Our family went to Costa Rica for two weeks in July of 1996. We stayed
in the home of Oscar and Ivanya Gonzales in Venecia, which is in the
foothills
on the Eastern Side of the mountains. Elevation is 428 meters. The
nearest
large city is San Carlos, also known as Ciudad Quesada.
Ivanya's father Omar still lives in Venecia. We made arrangements through his daughter Rosibel, who lives in our city. Oscar and Ivanya have also moved nearby to us in the States and are currently staying with a person who once rented their house in Venecia.
Arrival in San José was uneventful. After passing through customs we went up a long set of stairs. Our luggage was being pushed, single file, off a long conveyor belt. There were maybe a thousand people in the waiting area, maybe only half that many waiting at the end of the conveyor belt! Marcela, Omar's daughter who lives in the capital city, somehow found us and helped us get a taxi. We stayed at the Hotel Bouganvillea in Santo Domingo de Heredia, about a half hour ride from the airport. It was our first preview of the famous potholes of Costa Rica!
San José late at night can be delightfully cool and mosquito-free. Although the ride from the airport in was rather dismal, one feels that the industry surrounding the airport is generally cleaner and more highly developed that in most of the Latin American countries we had visited. Nothing like the ride in from Rio de Janeiro, for instance.
Since there was no refrigerator in the room the kids could not successfully clamor for an evening snack before going to bed. The next morning, Rocio and Mary went down to breakfast at about 7:30. At about 8:10 A.M. I nudged Carlos & asked if he was hungry. He nodded yes, and marched up to and opened the door, pajamas and all. After a Carlos clothing correction we went down to the hotel's restaurant and I had the first of many, many breakfasts of gallo pinto (black beans and rice)!
The trip to Venecia started with a visit to Toyota Car Rental. Check-in procedures could have been more pleasant. We documented about 31 mars, scratches, repainted places, and generally suspect spots on the cars, and tried everything in the car but the dome light (no, it didn't work!), and made a $1,400 deposit for our two week stay. We were warned to never leave the car unguarded, never to let anyone touch the car without calling the agency first, always lock the car, never leave valuables inside it, possibly never drive it, etc.
On our way out of the capital city of San Jose, Marcela navigated us through an amazing maze of obscure routes to the main highway. Somewhere along the way Hurricane Abigail(?) brought us torrential rain that continued for the entire trip to Venecia and into the next few days. We did stop along the way at a place that used to serve lunch but was now a bar. They had several hummingbird feeders outside, and there were dozens of the little creatures flitting between the feeders. The road was very twisty and turny, and steep in parts. Lots of peligro (danger) signs, reminders to turn and horseshoe curves.
The San Rafael waterfall was in best form, fed by the rains. There was
a small shrine with a life-sized statue of Jesus resting behind a
protected
iron grill. As we drove away, Carlos looked back and asked us who the
boy
in the cage was.
Marcela was able to categorize Rocí on the trip "siempre dá el segundo paso!" which, translated loosely, means that after she steps over the line she always takes another step!
The last few miles to Venecia, arriving from the East, were pure agony. We had the good luck of running into a road grader rebuilding a stretch of the highway just as we were arriving. Otherwise there may have been no road there at all! This construction work to the East of town was to continue during our entire two-week stay in Venecia.
When
we arrived, at last, we were a bit disappointed to find that the house
was on the Panamerican Highway on the East side of the mountains, and
that the
traffic
was constant. Lots of trucks, tractors, buses, pedestrians, people
walking
to work, carts, etc.
The house was immaculate and well-constructed. We were greeted by Oscar's three sisters, Berta, Viria, and Andrea, and father Rafael paused in his work on the neighboring coffee field to say hi.
It was here that we learned that the original person chosen to serve as our maid was not available due to complications with childbirth. Berta, who seemed above the role, volunteered rather than have either younger sister take care of us. More on that later.
Berta had one of the local delicacies ready for us, percivalle, which is the fruit from a particular variety of a local palm tree. It tasted a little like a combination of walnuts and borax, obviously an acquired taste. Quite nutritious, but definitely a new taste for us. We choked a couple down, and mumbled our appreciation.
Marcela then disappeared. Berta asked us a thousand questions while helping us get started. We were adjusting to the Costa Rican accent (pretty easy, actually), and wondering what we were going to do in that little berg for the next two weeks! Berta volunteered to do some shopping for us (tomorrow) on Sunday so that we could eat the next day. I dropped the lot of them off at Rafael's house and we were on our own. While I was gone, Mary managed to turn the ceiling ventilator fan on with a cabinet door open right next to it. The ventilator fan lost an arm in the process.
Things
started slowly. Berta was getting to know us. About the only neighbor
we
met that first week was Freddie, who had a plot of land just down the
road
from us. He took us on a tour of his little jungle, pointing out all
the
various properties of tropical plants. He showed us estopón
tree,
which is used as the source of lufa sponges. We tasted fresh cocoa
fruit (delicious) and
bananas.
He pulled up some yucca root. He gave us an 8-foot branch of sugar cane
to chop away on. He showed us some of the medicinal plants, some for
the
stomach, others for headache, others for the liver (that has always
fascinated
me!), another to wrap meat in that would preserve the meat. He was
growing
coriander and cabbage in another plot. Pepper plants apparently become
trees, eventually, in a warm climate. He had at least a half dozen
varieties
of those, as well.
Andrea and Viria showed up the next afternoon on their motorcycle with bicycle caps, glue, and wrenches. Miraculously, they were able to re-glue the fan arm, tighten everything up, and get the whole thing working again. One of our worst nightmares disappeared: being in the tropics without a fan!
As word got out that we both spoke Spanish, our social life began to improve. Damiana, whose husband had recently died, was an inspiration on how to raise a large family on virtually nothing and somehow remain cheerful. Helena, who had a couple of brothers living next door to us, was full of the local gossip and eager to fill us in on local happenings. Carlos Coto, recently retired as headmaster of the secondary school in Ciudad Quesada, had a rustic cabin on our street, and also provided local color. Some of the neighbors called Carlos a Communist. Berta and her family provided the intense socialization that Rocí thrives on.
At the end of the three-day cloudburst it became clear that it wasn't going to rain 24 hours a day. We planned our first trip, to the Arenal Volcano, one of the most active in the world. We had done a scouting trip, and found the Tilajari resort in nearby Muelle San Carlos attractive.
The Tilari resort
has several attractions.
It is owned by a former
Peace
Corps worker from Muskegon, Michigan. It has a spectacular view of
Arenal
volcano, close enough where we could see the puffs from the eruptions,
hear the booms and almost feel the ground shake. It also has a very
nice
pool, bar, and restaurant. In addition, it has a butterfly garden. This
is not to slight the resident toucans (3), macaw, and iguanas well over
6 feet long. A fair amount of hummingbirds and parakeets as well were
easily attracted by hanging fresh fruit from bamboo trees near the
restaurant..
The muddy San Carlos river ran alongside the resort. At about 80 meters
altitute, though, it was our first taste of the lowland tropics. The
air
conditioning worked well….There was a golf course, but 18
holes
in
that heat
would not be my idea of a vacation!
We wanted to see the Caño Negro wildlife preserve, in Los Chiles, near the Nicaraguan border. We almost turned back when passing through Muelle San Carlos with possibly the most impressive collection of fully developed potholes we had yet seen, plus an impressive level of squalor…
There were lLots of customs/border controls in Los Chiles. We had heard previously some tales about the general lawlessness just across the border on the other side.
We had read that we could arrange for a boat ride at Restaurante Parque. It was indeed true. Our trip in the covered boat was highlighted by a few interesting birds (mangrove swallow, moor hens, oropendulas, numerous kingfishers and flycatchers), a sloth, teeny tiny bats, howler monkeys, cranes and egrets. Rocí was able to get the monkeys excited, which was no news to us! On the way back we sped downriver, and the kids delighted in putting their hands in the wake while their parents screamed at them to stop leaning over the side of the boat.
The trip back to Tilajari was marred by the sudden realization by Carlos and Rocí that they could not go to the bathroom any time, any where, on zero notice. Bathroom conditions were even known to vary a bit during an emergency stop…
Back at the resort the swimming pool beckoned. I dedicated myself to round one of a really first class sunburn. The kids cavorted in the clean, cool water. We met Dale, a prominent lawyer from Atlanta, who was taking a quiet vacation in Costa Rica prior to the start of the Olympic games. He was gregarious, and much interested in Carlos and Rocí, since he was once head of a national association of international adoption attorneys.
The next morning we arranged for a trip to the butterfly tent. Humberto showed us some huge caterpillars. The largest was the buho, with owl eyes on the top sides of its wings, along with the monarch, yellow swallowtail, helicopter, and blue morpho. The resort raised 18 different kinds of butterflies and let some of them go to keep the local supply plentiful. One species even seemed territorial and would fly at us whenever we entered its little domain.
Back for more marinating in the pool. Carlos was taking his first halting attempts at swimming. He grew more confident as the day passed. My sunburn started to move from the first to the second degree.
That night, to the incredible,
high-pitched whining of the family, I
forced them into the car for a drive to the foothills of Arenal Volcano
in
the hopes of seeing some lava action. We were well-rewarded. As we
approached
we saw a lava flow several hundred yards long. Once could see the
little
flashes as trees ignited. While looking through the binoculars, we saw
about three spraying eruptions from the cone on top. I graciously
accepted
the apologies of the family members, one at a time! This picture is not
what we saw, but it an example of what Arenal had done in the recent
past… 
A trip around the back side of the volcano the next day took us past many hot springs, some expensive (Tabacón, $15/person), some free. The air was redolent with sulphur. Coming around the back side of the volcano, on the dam side of Lake Arenal, we were able to see hundreds of small fumaroles, enough to nearly create a cloud cover over the mountain. Lake Arenal, a most unlikely spot, is famous as a base for wind surfing, since there is a fairly constant 20 mph wind present.
We were headed toward some
botanical gardens. The road, and
vegetation,
became more and more primitive with each mile. We passed Swiss and
German
hostelries. Finally, after crossing what looked like a small lake, we
came
to the gardens, which were closed. So much for the guide books. Not
that
I blame the owners, anybody traveling that road to get to the gardens
on
a Sunday had to be half crazy anyway!
Back in Venecia our neighbor, Helena, showed us the swimming hole just down the road. It was a pool in a swiftly flowing river, a flat spot between rapids. About 8 feet deep on the inside of the curve. Really very nice. The only obstacle was the passage down to the river the passed near a dog who looked like it could bring down Hulk Hogan if it ever got loose!
Time for another volcano trip,
this one to Poás. We passed
through
mile after mile of 
strawberry
fields under netting on the way there. Climbing ever higher we finally
reached the park. At 2300 meters, if was cool. The park was
well-organized
and neat as a pin. It is the most-visited park in Costa Rica. About a
half-mile
walk to a view of the crater, 900 feet deep. The sulfurous lake at the
bottom was light green in color. The area near the crater looked like a
closeup of the moon.
Mary and Carlos turned back and headed for the snack bar. Rocí and I took the hike to the alpine lake up a steep trail. It was about a mile. The cloud forest was beautiful, even if we did have to huff and puff our way to the lake and back.
On the way back home we hunted down a highly praised Italian restaurant, Restaurante las fresas. When we arrived, we were the paying only customers there.The flies ate free. The pizza there was excellent, with a paper-thin crust. I had a steak with mushrooms, served in a thick creamy sauce. Mary had spinach ravioli, also good.
On the way back to Venecia we bought tons of avocados, plums and strawberries. The strawberries were jelly by the time we bounced our way home, but they were good while they were lasted.
While we were gone, Berta had talked to a local entrepreneur about showing us his planned resort, los guacamayos. When we returned from the Tilajari resort he was waiting for us. He took me over to see his place, which he had been working on for five years. He had recently completed his clubhouse, done in the grass-covered roof motif, with a tiled floor and tables with stool seats. He had planted an orchard. He had a pond filled with tilapia (tile fish). He had a feral cat penned up, a caucel. There was a macaw in the back yard. Since guacamayo in Spanish means macaw obviously room would be made for more. He had a pet squirrel. He was planning to build 12 cabins to lure some tourists to Venecia. He had dug a hole for the swimming pool. A retired bank official, he was nearing the point where he could open the place. I promised to take the family over the next day. The tame squirrel was a big hit with the kids..
Berta's husband, Carlos, worked for his father, who owned a milk plant. He worked from 3 A.M to 5 P.M every day. We met him once when he came home for lunch.
Berta arranged for grandpa to give the children horse rides in the covered dirt arena he used to train the horses. A real patrician, he patiently gave Rocí, Carlos, and every kid in the family a chance to ride. Afterwards we watched as he had the horse prance sideways for about 30 feet, not an easy task. Omar Herrera , owner of the house where we were staying, spotted us when we went back to the house, and stopped by to introduce himself.
Rafael was starting the first
of his coffee harvests. Helena stopped
by to let us know. 
Rocí and I went over to watch. While Rafael, family,
Damiana,
and
friends were harvesting the coffee beans the bugs feasted on tender,
juicy
North American flesh so recently arrived. It was fun for a short while
to pick out the red coffee beans, but it is very hard work in those
fields in
that heat and humidity.
Carlos bumped up against the bathroom sink, and it fell off the wall! Much consternation. First we break the fan, now the sink! Let's see, what can we break next?
We had been hearing about some caves nearby with petroglyphs. After asking around, we finally were able to locate the place, largely aided by one of Berta's daughters, Juliana, who had been there several years ago when she was a small child! It was one long, steep walk down to the river. Much to our surprise, there was a beautiful tropical park at the bottom of the ravine, nicely kept. There was an impressive collection of local snakes hanging from cages, which was both interesting and unsettling.
Omar
Herrera introduced us to his family, and then took us on a tour of the
area surrounding Venecia. We passed by a huge pineapple plant which
employs
perhaps a majority of the local residents. Then we went to Ciudad
Cutris,
an archeological site at least a thousand years old that has never been
formally excavated. There were "roads" that consisted of borders
at least 8 feet high on each side of 25-foot wide ditches that ran for
miles in at least 5 directions, a major accomplishment given the
volcanic
soil in the area. The town must have held thousands of people since
the
area covered in the ruins stretched out for miles. There were rock
fences
with vestigial guard towers spiraling out from the main
settlement.
Next, we went to what Omar called primary forest. It looked like something out of a Tarzan movie and the biting beasties were incredible. I still say I experienced a mosquito in there the size of a hummingbird. We found a sample of pure white rubber sap from a hule tree. Omar picked up a tiny red and blue frog which is highly poisonous if it gets excited and secretes its toxin. He grabbed a handful of leaves and then picked it up and put it in his pocket. He showed us a fruit pod that had a barbed outside used by the monkeys to comb their hair.
We went over to his sister's (Gloria) house to see the tilapia ponds they had set up as a commercial fishery. Catch your own, $4/pound. Omar disappeared looking for lombriza (earthworms) for 20 minutes or so. Not so easy in volcanic soil. In the end, none of our family were expert enough to keep one of the fish hooked. Gloria's husband brought over a net and dragged the bottom. That worked much better.
It was approaching 2:30. We had not had lunch. We dropped Rocí off for her play date arranged with Berta's kids. Carlos, Omar, Mary, and I went to lunch at la Kasita, the local one star restaurant. Omar told us a little about his past. He came by horseback to Venecia with his family when he was a small child. The family was from Nicaragua, and his father had purchased a finca (farm). They caught yellow fever from the adjacent monkeys, and he was the only child to survive. He now has cattle herds that serve 8 local dairies. He's been to Madison. The children often return home for Christmas.
Back to rescue Berta from Rocí. Some of Berta's in-laws were sitting around the porch. Mary struck up a conversation with one of them, who had lived in New Jersey for four years. What did she like about the United States? The money, the job, the car, the shopping malls. The rest you could keep!
Time to start the long trip
home. There were fond farewells from all
of Oscar's
family. They gave us a toy truck for Carlos and a hair berette for
Rocí.
At one point the road (Costa Rica 1) was washed out, causing a terrible traffic jam. Finally they shoved enough earth in the open crevice to allow traffic to pass over the newly created ravine. It was like crossing over a bowl full of mud-colored jelly.
Sarchi and Grecia were both nice towns, full of Sunday traffic from San José. We bought most of our souvenirs in a nice cooperative tourist shop in Sarchi.
We found a barbecue restaurant on the way in to San José, huge, with big-screen TVs watching the national soccer championship rounds. It had a stuffed pig at the entrance, at least four feet long and maybe three feet high. We even located the Hotel Bouganvillea without too many false starts, followed by more afternoon marinating in the swimming pool.
It was suggested we get to the airport at 5:30 A.M. This was a little unsettling after we found out that the airport didn't open until 6:00! We were eventually three and a half hours late out of the airport while they patched the potholes in the runway. There were no announcements concerning the delay. Roci struck up a conversation with the pilot, who had been forced to land in Panama City the night before due to these same potholes!
Another huge mess in Houston
was bcaused by the aftereffects of
Hurricane
Berta on the East Coast. After some artful negotiating by Mary, we get
thrown out of our rightful seats on our Chicago-bound plane, which was
overbooked. We were told that the stewardess had checked, and that we
are
supposed to be on the next flight. The seat assignments were in error.
The second set of assignments were correct, not ours. Get up and get
off.
After returning to the airport we sauntered over to the next gate. We ask about our reservations on the next flight. What reservations, we had seats on the previous flight, not this one! We go ballistic. The kids have long since crossed that line. Somehow they find us seats. In the meantime the plane breaks down & they don't know if they have a replacement.
After about three hours of this we give up & book a flight home the next morning. We get a hotel in Houston, and order Texas Takeout, which consists of about 3 pounds of food per person, maybe 2 if you don't count the grease.
In Chicago, we misread the bus schedule and miss the first bus back home. Not to worry, there is another one in three hours! Tired, cranky, exhausted, we spend the rest of the day at home recuperating, admiring the new batch of mosquitoes that had hatched in Madison while we were in Costa Rica. They seem pretty wimpy by comparison. Not even worth a good swat, really…Only one version, nocturnal.