As I was packing up school lunches, I read the “communications” book my daughter comes home with every day. It is a green notebook with notes from her teacher about school. It’s quite a good system. If there’s a field trip, or special dress day, or a note I need to send to the teacher, I write in it. I try to glance at it immediately after every school day in case there’s an assignment for me “to do.” I forgot to look Friday, and I paid for it. Sunday night I had to trudge to the market and get a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly for a gift basket for the school’s janitor and lunch lady.

The supermarket was jammed. Why? I thought. Shouldn’t all you people be home on a Sunday night? Especially since it is pouring rain!! It took me ten minutes to find a place to park. I bumped into people up and down the isles, checked out, flipped my sweatshirt hood back up, and walked back to the car.

As the rainy season starts, we get a few good downpours as if mother nature says: Remember me? Do you remember where your umbrella is? When I’m without the kids, I often go without the umbrella and just get a little wet. The flowers here provide a lesson in durability. The delicate ones eventually wash away. A great many like the heliconias have a waxy skin that lets the rain roll off it’s back, much like a duck. Their roots will bind up a clump of dirt so hard, it would take a backhoe to get them out. For a long time, I sought books as one of my greatest teachers. Can’t get enough of them. As Heinrich Mann said:

A house without books is like a room without windows.

They offer insights and vision into the world.

And flowers? This is the world we are. If the world were filled with flowers, maybe we could be as grounded as they are and all that discomfort would just roll off our backs, even on Sunday nights in search of raspberry jelly.

Vendors beckoned people in the mall to try their product. And, it was crowded. I needed to pay a bill and pick up something at the grocery store, so there I was, one of the many.

I noticed a boy, about eleven or twelve standing behind his mother. She was trying some new-fangled coffee. He had Down Syndrome. I paused and stood behind a kiosk selling fountains, crystals, and Buddhas. I didn’t want to look creepy by staring, but there is this need to try to figure out in some way what is ahead. I’ve seen hundreds, possibly thousands of photos of kids with trisomy 21, and I’m accustomed to the one-dimensional view. My son is so familiar to me, but sometimes the future seems so unknown. Will he live with me for the rest of his life? Drive? Be tall? Short? I don’t have as much of this feeling with my daughter. She also reveals little glimpses of herself as a teenager by rolling her eyes at me, being a bit snippy with me, or wanting to put on make-up before we go shopping.Addison’s development stays so much in the now, I can’t clearly put this picture together of what is all coming. I mean I don’t have his charts done or obsess what he’s going to “be” or “look like.” It’s just a small curiosity that surfaces, especially when I see another child with Downs.

The woman handing out the coffee gave the boy a yellow balloon. He waited behind his mother as she tried another flavor. The balloon was on a stick and he flapped it back and forth with the intent and focus of a small child that had never seen such a thing before. Then, the vendor asked how he was. He got a little shy and answered and then took a few steps back to his mother. He placed his hand on her back and whispered something into her ear. They smiled together as if they knew some grand secret. Tears tingled behind behind eyes. The mother took her coffee sample and the pair walked off to the next booth. I turned and as I left, I had a better sense of exactly what I was getting into.

Since moving to Costa Rica, I’ve done what so many other soft hearts have done: rescued dogs. But for me, it didn’t start in Central America. I had this “habit” for years. In the States, I adopted two mutts (while at the same time finding homes for so many others) and lugged them down here in addition to another dog and I cat. Since those have died, it seemed the Universe knew I was ripe to take in a few more. I found Buddha, along with her seven siblings, in sort of a “nest” on a walk one day. Long story short, we found homes for all seven; got most of the females spayed; and took home this one: This really active, high strung, super intelligent one. I think she faked being the shy one in the corner when I would visit the foster home to help pick off flees and bath the wild group of puppies and their mother. When she looked at me with those eyes, I was sunk.

Then a few months later the other one Canella - Cinnamon - hung out in a gutter during the rainy season and wagged her tail as I walked by every day with Coco in the morning. Another long story short, this canine one day decided I wasn’t going to get away (o.k. maybe it had something to do with the turkey baloney I fed her for a few days). Well, she gained enough strength to follow me home with a broken leg. Who could resist a raggedy dog, limping, big brown eyes leading a soulfully wagging tail?

When separation of a family happens, everything must be divided up, including animals. I had to leave the dogs behind. And now with a special needs child, I can’t manage the energy it takes to handle dogs. Just keeping up with the guinea pigs is enough. On the day I left them, I spilled this huge jug of yogurt from my organic food delivery. Buddha and Canela were right there to help me out with the clean up. There are things I miss about the dogs, but I have come to terms with where I am at and let go. I know they are well taken care of, and I even get to see them once and awhile. The best thing they’ve taught me? their complete surrender to this moment. I threw them a biscuit and hoped that I too will be like them: flea free, waggin’ my tail, and totally present. Bark. Bark.

What are those important questions to ask when considering a move to Costa Rica? Location? Schools? Climate? Hospitals? Prices? How about: Where in the world am I going to shop?

Grocery shopping is about as fun as laying down roofing. But if it’s not done, we’re going to suffer the consequences. Yesterday I was down to miso soup mix, chocolate chips, and vinegar in my cupboards. I put off that inevitable trip to the grocery store because I was too tired from a few restless nights with my son who I’ve decided either has the world’s longest cold or is allergic to the entire planet. Anyway….

I get asked a lot where do I shop for _________?? fill in the blank. Organic food, imported food (which means usually brands from the U.S. or Europe), meat….and on to other items such as clothes for kids, linen, caulk, sink strainers, laundry hoses, rugs, and socks. (I’m having trouble with that one myself since almost every kid in the country needs a certain color of socks to go with the uniform.) So, I’m starting a new section - find under Catergory - SHOPPING in COSTA RICA.

When I moved here ten years ago, I never walked into a “real” grocery store. In my travels around the country prior to my immigrating to Costa Rica, I stopped in pulperias - sodas - and didn’t know where I could find black olives, feta cheese, or those chocolate chips my daughter eats with every meal. I was so terrified I’d be without the basic products I’d grown so accustomed to, I even hauled down toilet paper, bathroom cleaner, and mops.* Fear no more! It’s almost all here. And over time, I’ve been lugging less back to Costa Rica in my suitcase when I make trips to visit the family back in the homeland.

The miso/chocolate/vinegar soup was not appealing, so I trudged on over to Auto Mercado. This is the store I choose the most often to shop. Why?

1). It’s close to my home.

2). It usually has the most variety of what I want, and it saves me running around time, which is invaluable for me as a single parent.

3). I save money in gas.

Since I live so close to an Auto Mercado it’s laughable that I drive, but I knew my load would be bigger than sixteen bread baskets so I parked and ran in during the hour Addison was at gym class. Once there, it’s not so bad. I focus and do short breathing exercises and then begin the ritual of walking up and down the isles while checking my list and trying to remember all the items I’ve forgotten on the list. Auto Mercado has more imported goods than most stores. If an item by item tough price comparison was done, Auto Mercado might be a bit higher on some things, especially the imported stuff. But I do not buy large quantities and believe I get the same or equal value to other stores.

I like their fruits and vegetables section. It’s laboriously attended to, clean, and even has a small organic section. The bread has improved a lot over the years in Costa Rica. When I first came here, it was heartbreaking to buy a loaf of bread, which looked fabulous in the store until I got home to find chunks of Numar (a widely used margarine) throughout the bread - whole and undissolved! There’s finally more varieties such as whole wheat, and I’ve even seen olive pesto bread.

And I kid you not: the clerks working at Auto Mercado are always nice and attend calmly and efficiently to their job. Not one person has ever cracked their gum and basically ignored that I was human being, not to mention a paying customer, while I’ve checked out. Of course there’s a few exceptions over the ten years of frequenting this store throughout the entire city of San Jose - San Pedro, Los Yoses, downtown San Jose, Rohmoser, Escazu, and Santa Ana - but I can always count on a buenos dias and gracias while I pay. And though I’ve never used the service, they deliver too. In a few days ago, I discovered they’re even making a little effort in “thinking green.”

So take comfort in knowing that most of your shopping needs will be met. If not in Auto Mercado, you can try Mas por Menos, Pricesmart, Pali, or Fresh Market. This is a boom town, and I have a feeling even more is on the way. And when all is unpacked and put in the cupboards I can move on to those other important things like getting that roof done.

*I still search for that perfect mop as I can not quite get used to washing out the mechas - white string like mop head - by hand like the Ticas do.

All of a sudden I look at a photo, and I am blown away at how much my kids have grown. Teeth fall out; teeth come in. Freckles sprout; feet outgrow shoes. When I step back, I see miniature grown-ups. Coco limped off to school today because her knee hurt. She twisted it while running. Sounds like something I would say. All grown up. She brings home this homework that’s full of intellectual stuff “we all” have decided is important: solids, vertices, nouns, verbs, spelling, geography…..

Which way is north? I asked her.

That’s easy mom, as she points upwards.

What if east was over here? I ask her, where would north be then? She adjusts her body a bit; thinks, and appropriately points to north.

Would you like to take the compass to school tomorrow? I asked her as we finished up the evening book and talked for a few minutes before turning on the light.

No! Mommy, she said as tears welled up in her eyes and her voice cracked with every syllable. That’s yours, and I don’t want the kids to break it.

Well it might be fun to show everyone how to you learned to use a compass. It wasn’t that expensive, I said. We can always buy a new one if something happens.

She shook her head, bowing in reverence as if I just asked her to reveal her deepest secret.

All right, I said. But it’s there if you’d like to use it.

She opened her brain and said her thank you for all the things she can think of that day.* She worked her way from her family, to things in her room, to her toes, all the way to the Universe. She then closed her brain; locked it with a key; and we said good-night. As I left the room, I spun her globe twice for good luck. If you asked me to reveal one of my deepest secrets, I would tell you something like this: I don’t really care what it is she learns. What I care about is how she contemplates what she is learning, and what she does with the information and how it effects everything in that spinning world. Maybe you could say after all those degrees, and careers, and titles, and all that jazz…I’m growing up with two of the best teachers in town.

*Brain opening is a strange little ritual that evolved out of bubble releasing. It’s possibly too lengthly to completely reveal here, but it gets the child to sleep.

A new bridge opened a few months ago near my home, and I was giddy. Finally finished, it is a small bridge, but alleviates a lot of traffic for the busy autopista (highway). Then, one day I drove by and……wow! More landscaping! These huge royal palms are no piece of cake to plant. It’s not like plopping in a few daisies and tossing them some water. Trucks, person-power, and all that figuring of how to get them to not fall over on passing cars or down the ravine means only one thing: Someone’s back there thinking again! I love it.

The palms are natural beauty, will help fortify the dirt retaining wall, and add well….you know about the green house effect thing…..Turns out I’m little too excited about a bridge again. Yeah Costa Rica!

Kids have to put up with all we do to them: paints, art, glue, projects, classes, medicines, rules, and all our goofy baggage. At times I can see Addison just sit and consider it all. After carefully pushing each leaf onto the paper with one finger, he tolerated his mother sticking these cute pink glasses on him. I’m graced he puts up with me.

Bouganvillas bloom and grow so much, at times they’re a hazard. I can see why it’s hard to trim these gorgeous things. I had to duck to pass on this sidewalk. This bunch has been around awhile. It can be tricky getting this flower to establish. They need just enough sunshine, sun, and shade mix. Then, once bigger, the flowering bush seems to thrive on sunshine. More blooms pop up now, during the beginning of our rainy season. Then, they’ll burst another wonderful crop of colors come December. Though, they will flower most of they year, just a little slower. After trimming a few bushes over the years, I’ve gotten a few good scrapes from the thorns along the leaves. But it’s worth it. These colors never fail to impress.

This morning, sirens wailed around our neighborhood. Either there was a very large accident, a fire, or….or a marathon. We raced out in front of our complex and along came an ambulance, a motorcycle officer, and a blue van. In between were the two last people in the race, running a bit, and then walking. There bodies were floppy and tired. We watched them walk/run off down the marathon’s route, sirens blaring right in their ears.

Since I’ve taken up running, I’ve though about entering one of those marathons. With kids under three and four years of age, I am not sure how “us” mothers do anything not related to children. I got the kids ready for a morning of gyms classes. I planned on sneaking out for an hour and run through la sabana park while my kids bounced around in their classes. About five minutes into the run, little sprinkles of rain dotted the asphalt path. After fifteen minutes, I thought it would hold off until I was finished. I looped around the big eucalyptus trees and wanted to take a picture. They line up in a row, bare and tall. They were just so there and did it so effortlessly. No, I thought. I want to keep the pace up. I’ll take a photo on the loop back.

The little drops got bigger. My hat kept my glasses dry, for awhile. Soon, it was a down pour. My mother always said: You’re not going to melt; it’s just a little rain. And in Costa Rica, it is one of the best policies I’ve brought down from the States. I’ve got rain coats and umbrellas - and trust me - there are times the rain is cold and I need it. But running from car to house or store, I don’t mind getting wet.

My shoes began to squish with each step and little bits of grass and mud flicked up on my legs. The hat wasn’t keeping my glasses dry any more. A few soccer players huddled under shelter, a few stuck it out. I passed other runners as we all were determined to finish what we started. It’s too hard to try to carve out another chunk of my day to exercise. I had ten minutes to go.

I circled back to those trees. I laughed because I should have taken that photo earlier. I hopped in place and pulled out the camera and got a shot. The camera got pretty wet, and the fanny pack was soaked. On the way back to the car, I ran with a velocity that surprised myself. At this rate, I could actually be one of those runners in the marathon. As I sat in the car and peeled off my wet shoes, and shirt, and hat, and cleaned my glasses. The window shield fogged up. I was a little damp, but I was still in one piece, and present. Maybe this is how those trees feel?

After defrosting the windows, I drove to pick up the kids. The rain began to stop. It didn’t matter: I hadn’t melted; it was just a little rain after all.

In a western Suburb of San Jose, another organic market has sprouted up. Every Wednesday from 8 a.m. until 11 a.m. (mas or menus - it is Latin America after all!) this gorgeous food market is open at the Cruz Rojo. It was a beautiful sunny morning and the place was busy. I hope it stays that way. I filled my orange cart up with a bounty. The celery was taller than my son. The woman running the market says she’s been working with farmers for 14 years. They didn’t believe her when she asked them to plant some of these odd things like bok choy and red cabbage.

Who’s going to eat that? they said.

Just trust me she told them. They’ll eat it. And there I was sticking a bunch into bag. I’ll be back. And if we tell a few friends, they’ll keep planting and we’ll all be the ones growing stronger in the end.