describe this phenomenon as the 'walking spirits' trying to escape the humans. Did the stone walk away or was it pilfered? We don't know but I decided to hedge by bets. All stone work will remain in situ (for future archaeologists), and we will carefully screen who we take to the indigenous remains at Tigre. Thankfully, most hikers just view the sites as a common place pile of rocks so the spirits should be appeased.

We were so excited about the stone workers that we nearly missed a rare variety of Vanilla orchid vines climbing about a fallen tree. This was big news for my Forest Engineering friends because their latest mission (and they have many - elmundoforestal.com) is to rescue rare orchids and other epiphytes from the dry forest and reproduce them. We quickly made a deal. Manuel could take one complete Orchid vine, complete with root (it's hemi-epiphytic) and return to me some potted Vanilla ornamentals plants complete with trellis. Done! We shook hands on the deal and continued exploring the new trail.

And then,
WE FOUND A NEW SPECIES!!!
Actually, the species had already been identified - Diospyros digyna (Ebenaceae) - but it was the first time we had come across it at Tigre. Locals call it Sapote Negro or Mabola and it's known for its edible fruit and shiny seeds. While discussing the properties of this beautiful tree, my favorite dog Flopsy came over and began eating the fallen fruit - he clearly like it! And he's not dead yet! Also on the new trail, we also came across more Nispero (Manilkara chicle), Roble Coral (Terminalia amazonia), Ron Ron (Astronium graveolens), Ojoche Colorado (Brosimum colorado) and a bunch more already described elsewhere.

As we finished our hike, we discussed plans for documenting the new trails with GPS waypoints on AutoCad and making some new maps. We also have plans for gridding out the charrales and young forests for work into the future. Manuel and Armando will begin this work soon after I leave Costa Rica for New Orleans.

Yes - I leave TexMex and Costa Rica behind on April 8th and join Gerry in New Orleans for the upcoming Vieux Carre and Jazz Fests. Talk about a counterpoint to tropical forestry!

Now, for all you GRAK fans,
TODAY IS THE DAY!
Gerry returned to court this afternoon for his final session in this trial. I tried to go with him -even had a charming 'supportive wife' outfit all picked out - but he preferred that I stay here. He would have enough support from his entourage of lawyers and colleagues. Will Gerry manage to stay out of jail? Only the Costa Rican Judge knows for sure. If all goes well, then Gerry flies back out of Costa Rica tomorrow and returns to his beloved New Orleans.

I shall remain here at TexMex and deal with construction out at Tigre until April 8th, when I will finally join him. Si dios permite.

The Morning After

There is nothing more joyous than a walk in a tropical forest the morning after the first drenching rain - after more than 4 months of drought. Armando is half indigenous and very much a man of few words. In fact, more than once he's looked at me kind of startled when I've launched into trivial small talk with him. Women talk more than men in general but pair a gregarious North American with an indigenous Costa Rican, and you've got both extremes. We generally speak very much to the point - when to gather Lonchocarpus seeds or how to plant living fence rows... and then silence. Well that morning after the first rain, we were both silent with wonder.

We could both sense a dramatic change in the forest. Everything seemed more alive and the air around us felt charged with happy energy. The rain woke up the forest from a long slumber and we could feel the effects of this huge surge of energy all around us. Everything was cleaner and greener. It was truly a memorable walk at El Tigre.

Later, after climbing out much refreshed and invigorated, I went to the airport to pick up Gerry, who was returning back to Costa Rica for....you guessed it!

Gerry goes back to court! We cleaned his suit and had him looking quite respectable for his appearance at the Tribunales. He stayed in Costa Rica only for the court appearance and flew right back out again the next day. In fairness, he had commitments previously arranged but it sure looked like he was keen to get back to New Orleans. The good news is his final court date takes places next Monday. Will he manage to stay out of jail? Stay tuned... For those of you who would like more details about Gerry's trial, you can email him directly. BigEasyGrak@hotmail.com
Just remember to copy me because he only looks at his hotmail account when it suits him.

In any case, back on that day while waiting for Gerry at the airport, I greeted a young woman carrying one of those huge backpacks like the kind that kids haul around Europe doing their Europass tour. I pegged this kid as a volunteer and sure enough, Jenna was waiting for someone to pick her up. Her pickup was late but that's nothing unusual so when Gerry came out of arrivals, I bid her well and off I went with Gerry.

Well about 2 hours later, just as we were sitting down to lunch, Jenna shows up at the TexMex. She had waited at the airport for nearly 3 hours but nobody showed up for her. As you can imagine, she was rattled, especially since she couldn't speak any Spanish. So how did Jenna end up at the Tex Mex of all places rather than say, the Hampton Inn? Let's just call it 6 Degrees of Separation.

It was Sunday and we couldn't reach anyone and at that point, Jenna was of the mind to just get on the next flight back to New York. Forget volunteering! She just wanted to get out of Costa Rica. Luckily, thanks to Abby, who happened to arrive at TexMex for lunch just after Jenna, we managed to connect the dots. Turns out, the American Agency gave the wrong date and the Costa Ricans never expected Jenna until May. But the locals really came through for her at short notice and she left us all smiles to help with the Turtle program in Cahuita. Of course, we couldn't resist taking Jenna out to Tigre for a quick look. She will notice the huge difference between the two forests.

And yes, we are still living at the Tex Mex.

I Work at an Insane Asylum

We have a houseful of guests tonight at TexMex. After reasonable tranquility all these weeks, suddenly every room at the Inn is occupied.

Usually, I avoid other guests because they are either weird or just plain tedious. However, when I approached the cappuccino machine yesterday morning, I came across a group of young, healthy looking American kids that looked friendly. We began talking and immediately connected. I started showing them how to make coffee and asked them the usual expatriate question, “So, where are you from?”

“Michigan”, came the reply.

“Michigan! What part of Michigan are you from?”

“Kalamazoo”, said the twenty-something redhead kid.

“ I’m from Kalamazoo too! And I’ve got a T-Shirt to prove it! ‘Yes, There Really IS a Kalamazoo’.

So lots of back patting and reminiscing ensued and we had a nice coffee together. We were from different generations but felt like long lost cousins! Since then, those Kalamazoo kids have been out non-stop partying – thanks to a ‘host’ sister and her party-hardy Costa Rican tribe. The Kalamazoo Kids drank a lot of espresso this morning and the redhead declared himself off the booze forever. Yeah sure, that will last until about 6PM tonight!

I told them that the Flying Borracho Brothers would be playing at Tex Mex tonight and invited them to stop by. Maybe. They said they would definitely-maybe pop in as soon as they got back from This-Or-That Disco Club. No way. Those Kazoo Kids won’t get back until after 3AM – just like last night. And I suspect that the Borracho Brothers and their lively crowd will be back home in bed asleep. Something about different generations, but who knows? Stay tuned!

Meanwhile….
A pair of ‘Easy Riders’ from the upper Midwest stayed at TexMex a few days back. I avoided them – definitely not my cup of tea - but Gerry and Dr. Bob had a few words with them as they checked out. It was their first trip to Costa Rica and their plan was to ride their Harleys all over the country to sightsee and have some fun with the Ticas. First stop was Jaco. Dr. Bob admonished them to be careful out there. The horrible Costa Rican roads and insane drivers have produced a lot of accidents – and the bad ones almost always involve motorcycles. Easy Riders nodded indifferently and left.

Gerry turned to Dr. Bob and said, “Guess we will see those guys at CIMA Hospital!”

“Yeah”, Bob replied, “Maybe we ought to reserve a room for them right now!”

Well this is a bizarre coincidence, but not more than two hours out on the road, one of the Easy Riders skidded out of control at a curve. He sustained blunt trauma on an ankle and required some 24 stitches for cuts on his elbow and knee. And the worst of it was that he didn’t even get taken to CIMA – The 5 star version of a private hospital. Instead, the ambulance took him to the Social Security Public Hospital, San Juan de Dios. It was absolute bedlam there and the injured Easy Rider couldn’t speak any Spanish. The only English speaker they could find was a very busy physician who just didn’t have time to take care of him. His injuries weren’t life threatening so he just had to lay there in pain until they finally patched him up and sent him back home to ….

You guessed it! Back home to TexMex. Poor fellow. On the first day of his first trip to Costa Rica, he ends up with a cast on his leg. But on the bright side, he can join the crowd for the Flying Borracho Brothers tonight!

Dr. Bob just walked by and declared:

“I work at an Insane Asylum!”

I was holding a ‘Ward off Monkey’ Taiji pose at the time so not sure if his comment related to me or to his other guests.

So Where is Gerry in all this goofy mix?
Gerry left Costa Rica today for New Orleans. Yep, and leaving me here with all the construction. His original plan was not to return until May 10th. Well that pesky trial has ruined his plans once again. He has to return back here for a court appearance on March 20th. He’s furious about that and only plans to fly in for the court date and right back out to New Orleans.

Why is it so important that Gerry has to be in New Orleans? So important that he would even miss out on a British Birthday Party tomorrow for the Four Horsemen? Actually, it’s War and Death having the party. Pestilence AKA David Scott is in Jaco and Gerald AKA Famine needs to be in New Orleans. Why? Because Gerald AKA Famine needs to take delivery of his beloved Chesterfield Sofa, which arrives around the 22nd.

Tomorrow I hike down to the waterfalls for a bit of Tigre centering.