Why Swim Home to New Orleans?

When some say it will someday sink underwater like Atlantis! Thank God for the scuba gear!


When corruption is so widespread that…

…the local Navy intelligence is reputed to treat New Orleans like a 3rd world country (i.e. no sharing of info with local officials).
… voters keep reelecting the same guy that the feds found $90,000 in his refrigerator.
…ACORN is based here.
… corrupt councilmen refuse to name names of other corrupt councilmen because squealing on the mates is dishonorable.
…our Mayor is most famous for wise-cracks, like, my all time favorite – “I’m sick of helicopters overhead – I want to hear some jazz!”

Go to the Times-Picayune for the scandal du jour on the usual elected suspects. Hey! Kind of like the Scandal du Jour in La Nacion back in Costa Rica. Guess we all love what we know best!

Why swim home to New Orleans?

Well, where else would we go? From sea to shining sea there is no place like it! It’s not just the cuisine, music, art and entertainment to suit all tastes. It’s the people, the atmosphere, the joie du vivre and what else?

You shall just have to come on down and see for yourself! But remember, as a Costa Rican fan of jazz fest said of his more cynical friends – “If you come to the Big Easy looking for maggots, you will find them.”

Hey, you with the Ponytail! Have you got ID?

That was the scowling bartender yelling at me, as I took my first sip from the glass of wine that Carolyn had just bought me. That was it. She was serious. We were getting kicked out of the bar!

What could I say? All I could do was laugh, get up from my seat and walk out of there - along with about 15 other Obiters. We hastily poured our drinks in plastic cups and walked out en masse.

Now, I might have been wearing a girlish ponytail but, believe me, I, and everybody else in our party, looked - if maybe not acted - the 50 something that we all are! And yes, it was hysterical being tossed out of a bar for not having ID…

The group had dwindled somewhat from the big crowd that had gathered earlier at the Ohm Lounge in the Royal Charles Hotel for our first cocktail. This was a big night. The Grand & Secret Order of the Obituary Cocktail was embarking on a night of bar-hopping along the St. Charles Streetcar line. It was a large, raucous crowd that queued up for the Streetcar, unfinished cocktails in hand of course, as we all piled aboard, to the quizzical looks of commuters and tourists alike. I sat next to a woman sporting a martini glass tiara, a bit bleary-eyed, after just finishing her birthday lunch at Galatoire’s Restaurant. We all know that Friday lunches at Galatoire’s so easily turn into all-day affairs, and it was now well after 6pm...

The birthday girl had heard of us Obiters, but had never seen the crowd in action until watching us climb aboard that Streetcar and, a few minutes later, honor her with a rousing rendition of ‘Happy Birthday to You’. Well, we managed to make good friends with everybody on board by the time we got off at our first stop - The Column’s Hotel - a beautiful place, where many of our crowd decided to settle in for the rest of the night.

Thus, we were far fewer in number when we departed an hour or so later for our next stop - Delachaise - and then lost more of the crowd when we departed later on for another Streetcar ride down to The Avenue Pub. This is where the absurdity really began. You can’t make this stuff up. I mentioned before, that about fifteen of us rolled in there, and were welcomed immediately by the bartender with the warm greeting, “You’ll need ID to get served in here! This is a video-poker bar”! We hooted at her joke and some of us sat down, while the others lined up to get served. We never carry ID with us around town, but we soon realized that the bartender wasn’t just flattering us or joking! She would not serve anyone - not even the really old wrinklies - without proper ID. I saw Gerry arguing with her up there, to no avail, but we finally got drinks from others in our party who did have ID and who kindly bought us our badly needed libations. But no, just as I took my first sip, she roused the entire bar when she yelled and pointed at me, “Hey, you with the Ponytail…!”

Well, we all found it just hysterical, getting thrown out of The Avenue Pub, and so remained in good humor (the prior beverages helped, of course). After all, in New Orleans, it’s perfectly legal to walk down the street with cocktails in hand (in plastic, not glass) so that’s exactly what we did, laughing at the whole thing and talking to the lawyers in the group - can bars legally throw out ‘senior citizens’ for not having ID? All our (admittedly not very sharp at that point in the evening…) legal minds could do was laugh at it some more. So we ended up over at Zea’s for a bite to eat. But those of us with plastic cups were not allowed in there either - tossed out of two bars within 10 minutes! Is that a record…?


It was obviously time to catch the Streetcar back to the French Quarter, where all is allowed - and then some. So we ate ravenously at Felipe’s Taqueria (excellent Margaritas to boot) and went home contentedly to bed.

P.S. Got an email today from somebody who was with us that night, about how everybody was meeting up at the Kirk apartment for Halloween. Apparently, after my third cocktail, I’d invited the whole gang over to watch the ‘Krewe of Boo’ parade down the street past our place! Better go buy some crackers and scrounge up a costume…

Fly Season Over!

Horses at Peace. Season lasted longer than normal but finally ended, making riding and pasture living glorious once again. We have all learned much, especially observed how horses themselves find repellant measures - like lots of mud baths! Hmmmm...
In any case all experiments - always on myself first - with fly & mosquito repellant now postponed until next season, expected around July, 2009.
Of course we would prefer to hope that the flies never return ever again but that's asking too much - insects of all sorts are part of forest living.

GRAK now busy with our immediate departure to New Orleans. All is well there so far. It's been a busy hurricane season and we so feel Galveston's pain...

Brujas de Escazu

A touch of Tigre Magic: A basketful of YELLOW LEMONS! We have three varieties of Yellow Lemons growing at Tigre. Most sour lemons available in Costa Rica come in green or even orange colors – rarely the classic yellow lemon, like you can find in the States.


Gerald often introduces me to people as, “a Pharmacist, turned Botanist, turned Witch”…
Well the truth is, I studied Botany, worked as a Licensed Pharmacist and now…
…play as a Witch. I play with herbs to work magic - healing, culinary, fly-repellents.
And in my quest to find a more effective horse-fly repellent for my beloved horses, I decided to review the whole area of ‘essential oils’. So, a few weeks ago, I attended an all-day Aromatherapy Workshop (“Aromaterapia: Exploracion a traves de los Sentidos”), led by Maria Fernandez - www.aromaflor.com . Maria conducted her Aromatherapy Taller in Escazu - a city known for Witches!
Locals know lots of legends about the Brujas de Escazu. Rosemary Rein gives talks on all the Costa Rican Legends - including the Brujas.

So I showed up for Maria’s Taller, and the first order of business was to meet everyone else in the group that day. We came from very different worlds: architect, life coach, accountant, physical/massage therapists, business people and others - all of them beautiful both inside and out, and all united in aromatherapy. I felt honored to find myself with such fascinating people. Maria described it as synchronicity - a group of women (and one man - a farmer, like me) coming together to learn a few of the ancient ways, by using our senses and, particularly, the primitive sense of smell.

Maria guided us through the Fragrance World in every sense/scent of the term. She helped us shift and center to Mind-Heart-Spirit, while also providing a review on distillation and compounding of essential oils extracted from plants. The Workshop then shifted from the spiritual/technical to the practical and, soon thereafter, we all got caught up in producing our own personal fragrances: for example, to energize, to relax, to entice or, in my case at least, to repel blood-sucking insects…

Everyone got involved, using all our senses to help each other: experimenting, suggesting, sharing, improving, synergizing, melding. At one point, as aromas filled the air all around us - Frankincense, Lavender, Conifer, Cedar wood, Citrus, Ylang Ylang, Eucalyptus, Patchouli - exotic fragrances all blending together in the air - it just caught us up and we all connected, concocting magic potions - like a coven of Witches in Escazu!

Thank you Maria Fernandez and, also, your charming Treasurer, General Helper, and daughter, Kristine, for a special day of filling up all the senses, centering, chakras…
…and for helping me concoct a wonderful new fly-repellent formula for the horses. I am conducting experiments right now - always on myself first. You very rightly reminded us of the first principle of Hippocrates -
- do no harm.

In other news,
Eddie the Beagle now has an official Novia. Her name is Chispa - a tiny zaguate less than half his size. Eddie loves to maul his girl, Chispa, all lovey-dovey, paws all over her. Chispa somehow puts up with her brutish boy and they sleep together, sometimes with Lula, all together in Eddie’s dog house outside on the terrace.
The stork has made the rounds again this year at El Tigre and environs. Jose’s wife, Marcia, is expecting her second child next April, and Armando’s daughter, Elena, is also expecting, all to the great joy of the Quiros-Parra clans here in Rodeo.
Armando has found the female Mora tree (Maclura tinctoria). Botanists - remember to ask him when you visit. It’s not easy to find and no longer fruiting. And yes, we have ONE plant sprouting from the last attempt to plant seeds.
Trees in El Tigre Gardens Now Fruiting: A slew of citrus of all sorts, sour and sweet; bananas as usual; and, also, Guayabas(Psidiums), Jocotes (Spondias purpura), and Jobos (S. mombin)
And in the Forest: Randia sps., Byrsonima crassifolia, Miconia sps., Bursera simarouba, Albizia niopoides, Acosmium panamense, Cassia and Senna sps., Inga sps., Siparuma sp. (f. Monimiac.), Thevetia sp., Godmanii sp.
High season for Higueron fruit expected mid-October... Plan your bird outings!

Obituary Cocktail, 2008 - Mexico

We all met for cocktails on Friday, at the usual time of 6 p.m., at the Hotel Casa de la Sierra Nevada, Parque Juarez, in San Miguel de Allende. Normally, ‘The Grande and Secret Order of the Obituary Cocktail’ meets for cocktails on Fridays somewhere in New Orleans - there are enough fascinating saloons in the Vieux Carre alone to keep us from circling back around to the same place much before two or three years of Fridays, although we do have a few favorites that get requested every year, like Tujagues. However, every year, our fearless Obit leader, John Murphy (who only occasionally imbibes alcoholic beverages himself) also organizes an Obituary Cocktail somewhere else in the world, outside of New Orleans. Last year, the gang went to China and reputedly had a blast.

This year, John set up the ‘Travelling Obit’ for Mexico, and the location was such a hit, that Obiters actually planned a full month of Obit Fridays there, starting July 15th , culminating in The Official Travelling Obituary Cocktail on August 8th at the Casa de la Sierra Nevada. We were there, with a big, boisterous crowd from New Orleans, and we met some great new people: Eleanor, the Irish nurse, who landed in New Orleans 20 years ago; my new friend, Carolyn, a New Orleans area Emergency Room physician; and her fascinating brother from Wichita, Kansas, to name just a few.
We are now all gung-ho to visit Wichita - not just to pass through on the way to skiing in Colorado either! Maybe Obit 2009?

John and Karen Murphy graciously hosted us in a beautiful house up in the Balcones Barrio - yes, as in a balcony neighborhood up the mountain overlooking the charming colonial town of San Miguel de Allende. We could taxi between the town and the house, but John preferred walking up the mountain. What a hiker he is. He wore us all out, but it kept us in shape (relatively…) and very much deserving of - a cocktail! By the way, Obituary Cocktail is named after a cocktail invented in New Orleans (like so many others): a Martini with a dash of Absinthe (which is now legally sold again, thanks to the intrepid, persistent lobbying of a New Orleanian, of course).

After leaving San Miguel, we spent a few days in Mexico City - I especially wanted to return to see the incredible Anthropology Museum after renovations a few years back. Gerald drove around Mexico City, with all the unpronounceable Aztec name road signs, with the same aplomb as he did in Wales (equally unpronounceable place names, although in a totally different way…). Except this was Mexico City - a big sprawling capital city, with Chaos, Contamination and Secuestros. I admit sitting next to him at times, as he drove merrily along, with my mouth dry with fear. Como si nada for Gerald. He did have to ask directions a few times to get us to the Presidente Intercontinental, but prudently only stopped to talk to police officers - yeah, possibly part of a gang, but the street taxi drivers are even less safe. We had a fun time in Mexico City though - great food and incredible museums, especially if you have an interest in Mexican history and archaeology.

We returned home last night, and I recovered from the Distrito Federal by eating a basketful of citrus - a nice assortment of lemons, limes and oranges. It was so good to get back home again. Everything was okay at Tigre, except that Flopsy had been bitten by a snake. After Samantha died from a Terciopelo bite a little while ago, we got more organized. William (one of the builders) noticed Flopsy reacting to the bite - somersaulting and howling in pain - and Janet and Jose jumped into action. They got Flopsy to the Vet and an IV started with serum in less than 45 minutes. When Gerald went to pay the Vet, Jorge said that he didn’t think it was a normal Terciopelo bite - else little Flopsy would almost certainly have died; perhaps a less venomous snake, or even a baby Terciopelo. Normally, the cats kill baby snakes, and Jose and the other guys take care of the adults, but you can never be sure - it’s definitely a jungle out there…

When we first bought Reserva El Tigre in 2004, Jose, Hugo and Armando killed well over 40 Terciopelos in the charral below the gardens (they produce around 90 eggs at a time!). We put a bounty on them and, the next year, the number dropped to the low teens. Last year, Jose only killed a few down in the charral and also a Coral Snake that moved in too close to Janet’s apartment. The reason for this, besides simple elimination, is that the guys have also reduced the breeding grounds near the house. We keep the gardens and trails groomed and tidy - sometimes too tidy, however.

I went down the main trail today, and noticed that they had cut back some plants that I had hoped to see in bloom - two piper species and a Kohleria species in the Gesneriaceae family. The latter was just about to bloom as we left for Mexico but I wanted to nail the species, so I went down there today to take pictures - and found them all cut back by Hugo’s machete… Apparently, they were growing too close to the horse trails where Jose tries to eliminate Terciopelo breeding sites. Thus, I agreed (grudgingly) that he did the right thing - safety first.

However, apart from the slaughtered plants, I had much entertainment in store. The horses all looked great, despite the fly season. The citronella cream helps them a lot, and I only saw a fly here and there. Thankfully, the fly season (most intense in July - Mid August) is coming to an end and we will have a respite until next year. Meanwhile, I hope to develop, before the next fly season, a longer-lasting repellent ointment for the horses. It’s a matter of ‘trial and error’, learning lessons, and then more trial and error…

All the other animals are fine - our ancient Persian cat, Fea (named so, as Gerald likes to say, because she is…) is still with us, and Eddie the Beagle is doing just great! He follows me everywhere. Now, I find myself hiking with 3 to 5 dogs: Flopsy (always), Lula, Chispa, Spotty and Eddie and sometimes Sol. Tigger and Zinc rarely ever hike any more, and the only cat who comes with us is Grisela. And she only joins us if Eddie doesn’t, and Eddie almost always comes now, so poor Grisela is gaining weight again.

Eddie is a smart dog, contrary to popular belief… He doesn’t bark at the monkeys. And now that the other dogs - especially Spotty - have stopped barking at the monkeys too, I can observe them, and be observed, in peace. They actually observe me a lot more than I observe them. As it should be! I understand White-Faced monkeys from several sources that I’ve read. But the monkeys have not read anything, and can only understand me better by observing me. I first noticed being observed by a monkey several weeks ago. Not the whole tribe - just a male moving along behind me. I detect his presence by a snapped twig and for a second can see him - before he drops his head behind the foliage and, thus, becomes completely camouflaged. But I know he’s there - and he knows that I know. The rest of the tribe, including the females and babies, normally just ignore other mammalian species, and go about their business grooming each other and eating whatever fruit is in season.

The exception is when humans happen to stop for a snack below the particular tree that the monkeys want to sit in and eat fruit - like the huge Ficus tree down by Tiger Hill. If I sit with the dogs quietly some distance away from the fig tree, the monkeys will feed quietly and we kind of observe each other. However, if the guys insist upon sitting directly under the tree while taking their breakfast break, then the monkeys will shriek at them and throw fig seeds and branches down at them. One time Hugo came back and said, “My God, those damned monkeys wouldn’t let us sip our coffee in peace - shrieks and branches crashing down all around us!”
The monkeys never shriek or rabblerouse at me. Sometimes I can hear them “eerrrrk” quietly to each other - probably saying something like, “It’s okay, this human controls her dogs…”

While I’m happily out in the forest, Gerald is busy managing the construction and admin; and booking flights for us back to New Orleans. He can’t leave the country before his residency papers have been renewed on September 26th but I imagine it won’t be more than a few days afterwards that we’re flying back to the Vieux Carre. He found a great fare for only $410 just before we left for Mexico - I thought the fare was too good to be true, considering the oil price increases earlier this summer- so we wanted to lock it in as soon as possible. Turns out the great fare was only out-going, for a one-way-ticket…
The phone line was really bad when he explained this to me, and all I could hear was that he was purchasing a one-way ticket back to New Orleans. The call got disconnected at that point and I really panicked! I know he’s sick of eating in Janet’s kitchen, with animals and kids, but our kitchen will be done as soon as the weather improves and the carpenter can finish the cabinets without staining them with humidity…
Luckily, he returned home and explained what he really meant: that the fare for the roundtrip will cost us over $900 each. Now I’m howling about the expense but he won’t hear it. We’re going, y punto.

Walkers and Hikers

Photo from last Saturday: Kids and dogs hike the Waterfalls at El Tigre

We learned how to categorize hikers while on the ship, Mare Australis, going around Tierra del Fuego, through the Straits of Magellan, and up the Beagle Channel to Punta Arenas, Chile. En route, twice daily, almost everyone, except the most hung-over of passengers, ferried over to the glaciers on Zodiac boats. There, the crew divided the passengers into groups: first by language - English, French and Spanish - and then again by ‘walker type’. Advanced Walkers got to scramble up onto the glaciers, Intermediate Walkers did the botanical walks on trails and, finally, there were those who didn’t walk at all - coined by GRAK as “Johnny Walkers” - who stayed back at the beach, sipping whiskey over glacier ice!

We ran into fellow Horseman, War (aka Tim Hodgson), on the day we disembarked. I just happened to glance out the window and saw - “My God, it’s an Englishman” - a tall, lanky fellow, with cape billowing in the wind. War couldn’t get passage with us, so settled for the next cruise out. As a fellow sailor, we introduced our mate to the Captain and got him seated at the Captain’s Table. However, he told us later that the passengers seated at the other tables had a lot more fun! Mare Australis attracts an international group of interesting, mostly fit people. Having said that, on some days, we were Advanced Walkers but, on other days, we weren’t up for walking at all. The difference mostly depended on what had happened the night before, as the party scene continued every night, all cruise long. We met a German athlete on his way to hike a mountain in Antarctica, and this guy did it all - partied all night and managed to get up at dawn every morning in time to catch the Zodiac over to the glaciers. At the other extreme, a few people never even left the ship. But most of us fell someplace in between.

That’s how it is with hiking, it depends on how you feel - perhaps a twinge in the knee - and you may not feel up to the hike that you’d scheduled to do with a group of friends.

No problem. At El Tigre, all the hikes are beautiful. In fact, some pals don't walk at all - they just settle down on the terrace with binoculars and spend the morning quite splendidly, just looking around at what comes calling in the gardens. Rainy season is the best time of the year for butterflies (in the dry season, they are mostly up in the trees or in other stages of butterfly life) but birding is always awesome. Dry season brings in the migrants passing through from the north, as well as the usual residents. And there are a slew of them!

In any case, fellow hiker, Abby, put it best - categorizing Hikes and Hikers is relative, and depends on your perspective. What’s Easy for Armando, like scrambling about the Waterfalls, is actually an Advanced Hike - only for fit hikers who feel at ease scaling mountains and rock climbing. The Waterfalls is actually my favorite hike and I love to go down there whenever possible. We just went down there the other day with the kids and three of the dogs, and had a blast. I have observed that kids have natural balance and can skip over rocks with the greatest of ease - sickening, isn’t it…

Do you have natural balance? I don’t - as Gerald loves to point out whenever we foxtrot together - but the Taijiquan and dancing lessons helped me a lot. Natural balance - dancers, surfers, snow boarders…

You do need natural balance to go along with us on the Advanced Hikes at El Tigre. We also go off-trail, with Armando roughing out the route in front of us with a machete. I have a group of girlfriends who love to go out exploring, even if it means returning home filthy and scuffed up: Robin Emigh, Penny Houghton, Kathryn Tanzi, Leigh Moynihan, Beth Crane, to name just a few. Beth and I hiked and botanized everywhere - even in forbidden places, like on a golf course. One time, her husband yelled at us to get off the golf course, when he spotted us botanizing out there around the seventh hole at Los Suenos. We sped off in the golf-cart, numerous leafy specimens scattering in our wake. But, another time, she played one of her best games while botanizing with me - so there, Greg. If only the husbands knew how we girls used to ramble all over the place, sometimes getting into trouble.

After a few accidents at El Tigre, Gerald began accusing me of trying to kill off all my friends. So I decided to make most of our hikes ‘intermediate hikes’ - strenuous but not scary. The guys have improved the trails, and we’ve taken other steps to minimize injuries.

But, a hike is a hike, and if you arrive at El Tigre feeling a twinge in your knee and not feeling up to, say, hiking down to the Mines, please just let me know! I am basically a lazy person, and will only too happily send your husband and other pals with Armando, while we go and enjoy the views over at Tiger Hill, or just stroll in the gardens and meet up with the other hikers at the swimming pool.

So what type of hiker is Gerald? Well, we’ve rambled all over: Torres del Paine; Patagonia; Highland Scotland; the English Lake District, where Wordsworth inspired me to return home to PA and plant a hillside of Daffodils; and many other fascinating places. However, the main thing that unites all of these hikes is that there is always a pub at the end of it. Gerald has hiked for hours, across miles of footpaths, in even the foulest of weather (I’ll never forget how he hauled us all the way up to Hadrian’s Wall in gale force winds) to reach - a pub he’d read about somewhere.

However, as there are no pubs at Reserva El Tigre and, after hiking, we always end up back in the housekeeper’s kitchen with the cats and various other fauna, what type of Walker do you think Gerald is here at the Finca?

People often ask me how we can keep all the animals around here in harmony. Normally, dogs and cats are at war. Well, it’s not harmony so much as a dynamic state of flux. Just look at where I come from. Even now, Mom and Cyril are planning their move from Michigan down to Florida in a van, together with, as mother says, “Picture this!” - Van occupants: Mom and Cy, 6 dogs, 2 birds, a new kitten (Avi their late, beloved, Maine Coon Cat is still very much missed), and Grandpa (now 93 years old!). My brother Al will drive them down in the van but, afterwards, will return back to Michigan. Some of the clan still likes the cold, but it was Cy’s last winter in Michigan after losing his big toe last winter.

And it’s a great buyers’ housing market right now, so they bought a house in Florida. And the whole animal herd will move with them and, of course, grandpa, who very much looks forward to it. However, I shall very much miss sitting in the hot-tub with Cy and grandpa back in Michigan, dogs lolling about all around.

Of Dogs and Kids

Kids play with Eddie in the hay barn. From left: Geovanna, Karla, Eddie the Beagle, and Danny.

In the Dog World, there are two kinds of people: ‘Dog People’ and ‘Not Dog People’. Everyone here at Reserva El Tigre is a ‘Dog Person’.

Currently, we have 8 dogs, now that Eddie the Beagle has been accepted into the pack. Eddie came to us last week from a very nice, French-speaking family who named him, Idée Fixée - Fixed Idea. They soon learned that Idée Fixée was ‘fixed’ on having lots of fun all day long! But he quickly grew into a bit of a handful for their small children. So they needed to find a home for their beloved pup that would give him a chance to run and play all day long! Somehow, through six-degrees-of-separation, especially S.A.S.Y.*, Idée Fixée landed at Reserva El Tigre.
And the Yank in the household renamed him Eddie. With my appalling accent (my Parisian boss in Madrid once begged me never to speak French again in his presence), Idée and Eddie sound mas o menos the same.

Normally, we only adopt mixed-breed dogs - muts, zaguates - because they are healthy, sweet and easy to train. We made an exception in accepting a Beagle because we thought he would fit into the pack - not too big, not too fragile and easy to train.

But, boy oh boy, is Eddie a handful! Yes mom, you are so right - Eddie is not for small children. He is rambunctious, avidly curious, and wants to play with any species at all! Gracias a Dios, the children are home on a two-week school vacation - they can help train and play with Eddie. The kids belong to the resident employees and are aged 12, 10, and 6 - perfect for romping with the dogs. And that’s what they’ve been doing pretty much non-stop since Eddie arrived last Saturday. Kids and dogs: hiking, walking, swimming, football, romping…
…Eddie even went along with them horseback riding this morning. The kids had to cut the ride short when they turned around and saw him ambling along behind them - he is just a 7-month old pup after all! But the horses still gave him a good run and, after they got back to the stables, Eddie needed a long nap. Later, he joined the kids and other dogs for a game of soccer, which everyone else in the world calls football. Eddie made the kids play better because, if he could get his nose on the ball, he would run off with it, bouncing the ball ahead of him with his nose, with everyone else after him in hot pursuit.

During school holidays, dog routines and habits change from normal - in my experience, dogs always prefer to hang out with the kids. I’m sure that’s true in most households everywhere.

Once the kids return to school, however, the dogs revert to normal - hanging out with us adult humans; not nearly as much fun as the kids, but any human will do - the guys down in the pastures, the gals in the gardens, and often with me pretty much anywhere. If not with humans, then the dogs lounge together with the cats, either at the stables or over at the house, depending on where someone might be around to give them some attention. We keep fresh food and water out all day in both places, moving dishes around continuously to keep the ants at bay. It’s just easier that way, so everybody learns to share.

You can always see all the dogs together at teatime - around 4pm - when Gerald likes to go out and give all of them something good to eat, sometimes leftover stuff, like pork chops or paella with the works! But Gerald won’t just give the dogs a treat willy-nilly. Oh no! They have to work for it! They have to sit! We can hear Gerald out there with the dogs all around him: “Sit! You sit you! Sit down Spotty! There’s a good girl”. And you look out the window and see him with all the dogs sitting ever so obediently around him, Gerald walking around and putting tasty morsels in their mouths! After that rather agreeable session, the dogs split up once again and return to their favorite hang-outs to lounge and nap for the afternoon.

I take my turn with Eddie to help train him to respond to voice commands: Heel…Sit…Come…Stay. He is a smart pup, and has quickly learned to heel and sit. With help from the kids, we should have him fully trained on the other commands by the end of this week. Training is essential for the dogs living out here in the forest. We think of it as giving them survival skills. Dogs like to nose around, and sometimes end up nosing around where they shouldn’t. So, hopefully, they will never bite down on a harsh dose of reality - say the fiery burn of a hortiga plant or an army ant or a porcupine or worse - and learn their lesson the hard way.

At night, we bring Spotty and Flopsy inside to the laundry room, because they are used to it and accept the confinement. The rest of the dogs want to stay outside, sleeping up on terrace chairs, over at the stables, or in their own special hiding places. Eddie tried out sleeping in the stables, and even spent a night in a hollowed out Guanacaste tree. I was a bit startled when Hugo found him all curled up inside the tree sleeping peacefully the next morning, and I feared for all the creepy night-crawlers around, but the guys assured me, in their own words, that the expression, ‘Let sleeping dogs lie’, is understood by species all the way back the evolutionary tree to worms and insects. The crawlies catch his scent and stay clear. Still, it’s funny how many animal expressions apply to human behavior.

Eddie has reminded us of another expression exclusive to the puppy world, ‘Anything you let drop to the ground instantly enters the dog’s domain’.

In any case, Eddie has lately developed a preference for sleeping outside the house in a big comfy box that we found for him.

Do our dogs wander into the forest? Well, they love to follow us humans down there, and we’ve trained them to stay with us on the trails. When I go out by myself hiking, Flopsy will almost always scent me out to catch up, even if I have an hour head start. The bigger dogs only go into the forest to follow the workers or to chase off other animals and even other dogs and cats (usually abandoned to the forest by their owners). Sometimes, however, our pack accepts an abandoned animal. The last to get accepted was a scrawny cat we named ‘Skinny Bones’. He disappeared some months afterwards, when a big cat - described as either a Jaguarundi or a Margay (Caucel) - started mauling our male cats. The dogs managed to chase it off, but they sure didn’t want to tangle with it. Luckily, the big cats have big territories, and there’s much to hunt in the forest, even small deer.

All the resident dogs and cats recognize each other and only chase each other to have some fun. Eddie already knows the others, and moves among them at this point without needing the leash. He was freed from the leash on Tuesday - and immediately got into trouble. We always have more difficulty getting new dogs to recognize our free-range chickens as litter-mates, and this has proved no exception with Eddie. We had to rescue a chicken he had in his mouth on Tuesday. Luckily, she survived, and Eddie learned his lesson from Marcia - a housekeeper with a very good voice, “NO, NO, NO!!!” - and Eddie got the message. It’s tough being a dog…

And chasing after prey is so much fun for dogs, but they really must overcome their instinct to hunt, and replace it with an instinct to please humans. That’s why we like mixed-breeds best. Hunting breeds, especially those genetically disposed, or bred, to hunt and kill - like the Poodle - have a killer instinct stronger than the instinct to please their master. And it’s almost impossible to completely train out that instinct. The only way, perhaps, would be to raise the pups in the hen house. The farmers we met in Spain and France did that with amazing success. The hens could even wander around the house without getting harassed, not even by the housekeepers!

However, the gals just won’t abide chickens in the kitchen in this day and age. Reminds me of what Armando’s mom, Dona Rosa said to me once:

“Kids today are just so lazy!”

Well, we’ve heard that line from all sorts of people over the years, and whenever we ask them the reason why, the answers are all different. But I shall never forget Dona Rosa’s answer:
“Kids are lazy today because they don’t know how to kill and pluck a hen!”

How could I fess up to her that I don’t have a clue how to do that either!

In any case, luckily, Eddie has a strong instinct to please and learns quickly. We are confident that he will do just fine with his merry pack of canines, felines, equines, etc. here at Tigre.

So, to the young man who seemed a bit glum about leaving his first beloved dog to a new family, please don’t worry. Eddie will always have you as his first best friend. Someday, you will have another pet to play with. In the meantime, if you ever find yourself hiking with your parents near Tigre, do call us up and come visit Eddie. I have a feeling he will remember you with great joy!

In other news, the road from Ciudad Colon to Rodeo closed again Friday at 10PM due to a landslide. I like saying goodbye to the outer world - kind of like blizzard days in the North - awesome! We would telecommute and go skiing or snow shoeing or build a snow fort…

Well, Gerald wasn’t happy about it at all! And when the workers plowed a kind of mucky lane open by Saturday afternoon, I still didn’t want to take the risk to go out, in case it closed again and we got stuck out there. Gerald really wanted to try out this new restaurant in Santa Ana, and was just furious that we were stuck - trapped, as he put it - here at Reserva El Tigre. And this was despite a delightful meal we prepared him, with ingredients all grown fresh here at the Finca. Gerald was not to be appeased, but did relent and relaxed a bit more after opening a bottle of Marques de Riscal Gran Reserva ‘95…

*S.A.S.Y.: What is it?
Stop Animal Suffering Yes! - run by a group of smart, stylish, accomplished, multi-cultural, DROP DEAD GORGEOUS women, who came together to stop animal cruelty here in Costa Rica. And within a few short years, S.A.S.Y. has become an amazing fundraising organization. Their 2005 Calendar of - you guessed it - gorgeous women posing in the buff with their favorite pet, has become quite a collectors’ item. The funds raised from S.A.S.Y. go to support various Costa Rican animal organizations that rescue, shelter and/or spay & neuter cats and dogs, and sometimes also help other animals like horses. They also support educational programs aimed at preventing animal cruelty and teaching kids how to care for their pets. Google their website for more information on the tremendous work they do.

Shrubbery

This shrubbery is located between stable and house
I have always loved shrubberies and the shrubbers who shrub. We first experienced the massive shrubberies, always the best, in England. Shrubs and hedgerows greeted us everywhere, as we meandered across the island doing one of our Pubs & Gardens tours. I still have the itineraries. Gerry chose the pubs and I picked the gardens. So we went from National Trust Garden to pub, to another garden in the afternoon, and then to the pub where we would stay the night. We did that every year during most of the 90’s, and I got to see a lot of shrubberies, not to mention the Mecca of all gardeners – the Chelsea Flower Show in London.
At that time, we lived in Upper Bucks County in Pennsylvania, and never missed the Philadelphia Flower Show in March – even if we had to drive through snow storms to get there. Those 90’s were heady gardening days when I would come back from the garden shows, head straight to the catalogs, and begin ordering for the season in our garden at Hessian House on County Line Road. I did the whole lot: formal flowering borders, parkland, culinary, woodland, wetland and, above all else, SHRUBBERIES! My favorite was the massive mixed shrubbery planted along the road - mostly Viburnum and Holly, but I also had a lot of fun with hydrangeas. I met gardening soulmates, Marj Swenson and Polly Ivenz (Polly, the butterflies are in full fluttering flight right now here at the Finca). We also lived next door to organic gardening experts, Ana and Ken Kodamos, doctorate level scientists associated with Rodale Press and Lehigh University. They inspired me to go totally organic, though it wasn’t easy with the golf course-style gardener we had in Pennsylvania. Even so, those were the gardening days. I thought I knew something.
Then we moved to Costa Rica, and I got blown away by all the biodiversity here in the Tropics and had to study all over again.
Now Armando is helping us to plant a series of shrubberies all over the place but, this time, I’m mixing function with beauty. Is it beautiful and edible? Then we will always find room for it! Gardening in the Tropics is very different from the Zone 6 in Pennsylvania, where the dormant winter season gives us a bit of a rest. In Costa Rica, the dry season causes some plants to go dormant, but not all the insects, and the war goes on! Right now we’re in the rainy season - my favorite in terms of beauty. But we’re also at the height of horsefly season. We’re using Citronella repellants for the horses (and ourselves…), trying experiment after experiment to improve the concoction. The cream is effective but too short in duration. Now we’re thinking of weaving the citronella grass right into the manes and tails - making a kind of grass-enhanced tail that our horses can use like a broom - whack! If the scent doesn’t keep the flies away, then use the tail! Of course, the horses can whack a fly dead with the tail anyway, so what the hell am I talking about? Well, maybe the whacking will release more citronella in the air every time the horse whacks and, thus he won’t need to whack so often?
Oh, just forget about the whacking and get back to shrubberies. Tropical shrubberies are not subtle things - you have lots of big leaves and bright colors. The butterfly gardens are actually shrubberies. Even the Lantana grows to become a big shrub here, and develops spines! - just part of its adaptation to the tropical world. You have to methodically prune and remove certain incorrigible plants, or else the shrubbery can become a monster in very short order. I have learned many lessons, and made some appalling mistakes. Now I consult Armando before buying anything - we probably have it already - and he chooses where to plant. All I do is the rough design, and he’s even getting the swing of that! There’s no greater joy than gardening with someone who really understands nature - going with it rather than fighting it. It’s the old indigenous way, which my northern gardening pals might recognize as elements of organic gardening – but new ways for a lot of people.
Happy gardening out there!

Drink of the Day

Okay, take a clean bottle like the one pictured here – which I use – and pop in a partly peeled lemon. The lemon – which must be sour not sweet – acts as a preservative. If you want a nice tang to your drink, give the lemon a squeeze before popping it in and you can even add more lemon if you’re a lemon freak like I am. Now, go out into the garden and pick nice fresh sprigs of whatever combo of herbs you like to make your Drink of the Day. I start the day out early, between 5 and 6 a.m., so I prefer a combination of mints, and maybe an allspice leaf or pineapple sage, but it varies each day. After adding a few sprigs of the herbs that you would like today, fill up the bottle with water and give it a shake.
That’s your Drink of the Day, and it will last you all through the day. Add fresh water to the bottle as necessary throughout the day, and you will notice that the flavor changes depending on whether you drink it all down at once, or you let it sit for an hour or so.
Remember:
Use sprigs – your herbs like a little pruning on a regular basis. Do not use individual leaves or anything that might come through the bottle and choke you. You want your herbs to last all day inside the bottle, not stuck in your teeth (or throat)!
Also, never add sugar to your Drink because it will ferment bacteria and the lemon-sweet mixture will rot your teeth! If you want a sweet taste, add a sprig of Stevia (slightly crushed to get it going) or maybe even a Miracle Fruit but, if you do, I would stick the berry deep inside the lemon so it doesn’t pop out and choke you! I have never used Miracle Fruit personally, although we grow it here, because I prefer more savory-lemony drinks, even early in the morning.
At 6 p.m. or so, empty out the bottle and select a clean one for your Drink of the Evening. Now you might want to play with more savory herbs like sages and even chili peppers.
However, after 6 p.m., my beverage of choice is red wine; GRAK prefers a gin & tonic; but whatever your choice…
…Salud!
And what does GRAK think of my Drink of the Day? He doesn’t like it at all! He even keeps our bottles separate, Kosher-style, because he hates the smell of that “herbal lemon shit” that’s left in my bottles. When Gerald wants water, he only wants the taste of water, not “some other weird crap”.
One time while walking the streets of New Orleans, I gave Gerald a Tic Tac, which he hates the flavor of, and he mindlessly put it in his mouth. A second later, he spat it out onto the sidewalk! He actually spat out the Tic Tac where he stood, and there we were looking down at it. “Don’t give me that shit again, please”, he growled, walking on. All I could do was laugh.
http://fincaeltigre.blogspot.com

Sort of home in the jungle

Finally, I can sit down.

Finally, I’m over the initial shock of returning from New Orleans to a house still unfinished. Yes Barry, I have learned anger management. There were lots of busy feet flying around here for the first few weeks after returning, including mine, but I remained, mostly, externally calm. Internally, it took longer to calm down and to readjust to reality, Taiji center, get in balance with gravity. Most of the final details for the house are now with the woodworkers: these very methodical, very precise, very slow - and also very sensitive - artisans.

Yes, we are still in TRANSITION INSANITY. At this point, the second floor of the house is ready to live in. And it really is a house you can live in! Okay, the second floor laundry still isn’t operational due to… oh you don’t want to get me started. But, apart from that, I am eager to break out into ALL the upper floor: three bedrooms, three bathrooms, sitting area, walk-in closet, laundry/utility room, and the most important room of the house after the kitchen, the library. But the process of organizing creates havoc - boxes and stuff strewn all over - and Gerry doesn’t like chronic chaos and would rather wait. He prefers to continue camping out in one of the guest rooms - using it like a hotel room, and taking meals over at the apartment with Janet, the kids, dogs, cats and sometimes chickens.

We’ve been camping out for a year and a half now. First, we got rooms at TexMex, then briefly lodged at the Intercontinental, then moved to the first guest room in the house/building site, then to the second guest room. In between all this, we (or more often Gerald…) would escape to New Orleans whenever possible.

We moved all of the antiques and valuables to our flat in New Orleans (yeah I know, to get whacked by the next hurricane) and left all the old, shabby furniture to decorate the house at El Tigre. And this has presented a bit of a decorating challenge to say the least. But, HEAR THIS THIEVES, LADRONES, HAMPA, we have no valuables at El Tigre - just junky stuff we’ve been hauling around for donkeys’ years!

We are now officially in Code Yellow at the Finca. A few nights a go, at around 11PM, Jose called and told us that a Blue Suzuki SUV with two guys in it had parked in the lot opposite the stables, and that they had begun moving quietly about, possibly casing the property. Everybody jumped into action as trained…floodlights, dogs, guns, phone calls, cars moving up the mountain to block, if necessary. Within minutes, Jose, the dogs, Armando, and then the muni police, chased that Blue Suzuki right out of El Rodeo. Even GRAK went out to join in the action. I stayed in bed. As GRAK likes to say, why keep a dog and bark yourself. We doubt those guys will be back anytime soon.

In New Orleans, security is all electronic and when the power’s out, they call in the National Guard.

GRAK is highly security conscious and I take the path of least resistance and just go along with him. Also, the training is a lot of fun. I’m becoming quite a sharp-shooter now that I’ve switched to my right hand, although I’m usually left-handed. One time, as I was stepping into an elevator after a job interview, the interviewer asked me to sign something and when I did, he exclaimed, “Oh, you’re left-handed!” My response was, “Do I still get the job?” The door closed before he could respond but, yes, I still got the job.

Gerald went to San Jose for appointments today, including renewing his concealed weapons license, and was told that the printing/picture on the new plastic license will deteriorate before it expires! They recommended that he protect the card with a plastic coating, but that he can’t use a hot plasticizing system because that would destroy it. However, after much discussion, the only cold system they knew about was a guy on a street down in San Jose somewhere.

Besides sorting out the household, we are also busy out in the gardens, expanding and diversifying the orchards, hortaleza and ornamental gardens. We’re now in the third season of garden design and it’s become a work in progress. People ask me how many workers it takes to maintain a garden like the one we’re creating at El Tigre. Answer: One good man.

Armando Parra is a master-gardener, trained by his father and grandfather in the old ways, e.g. to layer frijoles with garlic as a repellent, to rotate crops, and to observe and understand nature. Take grasshoppers. Armando just tolerates grasshopper season because they are fascinating insects to look at, they attract awesome birds as prey, and soon we go back into balance. We lose some brunfelsia leaves but the shrub leafs back out again. If I want to protect something, however, Armando makes a repellent spray of chili peppers and soap, and that tends to send the grasshoppers to the tastier plant further down in the shrubbery. Armando’s right. Just leave them be and nature will cycle around.

Even the kids spend time out in the gardens. I saw little Danny picking Madero Negro leaves and rubbing them over his arms as a repellent. Madero Negro (Gliricidia sepium) is often used as an insect repellent - the girls put satchels of it mixed with citronella grass in the drawers. Anyway, Danny was rubbing the plant over some itchy bites. He needed something for the itch, so I suggested he go apply ice wrapped in a wet cloth until the itching stops. Then we would look at another remedy if he needed it. He didn’t.
Danny is a clever kid. He won the Science Fair prize for his composting project. And his older cousin won 1st prize in his age category for his soap-making experiments. Both kids went on to compete in Ciudad Colon. I used to volunteer as one of the Science Fair judges, but when Armando’s grandkids kept winning - even though I abstained from evaluating anyone I knew - it was just getting too close.

In the afternoon, everybody stops for tea. We change it everyday! Today we mixed pineapple sage with lemon grass, infused for 5 minutes. Awesome! You could add a Stevia leaf or honey, but I prefer it savory.

It had to happen sooner or later. A big cat has moved up our way from the forest and has begun tormenting our animals, especially our male cats. It has already killed Skinny Bones and badly mauled Manchito and Sylvester - we treated both for bite abscesses and luckily they survived. Sylvester is already on his 5th life after a few close calls in Ciudad Colon. Some of you remember that we lost Beastie’s sister, Grisela to a Boa Constrictor. We’re not sure what the cat species is that is attacking our animals yet, perhaps a Jaguaruni (?). Janet described it as a grey-striped cat with huge paws the size of a medium-sized dog. She says that he is strikingly beautiful - majestic - rarely spotted but sometimes heard when he strikes - and then our dogs and cats come racing back home howling. Now the cats don’t stray far from the house and the dogs don’t want to tangle with that big cat either.

The good news is that the birds have returned to feed and nest in the lower gardens - no longer tormented by our cats. The forest gives us balance - death cycling into life. Trees die, fall, provide shelter for the living and compost for that yet to live. Cycles are all around us in the forest, easily observable.

Today was my first chance to escape the household duties and hike down into the forest. I went alone - not even Flopsy came with me – maybe still too scared of that big cat. But I saw the horses in pasture, and then the forest inhabitants. You are never alone in the forest - no doubt the monkeys and other animals spend far more time observing me from their bird’s eye view than I do them. But there is plenty to see. I enjoy walking by myself - even as a kid I mostly kept to myself.

I was bullied a lot as a kid. I was an ugly, scrawny kid, kept to my own company, and got teased and taunted a lot. Boys seem to outgrow bullying before girls, who are far crueler. I finally developed enough confidence to stand up to them. Even now, I prefer animals and other people who also love nature, generally introverted people.

In the forest, I feel connected and, at times, hyper-alert. For example when scaling a mountain or approaching a waterfall to fill the bottle, eyes and ears open for the Fer-de-Lance snake that might blend in with a fallen log. It’s a special way to look - like hunting for the elusive morel mushroom. You have to go hyper-alert with ‘soft-eyes’ alternating with ‘hard-eyes’. You need lots of hiking with the likes of Armando to learn the tropical forest ways. Once again, I notice that the guys have cleaned the trails. They’re not taking any chances. I’m alone but not lonely. The forest is magical, musical, Paradise on Earth.

Just saw a Coatimundo for the first time today! We were both startled, not expecting to see each other. Then I opened my big mouth and said: “Wow! Who are you?” And he turned around and went back where he came from. It’s possible that this big Coatimundo might also tangle with domestic pets. Also saw a pair of small deer on the road below Tiger hill. They darted back into the forest.

The forest is always teaching something new, sharing, solving mysteries.
Success in life has nothing to do with wealth. We could go back to work and buy that awesome new Toyota Hilux 4x4 Diesel Turbo Pickup Truck (GRAK would get a Land Rover, of course) but we are too busy living the life. Gerry retired over two years ago. I shifted from pharmacy and the pharmaceutical industry into plants back in the late 1980s and haven’t left the forest since. First studied medicinal plants in Pennsylvania, especially Black Cohosh (Cimicifuga racemosa) back at the farm in Pennsylvania, and then got into tropical botany when we moved to Costa Rica in 1997. I don’t write or study to publish – just learning and observing…

In fruit now in forest, just glimpsed today:
Guayacan (Acosmiun panamense), Caregres: Picramnia antidesma and P. latifolia, Guayaba (Psidium guajava), Eugenia species, Siparuna species f.Monimiaceae…all I can remember.

Of Bugs and Bourbon

Ever wonder what happens to the organic souvenirs that Customs confiscates from tourists upon returning from Costa Rica? We’ve all tried to get through Customs and have been relieved of our treasures over the years. I once met a catholic priest who actually got on a plane in Costa Rica with a parrot perched on his shoulder and almost made it all the way through to NYC– until he tried clearing Customs at Kennedy, where he was relieved of his companion. So, what do they do with all the butterflies, awesome spiders, sci-fi beetles and orchids (you bad boy!) that you tried so hard to smuggle across the border? Well, in New Orleans, they’ve taken the whole lot of them and put them on display in a museum, which just happens to be located next door to us here on N. Peters St!

The Feds have been renovating the massive granite Customs Building for years now, and we just thought that it would continue serving as the Customs Building. But Gerry learned from a very good source – taxi driver just arrived here from Nigeria – that the Feds have relocated Customs to a new building and that the building next door will soon open as an Insectarium!

Instantly, I had the answer to the question that has nagged us naughty naturalists for years! Gerry and I walked over there and peaked in the windows just to confirm and, sure enough, we could see big displays of butterflies and a whole range of insects sure to delight both entomologists and kids! We will soon have a wonderful place to go when we miss El Tigre. You might not see monkeys every day in the forest but you will definitely see a range of mouth-dropping insects! All thanks to you smuggling tourists! Okay, maybe I’m just speculating on how Customs got their hands on such a massive collection, but even the somewhat impaired logico-deductive thinking of a Bourbon Street drunk would lead to that conclusion.

Last night, we walked down Bourbon Street on our way home from the Erin Rose bar. It’s our place for a frozen Irish coffee, if we don’t have the energy to walk all the way down Decatur to Molly’s. The Frozen Irish is great at both places – a marvelous ice-cream dessert for the alcoholically inclined... Molly’s is also a must if you like cats – she has a beauty who sits on the bar.

Most residents avoid Bourbon Street – they head over to Frenchmen Street for good music and local crowds. But I still like wandering Bourbon Street and mingling with the tourists after dinner for one of the best free shows in the country. Some jack-ass wrote somewhere that Bourbon Street is one of the 10 top tourist traps in the country. What a load of crap! You don’t have to spend a nickel on Bourbon Street for entertainment, although the street performers do appreciate the tips. As the leader of a spectacular acrobatic-dance group said last night with a wicked smile on his face, “If you’re not generous with your tips, we’ll just have to go back to doing what we did before – visiting your homes when you’re not there…” After spending months in solitary tranquility in the forest, I feel that Bourbon gives me a chance to reconnect with humanity without actually, well, connecting. Gerald retorts: “Sure, if your idea of humanity is drunks, whores and thugs!”

Well, it’s true that you wouldn’t take your kids there after 6PM and, ladies, don’t go by yourself if you don’t want to get accosted (before 10PM) and assaulted (after midnight).

I’m starting to feel better. Still coughing a lot when I talk too much or stay up to late - as I found out last night…

‘Second-line’ cures what ails

Still sick and laying low in New Orleans. Reading a book about the demise of the Cathars – hardly the stuff of good cheer. Gerald’s gone out to buy me some more lemons for my herbal tea concoctions.

Suddenly, I hear a raucous brass band out in the street. I peer out the window of our 4th floor flat and see a big crowd approaching down the middle of the street. A second-line parade! Normally, I would rush down the stairs to join in with the festivity, but not this time. I decided not to push fate. Still, the second-line parades always have the same effect on people – just pure joy. So I stood at the window smiling and watching the whole thing – first the police escort motorcycles, clearing the road; then the big, spirited brass band; followed by the crowd, made bigger as it went on by with bystanders joining in. For the first time today, I felt this swell of good feeling. Still hacking and coughing, but heart filled with goodness. All is well. This virus too shall pass!

And when I die, like everybody else in this town, I want a second line funeral parade.

A Year with Carmen by Mavis Biesanz

Mavis Biesanz
Scholar, anthropologist, gifted writer and author of many books (last published and a must read: A Year with Carmen), philanthropist, teacher, naturalist, spiritual seeker, animal lover, devoted friend, mother and grandmother….

Remember the time you came over for lunch while my mom was visiting? I was rushing and, at the last minute, I cut some pink bougainvillea branches and laid them down on the table as a centerpiece. Then, just after everyone sat down at the table to eat, to my utter horror, a slew of ants started crawling out from the plant and began wandering around the table. You just calmly shooed them all back into the bracts as if it were perfectly natural to eat lunch with ants on the table.

That’s just like you – making even your hapless hostess feel that all was well in the world. Your big heart shared love like that with everyone around you, from dearest friends and family to all of your beloved Costa Ricans. You never spoke about all the Tico children you surreptitiously supported through University, nor of the many works you carried out to improve the lives of so many. I learned of your generosity in many ways – once, from the local seamstress in Ciudad Colon, who remembers you as the angel who personally provided supplies and money to local impoverished kids, helping them to ‘live the dream’. Another time, a taxi driver spoke of how you ‘adopted’ promising Costa Rican students and helped to educate them all the way through years of school. You never abandoned anyone.

And those of us with the good fortune to have known you personally, how we all gained from your understanding, your compassion, your wisdom and, oh yes, your quick wit - at times your acerbic wit! But only dished out to those who could truly appreciate it! Even now, I can see your eyes, sparkling with affectionate playfulness. There was no greater joy than sitting down with you and feeling like the most important person in the world. That’s how you made everyone feel.

We spent much more time together during my volunteer years. How important you were to me then – in so many ways – gently coaching, sometimes teasing but always encouraging. As the years went by, we saw each other less and less often, you moved from our Ciudad Colon neighborhood to the lovely home that Barry and Sarah built for you in Escazu. Even now, I recall the precious moments we shared together during the full moon gatherings – friends and family everywhere, playing music, singing and merry making – and you sitting near the fireplace, taking your turn with each and every most important person in the world.

Barry told me that he would never let you win at scrabble, not even at the end. You would not have abided it. At the hospital, he gave me a copy of the last book you wrote – A Year with Carmen. Is that you on the cover? What a beauty – like an auburn-haired Reese Witherspoon. I’ve learned a lot more about you from that book. You still speak to me through it. We discuss the gilded cage...how much of it is of our own making? You are the only one who could understand even breaching the topic!

I thought about you again the day after seeing the film, Atonement. That film had me crying like a baby – actually wept throughout most of it.

So much has been left unsaid, unasked, not done. But now I understand, Mavis, why you never invited me into your book club - officially closed to new members. All I ever had to do was ask.
Pax vobiscum

Sick in N'Awlins

Why Oh why does shit happen?
Sick and miserable, day after day, sitting in this flat, it gets mind-numbing. I feel like the walking dead. The world goes by outside, and all I can do is slouch on the sofa; putz aimlessly about; read; doze; all in a wretched haze of yuck.

I never get sick in the country. Nobody does. From eons past, people went to the country to avoid getting sick. If you live in the country and want to get sick, you simply go and spend a few weeks in town. Oftentimes, you can pick up the virus on the very first day by boarding a crowded aircraft. If you don’t get it during transport, then you will soon after arriving to the city - at the theatre or anywhere else where humans flock and crowd together.

Back when we lived in PA, we shared the countryside with likeminded escapees from NYC, also seeking town & country living. A favorite of ours – Hervey – a true urban Thoreau, would always get sick during his periodic visits to the city. I would harp on at him every time he made plans to leave his charming down-country cottage for the Big Apple. Especially in December! “Don’t go there Hervey, you’re going to get sick again - like you always do!” And he would always respond – “what’s the point of living if not to take in the latest Broadway show… share a fine repast with dear friends… wander café to gallery? And off he would go to Manhattan and, sure enough, upon his return, we would find him sitting in his overgrown boxwood gardens, sniffling and congested, beloved cat, Goya, on his lap. Guests would have to mix their own cocktails that day. Sadly, Hervey is no longer with us, but his legacy lives on, thanks to his Coffee Town Road neighbor, Christopher Boas, who did a film documentary of Hervey’s extraordinary life – from his youthful NY cultural bonhomie during the great depression, to decades of outrageous weekends in the country…the films…the countess, the opera singer, the scandalous widow... Someday I hope to see the film.

But I digress as I always do. And when you feel hideous and hollow from congestion, you can’t be expected to write even semi-coherently. The only reason that I’m writing at all is because there is nothing on Comedy Central, and my eyes ache too much to read. And the Democratic nomination battle has become too tedious to watch, even for the most fanatical news addicts.

I admit liking Obama Girl...Stephen Colbert…Jon Stewart and especially Bill Maher. The ‘You Tube’ world has turned the traditional news media conventions upside down. Like everybody else in New Orleans, we howled in protest when the National Debate Committee bypassed our city - they said that the city wasn’t ready. What a line of utter crap and they all knew it – and you can rest assured that they, both individually and collectively, heard very clearly and explicitly from New Orleans! So we were thrilled when You Tube/Google announced plans to bring the candidates here for a virtual debate later this summer. What a grand way to ‘stick it’ to the traditional powers that be!

All of this makes good entertainment for those of us too sick to go outside.

I usually don’t get sick in New Orleans. It’s a different kind of town – better ventilated. At least, it is during the months when we’re in residence – in Spring, from Mardi Gras through Jazz Fest, and then again in Autumn, when the weather is fine and parties pour out into the streets and really get revved up.

After the Storm, a lot of full-timers left the city. But to where? Where can you go from New Orleans? Well, some of them found their way to Costa Rica. People there think we want to meet the Katrina refugees but we don’t. It’s true that after the Storm, many people had no choice, but we kind of doubt that anyone who lost everything would have landed in paradise. Given a choice, why would anyone abandon our beloved city when it needs everyone to come back home? Could it be that they just needed an excuse? I don’t want to judge the choices made by others, but we love the Big Easy and make our passion known whenever we get a chance, always trying to promote the city. Both of our gas-guzzling jeeps in Costa Rica have the bumper sticker: “New Orleans – Proud to Swim Home!”

As one Katrina refugee put it to me recently at a cocktail party in Costa Rica, to where she high-tailed it after losing her Lakeview mansion home: “I grew up in New Orleans – went to all the Deb balls! I know that city better than you! I believe Hurricane Katrina was God’s retribution to a sinful city.” Actually, New Orleans has always been populated by such sinners as prostitutes and criminals – that’s why it has been, and always will be, such a fun town.

But nowhere is fun when you’re sick and sitting in a stupefying funk in the flat.

It didn’t start out this way. I arrived in New Orleans just in time for the second weekend of JazzFest. Gerry had escaped some weeks earlier. Gerry’s take on ‘town vs. country’ is far different from mine. The country makes him sick (mostly in the head) and New Orleans rejuvenates him. When he’s not in New Orleans, he’s grumpy and homesick and, at every chance he gets and for any old excuse, Gerald (aka Famine) will jump on a plane and come to our home here in the Crescent City, leaving me back at Finca El Tigre.
On this occasion, I arrived just as Famine’s fellow Horseman, Pestilence, also arrived to take in everything New Orleans and especially the music scene. The first week we partied like nobody was looking - and then Pestilence got sick - then a few days later, Famine got sick. So for the next several days, we’re all cooped up here together in the flat, while I tried nursing them back to health. Gerald said it first, and there’s just no better word describing it than this: stultifying. Pestilence finally recovered enough to get on a flight back to Costa Rica. Unfortunately, I got the first symptom – sore throat – the next day and it went downhill from there.
The best remedies for colds & flu don’t require a trip to the pharmacy. You just need lots of fluids and sleep and time. Drink chicken broth and/or hot tea with lemon & honey and rest, rest, rest. Wait a minute! We’re in New Orleans after all! Aren’t there any medicinal cocktails? Yes, thank God, there are! Somebody said that God invented beer because he loves us and wants us to be happy. But beer is not a good remedy unless you drink just one – try saying that to your British mate. Luckily, options abound!

When we all fell ill in Havana, we discovered the wonderful minty Mojito cocktail. Here in New Orleans, you can order the refreshing Pimm’s cocktail or go straight for the gold: a Sazerac or two at Tujagues! Does it help? You bet! You feel great all the way through dinner and fall straight into bed and sleep for 12 hours. Next morning you wake up feeling worse than ever. And you swear that you will stick to the chicken broth…lay low…until the bug is finally gone. And then evening swings around again and you could swear that you’re feeling a bit better…

So what about today? Will we stay home or will I rally and take Gerald to Restaurant August this evening for his long, overdue birthday dinner? What do you think? Do you have any idea what it took just to get a reservation in there? We love Chef John Besh so much, that when he lost out to somebody or other from Cleveland as the next, great IRON CHEF, I turned off the show in disgust and haven’t tuned it back on since!
Salud!

Moving Day

Moving day was yesterday, April 3rd, 2008. Yes, stating the year was absolutely necessary*. We survived the so long-awaited event and moved forward. But it was exhausting for everyone.
Over the years, we have moved many times – from packing everything we own into the car, to sorting out our major international moves. Moving day is always stressful, and having a lot of support doesn’t necessarily make it easier. We were officially repatriated from Costa Rica to New Orleans (retirement) shortly after Hurricane Katrina, and the only workers the moving company could find to help us were two sickly looking college kids and an old man with a limp. We were stronger than any of them and ended up helping to physically move in all the antiques and other furniture.
Our idea was to move all the valuable things to New Orleans and leave the older, less expensive stuff in storage in Costa Rica for the house at El Tigre. However, that’s still a lot of stuff that we’ve collected over the years, and the boxes filled up the container moving truck. No problem! The movers only had to drive the truck from their very own storage warehouse to our house out at El Tigre. A simple, local move – a piece of cake.
The moving company realized that they would not be able to get their container-sized moving truck up the mountain to Finca El Tigre, so they organized pick-up trucks to go back and forth between the container truck, which they parked at U.Paz, and El Tigre. However, those that arrived were definitely not All Terrain Vehicles, nor even 4x4s, so, of course, they couldn’t make it up the hill from the University for Peace. So now the moving guys go back to Ciudad Colon to look for any 4x4 pick-up truck they can find to do the move. There they are, unknown workers wearing company t-shirts, talking it up with the locals in sleepy Ciudad Colon. 4x4 pick-ups urgently needed! They tried everything to bribe any 4x4 truck driver just happening down the road. And, of course, most drivers obliged for the right price. So, before we knew it, our regular, local truck drivers started showing up with their trucks piled high with our stuff. At one point, our builders’ delivery truck showed up with a new, hand-made back door, fresh out of the carpenter’s workshop across town. However, since he just happened to be driving past the moving truck, heading straight for El Tigre, the movers commandeered his nice big 4x4 truck and piled it high with boxes. The driver looked extremely cross, as the moving guys at this end unpacked his truck. I suggested to Janet that perhaps we should give him a tip for his trouble, but she just jutted out her chin and said, “Poof! He didn’t lift a finger except to drive his truck as he always does. Life is such as it is!”
And the day wore on; the truck drivers bickering, the moving guys always thirsty, Janet barking out orders to everyone, “…up to the library... to the vestidor… watch out there… the water glasses are over there…”. And I’m everywhere, checking lists and managing the unpacking. Janet and Marcia had been prepped with lists and instructions, and performed splendidly as the boxes came through into the house. And we soon found ourselves in a routine - from checking off each box as it came off the truck - Gerald’s job - to the rest of us working with the un-packers to settle the contents into the house.
Now, make no mistake about it, stress definitely causes and/or exacerbates pain. That blasted snake gun I tried out a few days ago kicked like a mule and hurt my shoulder! For some reason, I never really noticed the ache until later in the week – on moving day. And by mid-afternoon, I could barely take the pain and had to sit down for a few minutes. I made the mistake of sitting down on the bench next to Gerald, who was busy checking in boxes - the moving guys queuing up in front of him to get checked off. Gerald would not be hurried.
And then I stupidly complained to him again that my shoulder still hurt. At that point, Gerald flashed his eyes at me - “You’re starting to worry me! Are you really hurt or is it just muscle ache?”
Gerald is used to my frequent scrapes and bruises and has little sympathy for me. I had to fess up. It was a mere muscle ache.
“Then shut up and deal with it”, he said irritably, and turned back to the inventory list and the queue.
It was time for a remedy!
I asked Janet what was the strongest analgesic in the house. She responded, Naproxen, 220mg. It would do nicely for me. So I asked for the bottle and swallowed two tablets, and next thing I know, everybody is passing around the bottle of Naproxen. Seems everybody had a headache or something aching somewhere. It wasn’t the physical work - it was the stress of moving 248 boxes from a large container, via a series of strange pick-up trucks/drivers, into the house.
Gerald, of course, would have none of it! Nothing seems to bother him physically, and if it does, he just bears up and deals with it - the proverbial English stiff upper lip - just shoulder your burden and carry on, lad. As to taking remedies, Gerald says: “I (used to) sell drugs, I don’t take them.”
Well, I used to sell drugs too but I’m no martyr. Still, I’ve now observed how stress amplifies pain. This morning, we all woke up feeling fine as usual, so we agreed that the moving day pain was mostly stress related, which, in our case, provoked old aches and pains.
On the bright side, it started raining – a major torrential rain – just minutes after the last truck pulled away. Amazingly, everything had made it safely inside.
It’s now official. It’s raining again at El Tigre. Raining in the Forest…a rain forest…mornings fresh and cool…in silence, sounds of chirping, twittering, chattering, hooting – nature’s symphony – Opus April 4th, 2008. The new leaves budding out…forest canopy now with fresh green texture…lacy guanacastes…earthy scents…cool mist rising, sun overhead…
I am late for breakfast again.
Gerald is busy making departure plans for New Orleans.

*Some people like to joke and equate me with the Widow Winchester, who might die if she ever finished her house construction. My brother once told me that some people talk and other people are talked about, and that I would always be one of those people that other people like to talk about - just a bit too far off the mainstream grid to stay under the radar. “Get used to it”, he said. That was back when I was 12 years old…

Binge Monday

Horses, Volcan and Lucero, graze in pasture below the house.
Today is Monday. And, unfortunately for us, today is Binge Monday. Well known here in Costa Rica, and much better tolerated than it would be pretty much anywhere else in the world - one of the joys of living the Pura Vida a la Tica.
Our horse trainer didn’t show up for work again today – coincidentally, once again on a Monday. He called Armando at 6am and said that his motorcycle was out of sorts, so couldn’t get to El Tigre to ride the horses. This time, Armando decided to call him on it, and insisted on going over to his house to pick him up. So Armando shows up at his house and finds him still drunk and so unsteady on his feet that he couldn’t mount his sofa much less a horse. Another day’s pay docked. Binge Monday! Everybody knows somebody who occasionally doesn’t show up for work because of too much ‘guaro’ (local booze) over the weekend. We hired an excellent woodworker a couple of years ago with the same problem.
Basically, if somebody pulls a Binge Monday, the employer will put up with it if the worker is talented, but not at all in a worthless good-for-nothing - and then there is the whole spectrum in between.
We are well aware of our man’s binge problem and dutifully dock his pay every time he pulls the stunt. We put up with it because he is the best horse-whisperer in our price range on this side of the valley. He never uses spurs or a whip – always has lots of patience and understanding. He trained my super-sprinter Arabian mix, Matchi, to take it easy when we speak to him through the bit. Now he responds quickly and settles down, even though he is still a very young, competitive racer. Before, sometimes, Matchi used to bite down on the bit and just take off. And I had the bumps and scrapes to prove it.
Horseback riders! Learn how to skydive! You learn how to fall and this comes in handy when your stallion takes off on you, biting down hard on the bit and galloping out of control at racing speed – you grab that mane, crouch close and hang on, waiting for your chance to regain control. If he stumbles and you’re going down or if you decide you want to bail off of him, push free and roll when you hit the ground. I learned the technique skydiving but it’s easy to learn. Just takes practice.
Anyway, I don’t have to bail off horses anymore because of our horse trainer.
He also trained our most difficult horse, Lucero. Nobody could ride Lucero. He would plant his two forward feet on the ground and stop. And that was it – he wasn’t going another step forward. And if we pushed him too much – and I’m only talking just coaxing him a wee bit too much with our legs, Lucero would rear up and try to buck us all off. Me, Jose, Armando, Francie…he was becoming dangerous. It was time to call in a professional horse trainer.
Within a few weeks, our man calmed Lucero, only using his voice, soothing him and giving him time to trust humans. Sometimes, when we were out riding together, he would tell me to continue riding Matchi on ahead because he needed a bit more time with Lucero and he quickly became more responsive and even happy about going out for rides. So, excellent progress was made with riding him but Lucero had another, equally dangerous problem.
Somebody once hurt Lucero whilst shoeing him, and to this day, he doesn’t want to see the farrier within 50 feet of him. At first, we tried to hold and calm him while the farrier attempted to work but Lucero would have none of it. He would fight us and, if we didn’t back away, send us all flying through the air. The first farrier recommended Lucero for the matadero (slaughter house)! The second one attempted using sedatives but, guess what? Lucero hates injections too and will send anyone flying who even approaches him with a syringe! Believe me, we tried everything – distracting him with food and sneaking up behind him with the syringe. That worked once. Only once – after that, Lucero’s eyes could just spot that syringe and then there was no hope. I remember the last time we attempted to give Lucero a shot. He’d had a terrible, chronic cough and the vet felt that an injection was really necessary to get him the dose of antibiotic needed. What a day. Three of our guys used ropes and all their strength to try to hold Lucero still just long enough for the shot, but no way! Lucero went crazy on us again – screaming, with his eyes wild with terror, tail swishing, head bobbing - trembling body wet with sweat - and somehow Lucero sent the syringe flying. Our disgusted vet had had enough. He told me that he would not give Lucero any more injections until we built a proper structure to secure him.
So what was our solution to this difficult horse? I took off his shoes, we stopped giving him injections for his chronic cough, and we gave him a vacation. His cough cleared up within days – we have now verified that his cough was essentially stress induced – his stress would flare up old pulmonary scar tissue. After his hooves hardened up nicely without shoes, our horse trainer resumed riding him and he is now my favorite horse – calm, responsive and full of health and energy. He loves to canter but also likes a nice long trot or even a pleasant walk along the forest trail.
The trainer also rides our frisky, white criollo, Solo – who really performs at barrel and needle racing as well as our beautiful baby boy, Volcan. At this point, we could easily survive without a horse trainer, and might have to for financial reasons someday, but I am grateful to him for turning around two difficult horses and making horseback riding much safer for me and the kids.
And who am I to judge anyone on Binge Monday? I remember pulling lots of boozy all-nighters back when we were in our 30’s living in Madrid. One time, we partied all night and drove to the airport next morning to pick up some friends coming in from New York. And then I got dressed and went to work. Couldn’t do that today. Now we’re in bed before 10PM!
Bird Alert: mangos and avocados all fruiting. Grab your binoculars for some good birding.
Lots of Morpho butterflies now! Tigre has Morphos all year but I’m seeing more of them and they are mating! – they pair up, flutter about the forest together, stopping and landing on leaves here and there.. If you want lots of Morphos, plant Machaeriums.
In seed and fruit:
Bumper crop of Ceiba pentandra! All around the massive Ceiba tree, white, fluffy cotton balls – laden with Ceiba seeds- cover the ground like snow. Armando had never seen anything like it in all his years working and living here. As we gathered the cotton, piling it into big bags, dozens of fluffy Ceiba cotton balls drifted lazily down all around us like a magical tropical snow storm. We took pictures of the whole scene but the floating cottonballs in the photos look more like light-filled flying fairies. Hey! Maybe this is how stories get started! Or maybe it’s just lousy photography. In any case, we have enough cotton to last us a lifetime and enough seeds for everyone! Just write me. Remember, Ceiba pentandra (f. Bombacaceae) is a massive, tropical tree that does best planted in a forest near water.
Also in fruit now at Reserva El Tigre: among others, I saw Myrtas, Eugenias, Aguacatillas, Cupanias, Thounidium, Cassias, Sennas, Malphighia, Roupala, Gliricidia species, and Maclura tinctoria (f. Moraceae) – we don’t know where the female is yet but we’re seeing a slew of males – still looking. Also flowering, are a slew of vines and herbaceous plants.
Lonchocarpus species just starting to bud but it’s all over for the Miconias. It rained today, so much more botanical action in store for us down in the forest tomorrow.

Semana Santa

Jose holds up a deadly Coral snake he killed just outside Janet’s apartment on Easter Sunday. Note the color bands: Red & Yellow May Kill a Fellow. Also found at Tigre: harmless false-corals with black separating yellow and red bands and they are not complete circles.

Holy Week. Traditionally celebrated in Costa Rica with huge, crowded Christian processions held in just about every Costa Rican village and town. Passion - they really get physical on Good Friday – in some towns, the designated Jesus actually drags a cross and gets hung up; then, on Saturday, he gets shrouded, hefted up by many hands and carried down the streets; and by the Resurrection on Sunday, just about everyone is carrying home some incoherent body from all the family fiestas… Everybody is on vacation - No work! No school! Off to the beach, river or mountains; camping, sporting and having a great time.

We stayed home the entire week except Wednesday, when the Four Horsemen celebrated their 9th Annual British Birthday Boys Party. This year it was a rather subdued affair. Pestilence continues to recover from surgery, and couldn’t party to excess, though he did manage to moon the camera… War’s family abandoned him for the beach. Death is taking more care what he eats and drinks these days. Famine was exhausted with a sore throat and coughing - and no, he would not accept any honey-lemony-herbal remedy from the likes of me; only a dose of Gin & Tonic would do. He is still readjusting to paradise after a week in pleasantly chilly (to him) Michigan.

Normally, during Semana Santa, our employees prefer to stay home and work, and get paid overtime - but not this year. Everybody wanted to go camping. Where did they go? Right here at Finca El Tigre’s Rancho Abajo. Why would Janet and the Parra gang prefer to sleep in the jungle with all those nocturnal creatures – big scary spiders and deadly snakes, when they could remain in the comfort of their own beds, just 500 meters up the road? Because camping is fun!

And what does that mean for us? We find ourselves with the whole place to ourselves. Home alone! No staff. Yippee! Let’s go all out and play one of our favorite games – Guard Patrol. So we don our N.O.L.A. S.W.A.T. caps and head out to do the rounds. Up at the water tanks we have a view of the entire Finca, and on out to the Nicoya Peninsula. The Guards meet for a tryst at the stable yard, where the dogs still laze around. The dogs take over night duty at dusk.

We visit the chickens. We watch Roger the Rooster pace back and forth just outside the hen house, strutting his stuff and puffing his feathers. Should we let the girls out and get a good show? Chicken watching is such fun – you definitely learn all about ‘pecking order’ - seems every animal has a behavior we can recognize in the human species. And Roger Rooster has such fun going after all his girls.

But it’s too late in the day and predators lurk about!

We finish patrol back in the kitchen for gin & tonics, glasses filled with ice. Solar living is good with modern, efficient appliances. The dogs take over the patrol for the night.

So much has suddenly burst into bloom! The entire countryside has fragrance in the air from blooming coffee and citrus and so much more…
…Solanaceae species are in bloom and fruit. Need I say more? The family of strong medicines, poisons, intoxicating fragrances and … mankind’s beloved tomato. In the garden, I associate the Solanac family with exotic scents and spices and sensory pleasures. Everywhere, the butterflies, birds and bees flutter all around the Actinus arborescens (Guittite) creating a mouth-dropping spectacle. You just stand there, paralyzed, watching the scene. Time seems to stand still. So many species of bees and wasps – an entomologist’s treasure trove. Other El Tigre Solanacs in bloom/fruit: Brugmansia candida, Datura species (Deadly Nightshade), Solanums (Naranjillas), Capsicums (Full range of peppers from Sweet to Piquant such as Tabasco, Habanero, Cayenne, etc.), Cestrum species (strong smells: sometimes enticing, sometimes stinky), Nicotiana tabacum (yes, the smoking kind but we don’t).

Achiotillo (Vismea baccifera CLUSIAC.) is also blooming and fruiting. A few of the white-faced monkeys at El Tigre rub the orange sap all over their faces as a kind of makeup. This morning, some of the monkeys were climbing all over the canopy of a huge Miconia argentea (Santa Maria) tree, feasting on the fruits and not paying any attention to Flopsy and me, sitting below. The dogs used to bark and harass the monkeys, and the monkeys responded by throwing sticks and fruits down at them. Now they just ignore each other. This is progress - becoming harmless to each other…

There’s great bird watching now with so much in fruit. It is said that to see the birds, look for the fruiting trees and insect habitats. At Tigre, just sit down near a fruiting tree and enjoy the show. It takes a few minutes for the birds to get used to your presence, but soon they come right back out and begin feeding again and you get a great show. If you want a list of bird species at El Tigre, then Google: bird list, Hacienda El Rodeo, Mora, Costa Rica. One of the best bird-watching trees in bloom right now is the Hortiga (Urera baccifera). Saw a kind of bright, orange-breasted warbler - not sure what - Skutches Book still in storage. What I’ve learned is that you don’t need to walk to find birds - sorry Bill and Cyndy! But Cyndy did it though, after battling and winning breast cancer – she hiked all the way to Tigre hill and back.

Billy B. Boa

Jose holding Billy B. Boa
The guys found Billy B. Boa heading for the hen house for a quick snack. Everybody came over for a look and all of the kids decided that they liked Billy B. He was so easy going that we could almost pick him up and drape him around our shoulders. But Jose quite rightly reminded us that Billy is a big boy and might constrict a bit too hard so they settled for just petting him for a while. Then we decided to relocate him away from the hen house. Jose found a branch for Billy to wrap around and then hoisted him up and hauled him off to his new home: a large Fig tree located just below the house.
What a parade. Jose led the way holding Billy aloft on the branch, Billy’s head bobbing around lazily, looking us over with aristocratic aplomb, as if this was quite the natural thing - to be treated with the proper pomp and circumstance accorded to his species. All of the kids followed behind, everyone all excited about our new pet - a very laid-back Boa Constrictor. Marcia and I darted around the scene taking photographs and Janet brought up the rear, bellowing her fury at us all - How Billy would eat the cats and small dogs. How she wanted that Boa down in the Charral, far, far away. How if animals went missing it would be our fault for adopting that blasted Boa. Janet was really pissed. Well, she need not have fretted.
Billy lasted one night and disappeared. We have not seen him back at the hen house. No hens have gone missing yet, even the wild ones wandering around the stable yard with their little chicks. I think Billy took Janet’s suggested and headed down to the Charral. A few months a go, I saw a huge Boa down there. Perhaps it will meet Billy and they can be friends. Or perhaps one will kill the other. Such is the way with the jungle. One thing is for sure, Janet utterly denies taking the machete to him!

Besides Billy B., another mascot has adopted us: Iggy, the Orchid Eating Iguana. We discovered Iggy the morning I had planned to photograph a magnificent cattleya orchid, just budding into bloom. The orchid suddenly disappeared from the night before – the flowers and the whole plant – gone! Was it those blasted Toucans? No, our orchid-eater was none other than Iggy, whom we had unwittingly dislodged from an old stone wall pulled down a few weeks before. So he moved to the big Guazuma tree located next to the house where we have a lot of orchids. Had.

March in Michigan…
…is still winter, make no mistake about it. The Lake-effect brings in the snow and, if you see the sun shining bright & sunny through your kitchen window, don’t go outside - not even for a minute - it’s even colder when the sun’s out. Freezing, tear-cicle making cold of the crying kind. Even the kids take regular breaks from ice skating to thaw out their frozen feet. They sit inside, sipping hot chocolate until their feet starts to burn, hot as fire, thawing out slowly, but the kids can’t take the burning pain so they go back out on the skating rink again and it feels better. I know that feeling well.
When it starts to snow, the temperature rises to around freezing point – perfect for skating, snow skiing and building snow forts - winter wonderland fun - the sort that kids live for. Not working adults. Not most adults and certainly Not Gerald.
So why is Gerald flying up to Michigan on March 11th - on his 59th birthday!!!
Because he is a Saint and I owe him. I don’t have my passport this week - our lawyer needed it for residency paperwork – and I can’t travel without it.
Mom is suffering from a horrible case of shingles! She feels intense pain alternating with prickly numbness and has lost mobility of her left hand. On top of that, Cyril is in the hospital with major vascular problems. So even if she could, mom isn’t allowed into the hospital because she is contagious for anyone who has not had Chicken Pox. Both are deeply depressed. Mom is usually a strong, straighten your back and carry on sort of pragmatic, self sufficient person but I could tell by her voice on the phone that we needed to go to Michigan immediately.
…but first I had to get my passport back and sort out construction decisions…and I was so upset by how my mom sounded that I couldn’t stay objective so Gerald agreed to go immediately.
You know that Elton John song: “When you are down, I’ll be your clown”. Oh how Gerald knows how to make us laugh!
So he will go to Michigan and get them howling over his latest batch of bawdy jokes, run errands for them, review health plans, cook lavish dinners, play scrabble, debate Atlantic magazine articles, gape at history unfolding on CNN, soak in the hot tub with grandpa…
Be a wonderful son-in-law. Thank you my love for getting up on your 59th birthday and exchanging paradise for a visit to your sick in-laws in Michigan. Yes, ladies, I am lucky…wait a minute…
…wasn’t that Gerald seen over at Ryan’s Pub in New Orleans? He was standing at the bar with a big crowd until well after midnight on, wasn’t that March 11th?
Well, yes it was. Gerald couldn’t get a direct flight from Costa Rica to Detroit and he needed to pickup some winter clothes anyway so decided to pop into New Orleans for an overnight. Well, two nights actually. And the party’s just getting started down in the French Quarter after midnight. So he had a happy end to his birthday after all!
He continued to Michigan Thursday and called me from Ann Arbor.
Turns out that the weather has turned the corner and Michigan is now basking in balmy temperatures approaching 50 degrees Fahrenheit! I can just see the Frat boys in Ann Arbor, sunbathing up on the roof, relishing the fine weather.
University of Michigan is my Alma Mater. I even send them money once in while, much to Gerald’s chagrin. “Why send them more money after spending thousands already in tuition?” Well, most of us alumni just do. I spent my formative years at U.M. College of Pharmacy, learning, growing, playing and recovering. Interesting, I use my pharmacy knowledge more just living here in the forest at El Tigre – mixing repellant lotions and the like – than working in the hospital or retail pharmacy, where it was more production-line work than truly helping people. I loved working in small, independent pharmacies where I could get to know everyone. Not many of those left now - gone the way of the corner grocery store.
Friday
Talked to mom yesterday and she and Cy already sound much better on the phone. Perhaps other family will also manage to dig out of snow storms and visit as well. Who knows? Gerry might end up with a house full of my relatives up there in Michigan.
Meanwhile, I’m managing El Tigre and dealing with the house renovation. We are well into the finishing phase with a lot of painting and furniture decisions. Can you imagine Gerald left in charge of selecting colors and textures? I’d end up coming home to something looking, at best, like Ye Olde English Pub. Or who knows what. He swears that he’s not color blind but his perception of green is not the same as mine, which he calls blue or grey. We are past the 15th deadline but not by much. April 2nd is moving day!
Latest at El Tigre:
La Tigre came home yesterday morning and she is beautiful. Thank you Sylvia for creating a magnificent Vitral Pintada that captures Finca El Tigre at sunset with a well-fed Jaguar lounging contentedly within a magical, colorful jungle. We have named the stained-glass work of art, what else? -- ‘La Tigre’. The scene changes continuously with the light and shading during the day – and the colors burst forth with backlighting, producing a breathtaking work of art. Sylvia Laks is definitely the artist you want if you’re looking for a stained-glass painted work of art, large or small.

In the forest, we have noted much less leaf drop this year due to the long rainy season. The trails feel much cooler and shadier than typical for the dry season and hiking is delightful. On the down side, we have seen far fewer flowers and seeds than previous, dryer seasons.
No/very few flowers/No seeds – Better luck next year! : Cedrelas, Brosimums, Cojoba arborea, Pseudobombax septenatum, Lysilomas, Terminalia oblonga, T. Amazonia, Bernoullia flammea, Gyrocarpus jatrophifolius, Hura crepitans
In bloom now: Species of Acacias, Bauhinia, Crotons, Cupanias, some Cassias and Sennas, Gliricidia sepium, Ingas, Enterolobium cyclocarpum, Albizia, Miconia argentea, Plumerias, Tabebuias, vines in Sapindac and Bignoniac families. Many herbaceous flowering now – gorgeous Hortiga blooms.
Fruits & Seeds: Thounidium decandrum, Ceiba pentandra, Hymenea courbaril, some legumes, Citrus, bananas, Jorcos- Garcinia intermedia, Luehea seemannii, Guazuma ulmifolia, Ocotea veraguensis, Picramnia antidesma & latifolia, Sloanea terniflora