Don't Worry, Be Happy

I thought that upon moving to the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica I would undergo an artistic awakening, elevating my status of creativity to that of Van Gogh, Jackson Pollock, Salvador Dali, and Timothy Henry. I imagined that the lush jungle, filled with vibrantly colored flowers, exotic animals, and rare and exquisite birds would inspired in me paintings and art projects of epic proportions. The drive from California to the end of the road in Manzanillo was meant to stir to life hidden talents and untouched magic dwelling deep inside my self conscience.

This was not the case.

In my old apartment in Oakland, I spent many a nights sitting around with close friends painting anything and everything we could get our hands on, but I didn't feel like I was making any art that was truly great. Night after night, sitting on the floor, re-purposing someone elses trash into useful, colorful items for my house, I still felt stifled. It was like I couldn't breath. But in hindsight, the out pour of creative energy was massive. My friends and I would sit there for hours, listening to music and creating, so many different things that the house began to overflow with items we had painted, sewn, modge-podged, cut-up, and glued back together.

I have begun to realize why I was so inspired in Oakland and can't seem to pick up a paint brush in the Caribbean. I'm happy. I don't want to make a huge generalization about artitsts, but a large majority of great art is born out of great strife. Pain, misery, discontent, frusturation, these emotions lend an edge to us, which greats a dynamic, whereby we feel the need to express ourselves. For me, being unhappy in Oakland pushed me to create, and to write. It's this same, strange feeling of happiness that has lead to my writer's block. If I'm not complaining about the state of the world, the state of my country, or my city, or the state of my own mental health, what am I really talking about? And why? Who wants to read about someone who is so damn happy?

Another identity crisis has been born out of my newfound joy. For years I have been the friend that you come to with your problems. I'm really good at listening to people's problems, issues, helping them through hard times, giving them advice on how to change their life. My ability to empathize and relate to my friends through their dark times felt like my greatest talent that I had to offer, and I believe (who knows, though I could be wrong), that I helped a lot of people kickstart the next chapter in their life and deal with some of the challenges they were facing. Since leaving behind my own angst and dispair, I feel I am also losing this talent as well.

It's not that I can no longer empathize with others about their issues, it's just that I can't relate as much anymore. When I hear my friends complaining about their problems, I feel a disconnect.

I don't have anymore problems.

Sure, some things happen, like my dog getting sick and throwing up all night long. Or rain the day I did laundry so my clothes have to stay on the line for another sunny day. Sometimes the internet goes out and I have to go to my friend's hostel to do my online work, but other than that, I have no problems. My relationship is great. My house is great. My job is great. I love my life. My family is happy and healthy. My dogs get a walk to the beach everyday. My life is good. I live in the Caribbean and I ride my bike around this whacky little town that I now call home.

The only thing I have to complain about, is that I have nothing to complain about. And so begins the deconstruction of the narrative of my life as I have known it. Growing up in the United States it seems there are always problems. Big problems, national problems, crime, unemployment, poverty, over-crowded prisons, natural disasters, political scandals, divorce rates on the rise, illiterate children, teen moms, the list of horrible problems goes on and on. So, we as individuals are conditioned to believe that our lives are filled with insurmountable problems that also need solving before the next problem arises. My existence, up until now, has been problem solving, for myself and my friends. And when a problem was so great that I could not solve it, the emotions associated with that problem spilled out in the form of paint, poetry, and passion.

I'm not saying moving to a new place will immediately solve all your problems. A new location doesn't mean all your deep-seeded issues just melt away, but it can change the narrative that you've created for yourself. I'm not endorsing running away from your problems, either. That doesn't tend to work. But if there is a life you've envisioned for yourself, and you're not living it, find a way to make it happen. Define your own reality.

Maybe it's all the sunshine down here, all the tanned, attractive people biking around in bathing suits, or the fact that it's always happy hour at some bar in town. Maybe it's the organic vegetables and chicken that I eat, or the fresh seafood. Maybe it's the hummingbirds that come and say good morning every day while I sit on my porch. Who knows what is responsible for all this damn happiness. All I know is life is good. Now, I just need to find a way to create art out of this new-found happiness and see if joy can be just as responsible for great works of art as angst is.

Have a listen to this today, and Don't Worry, Be Happy.

I'm going, going, back back to Cali, Cali!

Plane tickets are booked and my affairs are in order. Well, that's not true, I have a lot of affairs to handle before my trip home in a few weeks. I have to change my bus ticket that proves I'm leaving Costa Rica after 3 months, per the law, book my shuttle and my hostel for my two nights in San Jose on either end of my trip, and move to a new house, but that will all take care of itself somehow, I'm sure. So, at least the plane tickets are booked!

My little nephew!!!!!!

My 2 week California adventure begins in Irvine with my sister, my brother-in-law, and my new nephew! I get to meet the little guy for the first time. He was born on July 5th so he will officially be 2 months, minus 1 day old, when I meet him. So excited to hold the little guy! I get to spend one week with the little man and begin my role as Cool Aunt Liz, or Crazy Aunt Liz, whichever seems more appropriate.

After my week in Irvine, I book it to Oakland and Martinez for a week of quality time with friends and parents. I'll stay in my old apartment, which 2 of my friends moved into when Jahsiah and I left for this crazy adventure. I'll get to go through some boxes of stuff that I left behind and determine if anything is worth bringing back down to the jungle. See friends, see folks, eat food that I've been missing, and be a city girl for a few days, before returning to my funky little beach town, hidden in the jungles of Costa Rica.

I did a whirlwind trip to Southern California back in March, returning for a family birthday party, for both my Grandpa and my Aunt. I was only there for 3 days, still managed to see almost my whole family on my Dad's side, and 2 of my best friends, Kat and Joanna, who happened to be in LA for a wedding event that weekend. It was crazy and fast paced, and while 2 weeks isn't a very long trip, it's going to seem like ages compared to the 3 days I spent in California a few months ago.

Me, Kat, and Joanna, lucky enough to spend one day together back in March.

Celebrating my Grandpa's and my Aunt Marilyn's Birthdays!!!!

I'm a little worried that I'm going to feel totally overwhelmed by life in California after almost 8 months living in the Caribbean. Life moves slowly down here, there is only one road, off of which all points of interest are located. I haven't seen or heard a commercial or a newspaper in a long time. There are no homeless people harassing me on the street when I have to go run an errand by myself. No parking tickets, no stop lights, no car alarms, no Starbucks, McDonalds, Chevrons, or any chain of any kind.


I might freak out. I probably will freak out. But I'm excited for a few things that I've started to get homesick for. While there a lot of things that I don't love about California and the Bay Area, there a lot of things that I do love, and miss, so here's a little list of things I want to do when I'm home:

• Drink good beer! In Costa Rica, there is a very limited selection of beer. Imperial, Pilsen, Imperial Silver, Pilsen Frost, Imperial Light. They are all very light, and I believe they are actually all the same beer, with different labels to make you feel like you have options. I can't wait to go to a bar, order something strong, an IPA, a red ale, a porter, a brown ale, probably one of each. Something on tap, not in a bottle and sip that beer, hopefully sitting outside feeling the California sun on my shoulders.
• Sip on some whiskey. Don't get me wrong, Guaro, Costa Rican cane alcohol, has it's time and place, and doing shot after shot on a Tasty Tuesday can be fun. But man, I'm ready for a shot of Maker's Mark that I can slowly sip on while sitting with my good friends and hearing about their lives over the past few months.
• East Chinese food. I want an egg roll. Enough said.
• Sit on my old stoop. My apartment in Oakland was home for 4 years, and while I was super ready to leave after those 4 years, that stoop holds many great memories for me. Long nights with friends, watching the sun come up, talking to the neighborhood folk as they pass by at all hours of the nights, mini therapy sessions to help everyone work out the awkwardness that are our 20's, hearing the mailbox vibrate from the music that is playing from Jahsiah's old studio, admiring the garden that we built with the help of so many people. That stoop, more so than any other place in Oakland, represents home. And I want to sit on it with my friends!
• See a play at Altarena. For over 3 years I worked as the Box Office Manager for the Altarena Playhouse in Alameda. I LOVED that job! Being surrounded by people that love the arts, that are passionate about what they are doing, the energy there was great and through that job I meet so many wonderful people, too many names to list. High up on that list is Star Valdez. And it just so happens, serendipitously, that I will be in Oakland for the closing weekend of The Odd Couple. I already have a date night planned with Kat to volunteer as wine pourers and see the show one night. High Street, my old stomping grounds! Get ready, I'm coming!
• Backyard BBQ. Fall in the Bay Area is the best time of year. Summer doesn't really hit until September and October, when the weather is at it's best, which means BBQs. My friends don't know this yet, but someone is going to throw a BBQ for me in their backyard, or maybe their front yard depending on who the lucky volunteer is. I want to have a day, since I really only have 1 week and that's not a lot of time to try and see everyone I love, where all my friends can come over, hang out, drink beer, play games, shot the shit, and eat good food. All the things that we do best. I have already been imagining this day and how much fun it's going to be. SO. EXCITED.

Now, there are a lot of other things that I really want to do while I'm in California. I want to see as much of my family and friends as is possible. I want to eat frozen yogurt with my sister. I want to go to the secret, silent hot tubs in Berkeley. I want to meet Kat's new dog and take her for a walk. I want to meet Joanna's roommates and see her new apartment. The list is getting pretty long the more I think about it. But, since I'll be arriving with just a backpack, not a lot of money, no wheels or mode of transportation, I'm going to be up for whatever. I figure I'll be like a pinball, and just bounce around wherever other people push me, and that's totally fine!

When I left Oakland, I was burnt on the place. But now after so many months and my upcoming trip, I'm becoming nostalgic for certain Oakland experiences. That's one of the greatest parts about traveling, you remember to love your home again. As always, I'll be sad leaving my dogs, and this time my boyfriend as well. But I think this trip will be really good for me to gain some more perspective as to what I'm doing in Costa Rica in the first place and what I hope to accomplish in the next few years of my life. Regardless of how it all works out, it's going to be a fun trip.

So mark your calenders, California! Liz Moore touches down on September 4th in Irvine and September 10th in Oakland. Get ready!!!!!!

P.S. Who wants to pick me up from the airport?

Chocolate, Chocolate, and more Chocolate!

I have been off work for the past week, enjoying some down time while the boys I work with are on a surf vacation in Nicaragua. We spent one week doing renovations at the bar and restaurant, Tasty Waves, giving the place a much needed make over. Since Wednesday, while the rest of the Tasty Waves front of house staff have been surfing and enjoying some Nicaraguan beach time in San Juan de Sur, I have been reveling in my free time. I have slept a lot, like, a lot a lot. Most days I've been sleeping about 11 hours, which has been fabulous! I love to sleep, and I love to wake up whenever I want, not to the sound of a little phone beeping at me. But, I did decide to take a break from all my sleeping and enjoy one of the activies of the Southern Caribbean, The Caribeans Chocolate Tour.

Caribeans is a bean-to-bar chocolate and coffee lounge. It's where Jahsiah and I sell the focaccia bread that we make. The owner, our friend Paul, had invited us a while back to join him on the tour so we could learn more about his operation. The chocolate at Caribeans comes from their farm, which is behind the coffee shop, about a 30 minute walk up the road, into the jungle. We decided the Saturday, 2pm tour would work best for our schedule and we meet at Caribeans, ready to taste some chocolate. Jeff, co-owner of the Caribeans operation, was our tour guide, and the other tour members consisted of a family from Texas, Mom, Dad, and daughter Chloe. We began our walk up the hill, a bit of a hill but still nothing compared to our driveway, and we quickly came upon our first cacao tree. The fruit of the tree is about the size of a mango, but looks a bit more like a sqaush, with a ridged surface. The fruit doesn't grow in the tops of the tress like most fruit, but rather sticks out oddly from different parts of the trunk. It doesn't look at all like chocolate.

Jeff pointed out the cacao tress and also taught us about other trees we were encountering, pointed out a few poison dart frogs that we passed, and showed us where we could probably locate sloths, based on which leaves they like to eat. As we ascended to the top of the hill,with howlers monkeys serenading our ascent,  we learned about the history of cacao. It originated in South America, most likely Venezula, and was transported by way of trade up through Central America and into Southern Mexico. Cacao used to be currency and was valued higher than gold. It became the drink of the gods and the Aztecs drank it ceremoniously. It dates back to 1,500 B.C.E. and remains of it have been founded in pottery DNA in Guatemala and other locations. Based on the origins of chocolate and the likely trade routes of pre-Colombian people, the Southern Caribbean was a probable stop on the chocolate road. When we reached the summit of the hill, with a view of the Caribbean Sea (the best view I've seen since we arrived here 5 months ago), I felt a little bit like Aztec nobility, ready to drink my beverage of the gods.

The beans inside the fruit. Photo courtesy of someoneone

 else, because I forgot my camera.

Jeff showed us how the beans, found inside the fruit, are removed, by hand, no fancy machines at this farm, and placed in a hole in the ground. The hole, with the beans inside, is covered and left for 2 days to begin the fermenting process. After 2 days, the beans are stirred and moved to another hole for 2 more days. This process is repeated one more time and then the beans are moved to trays to dry. The fermenting process takes 6 days, and the drying process takes 5 days, after which you have a dried chocolate bean, which looks something like a coffee bean, but much bigger. We learned that chocolate, in it's pure form, before Hersey gets a hold of it and ruins it, is so high in anti-oxidants that just two chocolate beans is comparable to 4 cups of blueberries. That's right, I said it, chocolate is good for you!

We then moved over to the tasting deck where the real fun began. Sitting on a wooden porch, over looking the panoramic sea view, we began our chocolate experience. Caribeans grows and harvests their own chocolate, but they also purchase beans from other farms in the area that don't have their own workshop to turn the chocolate from a bean into a bar. And since the trees only fruit about every 4 months, having several sources of beans helps them keep up with demand. We sampled chocolate from Bananito, Cocles, Hone Creek, and the Kekoldi  Indigenous Reserve. Each piece of chocolate was 72% cacao and 28% local sugar cane. Each one tasted so different! Jeff had us break the piece of chocolate to listen for the different "Snaps!" that the chocolate made. Then we smelled them, took small bites, savoring each piece and describing the different, unique tastes that each chocolate had. The different tastes could be from the soil where the trees are grown, the about of humidity in the air, or differences in the fermenting and drying processes. After we sampled the 4 chocolates on their own, we were given the Caribean's version of the Aztec ceremonial chocolate drink. Pure cacao, hot water, cayenne, vanilla, and honey all mixed together, served warm in little glasses. The heat of the cayenne plus the strong chocolate instantly made me feel powerful and ready to take on the world. No wonder it was the drink of the gods and consumed regularly by those wealthy enough to afford it.

We chased our chocolate shooters with, you guessed it, more chocolate! The same 4 chocolates we had tried before, were brought again, this time in smaller pieces, along with 2 trays of herbs and spices. One tray had cinamon, cayenne, curry, sea salt, black pepper, and ground coffee while the other had peppermint, ginger, lemongrass, cilantro, oregano, vanilla, and garlic. Yes folks, that right, raw, minced garlic. We were told to take pieces of the chocolate and make our own flavor combinations. One of my favorite was the garlic and curry powder combined. The ginger and lemongrass was also really good. And I liked the vanilla and cayenne. Ok, I liked all the combinations I tried. Who isn't going to like chocolate, plus amazing spices and herbs? And, the herbs all came from the little herb garden right next to the tasting deck.

So, hoped up on chocolate, we proceeded down to the workshop to see where the magic happens. Paul built the workshop himself with the intention of doing everything as low-tech as possible so that the process can be taught and replicated to other small cacao farmers. In the workshop, the beans are roasted, just like coffee beans and then the outer shells are removed in a grinder of sorts. Once the chocolate has been sifted from the shell, it gets put in what is called a melanger. This is sort of like a huge mortar and pestle, which grinds the coffee for about 72 hours until the natural oils begin to heat up and the roasted chocolate bean litteraly turns to liquid. That's it, nothing added, no water, no milk, no other liquid, just the dried bean, ground for 3 days, and BAM! Liquid gold! At this point in the process, you can add other flavors if you like, and this is usually when the 28% sugar gets up in the mix. We got to dip spoons straight into the melanger and lick off pure, fresh, warm chocolate, a la liking the cookie dough out of the bowl, or cleaning the brownie residue off the spoon, but let me tell you Toll House doesn't have diddly sqaut on Caribeans!

Roasted beans, also not my photo, because I suck at remembering to take my camera anywhere!

With one last treat, a sneak peak at a new flavor Paul is working on, we sampled a chai chocolate bar, which was delicious, and began our descent from chocolate heaven. Empowered by all that chocolate, the walk back was quick and we made it down the hill just before it started raining. The family from Texas had a great time and the little girl got her fill of chocolate. Jahsiah, who never liked chocolate before coming here and trying real chocolate, was excited to have learned more about the history of where we are, and I was simply content to have done something other than make drinks on a Saturday afternoon. We thanked Paul and Jeff and headed to the car, wanting to get home and feed the dogs.

It was a great experience to finally go on the chocolate tour. So much fun to learn about the history of cacao, the history of the area, explore a different part of this rich land, and taste so many delicious things. If you ever find yourself in the Puerto Viejo area, you have to do the Caribeans Chocolate Tour. You'll leave feeling god-like and with a suitcase filled with chocolate bars for your friends and family back home. That is if you can manage to not eat all the chocolate before you do, in fact, return home.


**Caribeans offers tours Tuesdays and Thursdays at 10am and 2pm
                                  Saturday at 2pm
The price is $26 per person. Reservations not required but recommended for large groups or for times other than listed.

Make Room Heaven, You've Got a New Ambassador!

Last night I watched a movie which wasn't particularly good, and I can't even tell you what it's called. But there was this scene, where a woman was crying after she had left her husband who she discovered had been cheating on her. And I thought to myself, it's been a long time since I've cried like that, or been sad enough to cry like that. I mean a real emotional breakdown. As odd as it sounds, I was a little jealous. To be so sad, to shed tears and feel pain of loss means you have loved something so much, that's the only way to create such sorrow. The past six months have been so great for me, finally driving to Costa Rica, finding a beautiful house, making new friends and getting an awesome job, I haven't had a reason to be sad in quite some time; until today.

This morning I checked my email and found a message from a old co-worker of mine from my job at The Altarena Playhouse. She was informing me of our good friend Rick James' failing health. He had been battling cancer, brain tumors, for the past few years and according to his girlfriend, was nearing the end of his journey. His girlfriend was urging those who loved him to send him letters, cards, or visit him to say goodbye. This news wasn't unexpected. He knew for quite sometime now that his cancer was terminal. As I sat down an hour later to write him an email, I saw another email that Rick has passed away this morning, peacefully, surrounded by loved ones.

Rick James came to be the Ambassador for The Altarena Playhouse around the same time that I began working there as the Box Office Manager in January of 2010. He had been involved with the playhouse before, but he created the role of Ambassador for himself, helping out with front of house duties, pouring wine, getting our season ticket holder numbers up from 600 when I started to over 800 by the time I left. He had a name tag and all, and he would wear it out around town in Alameda, where he was known and loved by many through his job as a middle school teacher, his involvement at church and his general friendliness.

Rick was one of those great people to be around. Always helpful in anyway possible. Eager to lend a hand, do a favor, excited to hear your stories and tell you his. He really came out of his shell in the years that I knew him. When our theater did its production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, he came dressed in fishnet stalkings and a lab coat every night. He always encouraged his students to come see shows and rewarded them with extra credit for being involved in and attending the theater. He knew how to have a good time, he loved wine and good food. He loved the arts, music, theater, song. He loved going to church. He loved teaching and being around his students. He kept doing everything he loved right up until the end. He knew his life was coming to an end, but he lived every last moment of it, and his energy rubbed off on everyone around him.

I didn't get to write him an email telling him how much he meant to me. I didn't get to say goodbye. I hate that. I don't doubt that he knew how much I loved him. He knew he was loved by a great many people. He was a good person, a special person. It's just always so hard to know that bright lights go dim before they should.

Today has been the coldest day I've experienced since I got to Costa Rica. I woke up to the rain. Recieved the sad news, and have been spending some time looking at old pictures and thinking fondly of my time with Rick. I feel blessed to have met him, and privledged to have been able to call him my friend. I feel sorry for those who did not know him, and I feel sorry for the community he is leaving behind. The rain hasn't stopped all day and I think the jungle is crying with me, aware that a beautiful soul has left us.

I'm drinking a bottle of cheap white wine, which Rick would have hated, he preferred reds. But I know he would have drank it with me anyways. Here's to you Rick James! I know Heaven has one hell of an Ambassador!

At the Cast Party for The Fantastiks

Needing Inspiration

I'm finally getting over being sick. I was really quite sick for about 2 weeks, while I was just starting at my new job. So, between training at Tasty Waves, running in and out of the bathroom, and sleeping for hours on end, I feel a little behind in day to day life. As happens, I got better. And with feeling better, I am feeling renewed, ready to seize the day! But, I need inspiration. Now, that might sound crazy living in the jungle, surrounding by amazing plants and animals and meeting new, crazy, interesting people all the time, but it's true, I need inspiration.

I went through some old poems today, ones I had written for an elite Facebook group that was formed way back when, The Poet Laureates of West Oakland. While the other poems are not up for grabs of reposting, as the group is private and respectful, I decided to post two of mine to this blog, so that more people than just our group members can give them a read. Please, if you have any poetry or creative writing that you would like to share with me, send it my way!

My goals for the next few weeks regarding creativity are:

• Complete one of the mixed media collages for Kickstarter Fullfillment
• Write one new poem to be posted in Poet Laureates of West Oakland and also on this blog

Let's see how I do!

 Untitiled

Still striving to survive in the shadowy stillness
You built this fortress for a damn good reason which you can't quite remember now, but you're pretty sure it's still worth fighting for, at least you hope.
Seeking guidance from a god-like guru who will help you do
what you know need now be done.
Your empire has become your prison, a labrynth so well fortified that even you can't find your way back out.

So well done! 

The jokes on you now so at least your laughter can echo off the empty walls for no one else to hear.
Time to get moving, put some pep in your step and if you leave now you just might catch the tail end of the double feature that's playing in the old familiar theater that's filled with people that you were supposed to meet there.

 

My Life

It all feels so fake.
Like I'm waking up for the first time to realize that all this is nothing more than
plastic pawns on a cheap, cardboard chessboard.
If it was carved from marble or mahogany, it wouldn't seem so bad.
But this, it's all I can do to wait for that day when I hear,
"Pass Go, Collect $200", and then, just like that,
Without waiting to say Sorry,
Like a Hungry Hippo, I'm off!

Down secret Chutes and up Hidden ladders.
If I hurry, I'll be gone before you have the chance to sink my battleship.
Careful! Don't break the ice or someone will notice I'm sneaking out, through the Ballroom, with the revolver, and Mrs. Peacock is on my ass!
If I can just make it through this Candy Land of distractions and demons.
One wrong move, and KeRplUnK! It could all be over before I know it.

But like Magic Gathering, there are tricks up my sleeve.
And I'm willing to take the Risk, because you have no idea how well I know my way around this Mousetrap.
I have moves like you've never seen, the likes of which will Boggle your mind.
I will get out of this Barrel of Monkeys and when I do, I'll be the one yelling
YAHTZEE!

Because this is no Trivial Pursuit here.
This is my Life.
And this is one game, I plan on winning.

**Warning: The game is rigged. You can't lose if you don't play the game.

 

 

Lost In Puerto Viejo

You can see how easy it is to get lost here. There are less than 20 streets.

Well, you may be relieved to hear, that even in 2013, with Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pintrest, Gmail, Smartphones and Iphones, and whatever other technological advances you can think of, there are still places in this world where you can unplug. It is still possible to disconnect, leave it all behind, forget your cares and worries, and for a short time, listen to the waves crash on the shore, watch monkeys play in the tress, and drink coconuts and beer till your heart's content. Now, there is plenty of debate as to whether or not checking out from the fast-speed, modern world is healthy. Some people might argue that this is a sign of depression. By not partcipating in the social media world, you are distancing yourself from your friends and family. That your lack of interest in social elements is a sign that you are mentally unstable. I'm no expert on the subject of how much interneting is "normal" or "healthy", but I will tell you one thing, it has been great getting lost in Puerto Viejo.

We've been living in Costa Rica for three months now. We left Oakland over four months ago, and while I

The view of our front porch.

was worried I might be homesick by this point, quite the opposite is true. I feel as though I've only just skimmed the surface of what this place has to offer. And during this time, I checked out of "real life", or whatever you want to call the norms of the first world. I haven't been on Facebook much, I stopped using my smartphone, which only acted like a mini computer, and I rarely have checked my email. I have been working, at a new bar since the last time I wrote. I am now an employee at Tasty Waves, a great little surf bar, owned and operated for the past two years by a guy from Huntington Beach, California. It's a small, close-knit staff, good food, closer to home than the previous job, so I can bike there (when it's not raining), and it's where Jahsiah and I had been spending most of time and money anyways, so it's working out perfectly. Monday night is Movie Night, Tuesday night there is live music, followed by an awesome party, and on Thursdays, there is a weekly Trivia Game, which we have yet to win. It's a bar where, you guessed it, everyone knows your name.

In addition to that, Jahsiah and I are helping to form a Community Garden Project. Touching on our past experiences working in the non-profit world, we are building a grassroots movement to help ensure that there are no families in the area that are without fresh food. The project is just in the early stages, but it's nice to be involved in something that serves other people and puts us more in touch with the folks that actually live here, rather than just vacation here.

That being said, after Easter, we officially reached slow season in the Caribbean. The crowds have died down and most times, Puerto Viejo looks like a ghost town. Lots of hostels, bars, and restaurants, with their lights on but nary a patron in sight. This will be a challenging time financially, as business is slow, but a great time to get to know the real Puerto Viejo, calm in the absence of Ticos on vacation, Northerners escaping the cold, and Spring Breakers looking for a non-stop party.

We've had a few other events take place in the past few months. Our first visitor came to stay with us. Jahsiah's friend from New York was in town, just for a few days, to catch some surf and check out the area. At the end of his trip, we said goodbye, not just to him, but also to our travel mate, Timmy. He headed back to California, which allowed the reality of us living here, to sink in. On our trip, it felt like just a trip, a time to see Mexico and Central America, with the goal of living in Costa Rica. But since Timmy was never planning on staying, his departure marked the moment when Jahsian and I realized, "Oh shit, we really do live here!". So, we've been getting used to this jungle house with just us and the dogs here. We've had bats galoure in the house lately, and every morning, there are several humming birds that fly in and out of the windows, look us in the eye, say good morning, and then as quickly as they appeared, they leave again. We still hear the monkeys every morning, and usually right before it starts to rain.

We make bread to sell at Caribbeans, a local coffee and chocolate shop (convinently located next door to

Liz and Jahsiah's Herb and Cheese Focaccia.

Tasty Waves), we walk the dogs around the property and sometimes take them to the beach so LaDainian can attack the waves. Life keeps on going, much like it did in Oakland, but the surroundings are obviously quite different. The pace of life is slow here. And I got what I wanted, more trees than people, more face to face conversations, less texting and Facebooking, no time cards to punch, no touch screen POS systems to track your sales, and if you ever don't have enough money at the end of the night, well that's OK, you can always come back tomorrow and pay your tab.

So, for me, it's been easy to unplug. And while I feel a little guilty about not staying up on my social media game, I have to say, it's been nice being lost in space and time. Existing in a realm where neighbors watch out for each other, owners of businesses are still working along side their employees, and bathing suits count as proper work attire.

Smile, you're in the Caribbean.

And now, some pictures of mushrooms and where we live.

For scale. Everything is bigger down here.

After the rain.

The road to our house.

Wild Oyster Mushrooms.

Where we walk dogs.

Rum Runners

Tomorrow is March 1st, which means we have been living in our Jungle Mansion for one month, which also means we have now been in Costa Rica for as long as we were on the road. During this time, we have meet a lot of interesting characters and had a handful of different experiences. One of the best is the notorious Panama Run.

Groceries, among other items are very expensive here, with this being the proverbial end of the road. As such, beer, wine and liquor is also quite expensive. When we asked where one could find cheaper products, thinking maybe we would have to go to Limon, the nearest big city, or all the way to San Jose, to find better deals or bulk items, we were told that for alcohol, we would need to go to Panama. As we are only about 30 minutes to the border crossing at Sixaola, this didn't seem like that crazy of an adventure. We decided to ask our neighbors, Rick and Kathleen, if they could tell us directions for the Panama Run. We had been introduced to our neighbors on the road back from our houses the day we decided to rent this house. We had seen them out a few more times, but had yet to hold a real conversation with them. When we saw them at Trivia Night on Thursday at Tasty Waves, an event that has become our marker for the passage of time, I decided to strike up a conversation and get to know the two of them. They have been living in Costa Rica for about a year and half but have been traveling down in this country for a number of years. They rent two properties on the same "farm" where we live, and essentially, we are the only people living back here. From South Carolina, in their 60's, their personalities shine. They are friendly, funny, at times brutally honest and vulgar, and lots of fun to spend the evening with.

At Trivia Night, I asked Rick if he could explain the roads to Panama, or maybe even draw us a map. Roads down here are not labeled, and with nothing but jungle all around, it can be a little confusing finding your way places. He said he could explain the way, or even draw a map, but what would be better, would be if he came with us for our first run, so we would know how to do it in the future. Agreeing that this sounded like a good plan, we made a date for the following Saturday. We headed over to their house around noon on Saturday and our day began. After stopping at Tasty Waves and The Point to grab beers, since if we were going to have a day out, why not make it a good day, we continued on our journey.

Heading out of town, we turned off on the road toward Sixaola, but we didn't stay on that road. We took another turn and yet another until we wound up on a dirt road, with a sea of banana plantations to either side. Green leaves went on forever in every direction. At the end of our dirt road, we reached a river bank. There was a small cart selling pipas (coconuts) and some food. A few cars were parked on the bank and a team of men ran a set of two boats. In order to cross into Panama without the bureaucracy of the border officials, this boat system has been set up to take people back and forth across the river, to where on the Panamanian side, you find duty free shops with booze, electronics, and clothing. The river is not particularly wide or deep, although it was deep enough for one young kid to be enjoying a swim in the hot afternoon sun, but the boats are necessary so that when you cross back, your goods don't get wet. We got into the boat with two other women and made our way across the river to a sand bank, where you get out of your first boat, and transfer to your second boat. On the shore of Panama, you climb the steps to the duty free liquor store, and as Rick said, you're like a kid in a candy shop.

Not only do they have a larger selection than you will find anywhere on the Caribbean side of Costa Rica, but everything is cheap! Fifths of Jameson for $10, 24-packs of Milwaukee's Best for $9 (yeah, I know it's Milwaukee's Best, but hey, it's $9) Patron for $20, decent bottles of wine for anywhere from $3 to $12, Baileys, Kahlua, Flor de Cana Rum, Johhnie Walker Black and Red, Vodka, Gin, anything you could think of! (Note: this store would not be so amazing in the States, but down here where your only options are 6-packs of Imperial or Pilsen for $10, this place is a wonderland.) We gave ourselves a $100 limit for the three of us to stock up so we wouldn't need to spend so much money on having a beer once in a while. Rick got a few things for himself and after about 20 minutes, we made our purchases and headed back to the boats.

Once back across the river, we tipped our boatmen, who share in the money they make, seemingly without issues. We loaded up the car with the help of the boatmen, and started our drive back. "Now, is where the real rush begins," Rick informed us. The dirt road leading back to the main road is where the cops will stop you. Some days they wait, concealed in the banana plantations, to pull you over and take what you have just purchased. Nothing more than that takes place, no ticket, no reporting you to Immigration, they simply help themselves to your bounty, which should be expected every once in a while when one is partaking in illegal rum running across international borders. We were lucky, no search and seizure this day.

We drove home, with one more stop at The Point to celebrate our success. It was just getting dark when we got back to the "farm" so we sat with Rick and Kathleen and enjoyed our spoils. We heard more of their stories from their early days together and learned more history of the place where we are living. In the end, not only had we succeeded in becoming Rum Runners, but we also bonded with our amazing neighbors. Friendship and booze, what's better than that?

 * I had brought my camera in hopes to document the day, but considering what we were doing was illegal, I decided it best not to have evidence of said illegal activity.