The Tour Bus

Vista in Costa Rica

When planning our recent trip to Costa Rica, I thought about booking a tour to coffee plantations or volcanoes.  Gasping at the prices of American based companies, I decided it would probably be less expensive to book in San Jose, the capital.  At our hotel they told us about a local company who would be able to take us on a small tour to Poás volcano and see coffee plantations on route.  Perfect!  The tour was leaving at 7.30 am sharp.  A small van was taking ourselves and two husbands, staying at our hotel, to join up with our respective tours.  When we arrived at the next destination, I inwardly chuckled that the tour guide assumed that the fit young men were going up volcanos and we were going to a spa (to ease our old bones).  Luckily, one of the husbands was fluent in Spanish.  I can’t think of anything more boring than going to a spa…

Coffee Plants

We ascended onto the ‘volcano’ bus and greeted out fellow passengers.  There was only 4 seats left on our Sprinter so we sat in the back row like naughty students.  After 45 minutes we stopped on the side of a busy interstate and were joined by our final two guests, lovely ladies from North Carolina.  The passengers were quite eclectic.  The couple in front of us were French and Italian.  The French lady kept twittering about l’oiseaux, so I guess she was a birder.  The couple next to us were from Minnesota, although the husband was originally from New Zealand.  I was curious about moving from New Zealand to Minnesota but I guess love is powerful.

One of the North Carolina ladies announced to the whole bus that she had moved from New York to North Carolina after her divorce and it was ‘the best thing she had ever done’.  We seemed a chattier group than usual but perhaps this is normal in this post pandemic world?  One Canadian man was talking about American politics but survived the trip intact…  Teddy was trying to curl himself into a ball in his window seat.  He is so used to just being around me and wolves that he was struggling to cope with all this sociality.

Water Buffalo and Cart

Then we spotted the first coffee sign for a plantation.  Inevitably it was Starbucks.  I think they start off with good coffee but then ruin it with burned milk (just my opinion).  We stopped at the next plantation and there was a little visitor center and café.  The coffee was nice but the view even better.  When we arrived there was a very old man posing with his water buffalo.  He berated me for giving him Costa Rica currency – he wanted dollars.  How did he know I was American?  He would have been less happy if I offered him Icelandic Krona.

Spike

The roads were narrow and interesting.  Thankfully I was too excited about a volcano to have a panic attack.  There were very deep ditches at the sides of roads to deal with tropical rainfall.  Generally, the roads were in good condition.  It was a very steep, winding drive up to Poás volcano but finally we arrived.  Our tour guide said, “Vamanos!”, and we strode up the road to the summit with varying degrees of ability.  I have been to Denver on various trips but this was the first time I noticed I had trouble breathing at high altitude.  Perhaps the steep hill contributed.

At the summit, the tour guide said that the rest of the passengers were going on to visit waterfalls.  Would we like to pay extra and join them?  I was keen but Teddy was over the tourists.  On the way back we stopped at a winery to meet up with our car to take us back to San Jose.  The guide explained to the bus group that we were leaving so we left with Au Revoir, Ciao and Goodbye Y’alls.  Our car wasn’t there so the guide suggested that the rest of the group wine taste since we were waiting.  It was quite delicious for tropical wine – sweet and red.

While we were waiting, I had a long chat with the driver who only spoke Spanish.  He must have enunciated very well because I understood everything and was able to respond.  His son is a student in Indiana and they have to travel through Houston to visit.  The slightly hassled tour guide interrupted us to say that our driver was at another location closer to San Jose.  So…we had to get on the bus, listen to all the jokes (did you have a nice time in San Jose?) and then say goodbye all over again, about 20 minutes later.  Another couple were waiting to take our places and go to the waterfalls.  As someone who has worked in public and private transportation for years, I was terribly impressed by their efficiency (apart from one little blip).  I hope the new couple that joined the group enjoyed a wee chat…

Our new driver was content to put the radio on and drive swiftly back to San Jose.  That allowed my wolfman to chill out and enjoy the scenery.  It made us both realize that we prefer being travelers than tourists.  We rarely saw tourists near our hotel or in San Jose but it didn’t take away from a fantastic trip.

Poás Volcano National Park

This was my first trip to an active volcano – I was SO excited. The Poás Volcano, 31 steep miles from San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. It was active when we visited and was venting gas out of one the fissures.

The blue light was flashing on and off while we were there. If I read the instructions, it probably told us to go into the shelter if it was amber or red. It was a steep climb to the top of the volcano and I could feel my lungs straining. I am quite fit but my lungs are under par. Newly fit Teddy, who looks after wolves, could have strode ahead of me. I stayed behind to accompany a lady, in our group, who was much more disabled than me. She was able to get a park ambulance to ride back down to the parking area.

We were really lucky with the weather as the volcano is in the cloud cover but it was gloriously clear and sunny. It wasn’t hot at almost 9000 feet above sea level – 55 F/12 C. The weather in San Jose hovered around 85 F which was very pleasant.

The vegetation was tropically lush with strange plants that looked like rhubarb. I loved seeing the opaque light turquoise toxic water in the crater along with the stark strata of the rocks.

Isn’t nature wonderful?

The triffid ‘rhubarb’ plant is called a poor man’s umbrella. I finally identified it as Gunner Insignis – it is an ancient plant and this species is native to Central America. Loved the wall made of volcanic rock. We did see a green hummingbird at the animal sanctuary. More blogs to follow.

Pre-Colombian Art Museum, Costa Rica

It has been years since I browsed in a museum and this one in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, was a treat. The Pre-Colombian Gold Museum was located in a subterranean building beneath the very modern Plaza de la Cultura. Costa Rica is one of the Blue Zone countries were people live a long healthy life. I thought the scene with the undertaker was touching in it’s simplicity.

Understated but exquisite gold jewelry – you could wear it today.

The items above are inhalers – so much more fun than Vicks! Don’t commit any drug offences in present day Costa Rica, though. Very long jail sentences for offenders.

A handsome warrior modelling the neck ornaments and some very large ear plugs.

I really wanted to take the alligator incense burner home but I preferred my Radisson hotel room to a jail cell… Beneath is a ceremonial and intricately carved grinding metate for corn or other substances.

Above is an illustration of all the Costa Rican prehistoric animals. Look to the right – there is a giant sloth.

Plaza de la Cultura, San Jose, Costa Rica

Christmas Memories

Every Christmas, I create a little pink shrine in memory of my mum.  In another life she could have been an interior designer with a great eye for style.  Years ago we could only afford an artificial silver tree and simple baubles from Woolworths.  Somehow Kathleen, my mum, managed  to turn the tree into a work of art with a magical ‘snow’ village at the base.  I think she brought some unique ideas from her years living in the USA.  Over the years the tree became barer but she cleverly disguised this with silver tinsel.

After I was married, she gifted me all the original decorations except the pink and silver baubles.  My aunt in San Francisco had died and left her siblings a small legacy.  It was enough for my mum to buy new sofas, curtains and carpet for the living room.  It was a tasteful mix of pink and white – so the Christmas tree had to match.  My mum barely survived on a disability pension for her chronic mental illness.  Although I said nothing, I was irritated that she had spent all the legacy on luxury and didn’t save any of it.  It took me back to my teenage years when I used my scholarship money to buy the extended family gifts just to ‘save face’.  I felt that she should have at least offered me a part of the legacy (which I would have refused) to make up for the worst years of neglect.

I inherited the pink and white baubles after she died in 2002.  They included a hilarious yet sad collection of cigarette packets which she had covered in luminous white craft paper and wrapped in pink ribbon (to resemble tiny wrapped gifts).  At least there were no little miniature whisky bottles.  I am quite sentimental and our little tree is decorated with the old family decorations and others that we have collected on our travels.  There are red Peruvian engraved seed balls and little camels from Abu Dhabi.

I have some wonderful memories of Christmas, before and after my mum’s mental breakdown.  We lived with her mother, Nana, and she stabilized life.  Our whole extended family would gather on Christmas Day and it was really enjoyable, although there may have been the regular undercurrents at family reunions.  It couldn’t have been easy for a defeated married woman to live under her mother’s house again but they got on quite well given the circumstances.

One Christmas I caught them both laughingly knitting tiny clothes together.  I was chased up to bed but on the 25^th, I unwrapped a beautiful French baby doll with an adorable knitted layette.  The gift was ostensibly from Santa Claus but I had spotted the busy elves who made her clothes.  I wonder how many hours they spent knitting the layette with love and affection.

Another year, my mum, Nana and uncle (who still lived at home) collaborated on decorating a dolls house.  My mum flirted with carpet salesman to get sample books for tiny rooms.  My uncle put in electricity, then they fully decorated it with furniture and wallpaper.  It was occasionally a little fraught in our house with two adult siblings living together with their mother and ‘the child’, but they shared a delight in giving me the best Christmas they could.  Sometimes they could have been a bit more practical as I often had holes in the soles of my shoes, filled with cardboard.  In retrospect, my inner child would always have preferred the magical Christmas gifts.  My uncle was very good at paying for my expensive ‘special’ shoes since I was born with a club foot.

Then there were the bad years.  Nana had died and it was just me and Mum who was considerably more unwell.  Too much of our household income went on cigarettes and booze.  I was ashamed of our deteriorating situation and went to great lengths to save money for Christmas.  The gifts I received then were essentials – night wear, bath products, gloves and hats.  I have no memory of the gifts my mum and I exchanged at that time.  Eventually she stopped drinking but kept smoking and got her finances in order.  I was proud of her for achieving that but still resentful of the unhappy times.

I left home as soon as I could; met and married Teddy in under a year.  Miraculously, Christmas became delightful again.  Teddy and I are both only children, so we decided that we would always celebrate Christmas together – his mum and dad, my mum and us.  His parents were aware of the previous circumstances and were so generous.  For years there was a mountain of presents under the tree, many for my mum.  We reciprocated as best we could.  After a few years, I took over hosting Christmas and everyone traveled to our house.  My mum had started getting obsessive about having a perfect Christmas; it had to be the perfect Xmas pudding or side dish.  She relaxed when she was in my house and the vibe was calmer.  Then Teddy’s mum started behaving strangely with paranoia and obsessiveness.  It was the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease.  Around this time, I finally was diagnosed with a mental illness – a mixture of OCD, anxiety and depression.  Talk about a dysfunctional family!

I managed to keep up the tradition of family Christmas for about 20 years until my mum suddenly died.  To this day, I still feel relief that I don’t have to stress about Christmas.  All the planning would take a toll of my health.  Even arranging our simple Christmas decorations can wipe me out.  I do miss my mum but not at Christmas.  It is a struggle not to become morose, dwelling on some deeply unhappy occasions with too much liquor and harsh words.  Before she died, we spoke to each other every day.  I miss talking about simple stuff; shopping plans, what color suits me best, sharing gossip and her excellent advice (that she rarely followed).

I create the little pink shrine to honor her love for me and mine in return.  Both wavered at times but that’s life.  There is no need for forgiveness but sometimes I wish I could forget more.  Teddy and I still laugh at my mum’s craziness at Christmas time – we named her the Christmas Nazi.  To be honest, I have inherited her irritating ‘everything has to be perfect’ traits.  Learned or inherited; who knows?

If you take anything from this post, please to be kind to yourself.  No great expectations, lots of laughter to distract from uncomfortable family conversations and most of all LOVE.  It doesn’t matter if you are on your own, volunteering , going out to a swanky restaurant or surrounded by a gaggle of relatives.  Teddy will be volunteering with wolves on the 25^th and I will stay in my dressing gown all day.  We will watch a movie or two and eat too much sugar.

Rest in peace, my dear complicated and special mum.  May you be surrounded by beautiful pink baubles in the hereafter.

Mum on the right with her sister Gretta in Miami

The Critters were sad…

It was one dead animal too many and the time had come to deconstruct our deck. We loved that all the critters had a place to shelter but inevitably some crawled under and then passed over the rainbow bridge. I never thought I would have a use for all the terms I learned on the TV show CSI – Crime Scene Investigation, regarding decomposition. Three skunks, one squirrel and a raccoon leg – that’s almost a Christmas song…

When we moved into the shiny new house, 18 years ago, we were lucky enough to get one of the model homes. Granite countertops and fully landscaped back yard. It had grass that was utterly alien to me. In Scotland I had a yard the size of a field that I seeded and mowed. This Saint Augustine’s grass was as tough as old boots, killed the first lawnmower and had to go. We replaced the grass with little pebbles and bull rock and everything was wonderful. That is until, Toffee, our baby cat, decided that the little pebbles was ‘outside’ cat litter. She buried her poos, very carefully, but her toxic digestive system turned the rock green. We shared a parasite or two with the cats from Egypt.

What to do? We had a cat fence installed (think penitentiary boho chic) and then a deck within that area. The first deck was fantastic! The fence and cats prevented most visitors venturing under the deck. One special day, Mrs. Stripe touched noses with a Mama Raccoon – both were fascinated with each other. The deck lasted past the death of all three cats and the removal of the cat fence that was donated to an animal sanctuary. We lovingly maintained and painted it to match the house. Then the harsh Texas elements started to destroy the wood and the first critter died under it.

Our handyman deconstructed the much larger, original, deck and built a newer, smaller deck. It was nice but never quite as perfect as the first one. Every time the planks had to be removed (for locating dead bodies) and then replaced, it took a toll on the deck wood. When we were younger, it didn’t seem such a big deal; hilarious even. I managed to retrieve the squirrel corpse with yoga poses and a stick. Now there is not enough Celebrex in the world to make me bend like that.

We thought that the original concrete deck might be damaged but it was almost perfect. Manuel power-washed it and it looked amazing. Then our gardener came in and reset all the original boulders, graded the ground, replaced the little pebbles, added some rock and new cedar mulch. Teddy took me out for lunch and took a shot of me, below, in the perfect new yard. Teddy refers to my spotted Calvin Klein coat as my ‘Bet Lynch’ coat…only the Brits will get that but substitute any reality housewife. I have since painted the deck with stain called ‘Adobe’ and it looks exactly as it sounds.

But the critters were sad. Our beloved ‘Tail’ family of squirrels disappeared during the construction. They all had a genetic abnormality with their tails – we called them ‘Half’, ‘Three Quarters’ and the original girl, ‘Tail’. Naming animals is not our forte – we had one cat called Puss. We missed our little friends but then a new family moved in – the Floofs! They have full fluffy tails, glossy fur and bright white spots on their ears. Unlike our ‘Tails’, they run away when I open the door to give them peanuts but soon return. Then, one happy day last week, ‘Three Quarters’ returned! She sat and waited as I found a snack for her. We keep hoping that all the Tails return.

All three of our Egyptian cats are buried in our garden. I hope they approve of the new garden. RIP baby cats.

Toffee on our mantelpiece

Mrs. Stripe, the matriarch

Zhenny at 2 years old in Cairo

A Gentle Autumn

Teddy and I went out to lunch in our township’s downtown. This is the view from the bridge above the canal. Fall comes gently in the south, if we are lucky. When there is a hurricane, all the leaves are blown away.

Yesterday I visited our pond across the road and it was bitterly cold. This beautiful heron was hunting in the marsh.

Every so often there is an odd tree or bush that is vividly colored and gives a real autumnal pop!

The sun was shining on the water but they avoided the cold water. They always wag their tails like dogs when they see me. I am just as happy to see them. If only I had a tail…

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

This one’s for the boys…

… and all the lady train geeks like me! The bright red engine looks so festive. We often put my husband’s childhood train set around the bottom of the Christmas tree. Below is the historic sign for the beautiful art deco but defunct train station in Galveston, Texas. Much like parts of Britain, many train lines were discontinued when cars where in common use. Our township is surrounded by train lines but they only carry freight these days. It’s quite normal to wait for 20 minutes for a train to pass with endless freight carriages. I still love the sound of a train whistle on a quiet night.

As you can see, it was part of the Santa Fe railroad network. As a child, I watched so many American movies with trains, especially Westerns. Just the name Santa Fe Railroad gives me goosebumps, imagining the vistas as you crossed prairie and mountains. We live between Houston and Dallas, and Amtrak still runs passenger trains between the cities. The nearest working station is 40 miles away from us so I doubt we will ever use the current train system.

The museum had ‘populated’ the station with plaster model passengers and it helped to show how glamorous the train station was back in it’s hey day. There are some beautiful art deco buildings and hotels in Galveston – it’s amazing that they have survived so many hurricanes.

The mail sorting rail car was the most exciting part of the museum. It was so perfectly restored after Hurricane Ike damaged it. I loved the idea that the train didn’t have to stop while picking up the mail – and wondered if this technique ever failed!

The Route of the Zephyrs sounds like a dream. I have flown over all of these places and visited some of them. It’s certainly a fascinating view of the vast differences in American landscapes. From steamy, subtropical Houston to pretty Denver surrounded by snow-tipped mountains. Amarillo is my favorite place on the list with the best canyon in Texas.

As we approach Remembrance Day or Veteran’s Day as it is known in the US, on Friday 11th November, may we remember all the servicemen and women who perished in war.

Holy Shrimp Boats!

Do you see the name of the boat? It is named after our current Roman Catholic Pope, Francis II – the first Pope to hail from the Americas. Argentina, to be precise. This is the harbor at a magical little fishing port, Palacios about halfway between Houston and Corpus Christi, Texas. The majority of the population is Hispanic, some white and minority of Vietnamese who migrated to Palacios for the shrimping. The names of the boats reflected their heritage.

If you zoom in on this boat coming into harbor, you will see that the owner is Vietnamese. He was waving at us very enthusiastically as we snapped images of him. It was the end of a very long shift for him and hopefully a good catch. Palacios is not a tourist trap so perhaps he was intrigued by the Paparazzi. Our respective grandparents were farmers and fishermen, so we are drawn to working harbors and the countryside.

Why does he always walk into my shots???

We stopped at the pretty main drag to get a lovely cup of coffee. I have a theory about why coffee tastes so much better in remote places. The water is better and the milk fresher, perhaps? Some of the cafes we stopped at have a Mission connection to a small coffee farm in Latin America. Coffee that’s good for your soul. In the school vacations I used to see groups of Texan youth going to Missions in remote places of central America – better than playing video games all summer.

The boat’s names were an intriguing mix of Texican, Spanish and Vietnamese. Palacios has been home to the indigenous Karanwaka natives, then the Spanish conquistadors, French and finally the other Europeans. It is satisfying to see that Vietnamese refugees found a new community in the most unlikely of places.

Then I spotted this random dude that I fancied… I am so proud of my Teddy for losing all his excess weight and getting healthy. He is easy on the eyes too. 💗

Knitted Pantaloons

I was all set, getting ready to leave the house to go to the Dentist. Then I saw a flicker of gray in the garden and crept to the window. It was a juvenile Cooper’s Hawk, resplendent in knitted pantaloons. If I was little, I would ask my Nana to knit me a stuffed Hawk just like this one.

The Juvenile was very skittish and as I went to get my camera out of the drawer, I noticed a squirrel staring intently at the hawk from the fence. Part of me wanted to warn the squirrel but I really wanted a photograph… We have plenty of squirrels and this one was curious, not scared! Baby Cooper posed so nicely for me, showing off her fabulous plumage. I need to get an outfit of taupe and steel gray now.

Eventually, I made a noise as I was trying to poke the camera through the Venetian blinds and the hawk flew off straight into the squirrel. My heart was in my mouth wondering what would happen next but the feisty squirrel fluffed up her fur like a cat and terrified Baby Cooper. They eat much smaller prey than squirrels. Our squirrel stood her ground, saying, “That is MY Nut Mom and MY garden.”

Please come visit us again, little hawk! I want to see those yellow feet…and those fluffy pantaloons.

EXCITING UPDATE

When I went out on the walking path yesterday, I met Baby Cooper! She sat in her tree while I have a one side conversation with her. There is an open invitation for her to visit my yard.

Clouds and Water

I thought it was snowing on the way to Rockport, Texas. That was very unlikely given the 100 F temperature. To my intense excitement, it was little bits of cotton in the air. The fields were full of cotton crop or wrapped bales. The pink wrapper is in honor of a cotton farmer’s wife who died of breast cancer.

This is the sky at sunrise over the bay. The dark clouds just disappeared even though they briefly promised water in a drought…

An almost empty beach at Mustang Island State Park. Even though it was early in the morning, it was too hot, with warnings to stay inside because of the high UV.

Sunrise sparkling on the dock in Fulton. The sentinels are brown pelicans, getting in some early fishing before the dolphins arrived.

A fishing chair outside our hotel at Port Lavaca, looking onto Matagorda Bay. I lived dangerously and went beyond the sign – nothing happened. When I looked at the sign later, I noted the last sentence. Alligators, methinks! There was also an oyster bed to the left of the chair.

Happy memories of summer although it is still 98 F here – longing for a real Fall.