first days ...

I always forget what a comfort it is to return to a place I've been before. We're in Costa Rica, staying with brother Tom (or Tommy as I still call him) and his family. We left Boston, neatly avoiding a near-blizzard (it was raining on our departure but the weathermen were still threatening snow). We traveled mostly with other Americans, but on our various flights, I spoke to an Israeli (headed to Tel Aviv) and an Italian who spoke almost no Spanish and couldn't communicate in French or English. Between us, we barely muddled through, I not sure which language he was speaking, but we managed to get the important points across.

It's warm here, but not overly so. The sky is deep blue, perhaps because the winds moved through yesterday. Though perhaps the winds move through every day. I had forgotten about "Ropa Americana," signs for which are displayed all over the country, even in the remotest, dustiest corners. I finally learned on my last visit that it's not clothing in the American style, but rather, used clothing that's shipped down here in containers. They also have stores advertising "Rosti Pollo," selling chickens that have been roasted on spits over open fires. Oh, and the cars must have a lot of problems with their emissions systems, because many makeshift stores advertise "Muflas."

We went to the grocery store yesterday -- seven-year old Santiago, my brother, Robert, and I. Many of the brands are familiar -- Muir Glen and Pastene tomatoes, for example -- but there's a newish Costa Rican organic brand, Bio-Land. And of course, the produce section is usually fun to browse through. But the best part was the traveling circus we brought with us -- Santiago. We got him a cart with a little car in front (like in American grocery stores), but he doesn't ride inside the car. No, no, no. He uses the car as his stage and rides on top as if he's a bowsprit, singing at the top of his lungs, shouting out, grabbing onto the corners of the aisles. And then suddenly, he jumps off and grabs something off the shelf and puts it in the cart and hops back on. (He's good about getting parental approval, though.) He also rides underneath the cart, popping out at unexpected times and giving a shout before sliding back under. The Costa Ricans in the store were a little puzzled, the Americans a tad amused.

His songs are not particularly familiar, just whatever's in his head. This morning, between his own rambling musings, he was training his younger sister (as a director would) to say "Ladies and Gentleman! Welcome.... to the Haunted.... House!!!" except that she kept saying in her high three-year old voice "Ladies and gentleman! Come... to the Halloween house!!!" The grownups compared notes later -- we were all lying in bed trying to stifle our giggles.

Tom and Trish have had some duties at the school last night and today (oddly, the school is celebrating its 21st anniversary after somehow missing the 20th last year), and then I imagine we'll spend some more time together. So Robert and I have been catching up on reading, playing with the young cat who's just joined the household, and we took a walk yesterday. In two days, we go to the mountains, and when we come back, we'll go to the seashore with the whole family.

My Spanish is coming back little by little. I can manage to say the essentials, though it's hard to have a lasting or meaningful conversation. And even though I have the structure of the language down (at least in my head), the vocabulary keeps escaping me. I'm weakest at numbers, though I do remember how to say two essential things, "Mas despacio, por favor," and "Escribelo por favor" -- requests to speak more slowly or to write something out.

People here are friendly and curious, fiercely proud without being macho about it, delighted to have tourists visit, patient with our pitiful attempts to speak the language, and willing to meet us half way. The people make it an especial pleasure to come visit. These days, I like to say that there are so many places that want us that I'm not that interested in visiting the places that don't. And fortunately, Costa Rica (so far) feels like it's in the former category rather than the latter.