La Pura Vida--The Costa Rican Good Life

David and Dylan in the breakfast room of Hotel Grano de Oro

These crocs are a lot bigger than they look in the picture! This was the only picture I got before my camera ran out of battery and my extra one was back in the van.

Our "personal chef" hard at work preparing our first dinner.

After the trauma of the puffer machine, we flew without event to San Jose, Costa Rica, where Kelly had arranged for a van to take us to Hotel Grano de Oro, where we checked in and went to bed. But not before being invited out to dinner by the kids senior and junior who were rarin’ to go. It was then almost midnight. We passed on the invite in true old fogey fashion and retired. Too bad it was so late because the next morning we discovered that the hotel is a lovely period piece which reminded me of a Sidney Greenstreet movie replete with lazy ceiling fans, a breakfast room all rattan and stained glass surrounded by balconies that opened to the sky and lush greenery that threatened to devour the space and everything in it. For breakfast I had a coddled egg with cream and caviar garnished with crispy toast sticks. Absolutely delicious and elegant, my dahlings. I was then truly over my airport indignities.

But alas, dallying was not to be. At ten, we all piled into our van with Alvaro, our driver, and proceeded, first to the grocery store for cerveza, coca, agua, and huelo, and then toward our destination, Manuel Antonio, the little town where our palatial villa would be waiting. We stopped for a leisurely lunch at a beautiful Marriott resort, Los Suenos, but otherwise we were pretty much hell bent for election over mountains, streams and harrowingly narrow bridges all the while accomplishing our mission which was to “experience the countryside.” We did make one other stop to see crocodiles floating menacingly in an otherwise quiet river, co-existing with some Brahmin cattle who were unconcerned by their twenty-foot long neighbors.

Manuel Antonio is booming. Kelly and David had stayed here a year ago and apparently the building since then is astounding with hotels, condos, private homes, restaurants and all the other accoutrements of the “discovered” area evident everywhere. But we didn’t linger; rather we bee-lined to our Villa El Cantico which if you are interested you can check out on the internet. Melissa and Kevin, our house managers, were there to meet us and Kelly got a rousing chorus of “Kelly is great, Kelly is great” when we realized that we truly were going to be royalty in a palace for the next eight or nine days. Our “personal chefs” were already at work preparing dinner which we had arranged beforehand and the results were amazing. But first, we explored the house which is on at least four levels with a gourmet kitchen and dining room, great room and media room on the main level, and bedrooms and office on levels above. The great room looks out onto a gorgeous pool with sunken barstools where you can belly up to a bar with fridge and stainless steel grill. Beyond the pool is jungle where several varieties of monkeys frolic (although only Mark and Martha, up at five this morning, have seen them thus far) and beyond that is the mighty Pacific Ocean and the Manuel Antonio beach. We were quite content last night to sit by the pool, have a toddy or two and be served dinner at the appointed hour by Gilbert and forgot-his-name the other one. Dinner was a beautiful shrimp salad which alone would have sufficed, but after that we had grilled lobsters, rice and beans, veggies and an artfully presented torte for dessert. Whatever shall we do when we have to go back to the real world?

This morning we cooked our own breakfast (just to stay in practice) and afterwards, David, Mark, Tom and I took a taxi into the town for supplies. We don’t have a rented car—not practical for so many people—so we call taxis when we need to go somewhere and they magically appear about five minutes later. First stop: ATM machine at a bank. The guys went in while I waited in the car with Gilbert (another Gilbert) the driver. He had said that maybe this ATM wouldn’t have money because yesterday they didn’t but luckily the armoured car was there with guards armed with rifles looking very mean and while he and I were waiting in the car a guy got out of the truck with a huge armload of money while the armed guard looked even meaner and brandished his rifle in evey direction. I commented to Gilbert that this was fairly unusual and he shrugged and said in essence that it’s all bluster and if there was an actual heist that the guard wouldn’t know what to do.

Cash was procured without incident and then Mark asked Gilbert if he could stop somewhere where they could buy some Cuban cigars (big treat, they’re actually legal almost everywhere but in the US) so he pulls up in front of a little shop with a sign Fuego Sex Shop in front, but I figure hey it’s only cigars they want so once more I wait in the car and the guys go in. After that we had uneventful trips to the grocery store and the fish market to buy fish for ceviche and then home.

This afternoon we went to the beach in Manuel Antonio, the one we can see from our house, and not surprisingly, we can see the house from the beach as well, an impressive sight indeed. We had lunch in a little dive called the Marlin, probably the best Mahi Mahi I’ve ever had and then watched the kids taking a surfing lesson. I haven’t tried posting pictures yet, but I hope I can show you our two stars and resident surfing dudes, Michael and Dylan. They were old pros in no time. The girls did great as well, but I couldn’t get any pictures of them. Maybe next time.

Tonight we had a real rain storm with the loudest thunder any of us has ever heard and some very impressive lightning so it’s just as well we had decided to stay in and eat the ceviche I had prepared and some wonderful Colombian concoction that Martha whipped up out of the leftover rice and salsa and some eggs. We sat outside until the rain really got going and the thunder was fearsome and then decided to come in. Dylan said the thunder crack was really loud, and I said it’s thunder clap, not crack and then someone else said that Dylan sometimes says crap when he means clap, and then we made up a tongue twister—clap, crap, crack—and I defy you to say that even once let alone three times. It’s impossible. We found that unbearably amusing and after a major attack of the giggles went to bed where I lie now finishing up this blog which I hope to post tonight or tomorrow early. Good night my dears!