Off the tourist trail in San Jose

If you find mention of Barrio Mexico in the travel guides it comes with the warning of danger.....
Absolute fiddlesticks! You wouldn't walk about there at night, but that goes for a lot of more supposedly salubrious places as well....like Gringo Gulch in the centre of the city where the would be sex exploiters meet with the would be wallet expropriators in a ritual danse macabre.

It's well worth a visit in daylight if you enjoy architecture.....dilapidated, beaten down but still unbowed, art deco rules in Barrio Mexico...as the following photographs show:

 

 

 

 

Not only in Barrio Mexico, but in more central areas too...

 

While art nouveau is not lacking either

The house above is being restored after years of neglect as part of San Jose's plans to make the city once again the attractive centre of art and culture that once it was.

All over the city there are enclaves of super architecture....sometimes one house surviving in a street, sometimes a group....so a walk through the city promotes not only corpore sano but also mens sana.

Just steer clear of Gringo Gulch....

 



 

photographs of San Jose

I thought we might have a wander round San Jose, so first we'll drive into the city...keeping our eyes well open...





 

 

and yes, that is indeed a train you see in the middle of the road. Narrow gauge trains run through the streets at rush hours, transporting commuters  to and from their places of employment.

 

There are no level crossings, gates, or lights, the trains advertising their presence by ringing bells, blasting sirens or hooting mournfully depending on the engine involved.

It does not do to be listening to your music player, plugs in ears, while crossing the lines unless you harbour a death wish.

On the other hand they are a great incentive to drivers not to tailgate in heavy traffic, thus alleviating the gridlock that is the curse of San Jose.

 

The gridlock could have been eased had the  council not taken it into its head to revamp several of the main traffic arteries at the same time and had it thought to instruct its sub contractors not to allow their diggers to break into the water mains as the gridlocked driver is not noticeably comforted by the sight of the resulting fountains.

Nor by the presence in the road of concrete manhole covers (the metal ones having been stolen for scrap) pushed up by the force of water.

 

Still, it will all be over soon. The mayor will either be selected as his party's presidential candiate...in which case the money will be diverted to campaigning...or he won't......in which case he will prefer the city to be a bit run down so that he can point the finger at the new regime.

 

San Jose is pretty compact...look down almost any street and you will have a view of the mountains which encircle it....so a morning's walk will take you over most of it and if the legs are weary the buses are cheap.

Pensioners travel at reduced cost or free, the idea being to encourage people to get out of their houses and keep lively, thus free admission to museums and galleries and reduced entrance to the theatres.
Balm to the decrepit Scottish heart....

There is the public architecture...like the central Post Office

The National Theatre

Or the National Museum, originally a nineteenth century fortress built to control the turbulent 'Josefinos' as the inhabitants are called. These days, instead of being greeted by sentries you enter the buildings through a cloud of butterflies in the plant filled entrance. Pure magic.

 

Religious architecture, like the Merced church

Or the domes of HolyTrinity floating over Barrio Mexico

A stunning contrast to the tin sheets covering the facades of the buildings below. Which do not exist on the upmarket Barrio Amon, where the coffee barons built their mansions and which now is home to sex tourists and druggies. Still looks good though.



Or here...

And

Before walking away into Barrio Otoya, past the Foreign Ministry building, Casa Amarilla.

 



I lost my heart to a house in Barrio Otoya....from the outside....but it was not to be!

 

Time for lunch down in my Barrio.....at the taxi drivers' caff, open from morning to night. Good cheap food, freshest possible ingredients and a cook who can astonish you with her versatility.



 

And just yards away from my house.......so off for a siesta before resuming the tour another time.

 



 



 



 

 

 

 

 



 



 

While The Men are Away...

The Men are away...so far for two whole days....and it might be three.
They have started the renovations on our house in San Jose and rather than waste time travelling have decided to stay overnight.

They have installed beds, table and chairs, gas ring and a tin opener for the cans of fish which they intend to consume...a diet sure to be supplemented by the offerings of pizza and coffee at the bakery down the road, Argentinian empanadas from the hole in the wall three doors away, dim sum from the China House restaurant round the corner...and perhaps even a beer at the bar across the road.

Not the least attraction of the house is the opportunity it presents not only not to cook...but the opportunity to have the choice of styles of  other peoples' cooking.

I went to San Jose with them on the first morning...not to the house, but to the tax office, avoiding navigational disaster by demanding to be set down by the cemetery rather than trying to drive directly to the building.
They went their way and I went mine.

As it was the first opening day after New Year, there were no queues.
A most helpful gentleman listened to my explanation as to why my tax declaration was late...swallowed by the bank...and entered all the details onto my computerised file. He then gave me a disc with which to download the electronic version of the declaration, showed me how to get round two notable glitches in the programme and sent me on my way without a fine for late declaration.

The people at French tax offices used to be nice too...but they wouldn't have waived the fine.

Home by bus, picking up parcels at the Post Office on the way and then...after the first mad rush to feed the chicks, let out the ducks and hens and play with the dogs....I was on my own.

Eerie.

I've been on my own before....husband's spells in hospital...but this time there is not the continual worry about when or whether he will come round and the long journeys to visit him.

So this is time to do as I please...without guilt.

What have I done then?

Skype has taken a drubbing.
I've telephoned my friends and talked for ages without howls for cups of tea just as I get to the nub of the gossip.

Experimented with the camera...trying to take a half decent photograph of myself. (Thank you, Phil!)
Results variable.
Decided that yes, I definitely do have to straighten up the pair of glasses I sat on last week if they are appearing in said photograph.

Eaten tomato sandwiches for lunch and dinner yesterday, tuna sandwich for lunch today and plan to make a hot and sour soup tonight.
No cauliflower cheeses, no mashed potatoes, no stews, no roasts, no paellas.....no washing up!

Watched BBC television on the computer screen....the programmes I like.

Beaten Amazon into submission enough to download books to the computer. Celebrated by downloading Graham Robb's 'The Discovery of France' as the reviews made it sound so interesting...and was sorely disappointed. Apart from the topographical theme there was nothing new to me.
I shall stick to Susie Kelly.

Slept. My goodness, how I have slept!
No one to wake me from my siesta on the balcony so that I can see a bird which has messed off by the time my eyes are clear enough to see anything.
No one's feet acting like the screws of the Titanic's propellers and wrapping the sheets round themselves until owner of said feet wakes screaming with cramp and has to be released from the swaddling bands.
No one to ask what I think that noise might be at 3.30 am.

The Men have taken the mobile 'phone...to keep in touch. I rang them at the arranged time and got the voice mail. Tried again...same result.
Received hurt 'phone call asking why I had not rung....

Rashly asked how things are going...got it in spades.
Everything from having to search for a builder's merchant who sold sand to a mysterious collection of pipes revealed in the kitchen and a stream running under the house.

How are you coping for food?
Well, the last owner must have been an ecologist. You know how high those ceilings are? Well, he's put these eco bulbs in all the rooms so we had to cook the sausages by sound...judging when they were cooked by the sizzling...

Why didn't you eat in the kitchen? There are two strip lights there....

We've dumped the rubble in the kitchen....

Why won't I be surprised if they roll up this evening.........

As not seen on the Web

Image via WikipediaWe have done rural for years...countryside England, la campagne Francaise and now el campo de Costa Rica...and it has always been a delight to have space around us, to watch the colours of trees change under the shifting light, to listen to the birds and to grub around in the garden.

But, once again within reach of a capital city after so long away from London, the old Adam is resurgent.

There are theatres, cinemas, museums, art galleries.

There are expos...tours....fairs...even demonstrations!
Last Sunday we could have 'done' two of them...petition against animal cruelty first, from the Parque Central up to the Legislature, followed by OAPs against violence to the elderly once we'd got there.
The OAPs aren't daft...it's a sharp climb up to the Legislature from the centre....best to get the bus and start the demo at the top.

Last time I went shopping there the municipal parks department tried to give me a tree to plant in my garden to bring back greenery to San Jose and I had to decline, not having a house there.
Walking along to the shops from the parks department stand I became aware of numbers of ladies carrying not only shopping bags but also trees....as if Burnham Wood was come to San Jose.

But it all started us thinking...the upshot of which was that we decided to buy a small house  in the capital so that we could stay overnight, or for a few days, when there were things we wanted to see or do, not to speak of being able to regard with equanimity hospital appointments which can take place at 6.30 am.


So...househunting! Where to start?

It strikes me that if you are not looking for a particular location, for proximity to work, to schools, to family, then the housing market is a vast disorganised souk.

You want to move to France? You look on the agents' websites and find regions....some of which you've never heard of...and then departments in same with similar problem......
Where what you want is a site which gives you choices based on climate, shopping and airports offering cheap flights.
Or whatever else is important to you.

One day some enterprising estate agent will come forth with a site which gives you the information you really want....
Vineyards....colour of wine on offer....
British expat presence, ranging from zero (peaceful) to ten (smart work with chair and whip necessary to keep them at bay)....
Beaurocracy...watch out for Mme Machin in the sub prefecture...
Dentists...one has been sighted at...
Shopping....from IKEA to Noz...
And helpful hints....those thinking of moving to Deux Sevres  (two river Sevres) might find it significant that neighbouring departments refer to it as Deux Chevres (two goats).....

But thinking out of the box never characterised an estate agent and that goes for Costa Rica too.

Most sites offer you the choice of the seven provinces...some, daringly, offer you the choice of beach or mountain, but that's about as far as it goes.
Detailed research is down to you.

Like.....
Places to avoid.....
Barrio Leon XIII where no one can have an internet line because the technicians are too frightened to go in there to install anything.
Gated communities where the main occupation is bickering over the height of cut on your neighbour's lawnmower.
Yoga communities.

Transport.....
Unless you like watching accidents, nowhere near a railway crossing because there are no barriers and the only warning is the train hooting as it arrives.
Mark you, there aren't many railway lines so it's not a big bother...
Bus routes and buses. While in theory every bus has passed its annual vehicle inspection the black clouds issuing from some bus exhausts leave you wondering how this bus escaped the net...so you don't want a house directly opposite the bus stop.

Topography...
Barrio Aranjuez is quiet and cooler than the dead centre of town....but since you nearly kill yourself struggling up the hill to get home with your shopping it's a good thing that the hospital Calderon Garcia is sited there....
Barrio Amon is smart and stylish....but since you risk going base over apex getting back down the hill with your shopping it is a pity that no hospital is sited nearby...not to speak of its proximity to Gringo Gulch where men with antediluvian attitudes to women cluster in the hotels and casinos that cater to their tastes.

Shopping....
Little neighbourhood shops for everything from plantains to plantains....
Huge shopping malls where the mushrooms are inevitably mouldy and the food halls have fifty different names for fried chicken...
Specialist shops...
Farmers' markets
Proper markets...
Flea markets....
Men selling things of doubtful provenance on the kerbside...

And all this before you even get to thinking about the house itself....