by Christina Ramirez

I love to travel within Costa Rica, and when my daughter gently reminded me that vacation was soon to be over, we both knew we should go somewhere. We packed that same day, a change of clothes, pajamas and our swimsuits. Since we headed out pretty late, we didn't end up leaving the bus terminal till about 5:30. Actually, we never made it to the terminal, because as we stepped out of the supermarket the bus was already chugging along. We waved the chofer down and he stopped just long enough for us to skip up the steps. We paid 1,050 colones for the 40 minute trip to the home of my sister-in-law, Xinia, in the mountains of Zarcero. Even though we arrived after nightfall we decided to walk the half kilometer on the ridge of the mountain to her house so that we could enjoy the incredible full moon and the night sky full of stars. Zarcero is one of the coldest places in Costa Rica, located on the highway between Alajuela and San Carlos. With the pureblood Holstein cows speckling the fields, it always reminds me of green pastures in some European country.

As we were dressed for San Carlos in short sleeved shirts, we were very happy to arrive at Xinia's warm house and wrap ourselves in a blanket on her couch in the living room. My mother-in-law, Ines, warmed up a bowl of soup for us too. Xinia has a two-year-old daughter, born a preemie, who suffered from a heart attack when she was only a few months olds and can hardly move. Today was an extra special day because they just got back from a San José clinic that had donated a special baby wheelchair. We all pray that she continues to develop motor skills and will soon be able to sit by herself. As we all settled in for the night, my daughter and I planned to go visit more relatives in Grecia the next morning. We hope Xinia can drive us part way so that we don't have to take the two buses to Grecia. We'll see what tomorrow holds -- hopefully a nice day at the pool!

The ring of the telephone woke us all at about 10:30 pm. Ines's sister Tia Carmen called after spending the day at the hospital with Don Victor, Ines's dad, my husband's abuelito. He had suddenly become blind and wasn't eating or sleeping. He says that he's 96 years old, but his identification cards all say he's 93. He used to talk for hours with my husband, Hector, about cattle, farms and all the good old times. We decided to accompany Ines to visit Abuelito Victor and find out what was going on. Flor and Grace, two other sisters-in-law, also wanted to go, so we hopped in a taxi from Zarcero to Sarchi to pick up Flor, then to Grecia to pick up Grace and her daughter who is 8 years old (I was glad my daughter would have some company!). The taxi charged us 7,000 colones for the whole route and left us at the Grecia bus terminal to catch the next bus to San José.

There is nothing fun about going into San José. Every rural resident detests it because of the poverty, pollution and general ugliness of the town. San Josefinos would argue and say that it is the heart of Costa Rica, but because 10 years ago I started in San José looking for the true heart of Costa Rica and couldn't find it there, I beg to differ.

We caught the noon bus direct from Grecia to San José for about 1000 colones and settled in the comfortable seats. Grace and I sat together and our two daughters sat together too. My daughter is quiet, with straight dark hair and generally sweet, and Grace's daughter is loud, curly blond-haired and a goof-ball. They had heads turning the whole time, and they not even teens yet! Grace and I settled into a deep conversation about our husbands, and the dark bus delved into the bright starkness of the city. When we got off at our stop in Paseo Colon we hailed a cab to travel to a suburb of the city. As we rambled past jumbles of houses and shops, I couldn't stop thinking that the cities of the USA, Mexico and Central America are similar in that there are always pockets of dangerous-looking gangs that you see on the sidewalks even in broad daylight.

Abuelito Victor was taking off his clothes when we arrived. This was not a good sign. He refused to talk, eat or behave and was quickly deteriorating. My mother-in-law cried with her dad for a while and I couldn't help but hope that I will be able to be with my dad in his last days. My parents live in San Diego, California and I've always hoped that we will all be close as life goes on, but as everyone learns in bicultural marriages, you usually have to choose which family lives closest. At about 10 pm last night we got the call that Abuelo Victor had passed away. My mother-in-law and many of the relatives had gone to see him in the hospital all day yesterday, but he had slipped into unconsciousness, was breathing with machines and was dying. Until a few weeks ago he had been able to eat by himself, bathe himself with help and walk with a metal walker, but everyone said they were glad he didn't have to suffer for too long.

Suffer? He was a man that had suffered all his life, but very proud to let on about that. Around 1965 when the local midwife had told him not to let his wife have any more babies and she did, he watched as his wife bled to death in childbirth. He was very strict and always drove his children to excellence on all fronts, so it must have been heart-breaking for him to see some of his children turn their backs on their own children, end up in jail, or immigrate to the USA to stay forever. He was a man from a different century, when girls only had enough education to read and write, when real men insisted on running a strict household, when cattle ranching and land made a man rich. After his wife died, he sold his farm and moved to San José, capital of Costa Rica. He worked in Paseo Colon for many years and met many professionals (men and women!), foreigners and interesting people. He loved to learn new things and was admired for his honesty and honor. Anyone who is living learns that part of life is suffering, but only the wise figure out how to use it as a challenge to grow into a better person, as did Abuelito Victor.

Today, Sunday, many relatives came together to build his tomb, made out of concrete and rebar; some came to cook food and serve, and some came to give emotional support to each other. He wanted to be buried next to his wife in Jicarito, San Carlos, a small rural town about an hour away from La Fortuna, so all the relatives from San José and the Central Valley rented a small bus and came to see him rest. At about 4 pm we had Mass for him.

We then followed the casket out through the street to the cemetery.

At the cemetery there is a small covered chapel where people could say goodbye to him for the last time.

Finally, he is buried in the unfinished tico-style mausoleum. The mausoleum holds as many relatives as needed and is usually finished with ceramic tiling on the outside.

This article is one of a series on life in the campo, or country living in Costa Rica, as my wife and I experienced it on our visits and after moving to Costa Rica. When visiting Costa Rica, we used to stay with our then-manager's family. He is Costa Rican, and Christina is his wife. We are Fred and Amy Morgan, originally from the US, and we bought a dairy farm in Costa Rica to plant trees in its pastures, then later caught a dream of turning all the land we can to permanently protected, sustainably maintained forest once the plantation trees have been harvested for profit. To read more about Finca Leola S.A. and how you can also invest in trees and at the same time help with reforestation, go to Own Trees with Us.

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