Hello Dear Ones,

We’ve been in Costa Rica just shy of three weeks. It occurred to us recently that it might be more effective to share our adventure through one periodic missive vs. bits of pieces by way of email and text. So here it is: our first “Parrotts of the Caribbean” post.

Not surprisingly, there have been a lot of adjustments. To the heat, the insects and the language, in that order.

We’re learning to rise early, get lots of things done by 10am, move slowly if at all until 2 pm, and then creep out of the shade to resume activity by 3 pm. The sun rises at 6am and sets at 6pm every day of the year. The birds are up at 5 am, joyously heralding the new dawn. And as the darkness thickens at dusk, so does the raucous clamor of the jungle frogs and insects.

Speaking of insects, they rule this part of the world. Leave juice droplets or crumbs on the counter and an army of miniscule ants surrounds it within minutes. As we’ve gotten to know the few green spaces in Limón, we were at first mystified at these winding snake-like trails. Much like the deer trails on the side of Blue Hill, it looked like a very large python was regularly trekking from his condominium down to the local watering hole. Now that we’ve taken our first rainforest hike, we’ve learned through observation that these trails are in fact superhighways for ants. They tirelessly march to and fro carrying pieces of carefully carved leaves, their tiny footsteps wearing the dense forest floor down to bare dirt.

Our new home, Limón—which I’ve affectionately described as the armpit of Costa Rica—is a rough and tumble port town. Outbound trucks carrying Dole pineapples and Chiquita bananas and inbound trucks carrying all number of things from China roar through town at all hours on the one main thoroughfare. Acres upon acres of real estate are devoted to simply storing containers. Limón is not a tourist destination, but a speedy pass-through to the laid-back Rastafarian-infused surf beaches of the southern Caribbean coast.

The good news is that we are probably the only gringos in town. It truly feels like we are in a far-away foreign land where we don’t look like anyone else. We are using our meager Spanish every day to ride the bus, negotiate taxi fares and buy produce at the local market. But it turns out that not everyone here speaks Spanish. There is a significant Afro-Caribbean community hailing from Jamaica and other West Indian islands that arrived over 100 years ago, some to build the railroads and others to escape slavery. They speak an English patois. Some of the elders refuse to speak Spanish, which became the official language of Costa Rica in the 1940s.

We have taken two weekend get-aways down to those southern beaches and we’ll talk more about that next time.

Hasta luego, Kim

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It sure is hot here. I used to shower once a month. Now I find I must do so nearly weekly. The climate here is not naturally suited to a New Englander, despite my many years in the tropics, for which I will probably pay the ultimate price.

It may sound strange but one of my first responses to being here is how nice it is to not be chased, driven and constantly engaged in the maintenance of a home. Luckily, my Dad is staying on top of the critical things, for which we are thankful, but living in Limon is a major departure from life at home in a way I did not expect.

We learned early that Costa Rica’s center of power and identity is in the central highlands, far from coasts. Try to think of a country, especially one with 2 oceans, whose capital and center of gravity is unconnected to water. Ok, Switzerland and Mongolia immediately leapt to mind for me too! Well, this is what makes this experiment interesting. A 2-ocean country with almost no nautical tradition. Some of this is readily explained by an utter dearth of natural harbors. It could not be more different from New England. Why build a boat if you have no harbor?

Love, Daniel

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The Kessler and Sam Update

Kessler is attending a bi-lingual high school. Most of her day is in Spanish with the occasional grammar lecture in English. She wears a uniform which dramatically simplifies the “what should I wear today” decision. The school day is long starting at 7:30 and ending at 3:30. The tradeoff is not much homework, which is fortunate since she comes home to work on an online AP Literature course.

Sam is finishing up the semester in Limestone, Maine, at the Maine School of Science and Mathematics. It’s guaranteed that they have more snow than any of the rest of us right now. He will join us in late May. Fortunately he just had his own Caribbean adventure over February break with family friends in Antigua. It was strange to know he was on the same latitude as us this last week.

Ciao, Los Parrotts