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.

Robert and I planned to spend three days in Shanghai before flying off to our respective destinations (me to the US, Robert to Kuala Lumpur and beyond).  My former colleague, biz contact, and friend Peter graciously offered up his apartment during our stay.  Getting the key was a little tricky, since his roommate had also decided to visit the US, but with the help of the aiyi’s (maid) phone number at the last minute (after we’d arrived in Shanghai), we were able to meet up and get the key.  OK, we were now set.

But, before we’d successfully rendezvoused to get the key, before we even had contact with Peter, we thought we’d go to a popular subway stop in the hopes of finding a Starbucks so that we could use their wireless internet connection and hopefully connect with Peter.  Well, we never found the Starbucks, but we did get our first glimpse at the new and very impressive sharp-chisel-touching-the-sky-of-a-building Shanghai World Financial Center, the second tallest in the world, though we didn’t know that was it at the time.  We had chosen “Century Plaza” (on the right side of this map) because it had numerous intersections.  But, it proved to be fruitless.  We boarded the subway and tried again.  Then Peter called.

Flash forward to us with the keys; now we had the freedom to go anywhere.  This was the second time I’d been to Shanghai, the first being with my parents and some friends of ours on an official tour the year before.  This time, I was completely in charge, and no Chinese local to help out.  However, it was quite easy; my Chinese has progressed enough to get by.  And, unlike Shenzhen, there is a good bit more English.  In fact, our first stop was “People’s Square”, a great place to begin the tour since it leads to Nanjing Street, a long pedestrian street filled with restaurants and shops.  As we were orienting ourselves and the map in People’s Square, we were approached by three Chinese tourists, or so they said, who struck up a quick conversation with us.  Eventually, they invited us to a “tea show” which we declined because we were starving.  We had finished packing around 1:30am the night before, were up at 5:00am to go by my office and pick up something I had forgotten and then took the same taxi out to the airport.  Anyway, we would see this same triumverate tomorrow in the same spot talking to different foreigners; I’ll let Robert finish the story to explain why.  It is quite a good story.

I was surprised at how aggressive the wandering salesmen were on Nanjing Road.  They were approaching the style of the “Merchants of LuoHu” (wow, one of my first posts).  I teased around with some of them.  Usually, this is OK, but some didn’t get the message.  One lady, selling strap on flashing roller skates almost wouldn’t take no for an answer; she cut her prices nearly six times before she finally gave up.  We spotted several restaurants and got Robert some overdue coffee, but eventually opted to move off the main drag for something a little more…traditional.

We found a delicious, cheap, filthy, delightful, hole-in-the-wall restaurant where we bought fried rice, a thing broth.  We also brought in sort of a fried dumpling filled with meat and milk tea to supplement the food.  It was a satisfying lunch.  We returned to this same area late another night for dinner.  We were the last in the restaurant, enjoying a fried rice dish with meat in a hot skillet.  I noticed that the owners were beginning to close up show.  Obviously, other residents of the restaurant expected this as well when a LARGE RAT began crawling down a black wire hanging behind Robert.  By the time I remembered the word for “rat” in Chinese and shouted to the owners, who seemed not to mind, he had descended and vanished somewhere along a crack in the wall.  Robert’s response was most memorable:  “Aweeeesome!  This is great!  Real China!”  I couldn’t agree more.

After our day trip to Suzhou, we returned to the Pudong area (that’s where are the really cool modern buildings are…oh yeah, and they’re putting in a super tall skyscraper which will dwarf the current highest tower by nearly 150 meters!) to have dinner in the Jin Mao Tower, in the Hyatt up on the 60th floor or so.  This was a huge departure from our two dollar rat meal from the day before, but we were in a mood to celebrate.  But first, we took a visit to the Shanghai World Financial Center for a commanding view of the city.  The building is so impressive.  Very modern on the inside and sleek on the outside.  Taking the elevator up was a treat too.  You could barely feel the acceleration and there was also a delightful light show on the ceiling to enjoy.  The top of the tower is surprisingly thin, and, in Feng Shui tradition (or at least as much as I understand it), the bridge at the top of the large gap in the the tower is a glass skybride and observatory.  As you can imagine, the views are great.

Later, we enjoyed a wonderful Italian dinner in the Jin Mao Tower Hyatt.  We were again the last party to leave as they were closing up.  Alex, a friend of Peter’s roommate (who later had given us an extra key so we could return the original one to the aiyi…) and a busy man in the world of business consulting, met up with us after work (!!) and helped finish off the wine.  We all then retired up to the club on the top floor to the “Cloud 9 Lounge” for more drinks.  Sitting so high up and looking out onto the city was an experience by itself.  It was just such a great moment to savor and enjoy:  a wonderful view, good drinks, and superb company.

Daryl and I had been talking a big talk about doing the Macau Tower Sky Jump, or even the Bungee Jump if we were up to it.  Robert was into the idea as well.  But, in the end, we were merely spectators.  I’d say part of this was out of fear, but the other, the main reason, was due to the cost.  The bungee jump is over $200 US!  That’s a serious hourly rate for a thrill that probably still can’t touch something like a climb up the Northeast Buttress of Slesse Mountain or the Northwest Ridge of Mount Sir Donald.  Concerned about our savings accounts (and, to be fair, Daryl had just completed the Macau Marathon), we decided to just kick back and watch: