What are we doing in Costa Rica?

We made it! We had a long day, and not without stress, but we’re safe and sound.

Some highlights:

• our property manager arriving 45 minutes late to pick up our money and keys
• driving around and around the airport looking for the car rental office which turned out to be half a mile away with no signs
• the $25 per-person departure tax!
• finding out one of our bags was too heavy to fly
• having the sinking realization that our 70-minute layover in Houston did not account for baggage claim, customs, and re-checking our bags
• miraculously making our connection!
• Dean being “that baby” on the Houston-Austin flight

Before I went to bed last night I bought a six-pack of Fireman’s #4 and some Taco Cabana. I kept spontaneously laughing out loud in the grocery store: How could I choose from all the milk? Shelves upon shelves of maple syrup!! We’re all so amazed right now by the opulence of our Texas life that we’re walking around in a kind of daze. The Internet is so fast! The U.S. quarter dollar coin is so small!

We’re not done blogging just yet. We have a little post-processing to do.

The good news is, we love Monteverde! There is a ton of fun stuff to do with the kids, the cool mountain air feels really good, and nothing is trying to eat us!

The bad news is, some food-borne parasite has been making a mosh pit in Elizabeth’s guts, so we’re house-bound until they move their party elsewhere.

This story is a few weeks old, but I didn’t want to neglect it:

As we came down out of the mountains on our way to San José from La Fortuna, the first substantial city we entered was San Ramon, the place we were to meet up with the interstate highway. As soon as we were within the city limits, we were flagged down by the transit police. Right away I had a lump in my throat, since I was driving with an expired license. Maybe they won’t care. It’s not a Costa Rican license anyway. By the way, this was one of those things on my getting-ready list that slipped through the cracks.

Señor Transit Police was middle-aged with gray hair. His English was just as bad as my Spanish, which is to say bad. He double- and triple-checked: “¿No habla español?” Of course he noticed right away that my license was expired. He seemed incredulous that I would just grimace and nod, and not try to make an excuse or beg for mercy (maybe it was just that I didn’t know the Spanish for “mercy”). He indicated that he was going to write a ticket, and still I just nodded and said “Sí, claro.” Nonplussed, he said he would go get his friend, who could speak English. I was beginning to wonder if they were going to take my family of four “downtown.”

I don’t know if Señor Transit Police numero dos could speak English, but he certainly didn’t attempt it. What he did do, was to ask for twenty thousand colones (equivalent to forty U.S. dollars) and insist that Elizabeth drive instead. Elizabeth and I started digging through our pockets. Between the two of us, we had around four dollars. I said I needed an ATM (Necesito un cajero automatico). He conferred with his partner, who said “¡Que lastima!” Various internet searches suggest that this either means “What a pity!” or “I’m in pain!” Take your pick.

The first cop came back to the window. He said he was going to help us by letting us go. I wasn’t sure I heard him right. I think what I said to him translates as “I can let’s go?!”

As I pulled cautiously away from the curb and took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths, Eliabeth said, “Was that a shakedown?” The fog in my head began to clear. “Yeah, I think it was.” Welcome to San Ramon, gringos.

Here are three things that we were surprised we miss:

Local Phone

“Who would call us?” we thought. “We don’t need no stinkin’ local phone!” This has turned out to be a big mistake. We live on a gated property, and the fact we don’t have a phone means no one can stop by without pre-arranging an exact time to meet them at the gate. This has caused problems with the taxi, the Tofu Man, our rental car, and our new friends. We would never attempt another long-ish stay overseas without a phone.

Washer/Dryer

We thought we would “go simple” and wash our own clothes. This would be fine except when it takes more than 48 hours for them to dry. If you’ve never let clothes stay damp for two straight days, let me tell you what they smell like: a cross between a wet dog and a locker room. Mmmm, fresh! Our landlords have a washer and dryer that they charge us around $10 per load for. Hey, at least we’re not buying gasoline!

An Oven

We knew when we came down here that we would only have a two-burner gas range and no oven. No big deal, right? When do we use an oven, anyway? We really miss being able to roast/bake/broil/warm whatever. There are those days when all you want for your life is to cook a frozen pizza. We have been in several homes here with an oven, and we get jealous.

The more time passes since I last wrote, the harder it is to write anything at all, because all my observations are competing for space. This is going to be a hodge podge assortment of ideas, hopefully enough to get me out of “blog debt.”

Simpler, But Not Easier

Life here is simpler than in the States, but simple things are hard. There is less of everything except untamed wilderness: fewer people, less traffic, less media barrage, less stuff to buy, fewer choices. If you had a million dollars down here, nobody would know it because there’s nothing to buy except food, sundries, and what few garments are suitable for sweating it out in the jungle. Imagine, if you will, no Best Buy, no Home Depot, no PetCo, no Old Navy, no Barnes & Noble, no Bed Bath & Beyond. And lo and behold, your life runs perfectly well without them. Living here is uncomplicated, and generally low-stress. However, basic things take a lot of energy. Taking care of the kids here is a lot harder, because it takes both parents to get them out of the house. We don’t have a child care option yet, and no parenting staples like playgrounds and children’s museums. Stocking the refrigerator is a challenge, since we can only carry the equivalent of a single grocery bag in the bicycle basket. We go the various small grocery suppliers almost daily. By the time I have biked home with a full basket, I just want to drink a cold beer and go to sleep!

Bug Update

We’re adapting. Graham’s legs have downgraded from “Fangoria” to “merely bad.” To paraphrase Forrest Gump’s momma, the jungle is like a box of chocolates… We are constantly astonished by the variety and unpredictability of our insect situation. Case in point: two nights ago at dusk the entire house was enveloped in a swarm of moth-like creatures with slender black wings. We hid out for a while under our mosquito nets. It felt like an episode of “Tales from the Crypt.” Within about an hour, they were gone, and the spider camped out above our staircase was exhausted. We’re learning to live side-by-side with our six-legged friends. They are a fact of life here. On the other hand, when one of them flew straight into my right ear at dinner, all the way to my eardrum, I almost lost my mind.

Man’s Place in Nature

The first thing you think when you see this country is “OMG, it’s so beautiful.” After a few days, this evolves to “I am a stranger here, and Nature wants to eat me.” Now that we’re four weeks in, I can feel another transition. “Holy crap, I am an animal too! I really do belong here; growing up in a manmade world made me forget how.” I am becoming attuned to the natural world in subtle ways. For example, we had two straight days of rain this week. This morning, I knew the rain was finished because the cicadas were making a racket, which they never do while it’s wet. We don’t have any clocks. Honestly, we tell the time by looking at the sky.

Overheard at breakfast, an American woman chatting with the Tica over the buffet counter:

Yo tengo muchos hombres mucho mas gigantes…

Which translates as “I have many men much more huge than that!”

I love eavesdropping in a second language.

I just have to get this off my chest. What you don’t see in our beautiful photos of “paradise” is that we are antagonized, harassed, molested, plagued by insects. Elizabeth said before that she thinks the plants rule the jungle. I think the insects rule the jungle, and they use the plants for housing and the human beings for convenient snacks. I have been reduced to a bag of blood and other precious fluids for bugs to enjoy.

In the nine months we spent researching Costa Rica and preparing for the trip, nothing made mention of the fact that insect repellent is not much more than a feeble joke to the local mosquitoes. Nobody told me my wife and four-year-old son were going to look like victims of the pox, and both want to rip their skins off. Weirdly, I am almost unaffected. I guess I don’t taste good, and Dean seems to have some of my tolerance. But I would rather they would come for me than my Elizabeth and my Graham. Especially Graham, who has around three-score welts on his arms and legs and scratches them until they become weeping sores. I want this to be a fun summer for him. I certainly didn’t set all this up to subject my little boy to an exotic form of torture.

It’s not all bad news. The situation seems to be improving, so I think we’re all developing a better resistance. We learned that we can secure Graham’s mosquito net to his bed with clothespins so he doesn’t kick it off during the night. Some days are much better than others. We’ll get mosquitoes one day, and gnats the next. Always ants, but at least they’re only after our provisions, not us. The jungle doesn’t need a weather forecast, it needs a bug forecast.

I hope I’m not being too negative. There are plenty of things to love about our setting, this just doesn’t happen to be one of them. This is going to go on the record as one of the prices to pay for the experiences we’re enjoying.

One of the ways the Internet is changing the world is that it enables working, communicating, and conducting business transactions across great distances. One of the things I’m experimenting with here in Costa Rica is a little economic sleight of hand. The reason we can stay here for an extended period is not because we have a large savings (haha, that’s a good one), but that thanks to the Internet, I can continue to work for my U.S. clients and draw funds from my U.S. bank. It is something of a juggling act, but here’s how it works:

1. I do some work. Once I have made some useful software, the resulting code is transmitted over the network to one of my university clients.

2. They send me a check. It would be a lot easier if they paid me electronically (like with PayPal), but these are large bureaucratic institutions and they do things the way they do them. I use a mail handling service called Earth Class Mail which receives my mail and scans it, so I can see any checks or business letters on the web.

3. I deposit the funds electronically. I pay a monthly fee to use the same electronic funds transfer network that your gas company or your credit card company uses to automatically withdraw an amount from your checking account. I use the scanned image of the paper check to get the account number and bank routing number to initiate the transaction.

4. I transfer funds from my business bank to my personal bank. I can do this quickly and easily from my bank’s website.

I wasn’t sure this would all work until a couple of days ago, when I completed my first payment. From the moment my client puts a check in the mail to the moment I can go to the ATM and turn my hard work into ice cream and rum, it takes sixteen days to go through my Rube Goldberg system.

The upshot of all this is that I am warping some old, reliable rules of economics: that the income you earn and your cost-of-living are both tied to your location. In a country where the minimum wage is $2 an hour, I still draw a U.S. salary. And by the way, the demand for my software skills here in Puerto Viejo is absolutely zero!

We’re not exactly cleaning up financially; We’re still paying our mortgage and all the bills back in Texas. But I now know the model works, and it’s giving us a very memorable summer abroad.

We owe you some photos! Here is the view walking up to our house. When I saw a similar photo before we came here, I assumed this is the short side of the house. Noooooo, this is the long side.

And here’s a view of the front, through the jungle flora.

Here’s my “office” upstairs. Watch out for low-flying jungle birds!

We did find bikes. Here’s Graham modeling the one equipped with a special seat for him.

Today is our first full day in our jungle home. As I write this, day is slipping into dusk. It’s amazing how much you can feel and hear the cycle of the day. The temperature, humidity, the movement of the air, and the animal songs all change according to the hour. At dawn the air is cooler and drier. By 10:30, your shirt starts to stick to your skin. Right now the dimming light and the breeze make for a kind of dreamy tranquility.

Today was a work day, so I set myself up in my office on the second floor. I have a floor under my feet and a roof over my head, but otherwise I am outside. Pretty different, and pretty cool. I even got some things done. I had a phone conference with my project manager in Austin and my client in Atlanta. Except that Skype disconnected me twice while I was on the call, you wouldn’t have known I was in the jungle.

Speaking of Skype, our fancy phone did not survive the trip to San José. I have no idea why, but the base station just refuses to get online. It worked perfectly back home. This is a huge drag because it means we can’t receive calls unless one of us is sitting in front of the computer, logged in to Skype. The damn thing wasn’t cheap either.

Let me tell you a little about our house. This is just like camping, but with flush toilets and high speed internet. On each of two floors we have a bathroom and a bedroom that can be considered indoors. Each floor also has a covered porch that triples as living room, dining room, and kitchen. The house was beautifully built by our host, with rich local hardwoods and painted tile throughout.

We are happy, but we still need to get into a routine. The morning is easy: wake up to the birds, then make coffee! After that it gets tricky. What we decide to do invariably depends on which of our children is crying and how much. They get tired and then all bets are off. I intended to go into town today and rent a bicycle, but Graham needed some time away from Dean, so he and Elizabeth went upstairs, and Dean and I toddled around down here.

Tomorrow: bicycle or bust!