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Urban Eclectic Jewelry

Handmade Jewelry For The Bohemian Soul

Got Gas?

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Gas stations.
Add this to the ever growing list of things that I’ve always taken for granted.  Not even taken for granted really – just never thought about.  I’ve always lived someplace where there is a gas station literally on every corner.  Getting gas is something you do “on the way” to wherever it is you may be going.
Here however, I live about 10 miles away from the nearest full service gas station.*  The next closest one is about another 10 miles from that one.  Most people, including us, don’t make it to the actual gas station all that often because the majority of people’s driving is local in and around town errands and business.  So, we keep our cars chugging along thanks to a few locals who set up their own gas vending locals.
Meet my “local” gas station.

It’s not fair to even call this a gas station, because it’s an old wooden shed, filled with gallons and gallons of gasoline in someone’s yard.

 

You pull up, honk and someone from a nearby house comes out, retrieves the requested number of gallons ($6/gallon) from the shed, and dispenses.  And that’s how it works.
By the way, the spray painting on the shed reads “We don’t lend gallons, we sell them”.  I think that’s a good policy for a gas vendor.  Don’t you?
*A lil’ side note about “full service” stations, they are a bit nostalgic in that there are pump attendants who pump the gas and clean your windows.  They’d probably check your oil too if you asked.

Marshmallow People

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I went to a small place in town known for strong, creative cocktails, a mini putting ground and playing chess.  I wanted to try what was rumored to be a super tasty fresh raspberry mojito.  So, after a long ((strettcchh)) day, we headed over there.  Yum.
Upon arrival, the hubby was immediately sucked into a chess game and clearly was not going to be my source of stimulating conversation over cocktails.  I noticed a little boy sitting in a bar stool across the way animatedly chatting with himself.  He was busy constructing something, and being an arts-n-crafts kinda’ gal, I went over to investigate.
The bar in front of him was strewn with tidbits of cut up straw, tape, ripped napkin and large, pastel colored marshmallows.  In his hand was a marshmallow stick man in a napkin skirt and straw legs and arms.  When I asked if I could make one, he quickly introduced me to the materials I’d be needing to construct my own marshmallow stick figure.  I decided his marshmallow man seemed lonely and needed a lovely marshmallow girlfriend to share lives pleasures.  Pink marshmallow in hand, I started to build.

After it was all finished and we discussed a bit what might be missing – we decided that they both needed to look happier, and created a sliver smile for each using small tidbits of straw.

His marshmallow man must have been pleased with my marshmallow lady because his smile was bigger than hers.

 

He played with the marshmallow couple for a few moments, the lady fluttering in ballerina moves, singing the songs of angels.
Everything was going well until the marshmallow man’s eyes started falling off and at that point the little boy decided that it was time to eat him.  Oh well.
I was done with my drink, which, by the way was soooooooo tasty.   Such the gentleman was this little boy that he asked the bartender to please pass him the bottle of rum so he could fill up my glass and I wouldn’t need to leave soon that way.  😉

pastries/kitty litter

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Door to door sales are a common thing here.  Vendors stream through all day selling everything from lollypops to wall mirrors.  Food prepared in someone’s private home is a big thing, especially empanadas.  If this is a foreign concept to you (buying food on the street from a stranger?!?!), let me assure you, you get used to the idea quickly and learn who has tasty (i.e., safe) homemade goodies.
On this particular day, someone unfamiliar came around selling sweet empanandas.  I couldn’t help snap this photo of her.  I’m all for recycling plastic products, but if you’re going to be carrying around a bucket full of food for sale, it might be a good idea to remove the “FRESH STEP KITTY LITTER” label from the bucket, prior to filling it with your little oven baked goodies.  From a marketing perspective, I think it’s a good idea to have as little connection between the morsels you sell and your furry little friend pooping and scratching it to a fresh scent.  That’s just my opinion though.

 

Driving to the Carribean Coast

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We just got back from a week long road trip over to the other side of this small country.  We left from our Pacific Ocean, hot, humid, lovely sunset side of the country — passing over a horrific, rainy, cloud forest winding mountain, trucking lane, highway — to the wetter, less developed side on the coast of the Atlantic.
The ride over the mountain was pretty scary.  Call me crazy, but I tend to get a lil’ nervous driving through rainy mountain passes pressed between semi trucks and crazy drivers trying to pass in near zero visibility around blind corners in the pouring rain.  In Costa Rica, this is just called “commuting”….I guess.  I took a seat in the back, and tried to keep my eyes pasted out the passenger windows at the view of the jungle and the small waterfalls cascading down the sides of rock mountains.  It was better than seeing my life flash before my eyes!!  That’s for sure!

 

Pass on the left??  Uhh…no thank you.

 

 

Soon after getting past the scary mountain pass there is a change in the terrain.  It’s lush, lush, lush, green in every direction and there are what seems like endless miles of banana farms.  It rains in this region more than any other part of the country – which is great for vegetation, but not great for your home or building that may be in an area prone to flooding.  For this reason, many of the houses are built up on stilts which gives the place a real rustic, tropical vibe.

 

About an hour past the the mountain, you begin to approach the port city of Limon.  Along the highway (which is only 2 lanes most of the way) there are tons of cargo containers stacked up like small container high rise communities.  There are more semis, tanker trucks, traffic and you can see the commerce that moves from the port to and from the rest of the country.

 

 

At the coast, you can either head into the port or you can hang a right and head to the more desirable areas of the coast.  Limon is worth taking a quick drive through just to see, but it’s a port city just like anywhere else. Dirty, busy, and a little sketchy.
Port of Limon….from afar.
Having been through Limon before, we opted for the right turn taking us onto a gorgeous coastal highway that stretches for miles and miles to the wonderful beaches that lay ahead.
There is a noticeable change in the faces and culture of this part of Costa Rica compared to San Jose or the Pacific coast.  It’s like another country.  The Atlantic side is heavily influenced by the Caribbean islands because in the late 1800’s workers from Jamaica and other Caribbean islands came to Costa Rica to build the railroad and work on the emerging banana plantations.  Today, the majority of the population are of island descent.  Most speak English as a first language (like the islands), Spanish with island laden accents and you also hear a lot of Patois.
You can see the Rasta influence everywhere.  Street signs, light posts, cafes, bikes and buildings are painted in the Rasta colors — red, yellow and green.  There are posters and sarongs bearing Bob Marley’s face and you hear reggae music everywhere.

 

Building (a house?) in Manzanillo.

The drive from Limon down the coast is beautiful.  On one side you have the ocean where you can see the cargo and cruise ships heading into the port.


On the other side there are pueblos and small, scattered cottages among all the deep green foliage.

 

There’s a number of abandoned structures as well, 3 walls standing, roofless, with years of plant life growing and their own private jungle home inside.  We spotted one, the toilet visible full of plants. Nice pot!

There are tons of rivers — some large, some small that run from inland out to the ocean.

 

Around dusk, we finally arrived in Cahuita at the cute little house that a friend of ours was nice enough to let us borrow.  Tired from a long day in the car, but excited that we were finally there, we showered, got a quick bite to eat and settled in relatively early – hoping to wake to the sun for a day at the beach….

Stay tuned for more pix, stories, etc. from this trip….