Take a good look at this list. Jaleh Ruhe, one of my favorite free-lance writers in Costa Rica, gives a very individual spin to some of the pleasures others would not have thought of or found. Have you ever considered potholes as a plus? Or grandmas? How about Dober-bunnies?! Here are some of the most interesting and diverse to make the list yet.

Jale is pura Tica in one sense, yet brings an international perspective as she’s known it’s good to get out once and awhile (that includes the country!).

1.  Bus Rides - Everyone wants a car, that private, immediate means to get wherever at any time. That’s what most people sitting on a bus would agree on. That seething, silent agreement gives each bus ride an edgy sense of purpose to the poor and the average. It’s the only time I ever see Costa Ricans read. Everything in Costa Rica has been elaborated to please a foreign market. Passengers on buses work their asses off to make that elaborated reality possible.

2.  Simple and Satisfying - Beans are to rice what yin is to yang. Beans make you smart. Rice stretches the possibilities. In Costa Rica, when these two meet on dishes, they’re called “spotted cock” or “marriage.” Both sexy and responsible, this staple combination present in all school and worker lunches, comforts and sustains an entire country indiscriminately.

3.  Grandmas - They remember when everyone had too many siblings, when Jaco was remote and Limon segregated. They’ve talked the mustache down since they can remember and bask in defeating the bane of machinsmo, for the most part. They can scare you to death with the darkest stories of ghosts and devils born of madness and cruelty, just to hug you back to your senses when the story is over. Television still amazes them.

4.  Fat Fashion - Soft folds over the tops of tight jeans, broad backs squeeze into tiny tees, the more to love, the more to show, baby’s got back and front and everywhere in between. She’s hot and scandalous and can cut those skinny bitches. Bell-bottomed, hip-huggin, how-you-like-me-now, fashion fits fat here. It’s not always pretty, but it beats hiding in over-sized attire and crying over calories.

5.  Mutts - Tico-weilers, Dober-bunnies, Chihuahua-terriers, the proud runts who evolved despite their tarnished pedigrees, lurking in markets, humping next to churches, scrappy as scrappy does, barking at nothing, driving neighbors crazy, whimpering behind walls, owning the streets, scaring most average Ticos, chasing after my bike )do they really thing they can get their teeth into my peddling feet?), they all smelled like puppies once.

6.   Saprissa - I used to be a Liguista, red, black and proud. Then one day, on a bus of course, I figured I never go to Alajuela, I’m pretty fond of the color purple, I like the way goalkeeper Jose Francisco Porra’s eyes seem to always be crossed, and San Jose collects my garbage. I”d committed the ultimate act of football treason when I switched. It felt liberating, almost like playing the game myself.

7.  Potholes -  My car hates them. They send a shudder up my spine and a curse to my breath every time I hit them, but they remind me to slow down, lighten up, take it easy. When tough-guy asphalt made of tar and gravel succumbs to the gentle patter of raindrops, opens it’s pores, creases and collapses, it’s a leisurely, consistent and encouraging proof that nature can and will beat mankind’s control-freak ass every time.

8.  Topes - Before Costa Rica became a haven for outsourcing and tourists, it was one big farm country. Rich soils from active volcanoes had to be tilled and seeded and the terrain has never been flat or easy. Horses and men, not soldiers and guns, will keep this country from ever becoming another American enclave. TLC or not, when the real Costa Ricans converge on capital cities riding dancing horses and drinking their fill, I feel safe.

9.  NIcaraguans - Guanacaste was NIcaragua. Some say up to 40% of all Costa Ricas are Paisa. The don’t “take” Costa Rican jobs, they accept the hard work and low pay that nobody else wants . But they’re defeatists, ashamed of their history and too scared to challenge their national “immigrant” status. Like Costa Ricans, they need to quit blaming their government and start building on private enterprise.

10.  Castros - 600 mts. north of the Coca-Cola bus terminal, Castros nightclub gets going around midnight. Costa  Rica’s premier dance experience, Castros is both popular and elegant, the way salsa should be. Club goers swing to cumbias, slide to disco and shimmy to meringue. Nobody’s left out. Expert dancers guide the shyest and the stiffest to the jam-packed dance floor and make them feel like Fred and Ginger. Trainers and casual wear are not allowed.

I had this nice little piece I was going to post this morning about finding style in Costa Rica. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about this “comment” I received yesterday on a site called The Real Costa Rica. I’m not controversial, at least I didn’t think so. Until someone took issue with my “complaining” about the prolific use of plastic bags here. He was referring to a post I wrote about how I’m trying to use less plastic bags in Costa Rica.

He said he owns a home here, part-time, and then went on to say……” I love Costa Rica and if you (that’s me he’s talking about...) carry plastics bags back and forth in buses and public transportation and complain about it, then you are probably not the kind of American who should have moved to Costa Rica.”

I wondered if he actually read what I had written because in the next line I wrote how plastic bags were helpful, especially on buses and in the rainy season…..

“Then, I moved to Costa Rica. A plastic bag free-for-all. There’s no question these bags with handles are handy, and since it does rain in Costa Rica, paper bags aren’t always a good solution especially when one has to take the bus or walk home. But the other day when I came home, my AAA batteries (which are encased in plastic to begin with) were inside a plastic bag inside another plastic bag…….”

Basically he continued on and on how I should just ship out. He stopped short of calling me an “idiot” or a “gum-chewing-hussy” or you know - THAT word. But the the tone was clear: because I was such an ingrate, I didn’t deserve to live in the country where he lives a few months out of the year, and he so dearly loves. Although I never met this fellow, I could see him shaking his finger at me. He finished up with this:

“SO, stop complaining and if you dislike it there, then come back to the USA, we most certainly could use another complainer!!“

Well, I’m chewing on my napkin instead of giving power to all the negative - and quite clever - things I could say. Guess maybe he didn’t read a few more of my posts like the grateful column, or how I adore the organic food in Costa Rica, or how this great community of people rallies around my son and his special needs. Details I suppose. I would teach my children to use conscious consumption no matter where we lived. I happen to believe small acts, such as one or two less plastic bags, actually makes a difference in the world. Not only because maybe one less fish will tangle up in the handle of the plastic bag that happened to miss the garbage can, but also because these acts bring on an awareness. Our thinking changes from “Hey what’s in it for me” to “How am I affecting my family, my community, and my world with the decisions I make?” No we can’t analyze every decision all day long or we’d go mad. But with a little practice, it gets quite easy. Are my tires the correct air pressure so I am more fuel efficient? Could I eat more fruits and vegetables produced locally and thereby reduce fuel consumption? Could I walk instead of drive? Could I be kind instead of crabby?

What kind of American should move to Costa Rica? I’m the kind of American that lives in Costa Rica and will continue to examine lifestyle choices that lower have the potential to raise our planet’s health and consciousness or chip away at it’s delicate balance. When I accept the status quo, then you’ll see me moving back to the States to chum up with the group of complainers he asked me to join. Until then, I’ll continue to write about the things I adore about Costa Rica and the challenges we face as a developing country and the little things that can make a big difference. If my views get someone’s underwear in a bundle - welcome! Step right up. Though the line is long, you’ll be in good company.

*If you want to see his whole response, go to Tim’s site at The Real Costa Rica Blog. This is a great site with a lot of helpful information.

It’s kind of a sad commentary on our society that whenever a woman stands up for herself, she is called a bitch.

I am really sorry for this forray into the vulgar, but what I am about to say is a sad but true fact.

When woman gets a little tough in the office place and rubs a few elbows the wrong way………you guessed it…..the B word flies.

When a woman fights says a little too much in a book, or writes an article with a bit a vim, wit, and vigor…..for those who don’t agree….it’s the B word again.

…..go against the grain of the "mainstream", perhaps she asks for the same rights as her breatheren (the right to vote comes to mind)……the B word ( or it’s equavilent in the 20’s!)

I have not been spared. I meet against this little twittle of a word on occassion for something I do that isn’t to a part of society’s liking.

But that’s the great thing with age and wisdom (when we tap into it), it let’s me shake it off and move on with my day content in the fact that if I had to do it all over again, I’d be proud to carry the Big B on my back and do it even better the next time.

Now that’s a Bitch!