Around two in the morning, the roosters began their singing routine right outside the window.  I got up and closed the window and fell back asleep, still sleeping well even though I was periodically woken up by them.  I had a leisurely morning since Jorge had arranged for me to meet a friend of his, Ines, in downtown San Jose around 11:30am.  At breakfast, I suddenly remembered how sweet and tasty the fruit in Costa Rica is, which started with manga (with an “a”, not an “o”, which is a larger variet of mango), papaya, watermelon, pineapple, and miniature bananas, all of which pack extra flavor down here in this tropical climate.  That was followed by scrambled eggs, toast, and tea.  Later in the morning, I toured all around the house, which I realized was larger than I thought; there were other family member’s houses all connected together loosely.  We also went into the back where I met the various chickens and roosters who enjoy making so much noise in the middle of the night.  There were also a couple of “terneros”, I think that’s the right word, which was basically described as a small bull.  In the back, just beyond the gate, is a small river, which is quite low right now because we’re just entering winter (more accurately called “the rainy season”).  Later, we toured through other parts of the property which even included a small furniture factory, a soon-to-be-completed new storefront, and several small gardens.  As always, I was impressed by all the large flowers and even learned the names of some of them, although now I can only recall a handful.

I left for downtown on the bus around 10:50 and had a conversation the entire way with a man who was also waiting at the bus stop with me.  At the final stop, in the middle of downtown San Jose, I waited for Ines, a freind of Jorge’s who had kindly offered to show me around the town in the afternoon.  While waiting, I bought some water from a Chinese woman who owned a small store nearby.  She didn’t seem so impressed that I was attempting to speak Chinese to her, maybe because all of a sudden, speaking Chinese became very difficult and I could barely muster the words to ask for the price of water.  Switching language skills, especially as a beginner, is tough.  About five minutes later, Ines showed up and we were off.

Ines was an excellent guide and tourist companion.  I won’t go into all the details of the various places we went, but at one point she asked if I preferred museums or natural scenery.  Of course, I replied natural scenery.  Even though I do prefer that, I also rationalize that I can enjoy the museums some years from now when I’m really old.  I enjoyed seeing the local markets, which did remind me a lot of China but with more touristy items and more approachable salespeople.  There were numerous “street food” eateries within the market which tempted me for lunch, but Ines wouldn’t hear of it since Jorge had relayed the information that I had asked for an antacid to calm a bit of heartburn the night before.  This is typical Jorge, managing the details to perfection.

After lunch, we went to Ines’s neighboorhood, Coronado, on one of the slopes of the hills surrounding San Jose.  Like all the other neighborhoods, really more like their own towns, the center consisted of a church and a small park facing opposite.  Except, this was the only church in Costa Rica that was in the Gothic style.  Inside, we met her mother, who was kneeling reading in one of the pews.

To take advantage of my request (really my expression of preference) of preferring the “naturaleza” to “los museos”, we drove up higher into the mountains to a place called “Cascajal de Coronodo”.  It was like driving into another world, tranquil and enveloped in misty clouds.  Apparently, this area is quite often covered in wispy clouds, the kind you find often in the Cascades, especially after rain.  The air was cool and invigorating. I enjoyed walking around immensely; this was my favorite part of the day.  Afterwards, we arrived at Ines’s house to meet her mother and Jorge, who had just gotten off work.  We enjoyed some coffee with “gallo de papa”, semi-spicy and tasty potatoes wrapped in a corn tortilla.

Jorge and I returned back to his house in Aserri, another small “suburb” of San Jose complete, of course, with a church and a small park.  Here, we decided to try some of the local Chinese food.  Yes, to my surprise, there are quite a number of Chinese run establishments here.  I quite often see the familiar characters when driving through the town.  Apparently, Costa Rica has made an effort in the past two years to develop relations with China.  I need to read more about this.  Anyway, these Chinese were quite taken aback when I greeted them with “Nimen hao”.  The whole family came out from the back and we chatted briefly.  Again, switching languages was difficult and it felt like I had forgotten half of what I had learned.  But, I was able to carry on a simple conversation.  Back at home, we enjoyed the Chinese food which nothing like the food in China, of course…especially with the french fries.

The excitement over being back in Costa Rica after twenty years did not hit me until I was outside the airport and met Jorge’s dad, Marco, and Hugo.  I didn’t know that Marco would be there to meet me, but I recognized him right away.  Hugo surprised me a bit, probably because he was bigger and taller.  But what else was I expecting?  This first day was a whirlwind of reuniting with many old friends.  Of all the great trips and experiences that I’ve had, that first month-long trip to Costa Rica still brings back some of the best memories.  That must have been because of the people, who make you feel so welcome.  I’d also forgotten how open, friendly, and giving that everyone was.  Not everything was joyous though as one of the dad’s that I was fond of had passed away the year before.

When I was in Costa Rica the first time, I stayed with Jorge and his family.  He has two siblings, one of which was Marco, who met me in the airport, and a sister named Maria Lydia.  To my delight, Jorge’s dad told me that they lived in the same house and after a nice lunch, we went to visit.  I met Jorge’s mom there, who still had quite a young face.  It seemed that many of the women fared this way, and the men seemed to age more rapidly.  Of course, I remembered the little room I stayed in, the small school across the street where the youngsters were still wearing the blue uniforms, but the coffee tree field directly across the street was replaced by some new houses.

Jorge’s dad took me for a ride around town.  There aren’t many memorable buildings there other than the church on the mail square which I didn’t remember all that clearly.  We also went to meet the Costa Rican teacher who had hosted us when we came to Costa Rica.  I recognized her immediately and she too had aged nicely.  I enjoyed staying in her house chatting with the two of them in the large room full of tables and chairs and Costa Rican decorations.

Later in the evening, Jorge showed up at his parents’ house to take me to his house in San Jose.  Aserri, to be precise, is the name of the small town on the hillside, just outside of San Jose.  There, I met his wife of four years and his nearly three year-old son.  We watched most of the Costa Rica vs. USA World Cup qualification match.  When the score was at 3-0 in favor of Costa Rica, and I could barely keep my eyes open, I bade everyone a cheerful good night and went to bed.