Costa Rican streets aren't kind to wheelchair users. Photo: Erin Van Rheenen

She took the ball and ran with it, writing on her blog that PASE isn’t “just a splinter group supported entirely by the disabled population; but instead a driving force in Costa Rica politics with a substantial mainstream following.” And Candy poses a provocative question: “If a relatively inaccessible country like Costa Rica can have a political party based on inclusion, then why can’t it happen in an accessible country like US? And if it did, could this type of a party actually garner a solid mainstream following?”

Two things you don't often see in Costa Rica: special parking for disabled drivers, and 'Prohibido fumar' (No Smoking) signs. These are in front of a government building in downtown San José. Photo: Van Rheenen

Of course the fact that Costa Rica has a political party that advocates for wheelchair users could also be an indication of just how how far the country needs to come in that area.

Costa Rica’s streets and sidewalks are challenging enough for able-bodied walkers, who must be on the lookout for ankle-breaking holes, deep gutters, and careening cars. Wheelchair users in this country have to be especially resilient and creative, as they won’t find many ramps to help them over curbs or lifts to get them on buses.  On the other hand I’ve seen strangers pitch in to help when a wheelchair needed to get over a high curb or a wheelchair user needed to be loaded into a car or bus.

PASE recently won 4 seats in Costa Rica’s Legislative Assembly. I’ll be curious to see if  the landscape will change for local and visiting “wheelers.”

No, it’s not an underground video making the rounds in fetish circles. It’s a campaign video for Luis Fishman, who came in 4th of 4 candidates in this week’s presidential election in Costa Rica.

His campaign slogan? “El menos mal es el mejor” — the least bad is the best. Come again?

These election photos are by Adrian Hepworth, an award-winning British photographer who lives in Costa Rica. See more of his work at www.hepworthimages.com.

Laura Chinchilla, victor in yesterday's election, ran on a platform of being "firm and honest." Photo: Adrian Hepworth

Supporters of Otton Solis in yesterday's presidential election in Costa Rica. Photo: Adrian Hepworth

Costa Ricans elected Laura Chinchilla in yesterday's presidential election. Photo: Adrian Hepworth

Curubanda Lodge in the Guanacaste hill country

Curubanda Lodge is a small ecotourism lodge in the heart of a working farm—Finca Nueva Zealandia–in the Costa Rican highlands. Its four modest but comfortable guest rooms are within spitting distance of the farm’s dairy, chickens wind their way through the gardens, and on your way back to your room you might have to push through the cows waiting to be milked.

Curubanda Lodge in Guanacaste is also a working dairy.

The Nueva Zealandia farm and dairy has been in the Brizuela family since 1930. At that time, there were few roads, and the family would take milk and cheese by oxcart to Quebrada Grande (often shown as Garcia Flamenco), a small town 13 km away, to trade for staples like rice and beans.

The 100-hectare farm stayed pretty much the same, says Wilberth Brizuela Chavarria, 34, from 1930 to 1980, with successive generations working the dairy and in the fields. The area was high and green enough for dairy cattle, but they also kept chickens and pigs.

In 1980, the government was offering nearby land at a very good price if the buyers would agree to help reforest the area (which had been cleared for farms and pastures) so that there might be a biological corridor between the two volcanoes and the two national parks. The Brizuela family bought up land around the original farm and increased their holdings to 350 hectares.

Another big change for the family farm came in 2000, when Wilbirth finished his business degree at Universidad Latina in Santa Cruz (on the Nicoya Peninsula). The price of milk is notoriously volatile, and Wilbirth came home with big ideas about how the family could diversify and not rely solely on the dairy.

A non-paying guest at Curubanda Lodge

Soon after 2000, the farm began its transformation from working farm to working farm that welcomes guests. They built four guest rooms (the best is on the second floor, with a deck, an amazing view, and a bathtub big enough for two). They built a large restaurant, created trails for walking and for horseback riding, landscaped the grounds so that part of it looks more like a hotel than a farm, and are in the process of relocating the dairy barn so it’s not within smelling distance of the guest rooms. (Right now it’s quite close, but the smell isn’t unpleasant, just earthy.)

Agro-Eco-Tourism, complete with mud wallows

Wilberth calls the new project agro-eco-tourism. “It’s a radical change for us,” he says, and indeed it seems as if they are working out some kinks. The guest rooms could use screens on the windows and the water pressure means that the impressive tub takes over an hour to fill up. Guests are fed extremely well but there are no choices—you eat what they’re cooking, and many meals have rice and French fries on the same plate. A friend who came up to watch the sunset drove into a huge swampy hole in the driveway that  was hard to see in the dark and the rain, and upon later inspection that was just one of many tire-swallowing holes. In the Costa Rican manner, Wilbirth smiled and shrugged, as if to say, Who’d be dumb enough to drive into those holes?

The Guanacaste highlands, with Rincon de la Vieja volcano in the background; photo by David W. Smith

Over the river and through the woods, then over another creek and up along a fence line, in view of Rincon de la Vieja volcano, we found a flattish rock at the top of a hill with what looked like very old carvings. The person who showed us the place brought chalk, and he outlined some of the designs so they’d be more visible.

There were/are many tribes in the Rincon de la Vieja area, including the Curubande and the Guatuso.

Chalk-enhanced petroglyphs near Quebrada Grande; photo by David W. Smith

Detail of chalk-enhanced petroglyph in the Guanacaste highlands; photo by David W. Smtih

In the fight between camera & floor, the Sigma suffered a decisive loss.

There are travel days when nothing goes right. On Friday afternoon, we sat at a table under the eaves at a little soda (a modest restaurant or cafe) in La Fortuna, a muddy one-horse town that is also the tourist epicenter for all things Arenal-esque, from river rafting to volcano-spotting (it hasn’t shown its sloped face in days).

Rain came down in sheets, bouncing off the sidewalk and misting our ankles even as we sat a few feet under the overhang. We’d ordered jugos de mora (blackberry) and guanabana just to rent time at a table, and I was trying to navigate Lonely Planet Costa Rica on the Kindle to figure out a place to stay that night.

David swept his backpack off the table to accommodate the glasses of juice, and one of the straps pulled his camera off the tabletop and onto the hard tile floor.

Craaaak! It didn’t sound good, and as he scooped his Sigma off the floor, his face told me that it didn’t look good, either. He spent the next several minutes checking all the camera functions, and I watched as his face became cloudier and cloudier.

Volcan Arenal is usually shrouded in clouds.

We were 2 days into a 2-month trip whose primary purpose was to do research and take photos for the 3^rd edition of my guide, Living Abroad in Costa Rica. David was the trip photographer. I’d left my piddly little Nikon at home, relieved that I could concentrate on research and writing and leave the visuals to someone more inclined in that direction.

But now  it seemed that David’s camera had fallen and couldn’t get up.  The lens was the problem. It had been so traumatized it now wouldn’t venture out of its shell.

He had a small back-up camera, but the files wouldn’t be big enough to reproduce high-quality color photos.

Here was the trip’s first major snafu.

We’ve spent the last few days figuring out what to do next. On the emotional front, David was seriously bummed, and I had to let him be bummed until he wasn’t bummed anymore–a lesson in non-attachment.

On the practical front, David bought a set of tiny screwdrivers at the local ferreterria, took the back off the camera and poked around, but had no luck in getting the lens to work.

We asked everyone we knew if there was a good camera repairman in town. No, but someone knew a guy in San Jose who came highly recommended. He didn’t answer his cell phone and wasn’t getting back to us. Should we drive back to the capital (4-5 hours on bad roads) to see if we could find this guy?

How about if David bought another Sigma on eBay and had it shipped down here? One acquaintance had a mail service (Aero Casillas) that has stuff sent to Miami and then brings it down to Costa Rica. But it can take from 10 days to 2 weeks to get a package. Other friends said they had small packages sent directly to their address in a nearby small town, with the same time frame—1 or 2 weeks in transit. Some vendors would ship internationally, some wouldn’t. And if customs got ahold of the package, well, you’d have to go to Calderas and know who to bribe.

Stay tuned for more in the camera-meets-floor drama. This experience is reminding me that nothing is easy, or fast, in Costa Rica. The country looks at our agenda and our bag full of high-tech gadgets, and it laughs. A big, rumbling lava-burbling-out-of-a-volcano laugh. All you can do is stand clear, and smile ruefully at how little control you actually have.

In Mary Ann's garden. Photo by David Webster Smith

Ah, it’s good to breath the air here again! It’s somehow richer and wetter, even when the moisture hasn’t coalesced into rain.

My friend Mary Ann, who moved from New York City to Costa Rica in 2004, picked us up from the San Jose airport and whisked us up the hill to her perch above San Rafael de Heredia. The air is fresco (cool) up here on the way to Barva volcano, and the Central Valley is spread out below–nice to see the lights but not have to breath the diesel fumes.

Last night the wind rattled the roof and the dogs next door went wild.

This morning, the sun was shining on Mary Ann’s riotous garden, and we would have seen a toucan in the tree if we hadn’t been too lazy to get out of bed and follow its distinctive call. “I’ve got two toucans,” Mary Ann informed us last night. “I think my place is a refuge for them because I’m the only one up here without dogs.”  A while back a sloth took up residence in her front yard for two months, then moved (very slowly) on.

Mary Ann's house. Photo: David Webster Smith

Tonight, up to La Tiquicia, a rustica restaurant in the hills above Escazu. Mary Ann likes their yucca stuffed with cheese.

It’s good to be back.