As my time in Costa Rica nears three weeks, I have made an observation that I find fascinating...

Although women have much greater freedom and rights now than they did in previous centuries, there seems to be a cloud from the past hanging over modern Tica women. The rate of teenage pregnancies is very high, and from what I have seen, a trend among Costa Rican girls seems to be to have one or two kids at a young age--with or without a father present in the home--and then "get started" with life, and whatever career that may or may not involve. There does not seem to be as much expectation for Tico men to be faithful or committed to a family and raising kids as there is in, say, the United States. I've heard from several people that fathers typically tell their sons, "You can't expect to sleep with every woman in the world...but you have to at least try." Growing up with this sort of chauvinistic mentality does not encourage young men to commit to a family, however Costa Rican women seem to accept this fact and make the best of it.

Strange Lands, Strange Tastes...

As I was walking down Avenida Central this morning, I stopped by a street-side vendor and bought a small bag of freshly-cut mangos for 300 colones (60 cents). The vendor pocketed the money and pointed to a bag of white powder, telling me to put it on the fruit I had just bought. “Necesitas sal,” he said. (You need salt.) I assured him that I did not want salt on my mangos, but he refused to hand over the bag until he had thoroughly doused the fruit with salt, insisting that I would like it. As I continued down the street, I reached to the bottom of the bag to find an unsalted slice. Unfortunately for my taste buds, the vendor had salted each layer of fruit as he filled the bag. The result was… mouth-puckering.

Pineapples and Professionalism

The screech of metal against metal rang in my ears as I flew like a bird through the rainforest, attached by a cable to lines that ran for several kilometers through the trees. Today was by far my coolest assignment yet. Two hours zip-lining through the rainforest under the hot tropical sun, and fresh pineapple and watermelon slices awaiting me when I got back to the park lodge to interview the guides and shoot a few last photos.

This assignment also provided an interesting glimpse into the Latin American culture and “machismo”…

Before embarking on the zip-line tour, I briefly interviewed a female receptionist about the business and the tours. “They are well-trained and very professional,” she said, referring to the male guides who led the zip-line tours to make sure that the tourists were securely fastened to the cables and to rescue anyone who got stuck between platforms (which occasionally happened to me, because of my light weight.) A short time later, I was standing with the reporter on a platform between zip-lines listening to one of the guides describe in great detail the beauty of a particular flower below us, and then compare it to the “superior” beauty of his penis. Regardless of the situation, they seem to have to flaunt their mascunlinity. Professionalism is subjective, I suppose, and when applied to Latin males, takes on an entirely new meaning...

Bienvenidos a Tico Land!

I stepped out of the airport and was engulfed in a wave of hot, sticky air. Blaring horns, screaming drivers and animated conversations blended into a cacophony of noise that sounded similar to what I expect a family of monkeys arguing in a rainforest to sound like.

Welcome to San Jose.