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Stephen:

Although we did many of the things on our lists, we missed returning the library books and hope Dan and Bebe will take care of that. We turned over the house to them and sailed out the door with two light suitcases and two heavy back packs. The scale at the airport said the two suitcases weighed 65 lbs. together and the backpacks weighed 25 pounds together.

The fog was pea-soupish, the gate next to us was announcing that the equipment could not land and was being diverted to Hartford, then to Springfield. Dawn wanted to call everyone and tell them she loved them, which I told her that they already knew. We were flying one of Boeing's newest and brightest so we were told there was nothing to worry about. We took off without a hitch and they promised us that the captain would keep us abreast of the score as we were flying during the first of the "Big Games" that the Patriots may be playing this month. The Patriots' score seems to mount in some supernatural way. When we landed in Miami I was able to "see" the last few minutes of the mop up. With that camera level, it looked like a high school game.

We found a book in Spanish in Dawn's seat, "Noticia de Sequestro." We managed, I mean Dawn managed with my occasional help, to sort of read the first couple of pages. It seemed like a good sign.

After the game finished in Miami, We got our boarding passes and then had a drink at a "Miami" bar in the airport. All the right colors. We watched part of the Dallas game, but football is really boring when you don't care who wins. Even when you do care, it is sloooo. The next leg to San Jose was uneventful. I listen to my Spanish tapes. Would they help? Somehow, I was given a Spanish language immigration card. I was too stupid to realize I should get one in English, and combined with some article I read in the Miami airport magazine about import taxes, and my inability to in fact read Dawn's card, I believed that I was going to have to pay taxes on the worth of my laptop over $500. While I was trying to decipher all of this, my suitcase was not showing up. Most of you are probably familiar with the sinking feeling you get in your stomach when as the number of people around the conveyor belt is shrinking and you are beginning to look at each other and make faces, the belt stops.

The silence bounces around in your brain

I began to look around the room and after about five minutes found my bag near a stack of bags that all looked familiar. Did they send their son to get all the blue bags and they would sort theirs out later? I have never seen a flight that has so many bags that looked like mine.

The airport has colored lines on the floor that tells you where to go depending on how many bags you are carrying. You cannot imagine how many people going to Costa Rica are color blind. We theorized perhaps a vision clinic had been set up in Costa Rica alongside the tummy tuck and face lift places. Well, I did not have to pay any taxes, and they did not even look at anything. So now we are going up the stairs to look for someone named Gata, a secretary at the school, who was supposed to wave a green sign with white letters saying --- Wait, there she is. What a great sight she was as it was now dark and we did not have much of a clue otherwise and the last time someone said the would meet me at the airport it was in Tokyo and he said he would have an elephant on his back and he never showed up. Gata was, of course, a woman. Gata is a female cat; Gato is male. Chico, the driver, helped Dawn with her bags, then went off for the car, excuse me, the jeep. It was an interesting ride, not gentle through roads of various degrees of completeness to our family. The Badillos.
------------------  Jeannette and Guillermo

Dawn: Well, not actually "the Badillos"...Jeannette Badillo and Guillermo something else. They keep their names in Latin America even though it is a muy Catolico country. The kids get both their parents' names. Our host (pronounced Yanett) is very sweet, amiable and energetic, and is 20 years younger than her husband. The house is very basic, rather funky really, no hot water in the taps but an electrical device that makes the shower slightly warmer than cold. We have an uncomfortable mattress and not enough light to read in the bedroom. Rice and beans every day...not bad for a vegetarian, but a little boring. Although tonight we had fried yucca that was delicious, much pineapple, papaya, and banana.

The town of Santa Ana is a working class, agricultural, mining town. Much gasoline fumes, noisy motos and loco drivers! But trees are blooming everywhere in all colors, fruit is falling off the trees, and the people are very friendly. The school is up in the hills and gorgeous. We are working our butts off and feeling totally stupid in Spanish.

We are now toying with the idea of moving into the "casona" at the school for our second week here because it is a gorgeous modern structure, beautifully sited with bella vistas, private bathrooms, HOT water, living rooms, comfortable furniture, a kitchen and a lavadora (washing machine.) However, we don't want to either hurt our hosts' feelings or cause any loss of income to them as the school pays them to house and feed us. Tune in next week to see what happens. The rooster crows at 4:00 a.m. and gets all the dogs barking.
We get up at 6:00 am, have desayuno at 6:30 and take a one-hour uphill walk past farms, animals, countryside and the quarry to get to school. On the way, we have to run from some very aggressive geese. There are "taxis", jeeps really, to take us up and down the mountain, but we like walking and I sure ain't dancing so I have to do something for the old body. At 8:00 a.m. we take a swim and stretch in their beautiful piscina, (pool)
 

Walk Pool

On the way to school

Swimming pool at school


then go to class from 8:30 until 10:30. Then we have a (second) breakfast and break, more class from 11:00 to 1:00, then lunch. Florita is my charming profesora and there are 3 other students in my class. I haven't been in school since 1967 (as a student) so it's quite a shock with homework every day. At least my Spanish accent probably sounds better than the folks' in the group here from Birmingham, Alabama (Buenaaas diaaas,y'all [us]tedes). Our teachers do not really speak English; only the director, who is an American expatriate, former peace corps worker, muy simpatico, does.
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Stephen:

I have a six months pregnant teacher name Lorena, who didn't show up on Wednesday. Ray and I were sure she was having her baby (he had been kicking pretty good on Tuesday), But no, she had just been to the doctor for a check-up. She brought in her Ultrosonidas. They were great. She was very proud. Not only will it be her first, but also her mother's first grandchild.

So I am limping along. Pronouncing things like French, having difficulty when the word has more than three syllables. I love the challenge and even though I cannot really construct a complete sentence without trial runs, I am learning Spanish. As I write this, a soccer game is playing on the TV in the next room and I am beginning to understand words and phrases. Not everything by any means, but a beginning. We still have another week.

We took a weekend. Friday night we went to Rancho Macho, which is the place on our walk to school where we have to watch out for the geese. It is also a bar/restaurant with a beautiful view of the valley. Macho in this case means mule. We found out that some of the Conversa "adults" were going there for dinner and dancing and we decided to join them. We stopped a cab and he being busy, radiod for another and we were there in about ten minutes. We found them finishing their meal.

Rancho Macho is the same place where the geese molest us every morning. It is farm where they exercise horses and there always a couple of pickup trucks around, but on Friday night it was a magical place with the lights of the valley stretching out before it. We drank beers and then a couple of tequila shots. The band was great. Thry played a somewhat soft Latin that was exceedingly fun to dance to. I danced with all the girls at my table and by the end we were all dancing together. We met Gata there. She was hanging out because she was waiting to pick up another student at the airport. All in black, wearing a tailored coat, she showed a different side of herself. We got ourselves home in a cab about one in the morning.

We got up early on Saturday to go to the optional tutorial but the cab never showed up because Gata forgot to arrange it. We are beginning to see the structure of the school and she is definitely the workhorse of the place in terms of making it run. We came back and hung out and began to really get to know our family. Another son, Mamfred, came by. He sells medical instruments. His English is quite good, so he spoke English and we spoke Spanish. Dawn spoke Spanish and I spoke something that was not English. We are beginning to have adult conversations. In short, we have decided not to move up the casone on campus. We have just gotten back from a night at one of the best hotels in San Jose and our need for luxurious surroundings has been satiated.

our patio Front Porch

Our Patio

Front deck of the Hotel


The Grano de Oro has 33 rooms. We were in the new part and it was beautifully designed with a private patio for our room, a Jacuzzi on the roof and a restaurant that was half inside, where we ate dinner and half outside where we had breakfast in a garden muy estupendo. It was small but its use of the walls that surrounded the garden was exquisite. The bed was great; the water was hot; the privacy was appreciated.

Occasionally we rode the city buses to get places. We were the only gringos on them. A polite gentleman tried to help us, but it took me quite a long time to communicate what I wanted to say. If you don't get the right accent, the word is not clear. So, I think we are beginning to establish the pattern we will follow for the rest of our trip which is to travel at ground level with occasional trips to the swanky level where everyone is a tourist.

Last night, we had about three hours of heart to heart with Jeanette about her family and her first husband and about the way the ticos still feel about the Spanish.

Family

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Dawn:

Today was our last day as students. It's amazing how much was packed into our heads in the last two weeks. I can actually speak, somewhat extemporaneously, in class now for 15 minutes solo! I have also started writing a cuento (tale) in Spanish that was inspired by our visit to the contemporary art museum with Stephen's teacher, Luis. There were many installations by Nicaraguan artists that were incredibly powerful. War has been a way of life for so many of these people and for so long. Every family in Nicaragua has lost a son or a father of a brother or a cousin. Luis is very simpatico and helped us see the art through the eyes of a Central American. He has worked with indigenous people in Guatemala and his girlfriend is from a Guatemalan refugee family that lives here in Costa Rica. He also knows a lot about pre-Columbian history and spirituality, which enriched our visit to the jade museum. All of our discussions were in Spanish, of course! I don't mean that the language just rolls off our tongues with fluidity; we still struggle to find the right tense, the agreement, etc. It's just that we are doing a hell of a lot better than we were two weeks ago!

Yesterday I tried to make a phone call on a public phone and didn't get through. Right after I lost my 10 colone coin and was cut off, the phone rang. I figured it was the operator, but it turned out to be a very fast-speaking woman who wanted me to get her husband who was selling fruit out of the red truck, parked near the church! I got as far as the red truck and the church, then chickened out and handed the phone to a native.

Today was, I hope, our last day visiting the city of San Jose. We went in to get our rental car and had a hell of a time getting to the big market at which Ruth and Ed (friends we will visit in Nosara) had asked us to buy some things. Between Stephen and me, we've been in a lot of cities in the world, from New York to Paris to the old Dubrovnik to Copenhagen to Amsterdam, Essen, Barcelona, Madrid, Rome, Florence, Tokyo, even Pittsburgh, White Plains, or Zarragoza, but we can't think of one city we would less like to live in than San Jose, Costa Rica! Sorry, folks, the Costa Rican people are warm and friendly, but their capital city is another story, except for the museums, the Teatro Nacional, and the oasis of the Hotel Grano de Oro.

So we have gotten our standard shift Toyota Tercel con aero condicionado and we're ready to be on our way. We're heading for the aerial tramway that goes quietly through the treetops in one of the rainforests. We're going to try to hit a B&B near it tomorrow night so we can get the 6:00 a.m. ride the next day to be in the "canopy" the with all the early morning songbirds.


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