I am loving Costa Rica more by the day.

 

Today is Thursday and I have two new things to report, both of them good, and one of them downright heartwarming.

 

I Ubered solo to Grecia this morning for the first time. (Topher flew home yesterday.) I went there to exchange USD for colones, to get additional money from an ATM, and to buy some items off my rental furnishing list.

 

Banking in Costa Rica is a whole new experience 

I went to the National Bank of Costa Rica after trying to see if Davivienda Bank would serve me because it has shorter lines. It wouldn’t so I walked about three blocks to NBCR because I knew they would serve me there. (Jon had taken me there a week or so ago to pay my translator’s fees. Oh, and by the way, my translator didn’t charge me for the last document she translated for me. That was unexpected and made my day.)

 

When you go into the Grecia branch of NBCR (I don’t know if this is the way it is in every branch, but it might be) there is a security guard who stands either in front of or behind a glass security “room” that reminded me of the transporter room on Star Trek in a weird kind of way. It doesn’t look a thing like it but it’s almost as if Scotty has to approve you before you can get inside the main room to see a teller! So, there was a considerably long line waiting to be let through to the tellers when I arrived. It didn’t look very long but it seemed to take at least three minutes on average for the security guard to let individuals through.  Older folks went in ahead of younger folks, and some arrivals went in ahead of the line for unknown other reasons.

 

Anyway, I didn’t let the security guard know I was viejo (old!) until I got to him the old-fashioned way — by waiting my turn — and when I did, it didn’t appear to make a bit of difference to him: he motioned for me to join the four rows of people waiting in the routine line instead of sending me back to the waiting area where Jon and I had received “old folks” expedited service the time we went in there.

 

I didn’t care, because there were chairs.  I wasn’t sure what the protocol was, and a kindly gentleman with a little girl, both of whom spoke only Spanish, noticed my perplexed look and motioned me to the correct chair, which was right next to them.  I responded, “Muchas gracias” and sat down. He said something to me conversationally but he spoke so quietly that I didn’t understand it so I told him in Spanish, “No hablo espanol muy bien.” He smiled, nodded and continued to be very generous in spirit. I liked him immediately and did my best to flail in his native tongue, which he appreciated.

 

Each time someone who was being served finished their transaction, they would leave and another customer would take their place. Each time this happened, we would move one seat closer to the front. I knew the word for chair (silla), so I joked to the gent in Spanish, “Sillas musica!” hoping that was close enough to “Musical chairs!” for him to get the gist of what I was saying. Not only did he get it, his daughter or granddaughter (I’m guessing that was their relationship) got it, too, and she grinned and lit up!

 

The gentleman told me (I think!) that the girl’s mother was an American or from Los Estados Unidos. (Not sure which).

 

I asked her name. She said it, but so quietly that I didn’t hear or understand it. So the gentleman repeated it: “Madison,” but of course in the Spanish way of saying it — Mod-E-sown” so it took me a bit longer to understand it.  But when I did, I repeated it, and added, “Un nombre linda por una princesa linda.”  (She was carrying a purse with a princess, a rabbit and a rainbow on it.)

 

I asked if I could take their picture and he said I could, so here they are.

 

 

 

I’m estimating we were playing musical chairs for about fifteen minutes. During this time, Madison was warming up to me. I had given them my name — “Krees” — and she was doing her best to communicate with me, but dad/grandpa couldn’t translate and I couldn’t understand much of what she said.

 

In spite of our communication gap, Madison gave me a tiny keepsake — a wee glass (or plastic) animal about half the size of a small eraser on the end of a pencil.  I have looked all over hell’s half acre trying to find it so I can take a picture of it and show you, but I can’t find it right now. I know I put it in a plastic bag to keep it corralled, and I have looked at every plastic bag I brought with me, and I still can’t find it.  I will feel devastated if it doesn’t turn up. I’m serious about that. She gave from her  heart, and it touched my heart to its core. I will never stop looking for it. If it fell out during one of the times I reached in for my wallet or passport, I will kick myself black and blue.  It HAS to be here somewhere!

 

Update:  I found it!  Here on the floor near a chair leg in my hotel room!

 

Anyway, before much longer we both/all discovered a part of their language that I know quite well. Her purse, as I mentioned earlier, had a princess, a rabbit, clouds and a unicorn on it, plus a rainbow… and she had a pencil eraser that looked to me like an “oso” (bear) but she ensured me it was a cabybara. (Alrighty then!) He concurred. I assured her that I knew what a capybara was.

 

And since I’m an animal nut I figured I was on a roll and said the word for “rabbit” (conejo) and I knew the word for princess, so I pointed to the images on her purse and smiled, “conejo y princess!”  That delighted her, so then I pointed and asked her what the words for cloud and rainbow were. I knew the word for cloud (nube) — so did she — but not the word for rainbow. So dad/granddad told us both (arcoiris). Then he asked me the word for rainbow in English and I told him. He repeated it like a natural born Englishman, so his ear is better than mine for picking up new words.

 

Anyway, I would have been delighted if the musical chairs had gone on for a lot longer, because I was establishing a fond bond with these two, despite our language barrier.  But he was called up about then, and he waved a kind goodbye and off they went.

 

When it was my turn up at bat, I had a well-rehearsed spiel. “No hablo español muy bien, pero quiero cambiar dólares por colones. Aquí está mi pasaporte. Todavía no tengo una cuenta aquí.”

 

The customer service representative did what she needed to do and then counted out the colones to me. I thanked her and departed. I didn’t see the man and his princess again.  I hope to see them again one day and renew our brief acquaintance!

 

After that I went shopping at Mundo Magica and got at least half of the items on my casita-furnishing list. I’m still missing spoons, aluminum foil, saran wrap, dish soap, matches, cleaning supplies, furniture polish, toilet paper (horrors!), kleenex, waste basket liners, air fryer, microwave, crock pot and matches, but I got everything else that was on my list that was available in that place. I got light bulbs, too.

 

I still need a fly swatter, cat food and cat litter, and groceries, but I have enough for Charli for right now.  I can probably get these items at Compre Bien or Mas por Menos.  Maybe tomorrow, if I don’t go to the feria instead.

 

I got out of Mundo Magico loaded down with so much stuff that I walked to Cafe Delicias to put everything down and have a lunch. Then I realized that, even with the exchange of money, I still didn’t have enough on hand to pay for two months rent plus the pro rated $25/day for the time I’ll spend there between this coming Saturday and the end of the month, so I asked the gentleman at Cafe Delicias if I could stash my goods in a secure nook there at the restaurant while I walked to the Bank of Costa Rica’s outside ATM to withdraw some more money.  He very graciously said yes, so I didn’t have to pack my newly acquired goods two blocks and back while on that mission.

 

Everybody here is so simpatico/agradable!

 

This culture is steeped in kindness and helpfulness.  I asked two people how to get to Mundo Magico as I wended my way in that direction, and the last one reversed his course and actually walked me to it!  (That has happened three times in the two weeks I’ve been here. Every time I ask for help, I get escorted, it seems!)

 

I’m 99.9% packed up already

 

Jon said he’ll stop by here at 9:45 on Saturday to deliver Charli, me and our stuff to my new abode, so last night I packed everything up that I’m not going to be using between now and then to make sure there is enough room in his vehicle to get everything there. There is. The only additional items I’ve accumulated here are three lamps, one cat tree, and some food, plus what I bought today — which fits entirely into the carryon I flew down with — so, we’re good to go.

 

Charli Ventured Out Again Today

 

This time I let Charli venture out under her own recognisance while I ate breakfast. (That is, I was in the cabana, outside,  and constantly saying, “Hey, Chars, I’m right over here if you need me!” so she knew I was in close proximity, just not Mother Henning her as usual.)

 

She did fine, staying in an area where birds of prey couldn’t spot her, and wandering around happily for more than an hour. I left the front door open so she could scoot in anytime she felt the need, and not long after I got back from the cabana she tore inside our hotel room like one possessed with — you guessed it! — Fiskar hot on her heels, his tail a bottle brush.  I chased him out and told him to stop being a bully.  I don’t think he wants any cats in his territory. He has cornered the market on feline/human attention and doesn’t want any competition!

Fiskar’s coy “Who, me?” Pethouse Pose

I think that’s all the news that’s fit to print. We’re two days away from moving to our own personal paradise, and I can’t wait. But I have to, so there’s that…

 

All in good time. Tranquilo!