A Broad In Costa Rica

"Mel Gibson, Please."

I thought of something else I need in 2008. I need to talk to Mel Gibson. If you know him, could you please get me an audience?

Why? Well, he's cute for one thing, although probably too old for me now. OK: DON'T tell him I said that.

Plus, he bought a huge chunk of land in Costa Rica, near Samara where Hal and Mo went for the airshow. Practically the next day, he had an audience with El Presidente during which, I have come to understand, he gave El Presidente money for charity.

Um, Mel, I hate to start off on the wrong foot with you, but, if you are looking to make a difference here, that's not how we do it in Costa Rica. Or anywhere, come to think of it. You just don't give money to a government if you want that money to do some good. You give it to the Actual People who are accomplishing the Actual Good. Who are personally, physically, hands-on doing the good.

I happen to know a few of those people. And they could use that help. Quality, meaningful help over time. The kind of help they won't ever receive from a government who, if it were ever going to help in a meaningful way, would have done so by this time. It has other fish to fry.

So I need to talk to Mel. Talk to him about the people who are making a difference in Costa Rica. I promise not to ask for much. As you know, it doesn't take much to make a difference around here.

So. I'll be checking my inbox. Looking forward to spreading a little prosperity, peace and love around to the people who are so hungry for it in Costa Rica. Thank you. Happy New Year!

Knee-Jerk Reactions

Jacqueline's pistol-whipping break-in, along with everything else I wrote about yesterday, is upsetting our apple cart. Not to mention today's A.M. Costa Rica article about how the I.R.S. is "helping" Costa Rica redefine it's income tax laws. Because, you know, the U.S. is the expert when it comes to owning its citizens. Apparently, Costa Rica sees this as a good thing.

Back in the discussion of the surprise dollar devaluation against the colón, I totally skipped reporting on the inflation rate. El pais [pie-EESE, country] says it's 10%. My pocketbook - and those of other expats - say it's at least 20%. More like 25%. So the $3K/month we live on now will be $3,600 next year. We have yet to find a savings account offering 20%. It's not just me whining. Pensionados living on fixed incomes as well as plenty of other expats are concerned by these facts.

We love Costa Rica, we love our life here, the quality of which is still better than in the U.S. To stay, we'll justify almost anything. Money is not the biggest concern. We have to earn a living. If we can't do it here or an opportunity drives us somewhere else, well, we'll just have to deal with that. But earning a living is like the Cost of Doing Business factor. A fact of life, not an emotional breaking point.

The pistol-whipping break-in of a neighbor and friend is an emotional breaking point. Look at your kids and your old mom and your three goofy dogs and justify that.

I guess my Costa Rica pink cloud phase is over. This particular event has definitely turned our thinking upside-down, if only for the moment. So much so that Hal and I just tippy-toed around The Discussion. You know, the one about moving.

We HATE to see the violence take this turn. If we stay in this house, we need cameras, more plastic roofing material to block anyone seeing into our yard - which has the added benefit of looking Trailer Trashy enough so we don't look really rich, and getting automatic combination locks installed on our doors. We can do all these things and not feel anymore fortress-y than we do now. Our house is VERY secure; J's was not... I could have broken into J's house.

But that's not really the point. We don't mind living in The Fortress. We just don't want to have to defend it...

Our options are to 1) stay here; 2) move out of Escazú to a less-gringo rich area; 3) move to another country; 4) return to the states. Everything has a price. What are we willing to pay - in dollars, sanity, personal safety - in exchange for the best quality of life for our family?

Moving back to the states would make earning a living much easier, just logistics-wise, if nothing else. The U.S. is still familiar territory; until you've experienced culture shock, you won't understand how deeply those ties bind and pull, especially when something scary happens in your foreign home. Still, we are not so naive as to believe if we moved from Costa Rica to Gainesville, we would not seriously doubt our sanity.

A new country is out for now. For starters, starting over would be hell. And expensive. The learning curve is tremendous. Even if English or Spanish were the native tongue, conquering a new land might be fun in a few years, but not yet. Besides: we aren't done here.

Moving out of Escazú is a real possibility. I am definitely going to explore that. As long as my maid will come with me.

And Costa Rica, for all those negatives I mentioned, is still a magically beautiful place peopled by interesting, peaceful... people. I'll bet actual money those robbers were not ticos. If we ran away, we'd be very, very sad.

Honestly, most of my disappointments are brought on by my First World expectations. There are still no mass shootings in malls, schools and churches here. Because SSRIs are not prescribed like candy. It's a fact that the world is more dangerous everywhere. No IRS here. Yet. We don't own property so tax hikes don't affect us.

So... still here. Today. Not taking this lightly at all. Just working to avoid knee jerk reactions while evaluating options and the paying of prices. In the meantime, I'm installing cameras, changing locks. And expanding the Trailer Trash look into the back yard. I am from KY after all. This will make me feel right at home.

The Baby Back Door

Last week, my friend Isabela (her real name) called me and asked if my new maid, Ginger (not her real name), could leave my house to go babysit for guests in one of Isabela's rental condos. Seems the wife was giving birth RIGHT NOW and someone needed to go watch the two year old.

Sure, no problemo! A taxi comes, takes Ginger. I end up doing my own laundry. As horrible as that is, I figure things could be worse.

Later, Isabela and I are chatting. I'm wondering, didn't this woman know she was having a baby, like asap? Wouldn't this be an odd time to take a vacation? Having never given birth, I'm not exactly sure how anxious or not I'd be, but it seems like giving birth on vacation in a foreign land would be a tad nerve-wracking.

Isabela listens and chuckles. She tells me this particular condo is nicknamed The Maternity Ward. That there have been 15 babies born there in the last 18 months! I'm stunned.

This, she explains, is the Baby Back Door: when a baby is born in Costa Rica, that baby is a citizen. Which makes the parents and the rest of the family citizens. Not just residents, like us, but actual citizens. With all the rights of citizenship: you can work, you can vote, you get a Costa Rican passport, you have dual citizenship with your country of origin.

And you get all these rights immediately. For a young couple moving to Costa Rica, with no pension, no nest egg, no Google stock bought at $85 and sold last Thursday... for a young couple needing an income, this is the most sensible way to go about it. Move here, give birth, gain citizenship, earn a living. Simple.

I guess this is how people have been doing it all over the world, including in the U.S., for years. Duh.

We get our cedulas [SAY-doo-lahce, I.D.s] next month. We are officially rentistas [wren-TEE-stahce, basically we are renting residency]. This is a temporary residency, like pensionado [pen-see-oh-NAH-do, someone with a pension] or one of the investor residency visas. Not as temporary as the "perpetual tourist" who has to leave every 90 days for 3 days - what a pain that is. But temporary nonetheless. We can't work or vote, but can otherwise enjoy our lives here. Still U.S. residents with all those obligations (read IRS and draft). You can divorce your country of origin, but only after you are a citizen of your adopted country.

Here's the main problem for young people without deep pockets: to qualify for rentista, you have to have money in a bank (in your home country, like ours, or in a Costa Rican bank, just has to be approved by migración) to prove solvency. For us, it was $60,000 which equals $1,000 a month for 5 years. As of 12 August 2006 (days after we applied for residency), the law changed and that amount is now quite a bit higher. Today, a family of four has to deposit $180,000: $60K for each adult and $30K for each minor child. What young family has $180K to let sit in the bank? Our old family couldn't have done that! Too bad I don't have a uterus. No, wait, that's a good thing.

In three years, we can switch to permanent residency which will allow us to work and take our required monetary deposit out of the bank. Still, we won't be citizens. Since we aren't birthing any babies here and Hal won't let me marry anyone else, gaining citizenship will require passing a test, in Spanish, on Costa Rica's history, government, geography, the whole nine yards. Not sure I could ever pass that test.

Costa Rica's newest citizens have been planning this vacation for over a year now. They knew they wanted out of the U.S., knew they wanted Costa Rica, knew they wanted at least one more child. They researched their options, stumbled onto the Baby Back Door idea, got pregnant, rented the condo to arrive 8.5 months into the pregnancy, got here and boom: baby and citizenship in one swell foop. What can you say, but mazel tov!

"Are You For Real?"

My presentation went very well at the International Living Conference in Jacó, er Herradura. Los Suenos lives up to its name... oh my, it is severely swanky! Except the coffee served in the conference was pathetic, which is a disgrace in Costa Rica. The "snacks" were equally pathetic. But if looks are everything, this place is the top.

The conference was designed for expat wannabes: people looking to retire outside their country of origin - mostly the U.S. - so real estate developers were well-represented. I must say, some of the developments were breathtaking. Prices were from $129K for a house on a spit of land near the ocean... on UP, shall we say.

Oddly, the central valley where I live was not at all represented... Only beach property. Who wants to live in that heat? Besides tica teri? And, ok, everyone else in the world?

Speaking of which, I'd like to be back at the beach at this moment. It is damn cold where I am, like in the 60's. Two days ago, I was walking on the beach sweating my butt off (I wish). Today I have on a heavy wool sweater, long pants and thick socks. And my feet are still cold. Next year, we are having a fireplace!

Here's my Power Point presentation, mostly pictures while I talked pretty much non-stop in the background. Which is why, afterwards, one of the attendees took hold of my arms and asked, "Are you for real?" He was laughing, so I guess that was sort of a compliment...

OK. This Is Slightly Worse.

When I printed the Tico Times story on the theft in Jacó, I had not read the A.M. Costa Rica report (scroll down to the second page) which gives more detail. The ENTIRE story, if you will.

So the thieves got to make death threats to the couple, no money was returned, a few items reportedly recovered were actually not recovered... it sounds like the whole recovery process was a joke. Couple made to wait around several hours while nothing was accomplished. Add in a little sexual harassment to complete the package... And to top it all off,  the thieves were released... WTF?

Madness to have your stuff in your car at the beach in Jacó while you get in the ocean. I wouldn't do that in 'Lauderdale. But, like wearing tight clothes doesn't mean you invite rape, being foolish with your belongings doesn't excuse theft.

Nice going, Costa Rica. Kill my book sales and the darn thing isn't even out. I am NOT happy with you. This whole "death threat" thing has got to stop. Or else.

The Worst Thing About Costa Rica:

This Tico Times story illustrates the only reason I would leave Costa Rica. Petty theft is rampant here and there is no consequence. None. As in zero. Unless spending one night in the slammer is considered a consequence. It's clearly not a deterrent.

I'm not afraid of petty theft - we had plenty of that in Key West. Plenty of that everywhere. But if it got violent, if armed robbery escalated here - there is some but even then it's rarely violent - but if it escalated and there were still no consequence, I couldn't live with that. All emphasis mine.

Robbery Victims Frustrated by Police's Actions

By Blake Schmidt, Tico Times Staff

An English teacher and a yoga instructor from the United States yesterday said they are frustrated with the way Costa Rican authorities handled the robbery of their car Saturday while they were headed for an afternoon dip in the ocean at Playa Hermosa [where I am right now], on the central Pacific coast.

Though the two reclaimed only some of their belongings and ended up missing about $400 cash, the Public Security Ministry reported Sunday that Tourism Police recovered $10,300 belonging to Grace. [Not true. Why would the Tourism Police report they'd recovered $10,300 when that is not true? To make themselves look more effective?]

U.S. citizen Phil Hemion -- a teacher and resident of Heredia, north of San José -- said he and his friend Melissa Grace, a resident of the central Pacific beach town of Jacó and yoga instructor, looked on helplessly from the beach Saturday while three suspects in a Geo Tracker broke into their car with a screwdriver and took Grace's bag full of cash, jewelry and other valuable items, as well as some clothing.

Hemion and Grace called the police, who said they had already stopped the car in Jacó because of previous reports that it had been used in suspicious activity.

“There are a number of organized gangs operating throughout the country, and we had identified this as a car previously involved in illicit activity,” said Tourism Police Director Katia Chavarría.

Police searched the car and allowed Hemion and Grace to look through it until they found all the stolen items with the exception of a ring, a cell phone chip and about $400 cash, Grace said, adding that police did not handcuff the suspects and allowed them to rummage around the car while they were searching.

“Police would not search the car again to find the remaining items,” Hemion said. The three suspects – two of them Colombians with refugee status identified by the last names Cortés, 67, and Castaño, 30, and the third a Costa Rican, identified as Cordero, 21 – were detained overnight and released the next day.

Chavarría said she didn't know who filed the report saying police found $10,300 belonging to Grace, but that it was false.

Chavarría said the case is now in the hands of the Garabito prosecutor's office.

"Released the next day." That's like a bad joke.

Or Maybe...

I just need more to do, idle hands and all that. Maybe if I were busier, I wouldn't have time to sit around examining my navel. I wouldn't hear the what because maybe there is no what. Maybe I'm just making it all up for Something Important to do.

Speaking of which, there are two more to dos on the list I neglected to mention:

1) Tamara, Margaret, two women I met through Helping Hands Costa Rica (HHCR), and I worked with Gail Nystrom, truly an angel to the poor here in Costa Rica, to help the women of La Promesa [la pro-MAY-sah] sell their crafts at The Newcomer's Club bazaar last Saturday and at the Women's Club fair coming up on the 10th of November.

La Promesa is a very poor neighborhood created by the Costa Rican government for (mostly) women escaping abusive relationships. In her efforts to help them be self-sufficient, Gail arranged for these women to learn crafts - beading with seeds, wood, plastics - and they churn them out. They are simple and beautiful - I'll post photos from the Women's Club.

The women also put together an educational/entertainment day at La Promesa. For $10, you go for a tour, a short talk, a native dance by the children in costumes made by the women, lunch, then shopping for crafts. Mom went last time and loved it. (Have I mentioned she loves everything?)

Unfortunately, the Newcomer's bazaar was very poorly attended. I don't think anyone sold anything - and there are some beautiful artisans here, local and expat - to anyone who wasn't also a presenter! Hopefully the Women's Club will be better attended.

2) Evangeline and I are speaking at the International Living conference next week being held at the oh-so-fabulous-and-swanky Los Sueños Resort in Jacó. That will be VERY fun. An audience and applause. What's not to like?

Evangeline, as founder and head of HHCR, is speaking about volunteer opportunities. I am speaking about life as an expat, what it's like, what happened, culture shock - the whole nine yards. Basically the blog on stage. The only topic I'll skip is real estate. As might be expected, they have TONS of real estate people talking there. It is, after all, geared toward people moving to Costa Rica!

And I will, of course, be pushing my book*... I swear, it's coming. Turns out writing the damn thing is the easy part!!!

E & I are putting together Power Point Presentations for both talks. Really exciting. After it's over, E will have a presentation ready-to-go for talking about Helping Hands locally, like at the Women's and Newcomer's Club, the Rotary Club - all those clubs.

And I'll have a presentation all ready for when I'm on Oprah. You know, on the book tour. No time for examining my navel today. Back to the book!

*Advice From A Broad: The First 100 Things You Need To Know About Coming To Costa Rica. Catchy title, eh?

The New Me

The Old Me is going to be inhabiting my body for a few more weeks because, sadly, My New Spiritual Training Ground had to cancel its weekend seminar for lack of interest. Too bad, because I'm anxious to dive in. Are there really so few seekers in Costa Rica? Here's what I seek and what they offer:

"The ancient science of Sat Yoga comprises a form of Self-inquiry, of meditation, and the practice of inner deconstruction of the many layers of the false self in order to achieve Liberation in life. As part of this work, we encourage the sustenance of a healthy lifestyle in accord with strict ethical parameters, in order to strengthen and protect our practice. And we teach a variety of different preliminary techniques in order to prepare the body and mind to be able to receive and contain the higher energies that we learn to attune to in our meditative practice. These techniques have been part of the Yogic path for many centuries and are of proven value.

The ultimate aim of Sat Yoga practice is the falling away of the ego and the complete realization of the One Self. This attainment is actually the beginning of the spiritual life, not its end point. Since we are already That, no techniques are necessary for this achievement. It is simply matter of removing the blinders, the veils of ignorance that occlude the pristine sublime nature of our timeless reality. By learning to silence the chattering mind, to be fully present with an open heart, willing to accept the Great Mystery that is our Being, to live in boundless openness and playfulness, the grace of the Supreme Loving Presence comes to permeate our field of energy and consciousness. We become the natural embodiments of the supernatural Essence that all along we had been seeking. We are That. Live the highest truth now, surrender the ego to the Presence that encompasses you, unite with the infinite loving power, and all blessings shall be delivered unto you. This is the true practice of Sat Yoga."

Who wouldn't want to achieve Liberation in life? To remove the blinders that occlude the pristine sublime nature of our timeless reality? To live in boundless openness and playfulness? OK, in some ways, I'm already living some of the boundless playful thing. But I suspect, nay KNOW, there are deeper levels to go. Definitely ready for all blessings to be delivered unto me. Like an income. And weight-loss.

Just kidding. I know those are shallow blessings. I mean, I'll take them. But suddenly I'm wanting more. Remember when I said, "You know that feeling there is something else going on, but you don't know what it is?"*, that feeling is back lately and pretty strong. Maybe because my mom is here. Yeah, I'll blame it on her. Because, you know, that's always worked so well in the past.

Whatever the cause - and I'm really not big on reasons and blame, what a waste of time trying to figure all that out is - there's something going on inside me. I've been feeling this way for the past few months. It's ready to surface big time, like in the first Alien movie. I feel certain I will find out "what" via Sat Yoga. I'm ready to deconstruct the many layers of the false self (unless it hurts) because they're in the way of the "what."

And what does all this have to do with Costa Rica? If I wasn't living here, unfettered by the mind-numbing pressures of work, phones ringing, society and constant shopping, I wouldn't be so aware of the what wanting out.

Yeah, pretty profound, eh? Stick around, there's more where that came from. Somewhere.

*I remembered where I heard that line when it struck me so hard: Diner. Great movie.

Compulletely And Horrifyingly Gross

Nothing makes me sick. Nothing grosses me out. I'm a mother. Not only that, I'm a doctor-wannabe. I watch surgery shows. Watching liposuction gets me a little jumpy, but otherwise I'm immune to gross stuff.

Or so I thought. Don't worry: no photos. If you saw what I saw today, you would close this window and likely never visit again.

Boo had a bump on her neck. For about a week she's had this bump. That kept getting bigger. Like from pimple to 25¢ gumball size. The boys were a little panicked. I wasn't because I thought I knew what it was and I did not want to think about it. If you know anything about Costa Rica and it's intensely disgusting bugs, you know what I'm talkin' about. Finally, today, I took her to see Dr. Gamboa right down the street.

He feels the bump. He grimaces and says, "Oh, yeah. Screw-worm." I want to be anywhere but there because I have seen the videos. I'm not even going to link to any photos because these things are so horrible, and unlike zombies, they actually exist.

Ok, ok: go here: Wikipedia. And here. I'm not sure which it was: bot fly or screw-worm. Dr. G said screw-worm and it sure looked screw-wormy (of course I looked). But bot flies get all the play. At the bottom of the Wiki pages are links to disgusting videos of people and their screw-worm and/or botfly moments. Prepare to be grossed out of your mind.

Anyway. Boo's got this bug and Dr. G is going to get it out. He muzzles Boo who wouldn't hurt a, ahem, fly... who is right up there with Winston as Most Pathetic Guard Dog Ever - they run for cover when new people happen around! Then Dr. G starts to squeeze... He gets out TWO and they are AS BIG AS MY ARM. I mean MY PINKIE. HALF my pinkie. At LEAST.

OK. That's all I'll say. It was horrible to think something was in my yard, close to my house, my babies, ME that could leave such a memento. I thought those bugs lived in the jungle. Or around livestock. I thought we were too high up the mountain, it was too cold here... there is very little livestock here. Just a few horses. Some oxen that wander about feeding... I guess that's enough.

According to Dr. G, here's how you get them: the mommy leaves the eggs on (actually on, not in) another insect, like a mosquito. The mosquito delivers the goods. People can get them, oh yeah. He said how people get them is you leave your clothes out to dry, the delivery insect drops eggs on your clothes... and you get them that way. He evens mimes wiping your neck with your freshly sun-dried towel and BAM. Delivery. I told him I have a dryer. He smiled and said, "Good." I feel safe for the moment.

Boo is good, cleansed. She even got a shot that will kill the f--kers if they land again. Dryer or no, I want one of those shots. I feel itchy.

Truckers

Driving in Costa Rica, you will see the undercarriages of more 18-wheelers than you ever cared to. They turn over all the time. Partly because the roads are so bad, so narrow, the ditches so close and deep. Partly because as soon as you can get a driver's license at 18 (which makes sense), you can have a license to drive anything with zero additional training (which makes no sense at all.) I guess they figure if you can steer a moped, you can drive a 40-ton truck?

HINT: If you are driving on a road and you see a fresh tree branch with leaves on it laying in the middle of the road, SLOW DOWN. This means there is a car or truck stopped in your lane and they don't have those orange triangles (which you are required by law to have in your car). It's usually a truck and it's usually turned over.

This picture is from La Nación, Costa Rica's biggest daily paper (I showed this picture last January so it may look familiar.) The rest of the photos I took and these are just the ones for which I was quick enough with the camera... there are at least twice as many I was not able to photograph. Like the first few times I found myself staring at an 18-wheeler undercarriage, realizing this was going to be a common sight.

The last time Mom and I went to Sarchi about a month ago, we were following this truck (on the right). He must have turned over shortly after we passed him, 'cause here he is about an hour later when we were en route home. Fortunately, no other cars were smushed. I'll bet it was close. Imagine watching the topple start to occur...

I'll bet the guy driving this truck (these photos were taken two weeks ago) is just 18 and this is his first delivery job. Did they pack the truck like this, all out of balance? Is it my imagination or is the weight shifting more and more to the left? And who's the bigger fool: the guy driving the truck or the guy passing on the left where that big metal thing will land when the truck tips over?

Hmmm. Quite possibly, it's the moron driving behind them snapping pictures.

This truck on the left is filled with men: illegals going to work. Every once in a while, the wind blew the tarp up and we saw the guys inside. They looked plenty nervous. Mom took this picture.  I never take pictures while I'm driving and it's raining. Too dangerous.

These trucks, like the one on the right, are my favorite: filled with all kinds of junk going to the junkyard. You see 18-wheelers like this, sides constructed out of scrap metal, fill to overflowing with crap. Er, scrap. NOTE: You'll wanna stay back for when things fall off.

On our van trip to the whitewater rafting jump in spot, the coming and going van drivers found themselves in this predicament. No room to pass, ditches and/or big rocks on both sides. And backing up to a wide spot in the road would have meant backing up for close to 30 minutes either way.

Of course, it took almost an hour to get the two vans dislodged. And all the guys (there were at least four beside me, a couple more still in our van and two guys standing on the other side with the other van driver), standing around scratching their chins, shaking their heads, evaluating the situation, shouting ideas and suggestions and orders in either Spanish or English, shoving, pulling, then re-evaluating, all of us being order to get out, then in, then out. It was quite the project!

Road and auto safety is a big issue here, whether you are driving, riding or walking. Most deaths in Costa Rica are auto-related, pedestrians and bicyclists being the biggest losers. Mostly, I believe, because we are surrounded by first-generation drivers. There is no history to point to, no collective wisdom, no long chain of evidence. No grandpa to teach the young 'uns to drive. We are all learning together.

In the states, I never got the whole seat-belt thing (more proof of my morondom) and resented when drivers told me to buckle up or walk. Here, we can't get buckled up fast enough. Even the boys, and not 'cause I told them. Probably because I'm driving. But after just a day driving here, you will unconsciously reach for your seatbelt if you don't already. Some days, on some roads, you'll even think helmets might not be a bad idea.