A mysterious sleeper

So we have an additional presence in our house. It is small, quiet now, almost unnoticed, but unusual enough it has to be mentioned. Although it hangs outside, we can see it, discuss it, even photograph it. What is it you may ask? This small visitor of the night? I'll let you guess.

The Beast came back today. With great fondness I saw it pull through the gate. It has been over a week since it left, and now it has returned, pretty little sticker in tow. It passed the Costa Rican Smog test after three times! Our little rental Bego has been returned to the rental stable, with our warmest regards. Now what is the future of our loyal steed? I do not know, only that it is home now for a while and running good. No air, but that is a minor issue with the rains on the way.

Raining and Reading

It rained really hard tonight. Downpour actually and we had to drive home in it. Potholes turned into pools of water, frogs outnumber pedestrians, and the jungle sparkled with fire flies through it all. Darkness without street lights makes for an interesting guessing game of where the usual bumps and dips are. Some spots were deep enough that a wave of water splashed out away from the car and turned our headlight color red.

Earlier we'd been in Tamarindo when the clouds rolled in. We were swimming at the Diria and suddenly this on slot of rain started to pummel us. Laughing we all scurried into the pool where the water was warmer then the rain. Swimming in the rain is kind of strange, wetness upon wetness without holding your breath. I haven't done that in a long time. Once the lightning started we evacuated quickly, don't want to be in a pool when that strikes. I actually got cold but the locals told me to enjoy it. It won't happen often.

So as I've enjoyed my time here, I've come across several books that I would like to recommend. One is titled, "A Chance to Die" by Elisabeth Elliot. Robin actually gave it to my mom as a Christmas gift and after she read it, she passed it along to me. Thanks Robin! It tells the true story of a woman missionary by the name of Amy Carmichael and her service to those in India. Talk about a woman in touch with God. She was so strong and confident in the Lord that he did amazing things through her. It is a heavy read, but will revive your soul with passion and fire.

The second is called "Bridge Called Hope" by Kim Meeder, who runs Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch, a place that rescues horses and heals broken souls. It is a collection of short stories by the author about how God works through the horses to show others love and understanding. I was balling through most of it, the stories so touching, and I'd love to visit the place some day. It is located in Oregon. Anyone up for a road trip? This is her second book, the first called "Hope Rising" is still about the ranch, but I haven't read it yet. Kind of hard to find books down here.

So if you have a spare moment and are browsing the library shelves, look these two up and you'll find a refreshing connection with our Lord and Savior. If anyone else knows of good, Christian books, pass the titles along. I might not be able to find them down here, but I'll definatly keep them on the to read list!

Things to get used to

Since today has been a normal Costa Rican day I wanted to make a little list of things you need to get used too while living here. If you want to enjoy Costa Rican life you need to realize a few things:

1. There is no such thing as street signs. When you're given directions or giving them for that matter it is by land marks, sites, even the sleeping dog at the corner market. I got directions recently and was told that I needed to go past the bus stop building (It was a wooden shack with no one inside so I guess I'd missed the bus) and then turn at the second gate on the left. Meaning the roped shut, iron rod fortress with a dirt trail that appeared to disappear into a deep river bed. No house in sight. Needless to say I got lost, had to call, and still drove by it several times.

2. There is no such thing as a two way bridge in most areas. Here it is a yield on one side, and you'd better make sure you know which side or you'll get a very direct over the edge view of the dried riverbed below.

3. Stopping on any road is acceptable for any reason. Don't even start to wander why the car in front of you has suddenly braked. Simply go around.

4. Sidewalks are things only found in movies and roads are for everyone, not just cars.

5.You will get a flat tire, many in fact. Just tell yourself it's a good survival skill to have and know where you can get your tire fixed. This is not a whim, but a must know piece of information.

6. Hitch-hiking and picking up hitch-hikers is normal.

7. Used cars still go for "new car" prices. You'll learn to spot the tourist rides - shiny and new, from the locals - dusty and used.

8.To take most short cuts you'll need a 4x4. If you don't have one, don't take it.

9. Beans and rice are a meal, not a side dish.

10. Bananas and Pineapple are cheap and delicious.

11. There are ranks of roads: lowest is dirt, middle is paved, highest is paved with reflectors.

12. Not all roads are paved, enjoy them when you find them.

13. Air conditioning is an upgrade, not a standard.

14. There are only two seasons, rainy and dry.

15. Libraries are really an amazing gift of the government and are missed by all here. Enjoy them people you hear me!!!

16. You will find yourself comparing everything to back in the states and hear yourself saying, "this is so expensive compared too . . ." or "this is so cheap compared too . . ."

17. You will get good at rounding colones into dollars in your head. Who knew you'd one day be good at math!!

18. When you ask for water, it will come in a bottle and you will be charged for it.

19. Eggs do not be refrigerated. That is a U.S myth.

20. Powdered milk is not a military end of times ration food, but a healthy alternative when raw milk is not available.

21. Milk in cardboard cartons does not need to be refrigerated. It is really just for show.

22. Electrical power comes and goes, just make sure you do what needs to be done now and don't put it off. Hey wait, aren't we always supposed to do that??? (Oops the power went out for a moment!)

23. Hearing howler monkeys where you live and seeing them in the wild is not part of Disney's Wild Life safari.

24. You can fit three people on a scooter or motorcycle.

25. Police check points are not to see if you're driving drunk, but whether you have your passport.

26. A man standing out side a bank, or in it, holding a rifle is not robbing it. He is protecting it.

27. Fires here are not a matter of arson or calls to the fire department. They are a way of cleaning up the brush. Just stand back and watch them burn.

28. Wavier, what is this word you speak of??

29. Professional surfers live here, they are not simply doing a "celebrity" circuit.

30. You can buy gifts actually on the beach such as ceramic vases, necklaces and bracelets.

31. Having someone clean your house is not a luxury but a normality.

32. Locals are called Ticos, those that are not are called "Expats, Gringos, or Tourists."

33. Traffic only occurs when cattle are crossing the road.

34. Everything is measured in Kilometers, miles simply don't exist.

35. You can go to a church with no walls, literally!

36. Costa Rican Walmarts are called Maxi Bodagas.

37. It is "cold" when the temperature drops to 75 degrees.

38. Knowing Spanish makes living here easier. You will learn it!!

39. Robbery is not a story on the late night news, but what happens to those you know. It is all called the Costa Rican Baptism.

40. Bars over windows is for your stuff's protection, not your own personal protection.

41. Parrots are really birds, not ones that you only find in exotic pet shops or at the zoo.

42. Living with bugs is a balance, not an extermination.

43. The sunrises between 5:30 and 6am, YEAR ROUND!

44. Time? Who knows the time here?

45. Hammocks are beds, not just relaxing swings.

46. Iguanas are dinosaurs. Welcome to Jurassic park!!

47. Cows here have really big ears that stick out sideways. They're also happier *wink*

48. If you need a dog, pick up a stray, they're everywhere.

49. Seeing the ribs on a horse or dog means it on the Costa Rican diet. Seeing a plump one means it's American fed.

50. Even if no sign is posted, there still may be a parking fee enforced.

51. If you go out during afternoon hours, you will get burned. No exception.

52. Laundry hanging on the line - efficient. Not antiquated.

53. Dumping trash where you want is fine, where else would you put it?

54. Wave and you will receive one in kind.

55. Costa Rican beef is tough. Chewy, stick between your teeth, gnaw till your jaw falls out tough. Stick with the chicken.

56. Plantains are an amazing dessert. Who needs sugar!!

57. Oranges are not orange but yellow and tart. There is no such thing as a lemon, just limes.

58. If you need a public bus to stop, just tell them. They'll stop and let you off. If you need them to pick you up, just wave them down.

59. You will wait your turn for gas.

60. You will plan a special trip to go get gas.

61. Mosquitoes will find you. You will itch. You will survive.

62. If you need medical help, you will go to San Jose. If you are having a baby you will go to San Jose. If you need a surgery you will go to San Jose. If you want to get medicine you will go to San Jose. (San Jose is four hours away)

63. You can get everything you need in San Jose.

64. Living in Costa Rica is always an adventure!

Life on the Farm - Day Six

Finca Log 240410. Our mission, to boldly go where God has led us and to discover ways of living that will sustain us and challenge our modern mindsets of comfort . . .

Last night the power went out, then on, then out, then on, then . . . . well you get the idea. Needless to say this morning it was off and we were out of electricity and water. Since the water is on a pump system and the pump is powered by electricity we are without bathing, toilet, and drinking water. It is only our sixth day on the farm and already we're getting the full experience. We decided to do some exploring in hopes of returning to power but first had to change another flat tire. That makes 2 in three months. Not bad, at least we had a spare that wasn't flat or bald this time. We're still driving the rental so that explains why.

We ate at this small cafe with all sorts of glass working windows, frames and flooring. It was a special gem discovery and breakfast was delicious. I don't know what it is but every time I eat beans and rice at a restaurant it has so much flavor but when I cook them, nothing. Just blah. I need to discover the secret, perhaps sneak into the kitchen behind the cat and spy on the cook. It is probably something I shouldn't' be eating which is what makes it so good. Either way I'd like to know.

Now the power is back on but the pump system is not working so still no water. God has blessed us with being close to the beach so we can always go and rinse off if we get too grimy. We might do that later today. So that's the update from the Finca . . .

Poison Melon

Costa Rica is divided up into Providences. We live in the Guanacaste Province which is known for growing most of the countries melons, including watermelon, cantaloupe, and honeydew. Now the watermelon here is wonderfully juicy, sweet and just dissolves in your mouth. It is especially refreshing after you've been out at the beach all day. When the coolness breaks into your mouth, and the sweet juice slips down your throat, a sigh escapes your lips at the moment of pure joy.

Well that must end today. No more! I learned that there are so many pesticides on the melons grown here that the locals won't touch them. I guess that explains the numerous roadside stands that sale them. I did wonder why there were so many selling watermelons. With sadness I must put aside my fondness for the sweet sandia and avoid all tempting glances and associations with the fruit. A single tear slips down my face at the ending of such a wonderful relationship, but just like the poisoned apple, it may look lovely but it will kill me. Such simplicity here. Sigh.

My sadness was quickly washed away as the thunder rolled and the lightening flashed. Our first real day of rain came. As we stood watching from the beach, dark thunderheads grumbled and crawled our way as we smiled with anticipation. At first it was light, a small hiss of water touching the dryness of the earth; but soon it was pouring and we all stood on the porch watching, breathing in the scent of nature's mist, and enjoying the start of a whole new time for us. Let it rain Lord, oh let it rain.

Macheting a coconut

Now I've had my fair share of pina coladas, virgin of course, but I've never had to work for one. Have you ever tried to open a coconut? I hadn't till today. Let me tell you, I thought machetes were only for whacking your way through the jungle, but they are not. They also act as indestructible spears that crack open the armored shell of a coconut. Who knew?

I did that today, cleaved open two coconuts and felt Neanderthal-ish grunting and swinging, making sure my hands were not in range of the sharp blade. I also felt like Indiana Jane, tipping my hat back, sweat tricking down my back, as I stood out in the driveway, eying the booby trapped contraption with life giving milk inside. Opening them is not the hard part if you have a jungle slicing stick, the next part is.

Have you ever pried the flesh out of a coconut? Taken a knife and sliced into the white flesh, using the tip to fling a small chunk across the room or into someone's hair? Try it some time when you want a work out and you'll discover what joy it is after hours of chiseling away. I'll never complain again about the price of shredded coconut. It is way to much work for something that doesn't really taste that good on it's own. Now the pineapple on the other hand, I'll slice the skin off that mound in a heart beat and devour the flesh. Who needs the colada part anyway? Cheers!

Strange Pod

Found this strange pod today when we were out exploring the property. There are seeds inside each little pocket pouch and when you shake it, it rattles. It reminds me of a rattle snakes tail and I shake it like a music maker and animals scamper away. They think I'm the snake. I just hope the snake doesn't think I'm a snake and come to make friends.

Trits Addict

Today I sent a Moneygram. It's kind of like a candy gram with cash instead of a singing bear. I sent it to Nicaragua for my Spanish school. Nova, a wonderful friend and fluent spanish speaker accompanied me so she could translate. We went to the first office but they were closed (on a Wednesday, really! Why? a possible suggestion was they were on lunch) Luckily Nova knew of another place and we entered Tamarindo and went to BAC San Jose. A small glass windowed bank with a security guard that takes his job seriously.

At first we were standing around waiting our turn, we were the only ones waiting, when he comes up and points to a ticket dispenser. He says in spanish that we need to take a number. We look at each other and trying not to laugh, take the next number, 41. There is no one in the lobby but us and yet we need to take a number. So I stand holding the number waiting for the next teller, who calls my number and we approach the glassed window with a slit for transactions.

This double approach of the window is not allowed and he steps in to wave Nova back. Oh please no don't send my translator away, I think. Nova quickly explains her role and the teller confirms that it is alright. He hesitates, eying us with suspicion and moves a step back, still glaring. I choke down a swallow feeling like we're about to commit a crime and carry on with the transaction. In no time at all we're finished, receipt in hand and leaving the bank. The guard is only too quick to open the door and usher us out, still giving us a hard look. I thank him and then quickly run for the car praying I'll escape my legal action without arrest.

Next we run a few more errands and then lunch. Nova takes me to a local joint, where you eat cafeteria style and we get some great food. She also introduces me to Hugo de Tamarindo. A refreshing juice made from a root or seed, she couldn't remember and sweetened. It was very good and I drank mine all before I even started eating.

After a few more errands we had to go and get gas (a twenty minute drive one way). While they were pumping Nova asked if I'd ever had a Trits Ice Cream. No, I reply and she disappears inside the shop claiming I have to try one.She returns with this small plastic tube with a yellow lid and hands it to me. Do I need a spoon? Do I lick it? How do I eat this and drive I wonder. She pops off the lid when she sees my confusion and dumps out the largest most delicious looking ice cream sandwich on steroids I've ever seen. With an inch thick layer of creamy vanilla ice cream and rich chocolate fudge captured between two butter golden gram cookies that crumble like powdered goodness and mingle with the ice cream, I hold a piece of near heaven in my hand. After my first bite my eyes glass over and things sort of fade away. I think I moaned allowed several times on the drive home but I was in good company. Nova laughed and joined in making glorious sounds of pleasure at the sweet surrender of goodness. I've just been introduced to the wonderful new Costa Rican Drug here and I'm hooked. I'm a Trits addict now and not afraid to admit it. I can't wait to start dealing and introducing others to this Costa Rican specialty. Care to try one?

After I dropped Nova off at a Bull farm where she works and almost get gored by one of the passing bulls, I drive home with the windows down, music blaring and pass by the marker. A small tombstone, alone on the side of road, that always brings a moment of silence. I wonder why it's there, what it represents, who it belongs to. Perhaps one day I'll find out, but until them I'll just have to wonder and guess.

Picking up Hitchhikers

So you know the horror tales that go along with hitchhiking right. Killed, murdered, car jacked, robbed, the movie theme that no good deed goes unpunished? Well I took that risk today and picked up three local woman thumbing it on the way to Avellanas.

Now it was just me, so don't think I endangered anyone else's lives, especially the boys. I've been wanting to help but I'm usually to chicken to actually do something. I did it today though, with God's huge help for sure. I was going to pass them, saw them thumbing and then slammed on the brakes bringing the car to a skidding stop. All three piled in with smiles and we were off. We swapped names, I don't remember any of them the adrenaline was pumping, and I learned that they sale the necklaces and vases on the beach. I wanted to ask why they wore long sleeves and pants all the time as they sold them, but haven't learned enough Spanish yet to voice it. The trip went quickly and soon I was dropping them off at the fork in the road toward Lola's and their beach work. We waved and parted my heart still racing, the thought that I had done it bringing a smile to my face. Thank you God for pushing down the break today or I would have just kept driving.

The English speakers here talk about picking up hitchhikers. They say when you arrive you'll do it and then "learn better." Sounds frightening, I think, envisioning knives being pulled and attacked. Oh nothing that serious they assure me, just that you'll get tired of being asked for money, for work, for both and also there can be a few unstable crayons in the box that definitely color outside the lines. With all this positive reinforcement I'd like to do it again. To push past the fear, the safety of my cultural bubble and the whispered words of danger. Is it safe? Wise as a serpent harmless as a dove, my mom always says. So when it is wise to push past the fear and ignore it? When should I listen? Should we even have fear? Isn't that doubting that God is in control?

Today I pushed out of my transparent bubble and extended a minuscule hand of help. Did I live? Yes. Did I get robbed? No. Was I uncomfortable? You bet! Yet it now seems like such a small moment in life, in today. I need to pray more and fear less.

The Trooper failed the RTV for the second time which means more time at the mechanics. Our little rental BeGo is becoming quiet the family member and so peppy. It will be missed, but having the Trooper back will mean we passed and are no longer outlaws on the run (although I will miss the spontaneous "lunches" from being "chased").

Outside its dark. Squawks of a strange bird dribble in through the open window as I write. I walked the property earlier as the sun set and was attacked by a vigilant mosquito. He didn't live, but left behind a beautifully red swollen gift of itchiness. I spotted our howler monkey neighbors on my stroll. They were scurrying from branch to branch calling to each other and I paused to listen.

Moving Day

There is excitement in the house now, a six month homestead has been found. Rapid plans have unfolded as talks of moving, settling and air conditioning ensue. Will the Finca become a reality? Has God finally answered our prayers? Will I get a cow named Betsy? These are all questions that hang in the balance on this Monday, our moving day.

With great haste we repack our eight suitcases, our whole lives fit into those bags now, and load up two cars (ones a rental). With fond good-byes to the care takers and the dishwasher, we drive our belongings forty-five minutes away to Finca Avellanas. Our new home for half a year is now a two story blue house with three bedrooms in the middle of eleven acres and silence.

We all sigh with relief as we crash onto the couch towards the end of the day. With understood exhaustion we all know we are glad to be here, glad to be settling in, and glad to be starting "Farming For God." I can't wait till I wake to the mooing of cows and the cluck of chickens. Although the morning hours may take some getting used too, I'm sure the benefits will far out weigh the sleep deprivation.

The silence here is amazing, like being in the jungle, with buzzing insects that hum through the night. Howler monkeys carol towards the evening as bright stars become spectators of the night. There is a third floor to the farm, a star deck as they call it. Out doors and up a flight a stairs is a small square deck walled in with a great view of the vast land and the stars at night. We can't wait till the moon goes away so we can really see the show. This place holds many new wondrous things and I can only begin to guess what new adventures lay our way.

Keep us in your prayers as we move from one compound to our little casa on a hill, and if you're ever in the neighborhood look us up; you're probably lost and way off the beaten path!

Saving Toliet

There is this amazing restaurant on the beach in Avellanas called Lola's. When you go there you are eating right on the beach in these amazingly simple yet gorgeous chairs and tables cut out of teak with the ocean as your window. Outside under palm trees, umbrellas and shade you dine on delicious food and occasionally are visited by the restaurant mascot, a small piglet named Lolita. (Lola died and so Lolita is carrying on the name).

We frequent this place often with visiting family and friends and they have something I just have to note. Their toilets have a dual flush button. One is for little water and the other for a lot of water. What a great idea! You know what I mean. Sometimes you don't need all that water used, and other times . . . . well fiber does create great movements. I just wanted to mention it and take a picture. Our guests that were visiting through Wednesday said they have the same toilets in China. We are so far behind in the states. Come on, we have commodes that automatically flush, re-apply seat covers, even warm for you, but saving water? I think this is the most important and automated devices can't determine that yet. Let me flush my own waste and I'll make an Eco-friendly judgement. What about you?

Running from the law

Sundays are a time of reflection, calm and peace. So when I suddenly lurch to the side as the Trooper whips a sharp U-turn in the road, shortly after we leave church, I'm shaken from my light thoughts. Glancing out the back window I notice a police check point, flagging down passing cars, checking passports and possibly Revision Technica de Vehiculos. RTV, as its shortly called, is a car's insurance that must be renewed each year. Our's has lapsed but we do have an appointment next week to get it in to be checked. Until that happens, should you get pulled over the fine can be as steep as $250.

"Let's do lunch," someone suggests as we find ourselves quickly slinking away from the law, heading toward Brasilito. One to never turn down food, my momentary anxiety melts away to grumblings of the stomach as we discuss what our choices are. I've seen signs everywhere for a place called Outback Jack's, an Australian Bar and Restaurant. Rumors have spread that it can be quiet expensive so we stop to take a look. Discovery - Lunch is affordable, dinner is expensive. The location of the place is at the end of a dirt road right as it starts to curve and the ocean parades on the other side. Seating outside is vacant, arriving before most lunch eaters, we are given hand decorated menus that just have to be photographed.

As conversation piddles along, our wonderful lunch guest who's joined us on the run (she chose today to carpool with us) enlightens me to a question I've been wondering. Witch's Rock, the large stone mass with great surfing actually has a story behind it's name. To my great pleasure she shares the tale of how when the winds are really strong, the rock howls and the locals thought it was haunted by a witch. I'm noticing a growing trend of unhappy women in Costa Rica lore. What about the men? Were they the ones that created the stories or just not intimidating enough to keep unwanted visitors away?

Eating with the warm breeze delivering hints of delicious smells, music from a three man mariachi band overpowers the rush of the ocean. Their serenades are merry and its the first time I've heard the legendary minstrels. With warmed body and tummies we drift back to the Trooper to make our way home. Will the check point still be there? Assurances are made that they don't stay long, but I secretly hope they will be so we can turn around and get dessert. With healthy disappointment the roads are free of enforcement and we find our way to our modern abode happy, filled and without further excitement. Ah how I love Sundays.

In closing I must mention that our postcard to the outside world did reach it's intended recipient. Total time was 15 days and all bets were lost. So we'll have to be sure to send things half a month before to ensure they arrive on time. Who's birthday is next month, we'll have to send your card now. This does not mean, however, that items can be sent to us. It is simply a one sided delivery system. Sorry to all those who wished to shower us with gifts of deodorant, books and sunbutter. Those things will have to wait to be delivered in person when you come to visit. Can't wait to see you!

Nine Sand Dollars

Today was Organic Market day and it was slow. Very few people came in and towards the end most of the produce remained homeless. Holly says most people have left for the rainy season. I find that strange because it is not supposed to be the rainy season till the end of this month, beginning of May. She added that they also leave before Semana Santa. I’ve never lived in such a place where people live part of the year and then fly off somewhere else for the rest of the year. Does that make me a local because I stay or am I really in for something with all this talk of “rain?” I guess I’ll find out come May.

It did sneeze today with just a sheet of mist, enough to darken the asphalt but nothing more. These “test runs” are fun and I’ll have to remember how I enjoyed them when it starts raining every day. I can’t even imagine what that will be like having done so much during this “dry” season. It will be like living in two different places.

I took another water taxi home, this time I rode with “Bictor” and his son. I simply walked up to him standing on the shore and said “Nessicito bote por otra lado.” He replied “Mucho gusto” and we headed off to the only remaining boat. He told me it’s name and remarked “Isn’t it beautiful?” I told him it was. There were benches in this boat, no chairs and the ride over was mostly in silence.

Along the 2.5 mile walk back I found one sand dollar, perfectly intact, and then another. On a good day I can only find one, and even then it is normally half cracked or crumbles in my hand. I told myself if I found a third I’d take it home with me thinking surly I would not be so blessed for that to happen. Soon after I found a third and laughed. God was playing with me and I was enjoying the game. Scooping it up I held it in my hand and studied it, wondering what I would do with it. Somehow I feel that if I take anything from the beach it should be for a useful purpose. So I placed the sand dollar back and walked on. I could just imagine another tourist finding it, the smile on their face as they held it up and calling to their family, they would proudly show off their discovery. Pocketing it and packing it safely between socks and underwear for the flight home, they would place it in a small treasure box and years later pull it out. The simple token from their time in Costa Rica would bring back wonderful memories as they held it and they would smile once again. Can I deny someone that joy just because I want it?

As I continued to walk, lost in thought I spotted another and another, till I had counted nine total. I was rich. I’d never seen so many and all in one short walk home. Each sand dollar was perfect except for the last which was double the size of any of the rest and had a small chip on the side. Still it weighed heavy in my hand and I snapped a picture of it. I had told myself I had wanted to find a sand dollar one day, but I never imagined finding nine. What a wonderful experience.

There are sea snails here that push along the sand burrowing in deeply as they go. I’ve watched them go and done my best to avoid stepping on them as I walk. They are everywhere, moving slowly along the edges of the waves. How does one beach have so much life, and yet others are dead? You’d never see sea turtles, snails, crabs, or hermit crabs at the beaches back home. Have we scared away all the wildlife or destroyed it? Have the high rises and restaurants replaced the sand crawlers and pelicans? And the seagulls, they don’t live here. Now that I think of it I have not seen any seagulls at all. I think I would gladly trade the seagull infested, bone bleached shores of California for these beaches. Such life overshadows the needs for shopping, parking and snack bars.

Road clean up

(warning: this is a little graphic so make sure you've put away your lunch and it's had time to settle)

As we were driving today, we had to avoid several dead animals on the road and Natalie asked “Who removes those, do you think?” I had no idea. The same people who also take away the dead iguanas, birds, cats, and dogs I figured. I’m not even sure who removes the road kill back in the states. I thought nothing more on the topic till driving back home I saw a swarm of black on the side of the road. Rapidly approaching I realized it was a committee of vultures picking at a road kill we had passed earlier. Question answered.

A Day of Firsts

"Adventure is not outside man; it is within" - George Eliot

"A day of firsts" started out with blurry eyed enthusiasm as we rushed from the house yawning, clock laughing 6am and were nearly on time making it our first. We were all anxious for Finca day, having been invited by a local farmer from church to view his three farms. Ones to always embrace a chance to view the inside plow, we lunged at invitation and were on the road heading north when traffic struck. A herd of cattle were crossing in desire of greener pastures and we slowed to allow them to pass. Little did I know how many cattle I would see that day, or how often I'd photograph them.

Pulling off the main roads well outside the city of Liberia we began the hard climb upward on rocky dirt roads admiring the deepening vegetation that had suddenly taken on a miraculous green. No longer was the dry season evident, replaced by steep volcanoes wrapped in green, mountains draped in moss colored grasses. Burrowing deeper into the mountains we continued to climb hills and drift across bridges (six total) leaving behind modern Costa Rica, replaced with the more rural homes and sights. Children riding bareback on horses waving as we pass, a lone rider tying up this mount outside the small market smiles as we go by. This is the Costa Rica I imagined and it has been here all along, tucked far away from highways and asphalt.

Our first stop is the farthest farm, a hidden gem of natural hot springs luring us off the dirt road onto a path that looked like an animal trail. Slowly creeping our way along the fields, cows stop chewing and watch us come, their big ears taking note of our approach. As we pass they fall in behind us, our pace slower then their lumbering. We've suddenly taken on the role of leader and they seemed surprised when we stop and pour out from inside. In their curiosity they sniff our cars, murmuring amongst themselves at the new cows shiny coat and strange horns. How does it travel with such round legs and where is it's tail? Only when our guide, the farmer waves them off, do they panic and scatter still watching us from a distance, unsure but unwilling to leave.

For a second time in my life I pee in the bush only this time there is an audience. Curious cows peek over bushes still wondering what we are and why one of them squatting on the ground. I have to laugh, not the least embarrassed, praying that the least of my worries is curious herbivores. Visions of the 17 different types of Costa Rican poisonous snakes does slither through my mind, but I cut that thought off quick and jog to catch up with the rest of the group.

Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Ox, we follow a green stumped path through vegetation so dense the hour seems later then it is when we enter. Across a stream the path leads us till we round the bend and find ourselves in the open space of the hot springs. We've found Oz and now it is time to seek the wisdom of nature. Have you ever steeped into a forest stream and felt warm water? Everything your mind has every known is ready for the coldness and when warmth encircles your toes you quickly withdraw them. Could it be? Was it so? Curious and unbelieving you sample the water again and grin. Yes, the river water is warm. Not sun heated warm summer day, but perfect bath water warm. Oz has become the magical place of naturally warmed water, so warm in fact that the hot springs, when the water comes bubbling to the surface can be as hot as 140 degrees. By mixing the boiling water with the cooler water of the stream does it drop down to 106 degrees or so.

Lowering my body into one such pool I can feel my skin cooking, the heat opening all my pores, my mind screaming. Pushing past the intense heat I settle in and close my eyes. My first real soak in a natural hot spring. Who knew the water could be so hot? There are no tourist here. No one else but us in the jungle, soaking away the days travel bumps and jerks. When the heat has thoroughly softened my insides I climb out, skin red and climb my way over rocks to a cooler pool to drop my body temp. In nature's bath we laze away the hour and enjoy the wild beauty around us. There is so much life in the jungle. Sounds are everywhere, constant but comforting. We are not alone, life surrounds us, and I think how in Genesis it says that "God saw that it was good." All that he made met with his approval and it truly is marvelous.

To quickly we are ushered out, there is still more to see and do. Leaving Oz we journey back to our cars and find our way over to our guides house, a working finca. Having heard of his skill for cheese making, Titus is anxious to see how it is done, so we are invited onto his land, and into his workshop. Like stepping back into time he shows us how he separates the curds from the milk, the press he uses to compress the moisture out. I listen and photograph but my attention lingers to the cow behind the fence, to the clucking chickens that scratch and flutter. A farm, teeming with life, activity. The farmer's wife joins us, curious to see what we are so interested in and I ask her the name for pig in Spanish. She tells me, and then noting my fascination with the animal, leads me to a cement pen. Gesturing with her hand to look, I peek over and I see small pink faces peering up at me. Piglets in a bowl stare up with curiosity and grunt a hello. Delighted I snap away and notice that she is smiling at my silliness. Really, photographing piglets, what do these tourists do, I'm sure she thinks? Now wanting to show me more, I'm led to another pen where two large pigs napping, one pink, the other black. A black pig, I had never seen one up close and there he stood, eying me. Even though he was six months old I knew he could knock me down at full charge so I respectfully kept my distance.

Now entranced with the farming life, I'm lead around to see other animals and the greatest joy is finding four puppies, only one month old, lying with their mother near a shed. Gently petting their soft fur I whisper to them and stroke the coat of their mother who proudly hovers near. Puppies, piglets, calves and colts, there are so many babies here on the farm. Too soon we are herded away, but not without finding a mythical animal I have yet to learn it's name. Like something out of Princess Bride, there in the corner of the kitchen, beneath the wooden table lies a "rodent of Unusual Size." With spotted fur like a fawn, claws like a possum and a face like a rat, it's large black eyes stare back as it growls and tries to scurry away. Can this be real? Is this beast not something only found in fairy tales? This is the first time we've ever seen such a thing and we all marvel at it's strangeness. Soon we bid our guests good bye, and pile back into the cars, there are still more farms to see, more firsts to try.

On to the waterfall farm, or so it is called. Told of it's majestic beauty, our cars rock climb for a good while, second gear never being touched we progress so slow. Pulling off to the side of a dirt road we are told we have arrived. The land is sparse, no building in sight, a few random cows moo and then move on. Where is the waterfall? Where is the green? We have dropped lower then the mountains and closer to the dryness of the coast. Slipping through barb wire we cross a barren cow pasture and see the green tree line of water. Soon we hear the rushing of water, but still no waterfall insight. Suddenly we crest the edge of our rock platform and stare down into a large cavernous pool with rushing waters from the falls pouring into it. We really are here.

Climbing down stairs constructed for access ease we make our way out onto the rounded rocks and take a swim in the pool beneath the falls. The water, crisper then the hot springs, is refreshing after a long drive and as we swim our voices and laughter echo off the stones walls that surround us. Our farmer friend mentions that others have jumped from the cliffs of the waterfall into the pool below and tempts us with raised eyebrows? Do we dare? Natalie accepts the challenge and goes first. Like a fearless warrior she stands at the edge of the 35 foot drop and at the count of three throws herself from the safety of the ledge. With a splash she disappears beneath the water, and then surfaces moments later with a grin wider then a slice of heaven. She's done it. The challenge is on and I'm next.

I've never cliff dove before, never really had the chance too. All the falls I've been to have been too dangerous to do so. Now's my chance. Barefoot I retrace the steps we took until I find myself upon the same ledge peering down at the dark swirling waters below. Squashing all thought, knowing reason will chicken me out, I hear "Three" and jump. There is no up when you jump from a cliff, only down and suddenly I'm sucked by gravity. My stomach claws for my throat and a millions thoughts of survival have no time to form as I crash beneath the cold waters and touch the mossy rocks below. For a moment I float beneath the surface, stunned, alive, breath held. I've done it! I've made it, I think as I kick my way to the surface.

We linger a little longer beneath the crystal falls and then push on to the last farm of the day. With a name that translates "farm of the dead baby chicken" there is much promise. We settle upon the porch beside a rushing river and feast upon a delicious lunch that pleases the stomach and tongue. Too soon we are heading home, bodies weary but minds alive. As we near the outskirts of town, a spattering of rain appears on the windshield. Our first rain. With the smell of earth and freshness pushing through the open windows we smile and sigh. Our first taste of the rainy season, a completion to our day and a reminder of what is to come. Thank you God for those blessings you give us, and for days like these.

Now that you've read all about this day check out the pictures (you deserve it)

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=1172562&id=1325214931

A Special Thanks to Don for such an amazing day and to Natalie for the perfect blog title.

Guts and Sticks

Experimental fruiting number two took place as we cut open “maracuya” or what looked like green wrinkled alien brains. Seedy sacks with dark centers oozed forward and for a moment we all eyed it with hesitation. “Guts anyone?” I heard the thought in my head by did not want to influence the smaller eaters with visuals. Natalie took the first bite, brave girl, and we all waited watching the reactions on her face. “Hmm, not bad” she commented still chewing. “A little sour.”

That’s it? That’s all? You bite into alien brains and they’re a little sour? I had to see for myself so I scooped a little of the slimy yellow matter with dark seeds and chewed quickly, somehow afraid it would come alive in my mouth. A tart, tangy taste flooded my taste buds and I couldn’t tell if I liked it, or wanted to spit it out. I took another spoonful and then a third. Figuring I’d given it enough time to make an impression, I ruled it was too sour for continual consumption and laid my spoon aside. Experiment complete. Conclusion: “maracuya” also known as “passion fruit”, although mixing will with other fruits, is not of most people’s liking by its self. Future uses for it in this household? Juicing, that’s it.

I’ve seen two walking sticks since we’ve moved here. I can't recall seeing one after we moved from the mountains to the city. That was years ago and now I'm awash with childish glee and awe at the sight of them. One was clinging to the stroller simply enjoying the view when it was nearly turned into a hand wielding weapon of imagination by little man who loves sticks more then toy cars. Only this one was alive and twitched before he could reach it, causing a squeal and a quick withdrawal of hands. The second was at Buena Vista Lodge and was lurching its way across the path. An insect that looks like a stick? Designed in perfect replication of the arbor branches we see on the side of the road. I can’t help but marvel at the perfection and interest in God’s creation.