By Jo Stuart

Although I had no intention of becoming so, I am now familiar with all of the hospitals, except the children’s, in the metropolitan area. My experience includes three hospitals with the Caja and three private. If there are more, I don’t want to know about them. My doctor at Hospital Mexico referred me to a doctor at San Juan de Dios, the last to complete my repertoire. Actually, the referral was some papers giving me permission to seek an appointment.

Each hospital seems more confusing than the last upon first entering.
San Juan de Dios is right at the foot of Paseo Colon and is a mammoth structure, although upon first entering, the reception area and hallways are not large. There was, fortunately, a window indicating that it gave information to patients. That was my first stop. The man behind the window sent me on my way to another office, and told me to return after I had my papers properly stamped.

The man in the designated office told me I had to go out of the building to another office. When I returned to the first window, Carlos (as I was to learn was his name), looked slightly annoyed and told me he would take me to the correct place. For the next hour Carlos led me to the various offices, sat with me and chatted while we waited. In one waiting room, a pretty teenaged girl asked me where I was from. I told her and she said she had lived in Kansas. “Like Dorothy, you are not in Kansas anymore,” I joked. She was Tico American. Then I asked her how she liked living in Costa Rica after Kansas. She said she preferred it here because the people were “so happy.”

Finally, we made it to the window that would give me my appointment (by now I had a folder with my name on it – I was in the system!) A woman was just closing the window and there was a sign that said that there would be no more appointments given out until April 18.

I was not all that upset because Carlos had made my passage quite pleasant. A long time ago I wrote about “Tico Moments” in a column, referring to the kindness extended beyond the ordinary by a Tico.
Carlos’ help qualified.

Then, on Sunday I decided to stay downtown after the concert.
The city is obviously emptying and closing down. The National Theatre was almost empty, but those of us who were there thoroughly enjoyed the violin and piano recital.

By the time I was on my way home, the rain had begun. The first rain of the season and it entered boldly – and I was without an umbrella. I got on the Cementerio bus just before the downpour, but when I got off at the new bus stop on Avenida 2 east of Soda Tapia, it was raining hard. Fortunately, there was a bus stop for the Estadio bus at the same stop.
I sought dryness under a small awning about fifteen feet from the bus stop. Shortly a man came out of the building attached to the awning and asked if I would like to seek better refuge on the porch. I explained that I would not see the bus coming if I did, so he came out and stood with me and when the bus came down the street hailed it, stopping it before the bus stop. The bus driver was most gracious when I scrambled on. There weren’t many people on the bus and they were all discussing the recent bus accident that landed the bus among the trees of the Sabana Park or being entertained by a little boy of about six.

When I stood up right after the driver stopped at the parada in front of ICE building, he slowed down and asked if I had missed my stop. I said no, I wanted the next stop – well, I really wanted to get off at the corner (a good 75 feet before the next stop). With encouragement from the other riders, the driver kindly dropped me off at the corner. I am sure the Pavas bus driver would not have done so. I hurried home in the lessening rain, not minding getting wet because I had had my share of Tico Moments to keep me warm and cheerful. Perhaps it is the coming of Easter, but everyone who is left in the city seems to be even more kind and helpful than normal. I’ve never lived in Kansas, but I do find it easy to be happy here.

Jo Stuart is the author of the popular book about life in Costa Rica entitled, “Butterfly in the City.” To order a copy of her wonderful book please contact her at: jostuart@amcostarica.com

By Jo Stuart

I arrived home early Tuesday morning. The flight returning was not nearly as pleasant as that going to the States. First of all, the plane was full. At least Economy was full; Executive Class had only about three people in it. Recently I have made this rather Quixotic decision to do a good deed when the opportunity presented itself. This time I said I would give up my aisle seat to a young couple who was very upset because they had been assigned separate seats and were complaining to all the flight attendants (and probably the pilot, too, since they were holding up our take-off). So I got to endure an overnight flight in a middle seat.

Everyone was sleeping except me and a very large man who spent the night standing in the area by the toilets. I thought it was because his seat was too small, but maybe he was just airsick. On one of my excursions down the aisle to get my circulation going, I was sorely tempted to ask him if I could have his aisle seat. Sometime during the wee hours the plastic glass of water on the tray of the woman next to me tipped over and spilled all over her and half over me. She spent the rest of the night sitting on her Ladies Home Journal and fanning her jeans with the airline’s safety instruction folder. I thought this was a great opportunity for Lacsa to do some fine public relations by putting someone into the nearly empty Executive Class; Lacsa didn’t see things my way.

Once home in my apartment, I intermittently napped and ate. I thought again that it would be interesting to research the idea that when one basic need is frustrated, we substitute another. In this case I couldn’t sleep so I was eating whatever I could find in my bare refrigerator and cupboard.

It takes me about three days to unpack and get back into my regular routine. It was not until I saw three of my little sparrows keeping dry on my balcony while the rain came streaming down that I felt like I was in my apartment.

The next day I had to replenish my cupboards. I had clipped an interesting column written by Drs. Joe and Teresa Graedon (he, a pharmacologist and she a medical anthropologist) in the Pasadena newspaper. It was entitled, “Prudent exposure to sunlight may be good.” We all know what that means – medical science is changing its mind again. In this case a Dr. Edward Giovannucci, in his keynote speech to the AMA for Cancer Research, said that exposure to the sun might prevent 30 cancer deaths for every one caused by skin cancer. It’s the vitamin D, stupid. Most people don’t get enough of it – and certainly in countries where people stay indoors and in cars most of the time, they don’t.

This new information pleased me because I have long thought that sunscreen does more harm than good, and that exposure to the sun in Costa Rica has probably helped prevent osteoporosis in both men and women. (Vitamin D is also necessary for the absorption of calcium). It will be interesting to see if the increased use of cars in this country is going to affect the health of the people on yet another front. Of course, as in most situations, moderation is important.

We actually need more than twice the currently recommended 400 International Units IUs) of vitamin D daily. Sunshine is important because it stimulates the production of Vitamin D in the skin. High SPF sunscreen reduces the amount of vitamin D the skin can take in. One can overdose on vitamin D taken orally, but the skin only makes as much as the body can use.

Armed with this knowledge I headed for the Auto Mercado without sunscreen – which I normally am, anyway. On my way home in a taxi with my 18,000 colones worth of groceries (about $37 — more than I have ever spent at one time), the warm pillowed breeze coming through the open window of the taxi felt like a caress. That is when I really felt I was back home in Costa Rica.

Jo Stuart is the author of the popular book about life in Costa Rica entitled, “Butterfly in the City.” To order a copy of her wonderful book please contact her at: jostuart@amcostarica.com

By Jo Stuart

From the number of letters about gallo pinto that have come in, it is obvious that my experience struck a nostalgic chord with many gallo pinto lovers. Rigo informed me that this dish of rice and beans actually originated in Nicaragua, where it is just as popular as it is here. That is interesting because another favorite Tico dish – Tres Leches – a cake made with three kinds of milk – also originated in Nicaragua.. James, whose family is from Cuba sent me what looks like a great recipe for Cuban black beans. Even my son Justin wrote to tell me he loved gallo pinto when he was here and would like the recipe.

Paul, an egg lover, lamented the “lacy edged” eggs he always gets at the bed and breakfast where he stays when he is here. He’d like to introduce Tico cooks to American fried eggs. But my friend Sandy says she that didn’t know anything but fast-fried lacy edged eggs when she was growing up in Texas.

She also said, “there is gallo pinto and gallo pinto.” Unlike most of the other people of Central America, Costa Ricans, as a rule, do not like hot (picante) food so some gallo pinto is pretty bland. When it is prepared with enough onion, garlic and Tabasco sauce then it can be delicious for those with heat-seeking taste buds.

Pearl wondered if things have changed much in Costa Rica since 2002. Funny she should ask about that. I haven’t been downtown much during the past months – I often am not ready to leave my apartment until the afternoon and by then, in the rainy season, the rains have started. Theoretically the rainy season is over and I was downtown the other day walking along Avenida Central. In some places where stores had once been were tall metal fences, behind which, obviously new stores or businesses are being built. In other locations, where once there were narrow dimly lit stores selling stockings or T-shirts, or baked goods, now I saw large brightly lit stores with row after row of the latest fashions in clothes or shoes – with, I suppose, prices to match. This is in the same area where the brand new indoor “commercial center” PlazAvenida is. And speaking of commercial centers, new huge shopping centers are popping up in many communities around San Jose.

As I looked at all of these shiny new things, I wondered why I felt sad rather than pleased. Perhaps it was because I was also looking around at the people on the promenade. Nobody (including myself) seemed to be buying or wearing any of the items for sale. Are these stores preparing for the future? Like the upscale luxury hotels, spas and gated communities?

But there have been some changes that I appreciate. Like the covered benches at the bus stops. It’s really nice to be able to sit while waiting for a bus. But the roofs over them are not very effective in the rain, thanks to the wind that usually accompanies it.

And there is a change that takes place every year, usually at the change of seasons, and that is the trees that come into bloom. There is the pink roble, the brilliant orange llama de bosque, and the yellow malinche. Drive anywhere and you will see these gorgeous trees in their full glory. And not to be undone, the ever present bougainvillea seems to be wearing its most brilliant colors. Mother Nature has been pretty cruel in many parts of the world, including the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, but right now, in the Meseta, she is dressed in her glorious best.

Pearl says that she misses the “pace and peace” she found here, even in 2002. You can still find it here in 2005. Peace is a tradition here, along with gallo pinto.

Jo Stuart is the author of the popular book about life in Costa Rica entitled, “Butterfly in the City.” To order a copy of her wonderful book please contact her at: jostuart@amcostarica.com

By Jo Stuart

I was wondering at lunch the other day why water never became a god. My companions reminded me that some people paid homage to a rain god (mainly when they wanted rain), and there are sea gods in the person of Neptune and Oceanus, and Osiris is considered a river god and therefore a water god. But I was thinking in terms of plain old water – all we seem to have is the eleventh sign of the Zodiac, Aquarius, the Water Bearer. About the only notable time water was mentioned in the New Testament was when Jesus changed it into wine

Water is a necessary condition for life to even be possible. And it is primary, next to air, in keeping life going.. It is necessary to grow the crops we eat, to keep ourselves clean and sanitary. Too little of it and we get sick and die; too much of it and we die. In short, it can give life or destroy it. Seems a pretty powerful element to me to have been overlooked when the status of god was being given out. Perhaps because it comes in so many forms –but isn’t that one of the properties a god should have? And finally, when it comes to the concept that god is within us all, if that god were water, it certainly would be true. Whatever, I think water is the Rodney Dangerfield of elements.

However, since no one else seemed that interested in the subject, our talk turned to food. Early this week I had an early morning appointment at the Clinica Duran. I was out of there by 9:30, waiting for the bus and looking forward to breakfast. I have not developed a taste, and certainly not a craving for it, so I was surprised to feel like having some gallo pinto.

Across the street from the bus stop is a little soda, Soda Miriam – I mean little. I had noticed it on my other visits to the clinic and thought it looked rather inviting. With its white table clothed tables in front of each of the two large windows flanking the entryway. On impulse I crossed the street and entered. As soon as I walked in I had second thoughts. There were only five tables in the place. The white chairs, plastic as were the table cloths, were quite dirty. The people sitting at two of the tables were drinking only coffee (bad sign – no food). There was a counter with a steam table and a young woman behind it as well as very tall, solidly built young man nearby.

Since all eyes were upon me, I felt I must forge on. Fortunately in the steam table was gallo pinto – that mixture of rice and beans I thought I wanted. I ordered that. Being queried further, I added, a fried egg, café con leche. Y “nada mas.” I added firmly, and sat down at one of the tables in the window. I wanted to order as little as possible so what I knew I was going to leave, wouldn’t look so insulting. I pulled out my book and lost myself in “The Transit of Venus.”

Shortly my plate of gallo pinto arrived – a small mountain of it, and on a separate plate, a fried egg. The white looked like it had been deep fried and the yolk as if it had escaped cooking altogether. I asked if it could be done over easy and the tall fellow who was my waiter, dutifully took it away. It came back hard fried. He also brought a cup of watermelon chunks and my café con leche and some hot sauce. I cut up the egg and added it to my gallo pinto, sprinkled on some hot sauce and took a bite. It was exactly what I had imagined that I wanted. My coffee was hot and delicious, and the watermelon refreshing. I finished everything. I was even brought a glass of water. The only disturbing aspect was the tall young man who hovered, about three feet away, watching me eat. I am accustomed to this in stores, but not in restaurants.

My life has changed a bit since that breakfast. Having heard of the dangers of dehydration, I salute the ungod water by drinking a glass of water every morning, just to get the day started, and I think about having a plate of gallo pinto again, soon. I am even thinking of buying some black beans and making it myself, but it is a lot of work, and that whole breakfast cost only 750 colones ($1.65), and I didn’t have to wash the dishes.

Jo Stuart is the author of the popular book about life in Costa Rica entitled, “Butterfly in the City.” To order a copy of her wonderful book please contact her at: jostuart@amcostarica.com

By Jo Stuart

There have been times when I have been worried about something and have expressed my concern and then heard a Tico say to me, “tranquilo.”

“How can you be tranquilo in the face of—-and I can fill in the blanks of with any number of stresses I felt in my first few years here.

Well, evidently, Ticos have figured out a way because in a recent poll 51% said that they do not consider themselves stressed or nervous about anything. Only 7% said they are continuously stressed and 42% are worried about certain things.

Among those things that worry those who do worry, high on the list is walking alone on streets that are considered dangerous (20%).
The two next big worries, both at 16%, are money worries and concern that their wife or children might get sick. (Obviously, this poll, which was reported in the daily newspaper the Nacion was done of men only.) From then on any of the stresses of everyday life affected less than 10% of the people, with fear of earthquakes and school exams affecting less than five percent of those who responded. So, ‘Don’t worry, be happy,’ certainly applies to Ticos. And, I am happy to say that in recent years that pretty much applies to me.

The one thing I AM going to worry about when the time comes, is renewing my residency. My friend, Sandy, has been trying to do that.
She is one of the most even-tempered people I know and her comment, after her second visit was, “Immigration sucks.” She arrived early for her 2 p.m. appointment, and after waiting three hours as she watched Immigration officials try to cram 40 people into appointments before closing time at 4 p.m., she had to make another appointment. I guess when my time comes it will be a good opportunity for me to finally finish Remembrance of Things Past.

Meanwhile, life goes on. Or it doesn’t. Last Saturday I attended a memorial gathering to mark a year since my friend Bill White left this planet. The memorial was held at the Artists Colony, which Bill established. Bill was a great music lover so music was very much a part of the occasion. A choral group of twenty singers from Ciudad Colon sang a medley of folk songs from many countries. Bill would have loved them, as did we, his many friends who had gathered there.
The night before there was a concert at the local church, which I did not attend, but heard was packed with people remembering Bill and enjoying a program presented by members of the National Symphony.

In contrast, during the week, my friends, James and Alexis, gave a lunch (read feast) to celebrate James’ birthday. The food was Moroccan, the company international. One of the guests commented to me afterward, “I am always surprised anew at the interesting people one meets in Costa Rica.”

Life is interesting, but tenuous, at best. Perhaps the wisest thing we can do while we are here is to not worry and be happy. Easy for me to say. I’m in Costa Rica.

Jo Stuart is the author of the popular book about life in Costa Rica entitled, “Butterfly in the City.” To order a copy of her wonderful book please contact her at: jostuart@amcostarica.com