Floating along...

Back in the land of the busy consumers, trying to readjust. I am looking out at another cool and rainy "summer" day in Rhode Island. (Photo of cold spring runoff still running off over the dam in Maine last week.) When our plane landed three weeks ago it seemed like only the portion of me that had fully arrived was the part that had her passport stamped. Slowly, slowly, the rest of me is starting to show up. But all seems a bit tilted. Walking the familiar sands of Second Beach which I have known and loved for over 40 years even seems a bit off. The color green dominates the landscape but it is not the same luscious green my eyes are used to watching explode in the tropical heat. The sky is blue and the clouds are white but neither are as brilliantly so. The color of the sand is brown-ish, definitely not the white shelly sand of Conchal or even the browner shades of Tamarindo. These sands have been formed by a different breed of elements tumbled smooth and tiny by the Atlantic, which is of a colder hue itself and feels less friendly to my bare feet. The shells I scan as I walk along are jingle shells, scallops and moon snails, not the puca shells, olives or screw augers I have perused on my beach walks in the previous months of this year. (Photo of moon jelly in much warmer waters.)

*

I got in my Japanese-made mini van and gave thanks to the God of Craigs List that we were unable to sell it last year before we left, try as we did. Backing out of my brother's paved driveway for the first time onto a smooth road I said to the kids, "It feels like we are floating!" I count my blessings every time I get in it and scan the back-up camera, glancing at the kids in my rear view mirror with their alien head sets, silently tuning in to a movie. I adjust the lumbar support in my leather seat and think I could happily live in its heated and air conditioned comfort forever. This one vehicle offers more comfort and features than our whole house in Costa Rica. Arigato Toyota.

*

Pressing "agree", I searched through the radio options and re-programmed my favorites on my car computer where they conveniently reside under the GPS map. Recalling how a radio search in Costa Rica often led to not even one station stop, I bid a fond farewell to Radio Doce and all those blasts from my past - it's National Public Radio from here on out for my brain stimulation as I float along oblivious to even the price of gas. As happy as I am to hear the familiar voices of Tom Ashcroft and Terry Gross providing intellectual fodder, I did have to pause and wonder at the all-to familiar commercial heard hourly - what exactly is the Herman Miller Aeron chair they are still incessantly advertising anyway? So I looked it up.

*

Apparently it is the best office chair. Ever. It comes in your choice of nine fancy names for black and 13 fabric styles. You can swivel in luxurious ergonomic comfort on its sturdy graphite base, having just spent hundreds more dollars on your office chair than the average Nicaraguan makes in one year. Fabulous. I am getting one. Maybe two. It is difficult, after all, to decide between carbon or hematite. The website claims the name is synonymous with social responsibility so perhaps I can use the free shipping option to send the extra one to some poor Nico struggling to sit under his zinc roof at the Managua dump, Casa Dolce Casa, in the poorest nation in the western hemisphere. I can even order it in Espanol. Who knew there was a website called Sit4Less where the fabulously low "right" price is only $649?

*

I might get the foot rest with built-in massage balls while I am at it. All that lower back support will eliminate my need for stomach muscles, which are hard enough to come by at my age with my overtaxed uterus which has been fully inflated seven times. We all know how a balloon looks after you blow it up repeatedly... And those massage balls will conveniently replace my need to actually get out of my fancy chair and take a real walk, say barefoot - on a beach. I could probably hang a picture of seashells above my desk or a verdant tropical scene, sprinkle some sand between my toes, and really get my money's worth. I could sit all day in virtual peace with true comfort only one of 103 revolutions of "geometrical tilt tension based on natural human body linkages" away. Wow. Finally a real life use of geometry. I knew I should have paid closer attention in tenth grade.

*

Anyway, for now I will enjoy the lower back support of my heated leather minivan seat instead. It may not have a lightweight and breathable Pellicle fabric back to it but it does have arm rests. And it cost me over 60 times as much as that designer chair anyway.

*

K3

*

P.S. Okay history buffs, pay attention. Here's a newsflash from here in the smallest state with the maybe soon-to-be-shortened longest name.

*

How many of you know that the Ocean State was granted its charter by King Charles II in 1663 to become the State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations? Or that the latter portion of this auspicious title bears reference to the large land holdings on the mainland across the water from this fair island on which I now sit and type? Or that this island upon which I write is the original "Rhode Island" referred to in said charter? It was named the Island of Rhodes upon discovery by the Italian explorer Verrazzano Island 500 years ago because it reminded him of its namesake island back home in the Mediterranean. Roger Williams saw fit to change it to the Island of Rodes, dropping the "h" in reference to the Greek word meaning "roses" which he must have found here in abundance as Rosa rugosa, beach rose, still thrives here and sweetens our salty air. This island is now commonly called Aquidneck Island to avoid the inevitable confusion folks from afar understandably have regarding whether or not our little state is an island.

*

Well, it seems some people are offended by the reference to the word "plantations" in our State's title. They consider it a throwback to slavery. And while little Rhody was indeed a major player in the slave trade and efforts are currently underway to make reparations for the vast fortunes amassed on that historic front by families like the Browns and DeWolfs, the word in this instance is actually innocent of all such connotations. However, our venerable leaders have voted to put the State-formerly-known-as ballot measure before us citizens re said moniker for next year's election. They propose we agree to become quite simply, the State of Rhode Island. Period. And the originator of the legislation has stated, "It's got nothing to do with Barack Obama." As if. While I am all for simplification, I do think this is taking things a bit far. Our little State has been well served by our big name for hundreds of years. I see no need to change that.

Adios Amigos

Two chestnut mandibled toucans and one large green macaw named Fred are squawking outside our hotel room as I type my final farewell to this country we have called home for the past 10 months. It is with great sadness for us all that our time has drawn to a close for now.

*

We spent our final weekend on the beautiful ranch of our friends, Finca de Imagines, and enjoyed the pastoral views of hundreds of healthy cows grazing and tens of horses cantering in the fresh green grasses brought by the welcome drops of the rainy season. We toured around and admired the primary and secondary tropical forestland, the canopy interrupted now and again by the spectacular green roundness of one individual who had managed to grow tall above the others and now commanded the best view to the ocean beyond. Midge and Brock are determined to protect these forests and are demonstrating to their neighbors that grasses for grazing the cows so loved by the Guanecastican ranchers actually grow best in the shade and the cows are happier out of the sun as well. This is an important lesson for a country of cowboys who have often been encouraged by their government to clear the rainforest for grazing.

*

Back at the hacienda, the bromeliads and epiphytes burdening the ancient spreading arms of huge mangos in the yard attract a whole host of birds, leafcutter ants, and mariposas like the blue morpho to the rotting fruit beneath, each tree representing an entire ecosystem. I never tire of watching the lines of leaf cutters marching so precisely down the tree trunk and across the yard, each holding its own impossibly large sail of green leaf overhead on its long journey traversing a well-worn path back to the nest. Every so many of these leafy sails carried the tiny, minimus ants riding shotgun and protecting the burdened worker below from a wasp that likes to land on the leaf and lay its egg in the ant's head where the larvae will grow into its brain and kill its ant host before emerging to fly away. Yuck. These are amazing insects who compost the leaves in their enormous underground nests to grow a tiny fungus which feeds the colony. When a new queen emerges and leaves her birthplace to start a new colony she carries with her a tiny bit of this vital fungus, like the sourdough starter the Oregon trail brides carried across country to nourish their new lives in the unknown wilds of the west.

*

I bathed in one of two rivers that traverses their land, cooling the roots of the trees and watering its wildlife, while we watched hopefully for a spider monkey to come swinging through the limbs above. We kept our eyes open to the possibility of seeing the scarlet macaws who fly through the area on occasion but they went unseen by us as well.

*

Bella had her first horseriding experience on Gringo, a cinnamon colored mare, and Isaiah got back on the proverbial horse after his last bad experience riding with the older kids on Playa Conchal at Christmas time. Happily, his gentle steed restored his confidence. Senor Chino, as he is affectionately known, is retired now from his days of carrying all the ranch kids to school and patiently waiting outside the windows while they learned to read and write before bearing them all home again. Nowadays he is called into service from the pasture only on occasion to recall his days as the local school bus. I rode with Bella awhile and then we mercifully let the big kids go off on a longer, faster ride without us. It lifted my heart to see Christiana and Micah riding away with Kerry and Stewart with such a sense of confidence and freedom. Midge and I unsaddled the sweaty old timers and they perked up immediately, kicking up their heels and skipping off to join the herd with a friskiness they never dared show while we were onboard, lest we get the wrong idea. Clearly they had learned to work smarter, not harder, in their years of handling humans.

*

It was a lovely place to end our time here on the "island." Micah will be staying on with Kerry and his family for another week or so and then they both will join us on our temperate island. The rest of us sat in the heat of the outdoor jacuzzi last night to ease the chill from the San Jose altitude and sipped on a cool drink while reminiscing about our year here with awe and sadness. It has been an amazing experience in so many different ways. The kids have all grown and matured and are returning back to the States healthy and taller with Spanish words in their brains and stellar school transcripts. We are thankful that nobody was injured or bit by a snake and have only the one scorpion tale from Micah to tell. Everyone made such great friends and we have met so many interesting people that we must figure out how to return very soon. I am very thankful for the time I had away from the usual distractions to pursue my lifelong dream of writing a book. I hope someday it will be published. Then perhaps I can revisit the subjects of this lovely land and write about the wildlife, the people, the beaches, and the rainforests of this country and the wonder of experiencing it all with my family for a year.

*

So, for now, Hasta Luego, Amigos. Know that we will miss you all but carry you in our hearts and minds and conversations until we meet again.

*

Mucho Gracias por todos. Amor Y Besos.

*

K3

Life is a beach

Happiest when sand is between my toes, I love to walk the beach, any beach, and have spent years of my life on the sands of beaches from Rhode Island to Oregon; from Portugal to Costa Rica. I have never lived far from the salty water I crave. With Hannah home here to visit we decided to move to a house on Tamarindo beach to live out our last days in our year of Pura Vida. It has been a great move. We enjoyed the final days and evenings before the move on the white sandy beaches of Playa Conchal swimming in her turquoise waters so clear you could see the sand between your toes. I had one evening swim with my three oldest children and one with my two oldest daughters that will take a permanent spot in my memory bank.

*

In between houses we took all the kids on a road trip down south to Uvita where we have owned property for several years now. It is a much greener and lush part of the Pacific coast where the jungle meets the sea and the Ticos still outnumber the Gringos in a positive kind of ratio that lends to a more tranquillo life. We had the run of a lovely new house overlooking the sea where we sat around the dinner table enraptured by the tales of our host who has experienced life to the fullest in his travels from Africa to the Amazon.

*

"You haven't lived until you have heard a hyena laughing outside your ring of fire," he told our captive ears.

*

So, we have not. Lived. Yet.

*

We took the five kids on a trip out to Canos Island which lies some 15 miles off the coast and is a gem. We took a panga, which is a small boat with an outboard and a canopy used by most fishermen here, down the many miles of mangrove lined Sierpe River until we reached the sea. Crossing the bar proved to be a rail gripping ordeal as we exited the river at low tide which meant there was a line of towering waves marching towards us between where we were and our open sea destination beyond. Walter, our driver, who looked about 15 but was probably 30 in true Tico fashion, expertly assessed the breaking waves and kept us jockeying for position until we could get past the white water.

*

"Here we learn to drive a boat before we can ride a bike," our guide Michael explained to ease my white knuckled grip on Bella's life jacket.

*

Once safely on the open ocean our boat, which seemed so natural in the river, suddenly felt very inadequate. We beat our way across the advancing swells towards the island which lay far in the distance. When we were nearing the island we came upon a pod of spotted dolphins, some of which were sleeping. They woke up, leaping into the air and entertaining us all, except Isaiah, who was feeling a bit sick by then and laid down in the merciful lull while we watched them.

*

Once we could see the line of palm trees backed by the thick jungle of the uninhabited island I started to scan the sky, certain that I would see a flock of pterodactyls circling overhead. Canos is part of a chain of offshore islands that includes Cocos and the Galapagos which lie off the Pacific coast, the former being where they filmed Jurassic Park. Indeed, as we approached the island the theme music played in our brains and it felt very familiar from having watched those films multiple times. We snorkeled before converging on the beach for lunch with a small fleet of fellow snorkel and dive boats. The undersea life was lovely. We saw schools of bonita, yellow tailed surgeons, and our goal for the day, a shark. The trip home was also through a pod of dolphins, but crossing the bar at high tide with the surf was easy. Late afternoon on the river brought out the monkeys, howlers and white-faced capucins, and we saw cool bats (photo) and the piece-de-resistance, three scarlet macaws. Fabulous.

*

Upon our return we loaded up the Black Panther a couple of times and moved to Tamarindo beach where I am sadly typing out my last morning. Usually we are woken up by howlers in the green space next door and we have had our encounters with bold raccoons partying on our porch all night long. Andy tried to speak to them politely in his best raccoon, which must ultimately be like his best Spanish, as instead of leaving they simply moved their dancing onto the metal roof. One afternoon a band of howlers ran across said roof creating a surprisingly loud cacophany and jumped into the matapalo tree which abuts our porch. We sat in our rocking chairs and watched about 20 of them munching away for happy hour a few feet in front of us (photo). Yesterday I got in the shower and looked out the large window next to me into the watching eyes of a howler hanging from her tail happily eating the yellow flowers growing between us. Magic. I cleaned and she ate and we parted company feeling mutually satisfied.

*

In a few minutes I am going to take my final early morning beach walk down to the estuary with my friends - the ladies of Tamarindo. Yesterday Susan and I passed a herd of about 20 cows strolling down the beach, a Tico moment etched in my brain but unfortunately not on my camera. The day before we sat in the estuary with Midge and a pink roseate spoonbill flew between us and an impossibly blue sky - fabulous. These ladies have lived here since Andy and I first arrived on this beach in 1987 and it is always enlightening to hear their stories of this town that has changed so much in the interim. Some things are eternal, fortunately - the line of palms on the beach, the flocks of birds and crocs in the estuary, the eternal sunshine and warmth we will miss. I eye my one pair of jeans which have sat in my closet all year along with my capris and short sleeved shirts and socks and fleece, all of which have way too much fabric to even consider putting on my body here. Even shorts are too confining in the heat. Reluctantly I have placed these strangers in the bottom of my bag, scrolling forward to the day which rapidly approaches when I will be frantically digging them out in the coolness of June in New England.

*

Soon the sand between my toes will be replaced by little balls of cotton which rub off my socks. The last of my footprints on these sands will be washed away by the relentless incoming tide and new ones will appear in my wake. My friends here on the beach will greet the new faces of this place which sees so many footprints come and go. And I, in turn, will sink my feet into newly familiar grains of sand which have been tumbled and polished by the waters of a different shore.

*

K3

Happy Birthday Noah!

Today is our son Noah's birthday. He would be 13. We have not seen or held him since he was one. Twelve years have passed since the day we celebrated his first and only birthday. Twelve years since his brother and sisters helped him blow out one candle on a cupcake. Twelve long years yet some day soon twenty two years will have gone by. Tempis Fugit.

*

Today Hannah is flying here for two weeks and we are all so excited to see her! She turned 20, as I blogged, a month ago and we will bake her a cake and eat chicken, again, as Bella points out often. After Hannah leaves we will only have one week left of our life here in Costa Rica. School gets out June 5 and we are now trying to put the brakes on the clock, which keeps its own pace. We have met so many great people here and do not want to say goodbye. Second and third thoughts cloud every daily event.

*

Saturday I completed my scuba course! This time dolphins escorted us on the way out, leaping into the air and landing with a happy splash, and the mighty Pacific was as calm as a lake - perfect diving conditions. After swallowing a few moments of Panic - Remembered, I managed to concentrate on Hannah, the instructor, and not on the fear rising from my belly as I descended. "Do this for Noah and Jonah," I said to myself as the day fell in between their two birthdays and I found myself busy looking at nudibranchs in the clear and incredibly blue water around us. We completed my original dream of diving as a family, Andy, Christiana and I, and saw some very cool creatures - blue tunicates, moral and jeweled moray eels, a white tipped shark, a seahorse, spiny lobster, a spotted eagle ray, blue and red sea stars, octopus, and a fabulous assortment of fish including moorish idols, rainbow parrots, king angels, and my favorite bright blue juvenile damsels. It was fun, as it is supposed to be, and I am looking forward to going again before we leave.

*

Yesterday we went to Agam's 4th birthday party. (photo) Agam is Bella's Israeli friend and we admire her beautiful family. Agam's brother Afik and sister Ella are at CDSG with the other kids. We had a delicious spread of middle eastern food and I loved listening to them sing Happy Birthday in Hebrew and carry Agam around in her little chair in celebration with another song. It was a fabulous cross-cultural event with people speaking Spanish, Russian, Hebrew, and English that i heard. One of the things I love about being here and will miss greatly!

*

But the most meaningful encounter I had was meeting Candy, a stately, red-headed woman from South Africa who has lived here for many years now with her Argentinian husband. She has a beautiful family with one daughter, the youngest, and three older brothers. I could not help noticing, as always, that one of her sons was named Noah and was almost the age of our Noah. We started talking with the usual conversation here, which is where are you from, where do you live, where do your kids go to school, how long have you been here, but were interrupted.

*

A little while later I was in the pool and she sought me out to ask about my family. Forever after I buried my sons this is a conversation I tend to avoid. Usually to no avail. What is the correct answer to "How many children do you have?" when the conversation is casual. How many times can you answer "five," when the correct answer is "seven," to avoid the inevitable but negate your son's existences? It is always a quandary for me. Candy pressed on. I noticed a slight belly on her tall, lithe frame and wondered if she were pregnant and if that was where we were headed. I wish that were so. As the conversation unfolded her need was revealed as she told me she had lost her second daughter, her fifth child, the week before Christmas.

*

Candy and her husband, a doctor in Sta Cruz, live purposely in this country and in the bush for purity and peace. They don't believe in vaccinations and she never even uses Baygon, the lethal spray people here use like room freshener to battle nature in thir homes. But their neighbor rented out his land to a large scale rice farmer who has been spraying chemicals on his fields and they have been the unwitting recipients of his overspray, which has landed on them, their house, and their land. She was poisoned along with the rice pests and her baby died six months in utero. Their plants withered and their cows and six horses died, one of which also aborted her foal.

*

This is a sad tale of environmental degradation and its human and inhumane consequences. We feed ourselves at our own peril. This farmer is within his rights here in the third world to spray his chemicals which have been banned in the US for safety and health consequences but are still manufactured by our homegrown wealthy chemical giants and sold to countries like this one instead. It is wrong. It is a crime. It is legal. And the results are tragic. In Nicaragua generations of cane workers are dying of kidney failure from chemical poisoning in the fields they must work to survive. Here in the land of eco-everything they use more agricultural chemicals than anywhere else in Central America, says one statistic. Bananas, rice, sugar cane, pineapple, melons - all brought to you by the good grace and giant bank accounts of chemicals that can kill you. Eat up! Perhaps it is best to stick with cheeseburgers in paradise.

*

Tonight we will skip the rice and eat cake in celebration of the births of Hannah and Noah. And I will think about this sweet baby girl who was whisked away from the weeping eyes and pain-wracked body of her mother by well-meaning but ignorant nurses before she could be properly adored and memorized. Her name is Makeba and she is buried on her family's land in Costa Rica. Next door the plows are tilling the soil after the first rains in preparation for planting the new rice crop. She is named for Miriam Makeba who sang about Mama Africa for the last time in November of last year. Baby Makeba's song was silenced before it began, drowned by the sounds of a crop duster wiping her life from our planet while her family's tears water her grave.

*

K3

Happy Moth-ers Day!

Here's a special moth and a bad pun for all you moms out there on moth-ers day! Andy found it in Uvita a few weeks ago. And, a butterfly on Bella, of course. One of the nice things about living here is that we have two mother's days! Costa Rica celebrates on August 15 so we arrived to that unexpected holiday last summer. As a staunchly Catholic country, they have chosen this holy day of obligation - the Assumption of Mary - as the day to honor their Mothers. This is believed to be the day when Mary was assumed into heaven - body and soul - on the 40th day after her death and is one of the essential beliefs of the Catholic faith - that the Blessed Virgin Mary's body was not allowed to corrupt nor to lie in a tomb, a symbol of the promise Jesus gave that we will all be received into paradise. Here in Costa Rica on August 15 mothers prepare to receive tv's and appliances, the mark of true appreciation for mom in this culture.
*

I am not Catholic, but there's your lesson for the day anyway. I am Metholic, having been raised both Methodist and Catholic all my life. I have always admired the Catholic faith for its unique reverence for Mary, the mother of God. I know about the BV's heavenly birthday because we buried our son Noah twelve years ago on August 15, unaware that here in Costa Rica mom's were busy cleaning out the old refrigerator in preparation for the new one. Noah was not assumed, as far as we know. He was cremated and we planted him around the planet instead. But he is remembered by me on Mother's Day, whatever day it falls on, as well as every other day.

*

I had a great Mom's day yesterday. A bunch of families from the school descended on the new JW Marriott hotel near Tamarindo where we spent Saturday night. We enjoyed each other's company in the huge pool, took long beach walks, slept in their comfy beds, relaxed in the bathtub and the hot tub, and ate way too many french fries. They have a great kid's club and the little kids had 20 or 30 friends to play with. The big kids chose not to join us as their friends were in a fashion show in Tamarindo Saturday night at a club, but not a kid's club. They were modeling retro clothing from all the way back in the '90's! You know you're old when... I could have given them all kinds of things from that decade as I believe I am still wearing them! So that pretty much dates my wardrobe. I may even have something from the '80's, before most of my kids were even born!

*

Friday afternoon we took the teacher's on an appreciation sunset cruise to mark the end of the school year. We sailed on a large catamaran with an open bar and pretty good guacamole to Playa Huevos, which probably was not named for chicken eggs. As soon as we dropped anchor we strapped on our snorkel gear and headed over to the shoreline. There we spent a good hour or more with Kim and Diver Dan Baldwin, two of the school's science teacher's exraordinaire, while they found creature after creature for us to examine. We played with a beautiful purple and orange sea star, a pencil urchin, a very cool arrow crab with a bright yellow mouth and were entertained by a spiny brittle star which undulated all around our hands. Underwater we found a jeweled moray eel hanging with a scorpion fish, lots of bright blue juvenile damsels, a few dainty butterfly fish, a hawkfish, and I followed a lovely spotted eagle ray. It was a great day spent with the fun faculty and great parents we have met here. We will miss them all.

*

Well, I hope all you moths and mothers had a great day yesterday. If not, August is coming.

*

K3

*

PS My blog is being featured this week in Travelblogs.com! Welcome all you travel blogs readers, enjoy! Thanks Eric! And congratulations on your new baby and to your wife on her first Mother's Day!!

Happy Birthday Micah!

Micah is 16, it's official. For two days now... He can't drive here in Costa Rica yet, but he can drink! Yes, you can drink before you can drive. Just not in quick succession, you should wait a year or two. Here he is in a rare appearance with clothes on before a school dance. The jacket did not even make it out the car door.

*

It is the rainy season again here, though a much friendlier version than October. The air has become heavy and the mornings are sunny but the clouds build all day and the thunder threatens in the distance by sunset, alternating with the howlers who like to sing at dusk and dawn. The lightning shows have been great entertainment and the rain usually follows, clearing the air for sleeping.

*

On Micah's big day Wednesday we picked the kids up from school after sports and headed to Tamarindo. It was humid and overcast all day. Micah wanted to eat at Mama's Deli and we sat at a table on the beach as the day drew to a close. I should mention here that Mama is the Mama of Geronimo, Bella's first boyfriend who was present and showing off for her with his friends in their boxers. Clothing is kept at a minimum here in the tropics, which makes it a lovely place for a 16 year old boy. Even I, after 7 kids, have brought my belly out of hiding and put it back in the public domain, for better or worse. Even a lined bathing suit has too much fabric for comfort!

*

Christiana and Micah went for a run down the beach and Bella and I walked in the water. We converged back at the table for drinks and a salad when suddenly the bright orange sun dropped below the clouds and melted into the ocean. Too bad I didn't have my camera, but if you've seen one sunset, you know... With the end of the sun the mosquitoes descended so we decided to move to a table under cover off the ground. As we were eating our pasta the skies opened up and it started pouring rain which was heavenly! Fiesta! Fortunately we did not leave the cake out in the rain, ahem, and we sang Feliz Cumpleanos with a chorus of falling agua and ate cake with a cool mist on our skin.

*

Someday soon I may live to regret singing the praises of rain, but after so many months without

even one cloud in the blue sky it is a refreshing change of pace. That is human nature, is it not? We always seem to desire that which we do not have, be it weather or food or that someone special in our lives. I am not sure why it is our nature to be discontent and we struggle all our lives to overcome that with various prescriptions for counting our blessings. But it is. Start counting when you forget. But don't count your blessings before they hatch!

*

Back to one of my blessings, Micah. He has had a great year here at the Country Day School as a sophomore. Next year he will return to St. Georges, which granted him only year's absence, and he is excited to switch back from being a Pirate to a Dragon once more. He will be in the dreaded Junior year and that might be tougher than usual following a year in the tropics. He is a smart boy, though, and if he applies himself he should do fine. He has had near perfect grades this year and his Spanish has improved greatly. He is swimming now, which warms my heart to see, as well as playing basketball. For his birthday all he wants to do is rent a Yet Sky, which is what they advertise of the beach for waverunners, so on Mothers Day he and his friends will be speeding thru the turquoise waters of Playa Conchal below us here. We rented them one other time at Easter when our friends were visiting. I took one ride with Andy and it gave me an instant headache. He should enjoy these things while he is still young.

*

I labored for two days with Micah, the primogenitor, to convince him to enter this world and he is still not one who rushes into new situations. He has always liked to know what the plan is beforehand and has stood back and observed before deciding to enter into new situations or not while his big sisters sallied forth. He loves music of all kinds, including from the Broadway musicals we have seen. He has learned a lot about history this year with Mr. Berey who had them do very creative assignments such as making a CD of songs that represented different historical events, planning an entire trip around the world given certain parameters, and reenacting WW2 battles on the beach. He aced Chemistry thanks to the enthusiasm of Mrs. Baldwin and had a very insightful year in English with Miss Brigin who encouraged them all to EMBRACE their education. Indeed.

*

As Mother's Day approaches I am thankful, indeed, for my many blessings. Happy Birthday Micah, and many more...

*

K3

Labor Day

Well, we had yet another Costa Rican excuse to go to the beach this past long weekend - Labor Day. It appears that on May 1 while we were dancing around the May Poles of our youth with images of flowers and flowing skirts in our heads and Ring around the Rosie on our voices, much of the rest of the world had morphed the pagan rite of Spring into a celebration of workers (trabajadors) and the advent of labor unions.

*

So we joined them all at the beach after only a half day of school on Thursday. On Friday Isaiah had a birthday pool party to attend and we whiled away the afternoon playing Scrabble with friends while the kids swam. Micah went to his friend's ranch for the weekend and rode on an intense water slide, shot a pistol, and watched a cow give birth. Saturday I took Isaiah and Bella to a new Marriott with a large group of our friends from school to play in their enormous pool on the beach while Christiana took her SAT's. And Sunday we had our final open water dives scheduled for our scuba certification.

*

After a day of blessed cloudiness on Saturday night it rained for the first time since early November, if you don't count one brief and spontaneous shower we had a month or so ago... We have rarely even seen one cloud in the sky since the deluge of the rainy season ended around my birthday last year. But after the hottest of days and the building of heat and clouds for the past two weeks, the skies finally opened up with a full performance of thunder and lightning and the power went out and the unfamiliar smell of wet dust and dirt filled our nostrils while our ferocious guard dog, Duncan, cowered inside at our feet. After recovering from the initial shock of falling agua, we quickly scurried about shutting car windows, moving furniture, picking clothes off the line, then pinched ourselves and settled down to play cards by candlelight and head lamps.

*

We have avoided using the global warming machines in our house, air conditioning, for most of our 8 months or so here but the past few weeks have found us holed up inside feeling guilty for suddenly cancelling out on our outdoor living while the cooling machines hummed away and ruined the future of the planet for the sake of our short term comfort. It was just too hot to think and the sweat dripped off even my fingertips as I typed. One day the week before last I think I hit the apex of the heat when I shut myself in my bedroom with my laptop and 100 Years Of Solitude, finally able to think only with the refreshing electric coolness blowing over me. With the rain, the temperatures have thankfully dropped and the howlers are happy to have freshly rinsed meals after wearing their teeth down by chewing on leaves coated with road dust for months now.

*

Sunday when we awoke it was still cloudy and sprinkling but we set off bright and early to dive anyway. Andy had taken sea sickness medication, luckily, as it was rough with large swells as soon as we hit open water. Our destination was the Catalina Islands, about 30 minutes or so off the coast. All year we have been looking at this group of big rocks sticking up in the ocean and now, at last, we were to see them up close and personal. Like everything on and in the sea, they looked closer than they were and one clearly could not kayak out to them, as some guest or other had once inquired. We arrived at the 2 largest islands and prepared ourselves to step off the boat. Both are major bird rookeries but interestingly only one is covered in cactus while the other had nothing but scrubby grass, causing much speculation as to why.

*

The waves were crashing on the rocks when we entered the water and split up into 3 groups of divers. Andy, Christiana and I were in a group of 6 with 2 friends and Julian, one of our instructors. As soon as we got in the water the boat backed away, a little close for comfort with the swells it was riding and I found it difficult to kick away from it which scared me. We started our descent into the blue water and were making our way down to the bottom when the instructor signalled us to surface. "Where are Andy and Christiana?" he asked the three of us in his Argentinian accent. "They were right below us," we answered, but there was nothing but fish and water now visible from the surface when we looked down with our masks. "We will descend a little and look for them," he said. We descended about half way but saw no black wetsuited bodies anywhere and he signalled for us to surface. They had vanished into the blue. Another group was off away from us and he called to them to ask if they had seen them but they said no. He got very annoyed, finally calling to the boat to return to look for their bubbles while we drifted rapidly away from where we lost them and I started to panic, realizing how quickly they could disappear in that vast ocean with its quixotic currents.

*

By the time the boat signaled to us that they spotted their heads surfacing off in the distance maybe 10 minutes later an eternity had passed for me. My insides had turned into their own little private shipwreck. When we were all reunited as a group again they said they had followed the other group by mistake. I decided I was feeling too sick and could not do this dive, swimming through the rough seas to the boat instead to recover. I had instant running belly, not easy with 2 wetsuits and a bathing suit and one head with no toilet paper onboard. Soon we spotted Andy's head bobbing on the surface again and picked him up; he could not get his ears to clear on the second descent. So he and I sat the dive out on the boat and rocked in the swells and I felt progressively more awful. I was relieved once everyone was back onboard and we were motoring over to the Sombreros, a couple of pinnacle shaped rocks (photo), for our second dive. They all cheerfully ate cookies while I struggled to get ahold of myself.

*

Once we arrived and geared up again I was really fighting with myself to go. On the outside I appeared ready but inside I was running away. My stomach was in spasms and my weight belt was digging into it. I nodded and stepped off the edge of the boat when it was my turn, having chosen Christiana as my partner this time. Swimming over to our group I held her hand but was struggling to maintain my buoyancy in spite of inflating my BC. I felt like I could not move easily and I could not breathe. I told Julian that I didn't think my regulator was functioning properly as I sucked hard on it with little results. He tried it quickly and said it was fine.

*

We started our descent and my panic rose quickly. I let go of Christiana who patted my hand reassuringly and began to go deeper but I could not breathe and I felt incredibly heavy and unable to ascend. I forgot all about clearing my ears while I struggled, which is usually all I am focusing on. Julian kept signaling me to come down and I gave him the thumbs up, meaning I am going up. He shook his head no and signalled me to look at him but that made me panic even more. I put some air in my BC, a no-no, with him shaking his head no, but that was the only way I could make any progress up to the surface. I have to say this was one of the most awful feelings I have ever had. I felt like I was going to suffocate and sink into a watery grave below.

*

I managed to surface with him behind me and I told him I was not going to do this dive either. Christiana and the group were waiting for him and I did not want them to get separated again so he signalled for the boat to return. I told him to go, I would make it to the boat just fine, happy to be back in the world of ambient air breathers. After climbing onboard I found out my weight belt had 17 pounds instead of the 10 I usually use, so that explained some of my inability to move freely or surface with an additional extra one fifth of my body weight strapped on. But more than anything I was left with an excruciating feeling of panic that I have been trying to reckon with ever since. It was the first time in my life I was uncomfortable in the water, which is usually my favorite place to be. I was the last person I was worried about as I was the only one doing a recertification. With echoes of my younger voice in my head bravely extolling the pleasures of scuba diving, I wondered: Was it age? Hormones? Fear? A sudden attack of claustrophobia? The weather?

*

Everyone surfaced with happy tales of eels and nudibranchs and one small shark. On the way back to the marina we were accompanied by a school of dolphins, sleek and speedy on our bow wake. But my day was shot. We went to breakfast with everyone tho my stomach was still very upset. Christiana and I walked home along the beach - me wearing a hat, sunglasses, 2 long-sleeved lycra shirts and a pair of long sweatpants as I was still chilled - the most clothing I have worn in 8 months here by far! I looked like one of those people who can not have any sun exposure but somehow had a tan underneath. The day remained overcast and I did not warm up until we were almost home, a couple miles later. We lay on the couch, exhausted, talking about colleges for Christiana while watching The Phantom of the Opera, a welcome lazy gray Sunday afternoon for us all.

*

Today is Monday, a new day. The sun is shining again and I am still trying to shake this lingering knot in my gut, the place I hold my anxiety. I am sure I will strap on my gear eventually but for now I am in no great hurry to face my fears for the sake of looking at a few fish. Maybe it will be better for me to dive alone without the worry of my family down there with me, like it used to be in the carefree days of my youth. Maybe a sunny, calm day is what I need. When I climbed onboard the boat after quitting the first dive, one of the crew said to me, "I am glad I am not a Mom. When my Mom is worried she says her feet ache." I nodded, sympathetically. For us Moms, every day is Labor Day.

*

K3