Wandering down the block to a nearby park to find a clean, unbroken play area is a rarity in Costa Rica. Well, we’ve found one, and I almost hate to let the cat out of the bag. But this is a secret much to big for those of us with kids in Costa Rica.

A new development arose behind CIMA hospital called Avendia Escazu. The new complex is just about finished and from what I can see there’s a new theater, high-end shopping, some places to eat, and at the moment an exhibit of the T-Rex called Sue.

But this park! Stop the presses! I mean after years of tossing aside broken glass and even painting a few play grounds myself, it’s a welcome site. It is offered by a company that builds them, so it serves as advertisement. It’s open from 10 a.m. until 6 p.m. (although we arrived at 10:30 a.m. and it still wasn’t open). Of all the shops and offices and new hotel to be offered, I hope this playground is the one thing that will stay for a long time.

Skating has become an option in Costa Rica. Busy streets, no bike paths, and rather reckless drivers make skating and biking a not-so-attractive option in most urban areas. For some reason, we now have several options - seems skating has become hot - que chiva. One is free, as I’ve written about before in la Sabana park, the other is a rather expensive choice in Multiplaza in Escazú.

At 3500 colones (about $7.00) for fifteen minutes, that makes for a pretty pricey activity. Yet when summer vacation hits, it helps to have something to break up the “I’m so bored” chanting that begins right after school lets out.

Coco’s hit the rink for her second try, and I was impressed. She got the hang of it pretty quickly and fell only 1/4 of the time instead of 3/4 of the time.

As I watched her turn flush as she skittered from side to side in search of that railing to hold on to. I couldn’t help but think how often we fall every day and how we have to pull ourselves up. But you know what? We generally do. We should give ourselves a pat on the back, but not for too long because the next fall is just one step away.

After an influx of funds, La Sabana park in San José got a splashy new look. Buildings are painted, paths are better marked, and the hardest to believe is the new roller blade rink.

The kids and I were able to push Addy’s bike on a smooth path (that’s new too) over to the rink to watch. In the middle, there’s a place to just putz around on skates - patines - and fall gracely, or not so gracefully, as one likes.

On the outer rim, there’s a track. Watching people zip around on it was like something from a movie. Parent’s were cheering on the side - and it was only practice.

Addy was ready to jump in, but we’re scheduling that exciting event for a few years down the road. And the one time Coco tried roller skating, I got some pretty serious bruises. I think they’ll both wait. But, we’ll be back to watch. That’s for sure.

Every end of June and/or beginning of July, the Central Valley experiences a short break from the rains. At first this year looked like it would be a wetter break than usual. Then, those good ol’ winds started blowing and the dust and dry air was swirling about.

And that’s also usually when the Internet goes out. Knock on wood, it’s been quite a while since I’ve had a day that’s lacked Internet service. A welcome surprise. So, I went to the mall, grabbed a quick coffee/mocha frozen thing and sat in front of the Apple store hoping to connect.

I found an outlet outside the store and unloaded my laptop, sipping away. When I looked up, it was then I realized how absolutely ridiculous I looked. People sauntered by and stared at me as if I was competing with the new Toyota on display.

I finished my drink, slurping every last wonderful, sugary bit, and reloaded my laptop into my orange cart. Yes, a bright orange cart. I walked by the jammed fast food court and tried not to gag on the overwhelming smell of fried, well, fried everything.

Then I passed a mirror. Oh my. This is what parenting does to us: We forget what we look like. I guess it was windier outside than I’d thought. But instead of fixing my hair, I just marched onward to the grocery store in search of niblets for a hungry guinea pig. At least she’s be happy to see me - no matter what I look like.

The annual pilgrimage to Cartago, I walk I took last year from San Jose to the city south of Cartago, has been canceled by the government. They’re afraid big groups are going to spread the flu. I went last year. It was one of the greatest things I’ve yet done in Costa Rica.

Many people are upset. It will be interesting to see if there are those that feel the need of their soul greater than the need to civil obedience. One report says if the estimated 2 million people walk (now what I’ve read is it is usually more like 500,000 to one million….anyway….) there will be 20,000 new cases of the swine flu. Really?

To date, Costa Rica has had seven confirmed deaths with the flu as the cause. All but one had some contact with travel to Mexico. Day after day, suspected cases are tossed out yet often make the news, adding to the fear factor. They’ve closed schools and now they’re talking about adding another week.

And are the people hiding in their homes? I am, but I’m home most of the time with a kid recovering from pneumonia. Everyone is at the mall, in the movie theaters, and hanging with groups of kids - exchanging snot and germs and bacterias; trying on stupid wigs they’d never buy.

The walk to Cartago is a religious tradition in Costa Rica. Even though I can’t go this year, I think it is a shame to tell others they can not. I didn’t touch or breath on a single person the whole time. I know that youth do tend to hang and make a party of it. But I tell you, if they don’t do it on the way to church, they’re hanging out at the mall.

I’ve got to think spending a day, offering up time, sacrificing for the healing of others might just be what this flu needs to kick it in the arse. Who said it? The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I’m praying, on my knees, that wisdom fills the place where fear grips us.

Poverty, AIDS, vehicular death, dengue fever….we can’t live behind closed doors. If we did, we’d probably all end up slipping on a bar of soap in the shower anyway.

We arrived at the hotel before Coco could count to 100. Living in a tourist town means there’s always a lot of hotels to choose from for a quick get away. Fancy huts, palm trees, and toucans? Or how about that Latin feel of bubbling fountains and crisp, baked ceramic tile to pave your way? Since I’d promised the kids a pool and sun, we chose one just down the road from our house.

By going to a hotel in San Jose, we cut anywhere from three to five hours out of our travel time. And many lovely beaches are even further away than that. But traveling with Addison takes life with a special kid from challenging to more than difficult than finding gold in the Pacific ocean. Nothing could go wrong. Or so I thought.

In the span of twenty four hours, we narrowly escaped death and managed to get almost an entire hotel upset at us.

First…the nanny tripped while holding Addison and fell into the jacuzzi. I caught only a flashing glimpse of the tail end of my nanny as she went head first into the bubbling waters. By some miracle, she managed to hold Addison up by the armpit like a towel one doesn’t want to get wet. I yelled out: The baby! and started to enter the pool. A man, not more than two feet away, finally rose from his seat to help after watching stone-faced as Addison dangled in the air. The man looked at me with out a smile or nod. Needless to say, he left within four minutes of the incident.

Second...at dinner, Addison ripped off the cute plastic tablecloth meant to protect the beautiful, off-white linen in the restaurant. He also managed to whip Coco’s animal place matt on the floor. I ordered him a bowl of ice cream, which took him an hour to eat and bought us all a few moments of peace so we could finish our meals. Four seconds from a tantrum because the ice cream was gone, the nanny whisked the kids off to walk the halls as I paid. I slipped into the bathroom and as I left, the poor wait staff was diswraught over the almost disatrous mess we left. (I did tip them well.)

Third…The next day we fought yet another food battle as Addison rejected his regular-old food; hated the eggs; whipped the eggs across the floor; threw his spoon in my face; and finally agreed to salmon as long as it had a dollop of honey on it with every bite. Coco managed to empty an entire jar of honey on her food and then after three bites declared she was full.

Fourth...I stopped back at the restaurant to sign for the bill, which I’d forgotten to do earlier. I could see the children frolicking in the pool. It looked almost normal. Notice I said almost.

Fifth…When I got to the pool, Coco screamed out: The stroller fell in the pool! Apparently a gust of wind had pushed the stroller right into the pool. Luckily Addison, nor my camera, or wallet, or cell phone, or book was in it! (which I almost always toss in the bottom basket of the stroller and for some reason this morning didn’t!).

Sixth...Upon getting into the pool - this time with great care - a couple sat across from us and whispered to each other in disgust about the snot in Addison’s nose. If they had rolled their eyes any harder, they would have stayed in the back of their heads. I mean I was cleaning him off with a towel! All the time! And I didn’t dunk him in the water! I mean come on! They got up and left. Plus, they added one more look of disgust just as they wrapped themselves up in their big, fluffy towels and padded off to their lounge chairs to sit this one out.

Seventh...A hotel employee came up to us a bit later to explain that diapers were not allowed in the pool. The nanny lifted Addison’s ass in the air to show her that yes, we had splurged on the Swimmer diapers that - hello! - every other parent in the world uses!

Eigth...As the nanny and I sat on a step in the pool, a wasp flew between her and Addison and stung her in the shoulder. It then stuck to Addison’s shirt and I was able to swish it off and send it down the pool drain. I pulled the stinger out from her skin, and we both agreed it was better that she took the sting than Addy (bless her).

Ninth...Believe it or not, as we checked out and Coco cried becuase she wanted to stay longer and Addison’s pants got all wet becuase the stroller wasn’t quite dry yet and I over tipped the bell boy because I didn’t have anything smaller……I had a marvelous time.

Want to ride bareback? Free like the wind? Gallop onward and upward? Costa Rica is the place to ride. Talented in horseback riding, I’m not. But I do know a great horse snout, a great experience, when I see one.

Establo San Rafael in Puriscal, Costa Rica offers my kind of riding. The stable has started to offer lessons in riding that include training and handling horses in more “natural” ways. One afternoon, I watched a pair of riders graduate from managing a horse while riding with a just a red rope around it’s neck to riding bareback - and under control and with grace - throughout the ring. I was amazed. My horseback riding skills date back to a swayback horse my aunt had on her home out of the city. Not only was there no chance of falling off because I sunk when I sat, but that old girl didn’t move faster than I could walk.

When Coco’s ready to graduate from play ponies to a bigger version of the real thing, the stable has smaller horses and workshops to help introduce kids to riding and handling horses. In addition to riding at the stable, the experienced handlers take riders out on gorgeous mountain trails that lead through the valley and even to the beach.

Meanwhile, I’m thrilled to watch and hang out with the geese and the goats and the pigs and the ducks on the farm the horses reside on. The stable also offers a home farm experience for families that need a break from the concrete jungle.

Establos San Rafael offers one of those hidden adventures in Costa Rica experience that thrives in creating a natural, fun, more peaceful way to live.

The El Museo de los Niños - children’s museum - in downtown San Jose sits down the lane and then atop a hill. The former military prison was turned in museum in 1988 because after the revolution in 1948 and disbandment of the army, there wasn’t a lot of need for military prisoners.Though it took awhile to pull it together, the museum is a well-used and dearly loved landmark in Costa Rica by children and adults alike.

It’s not hard to imagine the space once housing caged cells. Photos line the hall ways to show how it used to be compared to how it looks today as a center with an interactive science and learning museum for children. I’ve spent many afternoons learning about recycling and musical notes. You can even experience the rattle of a real earthquake in one room.

There are a few antiquated exhibits like the talking Franklin Chang - Costa Rica’s beloved international astronaut and a few doctors in the basement that my daughter refuses to go near. Other than that, it’s a great place to climb on helicopters and learn about the “olden days” of Costa Rica. You can even rent out a space for birthday parties here.

Because the prison was such an expansive place, there was room to put a theater and a large art gallery. I’ve been to several international art exhibits there and many-a-nights in the basement, preparing small ballerinas for their performance.

Besides passing the day inside, one can’t help but think there isn’t a princess or two stashed away somewhere in those towers. It’s a great tribute to Costa Rica that it managed to keep this old building in it’s life.

Come on kids! We’re going to the park!

My New Year’s day enthusiasm was met with middle-of-the-road compliance. But we loaded up the gear: stroller, drinks, blanket, ball, Addison’s change of clothes and other odds and ends to make our morning walk in the park a simple walk in the park. It was anything but.

Twenty minutes into the walk, Coco declared she was hungry. I was thrilled to hear this since she didn’t finish her well-balanced breakfast. Then, she protested the route we were taking, which was like saying six was better than 1/2 of the other.

A few years ago in Sabana park, the city replaced the rusty metal gym bars with wooden sets. Though a site for soar eyes, they are already broken and in need of repair. Addison can only attempt a few slides as the others are cracked and broken. The physics of the whole set is a tad off also. Climbing boards are a tad too high and slides are really steep. Any thought for small children was not even considered. Forget special needs kids. But we made do. We always do.

After Coco smacked her knee on a plank, we decided to move on. I cracked open a bottle of aqua de pipa for Addison. As we rounded the lake, he promptly threw it in the sludgy, green water and began to scream. I knelt on the edge of a bank praying I wouldn’t all in, waiting for the empty bottle to drift towards me. I reached over and grabbed it. We deposited it in an empty bread bag we fed the ducks.

On the way back around the lake, we all paused next to a dead duck. It looked like a statue. A big stick was right behind it. We hated to venture that the poor thing had been hit over the head during the night. I remember when I first came to the Sabana Lake. I was not going to feed the ducks! Feeding them only encourages them to loose their fear of humans. Loosing their fear of humans means they are at risk of getting hit over the head in the night by someone who’s perhaps tipped back a few. But today, with children begging me to feed them, I cave in. This is one issue I am truly torn on.

We finally circled back to the car where I had cleverly parked next to a man who would chop open a whole bunch of coconuts to garner sufficiente for Addison for the week. We waited by the old tree stump as he chopped away, pouring all the liquid into a plastic bucket I brought. The kids wandered over to watch our favorite squirrel feeding on coconuts.

Coco was bitter that her favorite, greasy potato chips were not available. She settled on candy, covered peanuts. As we loaded into the car, she spilled her entire coconut with the straw sticking out onto her lap. Addison cried because I lost my cool a bit. I looked down because my white capri pants were covered in dirt. And they were new.

At least traffic was almost non-existant because most people were either at the beach or still at home sleeping. As I tried to pull onto the pista, a bus pulled in alongside my car. He started chatting with the guy who chops the coconuts. I sat and sat and waited until I had to laugh. No one takes a walk in the park like we do. No one.

Shedding our cultural customs is like trying to leave behind a limb while it’s still attached. Firecrackers start going off in Costa Rica around Christmas time. I don’t get excited. Tell me about a well-basted turkey and pumpkin pie? Now we’re talking.

Since I don’t see the ads on television promoting the perfect holiday gathering, and my kids don’t make turkey crafts, the holiday wanes from my thoughts. And, I could probably skip the whole thing. Yet when a group of friends pool a few colones together to buy a turkey, I find myself mashing potatoes and looking forward to a holiday dinner.

Thanksgiving is a nice holiday since it’s about gratitude - one of my favorite subjects. And I like when kids get a chance to hang out while parents mill around and chat. That reminds of my home.

So, all over Costa Rica odds and ends of ex-pats try to duplicate a little bit of home by making stuffing and turkey and pumpkin pie. We’ve got to create a new network of aunts and uncles and cousins as we’re usually so far away from family.

And as our group sat around the table sharing the good things that happened over the year, it felt just like home. Plus, our turkey was probably the best I’d ever tasted! A welcome tradition!