I love our home. By some magic, it has an incomparable view out the expansive front windows…and a completely different but similarly magnificent view out the back windows too!

The front windows, grand porch, and yard look over the huge central valley—it’s actually the most stunning at night (“Fire!” as Eowyn exclaimed when we first arrived), and when combined with the leather rocking chairs, a most pleasurable and peaceful late evening is made.

The back windows, covered carport area, and larger back yard look over the attached steep slope of coffee, and the terraced mountainous countryside beyond.

The home itself is a luxury design, with large open spaces and modern touches. If only it were closer to town. With a 30-60 minute bus ride, buses running only every 1.5 hours, and very little of anything within hiking distance in the local community (the roads are very steep), shopping and enjoyment of the town become more problematic. We’re trying to find ways to make it work.

Being in the mountains, we’ve met a lot more wildlife of the crawly kind, the highlight being a scorpion in the laundry room.

There may be a perfect paradise out there somewhere, but for now this is close enough.

We just transferred a deposit for a rental near Grecia in Costa Rica. It’s pretty close to perfect—pending a first-hand review one week today.

• It’s far up the hills above Grecia, so the view and climate are perfect. (Clean air, check.)
• It’s on two acres (that’s right, 2!) of lawn, flowers, fruit trees, and coffee. (Grass, check.)
• It’s in a small village, so has walkable destinations like groceries and a playground (apparently, which would be fantastic, since Elias & I couldn’t find a single one during our trip).
• It’s a short bus ride to Grecia for larger shopping trips and activities, which in turn is close to San Jose for everything you could want (or not want).
• It’s new, furnished, and amazingly available firstly for the short term, with the option of the longer term.

Want a sneak peak?

Sweeeeet.

one world
one heaven
and yet from another
the heavens not mine

stranger sun
stranger life
stars out of place
and so am I

chele, not cafe
hill, not hole
bread has never been
the world never seen

and so fly once again
vain promise, same hope
we’ll lead as we’re led
and feed as we’re fed

In San Jose (and Costa Rica in general), when there’s

• no webpage of bus routes and schedules,
• no form of bus route or schedule documentation (at least not that I came across),
• no visibly identified bus stops in many cases, and
• no employee at any bus terminal to ask any questions to,

I ask, what good justification do bus drivers have in getting annoyed / irritated / frustrated / angry / [insert your word] if someone asks them a question?! Is rolling one’s eyes, letting out long sighs, and going on about how there’s no time for an answer more productive than a polite explanation that only other passengers have the time to provide information, or to give a quick undetailed answer?

It all depends on the personality of the driver (one left his route to drop me off in front of my lodging one night), but oh, what negative responses I’ve gotten!

And for the Google record, travellers, if you’re anything like me, rather than know that the current Tica Bus terminal is “San José. Costa Rica. Paseo Colón. 200 meters North & 100 meters West from Torre Mercedes, Paseo Colón, Across front Funeraria del Magisterio Nacional,” as stated on their website (of course, none of my three maps marked the Torre Mercedes), you may be pleased to know that the terminal is on Ave. 3 between Calles 26 and 28, you’ll pass the Torre Mercedes (it’s the Scotiabank building) as you bus into town, and their attached hotel is more than decent and convenient. That wasn’t so hard, was it???

Sometimes, you just have to give up.

I really don’t know much about that. But now with kids, sometimes it’s just the right thing to do.

So after

• pounding the information superhighway to drum up all “for rent” and “for sale” listings and contacting every owner, manager, and real estate agent we could find,
• contacting every real estate agent I could find in the towns of interest,
• checking the radio stations, bill boards, etc., in the towns of interest,
• viewing what there was to readily view,
• renting a car and driving through and around the towns of interest, knocking on houses “for rent” and “for sale”, and probing the locals,

we just couldn’t find, in our short timeframe, something workable. The days were passing, the stress was mounting, and our family needed to be together again. To stay is the path of least resistance. To go is not a clear best decision. And so we gave up.

But it doesn’t come easy. After about hour 12 of my return bus ride, I had a sudden, “Well, maybe it wouldn’t be soooo bad for us all to just go down and figure it out from there. I wonder if…I hope that…Asheya hasn’t spoken with our landlord to reinstate our contract. Maybe we should talk about it some more. But it’s out of my hands…thy will be done.”

I arrived home. The reinstatement was complete. The choice was made. The safer, easier path lay ahead. And yet my heart was heavy.

This afternoon, we had a visit. Our house has been rented from under us. And so the choice has again been made! “Esta bien,” we hope. Thy will be done.

Avatar, the antidote to Apocalypto, involves the transformation of a human militant into another species with a treasured connection to their environment.

According to Costa Ricans, apparently I “know Spanish.” That’s, of course, compared to the majority of gringos who visit for a week or two and expect everyone to communicate in nothing but good ‘ol English. But I do manage to get my point across using nothing but Spanish, and recently I have felt something “click” in that a lot more words are getting through in the other direction, if I concentrate.

So as I left the theatre, having watched the whole 3D extravaganza in Spanish with no subtitles, and sped my rental car through the bustling night in the heart of a Central American city, I had to wonder, had I become my own avatar?

My current favourite movie (which, as with many people, happens to be the most recent really good movie I saw) is Evan Almighty (not to be confused with its predecessor). I saw it once before, thought about it on my long bus ride into the heart of Costa Rica, and found it in my B&B’s small selection, so I just had to watch it again. It’s laugh out loud funny on occasion, innocent, unpretentious, touching, and contains elements of the truth of God.

Yeah, so I’ve been back in central Costa Rica since Saturday, house hunting. That was a 15 hour travel day starting at 4:00am; not fun. The 3 hour border delay meant I got dropped on the highway in the dark. A few other people were waiting for the bus to Grecia. Then a pirate “taxi” (ie: an illegal, unregistered guy making money) picked them all up. One woman made several attempts to talk me into joining them, getting more and more stern: “Muy peligroso!” And I do believe that it could be quite dangerous, alone on the road near the big city at night with possessions. So I had a choice. Risk the highway, or the taxi pirate. I chose to wait. Fortunately, the bus arrived before the car left.

I might have shaved a bit of time off the travel had I taken a Tica Bus (or equivalent). However, when Elias and I tried one of these direct buses from Liberia to Managua, we had a bad experience that I have not yet told you about, and want to record for the benefit of future travelers:

So we booked our seats with Trans Nica through Camino Verde in Monteverde, and were told exactly where and when to wait in Liberia for the bus, which starts in San Jose. We got up early, got to the spot, and waited. 1 hour later, the bus arrived but had no seats for us, and then we all realized this was the bus that left San Jose an hour before ours did. So we passed another hour. Then the bus approached, we waived, and it flew right past. In a bad state, we ran after it, frantically grabbed a taxi, and eventually chased it down (thank goodness for road construction). The driver (this time for the right bus) still had no seats for us. So we paid a lot of money (relative to the normal buses we had been taking) to save us hassle, and now we had huge stress and no seats. The driver said we could share a seat until the border, and then we’d have seats. At the border, they questioned us about not having tickets (we were only given a receipt) so we didn’t even know if we’d be able to continue with them. They gave no good explanation of the system to cross the border with this type of bus, which was again stressful, and no explanation for why we waited 1.5 hours before being allowed back on the bus. Fortunately, we got our two seats, and eventually got to Managua. So who pocketed the money? The folks at Camino Verde? The person they contacted at Trans Nica to register our seats? Or the driver etc. who filled the seats in San Jose that were supposed to be reserved for us?

Could have been worse…could have been better.