Breakfast was funny. The waiter had a paper and pen in his hand, but he didn't write our orders down. He tried to keep it in his head, but he kept getting it mixed up. The breakfast menu was simple too, but obviously not simple enough: gallo pinto, and then your choice of two items: either eggs, salchicha (sausage, i.e. hot dog), or cheese. He seemed a bit distracted, and after he left I commented that he should just bring it out family style, which is exactly what he wound up doing. He probably got into the kitchen and then realized he didn't have it straight and didn't want to come out and ask us one more time. The breakfast came with juice or coffee. Three of us picked coffee, but Bella and Sofia got the juice, which turned out to be Tang. CR just cant get OJ right. Yep, I'm an OJ snob from Florida, I know.
We checked out of Hotel Teffany and headed to the farm.
The farmhouse mostly seemed like I remembered it. Cleaner, maybe. Emptier. Lots more dogs now. Cristina's aunt has a caretaker who lives there when they aren't there (or maybe all the time, I don't know). He let us look around the house (the parts that weren't locked off). Cristina and Ramon traded memories. We looked at the pictures on the wall. Several of Wito as a young buckadoo.
We walked around the grounds. The dogs followed us through the gate and made a beeline for the creek (it was really hot). We looked at fruit trees and ant paths. We watched the dogs splash in the creek. More memories.
Before we left, Cristina went across the street to see if Marguerita still lived there or was home. Marguerita was the wife of the ranch hand (ranch master?), Chimino, who worked for Cristina's grandparents for decades. Cristina has fond memories of Chimino, his wife and his children, who were about her age. Cristina played with the daughters when she was a kid.
It turned out Marguerita still lived there, was home, along with one of her daughters (also named Marguerita) and her family. So we were introduced to them all, and they invited us to dinner at 5 pm (it was about 2pm).
We left Ramon at the farmhouse (he didn't want to risk the border with no passport) and headed the 5 miles or so to Paso Canoas, the border town between CR and Panama. Not surprisingly, it seemed bigger and more developed than 25 years ago. We found a public parking lot, bought some drinks at a grocery, and then hit the shops. We didn't really have much of a shopping list. Alex was looking for a new pair of sunglasses (his broke). He found some for $3 (and tried to talk her lower...good man). He also looked for a CR soccer jersey, but they mostly had Panama jerseys, or CR jerseys in a color he didn't want.
I needed to get some cash from an ATM, so we walked towards the bank and came across a massive store that straddled the border. One entrance was CR, the other was Panama. Because we hadn't done the border-crossing paperwork, we couldn't exit the Panama side, I think. Because Panama's currency is the US dollar, all the prices in the store were listed in dollars. And it was cheeeeeeap. You realize how expensive CR has gotten when you go into a bordertown store and see Panamanian prices. So we kind of went crazy, stocking up on groceries for the next time we had a kitchen, and lots of snacks. I even snagged myself some spicy chicken ramen. Why is that not a thing in the States? I marveled longingly at the price of ice cream. It was dirt cheap, and big containers too. Not sure why ice cream is so freaking expensive in CR...
Oh yeah. The real reason we came into this store was not to buy cocktail peanuts and instant cappuccino. It was to find flowers to bring to dinner. Which we found and purchased.
We got our cash from the ATM and bid adieu to Paso Canoas. For the next three weeks, I will remember that store whenever I grocery shop in CR...
At dinner, Marguerita's (the younger) husband grilled pork and served it with tortillas, shredded cabbage, and pica de gallo. Sofia and I are connoisseurs of pico de gallo type salsas, and having recently made a batch from scratch, I was curious how Marguerita made hers. So I picked her brain, made notes in my phone, and promised I would soon try her slight tweak on a simple favorite. I also made mental notes of how he was grilling the meat. Alex and I wanted to replicate this barbecue.
The strangest thing about this dinner was how they kept serving us but they weren't eating. It turns out that it's a cultural thing. Since they worked for Cristina's family, I guess it would have been awkward for them to eat with us, like equals. Which is sad to me, but to them I think it's more a sign of respect. Since my Spanish is so poor, other than the times when I asked them for their cooking tips, I mostly just sat with my kids and stuffed my face with the delicious pork tacos. Cristina sat with Marguerita (the elder) throughout the evening because she too realized they were not eating with us, but were instead feeding us. That was Cristina's way of bridging the gap between the history of the two families and their places on the social ladder.
We stayed for over four hours, until Cristina could find a way to leave that didn't feel rude. I'm glad she was able to connect with them as much as she did.
We had planned on a drive-thru pass of Ciudad Neily, the town near the farm where Cristina had more memories (mostly of the "going into town with the grandparents" variety). But it was so late, and we were all pretty tired. And right before we got to the town, just as we started to cross the bridge, a group of teenagers stepped in front and barricaded the road. Sigh. I'm getting used tpo this, so as soon as I saw it, I just turned off the engine. After 15 minutes or so, they told us it would only be for five more minutes. This one seemed far less organized. It was more like it was the cool thing to do for teenagers, but they were doing it more for the social aspect than the activism. Their five minutes was more like 10, but we finally got going. We still did a quick drive through Ciudad Neily, but it was dark and the kids didn't really care what grocery store Cristina's grandparents used to go to.
We got back to our hotel, took hot showers and wondered how we were going to fit all the Panamanian groceries in the car the next day.
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