26 September, 2002

Little personal note here: Steve is so cute! He wrote all of the journals for the last few days and his note for the 26th on his rough draft is, "BB's BIG ALAJUELA DAY". Adorable.

Bb did have a fairly big day in Alajuela, as it turns out. There's this pair of pants, see, and Bb is dying to wear them. The only thing in between her and this pair of pants, is well, the pants. All she's got of them is a photograph. It's a fairly tragic situation: in Bb's home country, there is a strict caste system between Clothes Normal People Wear and Clothes That Normal People Are Sure No One Ever Really Pays That Much For. Well, these pants belong to the latter class and therefore, will never be worn by Bb, unless she can . . . GET THEM MADE!

So, having carried this photograph around for two months (it's actually pasted into her journal and she looks at it frequently), she finally gathers up the courage to make them hers. Mind you, A)Bb doesn't know what a seamstress is called in Spanish, B) She has no idea how to say embroidery (they are heavily embroidered) and C) The photo is of a girl sitting down wearing them, so you can't really see exactly how they are made -- i.e. she needs to find an artist to make these pants a reality.

She starts of by remembering (or getting Steve to remember, actually) the name for a tailor shop (Sastreria). Great. So she asks the hotelier at the Pacande for a Sastreria in town. Okay, down by the park with the palm trees and he's got a little window.

She finds the Sastreria, a nice older man, who laughs gently at her and shakes his head. "Pero, hay alguien que puede hacer estos en esta ciudad?" (But, is there ANYONE who can make these in this city?) "Es possible?" (Is it possible?) "Si, si", he smiles and points her down the street.

Back past the palm-tree park and she sees a soda with two little tables for eating and a guy with a rotting front tooth and greasy hair at a sewing machine in the front window. Now, mind you, at some point, Bb's gonna have to strip down to her skivvies to take measurements for the pants . . .

She asks her same question of this guy, and he too, shakes his head, "no." She asks again, wondering if she's going to have to traipse all over San Jose for a tailor that can do the work (ugh.) But this guy thinks and says, yeah, there's a lady just next door with a black awning and you have to go inside, but she can do it. Mind you also, that this is all in Spanish! (Bb's feeling pretty good about this, but isn't sure she's quite getting it right).

She walks two doors down from sewing-machine guy and there IS a black awning, so she walks back through a courtyard full of drying laundry and children and a couple of women and looks around -- sees a lady ironing, that's not quite right, sees a room full of junk, that's not right, then she looks up and sees a lady in the window at a sewing machine -- that's right! Just as she's about to head up the stairs (dodging laundry to get there), someone calls to her. "Uh, oh, I'm in someone's courtyard!", she thinks. But the lady is nice and Bb explains again what she is looking for and the woman says,

"Soy yo costurera." (I am a blah-blah-blah.)

"Uh, yeah, but can you make these?"

"Soy yo costurera." (I am a blah-blah-blah.)

"Uh, yeah, but can you make these?"

Finally, it dawns on Bb, oh, right costurera -- seamstress!! Yeah, you can make these!

But, actually, Melba, the costurera can only make the pants part. She doesn't do embroidery, but she invites Bb on upstairs to call her friend who does the embroidery. Upstairs is a TV, the sewing machine in the window, an ironing board a table and a couch. This is a complete little world of women. There is a woman at each piece of furniture and a few little girls by the couch. There are no men here. This is what books are talking about when they mean to evoke an old-world sense of the woman's-world vs. men's. Totally wild for Bb.

Turns out, Melba doesn't get her own phone line for another month, so we traipse back down the stairs, across the park and to the pay phone. The first one doesn't work. Over to the other side of the park to use the other one. Her friend isn't there, but should we go look at fabric. Let's remind you readers again that this is all in SPANISH. Bb just might be getting a hold on this language after all.

The first fabric shop is a bust (Bb needs dark green linen), the second shop is better, but she's not impressed with the quality of linen, so she and Melba settle on a cotton poly mix, which will cost about $6 for a meter and a half -- a little more than a yard. Great. But we still haven't talked to the embroidery lady and so far, Bb's been able to get Melba to offer up a price of about $15,000 colones (around $45 bucks). But really, we need to talk to her friend.

"Entonces, usted quiere comprar la tela ahorita?" (So, do you blah-blah-blah-blah?)

"Mmmmm, no entiendo." (Mmmmm, I've no clue what you just said to me.)

"Entonces, usted quiere comprar la tela ahorita?" (So, do you blah-blah-blah-blah?)

"Mmmmm, no entiendo." (Mmmmm, I've no clue what you just said to me.)

Oh!! Do I want to buy the material now? Great. Bb gets it. But she's not ready to buy, before she knows what she's getting into monetarily. So she uses the best Latin-American excuse in the book:

"Not right now, I've got to go check with my husband."

Melba replies something to the effect of, "Of course, to see if you can spend the money!" We're definitely bonding now, as we can both relate to those dastardly husbands who won't let you spend money without asking them first. It would probably blow her away to know that Steve couldn't care less what Bb spends on her pants- especially if she stops talking about them. It's kindof a mean trick, but boy, it sure does dome in handy!

Back across the park, up to Melba's house again to wait for her friend. This older lady comes walking up the stairs and when she sees the picture, she looks at Bb like Bb's lost her mind. This is so much work, she exclaims (no kidding, that's why I'm having someone ELSE make it!, Bb thinks) The poor thing keeps rubbing her wrist in anticipation of aches to come as she looks at the picture again and again.

It's at this point that Bb realizes two things: A) she's not going to get to wear these pants to Heather's wedding and B) there is no way that the pants she would get made by these two nice ladies would look anything like the picture!

27 September- 4 October, 2002

Exciting week for us. We found a hotel in Tamarindo that is for sale. We met the owner, looked around the place, and generally got all excited dreaming about what the future could be. Unfortunately, the whole deal had a very tight timetable (about two weeks) and we just couldn't round up enough capital on such short notice....

...and the fish got away.

Which you would think would make us really unhappy, and in fact did make us unhappy for about a day. But in the end and taking the long view, we've realized that this, like most things good or awful that happen, probably happened for a reason that we may never understand. Just the hard thinking and scrambling for funds was an important exercise. We also learned a bit about ourselves and what sort of operation we want to own someday.

Along the way we've also started our application to become legal residents of Costa Rica. A big step towards making it easier to get loans from the banks here (though interest rates here are generally crazy-expensive at 20% to 25%!! due to the 10-15% annual devaluation of the colon), legal residency will allow us to hang around for a few years, get us started towards applying for permanent residency, and will let us start our own legitimate business(es). Technically we would still not be legally employable, but could always work for someone on a consultant basis. Oh, and one of the super-cool things: $58/month for full medical insurance for the two of us. Yup, less than $700/year for medical insurance for the whole family. We aren't sure yet if that includes dental, but it is supposed to cover eyes and even plastic surgery, apparently. (Not that we plan to use that part of it...)

Bb digs into a plate of Gallo Pinto con salchicha in Liberia. Yummy.	Gratuitous hilltop posed photo of the cruiser. Somewhere near Tamarindo.	Sunset in Orotina, from several weeks ago, but still pretty

So getting our ducks almost in a row for that took some time out of the week as well. On the "that was awful" side of the balance sheet we include a trip to the bank. We've come to dread the bank. The latest fiasco involved opening an account at Banco Nacional in Tamarindo. After waiting in line for about half an hour we got up to the desk to open the account and were informed by the guy there that all we need is our passport and electrical bill.

"Electrical bill?", puzzles Steve

"Recibo de electricidad" (Electrical bill) "Lo usamos para verificar su direccion" (We use it to verify your address)

"But we don't have one. We are staying at a hotel."

"Pues, pide uno del dueño." (Well, ask the owner for one)

"But that won't have our name on it"

"No importa" (That isn't important)

"So... we could just ask anyone in the street for their bill. Why bother checking it??"

"Bueno... Si, pero lo verificamos" (Well, yes, but we check it)

"You call?"

"No"

"You go there to check?"

"No"

"So any bill will work?"

"Bueno. Si. Pero se supone que debe de ser de donde usted vive." (Well, yes, but it is supposed to be from where you live)

"Ok. We'll have to come back," laughed Steve with no small measure of incredulity and a tinge of sadness at how stupid this request was.

And so we spent the next hour or so trying to get in touch with one of the various people who we have befriended in Tamarindo in order to get ahold of their electrical bill. We finally got one from the fine folks at Sharkbite (the sandwich shop) but of course the bill is in their landlord's name and didn't even really have an address on it. Oh, well. What the heck, let's see what happens!

Back to the bank. Another hour and 45 minutes of waiting. We talk with the guy again. Open the account. Yeah!! In the process of opening the account the guy leaned over to Steve and confessed that "Tiene razon. Es un requisito estupido" (You are right, it is a stupid requirement). Probably it was when he realized that the bill had nothing whatsoever to do with us. Lesson learned: sometimes it is better to just jump through the hoop and not waste energy trying to figure out why the hoop is there. As Willie at Sharkbite told us: There are two phrases you'll learn not to say around here: "Why don't they...." and "Wouldn't it make more sense if...."

Oh, and Steve also took care of getting Bubba to pass our Technical Revision. The Revision Tecnico de Vehiculos (RTV) is a new annual inspection that (in theory) all cars in Costa Rica must pass. We were a little bit worried about it as Bubba has a couple of minor problems- the brakes pull to the left a little bit and the springs bushings are shot- that we haven't fixed yet. So Steve spent a solid afternoon of mosquito-laden fun crawling around under Bubba trying to get her reverse lights to work properly (they never have). Boy, reclining into the damp comfort of rocky, sandy soil to work under a cruiser when it is about 85° F and 90% humidity isn't all that much fun. Throw in a few dozen bloodthirsty mozzies (one actually bit Steve through his Levi's!!) and you've got quite a lovely way to kill a few hours.

So the following day he headed up to Liberia to do the dreaded revision and was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly and easily it all went. The testing itself is super-modern- all computerized and shiny-clean.. You drive up as if it were a drive-through car wash of sorts and there are about five stations. At each station they check something, #1 was wipers, lights (turn, brake, reverse, lo-beam, hi-beam) and vin/engine number, #2 was a mechanized shock and suspension tester that jolts the vehicle then shows on a huge computer readout how well your shocks dampen the movement (pretty cool stuff!), #3 tests brakes, #4 tests steering components and alignment, and finally #5 is a basic emissions sniffer test. They don't care what emissions equipment is on the motor- different years have different standards. If you pass, fine. If you don't, you go get it fixed and try again. Simple. California could learn something from all of this, thought Steve, several times.

So the whole process took about 45 minutes. We failed. One of the three turn-indicator lights on the front right blinker didn't go on. The other two were fine, but #3 was out and thus we failed. Steve fixed that problem in about two minutes in the parking lot. The inspector came out and saw that the blinker now worked (fortunately he didn't see that Steve had merely removed the bulb from the parking light and put it into the blinker...) so we walked back inside and changed the paperwork to a pass. Done. Remarkably free from confusion and waiting aimlessly and general "What the heck is going on". The bank could learn something, thought Steve, several times.

So at the end of the week, though we didn't feel like we had really accomplished much, we've actually gotten a few very important things squared away. And to top it all off- Bb learned to surf. Yep. Surf. She loves it. While Steve was donating blood to the local mosquito population under Bubba, Bb convinced Cocktoaston to spend two hours standing around in the waves teaching her. He says she is a natural. Fun!

Unfortunately, surfing was about the last productive thing that Bb did for the next five days or so as she came down with wicked case of RIT (rapid intestinal transit) that relegated her to "within 15 feet of the bathroom" activities. She is feeling much better now.

5 October-11 October, 2002

Well, we're back in California. Not exactly thrilled to be gone from Costa Rica as we were feeling like we were finally starting to get some traction. But we are really excited to be seeing familiar faces and spending time with our family, so it balances out.

Before we left we got a chance to spend some time with Simon and Vanessa, which was really nice as we've missed seeing the two of them. Not nearly enough time, but at least we got to see them. Bb also made a great herbal aromatherapy footbath for Steve because he was tired and stressed out. He felt much better afterwards.

The plane ride home was lousy. Lots and lots of waiting around. Yuck. The flights themselves were pretty low-key. On the Houston-San Francisco leg Bb talked them into giving us the exit-row seats and we had three seats to ourselves. Very comfortable, even for short-legged people like us. Oh, and for all of you out there who are paranoid about flying- Bb accidentally left a pocket knife in her purse. Nobody noticed. Scary.

Old guys in Santa Cruz, watching young girls play volleyball	Joyce and Bb at the beach	Crazy thing in the parking lot.

29 November, 2002

We are still alive and still in California. We've had a nice visit including two wonderful weddings, a jaunt up to Boise to visit inlaws and friends, a lot of time with family and friends here in California and a delicious Thanksgiving dinner. We'll post some more photos shortly. For "local" readers: if you can get to the Monterey Bay Aquarium soon, we highly recommend it! They've got some lobed comb jellies on display that are magnificent! This is the first time they've been on display and the aquarium isn't sure how long they'll be able to keep them alive. Well worth the visit (sorry no good pictures of them).

a beaver we saw building his (her?) dam in Idaho	Eucalyptus	Deceptively pretty for such a pestilent weed	Winter photography with Lori near Idaho City. Brr!

Here are some recently scanned slides.... just something to look at till we have another update ready.

	Butterfly grabbing a sip in Vanessa's garden		Itty bitty grasshopper (bout thumbnail size)
4 foot mask on the party house wall		Another butterfly		Bb and Cocktoaston come in from a swim
	crocodiles, as seen from a bridge on the freeway to Quepos		Dusk from Atenas