2009 Best Of Awards

I've been fortunate enough to have missed the majority of the 2009 best of awards.  Feeling a bit nostalgic for some popular North American culture, I've scanned the internet just to keep up.  The following is a summary of what I've found.  It seems, I've missed quite a lot.

At the American Music Awards 19 year old Taylor Swift shocked the pundits by winning not only Favorite Country Female Artist and Favorite Pop/Rock Female Artist but also Favorite Adult Contemporary Artist and to top it all off Artist of The Year.  Young Taylor graciously accepted her awards wearing a gown whose colour can best be described as not a colour.  Way to go Taylor!

The PWI Wrestler of The Year Award has gone to first time winner, Randy Orton.  Good job Randy!  Randy is the youngest WWE champion in history.  Orton is a proponent of the tombstone piledriver, a sensational move that usually ends the match in Randy's favour.  Randy received another award this year, the Fat Sack of Crap Award. Well done Randy!

Unfortunately, I was unable to catch the Time Person of The Year award.  As usual, Time Magazine made an interesting choice.  Who other than that man of the people, Ben Bernanke, the head of the U. S. Federal Reserve, was the big winner.  Great choice, Time!  Ben has an interesting history as an economist.  Some of his notable observations include:

• Lauding the security and value of derivatives (2005)
• Predicting long term growth in the U.S. economy (2006)
• Calling for cuts in social security and medicare (2009)

Atta-boy Ben, it looks like you've got the U.S. economy turned around and on the right path.

Continuing on with awards given to delusional personalities, I see that the 2009 PGA "Player" of the Year award has gone to Tiger Woods.  Tiger has obviously had a very successful 2009, though I've not noticed him playing much golf so far in 2010.  Perhaps he has been involved in the movie industry.  In a previous post I mentioned a movie playing on satellite, "Tiger's Got Wood".  Perhaps Tiger has just taken some time off from golf in order to extend his career in another direction.  Next year, who knows - perhaps there's an acting award in Tiger's future.  Good-luck Tiger!

I'm sure I've missed many more important awards this past year.  Fortunately, however there is an award winner just down the road from where we are living.  Between our casa and Cabuya there was an award winner in 2009.  The award for The Outstanding Tree of the Year (English article here) went to an enormous ficus tree.  It's located just across from the church about a kilometer from Cabuya.  I feel pretty lucky to be living so close to a celebrity.  Any time I'm in the mood I can walk up to the tree, touch it, even have a talk if we're in the mood.  Unlike most celebrities, the giant ficus has no grievance with my approach and will let me hang with him just as long as I like.

You've got to appreciate a country that chooses to single out a tree every year for celebrity.

A Visit To The Fishmonger

In Calgary, we might serve seafood one day every couple of weeks.  Western Canada is cattle country.  Pork and chicken is comparatively inexpensive and I suspect, heavily subsidized.  Here in Costa Rica, it's hard to find beef at the small town grocery stores and what you do find is a bit dodgy.  Seafood, however, is cheap and abundant.  Since I could throw a stone from the house to the Pacific it makes sense that we're consuming seafood 3 meals out of 4 and enjoying them all.  This is largely due to our local fisherman, Vin.

Vin (pronounced Bing) is about a 15 minute bike ride from us, on the edge of Cabuya.  Cabuya is a strange little village in that once you reach the sign announcing that you've arrived, it takes another 10 minutes to pedal through town.  That's not because it's a big place, it's just that everything is spaced out on acreages along the beach.  Thankfully, Vin is on our side of Cabuya which means I only sweat off one liter on my fish shopping bike ride.  It's easy to find Vin's if the sign that has been wedged between two branches in the hedge hasn't blown away.

Vin's shop is basically his home which is located on the beach.  If the door is open, there's fish for sale.  On each of my visits to Vin's I've encountered a different species for sale.  Whatever was caught that day is either laying out ready to be dressed or in the freezer cooling down.  Vin, his wife or son will tell you what's available.  I've tried to translate, with some success but at one level, it just doesn't matter.  It is always fresh and tasty.

So far we've had dorado (maui-maui), corbinetta (sea bass), loro (???) and an unpronounceable fish I bought yesterday as well as camerones (shrimp) and almejas (clams).  Vin loads a portion of his catch into a cooler secured on the back of his truck and delivers to the local restaurants.  If I visit Vin in the afternoon then travel into town I know what will be on the restaurant sign boards as the catch of the day.

Well, I've nothing humorous to pass on in this blog entry.  Being able to purchase seafood caught that morning and serve it for dinner has been a great experience.  It is something that we are removed from living in most large cities and something I know that I'll miss when I return home.

Both China and Azul have been venturing into Jake's space here in the casa, the beetle versus cat, pet evaluation is underway and there is an elderly topless German woman on the beach these days so there is a possibility of humour in a forthcoming entry.

Pet Evaluation I - Dog Versus Iguana

This is the first in a series of pet evaluation postings.  Many of us have pets.  Typically, very little evaluation goes into what species of pet is the most appropriate for the pet owner, particularly when the locale of the pet's home is taken into consideration.

This evaluation will be based on the following criteria:

1. Cost of ownership
2. Amiability
3. Feeding
4. Pet's ability to do chores - help out
5. Fun - just how much fun can you have with the little fellow?
6. Deference.  I know this is egocentric but I want that damned pet's respect!
7. Tractability.  How easy is it to train this critter?
8. X Factor - not sure what this is.  I'll just use it to manipulate the final score.

Each criteria will be given a score in the range 0.0 to 1.0.  Very scientific and I am certain that if you live in the Nicoya Peninsula in Costa Rica this will give an unequivocal result which anyone considering either a dog or an iguana as a pet can have complete confidence in.

We have recently adopted a pet iguana.  Actually, we had nothing much to do with it since the creature just showed up and started begging for food.  Regardless, I now have some experience with the suitability of the iguana as a pet.  Our iguana has a blue hue and so we've aptly named him (her?) Azul.

Azul's competition in this evaluation is Jake.  Jake is a black labrador retriever who has been around for eleven years, so we know this guy pretty well.  I'm confident we can fairly evaluate Jake's suitability as a pet.

The evaluation:

1. Cost of ownership

This one is a no-brainer.  Azul may be a purebred iguana but his cost is zero.  Jake is a purebred labrador retriever and they're not cheap.

Score:          Jake: 0.2             Azul: 1.0

2. Amiability

Jake is one of your more amiable dogs.  Basically, a 105 pound lap dog.  Azul, though friendly by iguana standards has never nuzzled my leg nor put his head on my lap.

Score:          Jake: 1.0             Azul: 0.2

3. Feeding

We buy Jake his food, even here in Costa Rica.  Bags and bags of it.  He gets the odd table scrap but we don't want to upset his delicate digestion.  When presented with food harvested from the jungle, Jake will only eat the banana.  Azul will eat the banana, the banana skin and any leaf or stick adhering to the banana.  Basically, Azul has eaten anything I've offered him.  

If Jake missed even one of his two daily meals he lets me know about it.  He won't go off looking to find something himself.  Azul can be ignored for weeks and he goes about harvesting his own meals.  I don't want to know what he's been eating.  He's the clear winner on this one.

Score:          Jake: 0.2             Azul: 1.0

4. Chores - help out

Neither creature is really strong in this category.  Jake, in fact is useless.  When asked to run to the store for groceries, he just ignores me even though there would be a nice treat for him.   Azul, though next to useless, occasionally will clean out the eavestrough (though it might be one of his brothers).

Score:          Jake: 0.0             Azul: 0.1

5. Fun

Here's where Jake shines, at least when he's in the mood.  Stick retrieval, ball tossing or swimming with me, the guy can be a real pleasure.  Azul, on the other hand will grovel for food in his reptilian way, which is basically giving you that cold sideways stare.  He does scuttle around nicely if tossed a tasty piece of banana and can be amusing when frightened.

Score:          Jake: 0.8             Azul: 0.2

6. Deference.  

This one is both closer and more difficult to judge.  Jake can show deference if I shout loudly enough or threaten to withhold food.  Usually, however, he gives that hooded eye look, sulks and ignores me after I try letting him know who's boss.  With Azul, it's harder to know.  He might just be afraid I'll catch him and roast him for dinner but he will scuttle off and act scared if I stomp my foot.

Score:          Jake: 0.5             Azul: 0.6

7. Tractability  

Another tough one.  Both these creatures can be trained.  Particularly if there is food involved somewhere in the equation.  In Azul's favour, I always thought iguanas were fairly dumb.  Not in this guys case.  He climbs the steps looking for grub the minute I show up in the morning.  Jake is no slouch either and will retrieve and drop a ball within 10 meters of my feet when he's in the mood.

Score:          Jake: 0.6             Azul: 0.4

8. X Factor  

Azul is a new friend and he's got that new friend cache.  I don't know his foibles yet so am quite forgiving.  Jake is a faithful friend, so will score some faithful friend points.  He also has the advantage of returning to Canada with me, so it's best I not piss him off.

Score:          Jake: 0.8             Azul: 0.5

To summarize:

Criteria	Jake	Azul
1. Cost of ownership	0.2	1.0
2. Amiability	1.0	0.2
3. Feeding	0.2	1.0
4. Chores	0.0	0.1
5. Fun	0.8	0.2
6. Deference	0.5	0.6
7. Tractability	0.6	0.4
8. X Factor	0.8	0.5
Total	4.1	4.0

Whew!  Now, that was a close one.  Who would have thought?

To summarize, the dog is a better choice for those considering a pet here in Costa Rica.  However, if cost of ownership is the overriding consideration, you might just consider the iguana.

Stay tuned for the next issue in this series:
Dog versus Beetle.

MORE EXCITING IMAGES HERE

Juegos Olímpicos de Invierno

Patriot that I am, I insisted that the Vancouver Olympics opening ceremonies were an event we must celebrate. And by celebrate I didn't mean sitting on the sofa with an Imperial, and a bowl of popcorn watching a grainy feed on my laptop.  No siree!  It's big screen, sports bar time!

We stroll into Montezuma.  There's a "sports bar" in town with a big screen TV.  I've watched some live soccer (okay, futbol) on that screen and know of what I speak.  This is the Olympics we're talking about after all, they are bound to be lined up for that one.  A nice 40 minute stroll and we're asking the pleasant greeter, "you guys are showing the Vancouver opening ceremonies right?".  He quickly shifts his deer in the headlights look to his welcoming look.  "No amigo, Friday night is movie night.  We'll be showing a movie on the big screen.  Try Chicos."

Chicos has a not so big screen which unfortunately is broken.  The bar gal comes up with a solution.  "The pizza place next door".  A quick look reveals a 19 inch TV stuck high on the wall and two plastic chairs next to the pizza oven.  This isn't encouraging.  I wouldn't survive the heat even if they could find a channel that carried the Winter Olympics.  That one word, winter, reveals where my planning was something less than razor sharp.  Winter has no cache here.

"Let's try Cabuya.  The round bar".  The round bar is your tipico bar.  It's the basic yurt structure with a thatched roof, open on all sides. "This will be fun.  Let's celebrate the Olympics"!

I see Max's pirate taxi parked in front of Chico's right next to a real, licensed taxi.  A quick check at the bar and Taxi Luis ("see that guy in the black cap") is pointed out to me.  Luis is engaged with Max and a couple of other gentlemen in a friendly card game.  I negotiate a departure time of twenty minutes with Luis, who, judging from his meager stack of bills doesn't seem to be doing that well.  We've time for a cervesa and get primed for our big screen experience in Cabuya.

Twenty minutes later I'm standing next to Luis who, based on the  healthy stack of bills on the table, has recovered and is now doing very well.  Luis is not much interested in going anywhere right now.  Ever the entrepreneur, however, he signals a faithful sidekick who disappears for a minute and returns with our new driver.  That's efficiency for you.

We happily backtrack, past our place and arrive in Cabuya 25 minutes before showtime.  After determing that the bartender is happy to put the Olympics on we purchase a beer and head across the street for some dinner.  The bar doesn't serve food, so obligingly the restaurant doesn't serve beer.  Now that's cooperation.

Across the street from the round bar is Lila's, a local cafe.  Lila's is the sort of place without a menu.  Basically, you eat what Lila is cooking.  Tonight we're in luck.  Fish, french fries and salad!  I haven't seen a french fry in over a month.  Exciting!

We head back to the round bar to negotiate the TV and our seating arrangements.  Staff and patrons are obligingly clicking through the satellite channels.  There seem to be a few good movie channels on satellite.  Hey, I've not seen "Tiger's Got Wood".  I like sports movies.  I'll come back some day and check it out.  Until then, it's Winter Olympics time.  Or, maybe not.  Well, more to the point; not!  It seems satellite carriers in this part of the world don't have a lot of interest in the Winter Olympics.

We negotiate a cab.  No problem.  Fabien the bartender gets Geraldo his buddy to find some guy who has a car who will show up in 30 minutes.  Back to Lila's and our food appears at the table.  Delicious!  We step out onto the street and Geraldo waves to Mr. Taxi who magically appears from around the corner.  On the road again; direction home.

I position the laptop on the coffee table and start surfing.  Vancouver Olympics site ... watch online ... Costa Rica ... there it is!  It takes a few minutes to figure out that I have to click the "aumentar button" to get full screen but soon we're in TV mode.  The Moldovans are just marching into the stadium.  We get to see that flashy Romanian flag, the Russians, the Americanos and those sturdy HBC clad Canadian athletes.  The picture isn't half bad and the Spanish commentators keep their interruptions mercifully brief.  Add to that I don't understand whatever inanities they are spouting and everything is just fine.

I guess we really didn't miss much.  Add in a tour of the bar scene in this part of the world, a great meal and the chance to meet a couple new taxi drivers and it turned out to be an excellent evening.  I just wish I could have caught our national anthem...

It's A Jungle Out There

It would be nice if we could all just get along.  Just follow your basic "Golden Rule".  But, oh no, someone always has to take advantage of someone else.  There's always the free-loader, looking for a free lunch or worse, just taking your lunch.

Being green and attempting to work some food into our 50 mile diet, we've been growing our own vegetables in our community garden plot.  What could be more politically correct?  We help out by watering our neighbour's plots.  We do our volunteering.  We are righteous.

Our reward?  Some jackass climbed the chain-link fence and harvested 80% of our carrots.  I suppose the thief thought he was doing me some big favour by leaving me a dozen carrots.  I figured, "that's Calgary for you!".  Crime on the way up, caring and righteousness on the way down.  "It won't be like that in Costa Rica", I thought.

Wrong.  It's worse!

When we arrived at our rental, Donna pointed out the various banana varieties that were on the property.  "Those small red bananas are the best.  They're delicious and spicy".  With directions on banana harvesting from our neighbour Peter, I found the machete in the store room, checked its sharpness (I have no idea what I'm doing here) and set it aside for next day's harvesting.

Well next day, like every next day is leisurely paced.  You don't want to just jump out of bed and starting whacking down a banana tree.  You need your coffee.  You need your toast.  You need to check out the beach.  "Yup, still water in the Pacific".  You need to check for wildlife.  Interesting.  "Look, there's monkeys in the trees".  They were monkeys.  As well, they were thieves!

Those cute little Capucine monkeys were having a relaxed time picking and eating all my red bananas.  They were enjoying watching us while they ate every last one.  Not 80%.  Nope, all of them.  Totally brazen and without remorse.

Showing more sense than us and obviously feeling somewhat responsible for the local monkeys, Donna kindly provided us with a bunch of bananas.  "Hang them up until they're ripe, where the monkeys won't get them".

The lengths we have to go to in order to protect our property.  It's absurd!

"And, make sure that you take them down when they're ripe.  Don't leaving them hanging around".

I see.  'Cause it will only get worse.  It's a jungle out there.

Cheese Puffs - A Cultural Analysis

I've grown up with the Hawkins Cheezie and have always considered it a superior product.  The Hawkins Cheezie is as Canadian as ... uh ... uhhhh ... as Canadian as, as ... as Ann Murray shooting a frozen horse turd at Stompin' Tom Connors in net at the Tim Horton's parking lot.  Yeah!  That Canadian.  And she scores, too, 'cause Tom was busy stompin' on a sheet of plywood instead of properly playing the angle.

The Hawkins Cheezie is a solid piece of fried corn meal, misshapen and knobby, with crevices that can hold extra "real cheddar cheese".  They are solid and crunchy.  The Hawkins Cheezie will not melt in your mouth like those pathetic cheese puffs (poofs?).

If I line up four cheese puffs on a table and give each of them a name, like Bruce, Ellen, Lance and Roseanne and then ask you to memorize each cheese puff's name,  I will wager you will never remember "who" was "who".   The cheese puff is anonymous - a clone - manufactured by some repetitive puffing process (keep your dirty thoughts in check).

Now, let me line up four Hawkins Cheezies on a table and name them Wayne, Barbara, Terry and Mary-Lou.  If you have anything approaching a memory, you will be able to identify each Cheezie when re-introduced.  That is one of the great appeals of the Hawkins Cheezie.  Not only is this a delicious snack food, each bite is a unique experience.

The Hawkins Cheezie humbly mutters its Canadian identity.  Solid, dependable and maybe just a little boring.  Check out the Hawkins Cheezie website to get a glimpse of some Canadian content.  As mentioned in their earnest mission statement:

We believe that people, our managers, our permanent staff, our temporaries and our students represent the brick and mortar of our company. It is through people producing the finest quality product available, we will continue to forge our future. We will always recognize that our customers are the vital key to our future. We are obligated to our customers to deliver the finest and we have promised to do so in full measure.

Enough said!  There are the Canadian values we can take pride in, in full measure!

It is telling that Eric Cartman is a spokesman for the Cheesy Poof.  Who wants to be associated with any snack food endorsed by that little misanthrope?



Now is where I will begin my healing.  The first step is to acknowledge my addiction.  My new addiction.  "My name is Earnest B. DeMille and I am addicted to Meneitos Clasicos".  The Meneitos are the crack cocaine of the extruded cornmeal cheesy snack.  I don't know what Meneito, with his wily Latin ways has introduced into these horneados.  Whatever it is, these babies are physically addictive.

Yeah, the Meneito is anonymous.  You couldn't tell Chico from Maria from Juan Alberto from Julita.  But you will eat one and one more and again and again and again.  Your mouth and fingers smeared with that cheesy coating that you lick clean, promising yourself, "just one more" and then "just one more" until the entire package is empty and you're planning your next trip to the mercado.

The Meneito is not a humble, solid product backed by a somnabulent mission statement that gives you pride in your humble, stolid snack food.  Nope.  The message at Jack's, the company that manufactures Meneitos, is upbeat and chirpy.  Kids are being drawn into the addictive net that Jack throws with his cheese encrusted fingers.  Contrast the dependable Hawkins message with what Jack's website projects.  The kids don't have a chance!

I've taken the first step in my recovery.

Be warned.  There is a free trade agreement between Canada and Costa Rica!  It is now the time to petition my member of parliament and the minister in charge of trade.  No Jack's products should be allowed into our country.  I will be keeping you informed of my progress with my disease and my efforts with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Trade.

But first, I have to wipe all these orange stains off the keyboard.

Highway Safety

I'm told that Costa Rica has numerous laws intended to support highway safety practices.  These laws can be enforced with stiff penalties.  For instance,  helmets are required for both bicycles and motorcycles.  I'm told the fine can be as much as $500 if you're caught helmet-less.

The police presence here is very close to non-existent, which seems to be working pretty well.  The two officers that I've seen, ride together on a 250cc Yamaha, cruising slowly along.  The officer on the front has a blue helmet, his partner on the back a red helmet.  Red-helmet is the greeter and he happily waves to helmet-less families of three on a small motorcycle or shouts "hola" to bare-headed cyclists riding our dusty road.

It appears that it's enough that the law is on the books.  The enforcement of the law is an entirely different matter that I suspect is a real hassle for everyone concerned.

Left to their own devices, the locals tend to play pretty fast and loose with road safety.  I guess that when you're relaxed in your daily life you don't get as fussed up about what might happen.  As evidenced on a road trip we took last week, stuff does happen, though.

Since the standard pick-up truck only seats 2 or 3 in the front and there's that enormous bed in the back, there really should be no problem with loading the back with whatever you're hauling and whoever wants a ride.  It's not uncommon to see 4 or more people in the bed of a pickup plus all their gear.

We set off on a field trip with Donna, our destination Mal Pais, just across the peninsula.  Donna slowed the Land Rover to negotiate the dust mitigation work being done by an ex-pat down the beach.  He was spraying molasses on the road outside his home.  This creates a pleasant smelling hardtop surface, eliminating the clouds of dust which would otherwise be spewed on his property.

We just passed by this roadwork and along comes a small car followed by a pickup truck, it's bed full of white plastic picnic chairs.  The truck strikes one or more of the more serious potholes and loses the load of chairs, out the back of the truck.  What's that in the chairs strewn on the road?  Whoa!  It's a kid who was riding on the top of those stacked chairs and he's not moving.

Donna and Tazy spring into action while I stay behind to guard the Land Rover.  Triage indicates no broken bones nor much in the way of scrapes.  The poor lad did, however, land from a fair height onto his head so he's woozy and likely concussed.  A trip to the clinic is agreed upon.  Tazy talks the driver out of putting the boy back into the truck bed with a steel wheel well for a pillow, negotiating a ride for him in the back seat of the car that was accompanying this chair moving procession.

We're back on our way and Donna translates some of the conversation, including "I was driving so slowly", "you are an angel of mercy sent from heaven" and numerous other things I'm sure Taz would be far too embarrassed for me to include here.

Death At Midnight

You may consider the title of today's blog entry to be somewhat melodramatic.  All I can say is, you weren't here to witness the carnage that we were exposed to.  I can only hope that I don't have to go through such an experience again.

We inherited a fellow tenant when we moved in - a feline tenant with a claim on the property.  Squatting rights, even.  We are told that this small, black cat walked into the house out of the jungle and proceeded to give birth on the premises.  How are you going to evict such a visitor?  The owner, with his Cockney rhyming slang ways, named this interloper China Plate (whatta mate?).  Regardless, the cat answers (being a cat when she damned well wants to)  to China.

During the day, China hangs out up in the loft or in the garage, sleeping the day away.  At night, you can often see her in the yard, quietly waiting.  Waiting for what?  Last night we found out.

When the sun is up, China can be extremely vocal.  If she thinks it's breakfast time and someone is up, she let's loose with a continuous stream of meowing.  Meow, meow, meow.  Meow, meow, meow.  And so on.  She's affectionate and wants a bit of a rub when she's getting her cat chow.  Seemingly, a very, sweet, friendly little creature.  Seemingly.

After the sun goes down we never hear from China.  Not until last night.  A pleased meowing was coming from the garage area.  I went to investigate.  I should have just gone to bed.  China was proudly strutting around her fresh kill of rat.  A nice big rodent, about her size.  She had a feral, cocky, see what I've done kind of attitude.  A don't mess with me sort of stance.  I congratulated her and slunk off to bed.

Next morning.  Oh the horror!  It seems China has an excellent knowledge of rat anatomy and is a practiced vivisectionist.  The spine and internal organs of the ex-rat were left at the killing site.  The masticated body, China had moved to the work bench, a much better venue for a night of chewing and bone crunching.  My beautiful Bicycle Components Extreme was exposed to this horror for the entire night.  It may never ride properly again.

So far as China was concerned, the rat was not a proper meal.  When I awoke to the horror which she still proudly surveyed, she was meowing as usual, demanding her cat chow.  A night of dissecting and masticating rat only gave an edge to her appetite.

I fed the once again friendly black cat who graciously rubbed up against me as I spooned out her kibbles.  Satiated she climbed her ladder, no doubt to sleep soundly in the loft, dreaming her Stephen King dreams.

WARNING - Click here for disturbing, graphic images.