I was one of those people terrified by Jaws. In fact, it made me even a little nervous to swim in lakes! But last Saturday, as I sat flipping channels I came upon this documentary about sharks. When Costa Rica appeared in the film, I was enraged and saddened and felt so much shame for this beautiful land. At some point, we humans have got to realize doing “business” doesn’t mean we get to do whatever we want. When the sharks go, we’ll choke on our own juices.

Cocos Island is an island off the Pacific coast of Costa Rica. It’s a national park that perhaps has one of the biggest populations of sharks per cubic yard than anywhere else on the planet. A place that’s so threatened, sharks are dying by the thousands. And pretty soon, we won’t be able to breath. How are they dying? They are being slaughtered for a bowl of soup. Shark fin soup. A delicacy in China and Asia, the fins are eventually sold for hundreds of dollars per pound as the rest of the bodies are thrown back into the ocean.

I’m sad to say Costa Rica’s record is hideous on this issue. Evidence, including physical and film footage show our peaceful, eco-tourist land as instead a place where those who wish do as they will; kill as they please.

Sharks are the largest predator in the sea for a reason: they control the water ways and keep balance. We can not pluck what we wish for a tasteless bowl of soup. And this may sound far and distant, but there is something you can do.

• Never buy a bowl of shark fin soup. When you are traveling in Costa Rica, you may see this on the menu. Refuse, tell the owner why. We’ve got to start educating.
• Never buy any shark products: shark cartilage has not been proven in any way to benefit health. Plus, we’ve so poisoned our waters that the cartilage carries a very high amount of mercury.
• Never buy any other product made from sharks like shark tooth necklaces. The species is now so much danger, we can not afford to support anything that condones the killing.
• Get educated. Even a little helps. There’s Sharkwater and videos on-line and other documentaries to get us all educated on the importance of these creatures in our lives.

Yet at the end of the film as I sat in tears and watched the slaughter and I was about to give up hope, I saw the people of Costa Rica. The people of Costa Rica went to the streets and said no more!

That doesn’t mean it’s far from over. Shark finning is BIG money second only to drug money. But change always starts with the individual. Our consumer choices do make a difference. Our willingness to say NO, even just once to the injustices will have a ripple effect. For you never know when the scales will tip. Our choice is on which side to stand. I may never dive or even see a shark, but I’ve learned to swim with the sharks, for you know, they really are the air we breath.

Horses are everywhere in Costa Rica. It is not unusual to live in the city or a suburb and hear the clip clop of hooves trotting down the sidewalk. Squeezed out further and further into the country, the beasts and their owners, learn to adopt like all the other animals must do. Serious riders will exercise horses on the side of a road in a circle because there’s few safe trails to wander.

This horse belonged to a police officer in la Sabana park. She was taking a break and chowing down on a row of hibiscus plants. I remember when I lived in the States I had a hibiscus. Oh how I labored to get just one bloom. Finally after a year and one-half of catering to the plant - moving into the sun and watering it and shooing the cat away when she wanted to use it as a litter box - I finally did get a beautiful peach blossom. Now, these bushy matas grow like weeds. There’s even enough to feed a hungry horse.

So I ask this guy with the fish if I can take his picture. After a long day of no Internet service, I found all these “other” things to do.

I went for a run - that’s how I found the guy with the fish; got dangerously close to finishing a deadline (yikes! looming success!); put away my laundry that I transfer every night from a chair near my bed to the bed back to the chair again; and grabbed some things I needed at the market.

It’s not that I don’t get a lot done with Internet working. I do. In fact, I can’t run this little website without it. But it gives me a chance to reflect on just how many times do I “refresh” my email to see who’s written me.

I wouldn’t eat this fish if you paid me since it came from the lake in la Sabana park. The lake is green. If it’s not contaminated, then it just looks unappetizing. I grew up near a lake similar to la Sabana. It was in the city and was man-made. It was also green. I remember thinking the same thing when I saw people fishing on the shore. Are they actually going to eat those fish?

But this guy doesn’t read on health websites about the dangers of fungus or mercury in fish. Perhaps he needs to feed his kids. Or perhaps he just needed a break from the whatever it is that stresses him.

Well I’ve got to run. You know, it’s been awhile since I’ve checked my emails.

This squirrel and I have a lot in common. No, I don’t have a cute little furry tail, but I do love coconuts (as I’ve mentioned a few times before.) And when people ask me why I live in Costa Rica, fresh coconuts - for about 40 cents a nut - rank high on the pro side of my list.

When I traveled in the States, finding a green coconut was a challenge. Actually, I never did. I did find a older, brown seed and when the natural food co-op guy told me the price - $5.00!! - I passed. Besides I might have lost a digit trying to open it. I did find the sweet coconut juice boxed in the same store, at about the same wild price.

The other day, I opened a coconut with two swings of my butcher knife (I’m still skittish around machetes). Quite proud of myself I was. This squirrel is no dummy. She gets them pre-chopped by the guy who sells the pipa water at the soda next to her. People stop to admire the little rodent - almost like seeing an animal in the wild here - and the vendor might get a sale or two. The squirrel no dummy.? I can relate to the squirrel and her joy. She’d scoop her little paw into the meat and get a sweet, white piece and nibble away.

Sometimes in my kitchen when I’m all alone, I sit there almost in an unconscious daze scooping little bits of coconut out of the shell. I think if someone took a photo, the resemblance to my squirrel friend here would be so obvious it might be scary.

Some people think of squirrels as a nuisance. I saw a story the other day where grey squirrels faced a “massive cull” in England as the brutish grey squirrel was overpowering the native red squirrel population. Long time ago, someone brought a few grey squirrels (well, at least two) over to England, and now they’ve taken to it. Now they are being killed for just being themselves. On the other hand, the red squirrels is doomed without help. Even in the land of squirrels, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I thought it would be a good idea to take the kids to the zoo. Zoo Ave. is a zoo and ecological reserve located in La Garita, Costa Rica about 30-40 minutes from San Jose, give or take traffic. I’ve taken my mother, father, and sister here. It’s a great way to walk through the fresh air and get a close up look at a lot of species that are otherwise difficult to see in the jungles.

The kids were thrilled to be in the car, and we arrived full of hope and promise like Hansel and Gretel stumbling upon the candy house. After paying the entrance, I would have thought I was walking through this lovely zoo with a witch and a warlock.

The macaws greeted us on the first trail. The Zoo raises funds to help educate the public and also offers services to rehabilitate wounded and discarded wild animals that at one time someone thought would make a good pet. The moment we left the parrots, the trip went down hill.

Coco, who’s danced in this zoo like Dorothy on her way to Oz, suddenly at the age of seven decided she was scared of 3/4 of the animals. That doesn’t leave much room for fun. When we approached the crocodile snoozing in the sun, she cowered behind me and refused to look.

The nanny, Addy, and I decided to enjoy the view and stared at the thing. It looked artificial. Finally, we saw the nose holes move in and out and we moved on to the deer. Addison wasn’t impressed. We moved on.

After the titi monkeys - an endangered monkey in Costa Rica - Addison had a melt down. Coco perked up a bit at the monkey exhibit. And then we approached the ostrich display, she wandered around with a stick and poked at the fence. If I hadn’t pointed out the avestruz, she’d have missed them.

And I'm here because???

I wondered that until we hit the end of the zoo. They've added a cute little soda. With an espresso machine! Perhaps it was a long way to come for a coffee, but what better company than a peacock to share a morning with. No matter what my kids think.

Walking in the la Sabana, we came across this little corner of animals. All were up for adoption. I might as well have stepped into a gummie bear-chocolate-all-you-can-eat shop. Though Coco did pretty well, her face stopped looking joyous because I’d just bought her a beach ball. She wants a pet like I don’t want a pet. One more species to care for would put me over the edge. I’m trying not to be cold-hearted and look forward to the day the last guinea pig dies.

The faces are tough to look at, no matter if you want to take one home or not. This group was called amigos de los animales.* What work they have cut out for them. I suspect the treatment of animals is a symptom as to how we treat each other. Unfortunately because they speak a different language (that perhaps we choose to not understand) they become dumping grounds for all our human frustrations.

I remember when I was covering a conference in the Netherlands for a radio station, somehow the topic of stray animals came up. I asked someone what they did with their stray animals in the country. What programs did they have?

His reply: What strays?

This particular mutt had the eyes that at times in my life I would not have been able to resist. I mean look at that face. The other day, I was out running while Coco danced away in ballet, and I came across this partially crippled husky-like white dog. He was obviously dehydrated and in a bad way. Why me? Why place this dog in front of me, the sucker that wants to cure the whole world of everything? I told myself it was I had to let him go and couldn’t save the whole world, at least before ballet was over. He and I went in different directions.

Ten minutes later, there he was again. Again! Geez how can I resist twice? Now I was feeling helpless and horrible all at once. The dog split off to another block and stood next to a park, his tongue was too pink and all floppy like a filleted fish hanging from the side of a bucket.

I said to myself: Self, do you at least have something the dog could get water from if you run into him again? Save the world, no. A tiny speck of effort, O.k. I could do this. I filled a bottle with water and when I finished running, returned to the dog. He was still there but had moved to staring at the front door of a home.  I poured water into an discarded ice cream cup by the curb. Then I realized: Self, this is where the dog lives!

I hesitated ringing the door bell. What if it wasn’t the right house. But the dog kept looking at it as if he knew exactly where he was. This is when I get a little nervous about my Spanish also. I get mixed up when it comes to terms like dehydration, homeless stray, and why is the dog so crippled anyway?

I took a deep breath and buzzed the bell. A muffled voice came over the speaker. I asked them if perhaps they had a big white dog. There was a hmmmph and crackling on the other end. A minute later, a man opened the door, and the dog bolted inside. He was at the right home. The man said thank you and shut the door. I stood there for a second and then picked up the dish of water in the old ice cream cup.

I hope each one of these mutts up for adoption has a success story, someone that will help them snuggle in at night and flip them the bits of sausage left on the plate. Coco asked if when we do adopt a dog, she can pick it out. I said, sure. Why not?

*(phone 506-267-6011 email: consci@racsa.co.cr)

What park with a lake would be a park with a lake without ducks? We just happen to have funny ducks with red, bumpy, rubber-like things on their heads. These happen to reside in la Sabana in San Jose. It was a beautiful, crisp morning so I challenged our group to get ready: Fifteen minutes we leave! Off to see the ducks!

Since it’s only an eight minute drive from my house, we arrived with plenty of room to park. A man with a few missing teeth, wearing an orange vest, held up a stick to signal to me that he’d watch my car for us. Coco delighted in throwing the funny ducks bread, and Addison just tried to eat it.

We wove around the path and tossed each pack of ducks we passed a few tidbits. We sat down for a break on a log and a woman selling fresh fruit cracked us open some agua de pipas and Coco devoured a bag of chips. Ten minutes later, Addison was crying; Coco’s feet hurt; and we were running out of bread.

Usually I like to research just about everything I see. I don’t want to know anything more about these ducks. They’re perfect - whatever they are - and they’re troupers because the water they live in is green, some of them have wings with no feathers, and people pick and pester them all day long. Yet season after season, another crop of chicks swim about in the murky waters.

Coco shared her last piece of bread with a little girl who’s father was “texting” on shore. The child tossed the whole slab of bread in. The father didn’t look up. We packed up and went on our way. The kids waved goodbye to the ducks and the girl. As I pulled the car back into traffic, I tipped the man with the stick as much change as I could find. He waved his gapped smile and wished me a blessed day.

Amen.

The birthday party was wild. Sure we had fun, but one of the guests of honor was wild - a real wild animal. This coati mundi was rescued, nurtured back to health and now lives in the woods yet sticks close to family that saved it. What coati mundi - pizote - shouldn’t get a few gifts for his one-year adoption day?

Coatis are related to the raccoons. It’s easy to see the resemblance in the movements and appetite. This fellow was especially fond of sugar. If you are traveling and stay in a beach house or rental cabin with an open-air kitchen, these critters will walk right in and take what they can get. Some like salty; some like sweet. If you don’t lock it up, and this omnivore can smell it and climb to it, consider it there’s.

So it’s not recommended to feed these animals. They can become a little too aggressive over time if they know people give them food. This farm has in-depth experience with animals and is helping to reintroduce the animal back into an environment where it will thrive. Unfortunately, the trauma many of these animals go through such as loss of their mother or abuse (because someone thought it was a cute pet), disrupts the natural instincts of the animals and they will only be able to return to the wild in a part-time manner.

Coco got a good scratch on her arm when the Coati wandered over to see if she was holding out with more sugar. I told her no matter how “cute” and tame the animal looks, it still is a wild animal and petting them can be a tough exercise if not handled by an experience person.

Some day, if the right female comes along, this guy may wander off in the woods and never come back. If so he’ll probably be ready to live it up in the wild. Until then, more sugar anyone?

Addison can have a bad night sleeping with a snap of the fingers. For a few hours, there was no sound coming from his side of the bed. Then he started swallowing non-stop as if someone had turned on a little faucet behind his nose. I could tell it was uncomfortable for him. Every hour until two in the morning, he’d wake up crying or just give an out-right scream.

In the midst of feeling tired and not wanting to be a mother - or anything - and answer questions and make lunch, I saw this waterfall while I was out this morning. The sound never stopped and reminded me of the needs of my kids and how I am pulled over the rocks hour after hour. But down below the beating water, there is a calmer pool of water. I imagined diving in and letting the cascade hit on my back and the top of my head.

My attempt at an hour nap got me five minutes. Addison slept with me and just as I was dozing into that deep sleep that makes your eyes fly back in forth in REM heaven, he coughed. Water may be a strong force, but it’s got nothing on kids.

This little piggie wanted nothing to do with being a pig. After arousing from slumber, Lila started trying to nurse off the puppies. I’m not a whiz at anatomy, but I’m pretty sure no milk was going to come out of the tiny male. I know Weimaraner pups are irresistible, what with those blue eyes and all, but I think the piggie was overstepping her bounds a bit.

Coco tapped on the pig’s sticky black skin, and the porcine grunted in disapproval. After a minute or two, she was right back at it. Though the puppy didn’t mind, I was a bit concerned that the delicate belly skin of the pup could me punctured. Coco tapped on Lila a second time. The pig protested again, as I suppose anyone would. We both looked down, and the pig has scuttled over to a niblet of bread on the floor and was chomping away while making this deep, rutting noise.

Dear Lila, I thought. I can relate. There are days I, in fact many times, I know just how this petite porcine feels. Each of us, puppies included, were born in these skins. The piggie has tough and kind of sticky skin; the puppies are fuzzy and warm; and I’m - well - I’m white, pasty, and walking erect. Why me? Why me here in Costa Rica - a single parent with a special needs kid? Why a woman? Why can I drive a car? Open jars of mayonnaise? Or play solitaire on the computer?

Like the pig, I often find myself a misfit in groups. My attempts to nuzzle up to most worlds out there has left me hurt, and outcast, disliked, and even hated when all I was trying to do was be nice and have people like me! The human instinct to connect with others runs much deeper than I think any of us want to admit. The problem is, we keep looking to the wrong “kind” to get that warm snuggly feeling from. Drugs, affairs, bad business deals, taxing friendships, chocolate donuts….Aren’t we all doing these things just so we can cuddle up and get that warm fuzzy feeling again?

Who likes saying no? Took me decades to figure that one out. One of the tricks to being a soul inside a human skin is rising above that primal need of snuggling with just anyone or anything - mindfulness. It’s a lot harder than it looks. I know.

Lila scuttled over to a niblet of bread on the floor and was chomping away while making this deep, rutting noise.

Coco can you put the pig outside?

No mom, she said swinging her head back and forth to clearly emphasize the no. I bent down and picked up the little beast and a sound came out of here that I could only repeat if I was an 80 year old man with 70 years of flem built up in my throat from smoking non-filtered Camels and drinking too many martinis. As I walked toward the door, the belching/screeching sound increased and volume. I laughed so hard, I barely managed to open the door. Coco was rolling her eyes and holding her stomach and giggling so hard, she couldn’t breath.

Just as we were about to leave, Lila trotted around the corner. She knew exactly where to find those puppies.