The End is Nigh

Property of Stormberry.

In my last post I wrote to you about a book, written by the father of a friend, which I didn't really like that much. The book, not the friend. Then, I've got a book from the same author - given to me by this friend - and I was over the moon. It was a book he had written (my friend's father, not my friend) about Rosa Luxemburg, a Polish socialist revolutionary, who lived in the turn of the century (like, the past turn of the century, from 1871 to 1919, or so), whom I like and whom I want to research a little more. Yes, I could have started by reading her letters (which I have... in German), or her books (I just realized I actually already have some of her books on my Kindle, because I could lay my paws on it for free...), BUT my friend had said his father had written about her, and I wanted to read that book. I actually pestered him for a while since I had to wait until the book actually hit stores here.

The first third of the book I really liked. It's about Rosa's life and her circumstances. It does have a few things that make me cringe, like a notorious disregard of the use of commas and other puntuation signs, a profuse use of outdated, obscure terms nobody uses anymore... since the Middle Ages, a strange tendency to call Wrocław "Breslau", and never noticing that today is called Wrocław, among other strange things. Mr. Quesada's misogynistic views still came across regarding Ms. Luxemburg, but after reading his novel, I guess that was to be expected.

Then I passed the first third and... and I lost my cool. Strange things happened in the book, like a chapter finished with a page and a half of back-to-back quotes, pretty unrelated one to the next, and no reason as to why they needed to be included. To me it felt like an unfinished chapter, where he had dumped the pieces he wanted to develop, but then forgot about it and sent it out to print. Then the grammatic errors started to pile up, like separating the subject from the verb with a comma, when it had no need to be done that way, sentence connectors bracketed between commas, because HEY! Commas are trendy. Aaaaaand then came the graves error of all: crass mistakes about economical theory and economical interpretations. Like what? Like claiming that the "merchandise WAGE" has a price... when the mercandise is Labor and Wage is the price of it. Because, you know, you can't go to the market to buy a wage, but you can buy Labor by hiring someone, and you pay that Labor with a wage. Or claiming that Jean-Baptiste Say claimed the contrary to "production creates it's on market", when M. Say said that "the Supply creates it's on Demand", and Mr. Keynes proved him wrong.

And to think that this man's son is an economist that could review and correct his father's mistakes.

The book also includes circular chapters that go on and on and on about one single idea. Like a pile up of all the ways the same thing can be said. The piled idea? Imperialism is the extended Capitalism, and it needs wars to keep gobbling up more and more resources to keep the increasing production and profit creation. No less than four chapters are devoted to this one idea without adding anything to it. No historical frame, to facts, no nothing, just this one idea repeated over and over in different ways.

I'll finish the book, because maybe it will have a good ending, and because I want to extract as much of it as I can, but from what I read, I can no longer trust a single word. If the economical material in it it's flawed, how could I trust the rigurosity of the research behind the rest?

Property of Stormberry

Other than that, the days have a tinted, mulled quality to them. It's the last week of work before out mandatory vacations, and nobody wants to work, everybody wants to party and drink wine, or use the time to chat with friends at the office. Goodness yes, we all have stuff to do, of course, but we don't want to do it. The sun shines just the right way, the way we here call "Christmas Weather", and trade winds chill us all.

I haven't made my holiday shopping yet, which is so funny, because usually I'm already done and ready by this time. Ok, normally by this time I am in Europe, unpacked, wrapped in my winter gear and again confronted with the strange selection of veggies at the Hungarian supermarkets, and profusely planning all my errands and visiting my favorite places along with planning out all my visits to my friends.

This time around I'm staying put in Costa Rica because I have Grand Plans: I have to be here for when the building of my house starts! :-) House I am already calling House of Seven Gables. It will have five gablets and two gables, BUT it shall be officially considered as a house with seven gables. Because I say so. :-)  Cool, right? I also have to save some more money for it, of course, because there's not such a things as too many precautions, and so I want to be all prep'd up. It's so exciting! ^_^ I'm just so over the Moon with this.

So yes, I'm being a responsible adult and staying here for my beloved house. It feels so good to say that. ^_^

I've also had a couple of other successes this year, like I managed - after great obstacles and issues - to get the director lady of the Marketing Faculty to give me the green light with my thesis project. Not like she had anything to object to my topic, but because she was objecting things that she should have done previously. It didn't sit well with her when I pointed out - with evidence and sending a copy of the e-mail to her boss - that the things she was objecting where her responsability to fix. It took her until the last day of work at the University for her to finally give me the go. So next year I'll start my fourth thesis project.

I also managed to pass my B2d German course, which completes the B2 level - which is the highest middle level - and which means that next year I'm in for the C1, which enters in the advanced level. Not like I really feel like I know all that much German, mind you. So, in the light of that I'll take a couple of summer classes - I'm thinking about a class in German Literature and another in German Art and History - to practice. In this same line I've also started considering taking an intensive course of German in Germany through the Goethe Institute. This is still a raw idea, as I have to consider things like how my finances will be after the house building, maybe a trip to Europe in Spring that's still not fixed, the remaining vacation days I'll have left, how things will stand with my thesis by then, my workload, and how things will fare with my Accounting.

However, if this comes true, I'm planning on picking Düsseldorf for studying, and a four-week plan somewhere in the Fall.

Property of Stormberry

But this are all plans for the future. Currently I want to live and enjoy this time of relaxed days, "mulled" as I called them earlier, because days do seem infused with the taste of mulled wine, even if it's not customary here. In case you wonder, we did have mulled wine or Glühwein to end our German class, because that was given. (And we had also Lebenkuchen too!)

I haven't been much at the city center, but last week I went once, and I liked it. It's not a pretty city, with low buildings, lots of dirt and crumbling places, narrow streets that can't cope with the amount of cars and busses crammed through them but I kinda like it.

This year - due to the self imposed budget constrictions, I decided to go for books for most of my gifts - and keep my gifts to the minimum. (A good thing about finally cutting some of my toxic relationships in my life is that I'm no longer obligued to scout for gifts for people I know won't appreciate them.) I'll concentrate on family and my closest friends, and that will be it. For that, I plan to make a few trips to San José city center, and wander around, checking shops and coffee shops and allowing myself to be seduced by the taste of a city that doesn't carry a tropical flavor, but that has warmth, and umph and some strange creativity. Where the garbed cosmopolitan vision of sadly pusher-uppers try to imprint upon a culture that will always, always prefer simple comfort and laid back attitude to over-processed confections.

Hey, these are we a nation that likes to lounge on a hammock, that do like skyscrappers and high tech... as long as we don't have to sweat for them, because we love our free time, and our free time means time to grab a beer with friends, laugh and be completely impulsive and spontaneous. Blame it on the fact that we have beaches 45 minutes away... we are used to the easy way of life and we really don't want to change. And these days, are Our Biggest and Easiest Days.

Earthquake

As some of you might have heard in the news - or experienced - there was an Earthquake in Costa Rica yesterday. Worry not, we are fine. The Earthquake was rather strong - 7.6 on the Richter scale, though world wide it was said to be 7.9. It worths to say that the Richter scale is logaritmic - I don't know why, which means that the difference between 7 and 8 is MUCH bigger than between 6 and 7. Anyway, anything over 4 can be felt, and anything over 6 is scary, though some around 5 are capable of freaking you out alright. Yes, Richter says it's small, but if the epicenter is close to the surface it can do real damage, or at least it can scare the living Hyne out of you.

As you all know, I work in a 16 floor building that's not the favorite of anyone. Yes, we don't love out building, and ever since an unsightly addition is being built, the lost on the view has made some of us - namely me - even more cranky. However, lo and behold, the building survived the earthquake unscathered. No cracks, no broken windows, no bent rods, not even a fallen lightbulb. My luck had it, however, that I wasn't in my cubicle at the time of the earthquake, but as I had to solve the problems with my badge, I had just came back - on foot - from the other side of a large park, where I had to go to our other building to get things done. I was actually on the lobby banging my fist against the reinforced door of the Whatever Center where they should take care of programming my badge so it works in the building.

As I was busy wrecking havoc at the door, when the earthquake came I honestly thought it was my blood pressure getting low - either from the long walk or from me tapping on the power of my rage and trying to get people to do their jobs. Low pressure often feels like the floor is sliding from under your feel or as if your knees would go on a strike, so I wasn't worried. There were no earthquake sounds, so yes, it had to be blood pressure.  So I continued focusing my wrath on the weaklings hiding behind the door (I could see them through the tinted glass, they were there!), and I noticed that "my blood pressure" wasn't getting any better. It wasn't until I actually saw people running from the premises that it downed to me that this wasn't blood pressure, it was a fucking Earthquake. Of course, by then the mother fucker had reached such height that as I went to the wide open doors towards the street, I just didn't seem to aim my steps well. You couldn't walk straight, the floor was LITERALLY being moved from under your feet!

I made it out along with some people from the lobby, and as we stood there suddenly had no idea where were we supposed to go. What can I say, I've missed each and everyone of the TWO emergency drills. Anyway, my first thought was to get away from the building and the cables hanging over our heads, so we did, and then patiently waited as we saw the emergency doors being opened and people pouring out from them. Though the drills showed that the building could be evacuated in 18 minutes (time during which you could experience several substantial replicas from an Earthquakem which would send people in the narrow emergency stairs into a stampede), the total evaquation took about 30 minutes. As it happens, it seems that a group STOPPED in their way out of the building to TALK, holding up the people from upper floors in their attempt to get out. Of course, there could be another explanation, but as I looked worried at the exit of the stairs in question, I never saw anyone being carried away sick, blacked out or harmed in any way.

Once out, people went out and blocked the streets just by standing there aimlessly, concentrating on trying to get their phones to work, meeting with friends and staring at the building to see if it would collapse. Panic? Horror? Fear? Nah, people seemed actually glad to be able to get out of the building and enjoy the nice weather. Not one commented how nice would it be to be right then at the beach with a beer. There was a meeting point, but there was hardly anyone there. People gathered in groups on the street talking, then migrated to populate the diners around, getting coffee, breakfast, while checking on the news and so on.

We were kept on the street for around two hours while the building was thoroughly inspected to state the damage, and the Emergency Brigade people tried as they could to make us go to the meeting point. I think they should provide a diner and a large TV screen at the meeting point if they want people to go there next time.

After two hours, when we were getting really bored already, we were told that the building would be entirely evaquated for the rest of the day, so we would go to our cubicles IN ORDERLY FASHION, retrieve our things and leave also IN ORDERLY FASHION. Those who had nothing in the building could leave at once. Some did. Some might even have left their cars in the parking lot. I had stuff to retrieve, plus I'm no going nowhere without Sookie. However the so called orderly fashion was anything but. People disregarded which floors were being called in, and raided the stairs, then clumped  up in the parking lot trying to get their cars out.

But there was no damage. People was actually happy to get out, go home, slump in front of the TV and enjoy a day long coverage of the Earthquake while posting and reposting pictures of the places where there was some damage.

By today graphic jokes surfaced and populated the e-mails of many, while a lot of people refuses to work by gathering up and exhausting the Earthquake topic. People around the world show concern, and I've received many e-mails from friends from all over worried that I might be in an Haiti-like situation, but in here there's nothing farther from people's minds. I think we may not take Earthquakes so seriously.

Being as common as they are - even if each time they freak the hell out of us - we have a very strict building code, which demands all buildings to be End-of-the-World proof. All our buidlings are properly reinforced with iron and the foundation is also strong. For a building to fall in here there can be only two possible explanations: it wasn build cheaply, disregarding the building code and paying out corrupt, neglecting people, or it is the Second Coming. Then, since we are small we are all taught to look always for open, clear spaces, away from anything that could fall on us, and stay there. Not like you could be persuated to stay inside under a desk when all the fun is later on to happen outside as neighbours and coworkers gather up to comment. Besides, it's scary to be at home or at the office and see walls crack and windows explode, but it's exciting to be OUTSIDE and see it happen to other buildings and houses.

Today things went back to normal, probably with people wishing for a replica so they might be able to get yet another day off, or at least a couple of hours outside. The last effects of the Earthquake are being stretched as thin as they would go, extracting as much as possible, because once it is over, we will all be back to the same old rutine.

What can I say? This is Costa Rica. ¡Pura Vida!

Sitting at the Airport

Time for changes. Change the time zone I set my blog on (though I’ve been using it in the Central European time for far longer than I care to remember), change my daily rutine – go back to waking up at unholy hours of the day -, change my daily dressing style – back to the office gear – and change the tone of my voice. Speak louder and on a higher pitch, instead of the much lower (both in tone and it pitch) I’ve got used to here. The world around be will change again, the language, the fashion and even the weather and the way people relate to it. I'm feeling blue as I leave the place where my heart lives, like a man who has spent a beautiful season with his loved ones at home, among wonderful woods and meadows, with wonders that can only be gathered in their whole splendor in fairy tales, and now must go back to work to the mines. I'm thinking again, wondering about the strange things in my life, and how it seems to be plagued with departures, airports and lots of crying for those I leave behind. It's not a cruel fate, it is not, it's simply intensely blue, intensely melancholic. It could be worse - I know that - but I keep wondering why is it that my life happened this way, how come I can never be for long with my loved ones without having to give up other loved ones.

It's still dark outside, but the day will shine when my plane takes off, I'll travel in daylight all along, with probably a fake "night" in the way introduced by the aircraft crew (though sometimes the leave the sleeptime out in trips on this direction). Be it as it may, I think I'll most probably sleep the whole trip through. These have been intense, nerve breaking days for me, and knowing that I had to leave stuff out of the luggage, then realizing I forgot others (because I was so busy being nervous I forgot to follow my own packing protocoll to the letter), these all got me jumpy, and so I couldn't sleep all night (or all the 3 hours we could have to before getting to the airport, that is). Rationality and wise words sometimes are useless against the visceral, irrational nervousness that can get on us. Well, at least I hope this freaking nervousness will slim off a couple of pounds from my frame, so I can pull some benefit out of it.

19 minutes for the next chapter of my life

My last day in Hungary has slowly come to an end. It wasn't until too late that I realized many things are missing. My dad wanted some thermometers, which now I can't get him. My luggage is complete and my cabin luggage is bursting at the seams. I'm tired. I'm so tired. What's packed is packed, and what's not... well, that's not. The most important things are it and the rest will have to wait for the next trip.

Oh man, the day has come.

Last Month Begins

Mom and Dad went back home today. Dad, still giddy like a kid about roaming, didn't waste the chance to call my aunt from Amsterdam with my brother's Hungarian SMS. The simple modern comodities and pleasures. For most Costa Ricans, the idea of using the roaming service is a bit hard to imagine, as so far the service has been quite out of reach, with high prices hard to calculate and a steep deposit that could go up in smoke in a five minute call. For an European, roaming is a pricy but affordable thing you use more often than you'd think about. Then again, moving across borders for Europeans is far easier, not to mention that the Regulation on that matter constantly demands operators to lower more and more the roaming fees, and with local fees quite high already, the difference between roaming and local calls isn't all that big.

Our life gets slowly back on the old track, and probably I'd be able to get back on track with the second List of 13. There are other things to get in motion, planning what I'm taking back, and reading as many books as I can so less books must be moved this time on other time.

I finished reading "Holy Fools" by Joanne Harris - the writer was recommended to me by my friend Trish - and I must admit, I liked it. Now, shall I risk and read another book? I'm wondering about it, so I'll probably get a sample of another of the books for my Kindle. Why am I so adamant? Because Ms Harris' style is so transparent, so light, so breezy I don't know if what I love is the topic or the style. I'm not very prone to like stories about circuses or gypsies, actors or clowns, butI like stories that involve magic, witches and monastries. Was it the magic of the writer or the spell of the type of plot? I'm still wondering. But be it as it may, I think I'll go with Lollipop Shoes to make up my mind. :-)

What's next? I'm thinking about a book that tries to reconstruct the journals of Empress Sissi, but then I recently bought a book about the Dunkan Diet (got curious), and a book of spells. It's the same book I have seen in Costa Rica, at the Librería Internacional. This time around - it seems - the book got a better hold on me, and since I had a bonus for a bookstore purchase (one that I can't use online), I thought "why not?". The book of the Dunkan Diet couldn't be ordered online (by some mysterious reason), and since the price on it wasn't enought to use the bonus, I grabbed the spell book and bought it. It made me feel giddy. It was like indulging in a guilty pleasure not everybody understands. Have you ever got, lent or read a book you don't have any particular reason to read, a book that might seem weird, unreasonable, or "WTF" in any sense, and you still get it just because you want to know about it? Well, this book is that for me. :-)

There's a huge pile of books I've here and which I'd like to read before I go back, so I don't have to carry them over. This means that I'll have to go over my plans for teh next List of 13 and make sure I don't include any "every week" activity, so I get more time to read. Remember that post about making time to your hobbies? Well, I'm taking that bull by the horns! Wish me luck!

Irresponsible Service

Ok, time to denounce something that's pissing me off. Worry not, I'll keep it short, so that my liver doesn't explode in anger. It's upset, UPSET! with the Postal Service. As you may know by now, I've been sending out postcards, letters and even a couple of packages since I've got here. It's only normal, since I have penpals and also a large chunk of my friends live in Costa Rica.

Ever since I've got here I've sent these out to the United States, UK, Austria, Belgium, Malaysia, Germany and Costa Rica. I've got feedback from everywhere that they've got their postcards, their letters and even the small parcels I've sent for birthdays and special care-packages. All but those sent to Costa Rica.

Naturally, as precaution I've filled out forms similar to the one shown here for the parcels, because ALLEGEDLY you can track them down, and know at all times where the parcel is. Yeah right. I don't know how it works in other countries, but at least in Costa Rica and in Hungary, they track the package only INSIDE the country. Once it leaves the country, the parcel enters the Twilight Zone. That wouldn't be much of a problem if the package were received, such as it happened with all the other parcels and letters I've sent out, and which - to my amazement - were received in a week or two, which for me counts as "record time". However, this doesn't happen with Costa Rica, where over 10 postcards, 5 letters and a parcel have been sent since February and none have been received. From this lot, it happens that the parcel I sent has a tracking number. The number is RR214810410HU. This package left Hungary on March 5th, and since then the track is lost. From the other side the Costa Rican Postal Service simply pretends the parcel has never arrived to the country.

It's quite interesting because I know for a fact that the parcel was correctly addressed, so it's not possible to imagine that the package was mistakenly sent to Abu-Dabi or any other place. It was addressed to Costa Rica, to an address I know like the back of my hand. Still, the Costa Rican Post Service, Cortel, feings ignorance, though the parcel left to Costa Rica over six weeks ago. Through the Hungarian Postal Service we've sent to Costa Rica a formal request about the destiny of the package, whether it has been delievered, lost or returned, but they have failed to answer so far, something unheard of.

So, you pay EXTRA money to have some SECURITY about the things you send by the Postal Service, and STILL, it's a bogus? Nobody can tell me where the parcel is, and to top it all, there are no actual, real means to shake up the IRRESPONSIBLE counterparts from their comfortable position of not doung their job and still charging for it.

This should be stopped.

Waiting Times

One of the most common complains you get from users, customers and people in general, is about the "quality" of the service and a big part of it is related to the waiting time. Somehow no matter hoy much the seller or the clerk smiles at you or how speedily they try to help your with your request, the impression is always the same: the service sucks. And the service sucks because "in other countries" they do it much more pleasantly and much faster. The statistics curiously are never there, but the general argument to hold up this impression is "in other countries is not like this".

After unsuccessfully trying to revive my mobile line yesterday, today I went to the place where the service could be restored - so I was told. It was a nice, late winter day, kinda chilly but pretty and shiny, so I merrily went to the company's store only to find out that the service couldn't be fixed because my ID was expired. Say what?? Yes, my old, handwritten, notebook-like ID was expired. The clerk asked for my Driving License... but I only had my Costa Rican one with me, so that didn't work. A bit disheartened, I went to solve the issue, at loss about where should I go. So without a mobile phone line, I actually had to hunt down a payphone - thanks Hyne for small favors! - and called my boyfriend to tell him "the situation". After that I headed home, looked up the place I should go (that depends on which district are you inscribed, so the one my boyfriend knows isn't good for me, for I'm in a different district), and my aunt actually helped me with that. So we went to the "official documents' office" where I was received immediately - didn't even had time to take off my coat! - and a very nice, sweet guy asked me for my DL or my passport - I gave him this last one - and he quickly helped me fill the form to request my new ID. Thanks Hyne I've got a new picture, because I hated my last ID's picture. This next one isn't that good either, but it's an improvement considering the last one!

The guy then told me that my ID would be ready in 30 days. 30 days??? In Costa Rica I get my new ID or driving license in 3 minutes! I've got my brand new and first "Official Residence Card" (in the old ID's there were pages where such data was included. Now that the notebooks are gone, there's an ID card and an "official address card"). He told me that I could use meanwhile my Hungarian passport as official ID, until my actual ID is done. I didn't bother much about it, but it did made me smile how people at Costa Rica bitch about the waiting you have to do at the Civil Registry, and though I was served right away in here - probably because it was a low traffic hour - I'll have to wait far more than anyone in Costa Rica for my plastic.

Well, once this was done, we went back to fix my phone situation. Now, let me tell you in advace, that my operator is a private operator, not a State owned one. So, we went there, got called right away, by the same nice guy, and he started fixing my situation. As it happens, the fixing shouldn't have to be arranged directly though them, but through a series of e-mails and online forms and requests taking many days, but just as a favor - and because he knew someone in there - my situation was fixed there. I also wanted my own mobile Internet - which I got, and guess what? These two things took an hour of my life. Yes, one hour. The guy was really nice, and I guess that seeing how much time it was taking him to do all the TWO things I asked from him, he started telling me the story of his life in a half-flirtatious way (so salesman like!), and I took on the hint and asked him all kinds of telecommunications' questions, which amazed him and gave him the chance to ask how come I knew that, so I would talk and he could concentrate on his slow system while keeping me entertained (Rule #1 to keep a customer happy: make it all about the customer!).

I didn't mind, but it was funny again to compare Costa Rica and Hungary, and how people actually complain for the activating of a phoneline taking over 20 minutes.

People, procedures take time, and sometimes companies find that giving the best and fastest computers to their CEO's and their staff is a much better and justified move than giving it to Customer Service, who by rule always inherit the computers that have filtered down through the company and get discarded by the last link of the back office. Procedures are also way to ensure the reliability of a client, and they depend on the experience of the company with problematic clients, as well as the experience of the country in general. If in your country you've a culture that celebrates getting away with murder and consider "smart" people who manage to walk away without paying, then yes, get ready to face long insurances and procedures to get something where you could walk off without paying.

Have you ever considered that your Customer Service is also a result of the type of culture you help to creat? Have you considered that your attitude and also your attitude towards work, your responsabilities and those of others, also help to mold the type of Customer Service and the type of service you get? After all, it's people from the same culture you belong to, the one's serving you. Have you thought that instead of expecting THEM to change and suit your need, you could do the changing and adapt to the situation?

Thing is that everybody complain, but if you where to actually compare the services between countries, you would find that actually it isn't true that you have the worst service in the planet, and nor is it true that there's a place where the service is happy and swift and like a walk in Paradise. Something always annoy people because people are often predisposed to get annoyed.

Of course, when examples like this are shown up, then the usual rebuke is "well, other countries, because those are exceptions", which is fun, because they either can't come up with a country where things are the way they say they are, or the witness was a friend or family member of them, or you name it. Even if it was them, the case isn't clear and you are there with the feeling that something isn't right. And something isn't right.

It's time for us to realize that the Customer Service depends on the customer. We must realize that in order to make a transaction like this pleasant, also WE have to be pleasant. Sorry, the clerk isn't there to make you smile and serve you some coffee, and you won't lose an arm if you smile first and remain pleasant and understanding. So next time, when you have to make yet another endless queue, please make the effort and be a pleasant customer, be nice, smile, be understanding. Be all you want the clerk or Customer Service attendant to be, and you may be surprised at the kind of lovely service you can get!

Moín Port, Limón, Costa Rica

From the earlier Administration, Costa Rica has inherited a series of outrageous cases of corruption that could easily dunk it among the countries with abhorrent levels of corruption. The former president - who got a second term in less-than-legal ways in a country where reelection was prohibited after a couple of brothers, the Tinoco brothers, nearly extinguished all shreds of democracy - pushed his influences up and down forcing the rigging of a referendum to pass the conflictive CAFTA, which - as foreseen by its oppositors - brought nothing but worse labor conditions and none of the rise in employment levels as promised, he signed a permit and a National Interest Decree to allow a Canadian Mining Company to dig an open pit gold mine not 3 km from the border with Nicaragua, delimited by a river - San Juan river - which flows into the Caribbean sea. This even after the prior Administration signed a permanent moratorium to anykind of industrial mining in the country, in order to defend the environment. This after the same Company (Crucitas - Industrias Infinito) had opened another pit near the Pacific Ocean, and had to abandon it due to a rupture in the membrane of pool containing cianide.

This former president - Oscar Arias - and his brother took all sorts of aids and used them to pay their friends and cohorts. When his brother, the then Prime Minister, Rodrigo Arias, was questioned, they twisted arms to get the Attorney General to dismiss the case. Just as an example, a donation from the Government of Taiwan to build 150 social interest houses, was all spent on consultors and advisers, and not a penny was left for the houses.

The building of roads was given in rather rigged procedures to certain companies, that cashed the money and laid a road that doesn't even match up to the current traffic requirements, over crumbling lands, cutting people living there (there's a case of a family that was left without water supply, electricity and phone service, because the company cut pipes and powerlines. The family, depending on the production of milk, has slumped, since there's not a working fridge to keep the milk and cheese they used to produce and live on), and the landslides happening around had already taken the life of a woman. A "highway" that charges about 60 times more than any other paying highway in the country. The reply? "You don't have to travel through it if you don't like it." Is it only me noticing that's not a matter of which road I take, but where is my tax money being spent?

It's certainly interesting how Mr. Arias traveled often before assuming being elected, to China - in secret -  only to continue when elected - bringing on the official trip his whole family, enve those who weren't working in the Government - to end up severing ties with Taiwan, halting the aid recieved from them - aid China didn't pick up, reason for which a bridge fell in a small town, killing many - to then have telecommunication contracts awarded to Huawei (in an interesting move, where all competitors, promoted by Huawei, decided to not participate to declare the licitation void, only to have Huawei present their offer in the last 20 minutes), and put a Free Trade Agreement in motion with this particular nation, for which, in exchange, they built us a new National Stadium, with Chinese workers (including architects and engineers), who then stayed around for all the new buildings privatelly awarded to the Chinese company. I bet that does wonders for the economy, particularly in the construction industry.

Thing is that there was yet another "mine" to squeeze, the Caribbean Port. This port is in the hands of the State, and sadly, it has one of the country's strongest unions, SINJATRAP. As part of a cunning scheme to pass it to private hands, for years the Arias brothers and their posey made sure funds were cut from this port, to the point of leaving it  in really decadent, shameful conditions. To add insult to injury, the Caribbean province has been let slide down, slumped into levels of abandonment no one has seen since Katrina. Most of the province grew thanks to the port, but as things have been left to rot there, people had to go back to the people-exploiting plantations, where the corruption and the types of abuse towards workers and to the whole human and natural environment are proper of a horror story... or China. Knowing the importance of the port, the union has struggled to keep it there, in the hands of the State, and thus keep a place where the Caribbean workers are not exposed to the abhorrent hunger and profit lust that comes from the privately owned companies.

The Arias brothers made an attempt earlier, to bribe the workers of the port, offering to distribute among them a total of US$131 million if they agreed to let the port be given in concession to private companies. The Union stepped up and said that no private concession was needed, but instead of distributing a BRIBE of US$131 million, if they were willing to invest US$80 million in the port, they could pump it up to modern standards and have it working like a clock. As response the Government decided to get rid of the Union's board, and ILEGALLY elected a new board that did its biding. Now, this should not come as a surprise, specially after Mr. Arias promised to the ILO to strenghten unions in Costa Rica and improve labor conditions, but did the entire opposite, or that he condonned several ilegal moves during the referendum campaing about the CAFTA, many of which were included in a memorandum known as "Memorandum del Miedo" (Fear Memorandum). However, Unions don't scare so easily. All unions got together to fight the legal board to be instaurated, and finally, with lots of hardworking and international claims of help, it was instaurated.

A Government promoted campaing to soil the Union was started, accusing them of corruption, claiming they wanted to slum the whole region into poverty, of obstructing progress. The Union continued to say the same: "Save the taxpayers US$51 million, don't spend that money on bribes, spend it in improving the port, and leaving it in the hands of all Costa Ricans". The Arias, furious, refused. It was the bribe or nothing, and made an intense campaing - almost like a coca-cola ad - to sell people the idea that the only way to pull the port and the whole region up was by giving the port to a private concession. 

This people know about private concessions. They know about the United Fruit Co. making them work to death, torturing them if they dared to form a union, refusing to pay them in money, but giving them tickets they could only exchange for goods at their own stores, at absurdly high prices. They finally have a place to work, which is State owned, where they get a good salary, can get organized in a Union, have the right to sick days and sick leave, to vacations, and are not worked to death, and for some coins they are being cooed into going back to the mistreat?

The Union had elections recently, and the old board was reelected again, to which the president, Ms. Laura Chinchilla, portegée of the Arias brothers (well, their puppet, as they have often undermined her authority, by starting political campaings to get Rodrigo elected for president for 2014-2018 the same day she was taking the Presidency from Oscar, and holding political meetings and press conferences to keep their agenda and define politics before Ms. Chinchilla is even asked), claimed her Administration has no Plan B for the case the concession doesn't go through. They put their eggs in the rigged board, and the President herself held press conferences to campaing for that board, claiming the same thing her pupetmasters have: "Limón has no other choice, it's the concession or deeper down in poverty". The Union workers decided by an appalling majority, to save the port, to keep the old board and keep the port in State hands, and the rigged board - elected originally in an ilegal, rigged, secret meeting - claims the elections have been arranged to favor the old board. The President claims her hands are tied and there are no other options available for the port but the concession.

What about the US$80 million to pump it up to shape? Or would that go against the wishes of the campaing donors and other patrons, who would resent not having that strategic port in their hands?

Last Week of Work

Monday, faithful Monday. This is the last Monday of 2010 that I'll work. Four days from now I'll be in my well deserved vacations, pulling my tight packed luggage to the counter of the airport, tickets in hand and thinking about the whiskies I will want to drink. That's a thing about me: whisky is teh drink I loooove to drink in airports. Not like beer tastes any worse in there, but whisky is like part of my tradition. It just never tastes better.

In four days I hope I'll have all my tasks done, all my boxes in my lists checked, everything packed, everything double checked, the clothes planned, the physical and mental disposition in order for the trip and all. Yep, mental and physical disposition. The physical disposition meaning my hability to sleep folded in three on the plane, lulled by the brrrrrrrrrr-POCK-POCK-POCK-brrrrrrr of the plane accompanied with the rocking of the turbulences. Really, now even KLM pilots seem to have this catch-the-turbulence game going on. Like they are gonna brag about it. "Duuuude! All drinks were shaken!" "Duuuuude,oxygen masks fell and everything!" "I've lost 1000 feet altitude! People were shrieking!". So juvenile.

Anyway, that's in four days, and rest assured I'll be reporting posting about it blow by blow, minute by minute, in every single airport where WiFi is available. Damned, hope Panama already fixed their inconvenience, in that sense! But, that will be then, Today I'm still on the job, still on Monday, still not on vacances. Yep. The day, however is rather calm and festive. I baked some gingerbread cookies yesterday (to test the cookie cutters) and brought some to the office. They didn't last 30 minutes, which left me with the distinct feeling that the form isn't all that important, people care for the dough. Damned, people always care for the dough. My sister-in-.law commented to me how much they loved my Halloween cookies and how the cookie cutters I used for those were so much prettier than these. Dude, I used a glass and cut every single Jack face by hand! We laughed on realization. I think that settled it for me: I'll have Halloween cookies for Christmas.

I received my first Christmas gift, from my friend Skylar, with whom we sat for a while gossiping about this and that. Also had a Facebook session with my friend Alix, with whom we discussed several utterly important matters that are nobody's business but ours. Then two of my friends in here, Smurf and MC called me over to have lunch at a restaurant nearby. Well, who am I to oppose, right? Grabbed my stuff and went with them, only to realize upon arrival, that this was a full-on Twitter-Lunch. Well, good they told me on advance. :-D The day has been chilling all day long, with clouds here and there, and winds that could and will blow you out of your socks if you don't watch it. Even the water arrangements before some buildings, like the CGR rippled and the waterjets were taken to their absolute minumum. Armed with our phones, Smurf and I went on taking pictures of the water and the effects. No selfrespecting twitter would pass on the chance to take a picture of a random thing and tweet it, so we did. The bragging rights, however, went to me, thanks to the fucking awesome resolution of my phone. Sony Ericsson. Gara love it, right?

Lunch was so freaking awesome I felt like a million bucks wrapped in a free bailout, wrapped in It's Good To Be Me. A bit of sun, festive environment, friends, food, good chatting, loads of free laughs... it was freaking paradise!! Hell, is fucking good to be in Costa Rica. I was in the middle of my working day, on a Monday nonetheless, in at lunch, and I felt like in vacations. Time was endless, friendship was eternal. Just check out this picture and tell me if it doesn't look like we are having one hell of a time together! And you should have seen the hamburgers we've got! They were so indecent, so shameless, so sultry, there must be a law against them somewhere. Mine was raw though, so raw it almost bit me down, but when have I been squimish about raw meat?

Back to the office, check on my JCPenny coat - which is out of customs and coming into me arms soon! Hope the tax for it isn't too high for my purse, though - tweet, blog, take pictures of a rainbow glowing over the city like a HUGE advertisement and that's it, I'm off to go home -  not without stopping by a particular store to order embroidered towels for my Mom, Dad and Grandpa. Christmas presents. I bet nobody has thought about them!

Today is Monday and it's a freaking-perfect day.

My Town

Here I don't live in the capital city. Wouldn't say I'm a Burb, but I don't live in the capital. Many of my acquintances do, and often their view of the place I live in is interesting, mostly colored with ideas of distances too long to travel, deserted roads, big buses and highways. I live in a peripherial town, that's still part of the Metropolitan area, but that houses no mayor Government powers. I'm not from the country, as my town isn't part of it, but it does have a flare, a something, like all the other 6 "Head of Province" cities, that makes us be more aware of our place of belonging.

For a country so little, you would be amazed at how different and particular each province can be. My town crowns the 4th province - out of 7 - and is known to be a conservative, peaceful place, whose daughters are the most beautiful women of the whole country, bursting with beautiful flowers and packed to the brin with pubs. Many may not have this much insight of this town, but will only know it as the City of the Flowers, where women are legendary beautiful. Well, we are. :-D

However, there's more to this town. Though criminality has spiked up quite badly in the last 5-10 years, the habitants still clutch to the traditions and habits of other times. There's no feeling of being among strangers, where men, even the younger ones, let women first on the bus or into stores, out of them, out of instinct. Black, short wavy heart, much in the style of traditional Pedro Fernández, with dress pants and pressed shirt. Like a colonial Latin city trapped in the glory of silverscreen epics.

There's a kind of old, traditional life, with the old crafters, the shoemakers, the coffee plantation owners and workers, the small farmers, taylors, artists, teachers, professors and so on. The galant, sober old men, the old ladies that leave the door of the house open and sit on their rocking chairs watching the TV, but more interested about who walks by on the street. The house of one of the finest president's this country ever had, son of this town (unlike another son that meant the biggest disgrace the country and the town ever suffered), the elderly, retired group of men who gather every afternoon at the main square, before the Parrish, to talk about politics, philosophy, the world, the weather, life. The town's band playing every Sunday morning and Wednesday evening.

More than a sense of safety, it leakes into the open soul a sense of pride and belonging I can't explain otherwise. It's your very tight, very own culture that nobody else with your same nationality, but from any other provice can't get. We are not as conservative and catholic as the Cartago residents are famous for, not was gay (not in the homosexual sense), cheerful, humble and resourceful as the residents of Alajuela. We are not as flavorful as the residents of Limón, nor as quite and hardworking as the residents of Guanacaste, or as party animals and laidback as the Puntarenas residents. We are calm, happy and drunk. We have our very own traditions, our little historic places, places that are not thought in schooltexts, but told from generation to generation, passing on one of the many versions of the same story.

Sipping on a coffee with my Capital City friends, watching them frown at my town and the distance one must make to get there, or simply talking about life, I find myself searching their faces, trying to find those things present in the faces of everybody else, that talk about these very provincial things. What do they have, these Capital City Kids, that would be only theirs? Can't seem to find it.

I turn to my town, my elders, all our friendly faces, our tendency to give every single direction by mentioning pubs, our pride for our ladies, our old fashioned courtesy, our saluting on the streets, our pensive artists, deep thinkers, and our knowledge of the old buildings, and try, for a moment I try to imagine life without these collective memory treasures. Live outside my cozy town seems so deserted.

Big is My Country

With much joy, today Costa Rica woke up to Hope in its Legal System. Industrias Infinito, a Canadian Goldmining enterprise found its outrageous demands halted by the Court, as after their pretentious behavior, daring to disregard the judges, disrespecting them, confronting their rulings and behaving in manners proper of kinder garden children, their earlier obtained permits were revoked, and found themselves fined to pay for the environmental damage dealt to a protected primal forest.

Their bullying didn't work here. Big shot lawyers didn't do the trick. The judges weren't awed with the big names and big signatures that backed them. If anything, this process stripped down the State to its most shameful facts. Dodging questions, pretending to get out of trouble simply by the volume of their shouting, disregarding facts, trying to hide them under their screaming.

A well prepared team of environmentalist lawyers brought donw the facts brick by brick, exposing the lack of studies, lack of due procedure, the lack of the minimal requirements, the outrageous disregard of the Law, where the head of the concerned Ministry had the nerv to say she had no knowledge of the ban on all mining activities, ruled two years before.

Over the head of the former President of Costa Rica, Oscar Arias Sánchez, looms now this charge as well, for the Court ruled the Public Ministry shall consider opening a procedure against him for signing a National Interest Decree to favor the Goldmining company.

Crucitas, the case of bribing the Caribbean Port workers and illegally deposing the head of the Union, and maybe even the case of Autopistas del Sol and their poorly built and managed road to the Pacific. Oscar Arias, who dared to claim that Hell would freeze before anyone could prove a case of corruption in his Administration may need an anorak on his way downstairs. It seems this is the time when snowflakes have a good chance in Hell. :-D

On Human Experiences

Finally I was able to get  a grip - or something of the sort - on my onw stuff, and finally was able to sit down and start my letter to Hélène, which I'll probably crush into a paper ball later on and start again. On Saturday my mailbox brought me two new letters, which on top of Daniela's add, well, three letters to read and reply. On a way I'm happy I have letters still to read and to write, as these keep me occupied, keep my "hobbies" filled instead of leaving me with the sound sensation of void that comes when the last letter was written, sent on its way and all you are left with is with the waiting. 

A penpal of mine wrote to me recently that it was mean, she knew that, but often letting go of a letter filled her with a feeling of sadness, as if she were putting an end to a nice, warm, long conversation, and though you would get an answer and the cycle would go on and on endlessly it wasn't the same. To say this over the net doesn't sound as stupid as it sounds face-to-face (reason for which I believe some people avoid the face-to-face reality and therefore stay only on the cyber plane of life), but I get that, and I understand how hard can it feel when you must part from a dear friend, who lives on the other side of the planet, whom you can't see for a talk and a coffee every Tuesday, but with whom the contact is through some distant mean of communication, and whether if that person has been in your life for years or merely a few weeks, or if you just met him or her online.

A letter, thus become, like some sort of extended afternoon coffee where actually time isn't a boundary for you to say all you want to say (unless you are in a hurry to post the letter before the Post Office closes, which has happened to me more times than not. Has anyone else finished a letter at the Post Office, perched on one of those uncomfortable counters  - suddenly so comfortable - while every single postal employee eyes you like the sole reason on Earth they are not home? If you do, please honk, so I don't feel like I've been the only "Postal Worker's Nightmare"), that time decomposes, fractures differently. A written letter on one side, and one on the writing at the other, your pen balancing from your fingers while you nurse a cup of good, hot, tasty coffee. Its a long, nice chat where no one has to go nowhere, that breaking up a moment to go to work is like taking five minutes to go to the bathroom.

However these past weeks have been anything but peaceful and quiet. There have been a lot of "situations" to handle, many of which I would have rather handled with a shotgun,  thruth to be told, and others that presented such a level of tanglement my brain simply froze upon the attempt to get some sense out of the mess. The human capability to mess neves ceases to amaze me.

I had this intense desire to write, to communicate from my inner self, and thought often about picking up my pen and replying to my letters, connect my computer, steal some time and blog, and optimistically took hundreds of pictures of my surroundings, of the lovely things that inspired me at the moment, builing in my head paragraph after paragraph of thoughts and stories.

This month, I had this intense feeling, magical sensation almost, of the colorful, loud, teluric beauty of this land. Odd it me, I know, but I found myself aiming my camera and loving the typically Latin American flair of the world around me. The simplicity, the odd and uneducated way of things, where the colonial features remain here and there as a reminder that no longer hurts, of the history, of the Spanish domination, of those white men that came to conquer, that vanquised the natives and of which the society in general has no feelings one way or the other. Buildings that hold more about the short and badly told story of this young nation, that seems to believe history is something to be forget, something to pull out for banners and political justifying, not realizing, how that story, and the undervein of it still runs strong, as if in reality the whole country were still submerged in that past - minus the heroes.

From the terasse of a somewhat trendy-wanna-be coffee-bar, while waiting for Carrie, the pictures snapped, the Postal Office building yellowing away behind the buildings of a 1970's built, and refurbishings and other smaller attempts at pulling something from the 21st century, something that seems to pepper other districts of the Capital City. Escazú, Mata Redonda, Montes de Oca, Zapote. A building crammed in a city center so chaotic, so poorly planned, so messed up, filled to the brim with crime, which politicians fleed, abandon like rats after it has been their doing, their lack of real interest, their poor planning that turned into a cluttered maze of aformity.

Yet it has a sort og charm that touches my soul in these days. It's the city that mirrors the hearts of those living part of their lives here, those that inhabit it. It has a lot of detached bits of many trends, and uneducated collection of a lot of things you should know to be educated. It's the forward thinking of the Metropolis, that's somewhat unable to let of of the old, because the crowds are so large and everybody has his or her own opinion. Thus the mind and the city remains cluttered, trapped in nobody's land with a lot of bits that leave up to nothing, with the elitists thinking only on escaping, living the mess to others, detaching themselves from the experience, as if they had really nothing to do with it.

San José amazes me.

Last week I took my first train trip in Costa Rica. Well, we call it "train" and it does look like a train, but it's more like some ... well, it does work like a train... like a trimmed train, slow and short that does the job of a tramway. Small platforms, somewhat haphazardly made, very basic infrastructure, for a rather modern machine. Another entertaining feature. It has a character too, an amazing air about it, as it compresses a trip through unseen sites, poverty and lush vegetation. My own province opens up, from a mildly modern, yet even more narrow and crammed city center, to truly honest mid 20th century visions. Wood structures built decades ago, painted ages ago, only recoated, but never changed, with simple stores packing fresh vegetables and fruits on wood shelves and boxes. Simple people and such a sweet, soft feeling about everything. The mirror of my people: cluttering up a little for appearence, to show up to the big brother San José, but in their heart simple and homey.

It's a warm feeling, something close to delving into a nice Carmen Lyra novel, full of romantic dreams of the life in the country, in dreamy poverty where love and honestly is all you need. Heredia, the city of flowers and beautiful women, stays quiet and simple, honestly believing itself to be the safest place on Earth.

189 Years of Independence... From Spain

As a penpal, I've been contacting native Spanish speaking women (I prefer penpals around my age, and we, ladies, are no girls, but Women), and though my favorites are the Latin Americans, are we all share a culture, and then, I must admit, the richness of South American cultures constantly bewitch me. However, I've also found some quite interesting potential penpals from Spain, with all their fun ways of speaking Spanish (even in written, they are so different from us! It's a complete hoot to read them!), and their fabulous culture.

Today is Independence Day, with all their Parades and celebrations, suddenly thinking of them is "strange", to say the least. I mean, we are making this huge party, nation wide party to celebrate that we are no longer theirs.

In here the celebrations, actually start from the 14th, around 6 pm, when the National Anthem is played and we all stand up and sing, and watch the Intependence Torch bring the fire of hope from province to province. It is one of those moments that really, really make you feel patriotic. All the buildings are decorated with the flag, people put little flags in their cars and decorate with them their workplaces. All patriotic songs are played, and we recover them in our memory, sing them again with the same fervor we had when we were young.

I've pictures of this, but since I'm stuck trying to upload a vid I did of the parade, which is why I have no bandwidth left for even the smallest picture ever. Probably you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see a couple of pics of it. (Later note: the vid failed, took too long to upload, so now I add a few pics.)

This year we celebrate the 189 anniversary of our Independence, and it has come with lessons, perhaps even wisdom. The Region is dipped in violence and turbulence, and this country is not the exception, and thus, as we celebrate our independence from Spain, we are held in many fronts by agression. Narcotraffic, crime and corruption in all levels. Our Governants surrender our country, without our concent, to other countries, like the U.S. and China, to foreing capital, like that of Industrias Infinito. We claim independence, freedom from the Spanish, freedom to be who we are, but we do not give the same right to the Native groups that originally lived here, whose lands we have looted and from which, like the Spanish, we have pushed them off.

Independent, really? And what had that independence done from us.

What Can You See

An English penpal of mine asked me in her first letter to tell her how the Sun was. This because she told me that England hardly sees any sun, and it would be nice to know that there's a place where you can actually see it. I looked around me, in the Glass Tower I work in, and I didn't see the Sun. I walked to the window with my phone and clicked a few frames for my friend.

It is a general mistaken idea in the minds of the North, that in here, close to the waist of the planet exists the land of the Eternal Sunshine, with white-sand beaches and aquamarine waters bursting of colorful fish. Well, no. Have you heard of "rainforests"? Well, why do you think the "rain" word is part of it? Because it needs rain, requires rain, rain is vital for it's existence. Thus these rainforests must grow on rain-rich lands, which brings us to conclude that these are, indeed, rain-rich lands. Ergo, you can't look out of the window and capture a picture of the Sun at any minute, except, maybe during the dry season, when the rain is much less often. However, well, right now we are deep in the rainy season, with sights like the one you can see in the picture to the left.

Out of Hyne knows what impulse, I started taking pictures from different angles, taking advantage of one of the perks of being forced to spend 9,6 hours of my day in this Glass Tower. These are some of the pictures I kept taking.

Then, yesterday as I was talking to a coworker of mine, a HUGE, BLACK column of smoke rose in the horizon, freigteningly thick. In seconds, like any morbid, metiche Latin, I ran to the window with my phone, and was closely followed by the closeby colleagues. Not even an earthquake moves that many people that fast. Quite scared, we, and people from other departments, gathered at the window trying to guess what was burning.

People from all over the floor suddenly gathered both in fear and morbid fascination, staring at the thick tube of smoke reaching high, thickening before our eyes rising like some sort of skyscrapper distorting the view. Then, out of the blue, in the silent view, an explotion of hisses from the gathered viewers anounced a new addition to the black smoke. As the column fattened visibly, from time to time huge flames sneaked between the crevices of the bubbly black. Higher than the buildings around, dark orange and red snakes that strangely had none of their natural glow. Flat, matte coloured fast fingers flared up vomiting thick gobs of more black smoke.

I clicked a few frames and soon tens of phones pulled out for the amateur reporter-on-the-road. Calls were placed to make sure loved ones were not in the vicinity, that they were sound and safe, and once that was stated, with morbid pleasure the spectacle was shared. Something is burning, and is burning BIG!

In the end it turned out to be the warehouse of a paint making company, whose warehouse - the same warehouse - burned out the same way in 2003. One would have thought they had learned their lesson.

I do intend to catch for her a few happy gimpses of Sun, so that maybe she can place her fingers on the image and get a bit of the heat it radiates down to the people, but those will be saved for a further post.