Larry's Central American Travels

An Unforgettable Character

 

I posted this article about my 'new' adventures five years ago, just shortly after I had come down to Costa Rica. I had forgotten this article until a reader sent me an email last week referencing it. I realized when I went back and read it that I had kind of a 'wide-eyed' fascination with my new surroundings back then. But it also struck me that not much has changed in five years. I thought you would enjoy the re-telling.

 

A Sampling From My 'Unforgettable Characters' Inventory

April 30, 2007 

I have been here long enough now to begin to appreciate the magnitude of unforgettable characters I'm surrounded by in Golfito. I guess I shouldn't have been to surprised, let's face it the American expatriate who settles here is not your normal 'breed of cat'. But, as I get to know people better and we start trading stories (and person A starts trading stories about Person B – Didn't you know about the time Ed went out and ..........?), the stories and situations are varied and, sometimes border on the unreal – no - some border on the surreal.

Let's start with Ron Kalman. In an earlier life, Ron traveled a couple of north eastern states in the U. S. as a provisions supplier for school cafeterias. Due to a variety of circumstances ( I didn't press for details), he ended up in Golfito, divorced and starting over. Initially he supported himself (and rather nicely) as a gold prospector – Huh? [This is Ron, on left talking to my Aussie friend, Brad} Yes, 1800s gold rush prospector thing, except the prospecting involved tramping around in the jungles and rain forests of Costa Rica (more on that subject later). He subsequently married a Costa Rican woman and really started over.

In the early 1970s, he purchased his place on 'The Island'. When you sit in the marinas on the bay in Golfito, The Island sets about ¾ mile directly across the bay, and Ron's place is staring right at you. (ironically Gringo logic says that The Island must have a name, but no one knows what it is - so, it is just The Island. Kind of like the highway that runs through town – it is The Highway). Over the next few years, he methodically cleared back the underbrush adjoining his cove to provide for a home site.

About 30 yards behind the house, the rain forest begins and rises sharply to the top [on left, view of the casa from the beach] of the mountain, which than curves clam-shell like around his property back down to the beach. A number of years ago the Costa Rican government's instituted strict new environmental laws that banned clearing of rain forest – type land. So, the tract of land that he had already cleared for his home - that was it – the rest of the property will remain rain forest. So, the bad news is that the present area of his home site (approximately 10 acres of the 200+ acres total) is frozen. However, the good news is that the land adjacent to his property, and most of the rest of the other half of the island [on right, Golfito seen from the front porch]behind him will undoubtedly remain uninhabited, has no commercial or residential value – it can't be cleared so it can't be built on!

Ron made a nice living for about 6-7 years harvesting the coco beans from the trees in his yard and the adjoining rain forest (Did you know chocolate grew on trees? I did not). Then a blight of some kind hit this part of Costa Rica and not only killed the existing coco crop, but rendered the trees sterile, evidently, forever. Not to be dissuaded, Ron then turned to harvesting the fruit of the vanilla trees growing wild in the forest. Though it is on a much smaller scale than his earlier coco operation, he still harvest the vanilla beans to this day.

Ron also got into raising chickens on his place - at one time his flock exceeded 350 chickens. Every day he would load up his boat with dressed chickens and plats of eggs, and steam off across the harbor to Golfito and supply his accounts of restaurants and stores. He was doing quite well at this venture, and then, another crises. The big egg conglomerate in San Jose bought the only chicken feed supplier in Costa Rica. Then, immediately sharply reduced the price of their eggs while simultaneously sharply increasing the price of feed (Wonder why they did that?). Today, he keeps about 100 chickens, producing just enough eggs and fryers for personal use and for friends.

But, Ron's 'real thing' has been, and still is gold. A few years ago he decided the prospecting part of the business was not for him any longer. He felt he was getting too old (he is now 67) for the rigors involved in surviving in the rain forest, occasionally for weeks at a time. For several years after he quit prospecting, he would pack up and traipse back into the forest and find the prospectors and buy their gold on the spot. Now he just lets the prospectors bring the gold to him. He decided even that going into the forest was getting too dangerous – carrying large amounts of cash and/or gold and dealing with people he didn't always know. Plus, as he put it, “A lot of the younger generation prospectors didn't know me by reputation. So they might not know that the pistol I laid on the negotiations table was not just for show. The older fellows knew better.”

What does he do with the gold? Gold nugget jewelry! I am no jewelry expert, but I know stunning.

 But First

A quick primer on gold – something that I had no knowledge of previously. For those of you that already know this subject, indulge my naivety a couple minutes, and skip on down below.

• Costa Rican gold is some of the purest in the world and is sought after for its subtle color and beauty.

• Much of Costa Rica gold is in nugget form (only about 2% of all the gold extracted throughout the world is in nugget form. Most is in chip and dust form and is then combined with an alloy to produce what we refer to generically as gold.)

• A carat is equal to 1/24^th parts. Thus, a 14K rating = 14 parts gold and 10 parts alloy. The nuggets in Ron's jewelry average 22 to 23K.

• To truly appreciate the rarity of gold, it is estimated that if all the pure gold in existence were combined in one cube, the resultant cube would only be about 50 cubic meters.

Ron and his son are goldsmiths and their company, Aragon Designs, SA, produces an amazing, though small inventory. A man's ring - 14K gold band (the U. S. standard for gold bands is 10K) with 6 or 7 small gold nuggets inset and affixed with gold solder. A gold heart-shaped 14K necklace with nuggets inset on the face of it. A crucifix necklace of similar construction. Necklaces with matching earrings. How about a necklace that the bauble is a small clear cylinder filled with gold flakes. STUNNING STUFF. I am bringing several pieces back with me in May. I want to get a U.S jeweler to appraise them with the idea of selling them on Ebay, on one of my growing list of web sites, or both.

Meanwhile, back at Ron's spread. It is definitely an idyllic place, his little chunk of heaven.  They have all the creature comforts – running water, cell phone, satellite TV, and electric power (solar panel with generator back-up). And the sea breeze and the proximity of the forest keeps the insect away (the mosquitoes, flies, etc. prefer the forest (the house doesn't even have windows – just openings) But, it is not for everybody. For starters everything comes to the house by boat - groceries, supplies, new furniture - everything. Ron's daughter, Samantha and her son live with Ron and she makes the daily round trip to take him to school in Golfito (just as she and her siblings did when they were growing up here on The Island). A trip to the store involves a round trip boat ride and a trek from the beach up to the house. No small feat even at high tide. But at low tide, you have to park the boat down the beach, so add a journey across the beach to the trek up the hill       [as seen on right]

 

Samantha told me a story that kind of puts what I am saying in perspective. As she recounted to me, [left, Meet Samantha] “About five years ago, my Dad's workers came down the path with a hugh Boa Constrictor they had killed strung across their shoulders to show my Dad. It took the three of them to carry it. My Dad gave them hell. He said that the Boa was not poisonous and , although it was big, it was not big enough to bother them because a boa is smart. It will not tackle anything that is too big for them to eat. He told them that we only kill the poisonous snakes.” Then she adds, “About two months later I went in the kitchen and opened the cabinet under the sink and there was a little boa in the cabinet. He was only about 3 feet long.”

I am trying to keep a poker face during this discussion as if Boas in the kitchen is something we hear all the time in NC. She continued, “I asked my Dad what to do. He said to just leave it alone, he'll take carry of those little jungle rats you have been complaining about.”

She explained to me that she thinks what they call a 'jungle rat' is actually not a rat but some breed of mouse, similar to the field mice in the U.S. They get in the house from time to time and they are hard to get rid of and make a mess.

“So, for a couple of months I just worked around the boa,” she added. “But he stayed pretty much to the kitchen. One time he camped out on one of the counter tops for about three days, but My Dad said just use the other counter top over there. That was kind of inconvenient because we don't have that much counter top,” she added with a shrug.

By now I am waiting for Alllen Funt or someone to jump out and holler at me that I have been 'punked'. But then, Samantha put the topping on the cake when she concluded with, “ So after about 2 months I noticed that I hadn't seen a jungle rat, or any left-behind evidence of them for a couple of days. And 3 days later, the boa was gone. We have never seen him again.” Pura Vida!

 

By the way, I spent over 15 years designing kitchens. Over the years I have accommodated (design wise) some pretty off-the-wall, out-of-left field requirements that had to be included in the new kitchen's layout. A place for the dog or cat was not uncommon. Twice a place for the bird cage was included (he gets lonely in the other room). And a parrot roost once. But, I can honestly say that I was never, ever tasked with designing or providing for Boa storage!

 

 

So until next time when I'll pass on some more of The Strange Goings-on In Golfito

Think it will rain?

The walk from the docks up to the Banana Bay Marina

From the dining room of Rancho Grande

View from the gravel road leading to Playa Cacao

A DAY ON THE BAY IN GOFITO, COSTA RICA

[For those of you who may not know, the full size version of the thunbnail photos embedded in the text of these posting can be viewed by 'clicking on the thumbnail]

We Are Not Sitting By The Dock of The Bay

A good friend down here in Golfito is a professional sports fishing guide. Bob Sullivan, the proprietor of Pacific Teaser Sports Fishing, operates his boat, the Miss Lena out of the Samoa Marina here in Golfito. Captain. Bob, as he's known, is a colorful character who has been a professional fisherman for 20+ years both in Costa Rica, and in Florida. In fact he grew up on the water in southern Florida. The 'colorful' reference to Capt. Bob will have to be a separate story in some later posting on this blog – it is an entire story in itself.

At any rate, the fishing charter business had slowed down a little bit from the hectic winter schedule and Capt. Bob was itching to do some personal fishing of his own. So he encouraged several of us to go with him on Sunday – it didn't take much urging I might add. So we agreed to meet at 6:30 AM dependent only on Capt. Bob's early-morning evaluation of the weather out in the fishing grounds.

My friends Mattie, Suanny and I met up early on Sunday morning though not at the scheduled time due to a variety of logistics problems. But, no problem – Capt. Bob was MIA. The weather didn't look bad, but Capt. Bob may have checked his sources and found otherwise, we speculated. Nope, turns out he had some crises of his own – bait, gas, a missing 1^st mate, etc., all compounded by hangovers from the Saturday night shindig. Oh well, since there were no paying customers an 8AM departure worked just as well – ah, Tico time (Pura Vida).

Our quick crossing of what is referred to as the inner bay, technically a gulf (Golfito means Sweet Gulf) was beautiful. Not only am I still awestruck by the beauty of the gulf, particularly in the quiet of the morning – the water was like glass. Smooth sailing on the Sweet Gulf. And when we reached the waters of the outer bay, there was still no chop – water like glass. The day was now starting to go our way.

A few minutes later as we passed the tip of the Osa Peninsula at Matapalo and struck out into the waters of the Pacific. well it was still like glass – the ocean was like glass! Enjoy it while you can, sooner or later the seas are going to pick up we were told. (It never did - all day. And, I don't know about you, but I can do without the rockin'-n-rollin' associated with the open sea and small boats. Capt. Bob said it was the calmest day he had ever seen out here. Wow!)

We now settled down for the 30 minute run to the fishing grounds were we would hit 'blue water', e.g., deep water. We hadn't gone 10 minutes, when I said, “Is that a shark over there?” “No,” answer Bob, as he turned sharply toward the visible fin 100 yards or so off to our starboard side (You belief that? A nautical term from the Kansas hick. Ha!) “Dolphins,” he added. As we got closer we could see it was a school of them (or herd, pride, group, whatever. So much for the nautical lingo, huh?), at least 20 of them. As we got closer, Bob turned on a parallel track with them about 20 yards away so as not to spook them. So they joined us, moved right up next to us. A couple of them got so close to the boat you could almost touch them. After a few minutes they disappeared as quickly as they appeared. What a sight! It's hard to explain the excitement seeing them in person generates, even exciting to the 'old salts', Capt. Bob was grining ear-to-ear. "Going to be a goooood day," he chuckled.

A few minutes later we saw another group off to the port side. As they got closer someone said, “You suppose that's the same ones?” Just about the time I was thinking, Can't be. We are doing about 35 knots. Bob looked as his instruments and said, “Could be. I've clocked them up about 40 knots before." Shows what I know. Guess I better stick to trying to keep starboard and port straight!

(For those of you familiar with fishing for sailfish, you can skip the next paragraph. But, this was all a new experience for me.)

When we got to the blue water, Bob rigged up the teasers on the outriggers so that they skipped across the surface about 25 feet behind us in the wake of the boat, and the baited hooks down the center about 20 yards back, and we were off. The teasers are big colorful lures whose purpose is to draw the fish up from the 200-300 foot depth where they hang out. Teasers resemble what we fresh water fishermen call jigs – a solid head trailing a skirt. However, teasers are bright colors, about 2 feet long and no hook. When the fish comes after the teasers, you pull it out of their mouth (the reason there's no hook), and get it out of the water, so the fish (while in 'the neighborhood) has 'to settle' for the baited hooks. So much for Sail Fishing 101.

To spare you the suspense, we spent several hours trolling around, got two big critters to come up and swipe at the teaser (what a sight), but no strikes. And no strikes = no fish. But, nobody cared -even Bob. Great day.           (This is me playing El Captain. Ha!)

As we were coming back saw two big sea turtles, and then – the Big Wow! Somebody said, “More dolphins.” But instead of blasting over to them, Bob turned real easy and throttled back. He said, “Oh my God, get your cameras ready. Those are pilot whales. This is Discovery Channel (expletive deleted)! All my life on the water and I have only seen this 2 or 3 times. And never this big a herd. There must be 8 or 10 of them! I have to ease up and let their curiosity get them to us.”

When we got fairly close they leisurely dove out of sight as a group. Bob said, “Don't worry they will surface again. Number 1, they are air breathers, and 2, they are curious.” Sure enough, first one, then another then several more. Their head comes out of the water and they snort and loll around a little, then dive again. Bob had cut the engine and we were just drifting. Another boat showed up on the other side of them and did the same. Each time they surfaced, they were a little closer to us.

About the 3^rd time they surfaced, the whole herd just cavorted around on the surface. We counted 14 of them. The bull was huge - must have been 35 feet long. The calf, who mimicked mamma's every move, was only about 3 feet long. Then, they all came to the surface with just their heads out of the water, turned towards us and just stared at us. Yes, as if choreographed and on cue, all of them hung suspended - motionless in the water, and just stared! Bob muttered, “Do you realize that every professional wild life photographer in the world would give his eye teeth for this experience?” (er, or words to that effect, Told you he was colorful).

For the next few minutes, the whales played their dive-resurface dance easing towards the other boat. And then they were gone, just as suddenly as they appeared. Bob cranked up the engines, and said, “Better get going or it is going to be dark before we get back.”

                           The rest of the trip was uneventful. Well, uneventful if you discount another Costa Rican sunset as viewed from the water.

And, then there is the wondrous views of the Golfito Harbor in fast closing darkness.

We came back hot and parched from the sun, plus out of beer, cigarettes, sun tan lotion and energy. Exhausted after a day of adrenalin rushes! No shoes, No shirts, No fish, but No problemo. Pura vida!

Next time: A Day With the Gold Prospector at His Place on The Island. I am also going to Panama next week. I promise or I'll quit taking about it

BEACH ADVENTURE - COSTA RICA STYLE!

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Reflections On An Isolated Beach in Costa Rica

We are leaving the comfort of the terrace at the Mary Luna Marina in Golfito, Costa Rica after a pleasant lunch and we are going back out into the bay. I've spent this Saturday morning on the boat cruising the bay with my friends Brad and Suanny (The proprietors of Pacific Tides Realty here in Golfito). In the morning the bay cruising was gorgeous! The tides were just right and there was no wind, resulting in water in and around the bay that was like glass. We could slip into small coves, and then 'park' without even throwing out an anchor. And the still water provided water vistas that were astounding. In 20 feet of water, you could count the rocks on the bottom, and view the lava formations and the sea life in a fascinating scene glowing with a luminescent blue/green shimmer.

Brad and Suanny had both taken a dip a time or two in our morning venture. I was more than content to 'guard the boat' and hide under the canopy out of the increasingly insistent broiling sun. Brad had also done some snorkeling in one of the coves and had seen several nice red snappers, so about lunch time we did the 15 minute run back to Golfito to get his spear gun, and while we were in the neighborhood – lunch at The Mary Luna. A halibut steak (SO fresh, I expected it to 'flip' on the plate), a snapper sandwich, a little cervice, a little cold Chablis (well, probably not 'a little'). Oh my- perfect! And now, we are off again.

I thought about it all through lunch, and the closer we got to that long, seemingly endless isolated beach that we passed in the morning en route to the 'snapper hole', I said to myself, Why not? So, I suggested, “Why don't you guys drop me off here on the beach and let me do some beach combing while you are snorkeling?” Brad eased the boat up close and I stepped over the side into the knee-high warm water and then waded the last 10 feet or so onto the beach.

I begin walking up a beach that is probably 30-40 yards deep (from water to where the rain forest starts), and runs in both directions at least a ½ mile before it curves out of sight. After I have walked about a hundred yards, I suddenly think, Walking for what? The 100 yards ahead looks like a carbon copy of the 100 yards behind. So about the time the boat disappears from sight, I find a grassy spot underneath a tree on the edge of the forest. As I get comfortable, the first thing I think of is, What's the difference between a rain forest and a jungle? They sure look the same, at least to the un-educated eye. Note to self – look it up. [I'm still not sure. Still on my list! Maybe, manna?]

As I search the horizon, I am struck by the fact that there is not a single sign of human existence. There are no boats to be seen in any direction, and no planes overhead. And, there are no houses, not even smoke from cooking fires of unseen dwellings. There is not even a clearing in the forest or on the beach on the body of land about a mile across from me - for that matter, on the land masses that I can see far off in the distance to my left and right. None!

As I continue to survey my surroundings, I am struck yet again. There is nothing in sight that is moving! There is no wind and the tide is neutral this time of day. As a result, there is no surf so the water looks like glass, and there is no sway to the foliage in the forest. And, there are evidently no winds aloft either because the tall cumulus clouds in all directions are absolutely motionless. I feel that I am part of a hugh panoramic still photo of some kind. Amazing! I must be staring slack-jawed, and, this phenomena goes on minute after minute, unchanged. Am I in an Ansell Adams still life?

And then, the silence strikes me. Now that Brad's boat is out of earshot, there is silence – total silence! The cacophony of sounds that bombards the auditory senses in Golfito, endlessly and at high volume levels, is erased, totally eradicated! As I take in the silence, my wacky mind goes to work and interjects a thought. What guy was such a good salesman that he convinced the management of Safeway, Food Lion, Giant Foods, et. al., (all of whom supposedly operate on close profit margins) that they needed to spend the money to pipe Muzak into their stores? Attention Shoppers - elevator music to the bread aisle, please. Oh, well, the many wonders of........

About that time I think, I wish I had brought my book (I have re-discovered reading), then I reject that idea as virtually a sacrilege. Reading a book would be a distraction. The John Grisham novel I'm reading has been on hold for several years, it will wait. I wonder if this experience qualifies as sensory deprivation? If so, I'll take some more!

And then I realize that it is not really silent here, it is just quiet – very quiet! The water is in fact lapping on the beach making a barely audible hissing sound – I have to strain to hear it. Did that sound just start or is my volume level just readjusting? And then I hear the song of a Tucan, the Costa Rican national bird. I listen hard, holding my breath. Yes, there it is again. And then another – this one closer. And yet another. I listen intently, and now there are several. Yes, if you listen hard they do sound different from one another. Is it there distance from me that causes a difference in sound. Or is it the bird's age, or size, or gender? That one is so close it startles me – and then another. Did the noise of the boat or my stomping around on their turf induce a silence, or is it just chorus practice time? Well they are really cranked up now! Wish I'd brought a tape recorder – you can't adequately describe this! I turn real slow and squint into the forest hoping to be able to see the ones that sound so close. No luck, so just shut up and listen, I think. The Mormon Tabernacle Tucan Choir. Ha!

“My God, what was that,” I actually say out loud. I almost jump out of my skin at that noise. Then I remember the – I have heard about the Howler Monkey. Little devils are very big at all, but they let out a howl that sounds more like a bear than a monkey (though guess I am speculating somewhat about what a bear sounds like). How's that for a contrast. Maybe, the howler is a baptist and doesn't fully appreciate The Mormon Tabernacle Tucan Choir? Whatever, it is pretty obvious, the toucans pay him (her?) no mind, they hardly miss a lick.

I decide I will test my theory about whether I am an intrusion and slowly stand and turn around. The chorus continues but, I still can't see either of the two or three birds that sound like they are right above me in the trees. So, I ease a little to my right, and then, some more. The foliage is so thick, I can't spot them. As I move down some more and there is a break in the jungle (er, forest). I am looking at a small clearing maybe 20 yards square just inside the tree line. My thoughts of walking in, are fleeting as I quickly reconsider - me in shower clogs and swim trunks stomping around in knee high grass in the land of the deadly fer-de-lance, coral snake and the bushmaster. And I smile as I think of the general aversion I have developed in the last few years. To wit, I do not want to die in some off-the-wall crazy manner. In a manner that would prompt those who know me to shrug, go “tsk ..tsk”, and comment something to the effect of “that figures.”

I return to my spot and get comfortable. My mind starts whirring. I think, If I were to walk from Point A to Point B in that clearing, would I be the first person to have ever traveled that path? Maybe even the first to traverse that entire patch of land? Oh, that is absurd! Or, is it? This part of the peninsula is uninhabited for miles. This isolated beach runs for miles. And if someone in the past had beached right here at this very spot, they would walk back there for what? Interesting thoughts - and I hadn't had that much wine at lunch.

I have been here I would guess about 45 minutes, I didn't wear my watch. The wind has picked up slightly, so my living still-life panoramic portrait is now a slow-motion montage. The clouds move and reform almost imperceptible, there are a few breakers on the bay and some of the trees and foliage sway slightly in the breeze. But I have still not seen or heard a boat, plane, etc. And now my imagination really kicks in. Kicks in Robinson Crusoe-ish. If something horrible should happen to my friends while they are scuba diving around the corner, would there be any reason for anyone to be looking for me, much less away several miles away over on this deserted beach? In the next few days, would the people on a passing boat just wave back? Is this the route the Sanza flights from San Jose takes on let-down into Golfito. If I spelled out 'HELP' in the beach sand, would anyone see it? I would probably mis-spell it. Ha!

I can now hear a boat coming and it appears to be Brad and Suanny off on the horizon. If I hid behind a tree would they panic? Better, not press my luck – what if they didn't bother to stop and look? Ha! As if on cue, there are two additional boats coming from off in the distance, one from each direction. As Brad works the boat up close to shore, Suanny is standing in the bow, smiling, holding a cold beer. “Here, this will hold you till we get back to the Mary Luna”, she chuckles. It turns out, the 'snapper cove' was barren when they got back to it. “Anything interesting on the beach?” Brad asks. As I respond my, “No just chilled out,'” is drowned out by the afternoon Sanza flight passing overhead.

LAZY DAYS IN GOLFITO, COSTA RICA

The First Arrivals in Costa Rica

I found this in my research in a History of Costa Rica document;

When Columbus anchored his storm-damaged vessel in the Bay of Cariari on his fourth voyage to the New World, he was welcomed and treated with great hospitality. The coastal Indians sent out two girls, "the one about eight, the other about 14 years of age," Columbus's son Ferdinand recorded. "The girls . . . always looked cheerful and modest. So the Admiral gave them good usage. . ."

In his Lettera Rarissima to the Spanish king, Columbus gave a different tale of events: "As soon as I got there they sent right out two girls, all dressed up; the elder was hardly eleven, the other seven, both behaving with such lack of modesty as to be no better than whores. As soon as they arrived, I gave orders that they be presented with some of our trading truck and sent them directly ashore."

The Indians also gave Columbus gold. "I saw more signs of gold in the first two days than I saw in Española during four years," his journal records. He called the region La Huerta ("The Garden"). The prospect of loot drew adventurers whose numbers were reinforced after Balboa's discovery of the Pacific in 1513. To these explorers the name Costa Rica must have seemed a cruel hoax. Floods, swamps, and tropical diseases stalked them in the sweltering lowlands. Fierce, elusive Indians harassed them maddeningly. And, with few exceptions, there was no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow

There was recently a big national furor here in Costa Rica. It seems the Minister of Immigration reported to his superiors that a Chinese consortium of some kind had offered him a multi-million dollar bribe to 'ease' some immigration requirements for people coming from China. The consortium was evidently in the 'slave trade' business – importing (for a big fee) Chinese to be domestics, laborers, and (obviously) worse. Why would a Cabinet Minister of the government turning down a bribe be big news, such that he became a national hero of sorts? Well, consider;

1. Rafael Angel Calderón Fournier, President of Costa Rica from 1990-1994 is now in jail.  He is being investigated for possibly accepting payments from the French company Alcatel that was awarded a large cellular phone contract here in Costa Rica.

2. Miguel Ángel Rodríguez Echeverría, President of Costa Rica from 1998-2002 is also in jail on the same charges.

3. José María Figueres, President of Costa Rica from 1994-1998 is in Switzerland and has thus far refused to return to Costa Rica to answer questions from the prosecutor in the above two cases or about the "consulting fee” of over $900,000 he admits receiving from Alcatel for the same cellular phone contract.

More Costa Rica Random Musing

• The little Soda down the street (Soda roughly translates to Snack Bar) has a wonderful fruit plate for breakfast. It features fresh mango, papaya, water melon, cantaloupe, pineapple, montzana aqua (water apple), and (when in season) mamones (a red, golf-ball sized fruit whose interior tastes like a sweet gelatin). Did I say fresh? Well, when I order it (I am usually there about the time they open), the waitress goes across the street to the market and returns in a few minutes with the fruit in a shopping bag. The fruit is so ripe and fresh that you can smell it as she comes back in the restaurant.

• Here in Golfito it is extremely hard, if not impossible, to find reading material – reading material in English that is. No books or magazines, and the English newspaper is a weekly. Really tough ironically for someone who has for years started their day with coffee and the morning paper (sometimes two). Equally ironically is that, for probably 30 years, everyplace I have been I have jokingly referred to my favorite hangout (pub) as 'The Library' – as in, “Be back in a few minutes, I'm going by the library”, or “Meet you at the Library”. Well guess what? The bars that cater to Gringos have a loaner library. I've read three of John Grisham's novels in the last ten days. Ha!

• How different is it here? Yesterday morning I was in the office (I work out of the offices of my new friends, Suanny and Brad, the proprietors of Pacific Tides Realty. They provide me with office space and internet access in exchange for some assistance on my part with their internet and computer needs). Suanny was suddenly upset with what was going on across the street. Directly across the street is a shallow vacant lot and behind that is the soccer field which also doubles as the school play ground. There were about 7-8 young men (late teens, early 20s) gathered on the edge of the soccer field who were blatantly passing around a zip-lock freezer-sized bag of pot. So Suanny decides to call the police. Hoping for a quick response, she starts with 911. No answer – twice. She has to call the regular number before anyone answers. She gives them all the information and tells them, 'Yes' she will file a complaint. Over an hour later, a single police officer rides up on a motor scooter, never gets off the scooter, has a few words with them (from his location out on the street. Then, rides off. Ha! Pura Vida!

Things No Man Over 20 Should Do!

1. Hold a weekly house meeting with roommates.

1. Let his father do his taxes.

2. Volunteer to be a magician's assistant.

For You Sports Fishermen (and women)

Last weekend they held a big fishing tournament at the Banana Bay Marina here in Golfito. The tournament was two days – Saturday and Sunday. The winning fisherman (fisherman singular, not the winning boat) caught 44 sailfish. That's not a typo – 44. The total catch by the eleven boats participating was 358 sailfish and one single marlin. Not only that, unlike most of the U.S. east coast fishing places, you don't have to run for hours from the marina to get out to the fishing grounds.  Off shore of this volcanic island the bottom (ocean floor) drops off drastically. You don't even get to finish the cup of coffee you bought at the marina before you're there.

Here's A Vital Statistic For You

In 2006, a total of 13 people in Costa Rica where killed as a result of coconuts falling from the trees. And, that is not a joke.

More Things No Man Over 20 Should Do!

1. Call "shotgun" before getting in a car.

2. Put less than ten dollars' worth of gas in the tank.

3. Jokingly flash gang signs while posing for wedding photos.

And Absolutely Not

Hold his lighter up at a concert or ever, ever whine!

Some More Pictures - Some from a Day on The Bay (I'll tell you about next time)

A 'little dump' 1/2 block off the main drag on the bay front!

Cute little kids are pretty much the same everywhere