On Saturday we walked back to the International Art Festival. The crowds were a little thinner than last weekend, but thick enough. Coco ate a few spoonfuls of rice just to satisfy her mother so that she could gulp down another bag of those greasy, sugar sticks.

The art, I gotta say with the utmost respect for my adopted place of residency, is well…well let’s just say it’s not cutting edge. But that’s o.k. my daughter thought it was out of this world: horses, huts, pueblos, forests, mostly acrylics, and most nice to look at. An art critic could waltz down the pathways, look into the tents and easily dismiss the work as pretty average. But for Costa Rica, this is still a big deal. I’ve been here for ten years and even getting to the arts has been a struggle. The first International Art Festival I went to was scattered all over the city. The public wasn’t allowed into some of the performances as they reserved them for school groups (I snuck in with my daughter anyway) and there was no gathering place, where the celebration all centered from like the last few years at la sabana.

Coco waited patiently for me to finish my espresso so she could get her hands on that bag of sugar and batter. On our way to the trailer of treats, we spotted these swings. Really cool swings. This was some cool stuff. Huge wooden swings hung from branches. Everyone was drawn to them. I marked this exhibition as the coolest art at the show.

We walked the isles of the craft tents as Coco pondered which trinket to buy. She was determined to spend a bit of the 5000 colones she had saved up. We had to stop for a bathroom break, (which I will spare you the torrid details of because we had to use one of those blue, temporary sanitary boxes that had not been cleaned, it seemed, ever).

She settled on a dinosaur and a squirrel.

They are going to best friends mommy, she said.

Makes sense, I said.

The woman who made the tiny creatures sat in the tent with her clay, paints, and pointy, little brushes - the artist at work. And no, she wouldn’t draw crowds in Soho or Paris, but she’s throwing her hat in the ring every day. To that I say: Bravo! Each time we create it gives us the potential to make something even grander than the day before. I bought a tiny little tiger for Addison, who was home with a cold, and cow for his nanny. When I took the clay figure out of the bag, Addison roared his tiger growl and put up his claws like he does when he sees a big cat. He ooohed at the cow and gently set it on the table next to the tiger. The cow’s head then fell off.

Makes sense, I thought as I got up to look for the glue.