semana santa and an unwanted visitor

now for the local news: i now have a resident cat and 2 of her friends often visit, to chow down and wrestle in my living room. last nite as i was on my computer i noticed my resident cat toying with the tail of a small snake which had crawled behind my bedroom door, which was opened flat against the wall. hum, thats not a good sign. where there is a snakes tail, there must be the rest of the snake. rather than investigate myself and perhaps scare it into a less accessible place, i decided to call pablo, who of course was in san jose, just when i need him, so sandra called abel, and we soon had a convention of the entire bustamante clan; adults kids, and dogs, as abel opened the door away from the wall, and killed the snake. it was maybe 12 inches long and its head was so small he wasnt sure what kind it was but his reasoning was that since a boa of that small length is usually thicker, it was probably a fer de lance, which in case you ignorant snow freaks dont know, is highly poisonous, so best dispatch it. Even after it was dead and motionless, the head was so small it didn’t exhibit the telltale triangle or round shape that differentiates poisonous from harmless. So we then lit incense, rang bells, said appropriate prayers wishing it a better incarnation , and put it into a bucket and i then dumped it down a crab hole for the crabs to feast. fun and games in the tropics. i enjoy having the cats around but had no idea they would be so valuable. maybe i should be worried, but im not. the universe is taking care of me.
semana santa [easter holy week]is fun so far. each day more and more people arrive, but the vibe is still mellow. i have a new favorite place to eat- maxi's soda, the little soda below maxis. in past years i avoided it as the girls working there seemed quite unfriendly. however this year the wife of one of maxis relatives from limon is working there. her husband works the bar, and she works in the soda. she worked on cruise ships out of limon and speaks very good english, and is fun to talk with. Just as important, she is willing to make me mashed potatoes, so I can escape the deep fried French fries that accompany all local meals. It helps that she is also drop dead gorgeous and has a body and bodice that bring me to tears. she is about 30, happily married but we talk, and i lust. Oh yeah- semana santa. when i went to dinner tonite, at all the [3] sodas the tables were almost all occupied, and there were lots of people in the street, and i suddenly realized that so far at least, it simply feels like puerto viejo, nothing bad at all, simply strange for our sleepy village. it is predicted to get much crazier tomarrow nite thru sat nite, but so far its entertaining, and nothing more. and of course the people who warn it will get crazy live in a sleepy village all year, so reactions may be relative to their norm. im looking forward to observing and being entertained. today it rained on everyones parade. Nice change after the almost repressive heat of the past few days. hope for clear nite skies for rest of week, especially since there is a regae concert fri and sat nites. there is an interesting twist on things. by law, in the entire country, no alcohol can be sold from sometime tomarrow [thurs] until midnite sat nite . seems like a very short sacrifice for lent, but then again, these folks dont take religion that seriously. the concert and party starts at 11:30 pm, the idea being that after working up a 3 day thirst, everyone will be dying to toss em down and party hard. at least that’s the talk. we shall see, if i bother to stay awake that long.

a tale of two ants

A tale of two ants
Ants are often not what they seem to be. Amongst the many varieties of ants in the tropics, some have fearsome bites and are wisely avoided. The feared bullet ant is over an inch long and its bite is rumored to be extremely painful, and lasting for hours. Then there are a tiny variety barely seen by the eye, that can produce an irritating bite if you provoke them. But two varieties bear special mention as each is fascinating and our relationship to each is not what it first appears.
First is the leaf cutter ant, also called army ants. You are walking somewhere and suddenly you come across a veritable army of ants, marching along on a clear and defined path, each carrying a, for their size, enormous piece of leaf. Its quite a spectacle. They are bearing it back to their nest, as food for their colony. This remains merely fascinating until this event takes place in your garden and they strip every leaf off of your favorite plants and bushes. They are selective in their tastes, and don’t eat every living plant like a plague of locusts, but their preferred menu includes enuff of your favorite plants that you soon grow to hate them. So the emotions change quickly from fascination to anger, bordering on hatred. There are only two solutions. Live with them, and see them destroy all your gardening efforts, as I did for several years, or make the several hours journey to Bri Bri, march into the agricultural store, and purchase the special poison for leaf cutter ants. Organic methods? Don’t be silly. Remember they are also called army ants, and this is war.
Now for the second of our ant surprises: house cleaning ants. You are in your house, going about your normal business, when you notice a few ants scurrying about. Hum, you muse, this is unusual, did I leave some food out to tempt them? Then you notice more, and then still more. Soon there are a veritable hoard of ants, which may cover an entire wall, or a bed. If you stay out of their way, you notice that they are methodically moving thru your house, area by area, room by room. They will eat anything alive they find. They don’t touch your food, but they will consume every bug, insect, lizard, rodent, snake that doesnt immediately flee their voracious path. In a few hours they have entirely cleaned your house of any unwanted vermin and they then move on, to perhaps visit again after several months. What do you do? You go to the beach, or if its at nite, go visit a friend, and leave them to do their thing. So what at first appears to be a nightmare, seemingly scripted by Alfred Hitchcock, turns out to be a blessing. A free and very thorough housecleaning, courtesy of your local housecleaning ants.
One caution: they will not bite you unless provoked. One time I did manage to provoke them, by stomping a few of their scouts before I realized just who had come to visit. Whilst stomping their scouts, I received a bite. In retrospect it was fair enuff. I may have bought and paid for that house, but for that moment I was on their turf, not they on mine Ants seem to have an incredible communication amongst them, and the message went out that they were being attacked, and I subsequently received several more bites, until I strategically made my retreat. The bites weren't overly painful and I soon forgot about them. As the number of ant visitors increased I soon realized who they were, and left them alone to their task. I went over to visit my neighbor Abel. As we sat on his porch and chatted, I noticed I was beginning to itch in odd places. When I mentioned this to him, and that I had received several bites from the ants, he said, of course, you are allergic to those bites, and sure enuff,the itching was getting worse and hives were beginning to develop. He gave me some antihistamine capsules. There may be a natural remedy for histamine reactions, but I’d be surprised if it can beat benedryl. Within an hour, the hives were disappearing, the itching had ceased, and I could return home to no ants, and no other creepy crawly things. My house was cleaned.

THE ROAD

The road
Our Caribbean coast really has only one main road. There are a few parallel side streets in Puerto Viejo , 2 in Manzanillo, and a many small feeder roads going off of the main road to clusters of houses, and then ending in jungle. They are all dirt. The only paved road is the main road. It was paved. It still is, sort of. The road from Puerto Viejo to Manzanillo may be the worse paved road on planet earth. Dirt roads are what they are, and one can expect gulley’s, washboards, a multitude of bumps, and a basically uneven surface. But when the road is paved, and then develops pot holes, it can be an entirely unexpected experience. And here the potholes are legendary. Mind you, none of our potholes will swallow a cycle or car, but they are deep enuff to soon render your suspension system in dire need of repair. Perhaps a war zone has more potholes per inch on its roads but im sure not by much. Our road has smooth pavement for stretches, just to lull you into complacency, and then look out, there is a 2- 6 inch deep pothole. Usually several placed strategically across the road. This creates an exciting game of dodge em, which is sort of fun in the day time if there is no oncoming traffic. Its rather like skiing moguls, or a very tight slalom course. However if there is ongoing traffic, and be assured they are also weaving all over the narrow road trying to avoid similar potholes, the game instantly becomes quite challenging. Are they watching for on coming traffic [which is you] as well as avoiding potholes? Are you sure? How can you be sure? So you slow way down as you watch them approach and whoops, you hit every pothole on your side of the narrow road. If this adventure in mayhem is at nite, we get to factor in how bright and well aimed your headlite[s] is, if it can still be aimed at all, or was glued into place when the plastic mounts gave up the ghost after constant pounding from hitting potholes. [have I mentioned that the road has potholes?]. Then there are the oncoming cars headlites to consider, as a few drivers have mastered the concept of dimming their hi beams, but most seem to have slept thru that lesson if they ever went to driving school.
Well, you might ask, why doesn’t the govt do something about this mess? After all, this is a tourist destination. Don’t they know tourists and potential land purchasers will be put off by our terrible road and spend their money elsewhere? The govt must know, as everyone talks about it. Well they do, and they have done some things, sort of. They put in street lites along the entire 10 miles from Puerto Viejo to the end of the road in Manzanillo. The lites are wonderful when they work. Notice the phrase “when they work”? Need I say more? Once they burn out, or simply take a vacation, no one seems to repair them. Maintenance-what a concept. Perhaps a slight miscalculation in the govts planning but a not insignificant one.
But there is an even better story here. Money was allocated to repair our road. The money went to the alcalde or mayor of bri bri, our provincial capital. He kept it. He is now in jail awaiting trial for absconding with that money, and we are left still dodging potholes. Justice is developing in Costa Rica, and so are the pot holes.

Unexpected results

Unexpected results
I kept noticing small piles of rust colored granules on my cottage floors. oh yes abel says when I point it out to him. Those are from the bugs who are eating your house. When I built this house I used very cheap wood, and the bugs love that wood. Remember I warned you when I sold you the house. Bugs, eating my house, huh? That’s not good. Are they termites? no, they are not termites, they are pulillas. Eating my house huh? . What can I do to stop them? Poison, abel replies. Spray the wood with poison. Under the house you can spray used diesel oil, locals call it burn[ed]s oil and it will rid you of termites, but for pulillas you must use a poison you can only get at the vet and ag supply store in bri bri. So, last week I caught a ride with Richard, sauntered into the ag supply and stumbled thru enuff fractured Spanish to purchase two items: one was folier fertilizer for my baby flowering plants in my ever filling front yard. Sandra, who has lived across street from when abel owned it and the yard was bare, teases me, calling it my jungle. The second purchase was poison for pulillas. Two spray bottles completed my shopping, and I hitched back to Puerto, had a meal and then walked and hitched on home. The poison sat until this morn when I suddenly decided today was the day. I needed a sunny day, as if it smelled, meaning it was probably giving off toxic chemicals, I wanted it to dry by nitefall. I would hang at the beach until nitefall if necessary. The day began with full sun and I got mixed it with water and began to spray, only where the exposed wood showed evidence of bug damage. It was fun, and I went thru the whole house, the porch and hammock deck, and window shutters. There was no real feeling of poison and kill. Rather, it soon began to feel like caressing or cleansing the house, sort of like smudging with water. There was no smell at all, and I went about my day. I wasn’t expecting to feel anything, it was simply a maintenance chore that needed to be done. As the day went on, a curious phenomena slowly seeped into my consciousness. Ibegan to feel different. At first I thought is was simply relief that this semmingly major chore was finished and with relative ease. But then a new awareness came forth. The cottage itself felt different. Its hard to put it into words, but the cottage felt lighter, softer, almost happier. Could the departed pulillas have carried that negative a vibe? Or was the cottage itself responding to what it could only consider an act of loving kindness, in prolonging is life. I don’t want to get too woo woo on you, but as I sit and type this, it still feels different, and even tho I sprayed poison, its not a feeling of death, but of revitalized life.

of dreams and opportunities

Of dreams and opportunities
i never dream of people i know or recognize. in fact, i seem to be a charter member of the obtuse and inscrutable dream club, as they usually make so little sense to me that i often believe im tuning into someone elses dreams. they cant be mine. so last nites dream was unique, as i dreamed i was sitting at an outdoor cafe with lyle and he was explaining to me why he is not coming down here and probably will not build down here. he did not outline his vision, but it seemed to not include here, at least not for now. end of dream. we shall see what transpires on the material plane. the interaction was easy, friendly, pleasant. That is a nice omen in itself.

met the Mexican peyote shaman last nite, amidst a porch full of very nice people from all over the latin world. fell in love of course, this time with a young guatamalan. not with the shaman. he seems a nice friendly guy, but i see him as a means to my experience rather than a wise guide. we shall see who he becomes. he seems the local embodiment of our friend up north, the itinerant ayahuasca road man T. ceremony is tonite. Should I do it? the mind chatteres away with a litany including: its vile stuff to have to chew on, who would chose to get nauseous and perhaps vomit or even have to fight the urge, who wants to stay up all nite, struggling to stay awake, while he leads us in a native north american peyote ritual, and im not really into ritual, and its at the beach and the capper is that it might rain. didnt think of it last nite, but this morn had vivid memories of carl and my adventure while we were in peru, on the isle of the moon in the middle of lake Titicaca, nite time ritual under the stars in the ancient ruins of the temple of the moon, and the fierce storm that assailed us while we were out of our skulls on san pedro, and no shelter to be found. do i really want to repeat that one?
but all this being considered, the universe is presenting me with this unexpected and rather unique opportunity, and that must mean i should go for it. what are the odds that, at the end of the road in costa rica, i meet and am enamored with this young honduran who prefers women but is still fun to hang with, who has a spanish friend, who is hosting a mexican shaman, who is offering a healing/cleansing ceremony using a medicine and ritual from the mexican desert, and my translator if i need one is a young guatamalan? Just too much synchronicity to ignore. so i prepare for tonite and pray it doesnt rain. Pray with me.

its only a tee shirt

Don’t get all hot and bothered chamba, Its only a tee shirt
Ricky just completely blew my mind. The French café couple are in san jose for a week, so I had my breakfast down in the center of our metropolis, by maxis. As I was leaving I saw ricky, son of and proprietor of maxi’s and ambled over to say hola. He greeted me warmly, as ever, and as he or someone had this year produced a tee shirt advertising his restaurant, of course I had determined to buy one, I decided now was the time and asked to buy one. What was the cost? I enquired. I had heard they were $10, but wanted to make sure as I get local discount when I eat there. His reply astonished me. For you its free. This is your home here. He went on at some length in the local form of English but this is the gist of what he said. When I first saw you I knew you belonged here. The way you walk, the way you conduct yourself, you fit in here. These tee shirts are not a business for me. Look around. I don’t have them on the wall, advertising to sell them. Its not a business. They are for special people. You have a home, and this is your other home. What is your size and I’ll get one for you. And he did. I almost cried. In past I had wondered if his effusive manner with me was perhaps just part of his business persona, glad handing his customers. Boy was I wrong. He sees me for who I am and its genuine. What a blessing.

THE AMAZINGLY EVIL INTELLIGENCE OF THE COSTA RICAN PIPA

A MORNING SUBSTITUTE FOR COFFEE, OR
THE AMAZINGLY EVIL INTELLIGENCE OF THE COSTA RICAN PIPA
In manzanillo there are at least 2 kinds of coconuts. One produces the conventional coconut. Hard meat inside and no liquid, at least none when it decides to fall. Locals only value it when they need to grind the meat to make coconut milk for cooking. But its far easier to just buy the pieces of already shelled meat, and proceed from there. The extravagant, or the truly lazy, like most foreigners, can even buy the milk. Let someone else do the work. The other kind of coconut is called pipa. When it falls or is coaxed from its tree, it has no meat, but contains liquid that is refreshing, with just a hint of sweetness, and supposed to be very good for the health. As a further enticement, each pipa seems to contain just about exactly one cup of liquid. Abel planted several pipa trees in the yard when he built the house. So it is enticing indeed to drink a pipa every morning as ones wakeup beverage. There are three ways to obtain the juice nesting within. The first requires a machine shop equipped with band saw or drill press. Since few of us travel with such paraphernalia, We will eliminate that option from our consideration. The 2nd requires the deft manipulation of a machete. You must slice off the top, till you expose the cavity, this without spilling the nectar within. Not as easy as it seems and one could lose fingers in the process. The 3rd way, and we are not invoking the principles of georges gurgief here, is if you know the piba’s secret. Which is that where the stem comes out, the stem that joined the pipa to its branch, is the soft spot. If you twist off the stem, and then simply poke a somewhat sharp instrument into the soft spot, you can pierce the otherwise impenetrable shell and get to the nectar. Therein lies the evil. If nature were kind, she would have a notice printed on each pipa: caution, contents under pressure. But nature is not kind. She is bountiful, but she is neutral, and can at times be rather unforgiving. This is one of those times. A pipa is round. Rather difficult to hold while pushing your sharp instrument into the soft spot. You do not have a table with large vice. Drat. No willing accomplice is nearby. Double drat. You have strong desires to drink the nectar. The natural thing at this point is to sit down with your round piba held between your feet and pierce the soft spot. And now the evil intelligence shows itself. For no matter how you position the piba, no matter from what direction you apply your instrument. The pipa, will always, always manage to spray you right in the crotch. There is no escape. Accept it. Expect it. Live with it. Such is the price for your morning drink from the pipa. Call it a double wakeup call.

Report from the tropics 1

Report from the tropics 1 this is actually the first thing I wrote after arriving down here, so these blog entries are not in order. Ah well, you cant have everything perfect. Im sure there is a way to erase what ive just posted and then repost em in order, but I cant be bothered. In future they might be in order. Maybe. Maybe not. well, ive no idea how it happened, but when i went to this blog to try to reorder them they were already in correct order. i have no idea how that happened. but this is manzanillo, cr. i have no idea how many things happen. so, here we go.
Well, the weather has been nothing short of incredible. Today is my 6th day here and its rained maybe 2x, both at nite, and no more than 10 minutes each. Disgusting. Remember that last year I experienced rain every day for the first 2 weeks, and in dec, the month before my arrival, they had the most rain in the 60 years someone from the govt had been paying attention. Many homes flooded along the entire coast, from limon to manzanillo. My back room which is at ground level had a few inches of water for a day or so. abel raised the land before building. Some others did not plan as well, and had more problems. Abel used poison to get rid of the leaf cutter ants that were decimating my garden and my flowers and colorful plants look superb. Plants in front are so high, I may have to cut em back so I can people watch from my hammock. The decisions and work here just never ends. Ricky is the son of maxi and now runs maxi's famous restaurant. He has an annual birthday bash which draws people from the entire coast and at least as far as san jose, that I know of. Well the huge bash was sat nite, and a good time was had by all. not as huge as 3 years ago [i arrived too late for last year] but still filled the village as far as the evangelical church. They give away platters of snacks, and ron don soup which translates from the local pigeon as run down. What ever they can run down goes into the soup pot. I drank some but was reluctant to eat the solids. Lots of suspicious activity amongst some very interestingly dressed women going out to cars with men and then back to the dance, but who am I to cast aspersions on local customs? The music was surprisingly good, 2 fine bands, first latin stuff, 2nd great calypso/ reggae, separated by one ego centric clown doing beyond boring rap at full volume. Ah, how I do love rap, especially when done by roosters crowing about how cool they think they are. One bright note was that my fantasy lady love [she of the loose morals and economic necessity] visited from her new home in panama, and I surprised her with my gifts of thrift store clothes for her kids. Two Nevada city ladies came by for few days visit and as they hired abel for a jungle walk, I finally succumbed and went along. 3-4 hours in deep jungle, and could have been longer if we had brought food. Abel is highly entertaining and gives a great tour. One poisonous bright yellow snake, several frogs, some spider monkeys, a brief sighting of a toucan, a few other birds, sounds of howler monkeys in the distance [probably from the trees behind my house], a pregnant tarantula lugging her egg case behind her, lots of botanical info, and finally had to tell one of the ladies to stop talking about herself so we could hear what abel had to say. Im continually amazed by some peoples belief that their guide [and fellow tourists] are interested in their experiences back home. That’s the ticket. Hire a guide, stomp off with them into new territory and then dominate the airwaves telling all within earshot about your life back home. unbeatable combination of insecurity and insensitivity. Isn’t that what therapists are for? Geezerhood may yet bring me tolerance for fools but it obviously hasn’t happened yet. Now for the important news. Football playoffs last weekend. Great games. A pleasure to watch great qb’ing. Peyton is a master. Amazingly few penalties in both games. Either they swallow their whistles for the line play or it’s the disciplined teams that make it this far. Sure were fun games to watch. Watched at Richards which is a trip as its party central and he thrives on the energy. Ends up with too much alcohol so I depart soon after. The young Dutchman who owns the nice white cabinas up my road has a serious drinking problem and its interesting to overhear others discussing it with his wife, who is concerned. No one has asked me so I haven’t said anything. Get over your shock. We shall see how long that lasts. He’s into mixed drinks and as the self regulating mechanism is absent he just pours em down. White mans malady of the tropics. Keep your mind occupied or it will lead you to the bottle, and with some folks, even when the mind has better things . Having a problem with my water system pump, but other than that, all seems to be in order, and will finish setting up my house and doing odd jobs in a day or so, and turn to working on my handwriting project and maybe editing a few stories. Maybe not. We shall see.
Still in love w manz. tranquil, and filled with characters. The ex pats have instituted weekly poker nites, but as I was about to go, the girls emailed me they were on their way. So it waits till next thurs nite. So save thurs nites when you come down here.
Taking it very slow so far. Have not ventured out at all. Filepe deliverd my moto but haven’t even ridden it yet. No trips to pv, no trip to see the tree scrunched ruin on my beach property, nada. Walked to maxis for rickies party, several times to Richards, a few times to the beach, and the jungle walk, and that’s the farthest ive been. The world awaits. It will still be there when im ready. Did make it back to check out carl/lyles property. Its still there. No one seems to have stolen any trees nor rocks. A banana plant is growing near your expensive culvert system. Pablo or abel will reap the reward as it wont fruit when you are here. That seems to be a rule. Able informed me that Pablo got the fruit from one of mine and the bastard wont reciprocate. Low class locals. Im continually delited by the greetings from the locals. It does feel like home. 2 black pre teen girls came over to hit me up for chocolate. Their story was that before I left I promised to bring them chocolate. Im blaming it on carl, so you owe me. Im still waiting for my true love, but it’s a hell of a fine place to be waiting. Well, time to head to the French café for breakfast. One can only go so long on love alone

report from the tropics 2

Report from the tropics 2
Well, it is officially the end of the rainy season on the Caribbean coast. How do I know? Because today, the road grader, water truck and road roller appeared from wherever they hide the rest of the year and graded the main st of the fair metropolis of manzanillo. Seems to me that last year they appeared at least a month later. Assume they will continue on to Puerto in days to come and I wont have to hear visiting friends complain about our world class pot holes. Or to quote skip alan smith, maybe, maybe not.
And now for the rest of the story. There is an old joke that goes, ask 3 people for their opinion and you will get 4 opinions. I think the following qualifies. I previously mentioned that the govt has dropped off cement parts for septic tanks in most front yards in the village. Looked good to me. However my Hungarian-american friend clint, who as one of the first foreigners to settle here has refined pessimism to a high art form, was quick to opine that it would never happen. He pointed out that they were delivered in X[forgot the month, but it was impressively long ago], have laid around peoples yards since , and no one knows what to do with them. Some use em as tables, and after a while some of the more fragile parts break. Abel says everyone is waiting for some govt inspectors to arrive and tell us how to install em. Clint says it will never happen. He points out that it was not the govt per se that supplied em, but that some mysterious benefactor donated $250,000 to purchase em, to protect the local ocean and ground water from contamination. The goal seems to be to have our beach receive a blue rating for cleanliness, which will impress tourists who will flock here in ddroves and leave cash behind. And so it goes with the ecological movement. so dennis the de facto mayor did sue some of the grant money to purchase em. And just possibly pocketed some spare change in the deal, as clint is no fan of dennis. But that is a separate tale, and we may never know for sure. Be that as it may, they were delivered, and have sat ever since. Again, no one knows what to do with em. And of course, if they did, and it required effort, how many would do so? and so we seem to have achieved Snafu: which is short for: situation normal, all fouled up.

this is too cool

This is too cool. Late afternoon I took a scooter ride half way to Puerto to the fancy swiss deli. He’s got stuff no one else has. I don’t venture that far often, so I stocked up and spent all the money I had with me. I hadn’t left manz since arrival so thought I had plenty of gas. Thought wrong, and ran out of gas on way home. Fuck. Its dark, i have no idea where I can get gas and if I can even find it I have no money to buy it. A quad came by, driver wearing manz tee shirt. Whistled him down, figuring I could hitch a ride and come back in morn w/ money and find gas. No, he was local, not going to manz. Did he at least know where I could find gas? Yes, 100m up on left. Wow, only 100 m when It could have been miles. Pushed my scooter up the guys drive way, and explained in fractured sp that I lived in manz, spent all my money on groceries, but if he’d front me a gallon of gas id leave my groceries as collateral till morning. Pointed to my head, and said poco stupido. He poured me a gallon, and then waved off my groceries. Its ok, come back and pay me in the morning. I could expect that in my village, where people know me, but this was too far for rumors of the crazy gringo odd job to have reached, and so this guy didn’t know me from adam. But he trusted me. Pretty cool eh?

The great weekly poker nite

The great weekly poker nite
made it to the great weekly poker nite last nite. you would have loved it. they are serious. the two dutch guys had gone out in a boat with locals that day and came back with 9 lobster, which they bbqed, and we feasted. so far so good. then came poker. texas blind draw whatever in hell that is. very confusing, and the crusher was that they insist on playing till one person holds all the chips. By midnite most just prayed it would be over but no one was willing to just pay out the remaining chips and call it a nite. They had their custom and deviation was verboten. Interesting dynamic as some were willing but one loud woman was not and she carried the eve. i gave up at 1am, announced they could have all my chips and fell into a nearby hammock. hosts house circulates and this time was too far for me to walk home, but someone who had dropped out took pity on me and drove me home. who says whining has no benefits? The only other problem was that they all smoke cigarettes like chimneys, and even in a 2nd floor room with few walls and no windows I felt like a slowly smoked fish. Last nite was first rain so far, and continued off and on today. its so cold i have to wear a tee shirt in the house and now must put on long pants. brutal. Today was to be my first foray to Puerto for shopping, but the rains kept me house bound. Manana.

Acquiring a part for my scooter

 Acquiring a part for my scooter.

One of the major problems of having a vehicle down here, is storing it when you are gone.  Since im only here 3 months and in calif for 9, this can be a real problem.  Just parking it is out of the question.  The humidity and salt air would render it scrap in no time.   Someone must keep it and preferably use it.   Took a flyer on a local kid several years ago and he trashed the scooter I lent him. A heap of junk when I returned.   Ah well. Bad choice.   Similar  experience the next year with the next scooter.  Sigltly better person, but  a cheating mechanic stole parts off it before returning what was left as essentially junk.  Last year left my  scooter roman numeral 3 with german ex pat who is the local fixit.   Eureka. At last I found someone I could trust.   It was in great shape when I arrived.  He even painted  it.  Word is he rode it exclusively as it gets better mileage than his gas guzzling larger bike.  Only problem is that something is wrong with the charging system and it tends to blow headlite bulbs.  One would have to experience the series of potholes that passes for the main road to understand the value of a headlite at nite.  Around the village no sweat, but my main purpose in even having the scooter is for the occasional shopping forays to the neighboring town of Puerto Viejo, 10 miles up the road.  When o go I like to have a fine meal at one of the excellent restaurants for tourists, which means a return after dark.  The road is a  pot holed experience by day and a hellish adventure by nite.   

This lengthy preamble sets the stage for the following tale: 

Acquiring a part for my scooter.

Life in cr:  part x

things happen here, that seem to require attention, are given what one supposes is sufficient attention, and then that attention doesnt bring results, and on and on.  example:  my local mechanic wrote me months ago that  we needed an electrical  part for my scooter.  wanted me to get it in states, as well as a wiring diagram.  So I tried, but several hours on computer revealed that my model was not sold in states.  no listing.  It didn’t exist. No worries.  I’ll try again when in cr.  Im here and time for plan B.  so spent several hours having tico friend abel phone  san jose yahama dealer for me, to order the part.  why my local  mech didnt do that in first place?  well, his spanish is not good enuff.  it took abel at least an hour to arrange it.  then i had to transfer money from my bank to theirs to pay for it.  except they gave us the wrong bank accnt # for that kind of transfer. Only took half an hour to figure out why the internet transfer would not work.  And three more phone calls.   For some other kind of bank to bank transfer it would work but not for that kind.  toss another hour into the void.  now the part is on its way.  can i pick it up in Puerto Viejo- the nearest freight office?  not exactly.  we had em send it to abel, not to my name.  big mistake.  can i pick it up for able?  not exactly. Can’t abel simply call the  freight office in pv and  tell em that chamba, passport so and so, will pick it up for him?  Or can he write a note to that effect, for me to give them?   probably but it might have to be witnessed/signed by a notary.  Seems to depend on the mood of the guy at the freight office.  so answer is maybe, maybe not.  are you beginning to get the picture?  oh yeah, now for the kicker.  we need a wiring diagram in order to ascertain the scooter is  properly wired in the first place, so as to  not fry the new electrical component when we put it in. [remember I bought the scooter used and only  god knows how many pseudo mechanics have fiddled with it over the years].  in states, you go on web and download the diagram which in this case does not exist [there] as the model does not exist.  so we ask the dealer to have his mechanic please photo copy the single page and send it to us, by freight along with the part, in an email, by fax, or on mule back.  whatever, just send us the diagram.  only to be informed that that is illegal.  they can only provide wiring diagram to licensed mechanic.  is this true or simply that they want to do the repairs, and no one else?  how the fuck do i know?  and what might it take to actually find out?  If they were close by it might be worth it, to bite the bullet and have em do the installation, but san jose is 5 hours by car, and one would die on the way if they attempted to ride this 100 cc scooter there.  Of course the lack of the wiring diagram is not really a problem until i have the part in my hands and its anyones guess when that might occur.  Its is “sure” to arrive today.  Will I go today to get it?  Of course not.  I’ll wait at least until tomarrow.  Slowly, and painfully, im learning. 

And lyle plans to come down here and marshal the troops to build him a house.  i can hardly wait. For sheer entertainment value it should be priceless.