While justifiably scary to most parents, the numbers themselves are small  Still, it bears spending some time learning about this parasite.

Basically, the whole process starts with rats. Rats become infected and pass larvae in their feces. Slugs and snails come in contact with the feces and they then become infected. The disease is passed to humans while eating undercooked snails or possibly on vegetables that either have small snails on them or perhaps have not been thoroughly washed. I say perhaps, because the Center for Disease Control (CDC) states “There is some question whether or not larvae can exit the infected mollusks in slime”.  Some here think that just contact with the slime of a slug can infect a person, maybe by just crawling around on a lettuce leaf, but clearly there is no proof of this. More likely would be ingesting a tiny snail in your salad.  Either way, wash those veggies!

I know little about escargot, but I know a ton of folks who dote on it. I tried it once and liked it, but then if you put enough garlic on a shoe, I’d probably like it equally. I also think special snails are used in preparing escargot.  Probably went to prep school or something… but just the same, I think thorough cooking is called for.

Kids, however, can find slugs and snails to be fascinating. They pick them up and think they might make fine pets.  A few weeks ago, however, a little boy (15 months) died after eating a slug. He passed after spending  two week in Childrens Hospital.. The larvae do just terrible things to a child’s intestines.

Interestingly, all of the kids involved lived either in San Jose or Alajuela. I say interestingly as, in general, Cost Rica’s normally nasty critters and bugs live on the coasts or the rain forests where the tropical heat provides a better environment.

This all starts with the rats, of course, so in addition to the cautions above, make sure there is no thriving rat population near you.

I pack snacks; drive; wait; drive; empty snack packs and repeat.

My kids are exhausted, and so am I. I wonder if all this running around amounts to anything other than bags under our eyes. The problem is the hook. What’s the hook?

I laugh at the plays. I cry at the ballet performance. I’m a sucker for anyone, or anything, giving it “their all.” My eyes well up the moment I see the effort; the moment performers – ballerina, thespians, dolphins, volleyball players – take to the stage, field, or course.

It’s like that great shot in golf. The entire game may suck, but then on that one hole, you step up and whack….it’s a perfect shot…and you’re hooked. You return to play again despite it all.

When anybody gives it their best shot, reel me in because I’m hooked.

Although I am fluent in Spanish, given that I was raised in the states, I have little in common with my neighbors. The transition has not been a smooth one. There have been things to endure and become accustomed to that nearly sent me back to the states. I would have to say that the hallmark of my frustration so far has been that nothing here functions effieciently. Nothing. If you go to a government office during its regular office hours, it may be open. But then again, it may be closed. If someone makes an appointment with you, they may show up but then again, they may not. It seems that there is little regulation here and even less consistency. It may be different in the big cities but I am living in the middle of a jungle, outside of a small town.

After spending my first six weeks here either fighting this reality or letting it upset me, I have surrendered to it. I have even begun to appreciate aspects of it. I realize that there is an abundance of personal freedom here that is completely new to me. I see things here I have never seen before. For instance, ashtrays in restaurants and hospitals! People are allowed to smoke here! People are allowed to open a little soda (cafe) on the patio of their house. Or build a little convenience store in the yard in front of their house. People are allowed to be resourceful and do whatever they can to improve their little corner of the world.

But there are also things that are absolutely not allowed. For instance, children are not allowed to be disrespectful. Can you believe it? Not to teachers, parents or ANY adult. I had forgotten that there are entire cultures that still raise children to respect adults. Since I arrived, I have not seen a single child interrupt an adult conversation. The children I have met here have been, without exception, respectful, friendly, and downright charming! Now, I’m not saying that there are no polite children in the states. After all, I have two sons who are quite polite and most of my friends raise their children well, but most parenting in the states has changed quite a bit since I was a kid. It has surprised me how much I have enjoy the Tico children in my little jungle community where we are the only ‘white’ people. Frequently when I take a walk, I will find myself accompanied by several of the children who tag along and pick flowers for me and ask me how to say different things in English. It is no wonder that the ‘Ticos’ are a charming people. They are raised to be.

So if I have traded efficiency and convenience for a culture of charming people and achingly beautiful jungles, I think I have received much more than I gave up.

Her bio indicates she likes Books, politics, cookbooks, travel, and knitting. It also indicates she likes chocolate. Having visited her Blog and seen her picture, it is clear that this is just nonsense. No serious chocolate lover could look like that. She probably doesn’t even sweat on the stairmaster either.

Welcome Nora! Now write something!

If I am running a little late or need just a second to gather keys, phone, money, bottle, diapers before we leave (for even the smallest of trips), I can safely put Addison in the car and he happily chats away while kicking his feet up and down and anticipating whatever journey we are going to take. If I am not taking Addison in the car, we have to sneak out the side door or he starts to cry when he sees the car pull away, which breaks everybody’s heart.

My daughter now loves the car, but once and awhile will throw up, just for old time’s sake. I’ve found one of the easiest ways to entertain the kids on a Saturday night is to load them up in the car, throw on the rain coats, and slurp down some Italian Ice at the cafe down the street (Costa Rica is growing up in gourmet!).

It just takes so little to please a kid, and me for that matter, most of all it is about feeling safe and knowing exploration is welcome; discovery is paramount; and raspberry ice a must.

I loved that show. No, I’d say it was almost religion. (I’m being satirical here.) I didn’t miss an episode. And, I felt like a regular when I placed myself on the couch to watch it every week. I was so sad to see it go, but I forged on.

When I arrived here nine years ago, Costa Rica was my Cheers. I worked for years to develop a neighborhood, “regulars,” a system, and a routine where I felt at home. Many began to know my name.

My show was cancelled. Like Frasier, Ted, and Carla, I found myself written out of the script I had written. In other words, in a matter of very short time, I became a single mother in a foreign country, and of course as many of you know, my son has Down Syndrome.

How did all this happen so fast? This is not as important of the new
life ahead of me.

So, I’ve developed a “spin-off.” There are a few new characters in my play, and a few old familiar faces. My name has changed, but really, I’m still the same. With a few changes to the script, the stories will continue. I’m staying in Costa Rica, and “belly-ing” up to the bar for the new and exciting episodes.

By the way, instead of Susan Carmichael, you can now call me Susan Lutz.

Thanks for tuning in.

To divert his attention from me, we turn on the rock and roll. Addison sits in front of the CD player and wiggles his hands in the air, claps, and scoots. Today, he figured how to turn up the volume.

So, Elvis and the Beach Boys live on – right on into the jungle.

This was submitted to me complete with a great photo by Ronna von Knorring, a transplant from Kansas who blogs here.

As a fair number of my readers seem to be very curious about the creepie crawlies who live here (no, I am NOT talking about those guys hanging around the bars in Jaco), I thought I’d publish her submission! Enjoy!

I don’t know much about these beautiful caterpillars other than that the have a nasty sting. They were out in FORCE on our southern Pacific coastline property in Costa Rica in October 2005. They seemed to really enjoy eating the leaves from our balsa tree as well as crawl into our home. We would find them making their cocoons in the strangest places like a fold in a hammock, in a dark corner near our ceiling and in tarps hanging here and there.

I had seen enough shows on the Discovery Channel to know that the “flashier” and “brighter” some animals and insects are, the more harm they can cause. Having encountered another fancy caterpillar previously that I got too close to, I knew to leave these well enough alone.

One day I was at our outdoor sink when I saw one that had fallen from the tree overhead. Not wanting for it to be in a place where it couldn’t get out, I picked up a nearby leaf and scooted the beauty on to it. As I attempted to toss the leaf and caterpillar over our hedge, I got struck by one of the barbs. OUCH!

They really pack a punch. I instantly felt the pain that is similar to a wasp sting. The intensity lasted about 10 minutes.
I’ve seen pictures of the Morpho Butterfly (the blue one) in its caterpillar stage, and it is even more extravagant looking than this one. As beautiful as they both are, and as “soft” as their spikes might seem to the touch, stay away from these, and other, character filled creatures.

For readers who want to learn more about the various bugs, snakes and other critters, check out The Real Costa Rica.

When we got back to our house, Coco told the nanny about our find. The nanny couldn’t believe our luck.

You are so lucky Coco! She said. My mother told me that you can only find a shell like that once in a lifetime. It is a blessing to find one.

Coco looked as if she had been dipped in precious metal. She glittered with pride and joy. She reached her hand in the bag to reveal her prize. The sand dollar was smashed to itty, bitty pieces. Turns out they are really fragile. Really fragile.

The TEARS!! Oh, the tears. Coco would have cried anyway, she gets quite attached, quite quickly to things. But the nanny’s story topped it. Added that extra zing to her despair.

Our friend, MyBoy (yes this is his real name), came by the next day. He was told the whole sorry tale of the crushed sanddollar.

Oh, those. He said. When the sea is calm you can find them all over.

And the next day we found sand dollars dead; we found them alive. When they’re alive you can tickle their feet, which are like little fuzzy combs, and they move. Coco found four sand dollars. But, she didn’t throw them in the bag. We carefully cupped one in each hand.

Just when you think you’re blessing been crushed on the bottom of a ziplock bag, life blooms hopeful again.

The doctor’s flute playing has improved. The first time he played for me, I was visiting him for an intestinal virus that knocked me down and bowled me over. A few years before, I’d had the same virus and suffered for a week until a conventional doctor found a drug that would work. I wasn’t going through that again, and since I had discovered acupuncture through a problem with my daughter’s teeth, I figured why not?

True, it costs some time and then there is the approximately $20.00 a visit and then there’s the flute playing, but it seems a rational, logical, and simple option to dabble with. And if it works: BRAVO! Problem solved. And if not: the doctors are always ready and willing to dispense the proper drug. So, in my book, why not give it a go.

I’d rather ramble down the road less traveled for a trip of pain relief rather than run right down the highway to the big beast of conventional medicine. – I’m not crazy, I don’ want it to go away. In fact – thank goodness it’s there! My son wouldn’t be alive without it. But I like to save their wisdom for the few and far between.

Last week, I got several massages in my home to help alleviate a pinched nerve in my neck. The woman came right to my home. The cost: $10.00 for each visit. This woman was so considerate and concerned about my neck that alone may have dissipated some of the tension. About half way through the massage, she leaned over and whispered in my ear:

Do you want me to put a chair on your back?

I looked around our cluttered guest room and wondered which chair she wanted to put on my back and how exactly a chair would help in solving my pinched nerve problem.

I repeated the word chair:

A silla? (pronouned seee ya)

She bent over and whispered again:

Arcilla (pronounced ar seee ya)

I thought for awhile….where did I know that word from? Oh yes, I know! It means clay -
she wanted to put a clay wrap on my back. Of course, I said. Clay.

The kink in my neck is gone; my daughter’s teeth are coming along beautifully; even that intestinal virus went away (the next day, and I’m not kidding!); and the little cysts in my neck will most likely dissolve with just a few more melodies on the flute.