I decided to spend a few nights at the base of Maderas in Santa Cruz. About three hours by bus from the port of Moyogalpa, the village of Santa Cruz, though somewhat remote, is centrally located if you want to go sunbathing at Playa Domingo, hiking to San Ramón waterfall, climbing Maderas Volcano and perusing the petroglyphs.

I arrived in Santa Cruz on the local bus late in the afternoon and followed a large, white sign pointing to the Albergue Ecologico El Porvenir. Not far from the bus stop sat an enormous cement sign with the hotel’s name. I turned into a lush tunnel of trees wrapping around a one-lane road.
A few yards along the road, I noticed a giant boulder resting under a shelter topped with tejas. It was getting dark, so I had to leave the road and follow a footpath into the clearing to see why this rock deserved its own house.

I knew that I’d find petroglyphs in the area, but I had no idea that an impressive collection would be scattered around the hotel’s property. I stood still on the serene and elevated slopes of Maderas Volcano looking over the isthmus to Concepción Volcano. I was surrounded by ancient rock art an engulfed in a profound sense of spirituality.

In Granada, Nicaragua at the San Francisco Convent and Cultural Center, part of the permanent collection includes a series of early 20th century photographs of the area. I decided to record a few and find the same spots in the city to see how times have changed, or not:

Market’s Main Entrance 1910

Market’s main entrance 2009

Bus terminal 1930

City bus 2009

Calle Xalteva 1926

Calle Xalteva 2009

This feeling made me think of a recent article I read about urban planning in San José — what most would say is an oxymoron. The visiting urban planners recommended new ways to incorporate San José’s rivers and mountain views into a comprehensive plan for the capital. The idea being that if people have the opportunity to feel close to nature within the city, they will then be encouraged to think green and, consequently act green.

It doesn’t surprise me that Ticos (short for Costa Ricans) would express that they are “happy.” The lifestyle here simply exudes it on a daily basis. Language is always a good indicator of culture. One of Costa Rica’s most popular expressions is “pura vida,” which translates literally as “pure life” and means something like “cool” or “life is good.” Whenever you ask someone in Costa Rica ¿Cóma está? or ¿Que tal? (How are you, in English) the inevitable response is “pura vida.”

This more laid-back, happy-go-lucky attitude frustrates some who demand that life move at a faster pace. The bottom line is that life does not move fast here, and if anything, visitors or expats who feel frustration at this, need to step back and grab onto those moments as opportunities for self-reflection. In this period of self-reflection, will most people not opt to re-prioritize in order to spend more time with their family or enjoy a drink with friends?

If we analyze these experiences, which ask us to shift consciousness, we can redefine our idea of “success,” and collectively lead more fulfilling and happy lives.

The global crisis has pushed many of us into reflection. We have an opportunity to set new priorities and redefine the way we live. As the article points out, it’s not only important for our own well-being, but for the health of the planet, a place we all share.

Read BBC’s take on Costa Rica and other Latin American countries topping the Happy Planet Index here.

Breathing in the cool, moisture-laden air while hiking around the Monteverde Cloud Forest.

Flipping through, I was momentarily enthralled by the article: “7 recipes with just one chicken.” It can be done — from soup to shish kabob. A few pages later, I stopped at another interesting story about one of my favorite topics, wine. (Read previous whining about wine posts one, two, and three.) Some of the questions answered were: What should I consider when buying a good, but inexpensive wine? What makes a wine cheap or expensive? What’s up with boxed wines? Are any of them good?

In a country where even boxed wine costs at the cheapest 2,100 colones, $4.00, one might expect a bit of a thumbs up for the cartoned vintage. The response: “Of course,” and then a tapering of enthusiasm, “depending on what you expect from the wine.” The article continues to explain that boxed wines are for “people who are not used to drinking wine.”

The astronomical price of wine in Costa Rica is a deterrent from buying decent bottles. After spending half of my day whipping up seven different recipes from just one chicken, I might need a few glasses of wine before I even set the table. Somehow, if I were to indulge, I feel I’d be defeating the purpose of the provident poultry preparation. Then again, it might also justify the purchase.

Though off to a risky start, 2008 turned out to be a life-altering year. I wanted to write and publish, and I achieved those goals repeatedly. Hand-in-hand came more peace-of-mind as I felt myself being driven by my interests and my passions – travel, language, culture and the many amazing personal stories you hear along the way.

Apart from adding a stricter exercise routine to my New Year’s resolution list, I’m making just one alteration. In addition to writing as much as I humanly can, I’m going to work on developing my writing niche. After a lifetime of extensive and often remote travel, I’ve often quipped that I should get paid to travel professionally! Can I turn this passion into a profession? I’m going to spend 09 taking a shot at it.

I’ve backed up my resolution with two New Year’s good-luck dishes:

I ate a hefty helping of black eyed peas for overall good luck, and

a couple of spoonfuls of collard greens for money (Thanks, Diane!).

I’m sitting in a cozy leather armchair the color of a Crayola that never needed sharpening in my box ― Burnt Sienna. Next to a real pine tree sparsely decorated with what looks like last week’s shortbread cookies, it’s the perfect people-watching spot tucked into a corner and slightly lower than the many surrounding barstools.

Next to me is Paris Hilton, at least that’s what I thought when she first walked in. She’s eating a ham and cheese sandwich and talking on her Blackberry. Out of pure lonely fascination, I’m trying to eavesdrop on the conversation to my left; however, the elevated seats send the chatter overhead and out of earshot.

There are many people out and about but I haven’t seen one single shopping bag. I’m in an outdoor mall with lots of parking, so I’m guessing that either people aren’t purchasing or they’re putting everything in the car before taking a table in the bakery. Or maybe they’re already enjoying their new purchases ― new shoes, jeans, cell phones, or as in my case, a mini-laptop!

Blogging now has no bounds!

I find that I quite easily slide right into Caribbean speed. That’s not to say that I don’t get anything done, it just takes a bit longer, and I’m comfortable with that. After extending my stay — twice — I’ve managed to get all of my work done. It still needs a little polishing, but I’ll wait for the cold weather to get started on that. How does the Caribbean cast that dreamy tropical spell?

Perhaps it is the picture-perfect beaches that have often lulled me into a trance — combine that with a beach-swing and I’m a goner.

Maybe it’s the bathtub-warm, gin-clear waters that soak up every drop of anxiety from weary bones.

It might be the soothing sounds of rain forest nightlife making the transition from day to night equally tranquil.

Or, it could be the great variety of delicious food.

Whatever it is, I love it.

Standing in the busy parking lot, I looked at the Tommy Hilfiger sign decorating the mall’s red-brick wall and then turned my eyes to the rusty-tin shacks so irregular in construction that you think you are viewing them through a Tim Burton lens. I took out my camera and began to take photos when no less than thirty seconds later a security guard rode up on his bike and asked me why I was taking pictures.

“You can’t take pictures here without a permit from the mall,” he explained. I agreed and continued toward the glass entrance encasing the escalators. On my way up the escalator, I decided to take another shot when I was stopped by another security guard telling me that I was not allowed to take pictures of the area. This is the first time I’ve encountered such tight security in Costa Rica. I was still able to snap a few shots:

When people talk about crime in Costa Rica, they nostalgically refer to a time when there was a lot more equality. Today, as in many parts of the world, we are seeing shocking differences between the rich and poor. (Read my previous post about development in Bocas del Toro, Panama here.) We must seek and support ways to alleviate poverty around the world — our health, safety and well-being depend on it.

Decorations at the fancy supermarket in my neighborhood.

Plastic Santa and sign identifies this small shopping center as the neighborhood Santa Stop.

Decorations available along roadsides for those wanting to create their own Santa Stop.