Birdie 911. . .

Two days ago at breakfast, a Red-Legged Honey Creeper flew into the rancho. There is one door and one window (sans screen) that are open at breakfast, and at this time of year, the birds are really everywhere.

A few times a week, they shoot into the kitchen of the rancho and it's always a chore (though entertaining) to get them back outside.

It fell to me the other day, and the poor bird was hitting the glass and screens on the other windows, but could not (after much encouragement--foul and fair--and chasing about) find its way out.

At last, after the female was gassed (the bright blues are the males and the greens are the females) it alit next to the microwave and I was able to snatch it up and take it outside.

The creepers are small, not much larger than hummingbirds, and I'm always a bit hesitant to pick them up, lest I hurt them. This little lady, though, was pretty tired out and didn't put up much resistance when I finally got my ham-handed fingers around her and escorted her outside.

Iron stomachs. . .

These are plantains (pictured). The look like bananas, but are a little larger, thicker and infinitely more indigestible than their cousins.

Basically, if you eat them raw, you're going to have jungle tummy for a couple of days.

They are very tasty when you bake them, fry them, pound them into chips and fry them (think Gump Shrimp). But do not eat them raw.

The other day, Lucy and I popped into one of the tree houses to change the towels after the folks had vamoosed, and found a bunch of plantains above the refrigerator and some were missing. The family, from Germany, were out hiking the volcano.

The next day at breakfast, Lucy told them that the plantains should not be eaten raw. The father, a very gregarious fellow, nearly fell off his bench laughing, saying that they had been eating them raw for the past two weeks (the German folks have a great vacation plan).

Patricia and Seidy, who were working that morning, about fell over laughing that anyone would eat a plantain raw. The family, though, was unfazed and will probably make that a part of their diet for their whole time here in Costa Rica.

These lovely critters. . .

Are making regular appearance at the rancho for breakfast in the mornings. They are a cousin to the toucan, but their beak isn't the same green/yellow that the toucan has. And the toucans don't slum it with us at breakfast.

Still, the Collared Arakari are very pretty birds and tend to travel in groups of four, five, six, seven or more.

We put out plantains (they're like bananas) daily before breakfast and get quite the spectrum of birds for folks to watch while they're enjoying their breakfast.

Many times, the Arakari will bite off, literally, more than it can chew and will flip the plantain back and forth in its beak until it dissolves into a manageable bite.

A holiday tail. . .

T'was days before Christmas and Mark was making his rounds;

Checking the tree houses and the surrounding grounds.

He walked up to one, to see if all was cool;

Alas, it was not and he babbled like a fool;

For it was a snake, a serpent curled up nice and tight;

If possible, it made Mark even more pasty white.

Not all was lost, as Mark found a stick;

And dispatched of the critter with nary a flick.

As it slithered off into the jungle with its fangs hanging out;

Mark was heard to say he has confined himself to bed for the next year with gout.

Was the serpent bad, was it good or was Mark taking his chances?

No one knows, but Mark and his pants-es

Ho-Ho-Hotel greetings. . .

To everyone near and far, a very happy Christmas and a merry New Year! (Forgive the delay, I'm lazy and Sunday was the holiday after all).

For the three of you that read this blog regularly, thank you for coming down in 2011 and for the others that have not made it down this way: make it a resolution and head on down here in 2012.

We're planning on being here and would love to see one and all get down this way.

Santa does make it to Costa Rica, though he usually on an ATV, rather than a sled.

Head scratchers. . .

As more and more folks ask about coming to Tree Houses, we get a continual stream of questions that are always entertaining, as well as sometimes befuddling.

Q: We want to go to the Monteverde Cloud Forest. Can we drive there from the Tree Houses?

A: Of course. It's about a 4- to 5-hour drive, as you must go around the Arenal Volcano and Lake Arenal to get there. It's not a day trip, but rather a place to go if you want to spend a day or two up there.

Response: So, we can drive ourselves in an hour?

Q: We want to go ziplining while in Costa Rica. What is the weight limit?

A: For most of the ziplines, the weight limit is 280 pounds.

Response: My brother/husband/nephew is 350 pounds, is that too much?

Q: How do we change money in Costa Rica?

A: U.S. dollars are just fine in Costa Rica, save yourself the commission and fees if you're coming from the States.

Response upon checking in at Tree Houses: Where do we change money?

The least-est, worst-est job of all. . .

Is when it's time to re-do the septic drain lines.

In the country out here, everyone is on the septic system, which works reasonably well. In the cities, they have sewers, just like back in the States.

However, when you have families coming into a tree house and the children bring little toys that are prone to being lost down a drain, that's where the real problem arises.

It will block up the tank and cause a backflow that is not the best odor by any stretch. "Sopa la septico" is the phrase that we've coined here, and it's not good at all.

Luckily, the crack team of Miguel Gerardo and myself can go in, dig up the mess, repair the damage and have everything smelling rosy in a matter of hours. The actual work itself can bring tears to some folks' eyes--fortunately, not the guests.

After being here for coming on three years, our olfactory senses are attuned to the smell of a bum tank, and we're able to get on it the same day, or the next if it's too late.

'Tis the season II

When we have a lot of families coming down for the Christmas holidays. . . It brings a lot of families and a lot of questions.

Some of our favorites:

Q: Where is the jacuzzi in the tree house?

A: The second tree to the left, near the wasp nest.

Q: Where do you keep the sloths and the monkeys?

A: Right next to the jacuzzi, in the towel cupboard.

Q: We want to go to the free and all-natural hot springs and have the "real" experience.

A: Technically, the free hot springs (a runoff of what they drain out of their pools) are on the property of a larger resort that now has security guards that run folks off. Additionally, said large resort was fined heavily for dumping sewage down said "free" hot springs. Towels optional, tetanus shot required.

'Tis the season. . .

For merriment and good will to all. . . and for tamales! This is the time of year when folks bake tamales and give them to friends, family, etc., for the holiday season.

Lucy, Patricia, Darling and Seidy cooked up about 150 tamales a while ago, so everyone could have some.

It's a very doughy dish, with meat, vegetables, salsa all wrapped up in a banana leaf and then steamed to perfection.

The dough is extremely dense and most folks buy the dough from a couple of outlets in Ciudad Quesada, as it's not all that easy to make from scratch. It is a process to get everything tucked into there and wrapped up, but the result is worth the effort (so says someone who has only eaten them).

It's Chewy. . .

Or Chuy, depending on how you want to interpret the name.

We have decided to keep the little ankle-biter that washed up here at Tree Houses a few weeks ago.

(This is not an actual picture as we don't have one yet, but this is pretty close to what she looks like).

Chewy--I'm spelling it that way for Chewbacca of Star Wars fame; Lucy is going with Chuy, for Chelsea Handler's "Little Nugget."

She does like to chew and particularly on shoelaces, pant legs, fingers, toes, etc. Unfortunately, that also applies to cane toads, which emit a toxin that will kill dogs. Hence, we've had to keep an eye on her when the toads are out and about.

She's pitbull/black lab and the vet pegs her age at 3 months. She already weighs more than Mini-B and delights in terrorizing Bejuca and Mini-B with yaps and little growls.

She should grow up to be around 50 pounds or so and will make a nice addition to the brood.

Sometimes, you're just never going to win. . .

We recently had a couple that had been to Tree Houses four years ago (before we started working here). Very nice and happy to be back. They had stayed in the Frog tree house the time before, and asked if they could try another tree house, to experience a different style.

No problem, when we did the tree house assignments, we juggled some other folks around to get the couple into the Toucan tree house, which we typically put honeymooners into.

When they checked in, they were all happy about getting to be in a different tree house. In fact, that was one of their first questions when they arrived; if they were going to be in a different one.

About an hour later, Lucy was walking the pooches up the trail when she ran into the folks.

"How's your tree house?" Lucy asked.

"Can we have a different one, this is small," was the reply.

By that time, there was no chance to move them. They weren't upset or anything, so that was nice.

Ironically, it would have saved us some time and head-scratching if we had put them in the Frog to start with when we did the assignments earlier.

Marathon results. . .

Everyone can check out the full results at: www.honolulumarathon.org

For the others, here are the results of our friends who ran the marathon:

Bruce Mullikin

Honolulu

HI

USA

1672

0 8:50:35

0 8:49:47

David Fitzpatrick

Honolulu

HI

USA

433

0 3:44:10

0 3:43:31

The first time is the gun time, while the second time is the chip time, which is the official time used for the results.

Some of our other friends didn't run this year for various reasons, but hopefully they'll be back running next year.

Happy Honolulu Marathon Day!

We break from tradition (and general laziness) to post on a Sunday.

Today is the Honolulu Marathon, held on the second Sunday of December. This is where Lucy and I met, training for the marathon, and we ran several of the races while we were living in the Islands.

We will be watching our friends rip through the course tomorrow and will monitor and perhaps post their times here for the three of you that are interested.

Sad news. . .

Last week, when Gerardo was coming to work, he stumbled upon a sad sight. He and Miguel typically enter from the outside gate and come up the back trail.

Gerardo saw a dead sloth on the trail. From what we were able to figure out and piece together, the sloth must have been crossing the road when it was hit by a car, as it was missing a front leg.

Sloths on the ground are even slower than they are in the trees. Their claws are so long, they pretty much just drag themselves, using their elbows and knees as a way to get around down on terra firma.

Dodging a snake. . .

The other day, when Lucy returned home after running some errands, she threw open the door and tossed Mini-B and the new pooch (still nameless) into the house and told me to come outside.

Curled in a tight little ball was a fer-de-lance. It was probably about 6 to 8 inches long. We've seen them before and we will see them again, unfortunately.

This little critter, though, was curled up right in front of the bathroom on the outside of our house. That means that anyone who wanted to enter the bathroom, had to walk right over (or perhaps on?) the venomous bugger.

Being the great chicken when it comes to snakes, I just looked and waited to see if it would do anything. We called Gerardo over and he thought we were joking at first, then he saw the snake and wasn't quite as jovial. He did take care of it, getting it to wrap around a stick (he also had a machete just in case) and carried it off deep into the jungle to let it wander out and about on its own.

Happy Birthday!

To little brother Matt Eidson, who turns 42 today (yes, I had to use a calculator to count that high).

(Written by his mom, Pat and edited heavily by his big brother).

Being the youngest of the two Eidson boys, Matt benefited greatly from the wisdom and guidance of his older brother, Mark. Now that Matt is up there in years like Mark (though Mark doesn't show nearly half the signs of aging that Matt does) we deeply appreciate all the insight that Matt has gleaned from his older and more handsome brother.

Happy Birthday!

Another one. . .

We came back from our vacation to find that there was a new pooch added to the mix while we were gone.

A family staying here rescued a pup that was wandering in the middle of the road. They didn't want to take it back to the States, so we now have another little one.

However, it won't stay little for long. We don't have a name for it yet (we're still trying to adopt her out and don't want to get too attached) though she is really cute and very smart.

She's a pit-bull/lab mix and should get to be about 50 pounds or so.

So, if anyone out there is looking for a very smart jungle pooch, just let us know!

Friends in Costa Rica. . .

Here we are with Mike and Mona, our friends

now living in the Chicago area. This is at Bella Verona, where we had another outstanding meal.

Mike and Mona are true world travelers, having been to more places in the past few years than we have in the past 10.

It was great to have them down this way (they also visited us in Hawaii) and we're looking forward to meeting up with them again in the future; though if the pattern holds, it will be someplace warm!

Placing the order. . .

Here is everyone trying to figure out what they want to order. There is a huge variety on the menus and, of course, seafood is a specialty throughout the city.

Luckily, there are menus in English, Spanish, German and French as well as Italian and everyone was happy with the food.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Since this is a day of eating a lot and giving thanks, here is a picture of Mom and Dad Eidson chowing down in Venice.

This is from one of the numerous sidewalk cafes that are along the main drags of Venice. This is from our first meal with everyone (Mom, Dad, Mark, Kiyomi and us) where we had a great lunch.

My dad's calzone (basically a stuffed pizza) was so large, that a German couple came over to our table to ask if they could also take a picture.

The pizza in the forefront is all mine.

Again, thanks to the Tokyo Bureau for providing the picture.

Strolling along. . .

Here we are, heading back to the apartment in Venice. Lucy is on the left, Mark (Tokyo) in the middle and me on the right.

Kiyomi, Mark's wife, snapped the picture as we were winding our way through the side streets and alleys of Venice en route to the place.

For those who have not been, Venice is an amazing city, though it is very, very easy to get lost in. You can take one turn and end up in an entirely different part of the city that you had intended. That is part of the fun.

Thanks to the Tokyo branch for the pictures.

Back in the jungle. . .

We have returned. Actually, we returned a week ago, but between jetlag, colds and incoming guests, we have laid low in the blogging world for a while.

We had a great time in Venice with Ma and Pa Eidson and Mark and Kiyomi from Tokyo. We explored the city, rode the gondolas, water taxis and vaporetto (basically on the water). We ate some amazing food and checked out Verona while we were at it.

The Art Department has some really great shots that will hopefully be showing up here soon.

We're getting ready to ramp up to another busy season with plenty of guests, so it will be interesting.

Adios, arriverdicci, etc. . .

We are out of here again. . . We're going to meet Mom and Pop Eidson for a bit of a break, as well as some great friends from Tokyo, Mark and Kiyomi.

Where are we off to? There's a clue in the picture here.

No one is taking a laptop, so our Internet and e-mail connections will likely be limited by access and a desire on our part to just relax and lay low.

We will be back around the middle of November and will hopefully be posting before Thanksgiving.

Down it comes. . .

For those of the green persuasion, you may not want to read this. This was a very high tree and healthy. However, to cut down the necessary limbs and branches, it was just too dangerous to send anyone up that high. There are no cherry-pickers here, so the only way to cut things are for someone to shinny up and start cutting.

After Miguel had tied off some rope about 45 feet or so up in the tree and had shinnied back down, the three of us tied off the rope to another tree, and Miguel went to work with the chainsaw.

He cut it as deep as he felt comfortable with, and we pulled and sat and jumped up and down on the rope. No dice, the tree wasn't going anywhere.

Miguel went to bring in another fellow who lives across the street. No luck, not enough weight to bring the tree down. Then Miguel went to get another two fellows and a hand-winch.

This was about a 2-hour process, while the winch was hooked up (including Miguel climbing the tree again after it had been cut to wrap some cable around up high) and everyone was wrenching downward on the rope.

Finally, there was a good breeze blowing through and the hand-winch was cranked tight. At that point, the tree started crackling and all six of us all bolted in six different directions when the massive tree came crashing down.

No one was hurt, the tree fell far enough away from everyone. Two of the fellows bolted through hanging vines that have about 1/4-inch stickers and had some scrapes from that, but otherwise were OK. When the tree came down, everyone was pulling so hard on the rope, no one could see which way it was falling, so it was a mad dash for safety when the bugger came down.

The tree did take out one of the power lines that light up the driveway, but we had those up and fixed within an hour.

Now, we're just waiting for Coopalesca to show up.

Clearing the way. . .

So, after the inspector came out and said the contractors failed to clear the branches over the new lines (and the contractors said they were unavailable for the next few weeks) Miguel decided to take matters into his own hands.

The offending branches were attached to a tree that was probably around 100-plus feet high. We have an extension ladder that goes up to 30 feet. Miguel clambered up the ladder, with a harness that had a rope that myself and his son, Gerardo, were holding onto in case he fell.

After Miguel cleared the ladder, he shook off his boots and let them fall to the ground. Then he shinnied another 15 feet up to a crook in the tree where he could rest; all the while Gerardo and I were keeping him aloft by pulling on the rope attached to the harness.

After we sent up a bottle of water to Miguel by rope, he got ready to shinny up about another 10 to 12 feet to another resting spot in the tree, where he planned on tying himself off, hauling up the chainsaw and whacking the limbs.

At that point, I turned to Gerardo (being somewhat dim-witted, it took me a bit to figure out the plan) and asked if it would be better to just take the whole tree down. Of course, he said, and asked Miguel, who promptly tied off the rope up high and came back down.

Then ensued another batch of work. . .

The waiting game. . .

And so it continues. After three weeks without any news from Coopalesca, an inspector finally showed up to check out the poles planted in the ground and the cables.

The inspector (the same fellow who has been out here twice and has seen everything) came out and pronounced the project--unworthy.

The contractors that Coopalesca had hired, apparently did not have enough tension on one of the guide-wires, and they failed to cut down some of the branches that were hanging over the new lines.

Back to square one.

Surprisingly enough, the contractors came out, scurried up the offending pole with the guide-wire, and had the repair done a day afterward. However, they said that it would be at least two to three weeks before they could come back and take down the dangling branches (more on that later).

So, after starting the process in June of this year, we're nearly at the end of October and are still awaiting everything to be connnected.

Working on high. . .

OK, so working on the Toucan tree house isn't like working on a skyscraper in New York or climbing a mountain, but it is kind of high, about 25 to 30 feet high.

However, when you are replacing the stairs, that's pretty high, especially for someone who is afraid of heights (yours truly).

And while I am afraid of heights, that was nothing compared to what Darling went through.

Since we were replacing the steps on the tree house, we tore out part of the wall to put in a larger window and also sanded and varnished the inside and outside of the tree house. The first day, Darling and Patricia went up to clean and prep the inside for varnish. We told them ahead of time that they were going to be walking up the stairs, but they would be coming down by ladder, as we were taking out the stairs.

No worries, they said. They know I'm a chicken up high, and when I brought their lunch up their ladder, Darling was having a good-ol yuk at my shaky steps up and down the ladder.

Darling thought it was a hoot and a holler until it was time for her to come down.

Patricia, as she is wont to do, shrugged and climbed down the ladder from 25 to 30 feet up (there is the railing to climb over as well). Darling, on the other hand, had a serious panic attack. She retreated into the tree house several times, sobbing and not wanting to come down the ladder. Patricia tried to coax her down; Miguel tried to coax her down; Lucy tried to coax her down. Nothing was working.

Finally, Gerardo (Miguel's son) scrambled up the ladder and showed Darling how to come down. She finally made it and was chuckling a bit afterward, though she has vowed never to go up in a tree house again if there are no stairs.

The next day, while there were still no stairs, Patricia went up on her own and we gave Darling the option of:

A) Cleaning the remaining tree houses;
B) Digging a new septic line and cleaning out the tank on the Toucan;
C) Wrangling the venomous snakes with her bare hands;
D) Massaging Bejuca and Mini-B's feet;
E) Just taking the ladder up the Toucan and hanging out.

It was an easy call for her, and the other tree houses are now clean; the septic line is finished; there are no more snakes and Bejuca and Mini-B are prancing like princesses.

OK, B, C, D and E were all fiction, but it was kind of entertaining, eh? Now that we know Darling does not handle heights well, no more climbing for her. That, of course, doesn't mean that the ribbing will let up.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY. . .

To the loveliest and nicest wife that a goober in Costa Rica could ask for.

Indeed, Lucy is a year older today; but also a year prettier and a year wiser (and a year crazier for sticking with a bozo like myself).

Unfortunately, the day will be mostly spent doing work on the tree houses and errands that Lucy has to take care of; such is the life at a hotel.

We just have one checkin tomorrow, and they should be here by 3 p.m., so hopefully we can escape for a birthday dinner.

We love our dogs. . .

And we're reasonably sure our pooches love us as well. However, in the past week, our brood has given us a gift that we would prefer not to have.

Yep, it's fleas. It's that time of year when the buggers are running out and about in the jungle and they pick up the insiduous little creatures and there's not a whole lot we can do about it. We alternate between flea collars and Revolution, Advantix, etc., but the little mites keep coming strong.

At one point, we could use up an entire Sharpie connecting the dots. It's just one of those things that pet owners have to put up with, we figure, as we're doing everything we can to corral the little blood-suckers.

Here we are. . .

Still awaiting the final hookup of the new transformer and power lines. The process stareted back in May sometime.

In August/September, we though real progress had been made, as some fellows came out and put up the new power lines, poles and transformer. All that was left, we were told, was for the power company to come out and hook up the new meter.

That was more than a month ago. We are still waiting for at least one, possibly two, inspectors to come out and give the official okely-dokely. We have already had two other inspectors come out and they presumably gave it the thumbs-up. Both of them had a fishing weight hanging on some line and they just walked around and eyeballed the new poles that were put up. They didn't do anything else. Maybe the next round of inspectors will actually check things out?

Of course, the money has been paid; it's just up to the power company at this point. Conservatively, and pessimistically, we're putting the over/under at around Christmas.

Timberrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

We've been getting a fair amount of wind lately, and that translates into falling branches. Occasionally, it also means falling trees.

The other day, a couple of good-sized branches fell around the grounds and Miguel, Gerardo and I scouted the area to see which trees were a danger and which ones were just freaky accidents.

We ended up taking down three trees, and when we had them down on the ground, it was easy to see why they were shedding limbs. They were nearly hollow inside up near the top, as they had rotted from the inside out.

That, and the fact that everything grows quickly here, means that trees can come down whenever ther's a good, stiff wind blowing through. It's something that we have to keep an eye on constantly and it keeps us on our toes.

Rule No. 478. . .

When everyone is finished after a 10-hour day of varnishing, do not, under any circumstances, see who wants to go and help clean out the gutters or the ditches before it rains. Particularly when your Spanish isn't good enough to try and pull off a lame joke.

Let the place flood, get carried away and let the others build arks.

Just not worth it.

A Costa Rican Tradition. . .

Here is that when it is someone's birthday, they are either greeted with a shower of eggs or water hose.

It took a while for Lucy and I to grasp the meaning (though Lucy has still yet to be hit), but it is very popular.

This past April, on my birthday, I was hit twice by Miguel, out handyman of all trades. Much mirth was the result on Miguel's part; I got a lot of protein for my follicles.

It entailed a raw egg cracked over the top of my head. Fair enough, it was my birthday.

Miguel's birthday, was last week. Being a creature of habit, Miguel likes to sit in the same spot daily to enjoy his coffee. Naturally, that opened up a door (or bucket) for myself.

While Miguel was enjoying his coffee (and sadly his breakfast) I jumped up and brought down a rope that was attached to a bucket (3-litre water bottle) full of eggs, milk and water.

After the initial shock (and great learning curve for bad Spanish words) Miguel was impressed with the ingenuity, which leaves me a little fearful for next April.

A varnishing frenzy. . .

This is the time of year, as has been stated here previously, where we catch up on the maintenance of the tree houses.

Basically, it means that we are sanding, staining and varnishing the inside and out of the joints for the the upcoming year.

The tree houses aren't all that large, but there is a lot of wood that needs to be covered with varnish.

Pretty much, from Jan. 1 through the end of August, we are booked solid, so September and October are our times to get the rough work done.

As of October 9, four of the five tree houses have been made over, including the Sloth tree house, which now has new flooring. The sole tree house left is the Toucan, which is closed to all starting Oct. 17. That is the only tree house that does not have a wrap-around porch, so it also makes it the most difficult to sand and varnish. Couple that with the fact that a couple of wasp nests are hnging about outside the tree house, and it gets even trickier.

For the record, we use marine varnish here, which is what I suspect folks use on their sailboats. It does rain a lot here, so the marine varnish is a good thing. The only trick, at this time of year, is finding a good window to slap the varnish down before the rains come. No easy feat. The other day, Gerardo, took the leaf blower to dry off the steps before the rains came.

The sweet smell. . .

Of vanishing brain cells. And we all thought that the marine varnish packed a brutal punch to the olfactory senses. Then we stripped out the Pergo flooring on the Sloth, sanded down the wood and stained it.

Have mercy. That stuff will curl anything and everything in its way. It makes paint thinner smell like roses; a rendering plant like the Breakfast Slam at Denny's. . . You get the picture.

Putting that down on a hot, humid day with not much wind will really have you thinking about the wisdom of that choice.

Of course, everyone knows this. . .

Except for the handyman-challenged folks like myself. . . However, the other day when Miguel was re-wiring the laundry room to make room for more heavy-duty appliances (220 volts, like back home) we were working in close quarters.

That initial brush is NOT static electricity, as I thought, but just like what the original handyman Bruce has told me many times: It's a real jolt. Then again, I was trying to figure things out in Spanish, so I was even slower than normal. I was nearly knocked off the milk crates (Miguel was atop one of the washers) and no harm was done, (though Miguel thought it was pretty funny).

All is well and the internal wiring is all set. . . The external and the transformer? That's another story at this point.

Many thanks. . .

For the anniversary wishes. . . Lucy and I had a fine day, as we had just a few guests for breakfast (including one that has been here three times in the past 1.5 years) and we were able to get way to our favorite steak place. Mini-B did end up coming with us and she got her own hamburger. Afterward, she was too full to chase the ducks around the pond at the restaurant, as were we.

Rule No. 477. . .

After you call your lovely wife to ask her to check on the intercom's working capability at the front gate, remember to call her back to let her know that you're not around.

This, of course, after guests check in, can't quite figure out how to open up the door to their tree house and then back into a tree. No excuses.

Six years ago, around noon

California time, the prettiest, nicest woman I have ever known walked up the aisle with her father and actually agreed to marry me.

Yes, for the three of you wags that read this regularly, and will question Lucy's sanity, I do the same at times. We met in Hawaii and are now in a foreign land doing something totally different than we thought we could be doing in our futures.

It doesn't matter, though, if we're working at the hotel here or pulling Slurpees (or Slushees), as long as I'm with Lucy, life is just fine and dandy and there's nothing to worry about.

Hopefully today, we'll find the time to head to a hot springs resort and relax for a few hours and get away from the work and everything that needs to be done around the place.

Also that time of year. . .

When the number of guests starts to slow down. Unfortunately, that doesn't translate into a lot of down time here at the hotel.

This year, like in the past, we pick a tree house, close it down for a few days and clean, sand and varnish the entire building inside and out.

The Frog tree houses is finished and is looking brand new and shiny.

The Sloth is next on the list, and it's going to be closed for nearly two weeks. We're going to take out the Pergo flooring in there, then sand, fill, stain and varnish the flooring underneath to give it a cleaner look. Also, the sliding glass doors that surround two sides are coming out, to be replaced by large windows.

The doors are a great idea in theory, but are a real hassle. The tree that goes through the house is constantly moving, growing, etc., and as a result the tree house itself is constantly moving. The doors get off track, refuse to close and they're just not worth the hassle. The view will still be the same when the windows are put in, it just will make routine maintenance much easier.

That was a long explanation to basically say the blogging will be irregular for the next couple of weeks as more time will be devoted to making sure that we can finish the Sloth up in time for when the next guests are scheduled to check in. No room at the inn if it's not finished.

Happy Birthday!

To Herb Eidson, the coolest and best dad anyone could ever ask for.

Modesty (and threats) prevent us from revealing the age here, but feel free to guess in the comments section and post any wishes you may have.

I love you dad!

That time of year. . .

When the mamones, or lychee, are ripe and are falling off the trees. Here in Costa Rica, the fruit is a bit more on the spiky side on the outside than in Asia. It still tastes great with just a hint of tartness.

Of course, moderation is recommended when eating the little things, as too much can lead to a bit of balky belly.

That didn't stop some guests who just couldn't get enough. Doesn't slow us down much, either, as we'll eat them by the bagful.

Inspection of lines. . .

The inspector from Coopalesca came out and gave everything the official Okely-Dokely after Miguel had put up the posts and the other box and the wiring. He said it was a great job and was impressed with the work.

The inspector then put in the work order to have some fellows come out to install the meter.

They showed up to put in the meter late in the afternoon a couple of days later, and we were finally ready to complete the final steps.

However, these yahoos said that there was more work that needed to be done, so they packed it in and didn't do anything. Miguel needs to do some more welding and change one of the cables out.

Then, we'll have the inspector come out again and then the meter guys and then the dude to hook everything up to the new transformer.

That, of course, will happen when pigs fly and the folks get on the same page.

The over/under is set for Christmas when this will actually be finished.

Hometown visitors. . .

For the first time in 2.5 years here at the hotel, we had someone from a hometown. It wasn't mine, it was Lucy's hometown of Visalia, Calif.

A great group of folks came down (nine in total) and stayed for a few nights.

Some of them had grown up in Visalia, like Lucy, and others had moved there. With so many of them running around, it was hard to keep track of all, and on the day they left, we found out that one had worked with Lucy's sister, Dolores, for a spell and dubbed her "One of my favorite people of all time."

Now, if someone from Longview, Wash., would get their rears down this way, then all would be complete.

Did we say one step closer?

Silly us. Of course, that turned out not to be the case.

We're still waiting.

The electric company did come out with a new meter. The fellow that showed up, however, told us that we needed an additional box, that Coopalesca doesn't provide.

We needed a box with a lever to turn things off, and more cables to hook everything together.

Naturally, none of this wisdom was imparted during the entire six-month process of getting everything out.

Miguel hot-footed it down to the local hardware store, where the box we needed wasn't in stock. Off to another hardware store, where we got the box. Then a day or so of welding on Miguel's part to put the box up and then hook everything up.

Now, it's up to the Coopalesca folks to come back out again and give the final OK and hook up the meter.

Would like to say we'll be fully connected by the end of the week, but then again, we thought we would be wired by the end of July.

Pooch break. . .

This has nothing at all to do with the hotel here, but it's a great shot of what the Eidson family likes to call "Big Weeb" and "Little Weeb."

Not to give anything away, but "Big Weeb" has been to Costa Rica three times, while "Little Weeb" has stayed behind.

Talking story. . .

Once in a while, we get someone here that also works in the hotel business.

Of course, the experiences are not nearly the same; and a lot of the time, they are so different, it makes us wonder why anyone would work at one of the big hotels.

The folks that work at the big hotels come down here and enjoy the small-time atmosphere of the jungle and talk about the big-time hotels (200 or more checkins and outs per day) that they have to deal with and all of the different problems. For comparison, we have just the five tree houses and for us, when all five tree houses are checking out and all five are filling up, it's a long day. I can't imagine doing 200-plus. Of course, they have larger staffs, but they are also dealing with a different breed of traveler: One that is usually on the go and expects (and demands) a lot.

Then again, there are the things that folks do in/to hotel rooms. We have been very lucky to not have anyone trash a place, but the same can't be said for the larger chains. Suffice to say: Ugh.

The happiest time of the year. . .

It's that time of year again when there is U.S. football on the television regularly on Sundays (and occasionally on Saturdays with college).

From now until the end of January, real football will be available for myself and the three others in the area that want to watch it. The rest of the infidels will have to settle for the other football (soccer) being relegated to a different time.

Of course, most of the games are in Spanish (the exceptions being the Sunday and Monday night games) but that's fine.

The NFL Network is part of the satellite package down here (as opposed to being in a tiny slice of the cable market in the States), so highlights galore are available all of the time.

And for the the yahoos out there that don't follow true college football (d3football.com), the mighty Pirates of Whitworth are 1-1.

Check it out. . .

OK, this is a shameless plug for a book written by Lee Mullikin, the enlightened brother of the Mullikin clan (just joking, Bruce!).

This is Lee's telling of the events surrounding Katrina in New Orleans, where he has lived for 30-plus years and what it was like to be in the city after the hurricane came through.

There is a television interview with Lee out there on the Web, but for whatever reason, I cannot copy the link and put it in here.

The TV interview is on WWLTV.com and you can do a search for that with Lee Mullikin and check it out there.

One step closer to new lines. . .

We are slowly, but surely, making progress to getting new power lines and a transformer on line here at the hotel.

A crew, sub-contracted out from Coopalesca (the main power supplier in the area) planted poles and strung lines recently.

Now, we just have to wait for official Coopalesca employees to come out and install a new box and meter where the new transformer is.

Then, we have to pay someone to come out and connect the tree houses, the main house and the rancho (where breakfast is served) to the new system.

Of course, not just one person, or crew, can do it all. It all falls to other people.

Coincidentally (or not?) the folks that are doing the hookup of the meter and new box are employees of Coopalesca, and are working on their own time.

Monkey RIP

Unfortunately, this is a sad entry. The little monkey that was knocked out of the trees earlier did not survive. We got the word that it never responded to treatment and died recently.

A moment (day or so) of silence will be observed.

Monkey down!

The other day, after a pretty ferocious thunder storm blew through, I was up at the rancho cleaning off the tables and straightening up things that had blown over during the storm.

As Mini-B and I were heading up the main trail to go turn on the lights, I noticed a brown lump on the ground. I did a double-take and saw that it was a howler monkey, curled up in a ball like it was sleeping. It wasn't moving at all. I scooped up Mini-B before she could get up to the monkey and tossed her in the rancho kitchen. I got Lucy and she called Proyecto Asis, the local wildlife rescue center, to have someone call over.

At first, we thought the little critter was dead as it wasn't moving at all. Just as I was going to get a stick to prod it, it moved just a little.

About 30 minutes later, the vet came over and took a look at the simian. It got up and staggered side to side like it was drunk, before it settled down and tucked its hands under its head and closed its eyes.

The vet then got out a cage and some pipe and rope to herd the little bugger into the cage. It took a few tries and the monkey wasn't entirely thrilled with being woken from its stupor, but it was finally in the cage.

We assisted the vet with an injection and squiring some medicine into its mouth and then it was off to the center. The vet's best guess was that the monkey either fell out of the trees or was knocked out by a branch, etc., and it had a concussion.

Line V

Since we applied for our bank account in San Jose, we had to go to the local branch
of Banco Nacional in La Fortuna after we got back.

When we got into the bank, the line for the tellers was around15 to 20 deep. Luckily, we could wait in chairs, for one of the folks to help us since we were getting cards and not doing any transactions.

It took around 25 minutes, and then we received our cards. We asked about setting up the automatic payments each month, and the woman told us that we had to go see one of the other folks down the way, as she didn't do that from her cubicle.

We pulled another number and waited a bit before we were called up. Again, since I'm the primary, the transfers have to be done in my name and changed over from my account. However, when the woman tried to activate my card, she frowned, looked things over and then told us that my card wasn't valid.

Why not? We asked.

This is a woman's card, she said.

Sure enough, on the card, it said BN Mujer, and mujer is woman. Who knew there were banks that issued cards for men and women? (The women's card is the white one on top, while the yellow is the man card.)

So, nothing further to be done that day. I had to go back to the bank the following day, get my man card and then set everything up. That was relatively quick, taking just 90 minutes total to get the card and set up the monthly transfers.

Line IV

Once back here, we needed to head to the La Caja office in Ciudad Quesada to change the code on our carnet (card) to reflect the fact that we were with the ARCR and no longer on our own, in order to get the cheaper monthly rate.

So, we headed up to Quesada early to be one of the first in line, as the kind folks at ARCR said we needed to go to the La Caja office first, change the code, and then head to the clinic to get our new cards.

That, apparently, is how it works in every other La Caja office in the country. Not so in Quesada.

After waiting in line for around 30 minutes, we were told that in this area, we have to go to the clinic first and then return to the La Caja office afterward.

Back in the car, back to Florencia and another line. This one, thankfully, was pretty quick and painless and we got our new cards with new codes pretty quickly.

At that point, Lucy hopped in the car to head back to Quesada and I took a cab back to the hotel to check in on the guests.

The man at the La Caja office in Quesada was surprised to see Lucy back so quickly with the new cards.

However, when he tried to do the change there, he told Lucy that the cards would not be in the system for another two weeks, necessitating another trip to La Caja around the middle of September.

Line III

So, it was off to Banco Nacional to set up a bank account for our immigration needs.

When we arrived there, we ended up sitting next to a gentleman who was waiting to pick up his credit card. He took a look at us, and said: Are you with ARCR? We said we had just joined, and Mel said he was the president of the association. We got some more information while waiting in line and some tips on setting up the account.

Of course, the bank's computers were down when our number was called, so we walked around for a couple of hours, got some lunch and then headed back to the bank.

The computers were back up, but really slow, so it took around an hour-plus to get everything set up.

Since I was the primary on the immigration status (so why did I just get one year and Lucy two? Who knows?), I had to be the primary on the bank accounts as well.

We needed to set up a dollar account and a colone account. One of the hitches to our type of residency (called rentista) is that we have to change $2,500.00 per month into colones; not an insignificant sum. However, as everyone we talked to (including our lawyer, the ARCR folks, etc.) told us, there is a loophole. Once we change the dollars into colones, we can change the colones back into dollars the same day. So, we just need to keep the money revolving in and out of the accounts and make sure we change it monthly.

We set it up to do it automatically through Banco Nacional, so now we don't have to stand in line as much.

Fire. . .

We interrupt the usual drivel with a bit of late-breaking news.

Last night, the power went out here at the hotel. Not a normal occurence (maybe once every few months) but since we have been waiting for a new transformer and power lines, it has happened a bit more as the old lines just can't handle the load.

Lucy headed up to the box by the front of the hotel to flip the switch. She hauled back here to the house toot-sweet and said the power lines were on fire.

I got to make every sportswriters' dream call, when I called Miguel and told him, for real, we were "En Fuego".

The lines that go from one side of the road to the other were shot and that caused the meltdown and loss of power. The meter box up front was also fried and nearly melted completely down, which was pretty neat to see.

The power company came out and we had power restored in less than 2 hours.

The power guys were happy to climb the poles in the dark and hang out up high while Miguel and I (the only two idjits wearing shorts) stuck to the ground with flashlights to help the guys out. We got chewed stupid by mosquitoes and the electric company guys weren't keen to head back to the meter box, as it's a few yards back into the jungle and they were worried about the snakes.

This, hopefully, will light a literal fire under the electric company to get out here and put in the new lines and transformer.

Line II

Getting to meet the other couples was nice, as we got to hear about where they lived (one up by the beach in Guanacaste and the other by the Poas Volcano) and we learned one nice little bonus: We could save some moolah on our mandatory health care.

We found out about the ARCR: Association of Residents of Costa Rica. By joining the group ($60.00 per year) we could get our La Caja for just $77.00 per month, as opposed to $190.00 per month on our own. A nice bit of savings.

So, after our time at immigration, we hopped a cab and went to the ARCR where we joined up and got the information for joining La Caja under their umbrella.

It's a very helpful bunch of folks and when they heard our story of what we needed to get done to enroll in La Caja in the first place, they all looked at each other and the general conclusion was that our main La Caja office in Ciudad Quesada is the hillbilly capital of La Caja offices.

They gave us useful information on how to exchange our money and good advice on which bank to use, and so with more information and some introductory letters we were off to the bank.

Line I

Our first appointment down in San Jose was at the immigration office,
where we met Manyane, the very helpful assistant here in Costa Rica for the firm that took care of our immigration paperwork.

Here's some of what we needed to get to the offices to get the process rolling: Certified copy of our birth certificates; a criminal background check; a certified copy of our marriage license; proof of bank accounts in the United States and Costa Rica.

Those, of course, needed to be translated into Spanish and then put into the system. It took nearly a year before we got the official stamp of approval, and then we had to go to San Jose to get things taken care of.

We arrived at the offices at 9:30 a.m. and met two other couples that Manyane had been working with as well. I spoke the second-most Spanish of the group, so Lucy was the main translator for everyone. Around 11:15, we were told that we all could now go stand in line outside of the main office.

Around noon-ish, Lucy was called back to the offices, while I waited. About 15 minutes after Lucy was done, it was my turn.

It was pretty straight forward: Make sure the name is spelled correctly, the date of birth is fine, etc.

After that, a printout was made and this was our official certificate-in-waiting until our cards were done.

We had two options for our cards: Return to the office in San Jose in 12 business days to collect them, or pony up 3,500 colones (around $7.00) each and the cards (or carnets as they're called here) would be at our local post office in La Fortuna in three days. No brainer on that call.

We now have our cards. However, Lucy's card is good for two years, while mine is only good for one. The reason? No one really knows. This way, I suppose, I'll have an idea of what it takes to renew next July