The Many Layers of Paradise

Do you ever wonder if Jeff and I are telling the full story of life in so-called Paradise?  To be honest, there may be more to the story that we keep to ourselves.

For example:
Here's a romantic picture of Jeff in his new office: In the background are stately tropical black walnut trees mixed in with other tropical hardwoods.  The hills in the background give a wonderful dimension to the panoramic view.  As he sits at the hardwood table in the shade on the veranda, working on business-consultant-work things, the outdoor temperature reaches up to about 85 degrees and tropical birds continually call out to one another as they dash from tree to tree.

What a way to retire!  What a way to travel!  Livin' the Life!

Oh yeah, there's a bit more to the story that the photograph and the carefully selective writing has left out:

The reason that he's on the veranda is because the house is an OVEN.  The living room has two HUGE skylights that act as solar magnifiers, creating exactly perfect circumstances for a solar dehydrator - but it's our house.  Our only hope for it to cool down is when the tropical afternoon rains begin and dissipate much of the heat. 

So he had to carry that exceptionally heavy hardwood table outside and deal with the glare on his computer screen in order to be able to get any work done.  And in spite of wearing a hat and applying bug repellent, he ended up with a new batch of bites to nurse.  Although when he works indoors he also risks getting bitten up because the huge sliding glass doors - that provide such a nice view - don't have screens on them.  If the doors are kept closed during the day, we totally cook.  If the doors are kept open during the day, the mosquitoes invite themselves in.

And that lovely hillside adjacent to us?  There's a huge rock quarry on it.  From sunrise to sunset trucks and rocks are tumbling, dropping, and rolling in a low grade, never-ending crash-rumble.

Yes, the place is BEAUTIFUL.  However the experience of surviving in a tropical climate is multi-layered.

The expats that survive and thrive in the tropics are a tough lot.  I admire them and am proud to be counted as one.

A vintage coffee hopper, pickers dump their sacks into the hopper, truck drives under, chute opens.

Remember riding in the back of pick-ups in the '50's?

Glamour shot.

All bets are off unless you figure out a way to stay fit and functional . . .  Rip 60: never leave home without it.

. . .  fit, functional, and funny.

Josey tells us the story of his cacao finca: Chocorica: 11 acres with a Tico home - $172,000. Interested?

True "Criollo" type red cacao pods. Some say they're the best.

Portrait of a cacao fanatic.

This is Casa Botania, Kata and Pepe's unique B&B in San Vito.

The evening sun goes down at Casa Botania.

"I deserve this".

The misty "neblina" clouds hug the forested slopes.

Haven't I met you somewhere?

Starr checks her notes in the Casa Botania dining room.

Pepe and Kata are wonderful hosts.

Buffet breakfast and Belgian crepes from the kitchen.

Let me in!

Gail used her retirement to develop the 17 acre Cantaros botanical garden and gift shop where she sells indigenous crafts.

Jesus loves me. This I know.

Gail shows off her solar clothes dryer. Actually I think husband Harry might have had something to do with it.

In all probability, the most elegant Eucalyptus on earth.

The Cantaros area has been inhabited for over 30 years by archeologists.
Human habitation started about 3,500 years before that.

The picturesque highland village of San Vito de Coto Brus was founded in 1951 by Italian coffee grower, Vito Sansonetti.

Cecilia, daughter of Vito, sitting on the founder's fender.

Picnic and picture day for the founding families.

Camila's a good girl, and a skilled watchdog.

I think he likes me.

These lovely docile beasts do the work of 20 men.

The oxen drag the logs up steep muddy slopes. The men turn them into lumber.

Another layer of Paradise.

Remember:  All that glitters is not Gold - although it IS the experience of a lifetime and we wouldn't do it any differently.

Seven Week Itch

(Try making a comment at the bottom; I changed a tiny setting and believe it works now.  It's LONELY out here.  We need to hear from you!!)

 
Seven weeks is pretty long for us to stay in one place these days.

We lived in Quebradas, San Isidro del General, for longer than anyplace so far.  And we may return there:  it's a NICE place to live with many heartfelt "Gringo" and "Tico" friends in the region. 

But we left.  
Largely because we couldn't find affordable properties that have the qualities we're looking for.

Toucans checking out the local edibles

 




"So we packed our bags with sweaters and socks and a frog who was a particular friend" and moved a 3 hour bus trip further away from civilization.  

Yes, it's a trifle remote.  Yes, there are far fewer gringos.  Yes, not having a car is a HUGE problem. Yes, the scenery is magnificent.  Yes, there are tons of incredible birds.

Morning vista

Strolling through our new home

Next to Panama

We're about 30 minutes outside of the little pueblo of San Vito consisting of some 12,000 people, still technically in Costa Rica but only 6 miles from Panama by way the toucan flies.  Convenient in some ways.  Visa border runs will be a cinch. The people are "mas pueblo": more small town, friendlier.

The elevation is at 3000 feet; temperature range is about 68-70 degrees at night, 80-85 degrees during the day and humid.  During this time of year it commonly rains in the afternoons, sometimes just a trifle, sometimes a lot.  And no wind. 

But this region caught our eye as having some distinct advantages we're looking for - so we rented a home on a hardwood tree ranch outside of town, a fairly pleasant home built on a hilltop by a French couple. 

Car path leading to the tree ranch on both sides.  No speeding.

Side view of our new home.  The front is glass doors.

Looking out from in

Patio over the valley

Let the birdwatching begin - plus a strong dose of spacing out

He was an artist and constructed marvelous riverstone walkways and sitting areas traversing the hillside.  When he passed away several years ago, she returned to France and now rents out two homes on the property and the resident caretakers, Portfidio and Eunice, live in the 3rd home.

 

River rock walkways.  Note the rock sofa.

 

Yep, the walkway works just fine!

Pink-banana flower - for pink bananas

Rock On, baby!! But bring a pillow.

A not-so-gentle slope.  See the upper and lower homes?

So far we've only been here a week.  The owner told stories of monkeys and turtles - though no real sightings yet. Although in early evening a flock of brilliant toucans landed in the enormous old tree in front of the house, munching on something in the tree. 

A pair of turqouise-crowned Motmots likes to hang out in the citrus trees right outside.  Parrots frequently fly overhead squawking, sometimes landing close by. I hope that some of this makes up for the drama of managing a trip to town and back.

Goin' DOWN to get to the lower home

Deck of the lower house

Long and winding driveway that leads to the lower home

Early morning peek

A possible relative to the poinsetta?

A bit of a slope.  Roof of lower house.

Growing all over the property

An exotic passionflower

 So once again we are home. This time home is quite a remote rural location, 30 minutes from town and 1 mile from the nearest bus stop, served by a grand total of 4 buses per day. All our neighbors are real country style Ticos, leading peaceful and traditional lives.

The property's caretakers, Portfidio and Eunice, make fine and helpful neighbors. Their dog Camila comes over to our home to guard us at night, where she sleeps right outside the door and is awakened frequently by huge flying beetles and bats.

This gentleman rescued me when I was headed the wrong way on a short cut to the bus stop. He led me down this trail, squeezing by several LARGE oxen and through a defunct sugar cane syrup mill where yolked oxen used to walk in circles to run the mill that crushed the cane.  The bus stop is to the right of the top of his hat.  I missed the bus and the next one wasn't for 4 hours.  Next time I'll forget the short cut and take the dirt road.

So once again we've landed.  This time in a forgotten corner of the globe, San Vito de Coto Brus, Costa Rica, still searching for a home and a way of life to call our own.