My three favourite pictures from Zoo Ave:

“It’s not a Puma” (think Schwarzenegger)
Actually, it is.

The amazing Tucan

Look at how they each have white tufts!

I went for a little hike in Parque Nacional Braulio Carrillo a little while back, and had the monkey experience many seek when traveling to Costa Rica.

When we came upon a troop of monkeys in the trees, having not met a single other person in our few hours of travel led me to believe they were not “domesticated”. They made a racket up there, eating twigs and dropping debris, urinating with abandon, and coming nice and close to get a good long look at us.

Bummer, I guess the daily afternoon thunderstorms took a liking to the internet receptor on our roof, and did a little cooking while we were away. A triggered breaker and crispy resistors inside the power converter beside the data input jack confirmed my suspicion. The wireless router’s baked, too. With like 5 important things on the go, b-a-d timing.

Not quite pura vida.

Yesterday on our way home from a few days at Jaco beach, about 20 minutes outside of San Jose, a younger fellow was getting off the bus and stopped to talk to the driver. I noticed with half my attention that they were talking a little longer than usual, with a little more animation than usual. A few moments later, I saw a large handgun hanging from his hand. I immediately turned to tell Asheya, who was with Eowyn and Amadeus in the seat behind, “There’s a guy with a gun on the bus.” The implication finished registering, catalyzed by the quiet angst of a few other passengers, and I immediately repeated, “There’s a guy with a gun on the bus, get the kids on the floor.” Elias obediently ducked onto the floor beside me without delay or complaint (I’m so proud of him). I bet all the scenarios we work through (at Elias’ request) with respect to dealing with bear, jaguar, and cheetah altercations helped.

A minute or two later, the bus began driving, and I had my wallet prepped for what seemed a likely delivery, though within a couple troubled minutes we had ascertained with the other passengers that the fellow had exited (Glory be to God, otherwise it could have been much worse). He took whatever cash and tickets the driver had (it seems to me this was a bad bus to target, as most tickets are bought in advance at a kiosk), and apparently took the driver’s helper with him.

I have no doubt bus companies, especially in Central America, incorporate these activities into their yearly budgets. Even near “safe” Grecia, in “safer” San Luis de Grecia (our mountain home), there have been flyer reports of armed ladrones (thieves).

From common knowledge, and the armed guards outside of most shopping stores (in San Jose, not Grecia), this all meets with my expectation. We have a home invasion plan (keep an expendable money stash handy, and a phone with contact numbers in a shelter room). All an unfortunate part of the package.

Asheya’s been missing Canada, and now no doubt more so.

I never thought I would have been so happy to spend hundreds of dollars per hour for another professional.

Without getting into too many details, let me just say there’s true bliss in a well worded limitation of liability statement.

Would you be inspired to travel here based on these Lonely Planet excerpts? I can understand their existence to some extent, but in another they seem a bit extreme.

For travelers, a stopover in San Jose is regarded as a necessary evil before heading to the ‘real’ Costa Rica. (San Jose)

There have been many reports of thefts from cars and armed robbers on the trails or along the highway. (Parque Nacional Braulio Carrillo)

As rapid development takes its toll, you might find yourself batting off tour-hawkers the minute you step off the bus. (La Fortuna)

There’s rampant prostitution and a little drug problem. (Jaco)

Day-long buses bomb in and feed tourist hordes into its souvenir fly-trap. (Manuel Antonio)

Drug dealers have set up their candy shop in the street and it’s not unusual to be offered a little of this or that before you’ve hit your hotel. (Quepos)

Crime, in the form of robberies and drug trafficking, is on the up and foreign visitors make easy targets. (Parque Nacional Cahuita)

The town does have a seedy side, namely the international drug-running circuit which touches this remote area. (Tortuguero)

A ragged port city with a faded colonial air, Puerto Limon has a deservedly rough reputation. (Puerto Limon)

I almost wonder if it’s a backhand way to tell a certain class of traveler what they want to know…

5 continents, 11 countries, 19 cities, and 21 proposals later, I found my new graphic artist.

This is the global marketplace, and the power of outsourcing:

And the winner? Drum roll, please…he’s a Canadian!

Now that I have your attention… Is there any other interpretation for this poorest advertisement in the world?

We’re privileged with a $3,000,000 view—$1,000,000 out over the Central Valley in the front, $1,000,000 back into the mountainous countryside, and another $1,000,000 out over the lights of the Central Valley at night.

I’ve been exploring the back countryside (just start walking out the back door) a little here and there around sunset, and recently took Elias & Eowyn for a circuit amongst the coffee, limes, mangos, and bananas. Here’s what we saw.

(Our house, not really discernable, is on the top right of the ridge in a couple of the photos.)

Down into the valley

Down into the valley

The ravine at the bottom

 Up the other side

Up the other side

   Up the other side

Mango tree

Banana tree