There is so much to tell, and many of these topics deserve way more discussion than they will get here today. Stay tuned for more on those later. But in a kind of “brain dump” exercise, here are miscellaneous observations, cultural adjustments, and just plain old Costa Rica quirkiness that takes some getting used to.
Just because you see a guy walking down the street with a machete, it doesn’t mean he’s up to no good. Many laborers and every gardener in the country has a machete, and they wield them with incredible precision. It’s a thing of beauty to watch them work. But it took me more than a few times to not flinch when seeing a guy just wandering down the road swinging the giant blade. There is an impressive machete display in the hardware store; even seeing that scared the bejesus out of me.
Costa Rica is home to approximately a swillion dormant volcanoes, but five of them are active. When we got to the country and stayed in a vacation rental for our first month, the prominent volcano in that part of the country is Arenal - a spectacular example of what a volcano should look like. It’s beautiful, every single time you look at it. Now that we have moved to a different region, the prominent volcano is Poas. We can see that range from our side patio. Poas has been the teeniest bit cranky lately, sending out “ash burps” that smell sulfur-like and send particulates into the air. It’s nothing to be truly alarmed about, but some people do pull out face masks because it can be irritating to the respiratory system. A friend told us that the ash burps are actually a good thing, likening them to a old-fashioned pressure cooker - “it lets off pressure a little bit at a time. You want it to do this. If it didn’t, it would build up too much pressure, and …” He stopped there and in the silence, we smelled sulfur and thanked the Universe that Poas was letting off steam a little at a time.
I am not fond of ants by any stretch of the imagination, although I do appreciate their industriousness and determination. Never mind the little “ghost ants” some of you are familiar with - hello to all my Florida friends! - there are truly badass ants here that hail from Argentina. After my first ant bite, suffered while hanging out clothes, I started applying insect repellent to my feet and ankles when I wasn’t wearing full shoes. The ants barely blinked - “I scoff at your repellent, but good try!” - and bit me anyway. We are still searching for an answer to the Argentinian ants. I am going to the hardware store today to ask for serious ant killer. I know that’s bad for my karma, but I don’t know what else to do.
In keeping with the Ticos-are-amazing theme, service here is all-out. They don’t do anything halfway. Gas stations are full service, just like when I was a kid and loved watching the windshield get washed. As soon as we pull up to the gas pump, attendants race to our car. By the time the tank is full, our windshield is clean, tire pressure is checked, and we’re back on the road with a “con gusto” from the attendants. By the way, fuel prices here are government controlled, so searching for the cheapest gas has been rendered moot. Also in banks here, there is a “Servicios Preferenciales” section, which means pregnant women or women with small children, handicapped persons, and senior citizens get their own waiting section and bankers. I feel almost pampered here with all the service.
Speaking of banking, oh my lord. The security has to be experienced to be believed. There are ATM machines in the lobby, but that’s where similarities to U.S. banks end. To get into the main body of the bank, visitors go through an enclosed chamber one at a time. While Brooke was in, Melanie and I waited our turn. When the guard decided Brooke checked out ok, she was admitted to the bank. The outside door of the chamber opened again, Melanie went in and then the door to the bank opened on the other side. Same thing for me. On our first trip to the bank, Brooke gave us the ground rules - no sunglasses, no hats, no photos in the bank. Essentially, it all boils down to this - if I’m going to do something untoward in a bank, cameras are going to get a good clear shot of my face. We’re getting used to the in-and-out-through-a-chamber thing, but I am still wary inside a bank. (I guess it would make more sense for me to relax in a bank because everybody there is so heavily scrutinized, but I am still terrified to even take a photo of the “Servicios Preferenciales” sign.) I am on my best behavior in a Costa Rica bank … which I guess means their efforts are working well.
I had an interesting experience making an appointment to see a doctor here. I was given the name of a recommended private doctor (we are still waiting for our universal health care to kick in) and here’s how that went. “Just send her a message on WhatsApp,” Brooke suggested. “Really? I just message her directly?” So I did, politely explaining that I am recently here from the U.S. and need to have something checked out. She responded with, “Of course, when would you like to come?” Dumbfounded, I said “Um … this week? Next?” “What day and time?” she asked, then followed that up with her available appointments. An hour appointment costs about what an insurance co-pay would cost in the States - 25,000 Costa Rican colones (about $50). “I am happy to serve you and help you with what you need,” she said in a 10 p.m. text. I’m still incredulous that I texted her, she texted back and I will see her this week.
Things you see everywhere here: cows, clothes hanging on a line or draped on a porch, dogs, soccer fields, motorcycles, amazingly beautiful churches, bakeries. Every town has a central park with flowers, gazebos, benches, and activities. Town squares are always teeming with people, heavily used as I believe town squares should be. Generally speaking, bordering or near the town square are things like the bank, the clinic, the church, the produce market, bakeries galore, and beautiful flowers. This is one of my favorite things about Costa Rica. More to come on the town-square experience.
Driving - don’t even get me started on driving here. Technically, I have not actually experienced the driving part of being here yet, as Melanie jumped into that with both feet, fearless as you know she is. Me, I’m way more cautious and need to observe traffic patterns and learn rules of the road before I am ready to tackle the driving part - right now, being a passenger is challenging enough. From what I can tell so far, the only real rule of the road here is that everyone has a right to the road and takes what they need of it. Narrow mountain roads and one-way bridges only add to the excitement. Signs announcing an upcoming narrow bridge ("Puente Angosto") are accompanied on one side by a yield sign (“CEDA”) - that side waits for oncoming cars to pass until the bridge is clear. Once we understood that rule - thank you, Brooke - it got a titch easier but we’re still very vigilant on the road. “Bridge,” one of us will say when we see the sign. “Ceda?” the other of us will ask as we peel our eyes for the yield sign.
Semi trucks, gardener trucks, construction vehicles, tourists - everybody uses the same mountain roads, in the Central Valley anyway, so the going can be interminably slow. The upside to that is the incredible beauty of the countryside around you as you go. Then there’s this: Sometimes the reason for a car stopped on the highway (with emergency flashers on) is that an iguana is crossing. Iguanas are enormous. Huge. Cars with observant drivers will wait for them to cross. We experienced this recently, but I was so stunned at this amazing miniature dinosaur that I wasn’t able to get a photo or video. We were just actively cheering for him to make it across safely. He did, but he had to really scoot to avoid a taxi with a less-than-compassionate driver.
Tico Time is a real phenomenon. It simply means that appointments are mere suggestions, give or take a while. If your "appointment" is at 9 a.m., your doctor or lawyer or contractor might show up around 9:20 or so, and nobody worries about it much. Time works the other way, too. Our gardener, who was returning to finish a job he'd started the day before, wanted to beat the heat (and also the guy who would haul away the debris) so he came back at 4:30 a.m. To his credit, he told us that ahead of time, so I got up at 4 o'clock to open the gate. Melanie, of course, jumped right out there with him to help with the gardening. (Not my thing, so I stayed inside, drank incredible CR coffee and wrote this post.) Here's how much of a haircut the gardener gave our yard to clear it of old debris and overgrowth (looks much better now):
The equatorial sun here is wicked. You don’t just rest your arm on the open window of your car for, say, 20 minutes - you’ll blister and peel. Or at least I did. Lesson learned there.
Finally, I can’t imagine that waking up to this magical splendor every morning will ever get old. An all-out bird symphony accompanies a beautiful sunrise every day. It’s easy to practice mindfulness and gratitude here. I just look around, breathe in, whisper “Wow, thank you. Amazing.” This is sunrise at our home just this morning - we are so blessed.
