A Typical Day
Long day, but I think that it was pretty typical of how things go squirrely here and some of the beauty of living in Costa Rica.
I got up around sunrise to get an early start on the day and get a long list of things done. After making sure that I had the tools and junk that I thought I would need for the day, I loaded up the car and hit the road...
It took me nearly ten minutes to realize that I had forgotten my coffee. Dangit! I did not want to take the 20 or so minutes round-trip to go get it, but knew that it was going to be a rough morning without. Ah, well, such is life.
I arrived in Liberia after an uneventful 80 minute drive into the rising sun, and was sitting at the Revision Technica Gate when they opened for the morning. I need to do a 'voluntary' annual inspection in order to straighten my vehicle paperwork. The annual inspection is widely regarded as being slightly better than a dental exam, in terms of overall pleasure. So there I was, smiling and friendly, chatting with the Person Behind the Glass Divider to get my place in line. I was extra friendly and nice because I knew that I did not have an appointment (none available until end-of-month) and was thus at the mercy of said Person Behind the Glass Divider. I knew that the no-appointment detail was unfortunate, but when I had spoken to the Person On the Phone yesterday, she told me that no-appointment status would take longer but was not a problem.
It was a problem. In Liberia there is no provision for no-appointment status. You simply can't do it. Would have been good information *before* driving all the way there! Since the Phone Person was so wrong on the no-appointment status, I decided to ask the Behind the Glass Person to check for available appointments this week. Pure genius on my part. There *is* an available appointment. Tomorrow (Saturday) in Nicoya, which is only an hour from my house. Disco.
Slightly frustrated by my failure, but buoyed by my potential success on Saturday, I proceeded to the turbo mechanic. The nice folks at Laboratorio Turbo Diesel are becoming friends of mine. I see them twice a week this month. After fully rebuilding my injectors, and accidentally giving me the wrong seats, which required removing/replacing the injectors not once, but twice; then fully rebuilding my turbo, and not having a correct gasket which required a little fiddling, we were still right back as square one- my turbo was only producing 5lb of boost when it should give 13.6psi.
It was a head-scratcher, but we rather assumed that the problem was the turbo wastegate, which they did not specifically remember testing when they had the turbo on the bench. Too bad, the wastegate is pretty well hidden between the turbo housing and the motor and is thus a certified pain in the ass to access without pulling the manifold and turbo off of the vehicle (which is also a PITA, but at least it can be done whereas accessing the wastegate on-vehicle is closer to impossible).
I left the truck in their happy hands and went off in search of coffee. I was pleased to eat at the bus station for the second time in a week (not sure about the 'States, but in CR, some of the best cheap food is always at public transit hubs: cheap and delicious). The gallo pinto was fabulous, the coffee strong and hot, and my scrambled eggs with tomato were appropriately scrambled and tomato'ed. The hand-made tortilla on the side could not be improved upon.
After thoroughly enjoying my chow and watching the comings and goings of people at the bus station, I packed up and got ready to run some other errands. Just then I got a call from the LTD guys- they needed my ignition key to test the turbo. "Waitaminute. You've already re-installed it?" "Yep".
Now I'm worried. There's no way that anyone short of a top-flight race mechanic on amphetamines could pull, troubleshoot, and install a turbo in the time it took me to eat my breakfast, it just isn't possible. But instead of argue with the Office Guy on the phone, I walked back to the shop. Sure enough, they hadn't pulled/fixed/replaced anything, but just needed to run the engine to trouble-shoot. Okay. No worries. Here's the key, my bad for taking it (habit).
With that done, I walked back into town in the now-rising heat. I walked to the bank. Quick non chronological plot development: Between the RTV and the LTD, I drove out to the COSEVI (similar to the US DMV, in a very broad sense of the word "similar") to see what need be done to renew my soon-to-expire CR driver's license. Part of the process is to pay 10,000 colones ($20) at the bank and get a receipt. In typical Costa Rican urban planning, the nearest bank is 10 or so miles away from the COSEVI office. So I headed into town and here we catch the previous thread of our story....
In the bank I had number 110, number 74 was at the window. There were eight windows with six of them staffed. Quick mental math told me "Leave. Come back later." Which is precisely what I did.
I walked further into town to find a part for a neighbor. That is it's own saga and I'll save the story for another day, but it involves many, many phone calls and several visits to Liberia to get a part fixed. The part was never fixed at all, despite them having said that it was, and we are back to square one. Ridiculous. Typical.
With no progress there, I walked back to the bank. Not having a car is good exercise. But hot.
In the bank again (nearly 45 minutes later) they were serving number 97, but there were only five tellers now. Still, there was AC, so I opted to wait vs. head out to do other errands. I enjoyed watching a four-year old boy who was playing soccer between the waiting-area chairs and the tellers. He had a little 4" rubber ball and was aiming at I-don't-know-what, but it involved hitting the backs of complete strangers' legs. Pay attention: this is one of the things that makes Costa Rica AWESOME: each time the ball would carom off of a wall and into someone, the Someone would usually look around for the offending object, smile, and kick it back to the young boy.
Can you imagine what would happen in most places?!?! I saw this little miracle of getting along played out a dozen times and was impressed by the gentleness and kindness of the people each time. Children are sacred in Costa Rica.
Eventually a little girl got in on the action, playing with the little boy, and the assault on people doing business came to an end. The parents? I don't know who they may have been. Various adults got involved at various points, but nobody seems to have been in charge. If I were more energetic, I would tie this story together and better illustrate the metaphor that this experience is for living in Costa Rica. Maybe in my novel someday.
SNAP: back to reality. The only reason I got to enjoy this heartwarming spectacle is that in order to execute a very simple transaction (pay $20 to the COSEVI to renew my license) I had spent 40 minutes sitting at the bank after a 45 minute walk around two while waiting for my number to come up.
My take-a-number-and-wait ticket said 9:08am. I walked out at 10:56am and was back on the now-stultifyingly hot street. TAXI!!!
I jumped into a nice, new taxi with a big stinky driver. On the ten minute drive to the COSEVI I asked him about why his meter wasn't running.... and got a mumbled, invented response. We arrived safely and he extorted too much for the fare. I talked him down some, but still got a bad deal. Such is life.
I got an even worse deal from the little "medical exam" place across the street from COSEVI. See, to get your license renewed, you have to have a doctor (nurse? quack?) fill out a form that assures that you are alive, and have enough limbs and digits to operate a vehicle. After checking my blood pressure, height and weight (I didn't write down the bp, but I think that there were numbers like 70 130/XX involved? I'm at the same 66kg that I've occupied for nearly 20 years and unfortunately I'm still 1,70 short with my shoes on) she asked me for my blood type (A+, I knew, because I had called my mother to check) and if I had any ailments. That was the "exam". Oh, wait, she also asked me if I could read aloud a poster that was part way across the room, I could, which was apparently good enough for her. 15,000 colones ($30) and I was on my way. Complete ripoff.
I got to COSEVI and the nice guard person behind the desk (GPBD) shepherded me into the inner building. He and I had talked earlier (remember the non-chronological twist a few paragraphs ago?) and he was very upset then that my driver's license number did not match my residence ID number. One thing that Costa Rica does well vs. the USA is that they try very hard to have all of your ID numbers *match*. It makes book keeping much easier for all parties. In comparison, my recently renewed USA passport number is totally different than my original passport number and also different than my CA driver's license and my Social Security number. My library card is different still, but that's ok, I don't go to the library much anyway. Side to my aside: you can't even imagine how inconvenient the change of passport number is, in a country where your ID number is yours from birth till death. It is inconvenient.
So GPBD was in a little bit of a tizzy because the numbers were different and took it upon himself to Make Things Right. Which was just plain fantastic for me as I vaulted ahead of twelve other people in line, and instead of trying to talk through a 1" hole in the glass, I got to actually enter the office of the Person With the Computer. PWC and GPBD had a conversation that couldn't have been more inane, yet amusing, as he explained the situation, she repeated it, he confirmed it, she repeated it to me, I confirmed it with GPBD butting in to confirm my confirmation, then some sighs and literal head scratching, then finally PWC opened one screen, changed the license number to match my ID number, and this massive problem was instantly vaporized. Ten minutes of 'work' for ten seconds of actually fixing the 'problem'. But, hey, I was in the air conditioned inner sanctum under the protective wing of GPBD, so ten minutes watching other people sweating in 100*+ heat while my problem was solved... didn't seem so bad.
GPBD's kindness didn't end there. Perhaps he thought I needed special care after the perilous non-matching-numbers episode. I don't know. Maybe it was my winning smile? He took me from PWC to another Person with a Camera and Computer. I was genuinely impressed that PWCC managed to snap my photo, take my digital fingerprint, and get me to sign a little digital thingy all while speaking in a voice that I doubt even *he* could hear, inside his own head. Nice fellow, but boy it would help if he could speak up a little. At least the stuff I had to do was relatively self explanatory.
Maybe this is commonplace in some places, but the next part wowed me: the machine next to PWCC's computer and camera started whirring and clanking. It sounded like a sewing machine was mating with a VW bug. Less than a minute later, a minute filled with Mr. Quiet's lips moving but no way in this earth I could even hear his whisper, let alone understand him, and 'click', my new ID spits out of the machine. All done. Nifty! I signed a little book of his stating that I have my new ID, and I was off again- back into the now *painful* 106* full midday sun heat. I stopped to show GBPD my new license (correct number) and he seemed touched by my thoughtfulness. I imagine most people just walk on by. Poor guy.
Sweating through my shirt after just walking across the street, I took a seat under the shade of the bus stop, and awaited a bus. After a few minutes, a cabbie was pulling out and gave me a "What's Up?" gesture. Sort of a palm upturned with shoulder shrug thing. Very common here. He then point towards Liberia. I rubbed my fingers with my thumb in what I believe to be a more-or-less universal "money" gesture, and he showed me five fingers. I thumbs-upped him, he drove across the street and stopped. Still stinging from my earlier cabbie experience, I confirmed 500 colones to get to Liberia. He said yes, I happily entered the meat-locker cold of his taxi and we were on the way. He smelled nice, like inexpensive soap. This was an entirely more pleasant taxi experience and 20% of the cost of the "To" trip. Happiness reigned.
I got back to my truck (and was immediately drenched in sweat again- 105 with humidity just isn't fair) to find that they had made some progress in that they determined that the turbo was functioning perfectly. Being a turbo-repair place, they couldn't help but say that with a hint of smug. After a few more test drives (one without the exhaust in place, wow, that does make a difference on noise and power) we determined the problem: the fuel filter holder leaks air into the fuel line at a fitting.
Let me recap the basic situation here: I've just spent $1,000 on major repair items, as well as about a week of my own time doing the labor for 90% of the repair, only to discover that a $35 fuel filter housing needs to be replaced- about a 1-hr job if you move slowly. Happiness's reign had ended.
While they buttoned up the exhaust and removed the old fuel filter housing, I walked (and perspired, a lot) the two blocks to get a new housing. Along the way, just for giggles, I stopped at the Toyota dealer to find out what Toyota wants for a new housing. A mere $228 for the housing and filter and water sensor, and it'll take 24 hours to arrive. At least I got a delicious cup of coffee along with my comedy relief. I walked another block to the parts store and paid $34 for the housing and a new filter. I also got some hose, in case you were worried. And some clamps gotta have clamps.
Israel, the mechanic at LTD, and I put the new filter in, which required drilling some holes, but that only took a little while. Then took the truck for a spin. Wooo-hooo!! Power. Power like this truck has never shown before. Plenty of boost, and a whole new driving experience. The turbo and injector repairs, while not necessarily the cause of what had gotten me into the shop in the first place, have re-awakened this old diesel motor. I'm very pleased!
My being pleased didn't stop there, however, when I asked the guys at LTD what I owed them for them having put 1 and 1/2 guys on my truck from before 9a.m. until after 3p.m. they said "Well, you paid for the filter, right?" I said yes. "Ok. Thanks for your business, we're sorry it didn't work for you the first time. No charge." Now very very pleased, I left Liberia for the drive home, passing at every opportunity, just to enjoy the surge of power. I should re-iterate that the fuel filter was in no way their fault/bad call or anything, yet they appreciated my laid-back tolerance of their minor mistakes on the other stuff, and thus I got a nice freebie out of it. That's sort of how it is supposed to work here-- a lesson that is hard to learn, sometimes.
Unfortunately, the little rubber connector on my boost gauge tore while I was driving home. Perhaps too much manipulation during the various repairs. So I didn't get to enjoy watching the gauge zoom up to 13psi, but still wasted a lot of fuel charging up every hill available.
I also have to reset my idle setting. The lack of air in the fuel stream means that the injection pump is slighly overfueled now.
I got home before sunset, stopping along the way to pick up some more supplies. Still joyful, I grabbed the mutt and we had a nice romp on the beach, with a swim. After that I took my sandy self to a local cafe to deliver some stuff I had picked up on the way home, and enjoyed a nice martini on the outdoor patio, with sand on my toes and the dog happily greeting each customer who came through. Deposed Happiness leapt sprightly to the throne again.
After a martini, I took us to Sharky's for a burger and beer (where I bumped into some friends and enjoyed a great conversation, and another beer), before finally heading home and into bed, exhausted.
Just a typical day here in what isn't always, but always could be, Paradise.
I got up around sunrise to get an early start on the day and get a long list of things done. After making sure that I had the tools and junk that I thought I would need for the day, I loaded up the car and hit the road...
It took me nearly ten minutes to realize that I had forgotten my coffee. Dangit! I did not want to take the 20 or so minutes round-trip to go get it, but knew that it was going to be a rough morning without. Ah, well, such is life.
I arrived in Liberia after an uneventful 80 minute drive into the rising sun, and was sitting at the Revision Technica Gate when they opened for the morning. I need to do a 'voluntary' annual inspection in order to straighten my vehicle paperwork. The annual inspection is widely regarded as being slightly better than a dental exam, in terms of overall pleasure. So there I was, smiling and friendly, chatting with the Person Behind the Glass Divider to get my place in line. I was extra friendly and nice because I knew that I did not have an appointment (none available until end-of-month) and was thus at the mercy of said Person Behind the Glass Divider. I knew that the no-appointment detail was unfortunate, but when I had spoken to the Person On the Phone yesterday, she told me that no-appointment status would take longer but was not a problem.
It was a problem. In Liberia there is no provision for no-appointment status. You simply can't do it. Would have been good information *before* driving all the way there! Since the Phone Person was so wrong on the no-appointment status, I decided to ask the Behind the Glass Person to check for available appointments this week. Pure genius on my part. There *is* an available appointment. Tomorrow (Saturday) in Nicoya, which is only an hour from my house. Disco.
Slightly frustrated by my failure, but buoyed by my potential success on Saturday, I proceeded to the turbo mechanic. The nice folks at Laboratorio Turbo Diesel are becoming friends of mine. I see them twice a week this month. After fully rebuilding my injectors, and accidentally giving me the wrong seats, which required removing/replacing the injectors not once, but twice; then fully rebuilding my turbo, and not having a correct gasket which required a little fiddling, we were still right back as square one- my turbo was only producing 5lb of boost when it should give 13.6psi.
It was a head-scratcher, but we rather assumed that the problem was the turbo wastegate, which they did not specifically remember testing when they had the turbo on the bench. Too bad, the wastegate is pretty well hidden between the turbo housing and the motor and is thus a certified pain in the ass to access without pulling the manifold and turbo off of the vehicle (which is also a PITA, but at least it can be done whereas accessing the wastegate on-vehicle is closer to impossible).
I left the truck in their happy hands and went off in search of coffee. I was pleased to eat at the bus station for the second time in a week (not sure about the 'States, but in CR, some of the best cheap food is always at public transit hubs: cheap and delicious). The gallo pinto was fabulous, the coffee strong and hot, and my scrambled eggs with tomato were appropriately scrambled and tomato'ed. The hand-made tortilla on the side could not be improved upon.
After thoroughly enjoying my chow and watching the comings and goings of people at the bus station, I packed up and got ready to run some other errands. Just then I got a call from the LTD guys- they needed my ignition key to test the turbo. "Waitaminute. You've already re-installed it?" "Yep".
Now I'm worried. There's no way that anyone short of a top-flight race mechanic on amphetamines could pull, troubleshoot, and install a turbo in the time it took me to eat my breakfast, it just isn't possible. But instead of argue with the Office Guy on the phone, I walked back to the shop. Sure enough, they hadn't pulled/fixed/replaced anything, but just needed to run the engine to trouble-shoot. Okay. No worries. Here's the key, my bad for taking it (habit).
With that done, I walked back into town in the now-rising heat. I walked to the bank. Quick non chronological plot development: Between the RTV and the LTD, I drove out to the COSEVI (similar to the US DMV, in a very broad sense of the word "similar") to see what need be done to renew my soon-to-expire CR driver's license. Part of the process is to pay 10,000 colones ($20) at the bank and get a receipt. In typical Costa Rican urban planning, the nearest bank is 10 or so miles away from the COSEVI office. So I headed into town and here we catch the previous thread of our story....
In the bank I had number 110, number 74 was at the window. There were eight windows with six of them staffed. Quick mental math told me "Leave. Come back later." Which is precisely what I did.
I walked further into town to find a part for a neighbor. That is it's own saga and I'll save the story for another day, but it involves many, many phone calls and several visits to Liberia to get a part fixed. The part was never fixed at all, despite them having said that it was, and we are back to square one. Ridiculous. Typical.
With no progress there, I walked back to the bank. Not having a car is good exercise. But hot.
In the bank again (nearly 45 minutes later) they were serving number 97, but there were only five tellers now. Still, there was AC, so I opted to wait vs. head out to do other errands. I enjoyed watching a four-year old boy who was playing soccer between the waiting-area chairs and the tellers. He had a little 4" rubber ball and was aiming at I-don't-know-what, but it involved hitting the backs of complete strangers' legs. Pay attention: this is one of the things that makes Costa Rica AWESOME: each time the ball would carom off of a wall and into someone, the Someone would usually look around for the offending object, smile, and kick it back to the young boy.
Can you imagine what would happen in most places?!?! I saw this little miracle of getting along played out a dozen times and was impressed by the gentleness and kindness of the people each time. Children are sacred in Costa Rica.
Eventually a little girl got in on the action, playing with the little boy, and the assault on people doing business came to an end. The parents? I don't know who they may have been. Various adults got involved at various points, but nobody seems to have been in charge. If I were more energetic, I would tie this story together and better illustrate the metaphor that this experience is for living in Costa Rica. Maybe in my novel someday.
SNAP: back to reality. The only reason I got to enjoy this heartwarming spectacle is that in order to execute a very simple transaction (pay $20 to the COSEVI to renew my license) I had spent 40 minutes sitting at the bank after a 45 minute walk around two while waiting for my number to come up.
My take-a-number-and-wait ticket said 9:08am. I walked out at 10:56am and was back on the now-stultifyingly hot street. TAXI!!!
I jumped into a nice, new taxi with a big stinky driver. On the ten minute drive to the COSEVI I asked him about why his meter wasn't running.... and got a mumbled, invented response. We arrived safely and he extorted too much for the fare. I talked him down some, but still got a bad deal. Such is life.
I got an even worse deal from the little "medical exam" place across the street from COSEVI. See, to get your license renewed, you have to have a doctor (nurse? quack?) fill out a form that assures that you are alive, and have enough limbs and digits to operate a vehicle. After checking my blood pressure, height and weight (I didn't write down the bp, but I think that there were numbers like 70 130/XX involved? I'm at the same 66kg that I've occupied for nearly 20 years and unfortunately I'm still 1,70 short with my shoes on) she asked me for my blood type (A+, I knew, because I had called my mother to check) and if I had any ailments. That was the "exam". Oh, wait, she also asked me if I could read aloud a poster that was part way across the room, I could, which was apparently good enough for her. 15,000 colones ($30) and I was on my way. Complete ripoff.
I got to COSEVI and the nice guard person behind the desk (GPBD) shepherded me into the inner building. He and I had talked earlier (remember the non-chronological twist a few paragraphs ago?) and he was very upset then that my driver's license number did not match my residence ID number. One thing that Costa Rica does well vs. the USA is that they try very hard to have all of your ID numbers *match*. It makes book keeping much easier for all parties. In comparison, my recently renewed USA passport number is totally different than my original passport number and also different than my CA driver's license and my Social Security number. My library card is different still, but that's ok, I don't go to the library much anyway. Side to my aside: you can't even imagine how inconvenient the change of passport number is, in a country where your ID number is yours from birth till death. It is inconvenient.
So GPBD was in a little bit of a tizzy because the numbers were different and took it upon himself to Make Things Right. Which was just plain fantastic for me as I vaulted ahead of twelve other people in line, and instead of trying to talk through a 1" hole in the glass, I got to actually enter the office of the Person With the Computer. PWC and GPBD had a conversation that couldn't have been more inane, yet amusing, as he explained the situation, she repeated it, he confirmed it, she repeated it to me, I confirmed it with GPBD butting in to confirm my confirmation, then some sighs and literal head scratching, then finally PWC opened one screen, changed the license number to match my ID number, and this massive problem was instantly vaporized. Ten minutes of 'work' for ten seconds of actually fixing the 'problem'. But, hey, I was in the air conditioned inner sanctum under the protective wing of GPBD, so ten minutes watching other people sweating in 100*+ heat while my problem was solved... didn't seem so bad.
GPBD's kindness didn't end there. Perhaps he thought I needed special care after the perilous non-matching-numbers episode. I don't know. Maybe it was my winning smile? He took me from PWC to another Person with a Camera and Computer. I was genuinely impressed that PWCC managed to snap my photo, take my digital fingerprint, and get me to sign a little digital thingy all while speaking in a voice that I doubt even *he* could hear, inside his own head. Nice fellow, but boy it would help if he could speak up a little. At least the stuff I had to do was relatively self explanatory.
Maybe this is commonplace in some places, but the next part wowed me: the machine next to PWCC's computer and camera started whirring and clanking. It sounded like a sewing machine was mating with a VW bug. Less than a minute later, a minute filled with Mr. Quiet's lips moving but no way in this earth I could even hear his whisper, let alone understand him, and 'click', my new ID spits out of the machine. All done. Nifty! I signed a little book of his stating that I have my new ID, and I was off again- back into the now *painful* 106* full midday sun heat. I stopped to show GBPD my new license (correct number) and he seemed touched by my thoughtfulness. I imagine most people just walk on by. Poor guy.
Sweating through my shirt after just walking across the street, I took a seat under the shade of the bus stop, and awaited a bus. After a few minutes, a cabbie was pulling out and gave me a "What's Up?" gesture. Sort of a palm upturned with shoulder shrug thing. Very common here. He then point towards Liberia. I rubbed my fingers with my thumb in what I believe to be a more-or-less universal "money" gesture, and he showed me five fingers. I thumbs-upped him, he drove across the street and stopped. Still stinging from my earlier cabbie experience, I confirmed 500 colones to get to Liberia. He said yes, I happily entered the meat-locker cold of his taxi and we were on the way. He smelled nice, like inexpensive soap. This was an entirely more pleasant taxi experience and 20% of the cost of the "To" trip. Happiness reigned.
I got back to my truck (and was immediately drenched in sweat again- 105 with humidity just isn't fair) to find that they had made some progress in that they determined that the turbo was functioning perfectly. Being a turbo-repair place, they couldn't help but say that with a hint of smug. After a few more test drives (one without the exhaust in place, wow, that does make a difference on noise and power) we determined the problem: the fuel filter holder leaks air into the fuel line at a fitting.
Let me recap the basic situation here: I've just spent $1,000 on major repair items, as well as about a week of my own time doing the labor for 90% of the repair, only to discover that a $35 fuel filter housing needs to be replaced- about a 1-hr job if you move slowly. Happiness's reign had ended.
While they buttoned up the exhaust and removed the old fuel filter housing, I walked (and perspired, a lot) the two blocks to get a new housing. Along the way, just for giggles, I stopped at the Toyota dealer to find out what Toyota wants for a new housing. A mere $228 for the housing and filter and water sensor, and it'll take 24 hours to arrive. At least I got a delicious cup of coffee along with my comedy relief. I walked another block to the parts store and paid $34 for the housing and a new filter. I also got some hose, in case you were worried. And some clamps gotta have clamps.
Israel, the mechanic at LTD, and I put the new filter in, which required drilling some holes, but that only took a little while. Then took the truck for a spin. Wooo-hooo!! Power. Power like this truck has never shown before. Plenty of boost, and a whole new driving experience. The turbo and injector repairs, while not necessarily the cause of what had gotten me into the shop in the first place, have re-awakened this old diesel motor. I'm very pleased!
My being pleased didn't stop there, however, when I asked the guys at LTD what I owed them for them having put 1 and 1/2 guys on my truck from before 9a.m. until after 3p.m. they said "Well, you paid for the filter, right?" I said yes. "Ok. Thanks for your business, we're sorry it didn't work for you the first time. No charge." Now very very pleased, I left Liberia for the drive home, passing at every opportunity, just to enjoy the surge of power. I should re-iterate that the fuel filter was in no way their fault/bad call or anything, yet they appreciated my laid-back tolerance of their minor mistakes on the other stuff, and thus I got a nice freebie out of it. That's sort of how it is supposed to work here-- a lesson that is hard to learn, sometimes.
Unfortunately, the little rubber connector on my boost gauge tore while I was driving home. Perhaps too much manipulation during the various repairs. So I didn't get to enjoy watching the gauge zoom up to 13psi, but still wasted a lot of fuel charging up every hill available.
I also have to reset my idle setting. The lack of air in the fuel stream means that the injection pump is slighly overfueled now.
I got home before sunset, stopping along the way to pick up some more supplies. Still joyful, I grabbed the mutt and we had a nice romp on the beach, with a swim. After that I took my sandy self to a local cafe to deliver some stuff I had picked up on the way home, and enjoyed a nice martini on the outdoor patio, with sand on my toes and the dog happily greeting each customer who came through. Deposed Happiness leapt sprightly to the throne again.
After a martini, I took us to Sharky's for a burger and beer (where I bumped into some friends and enjoyed a great conversation, and another beer), before finally heading home and into bed, exhausted.
Just a typical day here in what isn't always, but always could be, Paradise.
Labels: Costa Rica, dog, land cruiser, liberia, repair, tamarindo, weather
Very Hot Weather
It was over 100*F in Tamarindo today (nearly 40*C). I, however, spent the hot part of the day in Liberia, where it was 41*C in the shade at nearly 5pm. That's 106*F, folks. Hot. Damn hot.
Oddly for this time of year, it is also windy. Which is great comfort as the wind, at least, helps make the heat a little more bearable. My plants don't agree. They seem to think that the wind and heat is a good excuse to shrivel up and die.
Oddly for this time of year, it is also windy. Which is great comfort as the wind, at least, helps make the heat a little more bearable. My plants don't agree. They seem to think that the wind and heat is a good excuse to shrivel up and die.
Labels: Costa Rica, tamarindo, weather
Driving Day, Boo to Blogger, New Link
I spent all day (and I mean, all day) behind the wheel yesterday for the first time in a long time. It wasn't so bad, I'm pleased to report. I'll get back to the nuances, but first a little venting and a link.
Blogger just sent me a note saying that they won't be supporting ftp-based blogs anymore. WTH? Now why in good gravy would they do that? It appears that they would rather shoulder the cost of the bandwidth than have me pay for my own site, or they want me to get a custom url... I haven't even read the whole note yet, but I'm frustrated by yet another example of the computer-based world's inability to just leave well-enough alone. We've been using this system for.... I don't remember how long! 5 years? But now we'll be doing something different. So if you see major operating issues with Sandcruiser.com come about May 1, it is because Google has decided to mess with things and we're trying to find the least painful solution. If anyone has any suggestions for alternative blogging software/systems, please feel free to let me know.
And speaking of blogs- I just found Bio Truck Expedition which is a well-written travelogue about a man with wanderlust and a veggie-powered Mercedes van. His exploits to date include some QT in an Indian jail (for having a satphone) as well as some mechanical mishaps, hang-gliding, and who-know-what. Take a look, you'll probably enjoy reading about his travels.
As for yesterday:
Got up at 4, didn't get out of here until a little after 6:30 due to a coffee machine failure, low tire pressure, some pressing email, and a desire to play with the dog a little bit before leaving her alone all day long. Took the new highway to San Jose from Caldera. It is a much nicer road than the old highway. The tolls aren't too high, but might seem that way to many locals. I didn't keep track but would estimate that it was about 2,000 colones, total, which is under $4. It almost certainly saves at least $4 in fuel and wear and tear on the vehicle. I'm sure that under normal conditions, it also saves much time. I was unlucky in that there were two spots in which they were doing road repair due to rock slides.... so I waited for about 15 minutes at each and had more traffic, so it probably added 45 minutes to the drive, which erased much of the gains of taking the fast road. So be it. I arrived at the US Embassy around 10-something (Note: 4 1/2 hours to San Jose is a big step up from the old highway which takes 5-7 hours. All this for a drive that is less than 150 miles).
The Embassy trip marks for me the very first time that I've felt preferential treatment for being a gringo in Costa Rica. Upon arrival I skipped to the front of the 50-person line and was admitted straight into the 1st security checkpoint. Should you go there, be aware that they will hold your iPod, phone, flashlight, headphones... pretty much anything electronic, while you are inside the embassy. I am sure it is for "security" but I suspect that a fringe benefit is that people are less likely to miss the audio prompts for "8....3....4 to Window 4" which has the net effect of speeding things right along, but makes the wait more boring (glad I brought a book).
They have a photo booth at the entrance, for $2 you get the two passport photos that are requested on the forms and website, only one of which is needed, as I'll explain later.
I then got to skip ahead of the next line, which consisted of over 100 people. Wow. The little blue US passport was like a magic wand in that place: just wave it at the person tending the line and they pull the nylon tape out of the way and usher you to the next stop. Good stuff!
At the window, things proceeded well with the exception of the person behind the glass insisting that I put at least two US phone numbers. See... I don't call US phone numbers very often, and the only ones that I do call, I store them in my cellphone for reference. My cellphone was handily locked in the security checkpoint.... so I finally took a page out of my Tico survival manual: When you are required to furnish information that you don't know, and suspect is arbitrary, just make it up. So, hey, if someone calls 408-701-0001 looking for Steve.... um.... tell them I'm out of town? Sorry about that.
$75 and another brief wait got me a chance to chat with a very nice young lady who seemed to be a little slow on the uptake, but was so full of smiles that it was easy to patient with her. She offered to give me one of those fat-daddy upgraded passports because "You seem to travel a lot". Which is nice, because if past history is any indication of future performance (despite what your stock broker tells you, it usually is) I'll probably have a pretty large number of stamps in my new passport within the first month. She then informed me that my new passport would be ready in about 14 days, at which point I would need to return, with my old passport, to get my new one. In reading the website at the US Embassy Passport Page I knew that her info was only mostly true. But she didn't really seem to know that, which I found oddly disconcerting. The following are just four of the odd bits of misinformation on the website:
Along the way I accidentally pulled a serious Tico line-cutting move. If you have spent any time in Costa Rica, at some point a Tico has jumped the queue and pushed their way ahead of you. This can happen in the bank, or at a bar, or onto a bus, or a grocery store, almost anywhere. I 100% guarantee it has happened to you; unless you are sitting in the airport reading this. Even then, odds are pretty high that it happened getting off of the plane. As a visitor to this wonderful country, I usually just shrug it off and keep doing whatever I'm doing, but it does bug me. Well, yesterday I was the grand-cutter-of-long-lines. Maybe it was due to the unprecedented courtesy of the embassy security who kept letting me cut in other lines, or maybe it was subconscious expression of years of frustration, or maybe I was just tired and didn't notice. One thing is for sure: when I walked out of the thick glass "inner sanctum" door of the passport processing facility, and walked right up to the DHL desk and started talking to the DHL guy, I did so right in the face of about 45 people who were waiting in line, and would probably continue to wait in line for at least 1/2 hour before getting anything done. I did it without malice, but once I realized that I had cut off all of those people, I must confess that I did snicker a little bit (internally) at how, for the first time, I as on the winning end of such a bold move.
After my Embassy coup (getting in and out in less than 90 minutes really did seem a coup to me), I had to navigate across town to pick some stuff up for a friend. It sucked, but my momentary getting-lost-in-Heredia experience probably saved the friend many hours or many $$ in work, so I'm glad to have helped. Maybe I atoned for my line-cutting.
From there I worked my way back across town to do some shopping and to find some roofing sealant stuff. I won't go into all the details, but this roofing stuff shouldn't be my job in the first place. The rat-bastard son of a motherless goat designer who built Oro del Sol did a poor job of designing the walls. There are leaks. He is legally required to fix them, but hasn't done so, despite many many appeals from us. At one point the guy actually had the gall to tell me that it would cost me more to sue him than to just fix the leak. He was right, so I'm fixing the leak but spewing venom at every opportunity. He did give us $55 worth of material to fix it ourselves, which covered about 1/2 the problm, but kept giving me "mañana" on getting me the rest of the material. Anyway, he is a bad person based on my business dealings with him and I'll take a moment to assure everyone that the odds of me selling/buying another Patrick Rey home are very nearly zero. Unless the current owner has been there long enough to have fixed the problems that he left behind. Rant over.
I've been searching high and low for this Alucapa stuff from Venezuela. Apparently there is one place that sells it in Costa Rica. ONE. I finally found them and the guy was super-nice. Nice enough to help guide me through the industrial area in which they are located, by cellphone, to get me to the store just before closing. Upon arriving I was dismayed to find out that they are all out of Alucapa. Won't get more till around June. Arrrrgh!! Frustration! But I hung around, mostly because I was so frustrated I didn't want to drive and kill someone, and we chatted. After a spell, I discovered that they did have some end-cuts in a pile. Pretty big end-cuts. Big enough, in fact, that when we put a bunch together it was actually more than a full roll. Whoo-hoo! I asked if I could buy the cuts, the friendly guy disappeared into the office for a minute, then returned and said, "Just take it". Now, I know I only "scored" $55 worth of free material. But compared to getting nothing, or re-inventing the wheel, or waiting until June (well into the rainy season), I was elated.
As if that wasn't enough, I asked for directions to get to where I was going next, in order to miss the rapidly accumulating huge traffic jam, and the nice fellow offered to lead me all the way across town, through rush hour traffic, as he was sorta going in the same direction anyway. He probably added 1/2 hour to his evening commute, but saved me at least an hour. What a nice guy! If you need roofing products in San Jose, check out Cindu, in La Uruca, in front of Loza.
I did my last errand, a quick trip to the Costa Rica ARB distributor, to pick up 2 orings that defy Costa Rican postal transit (two tries, no success to date). The proprietor there is a great guy and I wish I had more time to chew the fat with him, but it was getting dark and I wanted to get home.
So at 6pm, after a very long day, I set out on a long drive back to Tamarindo. I did stop along the road and ate a GREAT dinner (whole fried corvina, yucca, salad, lemonade, hot coffee... all for about $7) which took nearly an hour. I also had to stop a few more times to stretch and walk around a bit as I was feeling drowsy. I got in the door at 11:09pm, exhausted.
Whew.
*Note on DHL: "'closer to you", in this case, means that DHL can only deliver your passport to the "nearest DHL office", which actually means "nearest DHL distribution center", which, for me, means Liberia. That's about an hour from my house, but much better than driving back to San Jose for it. Still.... if they can take it to their office, why can't they take it to my office? Isn't that what DHL does? Deliver stuff?
Blogger just sent me a note saying that they won't be supporting ftp-based blogs anymore. WTH? Now why in good gravy would they do that? It appears that they would rather shoulder the cost of the bandwidth than have me pay for my own site, or they want me to get a custom url... I haven't even read the whole note yet, but I'm frustrated by yet another example of the computer-based world's inability to just leave well-enough alone. We've been using this system for.... I don't remember how long! 5 years? But now we'll be doing something different. So if you see major operating issues with Sandcruiser.com come about May 1, it is because Google has decided to mess with things and we're trying to find the least painful solution. If anyone has any suggestions for alternative blogging software/systems, please feel free to let me know.
And speaking of blogs- I just found Bio Truck Expedition which is a well-written travelogue about a man with wanderlust and a veggie-powered Mercedes van. His exploits to date include some QT in an Indian jail (for having a satphone) as well as some mechanical mishaps, hang-gliding, and who-know-what. Take a look, you'll probably enjoy reading about his travels.
As for yesterday:
Got up at 4, didn't get out of here until a little after 6:30 due to a coffee machine failure, low tire pressure, some pressing email, and a desire to play with the dog a little bit before leaving her alone all day long. Took the new highway to San Jose from Caldera. It is a much nicer road than the old highway. The tolls aren't too high, but might seem that way to many locals. I didn't keep track but would estimate that it was about 2,000 colones, total, which is under $4. It almost certainly saves at least $4 in fuel and wear and tear on the vehicle. I'm sure that under normal conditions, it also saves much time. I was unlucky in that there were two spots in which they were doing road repair due to rock slides.... so I waited for about 15 minutes at each and had more traffic, so it probably added 45 minutes to the drive, which erased much of the gains of taking the fast road. So be it. I arrived at the US Embassy around 10-something (Note: 4 1/2 hours to San Jose is a big step up from the old highway which takes 5-7 hours. All this for a drive that is less than 150 miles).
The Embassy trip marks for me the very first time that I've felt preferential treatment for being a gringo in Costa Rica. Upon arrival I skipped to the front of the 50-person line and was admitted straight into the 1st security checkpoint. Should you go there, be aware that they will hold your iPod, phone, flashlight, headphones... pretty much anything electronic, while you are inside the embassy. I am sure it is for "security" but I suspect that a fringe benefit is that people are less likely to miss the audio prompts for "8....3....4 to Window 4" which has the net effect of speeding things right along, but makes the wait more boring (glad I brought a book).
They have a photo booth at the entrance, for $2 you get the two passport photos that are requested on the forms and website, only one of which is needed, as I'll explain later.
I then got to skip ahead of the next line, which consisted of over 100 people. Wow. The little blue US passport was like a magic wand in that place: just wave it at the person tending the line and they pull the nylon tape out of the way and usher you to the next stop. Good stuff!
At the window, things proceeded well with the exception of the person behind the glass insisting that I put at least two US phone numbers. See... I don't call US phone numbers very often, and the only ones that I do call, I store them in my cellphone for reference. My cellphone was handily locked in the security checkpoint.... so I finally took a page out of my Tico survival manual: When you are required to furnish information that you don't know, and suspect is arbitrary, just make it up. So, hey, if someone calls 408-701-0001 looking for Steve.... um.... tell them I'm out of town? Sorry about that.
$75 and another brief wait got me a chance to chat with a very nice young lady who seemed to be a little slow on the uptake, but was so full of smiles that it was easy to patient with her. She offered to give me one of those fat-daddy upgraded passports because "You seem to travel a lot". Which is nice, because if past history is any indication of future performance (despite what your stock broker tells you, it usually is) I'll probably have a pretty large number of stamps in my new passport within the first month. She then informed me that my new passport would be ready in about 14 days, at which point I would need to return, with my old passport, to get my new one. In reading the website at the US Embassy Passport Page I knew that her info was only mostly true. But she didn't really seem to know that, which I found oddly disconcerting. The following are just four of the odd bits of misinformation on the website:
| The website says | My Experience |
| "You need two passport photos." | I got two, carried one around, then finally asked "What about this second photo" to which she replied "Give it to your wife!" Huh. Sure glad I bought two photos. No harm done, but... Why ask for two if you only need one? |
| "Since October 1, 2007, DHL can deliver your passport for you for a nominal fee" | This is true! For only $6 or so, DHL can get your passport closer to you*. But the girl behind the window disavowed knowledge of how it worked, even though I am certain that she does it every single day. Odd. |
| "Your passport will be ready in 10-12 days" | The window girl said 14-15 days, the DHL guys said 12 days. It isn't so critical to my life to know exactly when they say that it'll be ready as I assume it will be ready within 7-21 days and that's just that. But they might try to get their stories straight. |
| The most confusing: The website says that you can pay DHL to take your old passport back, where it will be canceled, then they will bring your new passport. (That's another couple dollars and would save someone like me many hours of driving or flying to get my passport) | I asked the window girl if I could just leave my passport... She was HORRIFIED. I may as well have asked her to eat a live snake. She went on and on about how the passport is a crucial identity document, should always be safe, never leave it anywhere, blah blah blah. "But...", I tried, "...wouldn't it be safer to leave it with the State Department than to send it to them via DHL in 10 days?" .... she was having none of that. NONE! of that. So I went to the DHL counter and he said: "Oh, just have her cancel the passport now, so you don't have to pay to send it back and wait an extra day." Eureka. It is all in the wording. "Cancel"is what I should have said, not "leave". So I go back to nice window girl: "Can you cancel this now so that I don't have to send it back?" to which she replies.... "Oh, you can just punch some holes in it, so that it can't be scanned." It remains to be seen if they are going to demand my old passport before sending my new one. I'm at about 50/50 on the odds. Time will tell. |
Along the way I accidentally pulled a serious Tico line-cutting move. If you have spent any time in Costa Rica, at some point a Tico has jumped the queue and pushed their way ahead of you. This can happen in the bank, or at a bar, or onto a bus, or a grocery store, almost anywhere. I 100% guarantee it has happened to you; unless you are sitting in the airport reading this. Even then, odds are pretty high that it happened getting off of the plane. As a visitor to this wonderful country, I usually just shrug it off and keep doing whatever I'm doing, but it does bug me. Well, yesterday I was the grand-cutter-of-long-lines. Maybe it was due to the unprecedented courtesy of the embassy security who kept letting me cut in other lines, or maybe it was subconscious expression of years of frustration, or maybe I was just tired and didn't notice. One thing is for sure: when I walked out of the thick glass "inner sanctum" door of the passport processing facility, and walked right up to the DHL desk and started talking to the DHL guy, I did so right in the face of about 45 people who were waiting in line, and would probably continue to wait in line for at least 1/2 hour before getting anything done. I did it without malice, but once I realized that I had cut off all of those people, I must confess that I did snicker a little bit (internally) at how, for the first time, I as on the winning end of such a bold move.
After my Embassy coup (getting in and out in less than 90 minutes really did seem a coup to me), I had to navigate across town to pick some stuff up for a friend. It sucked, but my momentary getting-lost-in-Heredia experience probably saved the friend many hours or many $$ in work, so I'm glad to have helped. Maybe I atoned for my line-cutting.
From there I worked my way back across town to do some shopping and to find some roofing sealant stuff. I won't go into all the details, but this roofing stuff shouldn't be my job in the first place. The rat-bastard son of a motherless goat designer who built Oro del Sol did a poor job of designing the walls. There are leaks. He is legally required to fix them, but hasn't done so, despite many many appeals from us. At one point the guy actually had the gall to tell me that it would cost me more to sue him than to just fix the leak. He was right, so I'm fixing the leak but spewing venom at every opportunity. He did give us $55 worth of material to fix it ourselves, which covered about 1/2 the problm, but kept giving me "mañana" on getting me the rest of the material. Anyway, he is a bad person based on my business dealings with him and I'll take a moment to assure everyone that the odds of me selling/buying another Patrick Rey home are very nearly zero. Unless the current owner has been there long enough to have fixed the problems that he left behind. Rant over.
I've been searching high and low for this Alucapa stuff from Venezuela. Apparently there is one place that sells it in Costa Rica. ONE. I finally found them and the guy was super-nice. Nice enough to help guide me through the industrial area in which they are located, by cellphone, to get me to the store just before closing. Upon arriving I was dismayed to find out that they are all out of Alucapa. Won't get more till around June. Arrrrgh!! Frustration! But I hung around, mostly because I was so frustrated I didn't want to drive and kill someone, and we chatted. After a spell, I discovered that they did have some end-cuts in a pile. Pretty big end-cuts. Big enough, in fact, that when we put a bunch together it was actually more than a full roll. Whoo-hoo! I asked if I could buy the cuts, the friendly guy disappeared into the office for a minute, then returned and said, "Just take it". Now, I know I only "scored" $55 worth of free material. But compared to getting nothing, or re-inventing the wheel, or waiting until June (well into the rainy season), I was elated.
As if that wasn't enough, I asked for directions to get to where I was going next, in order to miss the rapidly accumulating huge traffic jam, and the nice fellow offered to lead me all the way across town, through rush hour traffic, as he was sorta going in the same direction anyway. He probably added 1/2 hour to his evening commute, but saved me at least an hour. What a nice guy! If you need roofing products in San Jose, check out Cindu, in La Uruca, in front of Loza.
I did my last errand, a quick trip to the Costa Rica ARB distributor, to pick up 2 orings that defy Costa Rican postal transit (two tries, no success to date). The proprietor there is a great guy and I wish I had more time to chew the fat with him, but it was getting dark and I wanted to get home.
So at 6pm, after a very long day, I set out on a long drive back to Tamarindo. I did stop along the road and ate a GREAT dinner (whole fried corvina, yucca, salad, lemonade, hot coffee... all for about $7) which took nearly an hour. I also had to stop a few more times to stretch and walk around a bit as I was feeling drowsy. I got in the door at 11:09pm, exhausted.
Whew.
*Note on DHL: "'closer to you", in this case, means that DHL can only deliver your passport to the "nearest DHL office", which actually means "nearest DHL distribution center", which, for me, means Liberia. That's about an hour from my house, but much better than driving back to San Jose for it. Still.... if they can take it to their office, why can't they take it to my office? Isn't that what DHL does? Deliver stuff?
Labels: Costa Rica, land cruiser, passport, photo, repair, travel
Monkey Monkey
When the "aunt" tried to hand the baby over to the female that we think is the mother, "mom" scurried away and went back to sleep, covering her bosom. Her actions left us wondering what could be going on.
Labels: Costa Rica, dog, garden, monkey, photo, tamarindo
Sunday Marbella Beach Day
For many days now Jocelyn has wanted a day trip to Marbella Beach. Playa Frijolar, to be more precise, named for the gravelly beach that looks like a pile of beans in some spots. An apt name.
I've been reluctant because I've spent a lot of time on the road recently and didn't particularly want to be in the car on a Sunday unless we were going somewhere new and thrilling, or particularly difficult to reach which involves a reasonably high chance of getting stuck.
Regardless, her feminine wiles overcame my masculine stubborn-ness and so to Marbella we went!
The key to the story is the simplicity. We drove south for a while (40 minutes or so). Stopped to snap some photos of my favorite windmill (which I never photograph despite tremendous being tremendously photogenic). Then proceeded to a beautiful beach with very few other people. We bathed. We snacked. We enjoyed a cold beer. We strolled. We read. We harvested some driftwood.
The breeze was onshore and cooling, the water crystalline.
We drove home mellow and sunkissed, stopping for another photo or two.
Turns out that Jocelyn was right, it was a great way to spend a Sunday.
I've been reluctant because I've spent a lot of time on the road recently and didn't particularly want to be in the car on a Sunday unless we were going somewhere new and thrilling, or particularly difficult to reach which involves a reasonably high chance of getting stuck.
Regardless, her feminine wiles overcame my masculine stubborn-ness and so to Marbella we went!The key to the story is the simplicity. We drove south for a while (40 minutes or so). Stopped to snap some photos of my favorite windmill (which I never photograph despite tremendous being tremendously photogenic). Then proceeded to a beautiful beach with very few other people. We bathed. We snacked. We enjoyed a cold beer. We strolled. We read. We harvested some driftwood.
Turns out that Jocelyn was right, it was a great way to spend a Sunday.
 |  |  |  |
| Better-than-typical gravel road, Guanacaste | Beach, Wife, Dog. Happines | Goats!! We always yell "Goats!" when we see them, for some reason. | The roads are already dry and dusty, I predict a dry summer. |
Labels: beach, Costa Rica, day trip, dog, photo, weather
Wind!
Sure is windy around these parts right now.
The beach was spectacular this morning-- wind swept, perfectly clean and neat, hardly a footprint to be seen. At low tide we stood with our feet in the cold (for us) water and felt the sting of the sand on our back while playing with a deliriously happy dog. Funny how sometimes a beach trip will make her happy, but other days it makes her HAPPY. I suppose that we all do the same sort of thing, at some point.
I was frustrated to see people watering the street this morning. For those of you who don't live in dusty 3rd world countries, around these parts some folks waste a bunch of (evermore precious) water by spraying it onto the gravel/dust road in front of their home or business. The thought process appears to be that by wetting the ground, one reduces the dust created by cars driving by. I'm sure it works. Absolutely certain. For the first hour or so, I'll bet that almost no dust is created in the area thus wetted.
But most folks only wet the area right in front of "their" space. So dust is still kicking up from either side of the moist patch. And it is WIIIINDY right now, like up to 50mph gusts. The wind is kickind up dust from all over the province and moving it kilometers in various directions. How much does 10 meters of road matter? Finally- the same wind and the tropical sun dry out the moist patch within an hour...
I suggest that these same folks would get a lot more relief by planting a hedge or some trees in their area and watering those instead of the street. It would lend some shade and knock down the wind a little, as well as providing a host of other aesthetic and environmental benefits.
Some day, when I'm supreme ruler of of everything, this watering the road business is going to stop, dangit.
Till then, I'll just try to enjoy the wind storm for its howling fury and hope that nothing big falls on anything expensive around here.
The beach was spectacular this morning-- wind swept, perfectly clean and neat, hardly a footprint to be seen. At low tide we stood with our feet in the cold (for us) water and felt the sting of the sand on our back while playing with a deliriously happy dog. Funny how sometimes a beach trip will make her happy, but other days it makes her HAPPY. I suppose that we all do the same sort of thing, at some point.
I was frustrated to see people watering the street this morning. For those of you who don't live in dusty 3rd world countries, around these parts some folks waste a bunch of (evermore precious) water by spraying it onto the gravel/dust road in front of their home or business. The thought process appears to be that by wetting the ground, one reduces the dust created by cars driving by. I'm sure it works. Absolutely certain. For the first hour or so, I'll bet that almost no dust is created in the area thus wetted.
But most folks only wet the area right in front of "their" space. So dust is still kicking up from either side of the moist patch. And it is WIIIINDY right now, like up to 50mph gusts. The wind is kickind up dust from all over the province and moving it kilometers in various directions. How much does 10 meters of road matter? Finally- the same wind and the tropical sun dry out the moist patch within an hour...
I suggest that these same folks would get a lot more relief by planting a hedge or some trees in their area and watering those instead of the street. It would lend some shade and knock down the wind a little, as well as providing a host of other aesthetic and environmental benefits.
Some day, when I'm supreme ruler of of everything, this watering the road business is going to stop, dangit.
Till then, I'll just try to enjoy the wind storm for its howling fury and hope that nothing big falls on anything expensive around here.
Labels: Costa Rica, tamarindo, weather
Nicolas' Great Adventure Continues
Nicolas Rapp is driving around the world but along the way he has had some minor mechanical setbacks. You can read more about it on his blog, but the short story is that a steering sector shaft broke, which led to a collision that led to to front axle mayhem.
When Nicolas finally rolled into Costa Rica after a delay in Honduras and another in Nicaragua, it couldn't have come as much of a surprise that he was bound for yet another delay. When I offered him a place to spend a night or two, I thought that we might fix some minor detail on the truck, enjoy a few beers, and wave goodbye after, um, a night or two. But the Cruiser gods had something else in mind.
The last post I wrote has some more pics and info about finding a broken side gear in the differential. For those of you not mechanically inclined, a broken gear in the front differential can safely be considered a major repair. Not quite catastrophic, but very bad. So it was incredible good luck that he ended up here, and that I noticed the problem, and that we could tear into it.
Even more incredibly lucky, on the order of "I really can't believe it" lucky, is that Toyota Costa Rica had a new differential gear set in stock. It was even about 25% less expensive than the same part in the USA, which was a nice touch to the "Holy Moly we have been lucky on this job!" situation. So we ordered the part and some other minor spares, and they came a mere 24 hours later. In the mean time, I determined that setting up the differential was a little beyond my expertise level for a vehicle that will soon find itself in the wilds of Africa. Our great luck continued when we found a qualified mechanic who could put the diff back together for us in "1 day". Not too surprisingly for Costa Rica, "1 day" took a little longer than 36 hours. Still well within the realm of giddiness-inducing great luck.
While we were waiting on various parts to arrive and mechanics to perform, we also took a look at what Nicolas thought was a potential overheating problem. As it turned out, it is merely a fairly normal phenomenon for this model-year gas-powered Cruiser. The front DS fender gets hot when you drive them in hot weather. Who knew? But just to be on the safe side, we did change out his thermostat/gasket and get a new radiator cap. We also bought and installed a temperature gauge so that he has something more than just the stock gauge for helping determine if he is running hotter than he should be. In the short period that he was here after the gauge install, it seems that he maintains temps between 195 and 210, which is perfectly normal operating temperature for his motor. More good news!
We sent Nicolas and Nadia off with a quick trip to a beautiful local beach and vague directions towards Arenal. The beach gave us a good location to test out his newly repaired differential lockers (they work!) and also a nice primer on how to drive in sand.
All said, their visit was closer to eight days than two or three, but they were wonderful guests and we certainly can't blame them that the Cruiser needed a little more mechanical work than anyone had anticipated. I would be happy to host them again any time, though I must admit that we are looking forward to getting our daily schedule back towards a more normal state of affairs. I should point out-- Nicolas did an amazing job of supplying us with Nicaraguan beer and Rum. I'm sure we put a serious dent into what must have been his libations stash. Nadia was 100% smiles and a dish-washing-dervish, which is always welcome in our perpetually just-shy-of-clean kitchen.
As an extra bonus, now when I follow Nicolas' website around the world, I'll get the added happy feeling of knowing the author and knowing that I was able to give back a little of the generosity that I have been fortunate to receive in the past. I only wish that we could have spent a little more time driving around this beautiful area instead of wrenching on his truck. Oh,well... next time.
When Nicolas finally rolled into Costa Rica after a delay in Honduras and another in Nicaragua, it couldn't have come as much of a surprise that he was bound for yet another delay. When I offered him a place to spend a night or two, I thought that we might fix some minor detail on the truck, enjoy a few beers, and wave goodbye after, um, a night or two. But the Cruiser gods had something else in mind.
Even more incredibly lucky, on the order of "I really can't believe it" lucky, is that Toyota Costa Rica had a new differential gear set in stock. It was even about 25% less expensive than the same part in the USA, which was a nice touch to the "Holy Moly we have been lucky on this job!" situation. So we ordered the part and some other minor spares, and they came a mere 24 hours later. In the mean time, I determined that setting up the differential was a little beyond my expertise level for a vehicle that will soon find itself in the wilds of Africa. Our great luck continued when we found a qualified mechanic who could put the diff back together for us in "1 day". Not too surprisingly for Costa Rica, "1 day" took a little longer than 36 hours. Still well within the realm of giddiness-inducing great luck.
While we were waiting on various parts to arrive and mechanics to perform, we also took a look at what Nicolas thought was a potential overheating problem. As it turned out, it is merely a fairly normal phenomenon for this model-year gas-powered Cruiser. The front DS fender gets hot when you drive them in hot weather. Who knew? But just to be on the safe side, we did change out his thermostat/gasket and get a new radiator cap. We also bought and installed a temperature gauge so that he has something more than just the stock gauge for helping determine if he is running hotter than he should be. In the short period that he was here after the gauge install, it seems that he maintains temps between 195 and 210, which is perfectly normal operating temperature for his motor. More good news!
All said, their visit was closer to eight days than two or three, but they were wonderful guests and we certainly can't blame them that the Cruiser needed a little more mechanical work than anyone had anticipated. I would be happy to host them again any time, though I must admit that we are looking forward to getting our daily schedule back towards a more normal state of affairs. I should point out-- Nicolas did an amazing job of supplying us with Nicaraguan beer and Rum. I'm sure we put a serious dent into what must have been his libations stash. Nadia was 100% smiles and a dish-washing-dervish, which is always welcome in our perpetually just-shy-of-clean kitchen.
Labels: 4wd, 4x4, Costa Rica, expedition, land cruiser, photo, repair, travel
Front Diff Woes
Short version: Young man starts out on round the world journey in Land Cruiser. Steering part snaps. Cruiser hits mountain in Honduras. Damage ensues. Young man fixes most damage in Honduras and Nicaragua. Arrives Costa Rica where I help him find more damage. We are fixing it now and he hopes to be back on the road, soon. You can read about his journey on Transworld Expedition Blog
The part on the right of the picture is half of a side gear for the front differential. It should be connected to the other half of itself but has sheared (shorn?) off. In a nutshell, the diff is pooched and we are sourcing another. The part number at Toyota for a gear set that includes 2 side gears and 4 pinion gears is 41039-34060. Toyota charges nearly $400 for the set. The carnage wasn't very spectacular, but you can see (below) that the section that broke is a pretty thick bit of steel. Must have been some impact.
Labels: 4wd, 4x4, Costa Rica, land cruiser, repair, travel
Early beach day in Langosta. Great start to the year.
We awoke early on the first of January... about 5:30, but after listening to fireworks, barking dogs, drunken revelry, and various other noises, 5:30 seemed very early.
We grabbed coffee, dog, and the camera and headed to Langosta Beach to welcome the first sunrise of 2010. We were lucky enough to watch the full moon disappear into the Pacific at about the same time, it was beautiful.
Steve caught what was almost certainly the first wave of the year in Langosta (and Sapo, too). Unless someone was full-moon surfing, that is. Which would have been a pretty cool idea, but probably not such a safe thing to do in Langy. The surf was decent and Steve enjoyed it. While he was doing that, Bb and the dog were doing yoga (and doga?) and playing with sticks and plastic bottles on a nearly-empty beach. It was an idyllic way to start the year.
After a nap, Bb had to do some jewelry work while Steve went next door to enjoy a rum and gingerale with the neighbors. Ginger beer would have been even better, but you gotta do what you can with what you've got, sometimes. It was a hot day- over 100 in the sun, but sitting in a breezy (windy!) patio in the shade talking with friends was just about perfect.
We finished off the day with a bbq and a few more glasses of cheer, then came home to sleep soundly, looking forward to the weekend (also, a great way to start a new year!).
We grabbed coffee, dog, and the camera and headed to Langosta Beach to welcome the first sunrise of 2010. We were lucky enough to watch the full moon disappear into the Pacific at about the same time, it was beautiful.
Steve caught what was almost certainly the first wave of the year in Langosta (and Sapo, too). Unless someone was full-moon surfing, that is. Which would have been a pretty cool idea, but probably not such a safe thing to do in Langy. The surf was decent and Steve enjoyed it. While he was doing that, Bb and the dog were doing yoga (and doga?) and playing with sticks and plastic bottles on a nearly-empty beach. It was an idyllic way to start the year.
After a nap, Bb had to do some jewelry work while Steve went next door to enjoy a rum and gingerale with the neighbors. Ginger beer would have been even better, but you gotta do what you can with what you've got, sometimes. It was a hot day- over 100 in the sun, but sitting in a breezy (windy!) patio in the shade talking with friends was just about perfect.
We finished off the day with a bbq and a few more glasses of cheer, then came home to sleep soundly, looking forward to the weekend (also, a great way to start a new year!).
Labels: 4wd, 4x4, beach, Costa Rica, dog, photo, tamarindo, weather
A Three Hour Tour...
Finally got my roof rack re-installed yesterday, took much longer than it should have to prep it, and also too long to just plain get it installed. Sharp drill bits work much better than dull drill bits. Drilling 1/4" steel is time consuming, even with sharp bits, especially when you mis-measure 6 of 12 holes and have to redo them. Jocelyn was a super star, lifting sun-heated metal overhead on a hot day is unpleasant work but she helped immensely, taking the rack back off, then re-drilling, then putting back on was a drag.
With the rack finally in place, we figured "hey, lets take a spin over to the hill behind the estuary to snap a photo and enjoy an afternoon beverage". The hill is only about a mile away, nice n easy, no worries.
As this is the very beginning of the dry season, there are many wildflowers on the roadside, choking the roadway... no worries, just stay in the middle and drive on up. Sure, the road has a few little ruts, 4wd, onward and upward... we jog this road all the time, nothing to see here.
Um...
Why did we suddenly shift 2 feet to the right and are now sitting at 45 degrees with two wheels spinning in the air? This isn't the way it is supposed to work.
I tried reversing out, you never know, right? But didn't even have enough traction to notice a change. Ok. So be it. I jumped (literally) down out of the driver's seat and finally convinced Jocelyn to climb over and jump out too. She was (not without some reason) worried that climbing around might upset the balance of the truck and topple it. I *said* it was impossible, but truth is that I was wondering how much further the truck could tip without flopping. At least it fell into the ditch on the uphill part of the road. I guess that's good. Still, I preferred it didn't flop all the way onto its side. That would complicate the extraction.For sure it was good that we were less than a mile from home. We trotted back and borrowed a neighbor's 4Runner, grabbed my hilift out of the garage, and a 5ftx8" log that was in the garage as well.
To minimize potential damage to the 4Runner's IFS front end, I reversed up to where we were stuck. That alone would have been nearly impossible without Jocelyn's very able spotting.
Remember, I was in 4wd on the lifted Cruiser on 33's to get to where we were stuck, driving up in reverse in a stock 4runner on 31s was.... slow. Of course I was also hyper-aware of not getting near the sides of the road (and potential invisible ditches).
Got to the Cruiser and wedged the log under the rear tire to act as a ramp out of the ditch. Hooked up the strap (factory tow points on the 4runner could be improved) and Jocelyn jumped behind the wheel. I clambored up into the Cruiser thinking, "Ok, this'll be over quickly."She starts driving down hill, in low, reaches the end of the strap, I'm ready for the jolt....
Nothing. Just spinning tires on the 4Runner. Not even so much as a shudder on the Cruiser. Not so good. "Ok, back it up, try it again, give it a little gusto!" She hits the end of the strap going .... 5mph? ... Nothing. I can barely feel the Cruiser move when she hits the end. No chance that we are pulling it out this way. We did try two or three more times, but didn't want to hit it hard because the front fender was resting on the bank and I didn't want to leave it there.
Jocelyn (wisely) suggested that we dig out the bank a little bit, so I broke out the shovel and the Max-Ax (with shovel) and started digging. Side note: the Max is super-versatile, but like most "does everything" tools, it is not the ideal solution for any given job, in this case, digging. It is very heavy and the ax head is unwieldy. But it sure beats using branches or bare hands.
We dug for a while, and realized the extent of how badly stuck the truck really was. It was pretty bad. Front tire was in midair in a 4-5ft ditch, back tire was hitting dirt, but it was pretty crumbly dirt. Driver's front was on dirt, solidly, but I don't have lockers in front, so that didn't help us any, driver's rear was in the air. Great.
Eventually my approach evolved into digging out the sides of the ditches to basically fill the ditch, also digging out the dirt from under the driver's front tire, to lower that corner of the truck and level it out a little. As much as I could reach without crawling under the truck (no sense killing myself) I also dug out the dirt under the axles, further leveling the truck.
The real improvement was strapping the axle to the frame, dropping the hilift into the ditch, and lifting the front corner, to lift the front tire, to fill underneath it with stones and dirt.
I think that the hilift is both one of the best and scariest recovery tools made. I'm impressed as all get-out that you can lift a ton or three. That's amazing to me. Even more impressed that you can lower the same weight in a controlled way. Awesome machine.
But standing within a foot or two of a ton or two of Land Cruiser being held up by only a 1" x 2" perforated steel bar.... makes me nervous. Especially when weight is sitting just about near the end of the 60" hilift. I felt a little better for being uphill, I guess that meant that at least I wouldn't be crushed by a rolling vehicle after being impaled by steel from a failed jack. There's that. Gotta look on the bright side.
The jack held, I got some dirt and rock under the tire. No damage to me and no additional damage to the truck.
At some point while I was doing my excavation project, I managed to raise another friend on the phone. I told Jon that I was stuck and asked if he wouldn't mind stopping off at my house to grab Jocelyn (who had returned the 4Runner) and bringing his Discovery up to help me get out. Not only did he bring Jocelyn and the disco, he brought his gal and their 3 (4?) month old baby, Benno. It was like a pleasant Sunday picnic, only no delicious food, no wicker basket, and a very stuck Land Cruiser. I guess it wasn't much like a picnic at all.
The girls took a walk up the hill while I continued digging with Jon's help. I don't think I would have been able to keep going without someone pitching in, I was pretty beat already after two hours of hacking away at the rocky dirt in the 90 degree heat. Jon's enthusiasm was at least as welcome as his digging (which was very welcome).
I should take a brief moment to be thankful that we were in the shade, on a hillside with some breeze. It could have been much hotter. We also had (have) a can of Off! in the truck. Were it not for that, this would have been a much itchier story.
So as the darkness descended, and with an awful lot of dirt moved from under the truck into the ditch, Jocelyn made the executive decision to either pull the truck now or give up for the night and back the disco down the trail. See, we hadn't planned quite as well when driving the disco up, and while backing down the trail was going to be a hassle in the fading daylight, it was going to be borderline dangerous (ok, maybe not so borderline) to do it in the dark.
I did leave about 6" of fender flare on the ground, for which I'm a little bummed because going flare-less here isn't really an option due to the Revision Tecnica (road safety test). But one damaged flare is a small price to pay vs. a flopped Cruiser. The front bumper may have gotten some damage in the process. Hard to tell- my bumper is pretty trashed already. If it is further damaged, I may never know and certainly don't mind. I will be designing easy hi-lift attachment points into whatever bumper I build in the future. And whatever repair work is needed on the flare, I'll get it done when I eventually repair the marker light on the other side. Still brightsiding here- at least I hadn't just repaired/replaced the factory bumper right before busting it again. There's that.
The trail widened just enough to do an 8 point turn to get the truck pointed straight, then we drove down a little further to where Jon and I decided that he would be fine completing the road on his own (and I would have less dark and bumpy uphill to jog back to my own truck).
I borrowed his light (again, must remember to put a few in my truck, bad planning on my behalf) and started jogging uphill again. For about the first time I realized that 36 really isn't 26. I couldn't jog. I wanted to jog. My mind was jogging. My arms were swinging in a jogging-like style. My legs, on the other hand, were walking. I know I'm no shining example of physical fitness, but usually that just means feeling more sore in the morning, not "unable to continue at my desired pace". It was humbling. But walking up didn't take that much longer and while I was walking Jocelyn had stowed all the recovery gear and generally prepped the cruiser for our return. So I handed over the light, she spotted me down (much less conservatively than Jon had, which was also fine) to where we could turn around, and then we headed off down the hill.
Defeated, but triumphant. Somehow.
Jon and Philine (and Benno) were waiting for us at the bottom with two cold beers. That sure tasted good! We thanked them profusely and inadequately for their help, then returned home for a much needed hot shower then headed over to our neighbor's house for a delicious bbq and some more liquid therapy.
All in all, not the quick jaunt that we expected, but it was a pretty fun day anyway and we impressed ourselves at how well we work together in a situation like this. I'm very grateful to Camilla for loaning us the 4Runner, and to Jon and Philine who spent their Sunday afternoon helping us out. Of course I'm also very impressed by my lovely wife, as I don't think that most wives would have come back to help dig more and spot and generally participate in the extraction.
Oh, and the roof rack performed flawlessly, but I still don't have a decent picture of it.
Labels: 4wd, 4x4, Costa Rica, day trip, food, land cruiser, photo, tamarindo
Grande, Tree
Just ran out to visit some friends in Playa Grande, and to do a little business (very rare that both of our businesses take us to a single location, serendipity, I tell ya). It was just plain lovely out there and we enjoyed a little hospitality at RipJack Inn. Incidentally- you can now find Jocelyn Broyles Jewelry at RipJack.
I mean, where else do you get a chance to see a guy gallop by on a horse while dialing his cellphone? Just gotta love it! :)
Labels: 4wd, 4x4, Costa Rica, jewelry, land cruiser, photo, weather
New Bushings
Got the new bushings installed on Tuesday. That was an experience in and of itself. Faithful followers of the Sandcruiser story (at least those with excellent memories) might remember many moons ago Soop, Teddy and I took Teddy's van to Santa Cruz to get his springs re-arched. That involved much sweat, a lot of patience, some chicken sandwiches, some inappropriate welding, and ended in three people sharing 1 bathroom for a long night of intense bowel distress. Ahhh, the memories. If you don't remember the story (and we won't fault you) you can re-live it here in an excerpt from Soop's excellent journal.
But I digress.
So I went back to the very same spring shop in Santa Cruz because I knew that they have a hydraulic press. A press is really awfully handy for getting 2" diameter bushings out of steel control arms. The other way involved all manner of burning, hacksawing, probably ruining a finger or two and almost certainly doing a half-assed job in the end. I opted for the press.
What I had not fully recalled was the squallor that characterized the press shop. Wow. I watched as two "professionals" spent the better part of on hour pressing out the old bushings and installing new. They found the right combination of random bits of what looked like old oil pipe to act as punches and supports for the bushings. Then put them down in the midst of the mess and had to re-invent the wheel for the next bushing. They did this four times. As they finished installing number three, I suggested "hey, maybe you should keep those pieces handy- you know, for installing number four?" They looked at me like I had just escaped the insane asylum and was drooling on my shirt while begging for candy or perhaps dried toads. Why on earth would we keep the parts when we are going to use them again in 10 minutes? Crazy Gringo.
It would be pointless to wonder about why they didn't just press out all four, then install all four, so as not to have to change any of the bits and parts. I imagine it would be easier to simply build my own press from scraps than to convince them to change their ways.
It is a little tough to complain too bitterly... while the project could have taken 1 hour instead of 3.5, it did only cost me $40 to have them remove/replace the arms and press out then press in four bushings.
And this time I didn't have the chicken, which was the best decision of all.
Labels: Costa Rica, land cruiser, repair
Thanks Rain!
Thanks Rain!
I am happy to have a second day in a row with rain. I'm sure that I'll be biting my tongue in another month when the cats and dogs are falling, but I heard yesterday that this area is suffering the driest August/September in the last 70 (seventy!!) years. It has been awfully pleasant from a "spending time outdoors" perspective, but any extreme weather event has got to have some lasting repercussions on local wildlife. I know that our garden has been suffering, despite my half-hearted attempts to water -I just can't bring myself to water extensively in the "rainy" season and I haven't fixed our sprinklers yet- so I can only imagine what the effect has been on larger wild trees and plants and animals.
Unfortunately for me, the rain interrupted a little afternoon photo session. Ah well. Back inside to work."Coral Vine", Antigonum leptopus.
Growing nicely up the wall of the living room ---------------->
Labels: Costa Rica, garden, photo, tamarindo, weather
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