GIDDY UP!

It´s been a long time since my last post about Lisa and my progress. So much so that many believe we got lost in the mountains of Jasper, never to be seen again... seeminly devoured by goats! Well, let me allay those fears and send out all that we´ve been soaking in- from the land of our friendly neighbor to the North.Edmonton, Alberta, late spring 2008, was where and when Lisa conceived of, I went about the designing of, and every one of our friends who have been to Costa Rica (through aid of their pictures, memories, and quotes) jointly created the beautifully stunning, fabulous, superb and ever so Informative DISCOVER COSTA RICA brochure. A visually stimulating and multi-fasceted read for all of our Canadian neighbors to further understand WHY it is we love Costa Rica so much.After minor delays due to Canadian shipping laws and some unexpected printing staff contacts who had taken unscheduled vacations (maybe to Costa Rica!) aside, DISCOVER COSTA RICA and its sister website www.2008CostaRica.com have been a hit with everyone we meet. Go ahead. I know you want to click the link. I´ll wait.
Now that Canada has something tangible to read about Costa Rica, we thought it was just the time to delight their other senses as well. At long last, Lisa and I found a company competant and expediant enough to deliver a marketing tool months in the making- something for Canadians to digest with their eyes- THE CR JEEP! As you can see from these pictures, The JEEP has been transformed into a beautiful multicolored traveling billboard complete with monkeys, maps, toucans, treasures, golfers, scuba people, surfers... and last but never least, THE OAKS. A little bit of everything that makes CR great.
Marketing materials a-plenty and summer now upon us, Lisa and I headed South for THE GREATEST OUTDOOR SHOW ON EARTH, The Calgary Stampede. If you have never heard of this incredible event or never been to a rodeo of this caliber or magnitude, you haven´t lived! The Stampede grounds and the atmostphere surrounding it is Canada at its most rowdy and excitable. Canadians and international folks alike are heady from the adrenile, sexuality and sheer spectacle that grips the city of Calagary for two weeks every year... and we were in the heart of it!The first night Lisa and I arrived in Calgary there was an incredible fireworks display right outside our window. No, sadly it wasn´t JUST for us, but for Canada Day. People were wrapped in or painted with red and white with maple leaf adornments to accompany their hoots and hollers which filled the streets. Our new condo, a mere stones´throw (for a New York Yankee) away from The Stampede grounds, has proved a perfect new nerve center in which to begin feeling the pulse of this ¨Little Texas-esque¨ Metropolis.
Everyday at The Stampede was filled with events of all kinds, the likes of which I have never heard of. Then again, I´m no rancher. From cattle roping to chuck wagon pulls (which looked to me like a bulkier, muddier version of the chariot scene from Ben Hur), The Stampede has a little rough-neck fun for all ages. Horse rangling and bull riding not your ¨cup of tea¨? No worries. Go see the many live concerts at the Coca-Cola sponcered amphitheatre, dancing shows near the casio, ride the Fireball or Alpine Climb on the Midway, or feed your shopping need inside the air-conditioned booth arena.This year over 200,000 people walked through the turn-stiles at The Stampede (down by almost 15,000 last year) looking to get their Wild West fix along with the pomp and circumstance of parades, parties, and pub crawls. There´s a saying here in Calgary, perhaps older than the now famous Vegas´ motto, ¨What happens at Stampede, stays at Stampede¨. If nothing else, I believe. As one person Lisa and I met (a Calgarian through and through) stated, ¨This is the time we let it all hang out. We unbundle the cold from our hearts, the stresses of work and say #&$% it, THIS IS STAMPEDE!¨
Listen here cowboys and cowgirls: Next Joo-lie you wanna try something new, STAMPEDE is for you. Come to Calgary, taste the Praire Oysters, then, before the cold snow comes once again off the tower´n majesty of Banff, set your eyes South fer fun in the sun in Costa Rica.Ya´ll come back now, ya hear... for more about Lisa and Ryan´s Excellent (at the momement not so chilly) Adventure!

A Regal Experience

Last you left Lisa and I, we were traveling from the beautiful possibilities of Thunder Bay for another road trip, this time making our way toward the city of Winnipeg (anyone hear a bear?) We got into the city (early for a change) and found the Marlborough hotel where we would be spending time in one of those attractive turn of the century palaces with all the modern conveniences Lisa and I craved…like wireless internet. Moved in and worn out, we located ourselves in the Regal Beagle (attracting me of course because of its THREE’S COMPANY reference) and enjoyed the company of Robyn- hostess, bartendress, and server goddess…needless to say, she did it all and took care of us. On top of that, she fell madly in love with the Aroma Muchacho, who was so enamored with the place that he stayed over that night. I had the chance to go out and meet some of the locals of Winnipeg as well and found they couldn’t be friendlier, asking me to join them in a karaoke competition (no, I didn’t need to compete and yet roused some more uncertain people to take the stage) while they listened to a bit of my Costa Rica rants- i.e. The Oaks.

The next day it was time for Lisa and I to again “shove off”, move on, even farther west to the province of Saskatchewan where we met some friendly young men who work for the ever present Oil Fields. They talked about all the great places they had journeyed to in Mexico but were thirsty for something different…and The Oaks in Guanacaste seemed just the drink to make their mouth water. In the end they couldn’t be more pleased or excited by the information we had to bring them and awaited their travel in the near future to the province…hopefully joining Lisa and I at The Oaks for their next adventurous visit.

Though Regina and Loydminster of Saskatchewan may not have been the most exciting places we have visited, with multiple oil wells and obviously newly purchased SUVs and HUGE trucks (signs of economic growth), the people and the conversations we had were some of the most positive and excited encountered since Thunder Bay.

Soon enough it was time we came to a familiar destination, Edmonton (only two hours or so from Loydminster), a place Lisa and I felt fairly comfortable (and better since the last time we saw it in February…brrr). All we can say is that in less time than it takes to say “do you think I will thaw” we were deep in the heart of the city at a place we knew would be great for future, potential meetings or focus groups…Hudson’s Public House. This place had it all, with beautifully designed wood-work walls and floors, including a back room that seemed to echo Independence Hall itself, we quickly realized it would be a phenomenal location for bringing people together to learn more about Costa Rica …and of course, The Oaks.

After meeting with two of our favorite Oaks Owners turned great friends, Sol and Judy F., for an incredible dinner in South Western Edmonton, we knew that we had truly made the rounds and had come full circle. It was nice to hear that “the dynamic duo” (this time I mean Sol and Judy) couldn’t be more pleased with their Oaks purchase and on top of that they couldn’t wait to get back! After being away from Costa Rica for nearly a month and a half, Lisa and I couldn’t be more understanding of that growing need but, as we broke bread and passed the potatoes, we said we would all be back soon.

Thank-you Canada for all you have taught us about your land of plenty and the people within it. We learn more everyday and, as we do, know that we couldn’t have come at a better time…nor met better people!

Check back in the next few weeks for more of Lisa and Ryan’s Excellent (if not Chilly) Adventure!

POOH COUNTRY: The Transcontinental Canadian Highway

DISCLAIMER: The following is simply an entertaining outline of our Canadian tour thus far. As per our Abagado’s (Costa Rican lawyer’s) instructions (not to be confused with an avocado or abominable snowman), we have left out the hours upon hours worth of travel play-by-play (“Look a tree! Look, another Tree!”), in-depth Canadian research (“Is it ‘Eh?’ or ‘Ehh!’?), and brilliant marketing concepts and meetings, which we will not disclose for reasons of retaining our intellectual property, competitive edge, and secret spices ( Such as the rigorous hunt to discover where Winnie The Pooh really comes from: White River or Winnipeg?) We hope that this edited format will allow the reader to fill any gaps with their own imagination of what Canada must be like. Go ahead, succumb to the fantasy!
-Ryan

Only an hour out of Toronto, toward the Transcontinental Canadian Highway, Lisa and I encountered…snow! And LOTS of it! Those who have lived in large cities understand how drastically weather can change once you leave a town…and this moment was no exception. Driving a car without snow tires and (at this point) window tinting pealing off of the car in huge shiny strips due to the temperature change, The OAKS Travel Team decided to pull off into an outlet mall along the way for some shelter and to get Ms. Lisa a REAL coat!

This place had it all: a leather clothier, sports wear, hip hop apparel…but very little WARM coats. Lisa and I immediately realized that Canadians are much heartier than we, and therefore don’t need coats! It was enough to make the two of us retreat to the warmth and safety of The Oaks! After a great amount of hunting, we found at least one good coat and some very strange pants for me (with glow-in-the-dark, reflective strips at the calves…don’t ask!) After hitting one of Canada’s better chain coffee stops, “Coffee Time”, and with some travel info passed on to us from the very helpful young man attending the place, we were “fueled up” with enough energy to get back on the still snowy road. Little did we know that we wouldn’t be getting too much farther.

As I have mentioned earlier, we had purchased our “chariot”, the JEEP, in Florida and for those who have ever made a car purchase in that area, you know that you don’t get “snow tires” and you DON’T get HEAT! We were freezing cold within an hour, so we consulted our trusty Lonely Planet CANADA guide to learn that not too far ahead was the town of Midland where they were certain to have lodgings, food, and hopefully a place to get the JEEP checked out. Luck was definitely with Lisa and me, as we pulled into the Midland Best Western’s Highland Inn…right across the street from the local JEEP dealership! Huzzah!

Lisa and I took this opportunity to set up “The Oaks Nerve Center” in this very well appointed hotel with wireless connections near an attractive fire-side table in the lounge…entertained for hours by what seems to be the “vocal hero of all Canada”, Rod Stewart! We must have heard Rod’s jazzy duet album in nearly every place we went, as well as in the car! Rock on Rod! With warmth in our veins and some food in our stomachs, as well as the JEEP in the shop, we settled in for more snow and a few days work. Thanks especially to Ms. Tess at the hotel’s restaurant for all her help and good natured spirits, as well as the JEEP dealership’s staff who quickly diagnosed the problem and had it fixed in a timely and cost-effective fashion! A few days’ fast forward, Lisa and I are in our newly warmed JEEP and back on course, heading through the beautiful countryside of Canada along the coast of Lake Huron to our next stop, Sault Saint Marie!

The trip, a mere 5 hours or so, from Midland to Sault Saint Marie was filled with postcard worthy vistas and some unforgettable sights, including the famed Canadian Inookshook- a native creation of piled local granite in the shape of a person to aid weary travelers toward a good path and their destination. Along the way, Lisa and I must have seen over a hundred of these decorative denizens of good tidings, but not ONE moose! We stopped for a delicious breakfast at a roadside cabin styled hotel and restaurant called the Voyaguer’s Lodge and Cook House. The small-town, local atmosphere of this establishment, coupled with some of the most beautiful views of Lake Huron, makes it a must if you make this incredible trip. See the gift shop for music by local artists and postcards to send your less adventurous friends and family.

As you can see from these pictures, if it is pure, unadulterated nature that you want, this is the spot…but don’t expect too many places to stop along the way. One can drive for miles and miles without seeing anything but high mountain views overlooking the Huronic waters and jutting crags of granite…which was fine with Lisa and I. Along the way, don’t miss Sudbury and the world’s largest minted Nickel! A few hours later Lisa and I could see the skyline of Sault Saint Marie, a large and sprawling mini-metropolis a stone’s throw away (no kidding) from the Michigan border where we found lodging at the Holiday Inn. Much to our surprise and joy the hotel was holding a convention for over 200 soon-to-be hockey referees from all over Ontario. Many hours of chatting with these gents gave both Lisa and I a firmer grasp on the ins and outs of that most important of Canadian past times, as well as many opportunities to fill them in on the wonders of Costa Rica and the investment possibilities at The Oaks!

The next morning, Lisa and I found the BEST restaurant in all of SSM, Vincenzo’s with incredible breakfast options and my newly found favorite food of all time… the Canadian Butter Tart. After the morning feed, we set into town with a trusty “what to do in SSM” map, hunting for the must-see tourists traps…and we found them. All ten of them! The local history museum was filled with intriguing information and imagery from the town’s past, as well as trinkets and outfits from days gone by. After a drop by the local music store (where I got a jaw harp and Lisa some drum sticks), we drove over to the famed SSM lochs system which, as you can see, was frozen over but a very nice place to see some wildlife and take a brisk walk. Last but never least, Lisa and I had to try out the SSM casino! With a few dollars in a hand and an equally small amount of time to spend, we sat down at some of the machines, feeding the slots. Low and behold Ms. Lisa was a WINNER and we walked out with nearly double what we came in with. Brilliant!

The next day we said goodbye to our newly made referee friends and Janet Gregorof the Diamond Cut Tribute Band (a Neil Diamond show that was selling out at the SSM theatre) to get back on the road, this time for Thunder Bay! This drive was equally beautiful with must see stops such as the sleepy town of WAWA with its huge goose statues! Just as the sun was about to set, we were within “spitting distance” of Thunder Bay, so we stopped for some dinner at Gus’ Greek Restaurant & Lounge (seeing a pattern in Canadian road-side names?) This may be one of the last places before you meet the shores of Lake Superior where you can get authentic Greek food…mmm.

At days end, we finally made it, all the way along the great expanse of both the Huron and Superior lakes to arrive near the final edge of Ontario in Thunder Bay. We made reservations to stay in the Prince Arthur hotel, historic for being the first of its kind in this area, built by the same men who brought the railway here, around the turn of the century, in the shadow of the famous SLEEPING GIANT- a huge mass of granite hills along Lake Superior that collectively look like a slumbering creature with human features. The story goes that the native peoples’ god of the sea gave them the secret location of Ontario’s gold deposits but informed his faithful that if they divulged this information to the white man, that he would turn to stone and disappear forever from their sight. Well, with the SLEEPING GIANT still in his resting position, you would think the white man succeeded. Actually, at the “foot” of the giant supposedly lies the flooded entrance to the gold mines, forever unavailable to any who wish to seek their fortune there.

Thunder Bay proved to be a beautiful, if not slightly declining, city that reminded me of towns from my youth in Pennsylvania with the young people moving out, along with the businesses, leaving closed store fronts and vacant homes. We discussed “the life” in Thunder Bay with the locals and usually got the same response, “There is so much to do in the summer, this isn’t a really great time to be here.” Well, we will take their word for it because from everything we read in tourist brochures, they are correct. When the snow and ice disappears from this lakeside town, out come the Ontario tourists to enjoy all the natural beauty, camping, hiking, fishing, festivals, parks and all the other things about Thunder Bay Lisa and I will miss out on. Oh well, perhaps we will be back someday. Thanks greatly to our in-town informant and one of the best waitresses EVER, Ms. Megs! Can’t wait to see you in CR!

Check back with us in a few days, as there is so much more to read and see of Ryan and Lisa’s AWESOME (if not once again CHILLY) Adventure!

“Ms. L and Mr. R’s Incredible Northern Expedition” as originally printed in Harper’s Weekly, The Boston Globe and The Oaks Review- April 17th, 1892

“To those whose eyes rest upon these words, may the following lines feed your soul and enrich your heart.” –Mr. R

Author’s Preface-
Excuse the informal tone which I have adopted for the conveyance of my thoughts, but as the weather around my small, but hearty band of travelers has become less agreeable to any quill wanting ink, may I simply state for you, my gracious reader, the facts and nothing more. I can only hope my humble words are happily met by you, my unseen confidant, and you are regaled by the progress of Ms. L and Mr. R’s adventure as of late.

Entering the Wild North-
For over a month now, my travel companion, Ms. L, and I have been exploring this icy, but lovely land, held in its vast, chaffed bosom. We have found its customs, speak, and traditional delicacies to be strange yet filling, familiar yet entirely their own. From the very moment we were first met by the honorable and officious guardians of the country’s border, we (Ms. L and I) realized that we were definitely (to use a Plutonian quotation) “not in Athens anymore”. We came to the awe-inspiring “Peace Bridge”, newly constructed to be sure for its most modern girder construction of what seems to be iron, and followed the darkened, snowy highways into the unknown. The sometimes confusing signposts leading to Canada’s main metropolis, Toronto, made Ms. L’s navigational skills a welcome virtue…and within less than the time it took you to read the above lines, we were within the city herself.

Toronto-
Identifying the shimmering capital of this noble country was hardly difficult due a huge and conspicuous tower, created I am told by the conglomerate media group CBC, slicing the icy night sky with its magnificent, multi-coloured majesty. Ms. L and I found ourselves traveling upon one of the larger, well-kept thoroughfares of the city, Front Street, and then onto the oddly named Bloor, (I am guessing it must be a word from the indigenous peoples who first settled here), as directed by a friendly native who chattered its name from beneath his frosty parka. We drove our trusty white wagon to the doors of The Intercontinental Hotel, where Ms. L had arranged a room for us a week prior, ready for a hot supper and warm beds… little did we know that the inn had been overbooked! The staff was more than apologetic, and in response Ms. L and I were truly gracious, as they arranged for us some lodging mere meters from where we stood at the Hyatt Park Place. Aided by a valet, Ms. L and I exited and unloaded our transport with great ease then met with the establishment’s manager on duty, a Mr. George, who, already aware of our dilemma, made great haste in preparing our room with great aplomb…with one slight oversight- the room had but one bed!

(Author’s Note: If this fore-stated information has created a sense of shock to any ladies who may be espying my words, please excuse their utterance, but know, again, these are but simply facts and not meant to over-sensationalize this memoir.)

Thank Providence Mr. George was quickly called for and the corrected arrangements made available to us. Again Ms. L and I showed great mettle of character and politely ignored the inconvenience.

Wherein We Meet the Locales-
The next glorious dawn arrived and Ms. L made arrangements with our valet and some porters to repack our wagon. While in the lobby, she encountered a truly remarkable sight. Giants! Much to Ms. L’s surprise, this towering race of people were not simply the thing of myth and fertile minds’ whimsy but living, breathing personages who, upon spying Ms. L’s sensible brimmed hat with the embroidered words “Costa Rica”, inquired about her being in the frosty north and her career. In return these gentle giants informed Ms. L that they had traveled from New York City and were part of a nomadic clan that calls themselves the Knicks. I must confess to you that this tribal name holds no glimmer of recognition in my mind nor can I vivisect the meaning of the word “Knicks” to better understand its origin, but I must report that when Ms. L returned to our room she seemed in quite a state of excitement having heard of this group before (perhaps from an article in the New York Times) and was equally elated that they plan on journeying to Costa Rica for a future visit!

Soon after this adrenaline pumping experience, Ms. L and I ventured off once again in search of Toronto’s famed Metro Toronto Convention Center where we were to exhibit our recent findings from our extensive journey to beautiful Costa Rica and, most especially, The Oaks- an enormous luxurious acreage cum modern village, located near the Pacific Ocean’s coastline. In moments, we lone adventurers were traversing the corkscrew-like loading dock area of the Convention Center, meandering ever deeper, as if intrepid spelunkers, into the mineshaft-like darkness. Once fully arrived in the true bowels of this subterranean leviathan, Ms. L and I passed several workers in brightly coloured vests carrying electric torches, and talking loudly on portable telephones of some kind. Although thoroughly intrigued, Ms. L and I were determined to get to our destination and “make camp” for what was sure to be a productive exhibition.

We loaded a gurney provided us, and with our wares now piled from the wagon, wheeled said cargo through the labyrinthine hallways to the spot allotted us, soon realizing from the lack of fellow exhibitors about us, that this first convention day was going to be more placid than initially expected. Still, to the “early birds went the worms” as they say. The few of number but anxious of heart fully enjoyed questioning Ms. L and I about Costa Rica and all that The “now mythic” Oaks has to offer. Several fellow exhibitors also came by our “booth” to inquire about our adventures, seeking to peruse our pamphlets and view our most modern accessory, the pictorial slideshow, featuring images of beautiful Costa Rica.

Prior to day’s end, Ms. L and I were well met by the organizer of this most exclusive event, a Ms. Nancy, who offered us information about the inner workings of Toronto’s streets and nightlife. Providing us with a crude but useful map, Ms. Nancy was instrumental to locating affordable food stuffs and delicious locale cuisine. Following Ms. Nancy’s instructions, Ms. L and I discovered a nearby British-styled pub named The Fox and Fiddle in the heart of Toronto’s downtown (not to be confused with The Elephant and Castle, The Bull and Bear, The Bangers and Squeak, or any other of the other oddly dubbed restaurants of the area) where we enjoyed some traditional beefy fare and regaled all within earshot about The Oaks and Costa Rica. Happily sated and understandably fatigued, my companion and I made our way back to The Intercontinental where we were to lodge that evening. Much to our pleasure, the Intercontinental staff made some special arrangements for Ms. L and I to stay in a large suite with all the possible amenities at no additional charge for our previous inconvenience, leaving also a note of apology accompanied by some delicious chocolates and fruit for our enjoyment. Our Costa Rican companion, the Aroma Muchacho got the best of the fruit, as is his nature, while we of the more upright bipedal inclination enjoyed the rest. Before retiring, Ms. L and I visited the Intercontinental’s downstairs lounge where two very lovely and amiable ladies, a Ms. Gita and Ms. Susan, gave us even further locale history and tourist information while fawning over our dear friend, Aroma; giving him a spot of honor in the establishment.

Potential Investors Abound-
Our second day at The Learning Annex Exposition was more animated than the first immediately with “swarms” of excited investors descending upon Ms. L and my booth, ready with even more questions than can be answered by the Encyclopedia Britannica. Well ready and able, The Oaks Duo satisfied these anxious investors by plying them with multiple colored brochures, vibrant images of Costa Rica, and friendly, good humoured conversation. We learned from our newly found friend, Ms. Nancy, that the “guest of honour” of this convention, a Mr. D. Trump, was physicalely unavailable to meet his adoring conventioneers, but instead sent word that he would still be speaking to them remotely via something called “streaming feed”. The term itself, though utterly offensive to the ear, was quite an intriguing process wherein Mr. Trump appeared upon a scrim-like sheet affixed to the ceiling, while what I can only ascertain as a pre-recorded capturing of his voice could be heard throughout the convention hall speaking to the crowds’ desire for guidance toward their individual investment interests. I must confess I found the whole situation rather tacky, bordering on medieval spectacle, made worse by the fact that the honourable Mr. Trump’s wig seemed so askew, unkempt, and foppish. But I digress, being neither bastion nor slave to fashion myself. One last observation of the convention if I may: The whole “flow of the thing” seemed a bit piece-meal to me with conventioneers running hither and thither while, what I can only imagine as “uninvited” exhibitors or their minions, splayed their wares like “swine before pearls” in front of our booth! I must detest this kind of behaviour for swarthy competition such as this is that which no true gentleman would ever partake of! All in all , the day was a great boon to The Oaks Duo with our calling cards quickly dispensed of and allotted materials run out. Thanks once more to dear Ms. Nancy for her thoughtful care-package of confections and the like to boost Ms. L and my humours during the day! Pip Pip.

Taking in the Sights-
The next morning, with the convention now ended, Ms. L and I had some time to enjoy our new surroundings and see all that Toronto had to offer. Walking about the Yorkville area of downtown, bundled like Eskimo, The Oaks Duo needed to take some breakfast and found just the establishment- an “off the beaten path” bistro with the appropriate moniker, 7 West, indicating its location on the street. My companion, Ms. L, a dabbler in numerology, would have been more satisfied if it were called 8 West but we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves none the less. With real Canadian bacon, maple syrup, olive oil doused eggs (a Canadian specialty?), and some of the better coffee we had encountered on our adventure, we truly recommend finding this “out of the way” place for its quaint décor and deliciously prepared delights. Entirely satisfied with our meal, Ms. L and I continued on toward what I had read as the best and brightest of Canada’s Natural History Museums, the Royal Ontario Museum or ROM.

Mad Men, Monsters and More-
Upon seeing the architecture of this utterly modern building, with its mirrored crystalline windows and strange geometric forms jutting willy nilly, one is struck with the idea it must house quite the extensive and impressive collection within…and it does. From huge golden Buddha, perfectly preserved indigenous totem poles launching toward the heavens, recreated local settlements and medieval castles brimming with jewels and artifacts, this may be one of the most incredible institutions this humble chronicler has yet beheld! Ms. L and I wandered from exhibit to exhibit in pure rapture, commenting on this and that, when suddenly we were confronted with a sight unbelieved…Monsters! Dinosaurs to be more exact, but the reaction wasn’t any more mutable. There they stand before us, hundreds of prehistoric beasts, their remnants expertly reassembled in terrifying poses, lit by unearthly lights! Deadly, razor sharp teeth and formidable tails, some with barbs and spikes just waiting for weaker prey, grew from these skinless demons of the past inciting modern-day awe. I could tell Ms. L, also prone to amateur paleontology, was overcome with fascination, as was I. While exiting the museum, the two of us came upon one final exhibit, that of a dedication to the work of one Charles Darwin. Again, I wish not to shock any of my readers by fully detailing the accusations or assumptions put forth by this gentleman, who could easily be perceived a mad man, but his in-depth observations are intriguing. Over time he has documented the flora and fauna of a small, uninhabited island called Galapagos, the observations of which has lead him to conclude that all life on this planet has under gone subtle modifications based on environmental conditions creating the creatures we know today. Even more curious a concept than this, Mr. Darwin is of the belief that even man, in his placement as the sovereign benefactor of all Providences’ great gifts, was once no more intelligent or enlightened than the adorable Howler monkeys which Ms. L and I have observed frolicking in Costa Rica at The Oaks! Needless to say, this simple trip to Toronto has been an eye opening one!

There and Away Again-
Our business through and future Oaks family met, Ms. L and I packed our wagon again the next morning with all we could carry. Saying good-bye to lovely, metropolitan Toronto, we questioned the valet who assisted us from leaving the subterranean parking area below the Intercontinental about how best to drive on to Calgary in the Alberta province. We were quickly met with rolling eyes and a slight chuckle. It seems undertakings such as the one we attempting are unheard in Canada…and that, my devoted readers, is the difference between true pioneering adventurers and Sunday drive enthusiasts. So, it is onward and northward for The Oaks Duo with all our very best to you, our silent compatriots, as we further explore this grand and untamed country, the discovery of which we have just simply scratched the surface.

Until next we meet,
yours truly,

Thomas Ryan Ward!
Excelsior!

MEET OUR SMELLY FRIEND!

Everyone who comes to Costa Rica quickly learns there are many strange and wonderfully facets to this land’s culture. Here, for your consideration, is a legend handed down to me by my Aunt Betty from when she first made the trip- “The Legend of The Aroma Muchacho.” His name roughly translates to “The Smelly Friend”, suiting him well, as you will soon find out:

In 1998, I was visiting with my Aunt Betty or ¨Bad Betty¨, as she was called, enjoying a few relaxing days of summer vacation. ¨Bad Betty¨ got her name because of her love for good, cold beer on long, warm afternoons. One day as she was about to finish her second trusty six pack, she looked off into the setting sun and gave me a smile that always let you know she had a story to tell. I was about to lean over and ask her what was on her mind when she groggily chuckled and pointed off toward the horizon.


¨Ryan, this sunset reminds me of a time…I was about your age, when I went on vacation with a man I dearly loved. He asked me to join him on the trip of a lifetime, exploring many distant and exotic places, and being young and care-free, I went along. One of our many adventures found us in Costa Rica, where we visited many places along the Pacific Coast to enjoy some sailing and shopping. One small fishing village had a souvenir shop for the growing tourist set and sold carved images of local animals and jewelry made of shells. I went into the darkened shop and browsed some very beautiful pieces of woodworking until I found a really unusual carving that looked like a man, with the face of a monkey, holding what looked like a sandal. Now I’d seen all kinds of things on these trips, but for some reason this ugly creature captured my imagination and I brought it with me to the shopkeeper. I asked him what the trinket was and his eyes grew wide. He looked up at me and responded in very hushed tones.


¨Señorita ¨, he said with a hand resting to his lips, ¨this is a very especial carving for my people, very powerful and very sacred. It is one of our most ancient stories told for nearly as long as that tree has been alive!” The man pointed to a small bush, roughly a foot tall and then continued on with his tale. “This is the AROMA MUCHACHO!” At that moment, a sweet yet rotting smell wafted through the small store, unlike anything I had smelled before. “The Aroma Muchacho is a creature as revered by my people as he is feared! Sit with me, Señorita, and I will tell you the tale, very estrange, but TRUE! ¨

“Outside I heard a loud voice of a man yell ¨Pipa¨ on the foreign Papagayo winds and the shopkeeper handed me my very first Imperial Light, Costa Rica’s native drink. He then began like this:

When COSTA RICA was very young and unexplored, as far back as 1975, many a native Costa Rican told the story of the creature we have come to know as The Aroma Muchacho. It is said to awake very early in the mornings, just before the sun rises, to quietly creep into the village and take the people’s shoes in the night. But even estranger than this…it would only take one at a time! We are told he likes the smell of the shoes and will do anything he can to have them! For many ayears my people were plagued by his unending desire for our smelly shoes, until one man from far to the north came to town selling his Pipas or coconuts. The man walked the beach during the day selling these delicious fruits and would rest beneath the palm trees after a hard day’s work. Usually he would return to his home village but this day he worked extra hard with more Pipas than ever before…having only one left for himself. Many passersby warned the man to be careful for his shoes…they smelled especially bad from the long, hot day...but he said he did not believe in silly folk tales and did as he pleased. Well, the tired man slept through the whole night and in the morning awoke to make his way back home. Immediately he realized the Pipa he kept for his return trip was gone, but his pair of shoes were still together! That’s when he began calling out to all who could hear “Pipas! Pipas!” so they too would learn the secret to appeasing The Aroma Muchacho. A few days later, people from all over Costa Rica came together to discuss what they would do with this especially exciting news! Soon a fiesta was created where the people would bring their best fruits to one place and leave it for The Aroma Muchacho so he will leave our shoes alone…and it worked! From then on and until today, we are still meeting together for The Frutos Zapato, or The Fruit Shoe Festival (held annually at The Oaks), and The Aroma Muchacho has been never seen again. But, every once in a while you can smell him on the Papagayo Winds letting us know he is ready for either our fruit…or our SHOES!”


“I thanked the man immediately for the story, the beer, and paid him for the strange and wonderful statue, returning to my hotel on the hill. I placed the little figurine on the window near my patio and got ready for a date with the man I loved. After a lovely dinner and a walk on the beach, we enjoyed the perfect Costa Rican sunset, then a few drinks at the hotel bar. My gentleman friend walked me to my room a bit later than we both may have liked, kissed me sweetly in the moonlight, and bade me goodnight. I removed my sandals at the door and slipped into my bed and then into sleep. The next morning was yet another gorgeous day and I made some coffee, looking out at the ocean from my terrace. I decided I would bring my friend his morning cup and fixed a tray to bring with me. I stepped out my door, ready to put on my sandals, when I quickly realized that there, at my feet, was only one lone sandal and leading off toward the hill were large muddy footprints! To this day, I swear it is true and I will never forget that there are some things in this world that we may never quite understand. But when it comes to The Aroma Muchacho, I believe.”


“Bad Betty” then came out of her trance-like story, kissed me on the cheek, and made her way into the house to make dinner. Just then, my uncle came home from work and sat down next to me, pulling out an Imperial Light from some bags he carried. He looked at me, took a quick drink of the cold, golden brew, and then looked out to the nearly darkened sky, saying:


“Ryan, this sunset reminds me of a time...I was just about your age, when I fell madly in love with your Aunt Betty,,,”

And Away We Go...

The journey continues! Lisa and I made an early date with a ¨puddle jumper¨ from Tamarindo’s small but useful airport, greeted by the calls of our bovine friends and some early rising Howler monkeys. The process was quick and efficient, the staff, courteous and accommodating for all we newbie fliers, and as the tiny plane was heard above us, anticipation was palpable.

Moments after the ¨bird man¨, a gentleman employed to ride his scooter onto the landing field to scare away the local squatters, made his rounds, the plane came to an impressive pause and the group of waiting wingers piled in. Lisa and I hurried forward so as to get the front seats so we could watch the pilots go through their motions and feel comforted by their professional airs.

The flight to San Jose was a quick and relaxed one filled with images of the beautiful countryside (some parts I believe would never be seen otherwise), from rolling hills and lush mountains and plains to rivers, inlets, and islands just outside of the Nicoya Peninsula. Astounding! Our landing, with its expected mountain-wind turbulence, was amicable and exciting as we taxied toward the San Jose International airport. F.Y.I. look for the N.A.S.A. ¨tent¨, which either is doing weather balloon or satellite surveying or communicating with aliens… you deicide.

We were met by an industrious young man who aided us by bringing our luggage the short trip to our terminal, then made our way into the heart of the port itself. A few well spent hours later (of course filled with many moments spreading the good word of The Oaks), we were on the plane to Miami, and from there, on to our new adventure. When visiting the San Jose Airport, enjoy the musical stylings of a native gentleman on his guitar, with CD at hand for purchase, as he entertains waiting passengers with gorgeous acoustic versions of everything from Puccini and Vivaldi to Eric Clapton and Sarah McLaughlin.

The American Airlines fight to Miami was unremarkable at best in the best ways possible: fast trip, no turbulence, easy landing… and THEN we were herded into customs. The waiting lines for Non-Citizens, seemingly innumerous and unclogged, contrasted greatly against the overcrowded and labyrinthine queues for Actual Citizens, making me long for the easy-going nature of our Tico counterparts. After a good forty five minutes or more, Lisa and I passed through Homeland Security’s gaping maw to find our luggage in baggage claim. Other than the fact we were misinformed about which carousel our bags were to be arriving at, collecting the luggage was a rather simple process and we exited the terminal to catch a cab.

Lisa and I arrived at the Weston hotel to retrieve my truck (revved up to get this journey underway) when the valet at the establishment informed us that they could not find the keys to my ¨Rugged Chariot¨. In hindsight, we were hurried leaving the first time for the Miami airport and the fact that my truck was left alone in their care for over a month, but all logic disappears at 10:30 PM when you know you have an hour and a half drive in store! The Weston staff was as helpful and apologetic as possible and called for a locksmith to get us into the truck. Less than an hour later said specialist arrived and, after a quick diagnosis, returned to his warehouse with my ignition in hand. Another hour later he arrived back at the hotel with two new keys that worked only to start the car… NOT lock or unlock it. Pura Vida, eh? We promptly paid the man for his services (which in the end was less expensive that the proposed parking fee that the Weston thankfully dropped) and The Oaks Duo was on their way! Finally!

The drive to the ¨West Coast¨ of Florida was crisp and filled with mass amounts of music and talk radio so as to keep the sleep from my eyes. More often then not, the dial fell upon some rather strange late night sermons by Florida based pastors and liberal "crazies" whose statements made even this fairly open minded gent cringe. We arrived at our destination and settled into a pre-planned room at the Ramada by our newly found "Lakeland" (now Winter Haven) friend, C.J., who was already well on her way to dreamland when we arrived. We slipped into our respective beds and followed suit. The next morning our Trio ventured over to the local JEEP dealer to purchase the 2002 Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited that Lisa and I had had our eyes on since we first surfed the web for adequate and affordable transportation... and there it was. A few minutes of haggling and a bank trip to acquire the necessary funds later, we were driving off in The OAKS JEEP! Yippy! We attempted a drive to Fort Myers Beach to "soak up the atmosphere" but found even the road to get there far too overcrowded (unlike at The OAKS where you are mere moments from the FIVE BEST BEACHES in Costa Rica!) and decided to make other plans. Lunch!

The MacGregor Cafe in Fort Myers was the spot chosen for its outdoor patio and delicious sandwiches (special thanks to our Latina friend for her aesthetic abilities on the apple pie with vanilla ice cream, garnished with mini strawberry cake morsels!) C.J. and I then took a jaunt to my old abode to pack my belongings (more than I expected) to meet Lisa at her personal Mecca, Wal-mart. By the time we arrived, she had collected all the items we would need over the course of the next few days. Just as I was trying on some new cargo shorts (or what we call "The Lisa Jo Uniform"), Lisa's cart was mistakenly absconded away by a fellow shopper and we had to make a mad dash to seek it out. Twenty minutes later, we had discovered the lost cargo and made a hasty exit for the check out. Paid up, packed up, and settled in for our trip, the three of us made our way to Winter Haven, FL for a good night's sleep before we would continue on to Columbia, South Carolina to spend Easter with my parents and connect with the Auto Wrapping Specialist for our newly acquired vehicle!

We made camp at C.J.'s condo that evening and enjoyed some light guitar playing and story telling on the patio, accompanied by our mascot, The Aroma Muchacho! All I can say is that that Aroma loves to tell a tale, for he kept us up a bit too late! In the end, we made it to bed and dozed well for the next morning's journey!

There is MUCH more to come of Lisa's and Ryan's (EXCELLENT and getting CHILLY) Adventure!

I´M A RUBBER BALL

Ah, the tale of Lisa’s balls is one that should not be forgotten, as it plays out as a metaphor for all we attempt to do. We have all heard the statement, ¨One man’s trash is another’s treasure.¨ Well sometimes people don’t know what they really want or need until it you thrust it upon them… and that’s just what happened with Lisa’s squeaky balls.

Imagine if you will three fairly unassuming rubber balls with squeaky toy inserts that came into Lisa’s possession after a trip to the now famed Auto Mercado to replace some inadequate golf balls used for juggling. Juggling comes in many forms for us all: work, play, love, life… and these newly acquired rubber balls fit the bill for Lisa’s figurative and literal needs. But, oh, the story doesn’t end there.

As we savored our time at La Colina, the balls found a new purpose in the hands of our friends Ken, Duffy and later Mario and the boys from Milwaukee. Yes, in a pinch a handful of rubber balls makes for hours of fun, fun, fun. As I attempted to explain to anyone within earshot, the sounds issuing forth from the pool ¨slap, swoosh, slap, swoosh¨ were music to our ears of the fun enjoyed by all.

This is but a small moment in our adventures, one that may seem a tame remembrance in the memoirs I have added for all to read, but as I stated before, the story of the balls is one that speaks of what life in Costa Rica can really become… as charming and simple, relaxed and poignant as moments drift by into incredible memories. To paraphrase The Bard a bit for my own end: ¨If Rubber balls be food of life, Play on, boys! Play on!¨