Not lost in San Jose . . .

Today we took two busses down from the hills of San Francisco de Heredia to the capital of Costa Rica, the crowded, much maligned city of San Jose. I'm taller than the average Costa Rican, so I sit a little sideways in most busses.

As we walked down narrow and crowded sidewalks, acid rock blared from tiny shops to entice us in to buy T-shirts, colorful socks, or other intimate apparel. We found our way to Vishnu, a well respected vegetarian restaurant. This was a bigger feat that you might expect since street signs are a rarety, despite our trusty Lonely Planet map. Friendly passersby gave us directions, just a few blocks more, and so we came to Vishnu for a late lunch where some customers were diving into gigantic bowls of ice cream with fruit. We were disciplined and went for the plato del dia (delicious lentil soup, sweet watermelon drink, brown rice with carrots, cabbage, beets, black beans, and fried banana, and for desert, a fresh banana pudding).

We also found Seventh Street Books, where the bookstore lady was very helpful, especially after we started talking about our favorite Latin American writers. We went on our way with a Spanish grammar book, another on Tico culture (Costa Ricans call themselves Ticos), and a dual language collection of short stories. Ah, reading materials.

Refreshed, we hesitatingly made our way to the Gold Museum, doubting whether we had made the right choice for Lonely Planet noted the museum has "all the warmth and comfort of a bank vault" BUT we were pleasantly surprised as we followed the graceful stairways down underneath the central plaza. Somehow the three floors of the museum were spacious and the artifacts beautifully displayed.

The goldwork was exquisite (especially tiny frogs, hummingbirds, and alligators, some as small as 1" to 3"), delicate and refined, some a mix of copper and gold, as can be seen by the photo (more info available here). The entire lost wax process was illustrated. One case also showed these tiny bird and animal figures ritually damaged; these were often used in healing ceremonies. Many of the artifacts came from Guayabo, though I'm not yet sure we'll go to this largely unexcavated site, though it has many of the large and mysterious circular stones scattered throughout. A 4 wheel drive is required for the 45 minute drive off the main road.

We also saw an overview of the birds here and identified our backyard bird as a Tropical Kingbird, somewhat a cousin to the Kiskadee we saw all over South America). Our eyes filled with images of motmots, trogons, macaws, and hummingbirds, that we'll hope to see in January when we go touring.

Finally, we are adjusting to the 4,000 foot altitude (that means I'm puffing a little less when we hike up hills). We're moved into our apartment, know where to buy Pepsi and roastizadas, and are starting to feel somewhat guilty as we hear from friends back home about 28 degree weather. So, I wish you were here. 78 degrees tomorrow.

Ah! Costa Rica!

We flew in to Costa Rica late last night, landing in San Jose, Costa Rica, in the highlands after a five hour wait with connecting flights in Miami. Street lights marked neighborhoods and busy intersections, and so we came to our hotel, the Hotel Hojarascas, our home for the next three days. Think 80 degrees, air conditioning, Spanish all around us, and fresh papaya, pineapple, and mango for breakfast. We slept in deliciously, and then, thanks to the help of Jose here at the hotel, who made us feel like family, we now have an apartment for the next three months, complete with internet and American football. I already miss family and friends, but we have much to be thankful for this night.

We landed . . .

First day in Philly and home, sweet home! Gordy and Lynda picked us up at the airport, we safey negotiated all that traffic traveling on the opposite side of the street, and Philadelphia looked her best on a clear, cold November night, full moon, lights twinkling on skyscrapers and the boathouses along the Schuylkill River. Greeted by home-made barley soup with chunks of beef, savory brisket and an apple cake, we were more than happy to hug Mom, catch up with all the news -- and do laundry, despite the fact that my body is ten hours ahead of present reality and I'm now two days behind on NaNoWriMo. Ah well.

Our last lunch at The Kitchin was every bit as amazing as we'd hoped. Yes, "bags of flavor." The starter, a kind of salmon mousse with a sweet, very fresh (OK, deliciously raw) oyster with sprigs of green on top. Cockaleeky soup served in a tiny, elegant white bowl. Ten or so serious young chefs working with great concentration in the kitchen. Wait persons hovering. The main -- Mallard duck on a bed of braised red cabbage with little potato puffs and perfectly roasted zucchini and parsnip. OMG, I thought I was going to die right there. And then dessert came. An impossibly tall chocolate souffle, creamy and light with just a dollop of home-made chocolate chip ice cream. I did not want to disturb my palete with coffee, tea, or even wine. I shall forever feel challenged when cooking and feel in some ways forever changed. Perhaps it was the attention to detail. Or the sweet surprise of pure flavors mixing and melding. Memorable.

When we flew from Scotland to Philadelphia, we flew into the sun, layers of clouds shifting and drifting below us, just above a seemingly endless blue, blue sea.

Just three days left . . .

It's raining today, a perfect stay-at-home day for packing, organzing and trying to remember the last details of what needs to be done. We've stayed long enough to feel at home, but not long enough to explore every nook and cranny of this beautiful city. We both hope to return one day.

Allen has decided we will go to a Michelin star restaurant on Tuesday, our very last day in Edinburgh. Entranced and inspired by the cooking on Master Chef: The Professionals, a BBC competitive cooking show featuring young chefs competing for the title of "master chef", we learned new vocabulary from host Michel Roux, Jr. (this has "bags of flavor").

So on Tuesday, we'll take our all-day bus pass and tour Edinburgh all the way to the port of Leith where we'l lunch at The Kitchin. We're hoping for "bags of flavor." For now, we're cozy in our apartment in Old Town, just down the hill from the sign of the mermaid, and I shall begin NaNoWriMo.

Stirling Castle . . .

Just an hour's bus ride from Edinburgh, so we went for the day, a long day, past flat green fields, rolling hills, then up to Stirling proper, right up the hill to the Castle. The views from the top shimmered in autumn haze, as we wallowed in history, plugged in the audio guides and gave ourselves over to the stories of James IV, V and ever after. Historic Scotland has made immense progress in restoring Stirling Castle, its gardens, ramparts, castle walls and gates, the architecture itself (embellished with sculptures everywhere) a delight, shaped by medieval to Renaissance artistic tastes.

What drew me most, though, were the tapestries. When we visited the Cluny Museum in Paris (again for tapestries), the very famous Lady and the Unicorn series feature a lion and a unicorn on each side of each tapestry, yet little is said about them. They appear almost as if they were heraldic, for the lion and the unicorn appear on the royal coat of arms for the United Kingdom, in much the same pose as on these 16th Century tapestries. Yet the interpretation focuses on classical or religious symbolism, rather than political.
Here at Stirling Castle, the Great Hall, built in 1504, features facing lions and unicorns on the rooftop. Also here at the castle, we watched a team of weavers (with help from the Metropolitan Museum in New York) work on re-creating six tapestries celebrating the Hunt of the Unicorn. Four of the six have been completed and hang in the Chapel Royal. Their purpose: to refurbish the interior of the main palace, bringing it back to 16th Century splendor, when tapestries hung on every wall. These tapestries are exquisite, exact replicas with mille-fleur (thousand flower) backgrounds.



Of course, I would like some sort of romantic story behind the union of the lion and the unicorn, for example, James V in his pursuit and subsequent marriage to Madelaine of France, who tragically died of tuberculosis, his subsequent marriage to Marie de Guise. But the reality is more likely political, and the dates don't match . . . and the history is far grittier. Yet the mystery remains behind the tapestries, both sets.

It was a beautiful day, despite tired feet at the end of our walking tour. Here's a picture of Allen on the northern castle wall. Click on any picture to go to Webshots for a few more pictures of Stirling.

Scotland's creature comforts . . .

As we wind down the last week here in Edinburgh, I wanted to talk a little about some Scottish comforts -- those little surprises that challenge and delight. I'll start with the kitchen. I think the Scots are way ahead of us in conserving energy, for each outlet has its own on/off button. Beware the maker of tea who does not recognize the switch is turned off!

I did bake a pizza in the oven. Once. The symbols (no words, no numbers) look something like a fan, a shower and a death ray. Our poor little pizza had the combo fan and death ray. And good for the emergency eject button on the toaster, for after four weeks, I've still not been able to adjust the side panel for proper "brownness". I have mastered the art of catching toast and scones mid-air. Our kitchen looks out over a courtyard. Two trees full in autumn bloom have progressed from bright yellow to red and brown. As I cook, I can watch city pigeons draft on the wind.

We have sturdy doors for each room, holding the heat within and individual radiators, turned low, that automatically come on (or not) in each room. In the living room, we can watch the artificial glow of the wall fireplace (and heater if we master the remote). At night, we snuggle underneath a duvet, no double sheets as in the States. It's so easy to make the bed. Simply waft the comforter in the air and it falls into place. Bright colors, easy to change.

Have I saved the best for last? The bathroom. You may use two levels of flushes by pressing a dual button on the toilet. The greatest luxury has been the heated towel rack, looking rather like a shiny chrome waterfall. This heats the towel deliciously,and these racks are common throughout Scotland. 'Tis true. The water pressure does vary, but we have a bathtub for luxurious soaking of tired feet. And we are in a third floor apartment, up three big flights (no elevator), but the stairs circle around in a graceful arc. I almost can make it up the stairs now without huffing and puffing.

Today we walked down the hill, across the mound and through the edge of New Town, over to the Dean Gallery and the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art. The first room we entered had us spellbound, dedicated as it was to Dada and Surrealism. My favorites, Cecil Collins and Jawlensky. On the way home we were treated to this sunset, looking back at the Scott Monument. Click on the image to go to webshots for other pics of Edinburgh. And may all your days end with beautiful sunsets. . .

Wandering down the Royal Mile . . .

Sing to me of raspberry, little pots of fresh raspberry and cream, two light scones fresh from the oven, and tea. We sat in Clarinda's this afternoon, surrounded by fine china, lace tablecloths, tiny bouquets of dried roses and heather at each table. We were wearied from walking along cobbled streets in Auld Reekie, a nickname for Edinburgh, no longer so sooty, a medieval city well guarded by provosts and burghers, well preserved for tourists, like we two, sitting for a moment, hidden gardens in closes nearby, leaves turning now to red and gold.

Today we visited the Museum of Edinburgh, housed in Huntly House, several interconnected merchants' houses from the 16th and 17th centuries, just on the Royal Mile.

I was taken by this stone panel once over the gate to Leith a port near Edinburgh. Carved in 1678, the panel shows wine being unloaded from a sailing vessel. Here in true medieval fashion, more than one event is shown at the same time. The ship is docked in the lower left; you can see a man folding the sails. Two wine porters (called stingmen) carry casks in the upper left. On the upper right of the panel, a young boy powers a crane using a sort of treadmill, helped by a man.


Everywhere we study the history, I can see how the Industrial Revolution transformed Scotland, but I also see how many suffered until governments acted to protect workers. In fact labor laws protecting children were the first to be passed. And I learned today that tea was decried as an unnecessary luxury for the lower classes, as it was more healthful (and cheaper) for them to stick to breakfasts of oatmeal porridge and milk.

Then, before we stopped for tea, we visited at The Scottish Poetry Library, tucked off the Royal Mile (turn right at the sign of the mermaid, another Starbucks). We sat quiet for a time at a small round table. Allen read Robbie Burns' “Holy Willie's Prayer” and me, I read poems from Gordon Mason's Catapult to Mars. Another lovely day.