In every town, in every land there is a man who waits. His turn is yet to come. With a trusty paper at his side, he shall be the next in line to get a trim. A little off the top if you please.

And it’s a pleasure to wait, I can tell. For he gets a few minutes to shake off the rain; elude the boss; put off that extra errand needed to be run before the day’s end. The small, corner barber shop - a treasure of every country small and wide.

Preparing my son to leave for school is an act in precision and cooperation. And generally, it goes surprisingly well. When the mini-bus toots its horn, we’re usually just a walk away from loading up. But with a five year old, there are exceptions.

When the bus arrived today, it was fifteen minutes early. I figured I could put Addison’s shoes and socks, clothes on and brush his teeth in two. Coco ran up and down the steps trying to help. When I approached the child with the aforementioned items, he was sitting in a pile of, well you know, unpleasant smelly poo. Smeary stuff too.

So that is exactly why I put the butterfly picture here. Butterflies really come out in August in the Central Valley of Costa Rica.  I’m amazed at how they find flowers among the muck and goo. When I put Addison on the bus, he was barefoot and screaming with delight at the wildness of the morning. I handed the assistant the shoes and socks and asked if she could help.

The door slammed shut and my butterflies flew off in their mini-bus, pretty clear of the muck but definitely full of color.

We’re soaked. The rain has decided to take it’s job seriously this year in the Central Valley of Costa Rica. Our glimpses of sunny mornings have shortened and sometimes disappear all together. We’ve become intimate with our umbrellas, a stash waiting to be called at the doorstep.

There are a few moments in between. Those moments when we can escape the chilly rain and run free. The umbrella becomes a toy for a moment, a part of a song.

Then, the rain will start again, and the boy will look for his umbrella once again.

I followed this man with avocadoees on his head for a quite a while. I couldn’t help but notice that his sweat and his deep breaths to keep up his step added a sense of beauty that took me by surprise.

There are parts of San José, that if broken down ascetically, are what a critic could call unsightly or down right ugly. Yet in each snapshot of life, there is something beautiful to behold.His efforts could make the harshest of critics take note.

Plus, five avodaoes - and they were a pretty good size - for 1000 colones (about $2.00) was a very good price.

The warmth of the Costa Rican people is one of the pluses for raising young children here. My son seems to have that “extra” charm with not just the ladies, but with people from all walks of life. Where we go, he wants to either give someone a high five or a great big hug.

When I’ve traveled, my son is no different, he wants to do the exact same thing. He doesn’t differentiate between class, background, education, or looks. He just loves everyone. In Costa Rica, the response is a quick smile along with a lot of high-pitched (yes, sometimes even the men) terms like how cute; adorable; and what a love! For those who’ve grown up in a more “rigid” culture, it’s not easy to get cuddly right off the bat with kids. Yet, with Addison’s charm, he’s even gotten the shiest of peope to crack a smile and look up long enough from their important “texting” to give a high five.

I think in some ways he’s on a mission to make the world, no matter where it may be, a warm and welcome place.

There is no need to understand Spanish to see the intention behind this plan. In order to help the crowded, high, “carbon-footprint” of fast food places, they are adding trash bins to separate organic materials from inorganic materials. To lesson the impact all that disposable plastic has on the environment, we might want to all not eat at these places, but we live in this century, not the last. Occasionally it’s bound to happen.

I am terribly glad they waste basket developers put pictures along with the written text on the trash bins. The question is: Who’s going to take the time to slide off the greasy chicken and put it one trash can and the plastic it came on in another. This calls for a video follow up at a later date. My dear Costa Rican’s don’t even like to bring their trays to the trash cans to begin with because there’s always a muchacho to do that.

At least, we’re trying. At least.

Every August 2nd, the faithful in Costa Rica walk a pilgrimage. Tradition states to open the door and start walking and do not stop until you get to the Cartago. Several years ago, I took this journey. I was so impressed at the devoted, diligent, helpful stream of people, all of us on a journey with the same goal: To give thanks.

To read more of the journey I took, it is chronicled in three sections: The preparation called, A Walk to Cartago. The journey, called A Walk to Cartago, The Heart of the Matter a journal of the almost six hour journey with photos and dramatic (well, at least to me) ending. I made a video of the trip called: To Move the Faith. The video is a bit grainy though still brings on tears when I watch it.

Last year, the walk was closed down to the flu virus. I have a feeling this year will be a big crowd. Good luck for those heading out. May you have a dry day; a good pair of shoes; a second pair of shoes; a refill of water; a good hat; and the stamina to make it through.

Waiting for the bus? Go ahead, pull out that eyebrow tweezers. Got some down time at work? Good opportunity to pluck a few gray hairs. Curious customs, but completely acceptable in Costa Rica.

At first, when I spotted a person here or there thinning out their eyebrows as they at behind the counter at work, I thought perhaps it was an isolated incident or two. But that became three or four. No more, it’s nothing out of the norm.

It is one subject that I will have to leave to the imagination as getting a photo has been a bit awkward. As I passed the taxi driver relieving himself on the side of the road (another accepted private practice to do in public, for men only of course,) I figured I might get hurt shooting that shot. Instead, I slightly turned my head to the to give him his due privacy out there in the broad daylight with a bit of weeds at his side.

We start to dance. On the “streets” I often hear derogatory remarks about Nicaraguans. The comments mimick those in other countries concerning immigrants such as competition for health care, jobs, education, and housing.

It is a subtle prejudice with acts of hatred rarely following in Costa Rica. But as mentioned in the film, The Coffee Dance, who wants to pick the coffee? Immigrants have always filled in the “lesser” jobs. It is always heartening to see places where those bridges are crossed and cultures come together.

Addison and I were lucky enough to stop and watch a local art fair. These dancers were from Nicaragua, showing off their traditional dance. Addison, and all kids, could care less where the people come from. When ever dance to starts, the music smooths the gaps and resonates from that one, original source, which we are all a part of.

Coco brings me a drawing every day. She folds it, usually backward, and puts: To MAMA on one line, and then LOVE COCO underneath.

Where ever I am, I have to unfold it and study it. There is usually long story behind the photo. She’s been working on the idea of perspective in drawing: What’s close is bigger; what’s farther away is smaller. I’ve taught her this joke that was on Kid’s in the Hall. (Great show if you’ve never seen it. Hopefully Internet world could make these shows live again.) I digress…..

On the show, Mr. Tyzik (Dave Foley) would “crush” people with his finger. If he’d get mad or frustrated with someone, or even for a little harmless fun, he’d eye someone far away and “pinch” him between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m crushing you!” he’d say, with a long rolling “rrrrrr” sound.

So Coco and I drive around crushing things - without the mean intent; we’d be in it to gain a little perspective - the closer the object, the bigger the pinch. The sun, oh so far away, we can usually crush with a quick pinch. She’s gotten down the “rrrrrrr” part too. Since she’s bilingual, she can roll a mean “rrrrrrrr.” A building in the distance takes a bigger pinch, and so on.

The latest picture was of a bird flying home to the babies in the nest. The mother was close to us as was the rose bush with one blooming rose. The babies were far away, but not such a distance that we could crush them. Their little eyes peeked out of a hole in the tree, waiting for their MAMA. And, she always comes home to the nest. From Coco’s perspective, this is the absolute truth. I guess as close as I loom in her large in her psyche, I present a bigger perspective, perhaps, than I really am. As she grows away, to be her own, she’ll look back, from a distance and hold me right between her finger and thumb.

Note: This story first went on-line in 2007.
We still enjoy a good round of crushing here
and there, especially on long rides in the car.