The Happy Potter

Jasmin and Josh have become happy potters every time we go to Tamarindo. This is not to be confused with Harry Potter which I am reading to them while we swing in the hammocks. The pottery industry here stretches a little further back than the demand for tourist souvenirs. Somewhere around 500 A.D. the Chorotega Indians migrated from Mexico down to Costa Rica. The town of Guaitil has become infamous for its pottery production and is the home town of Arbin who runs a studio in Tamarindo. Arbin learnt how to make pottery from his mother, a skill which has been passed down through the generations. The traditional techniques have changed little.

The pottery lessons give us a great excuse to drive into Tamarindo every Wednesday and have breakfast at the Italian deli. While the kids are busy, Greg and I wander the tourist shops looking at all the things we don't need and can't carry. Costa Rica has an amazing array of really cool wooden bowls and boxes, which of course Greg drools over.

Playa Negra lost internet connection for several days when a couple of cunning thieves decided to steal the fibre optic cable running into the village. I struggled to understand the logistics and motivation for this but as I am merely a dumb blonde on an adventure. I have to accept that there are many things beyond my comprehension and no internet is no internet and it matters not what the reason is. The lack of contact with the outside world for almost a week meant that once we deposited our Happy Potters with Arbin we went in search of an internet cafe. To our dismay we were injected into a Spanish speaking world of PC computers. After my fifth "perdon, una problem" the lady working at the desk just hung out beside our station and babied us through retrieving emails. My poor Spanish and distant PC operating memories were frustrating to say the least. With nothing too vital sitting in the inbox we graciously gave in and exited the air-conditioned hell asap. I think Tamarindo is on its way to becoming a new Kuta Beach, Bali. The signs are all there, a developed surf community, plenty of tourists with coin and the promise of paved roads all the way from the airport. In Bali the invaders have Auzzie accents, here in Costa Rica they seem to be Americano.

Driving home from Tamarindo takes 30 or so minutes along the coast road. It's always a dusty wash board experience with the kids trying to count cows. Is that the opposite to counting sheep at night? Ahh the simple life, talking of which Playa Negra didn't get electricity until 1994. A few folk seemed to have a special nostalgia for the time before power. I simply see it as camping. I'm really glad we have electricity even if we have to replace a few bulbs.

The manager of Casa Fuego is a Texan named Jerrod and his wife Meghan. They are a wonderful, helpful couple and set us up with a farm visit with their local friends Yeti and Raffa. It was such a learning experience for the kids to see the self sufficiency of a typical Costa Ricans on their small holding. Josh is a chicken catcher from way back, as he gets bigger so does his prey.

Playa Negra, Costa Rica 2012

Chipping, UK 2007

I think the milking of the goat put the kids over the edge and my camera battery seemed to fail at the crucial moment. Still, the papaya eating rabbit put us all back on track. Inspired by the farm visit and chicken eggs, we booked to try and see turtles hatching at night. Marc is the local Negra Turtle hero. He has spent over a decade running a protection program for turtles in the area. These include, Green, Leatherback, Olive Ridley and the almost never seen a Hawksbill.

It all felt very clandestine as we made arrangements through Lola, a booking agent, to meet Marc at 7.30 in Cafe Playa Negra. At 7.29 a gray haired, haunted looking gentleman pulled up in a 4x4. Wearing a red bandana on his head, the adventure was starting to have a piracy feel to it. However, looking at his watch he urged us to quickly follow him as everything was dependent on the tides. We sped in convoy along the dirt tracks, splashing through the river ford crossing and taking a sharp turn towards the ocean. We abandoned our vehicles in a grassy field where we rendezvoused with his assistant. We ventured forth on foot clambering down a clay ravine with no moon we relied on a couple of flashlights. Once we were down on the sand, Marc began radio conversations with a couple of his scouts who were roaming the beaches looking for signs of turtles.

The biggest threat to the turtles are, of course, human beings. With a price tag of $2,000 for a nest of turtle eggs the temptation to poach the eggs is great. Apparently, with turtle eggs its all about he quality of the yolk to the white. Slowly Marc is hiring the poachers to work for him as scouts and re-educating local communities about the value of keeping the turtles from extinction. One of his main goals is to locate the adult females as they come ashore to nest, wait for her to lay the eggs and then relocate the nests to spots with high hatching success rates.

As we switched off the flashlights we were plunged into darkness until Marc switched on a red light which does not disturb the turtles. In reality all we had done so far was drive at night to the beach next door to us and brave the bugs for a nighttime beach walk. Yet it didn't feel like that, this was a grand adventure, the adrenaline was pumping and expectations were high. I think that perhaps the addition of radio communique always makes things seem way more official.

There was a "positive, repeat positive, nest hatching". We all scurried over as quickly as the soft wet sand of high tide would allow. In the crimson glow I managed to make out the tiny bodies of ten or so dead turtle hatchlings, high above the surf line. It was a sad sight, they had emerged in the full heat of the day and just fried in the hot sand. Marc quickly measured and weighed each one before starting to sift through the sand below. The mood completely changed when we sighted the first live hatchling flailing its tiny flippers to pop up through the dry sand. Pretty soon more followed and with the help of Marc we were soon weighing in the first ten live ones. I wanted to carry them down to the water but they need to struggle down the sand so they can imprint their birth place and set their bearings for eternity. It made me think about how many would actually make it back here. Marc's faithful assistant was now digging in the sand about an arms length and then scooping out all the unhatched eggs. There was a total of 104, 10 dead on the surface and 20 eggs which didn't develop because the fly larva deformed them. A few maggots were writhing around in the empty shells. I suppose just another one of natures parasitic arrangements. The odds for these turtles just to overcome getting through the hatching process and out to face the ocean seemed like insurmountable odds to me with man, flies, raccoons, birds and dogs all out to eat them. I followed one little guy down to the waters edge and watched him so small against the enormity of the ocean. Not for one second did he falter he just skooched onwards into the water and was gone. I say he, but Marco wanted all of them to be girls. With only 1 or 2% surviving to adulthood, he had hopeful visions of them returning as egg layers.

While he filled in the hole and left no sign of turtle activity Marc relayed a story he heard at a beach some 25 kms down the coast. An old man in his 70's spoke of how he had only seen turtles hatch twice in his life. If a turtle lives around 50 years I was starting to understand how important it was to try and help the turtles surmount the seemingly massive odds against them.

“Success is determined by those whom prove the impossible, possible.”

James W. Pence

Pura Vida

"Riches are not from abundance of worldly goods, but from a contented mind." Mohammed

Pura Vida, pure life, is a uniquely Costa Rican expression and it sums up the warm laidback friendly attitude of Ticans. The thought is that we are here for such a short time, be happy and spread happiness because soon you're gone. My wish to continue enjoying a Bahamian style friendly attitude has been granted along with a growing sense of contentment.

How can I not be content in Casa Fuego, house of fire? Our first sunset in the house blazed a warm welcome. Although we may have our elements crossed because we actually spend most of our time in the water since we moved in. Maybe Pura Agua Vida would be a more appropriate expression.

We are always in the water, forever taking a dip to cool off. It stands to reason considering the air temp is in the mid 90's and the water somewhere in the 80's. With such stunning scenery and warm water Greg has "gone pro" with the GoPro. Every sunrise and sunset he hangs out in the surf obsessed with obtaining that perfect tube shot. With no art director breathing down his neck I think he's gone purist and is tormenting himself into capturing the perfect golden lit pipe.

"I still need the camera because it is the only reason anyone is talking to me."

Annie Leibovitz

Of course most of the time Greg gets completely distracted by his nearest and dearest and has his rubber arm twisted to take the same old family shots.

The kids and I are seasoned camera hams and we know if we change the color of our rash guards each session we stand a better chance of getting our hero shots on the boogie boards.

"A child is a beam of sunlight from the Infinite and Eternal,

with possibilities of virtue and vice- but as yet unstained."

Lyman Abbott

“Not everything is a mermaid that dives into the water.”

Russian Proverb

Its a complete trade secret how Greg managed to achieve my unusual underwater ripple effect. Its actually just testament to the delicious food in the restaurants here.

The kids keep getting braver and braver and able to handle bigger and bigger surf. They both just keep popping up like a cork every time they duck under a wave, although sometimes is does end in tears.

“So we shall let the reader answer this question for himself:

who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived

or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?”

Hunter S Thompson

Maybe it's the heat, all the water time or my iodine depletion/lobster deprivation but the kids seem to have even more energy than usual. The simplicity of watching the sun arrive and disappear each day is surely enriching my soul and making me go to bed early. I have to confess that several times the kids come to my bedside to kiss me goodnight. My nightly lullaby is an orchestra of cicadas, frogs and the never ending resonance of wind and ocean. In the emerging light each morning I wake to the warm breezes blowing through my window like billowing silk. I hear the cry of unfamiliar birds, the crash of waves and the low throaty booming of the howler monkeys. There are a couple of troupes that hang out around here.

"Just cause you got the monkey off your back

doesn't mean the circus has left town."

George Carlin

The kids seem to be happy whenever there is a pool and time to play in it. Sometimes while we are hanging out in the water the horses wander into the garden to trim the grass. Having these knight-less white steeds wind up the path from the beach adds to the incredulity of this Avalon.

“Now the great winds shoreward blow,

Now the salt tides seaward flow;

Now the wild white horses play,

Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.”

Matthew Arnold

The house is all upside down with bedrooms on the ground floor and and living room and kitchen upstairs to maximize the view. There are no railings on the balcony to mar the vista and hammocks string across both levels to tempt you into a siesta. The saltillo tile throughout is cool underfoot and breezes waft through every window. These thermals are swirled ever onward by ceiling fans set high in the teak ceiling. I spend a lot of time admiring the teak cieling and the way the geckos turn into my heroes and pick off the insects that make it inside. The garden is crowded with every type of palm and cactus and they play host to huge numbers of small creatures: squirrels, bats, owls, wasps, termites and blue magpie jays. The beach is crowded with hermit crabs and the odd unwanted jellyfish. Although with underwater photography snapping my contours I'm beginning to feel like a jelly fish.

We seem to have come to some sort of balance with the homeschooling. I've definitely been applying a more carrot and stick approach. Okay, so I admit to offering bribes. As I said the other day "we dont have time to learn anything we're too busy getting through all this work". So perhaps I need to have a little attitude adjustment and figure out how to spice it up a little. I guess that is the whole secret to teaching. I moved the classroom downstairs the other day, smugly I imagined it would change things around a little. It sure did, all the papers ended up blowing into the pool.

"Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,

and then the different branches of arithmetic --

Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision."

The Mock Turtle, Alice in Wonderland.

I just don't want it to be this boring experience for them. I really want them to get something from it. There is no way I can pretend it replaces what their formal school so brilliantly delivers but maybe this can suffice enough to allow a different lifestyle. If I can make the online school work our lives suddenly have more options.

"Do not confine your children to your own learning,

for they were born in another time." Chinese Proverb

"Sir, I need to know where I can get some business hammocks?"

Homer Simpson

I love the way the hot wild winds race down the dry grassy canyons and get sucked out to sea with a whistle. A strong blast reminds me of the presiding power of the weather. The longer I am here the more I remember Africa, the way it felt with nature close by and warm winds circling the moon. Night and day, I find myself sitting in the adirondack chairs focused out on the ocean. Don't get me wrong, we do sometimes leave the house, usually in search of food or surf. Our travel paranoia makes us lock up our computers every time we leave the house. Maybe it's a perverse need to not get separated from our technology rather than a true reaction to our surroundings, so we throw all the electronics into a cabinet and wrap it with a steel cable locakable surf strap. It also keeps the kids from too much computer time kind of like a gastric band. It's just a short stroll down to the Playa Negra Hotel where we perfect our pool playing tactics... I mean geometry skills. A couple of the other watering holes have foosball but I'm not sure how I can postively spin that into an educational resource?

I feel a little disloyal to the Abacos these days as my new love of Costa Rica flourishes. Costa Ricans are kind when it comes to my flailing Spanish. They will throw out a line to test your ability, not to trip you up just to see where you're at. If you try to cross the language gap an encouraging smile is given with a patient look, just as my Espanol Professor Nury told me it would be before we left. My only problem is that I am way too eager to leap the communication chasm and I don't quite make it. Time and time again I find myself grasping onto the Spanish side then watch my fingers tips scrape off the edge as I fall flailing back into the abyss of English. Perhaps if I didn't have so damn much to say I'd chill out a little?

Touch wood, so far everyone is healthy (apart from the daily cases of homeschoolitis). This still does not stop me becoming consumed with researching all the remote possible creatures that can be fatal in this new enviroment. I'd like to say it was my EMT training but that's just bogus. I think its human nature and our survival instinct that makes us worry about a rogue snake or poisonous scorpion. The chances of us coming across such rare creatures are so remote, it would actually be an environmental treat to be face to face with a panther. The stats continue to tell us premature death is most likely from a car crash. Maybe traveling makes us feel like we are changing those odds? Still these are the only type of pearly gates I want to see for a while.

"On the day before Sweden abolished the inheritance tax in 2005,

mortality fell by 17%.

Maybe the only thing more powerful than death is taxes."

Jessica Ruvinsky

Bienvenido a Costa Rica

"Flying may not be all plain sailing, but the fun of it is worth the price"

Amelia Earhart.

"Please be there, please be there" I just needed the driver to be there. My eyelids were scratching over my eyeballs, it was o'dark thirty and I had no idea what time zone this was let alone what the actual clock said.

Popping out into the real world beyond the airport bubble I searched longingly in the sparse crowd for a sign with a name. I wonder if anyone ever pretends to be the name on a limo board just to get an easy ride? I was about ready to steal someone's identity when I spotted Doug with a hug…well a HUGLIN actually. I didn't want to sigh too heavily in relief as it had been quite some time since I'd cleaned my teeth.

Wheeling our huge luggage trolley and trailing the tip hungry porter, we stampeded out into the parking lot. The dryness of the heat sucked what was left of my orbital moisture. Doug was an ex-cop who had worked the gang scene in America for 2 decades, no wonder he was optimistic about getting our herd of wheelie suitcases into a small minivan. With 4 cases and two boards strapped down on the roof we hummed through the parking garage and out into the arid air of San Jose. I was by now delirious with sleep and my scattered brain smiled inwardly at the look we presented in the black windows of the city streets. It was straight out of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, hopefully the boards wouldn't really start flapping. There were Jeremy and Jemima already asleep in the back, although calling me Truly Scrumptious at this point was just plain ludicrous. I was more akin to the Wicked Witch of the West, slightly green and psychotic. Greg settled into a long chat about the state of the world and I finally put some of my EMT training to good use and started to construct myself a neck brace out of a couple of airplane blowup cushions. Once I was rigged straight, I wedged a back pack in between me and the door so I became an upright pinnacle ready for a vertical sleep pattern. I estimated 1 Benedryl should cover me for the next 5 hours. Finally my days of tour guiding were paying off. All those long boring coach journeys when I would sleep soundly next to the driver wearing sunglasses while pretending to be awake. Apart from hearing some low voiced politics from the front, a few sections of road ridge vibrations and the odd "gadonk" of a pothole, I felt nothing and hours later woke up in Playa Negra. Turning into the final dirt track, I sensed our arrival and squinting in the dawn light I accusingly looked at Greg when we stopped in front of what I thought would be chez nous.

Luckily I was staring out of the wrong window. Ventanas Condos on the opposite side of the street would be our home for the next few days until Casa Fuego became vacant. After we threw our bags inside, our new neighbor, a kindly Canadian lady, drove us over to the local hotel for breakfast. We sat around shellshocked by the heat and ordered Americano breakfasts as an early morning comfort.

"A woman is as old as she looks before breakfast."

Edgar Watson Howe

Conquering the first meal ordered in Spanish from an Austrian run establishment put us all in a positive frame of mind for a 20 minute walk home in the dust. Not that I mind walking, its just so unAmerican to walk in the street when there is still oil on the planet. Although it was still early, the realization of how hot it actually got here started trickling down my back. The condo pool and hammocks were weighing heavily on my eyelids.

We spent the next couple of days in a sort of semi unpacked, homeschool holding pattern. Alternating between thrashing the annals of learning with splashing in the pool.

When a fish truck delivers shrimp you know you are in a prime place. I didn't feel too deprived from my Bahamian lobster fest with the jumbo shrimp to feed my iodine cravings. Josh insisted he could only eat dorado not swordfish so, as only an evil mother can, I served him sword because they were out of dorado. I carefully told Josh I had asked the fish man for dorado and that was his piece on the plate in front of him. Technically I didn't lie right? Anyway, its like crab versus fake crab, its all from the ocean right? Between the deliveries and the local market, we managed to eat drink and be merry. However, it wasn't long before Greg's old friend Bob tracked us down with an offer to use his car. Bob's kind heart and welcoming demeanor was wonderful. A Montecito boy with stories of horse riding through the old neighborhoods, Bob has now carved out his own patch of paradise here in Playa Negra. Soon Bob told me his wife makes bikinis and I could barely concentrate on anything else he told me.

Weaving around on the dusty backroads, Bob showed us all the local spots and we even managed a little zoological study. I've really got to quit seeing everything as a possible 5th grade project.

"What an unusual car"

Truly Scrumptious.

Once we had dropped Bob off, it took us approximately 2 minutes to get lost. At least there was no traffic to contend with, just the odd loose horse or dog chewing on the tyres. We thought it smart to use the field of teak trees as a marker to get our bearings.

Unfortunately it seems every other field in this part of Costa Rica has teak trees.

"Well, when I was lost, I suppose it's good advice to stay where you are until someone finds you. But who'd ever think to look for me here?"

Alice in Wonderland.

The restaurants here are wonderful as the views. Iguanazul Hotel had a quaint set menu with soup and fish courses. There was even time for a game of chess and little reading while we hung out waiting for the food.

We quickly dropped into a morning pattern of surf check at o'dark thirty, banana pancakes for breakfast and homeschool. The kids managed to finish the brain strain by the time the heat of the day blazed upon us. We spent the afternoons hanging by the pool (literally in hammocks). Swimming was only interrupted for frenzied bouts of grasshopper hunting and frog catching. A little boy, Diego, became our new best friend and he taught the kids how to catch the frogs and throw them into the pool. Then he told them how his friend's dog licked one and died. I must Google these frogs and find out if could use them in a blow dart or if the dog was merely old? Darn the internet being down again, I suppose I'll have to be old-fashioned and just hope for the best! I'm sure the sprinklers will wash away the poison?

Costa Rica is one of the greenest countries on the planet. With Nicaragua to the North and Panama to the South, I had imagined jungles with torrential rainfall. However, this is the dry season and we are surrounded by trees and thick undergrowth but the dust swirls around the roads obscuring the dense undergrowth. Yet it seems so fertile, almost anything will grow. There are living fences - if the farmer plants a fence post in the rainy season the wood will sprout roots and shoots and become a tree again. So with all this vegetation around there are lots of bugs. Big bugs, small bugs, big bugs that eat the small bugs. Luckily there are not too many mosquitos because of that silky warm wind.

"We hope that, when the insects take over the world, they will remember with gratitude how we took them along on all our picnics." Bill Vaughan

Towards the end of our stay at the condo, Greg went off in search of surf and surfer company over at Playa Negra. I alternated between grinding the kids through school and filling suitcases. As the day wore on I assumed my dear hubby was little late in coming back from morning surf because he had got caught up shooting photos of the beautiful waves. We didn't have much of a timeframe but after 4 hours I did start to explore the possibilities of his demise. The first couple of hours started off with me thinking how weird it was that I actually had to consider that if the car got flooded at the river crossing a crocodile, does really live there? I figured Greg was a bit leathery for a croc snack, but when as the time ticked on I started to consider the possibilities of a drowning in the ocean and what search and rescue could mean here? Finally as the time dragged into the later afternoon my imagination had him locked up in some stinking rat infested jail cell because some minor traffic infringement which had escalated into a serious misunderstanding. As I was mulling over the logistics of how to fly a dead body back to US, he turned up with that "waddaya fretting about and what time is it anyway" look?

I realized I really had to get out more so the next day we headed out to Tamarindo. Now my knowledge of world surf spots is motivated more by Surfing Monopoly than the actual ability to catch waves anywhere. As we were so close, it seemed right to go and at least visit. The heat of the day, the dirt roads and windows that didn't roll up made for a dusty journey. At least the washboard ridges made the car vibrate so loudly I couldn't hear the kids complain.

It was nice to see that my evening steak was already headed over to Playa Negra.

"My favorite animal is steak." Fran Lebowitz.

Tamarindo is a place where the full gambit of surf tourism is about to explode, although the economic meltdown has probably saved it from a fate worse than highrises. Pulling into town, we found the inevitable ATM air conditioned box and stepped inside to play our own version of roulette. After a bank card hokey cokey...you know you put your wife's card in you pull your wife's card out in out in out...pay for each draw out. You put your own card in, it spits it out, in out in out...if it swallows it I will shout.... After a few breath holding Vegas moments we were feeling flush with Greenbacks and were ready to have breakfast at the Italian deli.

After breakfast we wandered the shops and found an amazing potter who offered to give the kids lessons. Sounded like the perfect Spanish/art combo that would give me time to shop every week.

Josh bought a little pottery birdwhistle from a street vendor. He probably got ripped off but these days I look on it as a math and a life lesson. Watching him negotiate I realized there are stages to the street purchases and different ways that each person handles the transaction:

1. Innocence in purchasing, where the buyer assumes the price is static and legitimate and has no qualms on paying over the required amount, purchaser concludes the transaction happy to have acquired the goods.

2. The more savvy tourist realizes the price is negotiable and moves through the process of bartering more aggressively and may become angry if accidental overpayment occurs.

3. The worldly wise traveler accepts overpayment and uses the opportunity to interact and chat with the seller on a range of subjects, views the interaction as street theatre and enjoys the moment.

Needless to say our family covers the full range of purchasing states.

Time for an injection of Gringo at the large Super Mercado. After being in the Bahamas, this range of choice was somewhat overwhelming. Rather like the vast variety of tours that were on offer in the Travel Bureau next door, it would seem that in the spirit of Tour Operator one-upsmanship it was possible to take a horseride tour which included lunch, zip lines, white water tubing, thermal springs and a mud spa.

Rolling out of the airconditioned haven, I was soon heaving my "one or two items" into the car. After such a huge injection of consumerism I needed to head back to the tranquility of the beach and our new lodgings.

"Home, nowadays, is a place where part of the family waits till the rest of the family brings the car back." Earl Wilson