Shopping, parking, and cooking in Costa Rica. Taking it all in.

There is little anonymity when you shop at Mom and Pop outfits. It's a magical thing to experience forgetting your wallet and have the news received with a shrug of the shoulders and the appearance of a worn, leather book into which your total is pencilled. I feel at that moment like I am in a brown version of Little House on the Prairie.

I'm touched every single time I shop at a certain small grocery and the owner gives me a gift. It's always the same routine: as I'm finishing checking out, he gives a small wave to his assistant and mutters something unintelligible and she appears with an assortment of goodies to add to my things. Last time it was the limes and bananas pictured below. 

Presents from a local grocer.

              I've tried to find a constellation of small shops and frequent them with the equality a parent tries to impart to their children. My second butcher, Cali, has proudly shown me pictures of his boys, given me recipes and yesterday asked if I'd like him to get me some rabbit. He saves chorizo for me and hands out pearls of wisdom like it's another cut of meat. My favorite so far was when I asked him how he would prepare a meat I was buying and he replied with a stone serious face, "con amor, paciencia y ganas" or "with patience, love and desire". 

Cali, the butcher.

                 You can't park anonymously here. There's a whole career as a 'parking man'. At nearly every curbside, market, shopping center and restaurant, appears a man in a blaze orange or neon yellow vest.  As you move in to park, they flap their hand wildly to signal that your vehicle's rear is sticking out  and by God, improve the parking job! Or, he's stopping traffic and guiding you out and along your way. Of course, you're expected to drop some colones their way and at first I felt this gringa attitude of "I can do it myself!" followed by a sigh as I begrudgingly gave them some coins. 

Now? I have a dream of taking pictures of every single one who helps me and I look forward to the interaction never guessing what hilarity or profundity will ensue. These fellows are nearly living caricatures for how much personality they contain. They shout things like 'dale reina'! "Come on queen!" or "Muneca le van a pegar", "Doll, they are going to hit you."

This gentleman caught me looking at a newspaper clipping pasted on a nondescript wall and shared with me that it housed the work of an amazing potter and went on to describe the work as a museum curator might. Funny enough, a couple of days later we had to print off a paper for Gigi and he stood there next to the car watching her type frantically into the computer as J played an app on his school iPad and Baby-O blared music from my phone.
We must've seemed like we had landed from a different planet.

I want to collect the things they say like Halloween candy. Once, after I'd settled the kids in the car with our market loot, I went back for a string of bananas. When I approached the car, Gigi's eyes were like saucers and she was shrunken into her seat. As I paid the coins to a scrawny fellow we see every Sunday wearing a blaze orange vest, I noticed a smudge of blood near his mouth and think nothing of it. As we pulled away, Gigi told me in horror that he and another attendant had been screaming at one another until finally, the other smacked him across the face. In desperation, she cried, "Mom! I think they were fighting about us!" I cackled to see the same pair hugging a couple of days later at another intersection.

Even at the mall, shopping is a pretty personal experience. We have a beloved yogurt shop we visit at the mall, Moyo (it's 100% Bulgarian yogurt and you can choose fresh tropical fruits to smother over top. Decadent and fantastic! Moyo was started by a female Mexican entrepreneur;  if you come visit, you can bet you will try this great yogurt with flavors like lychee and cas.). We have come to know nearly all their staff and they carefully wait for each child to place their order and nod encouragingly before closing the sale with a "buen provecho"! (bon appetit)

Costa Rican Cas fruit. Photo captured from Cupotico, where you can read about the plethora of Costa Rican fruits.

I'm honored and touched beyond words how a fellow soccer school family has not allowed me to be anonymous in our new pueblo. Each Sunday, they have patiently told me where to buy a rice cooker where I won't get ripped off, how to reach  the police, and how to give my address, "a la par del supermercado la Gloria", "next to the supermarket la Gloria".  This last weekend, when I told of a confusing visit to the auto mechanic, the dad Francisco very politely asked if he could look at the car. Francisco lifted the hood and proceeded to check every fluid. He knelt on the ground and examined the brake pads and looked under the car. When I told them I was having trouble finding a barbecue, he promptly offered to drive me to a store in the next town over to find one. They apologetically explained, "we are out of season". 

I had to laugh considering it's a perfect 73 every single day or warmer!

Francisco teasing Baby-O that he was going to steal what hair the doll had.  Couldn't they be twins?!

 Speaking of hair, mohawks are huge here. No self-respecting boy leaves the house without hair gel. These dudes groom. Below you might be able to spot three different lengths of mohawks. J ended up playing a double-header this weekend one with his own age group, the other with the 14+ team. A scout came to watch and invited him to play on a select team. He scored in both games. I love this picture that Gigi took right after he scored, the boys all jumped on him and were yelling a cacophony of things that I, nor J could make sense of. You can see how happy his mates are, the opposing team? Not so much!

Following a goal by J and a dog pile, the team moves on. People on the sidelines joke, "your son doesn't stick out or anything!" The boys on either side of him are 11 too.

Wait until I tell you about our landlady who arrived from their horse ranch in Nicaragua. Her life is like one big screenplay.  The kids were riveted. I loved it when she declared with a glass of wine in one hand and grand gestures in the other, "You don't have to feel inadequate or afraid if you don't understand something." She grew up all over the world and was living in Monaco by the time she was in her early 20's. I can't wait to share more.

Francesca leading Baby-O in an impromptu riding lesson telling her to breathe deeply and feel calm.

Francesca's methods appear to be right on target.

The neat thing is that mind-boggling stories like hers abound. On Friday we will visit expats who live very close and have kids Gigi and J's age. When I inquired about their background (the dad is Argentine and the mom is British) this is what we got, "The children were born when we were in Trinidad, from there we were in Chile for 3 1/2 years followed by 3 years in Bangladesh, 2 years in Venezuela and we have now been in Costa Rica for 2 school years." 

Wow.

We miss you and the familiar things from home. We are still living in a state of numbness as stories and experiences pummel us at every turn.

Just a bit of pummeling. . .

I know it's not easy for the kids to try to connect with people and overcome the language barrier. There is a deep solitude being new. They overwhelm me every day with their bravery and fortitude. Drop them a line and tell them what you think about what they are doing.

It's all new to us.

** I finally opened a Facebook account. When the kids' schools announced that when (!) there's another earthquake, that's where we will learn if they're ok I figured it was time.
Hope to see you there.