Feeling A-salted

Our house is clean as a brass button, but the food in our casa is like eating off the sea floor.  Every meat is cooked until it resembles jerky... but at least I don't have to cook it!  Steve commented that we could take the meat, and walk around in the wilds for days without worrying about it going bad. 

Tonight, we had salted sausage.  Isn't sausage already salty enough?  Apparently not.  Vir called me as she made our dinner and said, "You're out of salt."   I bought a one pound bag two weeks ago! 

I set out peanut butter and jelly; and bologna with cheese for sandwiches, and asked Vir if she could put them together.  In the freezer later, I found a week's worth:  twenty American cheese and jelly sandwiches!

A Birthday Text from Claro

Steve has a secret girlfriend who texts him all the time.  Her name is Claro, and she is relentless, offering him to double his minutes, win a trip to Miami or free tickets to see One Direction.  Of course the texts are all in Spanish, so it takes us a while to figure out it's just the phone company for the 8th time each day.

So I was surprised to receive a text from Claro which read "Happy birthday Ilana.  Claro would like to offer you a free massage, one dinner on us, and some help cleaning the house.  It's your lucky day!  Claro que si!"

I was amazed that Claro knew my name, my birthday, and that the text was in perfect English.  I mulled over the text, frustrated by the fact that I just didn't understand the system enough to collect on my free stuff.   I was so excited about it, I told the kids what I got, and Marina began to giggle.  Turns out, I should have read the number on the text.  My daughter is a sneaky one!

Peering into the bowels of Irazu Volcano

Last weekend, we attempted to continue our adventurous streak by doing a day trip to an active volcano located just north of Cartago, the old capitol of Costa Rica.  The drive was gorgeous. We snaked our way from the valley that is San Jose up into the foothills.  Then, with Ethan (our car) shifted into 2nd gear, we pushed our way up the volcano.  The rarified air was cool and the terrain looked suddenly like the Swiss alps.  Cows stared at us wondering why we'd drive up a volcano in the rain season.

When we got to the national park, they accepted our protestation that we were not tourists, but actually nationals and we we got a seriously discounted admission.

Once at the top, we saw a sign for the highest point of the volcano.  We parked and decided to hoof it.  At 10,000 feet, we certainly felt the effects of the altitude.  When we reached the peak of the peak, we gazed out over the vast main crater and saw . . . clouds.  So, we desperately snapped photos of a sign saying we'd reached the highest point.

We lunched back at a picnic table near our car and were visited by some furry masked creatures which were hounded by the 11 year old paparazzi.  Then, we got a nice sprinkling of rain.  But we were not to be deterred.

We drove down to the main parking area and venture out on the boardwalks that lead you right to the edge of the main crater. With the rumble of the neighboring volcano, Turrialba, in our ears, we leaned out over the fence and peered down into the bowels of the . . . more clouds.


On the way home, we did see some coati and a really cool weasel crossed in front of our car.  The moral of the story is, during the rain season, it's hit or miss as to whether you'll be able to see the volcano from the top of the volcano.  Better to wait until the dry season.

Drinkable Yogurt and One Gigantic Spider in the Sink

This is the palm-sized spider Steve found in the sink the other morning.  He woke me at 6 am, proclaiming.  "Holy cow!  You gotta see this thing!"  Really?!   I do not get up for spiders.   Steve flicked it into a pot with a spatula, ran outside and proclaimed himself a hero of epic proportions.  Hooray for Steve!

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Most products here are more expensive here than we imagined they would be.  Our grocery bill this week was $160, where in the States, it was usually about 80 bucks.  Housing is about the same here in Escazu as in Seattle, with a modest 2+ bedroom  apartment renting for more than $1100.

But labor is inexpensive, so much so that we are relishing the opportunity to be pampered by having a part-time maid/cook.

Also cheap:  Anything that comes in a jug or a squeeze packet.   Our particular favorite is the Ducal "Squeezie Beans"  (according to me), which are convenient and delicious, although I think they look a bit like brown toothpaste, and Benji has compared the squeezie beans  to a bodily function that only and 11 year old would think of (okay, and maybe his dad, too).

 Steve, Benji and I played a bit of Texas Hold-Em the other evening, and in lieu of beer, we chugged out of an enormous jug of liquid yogurt.  Yum!   When I won a hand, I gloated, and Steve commented, "So what.  You can beat an 11 year old and a known loser!"   In the end, Benji took his parents for everything they had.
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Eggplants a la Pura Vida and the First Day of School

 "Pura Vida!"  We hear that often...It translates directly to "Pure life," but the heart of the expression is akin to the work Shalom in the Hebrew language - all encompassing goodwill; hello, goodbye, peace be with you, don't worry, be happy.   Certainly the eggplant dish that Vir, our sweet housekeeper, made tonight was pura vida.  Smothered in butter and fried to perfection.


Today was our children's first day as middle schoolers!   Their excitement mounted as we drove our honking big SUV- which we nicknamed "Ethan" for the lost renter whose deposit made it all possible - to school.  Yes, it's a whopping three blocks, but each of us was porting a laptop and enough school supplies to start our own small university.

Steve and I taught our first Costa Rican classes one after the other, and by the end of the day, we were both a little hoarse (neigh).   I think it will get easier as we get to teaching, rather than explaining our expectations ad nauseum.
The kids seemed to have a happy day.  Both enjoyed their classes and teachers at Country Day School, and Benji played soccer during the break, while Marina made three new friends and played jump rope with agility and grace.  I only spied on them a little.



In the evening, we went to Congregacion B'nei Israel, one of Escazu/San Jose's three synagogues.  There, the kids registered for Hebrew school, which they begin tomorrow!   The Argentinian rabbi there was so welcoming, as so many people here have been.   It really is Pura Vida here.

Swarming Crocodiles on Mother's Day

This morning at 6 a.m. I woke with a start to explosions down the street.  Turns out it was the church setting off firecrackers to celebrate Costa Rican Mother's Day!

Click on the photo to see the crocodile video!

We set off to the beach at Jaco, which turned out to be a flooded flat of mottled grey sand, attacked by tourists (she said with disdain), and overrun with tchotchkee shops selling hammocks and Pura Vida t-shirts. The lunch spot we picked hocked a single grilled snapper for $20 bucks, which barely filled the void.

Fortunately, the day got exponentially better, quickly.  Our new friend Bill and his wonder-dog, Oliver suggested we join him at a nearby beach, Herradura (Horseshoe Beach), where we frolicked in the playful surf for hours.  The body-surfing was exceptional, the water was warm and inviting, and the sea floor soft and sandy.

Sated and sun-burned, we drove home, but paused at a bridge where we had seen folks collecting on the way in.  "I bet there are crocodiles down there," I suggested.  We parked the car and walked along the bridge and holy hand-grenades, Batman...there was a veritable herd of thrashing, writhing, behemoths. 



The bridge began to fill with locals and tourists.   A tica (Costa Rican woman) told me of a drunk who threw himself over the bridge once, and all that was left was his throat.  Or that they went for his throat.  Fortunately, my Spanish is not that good.

Soon I heard a voice beside me ask in Spanish, "Would you like to buy a chicken?"  I raised my eyebrows in morbid curiosity.  He explained that the chicken was for throwing over the bridge to incite a frenzied croco-riot.  I politely declined, without asking whether the chicken was dead or alive.  Hmmmm.  PETA would have a field day here.

Market flowers

Marina with her market coco

Marina in front of our house.

Market Vendor

We Swore We'd Never Buy an SUV

Never say never.  During a walking tour of downtown San Jose, we noticed a sparkling white Rav4 with the traditional  "Se Vende" sign written on the driver's side window.  Steve knocked on the window, and the driver rolled down the window.  Some subtle negotiating took place right there on the street, and, within minutes, my husband took the driver's business card.

The next day, the owner brought the car to school, where we had a mechanic check it out.  He gave us the thumbs up, The only catch was the funds, which we had to have wired from the States.  Word to the wise:  when you move abroad and are buying a car; bring cash!  We lost quite a bit in the transaction...both on the exchange rate and on the wire fees.  However, there is a lot of freedom in having a car: that's for sure!  And a big car will allow us to travel over some of the rugged, Costa Rican countryside.  

We have a housekeeper!  Yes, one of the luxuries of living in Costa Rica is that school teachers like us can afford household help.  Vir helps out a couple of hours on weekdays, cleaning and preparing a dinner.  I'm embarrassed to say I'm getting used to the convenience and the pampering of the situation.   

Vir called me at school today.  I had left her a note asking her to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for our lunch the next day.  "What else goes on the sandwich?" she asked.  "Peanut butter and jelly," I answered.  "But what kind of meat?  What else goes inside?"  "Nope, that's it..."  I continued explaining the process of spreading peanut butter on one side of a piece of bread and jelly on another piece to our perplexed housekeeper.  Thinking about it now, it does seem kind of weird!

Tonight, we drove our honkin' big car to the director's house for a terrific staff party.  Benji and Marina had a fiesta  playing spoons and dancing to "Thriller" with Mr. Mac's kids.  We grown-ups had a blast, too.  Steve obsessively competed in a "swing the ring onto the hook" game, with no success, but that didn't stop him from trying for at least a couple of solid hours.  Looks like we'll have to outfit the house with the contraption.

As I write this blog at 11 pm, there is a dog outside making a sound like a tragically wounded sea lion.   He will be joined by roosters and motorcycles revving their engines at approximately 4:30 tomorrow morning, when the light starts to creep into our windows.  I better get to sleep.