ARRIVAL

After such weeks of preparation, there was a certain point at which I had to "let go" - in two respects. First, because of a sense of control I was in danger of falsely imposing on the family's reactions and experiences. The first day of readings out of our Trip Book helped me get over this, when I saw how the girls had taken things to heart. Second, the false sense of control I was imposing on my own impressions. As we got under way, all five of us gathered across the rows of an aircraft aloft, or muddling through an equipment delay, the expectations and closely timed waymarks of the coming week telescoped abruptly in my mind, and I realized there was a universe of difference between "plans" and the real thing. I really had to let go and "be" in it.

My uncle, on seeing the early, preparatory, version of this web site, had asked whether this degree of preparation wasn't going to take some of the fun and adventure out of things.... Well, you can judge for yourself. Certainly, we made some choices - expensive ones - that resulted in a holiday that was less "risky" and more "comfortable" than might otherwise have been the case. I realized - actually too late - that accommodations at a rate that is considered merely reasonable in the US ($40-$60/night) were pretty deluxe by Costa Rican standards. Next time I might be tempted to choose cheaper places. As well, we chose to rent an SUV for the full week. In fact, this was a necessity for getting to the Finca in Guanacaste; but there was plenty of evidence that what we'd read was true: a successful and economical holiday can be had by relying on buses, and where necessary, short interior hops by plane.

After we were put onto our replacement aircraft in Miami - two hours late - we really felt launched into this adventure. We landed at the chief airport serving San Jose (but which is actually in neighboring Alajuela) and emerged into a momentarily confusing scene - there didn't seem to be much "lobby" area after we picked up our baggage and exited customs, and without fanfare felt ourselves hustled out into a faintly threatening gauntlet of taxi hawkers and hangers-on. Many of these spoke English and offered all kinds of advice and help, and there was long awkward moment as I - we - tried to ascertain whether the Elegante rental representative was still there for us. Much as I'd expected, he was long gone (I had tried to call their office from Miami, but hadn't been able to leave a message).

Finally I gravitated toward a driver for one of the "red" cabs we had been advised to favor (actually, a deep cadmium orange), and with one other passenger, a single man, in the van, we rocketed off into the warm Alajuela night. The man was dropped off first, at an inn in downtown Alajuela, and then circling back through a maze of one-way streets with shuttered businesses, we exited the city limits and started up into the hills. Before long we took a couple of sharp hairpin turns, and pulled up in front of an imposing set of gates, a stucco mansion beyond. Illuminated by the van's headlamps, a guard came out of the shadows and unquestioningly opened the gates for us. He wore a pistol.

Inside the Buena Vista, all was still, the desk vacant, but when I came in from paying the driver, the family showed me the chalkboard they'd found propped on the counter: "Welcome Vanpelt's - here are your keys. Breakfast is at 8am." A most agreeable welcome, and a foreshadowing of every generous, welcoming act we experienced throughout our visit.

The girls loved the fact that our rooms opened onto a cloistered corridor that at one end felt like part of the hotel interior, but which at the other end opened onto the little interior garden and pool. And though our original schedule called for an early departure, we were all very grateful to spend a more leisurely morning getting acclimated, eating a fine breakfast of tropical fruits, and lounging by the pool.

Well, some of us got to do that - Alexis and I were picked up by a driver sent by Elegante, and went back down into Alajuela to collect the rental. I carefully memorized as much as I could of the route, correlating it with notes I had gotten from Buena Vista, as well as with our experience of the previous evening. We recognized the town plaza with the large white-washed tree trunks which had loomed ghostly in the night, and that now was filled with prosperous-looking office workers, school children, and pensioners. The rental pickup went without a hitch - the car a new Nissan Pathfinder with less than 3000 km on it - and provided with yet another map, Alexis and I - the two with the weakest bumps-for-locality in our family - made it back up to the hotel in time for a last dip before checking out and heading northwest.

The Hotel Buena Vista was indeed aptly named; we all thrilled - after our late, dark, somewhat confused arrival - at the brilliant profusion of color and the expansive view across a near hillside of pineapple, a farther hillside of coffee terraces, and more distantly the wide valley to the south and west, and the smog marking the fringes of San Jose proper.