Category Archives: Rural Living
¡Boy oh boyero!
What’s a boyero? I wondered, when I saw a notice for the Día National del Boyeros, a festival held in San Antonio de Escazu, in the Central Valley. A boyero, it turns out, is a man who drives an oxcart. … Continue reading
Are you worth more than a goat?
When it comes to being born, location is everything— especially for women. So I’m grateful that I wasn’t born in a part of the world where women are routinely denied rights by some fanatical element or another, or a place … Continue reading
What’s that smell?
One day last week, I got a whiff of something noxious nearby. The smell was not unlike ones I’ve sniffed driving through Pennsylvania farming country— fertilizer, maybe. A bitter, acrid smell invaded my senses. I felt it in my nose, … Continue reading
Feed them and they will come
The hummingbird feeder on the tiny veranda in front of our house was empty when Jack and I sat down to chat. A solitary Rufous-tailed Hummingbird perched on the clothesline nearby. It flew in, chirping loudly, and hovered near the … Continue reading
Lucy Lieu
Here in rural Costa Rica, few dogs enjoy the privileges of their northern cousins. In the towns, disease-ridden dogs drag themselves from doorstep to curb, in search of scraps. Many dogs run wild, and still others sit all day chained … Continue reading
How Do They Do That?
A couple of weeks ago, Jack tossed some shrubs into a water-filled five-gallon plastic bucket, to root them. I’m a martinet about standing water, since I’m a mosquito magnet and entomophobic. Everybody knows that mosquitoes lay eggs in standing water, … Continue reading
Making New Friends
One of the bonuses of retirement in Puriscal, Costa Rica, is the thriving expat community. Don’t think: gated enclave, though there are lots of them nearby. Folks here live the rural life, isolated from each other and scattered across the … Continue reading
Tiny Terrorists with Teeth
Last year, during the rainy season, I seemed to wake up every morning with some new bite on my boob, in my armpit, behind my knee, or in some equally delicate and completely unscratchable area on my torso. It’s the … Continue reading
The House-swap
Last April, while attending the wedding of my friends Mark and Keiko, in Tokyo, Jack and I met Mani and Jono, a young couple from London, who were friends of the groom, and there for the wedding. We swapped stories … Continue reading
