Every Day Should Be Symphony Day

I just returned from a concert given by the Orquesta Sinfónica Nacional de Costa Rica at the Teatro Nacional. The concert, of course, was spectacular as the orchestra played pieces by Tchaikovsky, Smetana, and Rimsky-Korsakoff and brought in an American pianist to perform one of Rachmaninoff's piano concertos. The theatre was beautiful as well. Constructed in the 1890s, the Teatro was, according to legend, built to accomodate a European prima donna who refused to perform in Costa Rica until there was a proper venue for her here. The construction was funded through a special tax on coffee exports. The theatre's interior is modeled after the Paris Opera House, containing rich gold lining, a mural of cherubs painted on the ceiling, and a marvelous crystal chandelier. A must-see for all fine arts fans visiting San José.

The back of the Teatro Nacional next to the pigeon-infested Plaza de la Cultura

Around Town II

The bustling Avenida Central outside the Mercado Central

La Merced, probably my favorite church in San José

Parque Central and the Catedral Metropolitana

Plaza de las Artes

View of downtown from Avenida 2. High rises constructed following the architectural style of 1960s Latin American gross.

Around Town I

Another weekend exploring the Valle Central around San José, but still fun! Yesterday a few of us took a coffee plantation tour at the Café Britt farm in Heredia. After seeing the plants and the factory (and "just tasting" about four cups' worth of delicious free samples), I bought five bags to bring home. Yes, I will share.

This morning I went to the Museo de Jade which is housed in the INS building (the government agency which provides public health insurance). They had quite a collection of jade carvings and other artwork from the indigenous Precolumbian cultures.

After realizing I didn't have enough money with me to go to the National Museum, I instead walked around downtown San José and took pictures. Enjoy!

Supreme Court

Parque Moraván

You, You, and Now You?

Time for an overdue post about the Spanish language. WARNING: This may only interest Spanish majors/minors.

If I haven't scared you off, a quick Spanish lesson for all non-speakers. There are two main ways to say singular "you" in Spanish: usted (formal) and tú (familiar). Each has its own verb conjugations that everyone learns in Spanish 101.

That was it. At least, until I arrived here.

All of the Central American countries and a few South American countries also use vos. Vos is basically a substitute for tú in terms of respect for the addressee, but is only used heavily in a couple countries (most notably Costa Rica and Argentina). Vos has its own set of conjugations that overlap with tú and is not to be confused with vosotros (a form of saying "y'all" only used in Spain).

I had my host sister explain the perhaps overly-formal Costa Rican use of these terms to me. She told me that basically, a true Tico would never use tú. Usted is always best, but you can use vos with people with whom you have an intimate relationship, excluding parents. This was confirmed when my composition professor asked my class who used vos and tú when talking to their parents: no one raised his or her hand.

Some signs in vos around San José that might puzzle foreigners:

Si vas a tomar, no manejés. (If you're going to drink, don't drive) - PSA

Disfrutá (Enjoy) - Coca-Cola

Llevala con vos...llevá a tu país. (Carry it with you...carry your country) - ICE phone card

Y vos, ¿sos Capitan? (And are you a Captain?) - Captain Morgan

This is something we definitely don't learn in school, but it's OK since (allegedly) most people just call you vos and then use the tú conjugations. Only present tense verbs and commands are different between the two and some verbs like estar and ir don't really change at all. Almost all of the rest of the verbs just add an accent to the tú conjugation. I might need to make using vos a habit...

Pura vida,
Eric

Alajuela

I lied. I didn't go to the rainforest. Something about walking alone through a forest full of poisonous plants, frogs and snakes didn't appeal to me. Instead, I traveled to Alajuela, the fairly large capital of the northern province of the same name: what a great decision!

First was the obligatory stop at the local Catholic churches, La Iglesia de Santo Cristo de la Agonía (below) and the slightly less ornate Catedral de Alajuela. Both contained beautiful paintings, the former with large murals of colonial missionaries on the walls and the latter with large murals of Biblical stories painted on the ceiling. I finally found a Methodist church as well! Much smaller than the others, of course, and it was closed, but maybe I can return another day?

Next I stopped at the museum dedicated to Juan Santamaría, the Alajuela-born national hero of Costa Rica. A very interesting history is associated with him. In the 1850s, Tennesseean William Walker wanted to create a new tropical empire by enslaving the indigenous and mestizo (mixed-race) people throughout Central America. Taking advantage of a civil war in Nicaragua, Walker became the de facto president of that country in 1855. He sent his army to invade Costa Rica the next year in order to expand his empire, but was fended off by a ragtag militia of farmers and campesinos. Santamaría, a drummer boy, lost his life setting fire to an enemy stronghold, effectively defeating Walker's army and martyring himself for Costa Rica. (P.S. There's a distinct possibility that Juan Santamaría never existed) Walker continued his effort to enslave Central America, but was ultimately defeated by a Central American coalition army. He was executed in Honduras in 1860. More info at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Walker_(filibuster). The museum itself hosted a random collection of paintings, printing presses, and cannons related to the war and was housed in a former prison across from the central park in Alajuela.

I followed the museum with a bus ride to the outskirts of the town to the beautiful Zoo Ave, host to masses of local animals including macaws, peccaries, ocelots and quetzals. The park, run by an environmental group as a combination public awareness/animal rescue/rare species breeding/nature preserve, was littered with snarky pro-environment signs like this one below.

Will you keep torturing your mother?

At Zoo Ave, I finally achieved my goal of seeing a toucan. Too bad it wasn't in the wild.

Upon returning to Alajuela proper, I found a traveling hand puppet show entertaining the crowds in the central park. The main character, Juancito (below), fought off an Uncle Ghost, a Nephew Ghost and the Devil from the house of his girlfriend, María, by beating them over the head with a huge club.

So who needs the rainforest or the beach with a town like Alajuela? I'll take a toucan and a puppet show over those any day.

Pura vida,

Eric

Orosí

Today I traveled to Orosí, a quaint mountain town situated 1051 meters above sea level. I went solo, armed only with a passing knowledge of the local language, a post-it note with bus stop locations, and five PB & J sandwiches The trip required three buses and a lot of walking, but I managed the two-hour journey there on less than $2 (a post about how much I love the public buses here coming soon). The bus climbed up and speeded down the mountains as the radio blared Spanish covers of "You Lift Me Up", Amy Grant's "El Shaddai", and Michael W. Smith's "Friends" (a post on how I'm pretty sure the public buses are actually run by the Catholic Church coming soon).

Orosí, upon arrival, offered some stunning vistas of the mountains that box in the town. After wandering aimlessly through the town, I did some hiking along the unnamed river. Pretty, but too bad bulldozers were at work in the water and the clouds were covering the mountains.

The highlight of Orosí, though, was its central church. Built in 1734, San José de Orosí is the oldest church still in regular use in Costa Rica. It was originally a missionary church and Franciscan monastery, damaged in the 1910 earthquake that created Las Ruinas de Cartago (see "Day Tripper"), but renovated by the Order in the middle of the last century.

The church reverted to Diocesan control in the '90s and the monastery was turned into a religious relics museum, where I learned all of this information. The museum hosts several relics from the church's history, including colonial-era images of Christ and the Virgin Mary, 18th century beds used by the monks, and some baroque-style altars rescued in 1910 from the church leveled in nearby Ujarrás. The picture below was taken in the church itself.






To the rainforest tomorrow!

Pura vida,
Eric

Hockey sobre hielo

Because Costa Rica has no Winter Olympics team, I've been streaming the games online through Terra TV out of Mexico City. Currently watching USA vs. Switzerland in men's hockey. The commentary is going a bit like this:

"No es muy buen dribbling, él necesita controlar el puck mejor con su stick. Un minuto más en el power play...GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLL!!!!"

In summary, hockey should always be narrated in Spanish.

Fix Or Repair Daily

Over the last few weeks, I noticed that there were an inordinate number of Nissans, Mitsubishis and Toyotas and other Asian models driving on the potholed streets of San Jose. Last week I did a small experiment and counted the number of American-made cars. My survey lasted about forty minutes and covered the time I spent waiting for the bus on a busy street leading out of el centro and the bus ride itself.

The results: of the hundreds of vehicles I saw, only 12 were American-made. More than half of these were Geos. A few possible explanations as to why they are so seemingly unpopular here:

1) They are too expensive to import here
2) They have terrible fuel economies (Costa Rica IS one of the greenest countries in the world...)
3) They are unnecessarily large for the narrow streets here

Montezuma's Revenge

Friday we set out early for Montezuma, a beach town on the Nicoya Peninsula in northwestern Costa Rica. Our plan: take a bus to Puntarenas on the Pacific coast, take a ferry across the gulf to Nicoya, then take another bus to Montezuma. We arrived to Puntarenas just fine but went looking for the ferry at the wrong dock. A quick lunch and taxi ride later, we arrived to the ferry just as it was departing. A couple of the officials hurried us through the ticket booth and shouted at us "Run!" and "Don't Run!" as we sprinted up the dock. The ferry took off right after we got on, and we enjoyed a one-hour cruise across the gulf.

Upon landing, we boarded a full bus (literally full, as in there were about as many people standing as sitting and there was no space to negotiate down the main aisle) and rode about 60 km (36 miles) over the next two hours. The journey was marked by sweat, potholes, discomfort, frequent stops, and tears of desperation. Luckily, I made friends with a shiatsu massage therapist from Boston to pass the time.

We arrived at Montezuma to find everything I hate in a beach town: lots of American tourists, lots of hippies, lots of Rastas. In fact, Costa Ricans refer to the town as "Montefuma", a play on words referring to the amount of pot that is smoked there. We rented a cheap room in a pension from an American ex-pat and walked outside to the beach.

Unfortunately, it wasn't really worth the six hours spent in transit there. There were two beaches. The main beach was crowded and dirty, with a line of twigs, fish bones and bottlecaps marking the wave line in the sand. The other outside our pension was a small inlet with lots of fishers and seabirds. In fact, the highlight of the weekend may have been watching the pelicans dive for fish in the water.

I spent the night out with friends, got sick in the middle of the night due to the heat and was ready to head home in the morning. Kind of a fail of a trip, but it was nice at least to get out of the city. One more image from this weekend, coming from some Frenchmen's RV parked outside our pension:

Very Dada. I'll head to a different beach soon and hopefully come back with better stories.

Pura vida,

Eric

Everything Is Slightly Ridiculous: Parte Tres

I just heard some loud bangs outside my window. I looked out to find a neighbor, within two blocks of my house, setting off a gigantic, 4th of July-style fireworks display, orchestrated to the music of all the neighborhood car alarms. What I don't hear are police sirens. I guess this is something else we're all willing to sweep under the rug? I'll enjoy the show meanwhile.

Updates from the beach coming tomorrow.

Pura vida,
Eric

Voto 2010

Election Day is finally here! And in San José, it is quite the experience. Some top differences between Costa Ricans and Americans during elections:

1) People here are happy! They are excited to vote, and even if they don't like the top candidates they still vote to pay their respects to democracy.

2) Ticos make voting a priority. Lots of businesses are closed, alcohol sales are constitutionally banned today (except in bars), and people wait in long lines to cast their ballot. I rode with my host dad to Cartago today, a 45 minute journey, so he could drive his carless daughter to her otherwise inaccessible polling station on the other side of town.

3) Flags and honking. Riding around the city today in a car was like swimming through a sea of colors while listening to a cacophonous orchestra of carhorns. Flags whose colors represented certain candidates hung from the windows of probably half the cars we drove by. When these cars came across others sporting the same colors, honking became a complete necessity. My host dad honked constantly as we passed Laura Chinchilla's green and white banners.

4) Ticos respect supporters of all candidates. I didn't see any hostility between different candidates' supporters. Many cars hung two, three, or even four candidates' flags from their cars. This excludes one Otton Solís supporter hanging his red and yellow flag from the window of my public bus. Passing by a small gathering of Laura supporters, he shouted out the window "¡Marionetas!" [puppets]. I feel he was not typical though because (a) he was talking to himself for most of the twenty-minute bus ride and (b) he looked like the Latino version of actor Steve Buscemi.

It appears currently that with approximately twice the vote of her nearest contender, Partido Liberación Nacional candidate Laura Chinchilla will soon become the first female president of Costa Rica. While my host dad is quite happy, I'm sure my host mom is torn. She decided at the last minute to vote for Laura just to support her party. She didn't want to vote for Laura earlier for the sole reason that she didn't like her "face like a dog."

I'll let you decide on that one.

Pura vida,

Eric

Day Tripper

The travel section of my weekend was composed of two trips: one to Cartago and the other to Volcán Poás.


Cartago was the colonial capital of Costa Rica from the 1500s to the mid-1800s, when the capital was moved to San José. Today, Cartago holds two main attractions: las Ruinas de la Parroquia, and la Basilica de Nuestra Señora de Los Ángeles.


Las Ruinas were the result of a 1910 earthquake which destroyed the church located on the Plaza Mayor of the city. Rather than rebuild the church, the locals decided to leave some of the walls standing and convert the interior into a garden.





The other more major attraction in Cartago is the National Basilica, dedicated to La Negrita, Costa Rica's patron saint. The story goes that a little indigenous girl found a statuette of the Virgin Mary on a stone in the forest. She took the statuette home and the next morning discovered it was gone. She found the statuette in the same place in the forest later that day. She took it home again, and the same thing happened the next day. She told the local priest, who took the statuette to his office for study and also found it gone the next day, back sitting on the same stone in the forest. These events were later proclaimed a miracle by the Church and a church (later to become the Basilica) was constructed over the rock, where a statuette of the Virgin Mary still sits today (Though I saw the statuette in the basement of the basilica, I did not want to take a picture for you while some locals were praying in front of it).

Today, the Basilica serves as a pilgrimage site. People walk, sometimes for weeks, from places as far away as Nicaragua and Panama to pay homage to La Negrita. Below is a view of the inside of the Basilica. The kneeling men in the main aisle are crawling towards the front on their knees.

After a day of religious relics, ex voto offerings and pilgrimages straight out of Honors 101, I took a completely different trip to Volcán Poás, a couple hours drive from the city. There is a park there with a lookout over the quasi-active crater. The area just around the rim reeks of sulfur (or perhaps as I originally thought, scrambled eggs).

A couple hours of hiking later, we descended down from the volcano and I managed to snap this shot of the Valle Central from the bus. The cities of San José, Alajuela, Heredia and all of their suburbs lie here, accounting for about 1/3 of the nation's population.

Election Day tomorrow!!! I'll be checking out the city's festivities up until the start of the Super Bowl.

Pura vida,

Eric

Election Season

Yesterday, I was literally less than one foot away from a Presidential candidate. While a friend and I looked on, stunned like a pair of smitten schoolgirls at a Jonas Brothers concert, Otto Guevara (the libertarian candidate currently polling in 2nd place) worked the crowds on the Avenida Central in San José. As he approached us, I stood still, debating whether to extend my hand to him or not, and quickly running through a list of awkward Spanish greetings in my head. Most likely realizing that we were not potential voters, Otto veered off to our left, instead greeting two girls standing next to us.

My friend later described Otto as placing one hand on each of the girls' cheeks, almost blessing them as if he were the Messiah, come back to Earth to judge the quick and the dead and to privatize Costa Rica's national industries.

Election Day is Sunday. More importantly, Election Night is Sunday night. I've been told the entire nation gets drunk in the street. Wish me luck.

Pura vida,
Eric

Manuel Antonio

Another week at the beach: tough life, I know. Nothing exciting enough to mention (except, you know, that it was January and I was on the beach), so I'll limit myself to two-word picture captions.

Much sand.

Wants bananas.

Pretty picture.

Actually evil.

Pura vida,

Eric

Cat Got Your Tongue?

No, I do. At least, if you're a cow. Today I stopped at the Mercado Central for lunch and ate part of a cow-tongue sandwich. ¡Qué riquísimo! I highly recommend it to all who can stomach the thought along with the dish. Just don't look at it before you eat it and you'll be fine.