A Broad In Costa Rica

Where's My Bailout Money?

Well, he ain't no Eminem, but he sure hit the nail on the head:

Pod People

Update: If you are having trouble getting this to play, please read the notes at the bottom of this post. OK, on to the show:

I forced Hal to podcast and here is the result. WAIT. Before you listen, here's a picture of my voice and his voice:

Even when I'm not shouting, I'm loud and annoying. Nothing like listening to a recording of yourself to make you want to hide from the world.

But do I have the humility to hide? NO. I post it on the www. Keep the volume low and know that I am working on dulcet tones even now.

Hopefully it makes some sense. In fact, you don't have to listen. I just want to get it up here from Skype to Audacity to Levelator to LibSyn via FileZilla to here. Maybe one day I'll have an interesting podcast that I'll actually want you to hear. This one is about Counterfeiting, Gold and Money. Spur of the moment, spontaneous, erratic (no wonder I'm in sales): Click here to listen (10mb, 12 minutes). The high-pitched whine is me (I am not kidding); the low hum is Hal.

Next time, there will be music and wonderful roses....

Trouble playing the podcast? Please let me know in the comments - I have no idea what problems exist unless you tell me - thank you.

The file is 10mb and must be streamed or downloaded to play on your computer. If it's not playing, your internet speed might not be fast enough. Or, as in Hal's case, there is a setting in his browser that will not allow this to play - we're trying to find that now. Not sure what else could be the problem, but I'm working on it.

Here are a couple of options:

1. You can go directly to saratica.libsyn.com  where the file is hosted and see if it will download more easily from there.

2. If you have iTunes, you can download this. Open up iTunes, click Advanced, then Subscribe to Podcast, enter this url in the box: http://saratica.libsyn.com/rss and click OK. Your iTunes will download to your podcast folder. Then you will have it forever - isn't that exciting?

Effect A Spiritual Awareness

During our last trip to Key West, we had dinner with a new couple, George and Izzy. About 15 years longer on this earth than us, they'd been Key Westers longer as well, but we'd never met. That's rare. In a small town like Key West, you've usually met everyone at least once at some gathering or other.

Libertarians, they'd found us through Hal's blog. George had even run for governor of his home state as a Libertarian! That takes some fortitude and strength of character. They are well-traveled, well-read and know a thing or two about living. It was a really fun evening, delicious food and an immediate connection. We wish we'd known them for years; we look forward to more.

We've exchanged a few emails since returning home. In his most recent, George said this:

"My years in politics evolved into frustration and mild anger and even humor. Comedy and tragedy are truly first cousins. ... I am not sure the political situation can be resolved within the political system.  It is a "catch 22" mess.

Education, politics, economics, society ... nothing can truly change until we effect a spiritual (not religion/church) awareness that man cannot continue to feed on man.  A new awareness must come into play for change to occur.  Man can realize that his own enlightened self interest includes the interest of all.

I am building a site now...  It will hold that we are responsible for our own reality and project the magnificence of man.  And proclaim the end of victimhood as a goal in life."

That speaks to me, right to the heart. Gives me hope. If there's a cure for the human condition today, it's got to come from a spiritual shift. Not our physical or intellectual selves. They got us where we are today. If I could just remember I'm a spiritual being having a physical experience, perhaps I could avoid the Sturm und Drang. Stay more in acceptance. I'm pretty good about not being a victim on a conscious (physical and intellectual) level. It's the spiritual depth that eludes me. Criticia gets in the way...

I'm looking forward to his site, to reading more like the above. I'll be sure to pass it on.

Where've I Been?

Just now at Volcán Arenal with Mom and Aunt Gay, mom's baby sister. This was my third time at the volcano, my favorite place in Costa Rica so far. Volcán Arenal is flawless, when you can see it.

Did you know, on a clear day, you can see the top of Arenal from San Ramon, two hours to the south of it? Huge and magnificent, an incredible sight. This picture (right: you click on it to make it bigger, Arenal's peak is smack in the middle) doesn't do it justice. Remember the look on Sam Neill's face when he sees the brontosaurus for the first time in Jurassic Park? That's how I felt seeing the top of Arenal looming in the distance. Amazing.

Saturday night, after a brilliantly clear day, we got a brilliantly clear night. Several thunder rolls from deep in the belly of the beast - at first you think it's thunder or a jet flying overhead. 'Cept no storm clouds and no jets... Arenal, she speaks. Then display after display of fire rocks rolling down the side. We were very lucky to see that because the next two days, until our drive home, she was completely in the clouds. You just see the bottom of a hill, not even a peek of a peak.

Sunday afternoon, we did the hanging bridge tour which was lovely, but I wouldn't do it again. It was just like the La Paz Waterfall walk without the waterfalls. In both, you walk for two-three hours through wet rainforest, mesmerized by the opportunistic life around you. If something dies, something else grows on it, sucking the last bit of life out of it, making the dead thing part of the living thing, thriving. Our guide pointed out that when something falls in the jungle, it's just making room for something else. You get a real sense of that happening here, even as you are walking past. Nothing goes to waste in a rainforest.

This afternoon we drove back a different route, via Ciudad Quesada/San Carlos. Wow. This is one of the most beautiful roads I've been on in Costa Rica. Treacherous and curvy, mountainous, very much like Cerro de la Muerte (hill of the dead), the road to San Isidro de General on the southern Pacific coast near Dominical.

Loaded with 18 wheelers (one of which was turned on its side after touching bumpers with a compadre) taking up more than their share of the road, adding to the thrill. But the views: mountain range after range, so green, providing incredible vistas with Volcán Arenal as the backdrop. Huge wow for me.

Where I've been the past two weeks is at a crossroads. A little panicky. Today, 28 Jan 2008, marks our two year anniversary in Costa Rica. It's been heaven, we have grown to love life here. It really is different. We are different. We never expected it. At least I didn't. Hal's been ready for a change for some time, but neither of us would have prophesied living in Costa Rica for good. If you'd known us then, you wouldn't have either. But here we are.

Spending our children's inheritance, now too pitiful a sum to call "inheritance," but, thankfully, still enough to buy an income. Which we must do NOW or move in with one of you. Any volunteers? There's just the five of us and three big muddy dogs. I'll keep checking my inbox for the invites. In the meantime...

What to do, what to do? We've filled and erased three oversized white-boards with every Option & Idea we can think of, now filling the fourth. The first white-board was the most revealing.

On it, we'd listed pros/cons on going back to the states. Any business we do, especially if there were product involved, would be easier in the states. Like, Hal's been trying to get a test copy of his book in paperback from Lightening Source. They've shipped out three, so far. All three lost, sent to the wrong address even though he's emailed the exact dirección. The last copy went to Mexico due to a typo. Customer service for a product would be a nightmare from here. So, product from here? That's out. Product in the U.S.? Doable.

Buying a business with employees in Costa Rica is out. All we hear from gringos who own businesses here are the many ways you are taken advantage of and ripped off. You have to be at your business every minute it's open. You might as well have a job. On top of that, if you are going to own a business here with employees, you better be fluent in Spanish. As comfortable as we are with the language, we are at least a year out from being anywhere close to that. Probably ten. So employee biz here? Out. In the U.S.? Doable.

Our ace-in-the-hole plan would be to move to Gainesville, buy a business there (bar or shooting range, natch) while I spend three years in acupuncture school. That was the loosely held plan before moving to Costa Rica. We saw the end of the real estate game looming large and acupuncture is a good fit for me - I would love this career. Definitely doable.

As far as the boys go, being in the U.S. would be a good thing. They could get part-time jobs. There's a wealth of learning opportunities in a college town for teens, including college. We could live in Gainesville for probably less than what it costs to live here. Sad, but true. Security would not be an issue there. Better roads. Cheap Triscuits. Huge cheap bookstores. I mean, the only thing we can no longer live without is an income. If having one means living in the U.S., so be it. Would it be so bad? Heck, you do what you have to.

Well, we sat with that pro/con list for a few days, pretty much avoiding the white-board, coming to grips. Realizing the pros of moving back far outnumbered the cons when contemplating income. But man, were we getting depressed. At first, the list looked inviting. A return to familiarity. To knowing how everything works. No razor wire. Within a day's drive to all our Key West buddies. I could go to school. Teen growth opportunities...

I guess we've crossed some invisible line, rounded some curve, burnt some bridge... life looks different now. We so like living in Costa Rica. I mean, it's something, alright. Breathtaking, frustrating, hilarious, no question. There's no logical explanation. I wish I could put my finger on what has captured us so completely. Here we have a perfect reason to go "home," perfect timing, no one could fault us for going back. Turns out we'd rather eat monkey brains. Going back? Not doable unless there is flat out no other option. Erasing that pro/con list was SUCH a relief.

So we've filled three more white boards with Os&Is. And cartoon stick figures... Narrowing the field, we've been shopping biz for sale sites, calling, writing, negotiating. Owning a business in the U.S. would still be OK, as long as we didn't have to live there. Ruminating on all this, when, last week, out of the blue, a madcap millionaire inventor we just met wants Hal to do a business with him. Then the MMI's abogado [ah-bow-GAH-doe, attorney] invited Hal to participate in another business idea... both of which could work out. That's sure hopeful. Meeting with both in the next two weeks... hmmm.

So that's where I've been. Sorry to have dropped out of sight... I can't do two things at once. The reality of Must Have Income Now overtook us and I couldn't focus on anything else. But I'm back, and no longer panicked. Three days around Arenal, in the rainforest, driving over mountains, that puts things in perspective!

That we will come up with something, there is no doubt. They say the best indicator of what a person will do is what they've always done. We've always done fine. Personally, I'd like something pretty and fun. That we can do in Costa Rica. If you could send up a little prayer or white light, however you do it, that would be so lovely. I mean, do you really want to read a blog about life in Gainesville?

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.

Grabbing 4%

Must be nice to be a government, able to muck around with the money when the mood strikes. Grab a little here, a little there... I would have said "Stealing 4%" but that might sound a little caustic. Slanderous, even.

For instance. Last Thursday - Thanksgiving Day, ironically enough - if I gave someone a dollar, I got 520 colones in return.

Late that same day, without notice, the BCCR (Banco Central de Costa Rica) quietly revalued the colón in an attempt to gloss over Costa Rica's runaway inflation. When we woke up Friday morning, if we gave someone a dollar we only got 497 colones for it. Basically, a loss of 4% or 4¢ on a dollar. Nothing to really cry over when you are talking $1.

When you are talking $60,000 held in a CD to qualify for a residency visa... well, you want to sob and wail. To keen relentlessly. Overnight, while they slept, people who had their residency money in a Costa Rican bank (we don't, thank you very much) turned over $2,400 to the BCCR. "BAM!" as Emeril would say. To be used for the good of the people, I'm sure. Still... couldn't they have asked?

Since sobbing and wailing wouldn't get it back, my friends bit the bullet, took the loss, put the money in a colón CD making 6.6%. Add that to the interest they made on the dollar CD and in a year they will come out slightly ahead. PLUS: when the Central Bank does this again, which they most assuredly will to the tune of another 4% or even 5%, my friends will make that on their colones.

I love rationalization. Makes everything tidy.

The people this hurts most are those who have dollars intending to spend them as colones. Like expats. Like current and future tourists. If you are coming to Costa Rica, everything you do, eat, buy, visit will cost you 4% more. Again, not a significant sum. Unless you are staying at Xandari Resort or Los Suenos... In real money, if you spend $3,000 in-country, your trip will only cost you $120 more. Today.

If you are coming more than three months from now and the colón happens to be re-valued between now and then, it might be worth flying here asap on one of those $16 round-trip Spirit flights and loading up on some colones...

This move also hurts my tica landlord. Since we pay rent in dollars, she will take a 4% hit every month when she goes to spend those dollars. Unless she holds onto them and spends them in the states where they are still worth... well, whatever they are worth.

On the plus side for us (there I go again), since we aren't changing rent dollars into colones, we aren't losing that 4%. That's $40 a month we get to keep, enough to pay the cable and cel phone. There's some comfort in that.

In the Big Picture, the colón is still pretty worthless. The fact that the dollar has been devalued against it is startling news. Historic, in fact. For nearly 100 years, the dollar has been more valuable than just about everything. When we first got here, we got 480 colones for a dollar. The ₡480 steadily increased to the ₡520, meaning I got more and more colones for every dollar I spent. Nice.

October 2006, the BCCR decided to "float" the colón. I have no idea what this really means, but, in practical terms, it meant the colon no longer lost value. Basically, it froze at around ₡517. While I stopped getting more and more colones, I wasn't getting less.

Until now. To have a developing nation devalue the dollar against it's coin of the realm is unprecedented. I take it as a downward indicator for the dollar, frankly. TicoGrande says the dollar will never collapse. That I've been reading "too much left-wing silliness." What a goose - I only read murder mysteries!!! But I bet him $5, er, ₡2,485 that it would.

Meanwhile, inflation in Costa Rica, estimated at 12%, is eating away at your pocketbook no matter what currency you carry. Eggs cost 70¢ a pound January '06; today they cost $1. Still 35% less than in the states, despite the U.S. being all proud of its 3.5% inflation, so I guess I will try not to whine. Too much.

If you are now in colones, you are now looking forward to the next devaluation of the dollar against the colón. Rubbing your hands together like Scrooge... yessiree, take that 4%. Beats the heck out of just having it grabbed in the night.

Wrong Question

This morning, I had to admit to Hal that my homesickness has ratcheted up a notch lately. A big notch. So much so that, in my mind, I unconsciously find myself adding "when we go back" to the end of my thoughts. Unconsciously, until this morning when I heard my thoughts loud and clear. It stopped me in my tracks. Why was my mind going there? Why am I so homesick all of a sudden?

Consciously, I don't want to go back. Our lives are good here. We are comfortable, we know people, we get around, we love the country, the adventure. The language is even manageable. We are certainly as comfortable as anyone could be after such a short time in a new country, learning a new language, having left behind "x" number of years of familiarity. TTTT.*

Two years is the common turnaround time for expats who go back and we are fast approaching two years. No comments from the peanut gallery, Mr. Jones. But is there some catharsis that does or doesn't happen at the two year mark?

Sandford, my Key West mentor for 18 years, taught me a couple of things. Like the notion of displacement of effective stress: like yelling at the boys when I'm upset over a work situation or really mad at Hal. Like, it is darkest before the dawn. Confusing situations are most confusing just before clarity. Discomfort is most intense just before the seas calm. I've noticed that if I just hang in there long enough without quitting or running away, the answer comes. I'm going to assume this intense homesickness a) is not what it seems and b) will resolve. There is a light at the end of this tunnel. Maybe it's lighting up a path back to the states... I have to be open to that possibility. But I can't run back because I'm homesick. That would just be too embarrassing. Too weak. Heck, I'm no quitter.

But I'm looking for resolution. I can feel this anxiety in my body. That can't be good.

I had a dream a few nights ago. We had moved back to Key West and had done it very quickly. Sort of like how we moved here. I don't remember what precipitated the move, but we were in an empty rented house in Key West. It was really HOT and we were sweating. The house was your basic ranch style 1100sf three bedroom 1 bath center hallway CBS** with older yellow carpeting.

As I walked around this house in my dream, there was no strong emotion, just a pleasant familiarity, relief from the anxiety of "new" which I guess I still feel here more than I care to admit. My dream house was perfectly livable, but definitely the Key West house we would now be able to afford instead of the spacious, newly renovated Key West house with a pool we'd left behind.

As I walked, those nice feelings of familiarity evolved into feeling disoriented, then an overwhelming homesickness for this house, our Costa Rica home: the light, the view, the space. The feelings of accomplishment and security I have when I'm here. Of relief because we escaped to a friendlier place. I thought, "Oh my God, what have we done?" Probably the thought most of our friends had when we left Key West... In my dream, I was so confused, very sad, so much that I started crying which woke me up.

Ok, so I'm a little conflicted. Emotions are messy, illogical and unpredictable. There's a saying: feelings are not facts. Good thing. Feelings are just clues so you know to look for the effective stress hiding underneath. As far as actually going back...

Politically, we can't imagine going back unless Ron Paul were to win, which, as Pollyanna as I can be, just seems unlikely. Until last week, I was pretty certain it was gonna be Hillary which will make Mom happy, but I'm in the ABH camp. A Clinton in the White House will be more expensive and destructive for our economy than even we can imagine. Sadly, I don't believe Obama or Giuliani will be any better. Happily, there's still a year of promises to go before Decision 2008. What fun.

Financially, going back to Key West right now is out of the question. Cost of living is just too high. We'd be flat broke in six months with the same money that will give us almost two more years here.

Earning a living there that will allow us an equivalent quality of the life to the one we enjoy here seems unlikely, even in Key West where I still have a business and contacts. My small property management business there is good, expanding, even with me here. But the real estate sales business is costly to be in and sales are way, way down. Key West is out, for now.

Then there's the weather. I don't know if we could live in Florida heat again. Especially when we enjoy perfect weather here: no ac, no heat, with our choice of cold mountain or sweltering beach within two hours' drive.

So if we moved back to the states, we'd have to move to a new city, probably in central Florida. No language barrier, but we'd be going through the whole New Surroundings thing, culture shock of a different ilk, all over again. We just got through this one!!! Plus starting a business in a completely new place... oy vey. We are doing that here... what advantage is there to moving to yet another new locale?

Besides, it's my friends and familiarity I miss, not the U.S. So moving anywhere but Key West still leaves me homesick. Logically, there's no comfort to be found going back. So... what's the effective stress???

Leave it to Hal, my accidental therapist. When I told him all about my homesickness, wondering if he felt the same, he laughed out loud. He said, "You just say that because we don't have an income. Let's keep working on the income. Then the question we'll be asking is, 'Where do we go next?'"

Whoa. There it is. I've been asking the wrong question. See why I married him? You know, I always go back to safe. Hal never does. The "where do we go next" question completely eluded me. If the answer turns out to be "back to the U.S.," I can live with that. I'd just like to be driven forward by hope and possibility rather than driven back by anxiety and fear. If Hal can do it, I can learn to. There's something useful to teach the boys!

*TTTT = Chat room talk for "these things take time."
**CBS = Concrete Block Structure

La Carpio

"I've worked my way up from nothing to a state of extreme poverty." - Groucho Marx in Monkey Business

Somewhere over the rainbow, there is no place like La Carpio. No place at all. My visit last Wednesday was so overwhelming, I'm having a hard time putting everything into words coherently. You know, like I usually do.

Somehow, I'm a member of Helping Hands Costa Rica (HHCR). I'm not really a joiner, but I wanted to meet more expats and here was a group looking for members. I had nothing to do one night and voilà: I'm in.

HHCR was started by Evangeline, a young woman with boundless cheery enthusiasm for the task of ending poverty. You think, "This kid is going to burn out." But after being around her for awhile, you notice she is taking it as it comes, poco a poco. One shoe at a time. One colon at a time. That's the only way to survive. She very well might. I don't know about me.

We rode with Gail Nystrom, founder of the Costa Rica Humanitarian Foundation and tireless humanitarian. The purpose was to see what she does in La Carpio. "Bring your cameras," we were told.

I have heard of La Carpio. It's where the desperately poor live. People kill each other over there. I wasn't afraid of dying. My fear is that I would be in a van full of gringos going to photograph the desperately poor. Would they wave and smile? I would never know unless I went. So I did. I dragged Mom along. Something to take our minds off her luxury vacation at the overpriced hellhole.

La Carpio is filled with refugees, mostly Nicaraguan, almost all illegal. Population is estimated at 35,000. That's a lot of people. More than Key West's year round population of 28K and squeezed into a smaller area. None of it oceanfront. The land is "donated" by the government: these guys are squatters. They've been here so long, the land belongs to La Carpio. I'm not clear on the finer points, but you can buy and sell your house... I think the land is akin to a leasehold.

Housing styles range from cardboard to rusty tin to wood, many combinations, all held together with balance, spit and bread wrapper ties. In the nicer part of town, there's more cement block. The one paved road is a godsend. Many homes have dirt floors. Outdoor plumbing.

One of the things Gail does is buy houses for the poorest of the poor living in the worst shanties down by the river. When you are the newbie in this community, you start at the bottom of the hill. Everything runs downhill, you know. Right down to the river. [There are questions to be asked about exactly how well Costa Rica is preserving her natural resources. But this is not about that.]

In the photo left, all the way to the right further down is the river. This is a tiny snippet of the whole. I couldn't get enough perspective with my point and shoot camera.

On our way into town, Gail drove us by the landfill. The stench was sickening and we could smell it in town, everywhere. The landfill was supposed to be here 10 years then closed. It's now year 13, going gangbusters. A steady stream of trucks brought in the trash. You could see the methane gas flowing furiously from the pipes stuck in the dirt. Rumor has it there are chemicals being dumped here, then released into the river. But it's just a rumor.

When the government was looking for a landfill location, they went from town to town. Each town said NIMBY. La Carpio said NIMBY, too. The government offered to give title to the La Carpio homeowners in exchange for allowing the dump. La Carpio thought it over, then said NIMBY. The government offered to send in immigration. La Carpio couldn't fight that; they got a landfill.

When Gail is househunting, she looks for the basics. A house has to have something other than a dirt floor; it must have an indoor bathroom. A room for a kitchen. Running water. A window would be nice.

And before anyone starts in on how it's better to teach people how to fish than to feed them, walk a mile in Gail's shoes. If you don't feed, clothe and house people this poor, show them some love, show them that they matter, they will die of apathy before they can bait a hook. Gail's been doing this 17 years, the last 10 "officially" since she founded CRHF in 1997. She has a track record. The only reason we were not treated like a bunch of curious gringos is because we were with Gail. She has earned their respect. They trust her.

Gail used to come here everyday, for years. At the moment, she's spread a little thin and can't come everyday. She needs help, an assistant. She acknowledges that if she stopped coming, things would fall apart. She knows this because if she doesn't come often enough, things begin to fall apart. If you live here day in and day out, like these people live, it would be hard to keep your spirits up. There is no hope here. Gail brings it in.

She doesn't just buy houses. She's done more, so much more and not just here in La Carpio. Read the details at CRHF.com. She's opened a learning center for kids with toys, legos, games, a computer and the only library in the area. She's opened a clinic where anyone is welcome. There is another government run clinic down the road but that is only for ticos with papers. Nicas with no papers don't get medical care - let's not get into the politics, ok? At Gail's clinic, everyone is treated. The cost is un mil ($2) but if they don't have that, it is free.

We met Jessica, a mother of three. Gail bought a copier for Jessica so she can sell copies for 10 colones each (about 2 cents). Gail gives her new entrepreneurs supplies for a couple of months till they can get the hang of buying supplies and budgeting.

We stopped by the police station and met the officer on duty. He said there had been two murders that week, two young men. Presumably over drugs. He was friendly, let us stroll around, not anxious at all. He said the danger was at night, not so much in the day. I did get a photo of his fridge: it's like an old Chevy. The kitchen could some sprucing up.

Our last stop of the day, we visited with Maria, a mother of three (two teens and a little girl of six.) Maria was widowed two months ago. Her husband was killed in the U.S. where he was working legally, dragged out of his house and shot 15 times. She doesn't know why and she probably never will. The company he worked for, Ironco, has been very supportive.

Maria is waiting to get the life insurance - there is some holdup, something about murder not being covered. Then, she will go back to Nicaragua where her mother lives. You can hear some of her story here. The video is poor and there is a TV on in the background. Her teens were watching TV: they stay at home all day because they have been threatened by the other teens here. It is dangerous for them. Maria is quite depressed. Jesus, I would be, too.

Evangeline reported on the day here. See? Cheery. Four hours at La Carpio was enough for me to digest in one week. Not Mom. She gathered up all the shoes in the house - I think we each have a pair left - and went back with Gail today to see the kitchen where they feed 50 kids everyday and a group of 15 community women on Fridays. Mom is going to make lunch next Friday; she's all busy planning her menu. My mom is an excellent cook... they will want her everyday. Not to mention being a beacon of light her own self. With a little light and a dose of hope, you can get something started. At the risk of being entirely corny, if happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't anyone from La Carpio?

I Will NEVER Miss Another Cramer: