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GOLDEN GRINGO CHRONICLES |
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"Doing Latin America, Mostly by Luck" 30th Edition - February 2011 |
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Broken News The standard Tico work week is heavy duty, 6 days (48 hours). The standard vacation time is two weeks after one year; I haven't been able to find any source that says the amount of vacation time goes up with more years of service. To partially make up for this hard schedule, workers receive an extra month's salary at Christmas time (like their European counterparts) and are allowed to take, by law, up to 11 holidays, 9 of which are paid. The table below shows the national holiday schedule for 2011.
Fiesta Fever Nobody likes a festival more than a Tico (and certain gringo residents). During the big holidays of Christmas and New Year's, when there are already numerous religious and non-religious parties going on for kids and adults alike, other fiestas abound. There's room for many other fiestas of all types and the early months of the year bring them out in Ticoland. We are not talking here about all the cultural activities that abound in San José at places like the National Theater. Those are extra. We're talking about the more interesting and different festivals all over the country. Here's a sampling from some recent schedules:
Shortly after completion of the Festival weekend for the San José bull festival, a newspaper reported the following: "The bull ring at the Zapote fairgrounds produced 119 cases for the Cruz Roja (this organization is known as the Red Cross in Rio Linda - ed.). That is more than the 116 cases treated from the rest of the fairgrounds. And the cases from the bull ring or rondel were more badly hurt in some cases. Only 30 persons had to be taken to a hospital." I bet the Imperial and Pilsen was flowing heavily before, during and after throwing the bull.
One of the things I love about this country is that people are always ready to have a celebration, a fiesta. And they manage to do this even with a 6-day work week. Pura vida! Nica Invasion Update The Chronicles reported last month on the Nicaraguan aggression along Costa Rica's northeastern border (see: INVASION). We also reported one objective of this "annexation" might be to create a new river mouth as a prelude to building a Panama-type canal. Another idea that popped up this month was the possibility that the Nica government wants to put a new port in the disputed region. The new port would be suitable for cruise ships and could be combined with a new airport planned for southeastern Nicaragua to give a big boost to tourism in Nicaragua and, perhaps, steal some tourist business from Costa Rica. That's a second theory anyway. Señor Ortega and the Nicaraguan government might try to understand that ultimately it's not the infrastructure that builds tourist and ex-patriot attraction as has been done in Costa Rica, but rather it's the stable investment climate as well as the ambiance and friendliness of the natives towards outsiders that builds success. Chopping off a piece of your neighbor's yard by force is not a good example of friendliness. Linking yourself to Hugo Chavez' star does not build confidence in Nicaragua as an investment opportunity. Go home Danny Ortega. Rosalita's Secret & Los Variadades
GG and another ROMEO were wandering through barrio Los Angeles (also known as our neighborhood) a short while ago when we came across a new store. The store is located near the Monge Memorial Bridge. (go here for MAP of Quepos and bridge location) The large sign on the store front proclaims "Steven's solo íntima" - in Rio Linda this would be "Steven's Intimate Apparel". Yes Dorothy, we now have the Quepos equivalent of Victoria's Secret right here in Quepoland (that's like Chicagoland only a bit smaller). Pura Vida! There was a gentleman sitting behind the counter when we first found the store but I didn't have time to stop and introduce myself. You know how it is, the press of meetings with beach vendors, keeping up with the Nica war etc. can keep a retired ROMEO tres occupado (just can't resist mixing Spanglish with Franglais). When I get a chance, I'll have to stop back and introduce myself to Steve-o as I have a suggestion he might consider.
My guess is that Variadades Jhonan can't be more than about 70 square meters (800 square feet) floor space; but it is literally packed to the rafters with "stuff". To inspect an item, one often has to call upon an attendant to use a pole to bring down an item to floor level. There is so much stuff piled in the aisles that sometimes it is virtually impossible for two people to pass each other - one has to back up to the top of the aisle and yield to the person coming the other way (much like the old one-lane bridges). I'm sure the place wouldn't pass any town's fire code in the States but here it's part of the charm. There is no bar coding of items - everything has a hand-written price sticker on it and is rung up on the register without wanding. While I was writing this, I glanced around the apartment and noticed a rather wide variety of things I've purchased so far from Variadades Jhonan. They include: bed sheets and pillow cases (2 sets), bed pillows (3), throw pillows (2), bath towels (2 sets), beach towels (2), clothes hamper, pots for plants (4), a wall mounted toilet paper dispenser, shower curtain, assorted supplementary dinnerware, frying pans (2), scissors, a plastic stool, a waste basket, small throw rugs (2), electrical extension cord, plain letter envelopes (yeah, really), back brush for the shower, toilet brush, wooden back scratcher, fly swatter, waste basket, 2 umbrellas (the remainder of the nine I've purchased there so far and forgotten all over town), Christmas decorations for my Hanukkah bush, sunglasses (similar number to the umbrellas), floor mop, spiral notebooks for Spanish lessons (2)... I suspect there would be more if I kept looking. Considering I rent a furnished apartment, it appears that I have virtually completed its outfitting, and the outfitting of my life, at Variadades Jhonan. Recently, a visitor to Quepos asked me to help him find a microwave he wanted to give his host as a present for letting him stay at his home. Of course, we first visited the usual appliance stores in town, of which there are several, but he couldn't find what he wanted. We were walking by VJ and I blurted out "Well, we can stop here but it's not the kind of thing they should have". Oh ye of little faith, GG. Sure enough there were four of the type and size my friend was looking for tucked away in a back corner of the store. He bought one. Variadades Jhonan is virtually the Wal-Mart of Quepos. I could probably get along if almost any other business in Quepos were to shut its doors but if Variadades Jhonan disappeared I think I would have to enter psychotherapy for grief treatment.
What's-in-a-Word Department SodaOur hero spent his formative years in a small town 35 miles from Boston on the cold North Shore of Massachusetts. It wasn't until the age of 14 that I took my first road trip across state lines, other than going with my Dad on regular car runs to New Hampshire to buy cheaper booze. It was around that tender age that I went with my parents to see my newly married sister in Detroit. Looking back at that trip now, over 50 years ago, I can only remember two significant discoveries on that voyage. Firstly, traversing Eastern Canada by rail between Buffalo and Detroit and gazing out the window of the railcar sure brought us through a lot of mono-colored wheat fields (brown, ca-chink, brown, ca-chink, brown, ca-chink).
It's nice to see that the friendly neighborhood business concept is still alive and well somewhere in the world. We have a sister village about 70 klicks (40 miles in Rio Linda parlance) north of us that is very popular with gringos, Canadians, Europeans and assorted surfer yoots (humans under 30). The town's name is Jacó. It's pronounced Hah-ko, with the emphasis on the second syllable. That's what that little mark over the last syllable in the title above, called a "tilde", is all about. It helps the user put the pronunciation emphasis in the right place. Lacking a tilde, the emphasis is almost always placed on the second to last syllable of any Spanish word (don't ask - it's just the way it is; well of course there's also the diphthong rule - no GG , don't go any further). Jacó is not Jack-oh or Yach-oh. I couldn't stop laughing recently while watching a TV show about Costa Rica on the Travel & Leisure channel. The segment featured a group of a half a dozen or so young people (to me, that's anyone under 50 these days) that had been commissioned to explore Latin America and report their opinions. (Schweeet job, amigos, I'm available for assignment if and when you need another evaluator). The team gave their report on Ticoland including a 15 minute segment on Jacó. Evidently their group conscience dictated they should pronounce this town Yach-oh. Over and over I heard this mal-articulation of the poor town's name while they wandered around the village and tried to surf on Jacó beach (badly of course - OK, OK, so I'm critical because I'm jealous of the job they have, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah). If you want to sound less like a tourist and more like a seasoned or sensitive visitor, try using the correct pronunciation for our towns. For additional dubious guidance on how to pronounce local names, go HERE. WARNING: It might be best for vegetarians, the squemish and those overly concerned with free flowing arteries to by-pass this article. The Chicharron Festival was mentioned in the Broken News segment above. Chicharrones (chi-cha-roh-knees) are pieces of pork deep fried and often cooked out in the open in a large vat of rendered pork fat over a wood fire. Chicharones are very popular all over Costa Rica. Uncooked chicharone pieces are available at many butcher shops and the fried versions are on many restaurant menus. Some restaurants are dedicated to this specialty and are called Chicharroneras. A word of caution: some menus have two types of Chicharrones, the meat version and something akin to a pork rind. Having never been a fan or connoisseur of pork rinds, GG always asks for the meat version. A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, before GG had become GG, I was first introduced to Chicharrones during a visit to Ticoland in 2003. I was staying in Manuel Antonio with a couple of reprobates who owned a beautiful house on the side of the mountain that faced the Savegre River Valley and mountain range to the southeast. One day one of my friends said, "C'mon, we're going to lunch". Says I: "Where?", Says he: "You'll see." I love a good mystery so we jumped into my friend's car and headed north out of Quepos on the road to San José. After about 10 klicks or so he abruptly turned right into the middle of a palm oil farm. The sign at the head of this unpaved side road said "Las Vegas" and pointed into a large palm tree plantation. After about two kilometers we reached a T in the road and took a right, followed by another kilometer and then a left. In about 300 meters, we pulled up at a wide spot in the road where, under the shade trees, was nestled a very simple restaurant with about four tables protected by a corrugated metal roof.
Needless to say, this stunned the hell out of the poor creature, but it didn't kill him, prompting the cerdo slayer to whack him a few more times until the critter finally gave up the ghost. The man dragged the carcass back to the huts where the women immediately began butchering the hog into large and small pieces, into chicharones and roasts and hams and bacon and what-have-you. My host just sat there with an irrepressible grin on his face watching for my reaction having surprised me with this performance. I was simply speechless. After a while, a large platter piled up with hot chicharones, arrived at table accompanied by another heaping platter of yucca (also fried in the pork fat). Along came an assortment of condiments and the inevitable limone wedges to sprinkle that wonderfully tart juice over the meat. The pork was incredibly tender and tasty. The yucca was the best I've ever had, even to this day. I have been back to this restaurant one more time since then and the product was just as good as it was the first time. On the second visit, however, there was no machete-wacking performance and I'm told that the restaurant padron has decided not to do butchering in front of lunch patrons any longer. Good idea, amigo. I've never had better pork than at this eat-in-the-ruff place; and certainly none fresher.
Location: On the bay side of the main road about 1 kilometer south of Golfito Center Three ROMEOS decided to take a field trip down the coast to Golfito (my unscientific guesstimate was that Quepos to Golfito was 150 kilometers one way) for the express purpose of taking advantage of the duty-free zone that has been established there by the government. Accordingly, prices on electronic devices and appliances are often 30-40% lower than any other place in Costa Rica, putting them on a par with standard U.S. pricing of such items and almost as cheap as Panamá. The zone is called the "deposito" and the rules require one to stay overnight or at least to pick up your purchase the next day. So we looked for a hotel/motel to meet the unenlightened bureaucratic requirement of staying overnight (I'm biting my tongue so as not to bore you with an extensive dissertation on misguided government practices I call "commercialism by capture"). Here's a Tip: Make this trip in the middle of the week when crowds are smaller and motel rooms more available. We arrived on Friday and left Saturday morning. The crowds on Saturday were substantial and finding an adequate motel on Friday night was difficult. After three tries, we found a motel that could accommodate three of us (who needs Fodor's or TripAdvisor when you can bludgeon you're way through life in this adventurous way). The rooms we finally found were CRB level - Costa Rica Basic - i.e., clean, very little in the way of accoutrements, no A/C and offering only a cold shower; yeeeeah, baby, mountain water in the morning sure gets you moving - Pura Vida!. (So GG, waddayawant for twenty bucks a night - one place that turned us down was $98)
Our waiter was efficient, courteous and helpful. As I often do, I asked where he was from and he replied Golfito. I like to ask that question because many wait staff at tropical resort areas have emigrated from other climes, like Nome. I must admit, however, that our guy did not look Chinook.
The basic conclusion about the Fish Hook is that the atmosphere is above average because of the bay view, the service is adequate, the food is average and the deal is fully priced. That sounds like 3 sloths and 4 dollar marks to me.
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