Today we drove the far boonies above Heredia here in coffeeland to see how coffee is grown and prepared for sale. We found out that about 20% of the country is being used to grow coffee.
We arrived much too early as the first tour does not start until 11 AM. So we had ample time to mosey around the shop, the gardens and the coffee bushes. Everybody there spoke at least some English and was most eager to be pleasant and helpful. First order of the day was to visit the shop and coffee bar. A latte was good but not like a Starbucks. It was too weak with too much milk but what do I know about a proper latte. I like to taste the coffee. Marlies enjoyed her decaf but we were told that this would not be the real thing. Shop prices were quite steep so we didn't buy any souvenirs as we normally do.
So out we go to the gardens to take some pictures and there we met the manager of the place, Mario Porras P. who took us under his wings and gave us a preliminary private tour with detailed explanations of the operation. He wanted to treat us to a cup of coffee but I explained I already had a latte. He asked how I liked it. Well, I told him that I liked my Starbucks better. Oh my! I said the wrong thing because these folks think they are several levels above their competition selling the creme de la creme of coffees all over the world. He inquired as to how I like my coffee and then had the barista make me a special cup. Marlies got a latte too but like the one I had earlier. They explained that individual taste is paramount and that one needs to tell the barista how to prepare for one's taste. Gee! This time it came out better then a Starbucks and tempers were soothed. Apparently I needed a double hit and to stir the result.
Eventually it was time for the tour and two hours later we were experts in coffee making - not really. The entire process is extremely complicated and takes years to master. Coffee is a fruit and sweet. This sugar has to be removed and many other processes are involved in the prep and roasting phases. The beans have to be just right on the bush and are picked one by one as they are ready. This means a coffee bush is picked over many times to find the proper beans. The company contracts with approx. 1000 growers who use no fertilizer to get organic beans from their plots. They get $1.50 for a full basket of ripe beans which will result in maybe 1 pound of coffee at the end of the process. The tour itself costs $16 per person without lunch. Everybody stayed for lunch except us as we had already eaten an early lunch with our coffee.
I had intended to visit the Poas volcano after the tour but the skys looked too threatening and we decided to get back to our appartment instead. The afternoon rains are getting to be a problem as they pretty much kill the rest of the day. But we have time. I made reservations at a nice hotel near the airport for the 30th as we don't want the local rooster spectacle to ruin our anniversary night. I don't know what roosters hope to gain by making so much noise every 3 seconds. They don't believe in breaktime.
More in my phanfare pics.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Costa Rica
For our 50th wedding anniversary I planned something very different - much to the consternation of my wife. We are getting older by the minute and that process usually lends to keeping things the same. Surprises are not always welcome, but I like the challenge of it all.
So I arranged a trip to a new country as a followup of our 25th anniversary to St Martins. Time flies.
The flight had its usual delays and idiotic scanning of everything as we surely must be terrorists in disguise. If only the government could think. Arriving in this country had a rental car driver pick us up and take us to our lodging in a town called Grecia off the beaten track in the Central Highlands. I thought this would place us closer to the locals then some fancy hotel with pool and amenities we have at home already. Well, the place may be super for the locals but not quite up to the standards of the other half. We are right on the busy highway when we are used to absolute silence at home on our acreage. Besides, the roosters start crowing rather early in the morning. I will vacate these premises for our actual anniversary date and throw some deserved luxury into the pot.
On 4/21/10 we had a first full day here and used it to test driving somewhere using the GPS I had purchased and loaded with a local map. We went to a botanical garden of course. In this case the place was on the other side of the capital near the town of Paraiso. It was a long drive and we were concerned about gas as we only had a half tank from the agency and the drive from the airport revealed only one gas station. It is a mystery to us where all these millions of cars get their gas but gas stations certainly are rare here. We pulled into the one that we had seen and were told that the equipment had failed due to the rainstorm we had during the night. They sent us to another station which we could not find.
So off we went to Lankester Botanical Gardens assuming we could find a station closer to San Jose which was the case. The price for a fill-up was 25,000 thingees of the local currency or $50. How can these people afford to drive around here. The drive itself in the morning was horrifying. Busses and motorcycles jockying for a yard or so at breakneck speeds. It seemed that I was part of a race to get somewhere. I like to drive fast but this is ridiculous here. The driving really defies description. One needs to have experienced it.
The park was found with our trusty little guide posted on the windshield. The GPS is a real godsent as I have no idea how anybody ever found anything around here when no street has a street sign. On our way back we stopped at a Supermarket without customers. These things seem to be new to the people as there are thousands of little shops lining every street for miles and miles. Anyway, we needed to shop visually as asking for things doesn't work very well.
Here at the appartment I'm having computer problems first with the keyboard which seems to have no question mark anywhere and second the delete key is missing or hidden somewhere. Then the promised wireless doesn't work as no one seems to know the security code to use a wireless laptop. Somebody is supposed to visit here to figure this out but in the meantime I'm using this Spanish computer to do my chores. Then the cell phone I had rented to make reservations and for emergency is dead as a doornail. At least the Suzuki runs OK even though it has 98,000 plus miles on it. The roads here must be hell on cars as they go through a permanent shaking process.
A general observation is the abject poverty here. Yet, people are very friendly and helpful. A couple times someone waved at me and I didn't respond as the wave must have been meant for someone behind me known to the waver. Then I figured out that this was normal to say hello to strangers. I like it. The poverty is reflected in the prices for everything. It seems that anything not made here is more expensive then in the US. A small box of Kellogs serial is over $5. A few odds and ends at the supermarket were $35 which is over 30,000 rojas. That's a wad of money. Speaking of money. I needed some local currency and stopped at a bank in San Jose. Outside are armed guards which machine guns. They direct you into a glass enclosed closet with sliding doors at each end. I presume there are metal detectors or x-ray machines at work. Once they've mustered you the other end opens up and another guard confronts you as to your purpose. They give you a number and you sit along with 30 or so other people with numbers. Cameras are everywhere and voice and sign boards announces numbers to go to certain window numbers. It's like 1984 with numbers running your life. In my lane the girl spoke fluent English and asked for my passport. Well gee, I don't normally carry that around with me. Out I go to see if Marlies had to foresight to take these along. She did and I started the process all over again. The teller examined my $100 bills with a fine tooth comb and fingernail scratches and recorded my passboard etc to give me some local doe. It goes fast around here and credit cards are not really in style except at the gas station. I guess the amounts there are too high to use cash.
I have pictures in my phanfare site to accompany these descriptions.
So I arranged a trip to a new country as a followup of our 25th anniversary to St Martins. Time flies.
The flight had its usual delays and idiotic scanning of everything as we surely must be terrorists in disguise. If only the government could think. Arriving in this country had a rental car driver pick us up and take us to our lodging in a town called Grecia off the beaten track in the Central Highlands. I thought this would place us closer to the locals then some fancy hotel with pool and amenities we have at home already. Well, the place may be super for the locals but not quite up to the standards of the other half. We are right on the busy highway when we are used to absolute silence at home on our acreage. Besides, the roosters start crowing rather early in the morning. I will vacate these premises for our actual anniversary date and throw some deserved luxury into the pot.
On 4/21/10 we had a first full day here and used it to test driving somewhere using the GPS I had purchased and loaded with a local map. We went to a botanical garden of course. In this case the place was on the other side of the capital near the town of Paraiso. It was a long drive and we were concerned about gas as we only had a half tank from the agency and the drive from the airport revealed only one gas station. It is a mystery to us where all these millions of cars get their gas but gas stations certainly are rare here. We pulled into the one that we had seen and were told that the equipment had failed due to the rainstorm we had during the night. They sent us to another station which we could not find.
So off we went to Lankester Botanical Gardens assuming we could find a station closer to San Jose which was the case. The price for a fill-up was 25,000 thingees of the local currency or $50. How can these people afford to drive around here. The drive itself in the morning was horrifying. Busses and motorcycles jockying for a yard or so at breakneck speeds. It seemed that I was part of a race to get somewhere. I like to drive fast but this is ridiculous here. The driving really defies description. One needs to have experienced it.
The park was found with our trusty little guide posted on the windshield. The GPS is a real godsent as I have no idea how anybody ever found anything around here when no street has a street sign. On our way back we stopped at a Supermarket without customers. These things seem to be new to the people as there are thousands of little shops lining every street for miles and miles. Anyway, we needed to shop visually as asking for things doesn't work very well.
Here at the appartment I'm having computer problems first with the keyboard which seems to have no question mark anywhere and second the delete key is missing or hidden somewhere. Then the promised wireless doesn't work as no one seems to know the security code to use a wireless laptop. Somebody is supposed to visit here to figure this out but in the meantime I'm using this Spanish computer to do my chores. Then the cell phone I had rented to make reservations and for emergency is dead as a doornail. At least the Suzuki runs OK even though it has 98,000 plus miles on it. The roads here must be hell on cars as they go through a permanent shaking process.
A general observation is the abject poverty here. Yet, people are very friendly and helpful. A couple times someone waved at me and I didn't respond as the wave must have been meant for someone behind me known to the waver. Then I figured out that this was normal to say hello to strangers. I like it. The poverty is reflected in the prices for everything. It seems that anything not made here is more expensive then in the US. A small box of Kellogs serial is over $5. A few odds and ends at the supermarket were $35 which is over 30,000 rojas. That's a wad of money. Speaking of money. I needed some local currency and stopped at a bank in San Jose. Outside are armed guards which machine guns. They direct you into a glass enclosed closet with sliding doors at each end. I presume there are metal detectors or x-ray machines at work. Once they've mustered you the other end opens up and another guard confronts you as to your purpose. They give you a number and you sit along with 30 or so other people with numbers. Cameras are everywhere and voice and sign boards announces numbers to go to certain window numbers. It's like 1984 with numbers running your life. In my lane the girl spoke fluent English and asked for my passport. Well gee, I don't normally carry that around with me. Out I go to see if Marlies had to foresight to take these along. She did and I started the process all over again. The teller examined my $100 bills with a fine tooth comb and fingernail scratches and recorded my passboard etc to give me some local doe. It goes fast around here and credit cards are not really in style except at the gas station. I guess the amounts there are too high to use cash.
I have pictures in my phanfare site to accompany these descriptions.
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