Rainforest Pizza

If you are traveling in Costa Rica and have never been here before, you should be excited about the roasted chicken sign. The chicken will be tender and juicy and accompanied by black beans and rice and most likely some kind of coleslaw. It will be cheap and served to you by a small Costa Rican woman who has lived here all her life and speaks not a lick of English. Signs like this are a treasure to the traveler. They represent the chance to connect with the culture in an authentic way.

However...

If you have been living in third world countries for the last two years, and you have enjoyed enough chicken that it is coming out your ears, you will find your heart leaping at the appearance of a sign directing you to PIZZA out in the middle of the Costa Rican rainforest. The pizza may not have a thick crust and it may not be dripping with layers of mozzarella cheese, but that is OK because it is not chicken.  Of course you can get your pizza topped with chicken, OR...you can get it topped with chorizo sausage, pineapple, and palm hearts....mmm

Mr. Flutter-by

Flutter-by, why are you drying your wings in the morning? Is it because the night is damp and the weight of the dew has you down? I know how you feel Mr. Flutter-by. I too need to dry the water from my wings. Perhaps if I stand very still you can teach me how to catch the first rays of the morning. Perhaps if I remain very quiet I can catch the small whisper that reminds me that I, like you, will fly high again if I will only alight on a safe place and open my heart and let the sun in.

Cappuccino and Monkeys

 

This guy was part of a troop of Capuchin monkeys swinging down the mountain toward the beach. They used my roof and the trees around my house as part of their afternoon path.  Apparently, this guy needed a little cappuccino pick me up. The long trip down the mountain had him yawning.

I do love how the monkeys come nearly every day. Since I have been here I have seen three different types including these guys, the tiny titi monkeys, and beefy looking howler monkeys. It's one of those things where every time they appear in the trees, I run for my camera. I suppose one day I might get used to wild, rainforest animals. I guess it is inevitable that I will not have my heart jump when I see a two toed sloth carrying a baby, or a 5 foot long iguana racing across the lawn (one did today). But until that day, I am certain I will continue to  run for my camera, unable to imagine that that day could ever come.

Tiki Bar and Trust

Progress. We are making some serious progress on the Tiki Bar. Today I hired a chef to make Caribbean tapas for me and I talked with Imperial (local Costa Rica Beverage Company) to deliver THREE coolers. Yes that is three, big coolers full of, well... let's just say full.

Anyway, the point is that progress is being made and it looks as if the Tiki Bar will be up and running for a grande party next weekend. I can't wait. This is amazing to me. I am living in Costa Rica opening a restaurant right next to the most beautiful national park in the whole country (And that is according to Forbes Magazine. I didn't come up with that myself.)

Now I believe that progress means work, and work means effort, and effort means--when you have a dream, you don't just dream it. You keep dreaming it and allow it to morph into what it wants to be. And you can't allow that--you can't let down your guard and allow the dream to come--unless you take risks. And taking risks is not easy. Risks mean having to trust yourself, your environment, the people around you, and the universe in general. That is a lot of trusting. It leaves you feeling a little like you are free-falling, like the bottom may fall out. It leaves you fearing that some of that trust may be in vain, which opens up the great pit of "the possibility of failure." But if we spend all our time worrying about what might go wrong, we never seem to get to what might go right.

We are making progress here at the Tiki Bar, and I am learning to take risks, and, yes, I am learning to trust too.

A Broken Hallelujah

Never in my life have I seen the sun so enormous. It seems we are close enough to the equator here to effect the very size of the sun. We sat and had dinner at a restaurant high up on the mountain and while the Spanish band played Hallelujah on guitar and congas, the sun sank into the sea. This was one of those moments that are hard to describe. The words of the song speak of a humble and a broken Hallelujah and in the moment that the super-sized sun touch the horizon, tears streamed down my face as I realized that it is from of our brokenness and humble honesty that things of  life and value emerge. I think we all try to cover the sadness and disappointment we feel with focusing on the positives in life, but I find it is in admitting the reality of how we feel deep down inside and embracing it and allowing it to do its work in us that we are profoundly and forever changed.

Magic in the Palm Groves

One of my favorite things about driving down the long road to Manuel Antonio is the palm groves. Rows and rows of palm trees, their trunks laden with ferns I would have given my right arm for when I lived in south Carolina, create a magical green world along the narrow highway.

The trees bear bright red berries growing in huge bunches just where you think the coconuts might grow. The color, like cranberries at christmas time. But the best part is the old fashioned carts pulled by oxen and directed by real Costa Rican cowboys.