Coffee Rica

Ooh! Look! It's! Blog! Time! Goody! Costa Rica is awesome! It's just awesome! The coffee is awesome! Just awesome! The people are awesome! Just awesome! Wanna go play catch? You don't need to throw it, I'll throw it, and retrieve it, you can watch! SCREEEEEEECH. Oh man. I just crashed. I just went from Hyperactive Golden Retriever to Mellow Grumpy Kitty. 'Bout damn time. I've been on a Coffee Rica High for the past three days. I've been guzzling the brew almost nonstop for a week. And how did I find myself in such a quandary, you ask....well, gather around children, Auntie M has a story for you....

Saturday, September 8.

After six hours on one plane, and an hour on another, with a measly single bathroom break between flights (airplane lavatories...loathe them...where does the stuff in the toilet go? It's not natural.), with my snarky, ugly-American tendencies tamed only by free booze (international flights rock) and neatly packaged chips/salsa in lieu of pretzels, I arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica, to a beautiful, sunny morning. Our modest tour group, consisting of 15 or so members of a "United China" committee, of which my dear mother is one, were greeted warmly by local Chinese Costa-Ricans. What a warm, gracious group...They had a huge, custom-printed, welcome banner and everything. Yes, there was an adamant, earnest request for a group picture, welcome banner and all. All hail clever, picture-shy me: under pretense of keeping an eye on the luggage, I managed to duck out of the picture. No way am I posing in a banner group picture. NEVER!

Cut to two hours later. After checking in to our hotel, and enjoying a pleasant lunch at a local Chinese restaurant, with standard Chinese banquet fare (!), I find myself grinning weakly for the camera, in a group picture. With a banner. Under another banner. Lud help me. I was jet-lagged. Bloated and drowsy from the greasy Cantonese food. Weak, I tell you. Weak.

So the younguns (me and a trio of other "under 35, tag-along on a subsidized trip" family members) hang with a local "under 35er". We traipsed through an open-air crafts/souvenir market aimed at tourists. I resisted, I am proud to say. Not one chotzka with "Costa Rica" emblazoned on it. Then, we took a straw poll, determined we needed coffee, and got us some super strong brews. I think they were too strong. They made the drive throughout San Jose much more exciting than it warranted. Or maybe not. THEY DRIVE LIKE MANIACS! It's like the wild west, anything goes. You need a pair of brass ones to drive there, dude. One thing I must say though....maniacal driving notwithstanding, people here are mellow. No road rage, no rushing. Car horns are used, not shrilly or forcefully to show frustration at the jackass in front of you, but politely...single taps to alert your fellow citizen drivers. Amazing. Roads are a little rough, though, because, while there are pockets of development in the capital city, there are still many pockets of pre-development, for lack of a better term. Yet we saw no beggars on the streets, or "shady" looking areas. Just lots of nice, gracious, people going about their lives. With gorgeous dogs. My goodness, so many people had dogs! Mellow dogs! Working adults on the street, out walking their dogs; Children in a shopping district, clutching tiny puppies lovingly...in more rural areas, dogs roaming near their owners, good-natured and care-free. My theory is, people with mellow dogs are happy people. So given that...Costa Ricans are the happiest peeps ever.

We capped off the day of shopping and sightseeing with dinner at a local restaurant, where we had a delicious meal consisting of tender roasted meats, plantains, tortillas, tamales, blackened, seasoned rice and a lovely soup with melt-in-your-mouth bits of cow stomach. As our happy-go-lucky local guide was a well-off owner of a chain of pollo fast food joints in Costa Rica, we made sure to save room for a late night snack at one of his restaurants. And was it worth it! Imagine succulent chickens roasting in a huge brick oven fired by coffee tree kindling. Mounds of chicharones (fried pork skin) gleaming and beckoning. Awesome. The chicken was juicy and flavorful (is that a hint of coffee aroma there?) almost, if not as good, as my all-time favorite rotisserie chicken, the epic, Costco Super Chicken. And the chicharones! Heaven. I heart Costa Rica. And that feeling stayed even after we spotted some stunningly beautiful, transvestite lady-men of the night lingering on a couple of street corners on our way back to the hotel. Sidebar: Per our guide, prostitution is legal in Costa Rica, and they are encouraged to register, get business licenses, etc.

Sunday, September 9.

Sightseeing! Abbreviated sightseeing! Our group rented a tour bus, and on the agenda was a visit to a coffee plantation, a volcano, and a rain forest/wildlife refuge. And we did it all in 5 hours. With 2 hours on the road. So it was pretty whirlwind. The volcano and the rain forest were lovely. Even though it rained. Still very lovely. Waterfalls were stunning, the flora were gorgeous, and the wildlife exhibits quite engaging. The poisonous froggies were my favorites. To think those tiny little ribbitters (think the WB Singing Frog) could take you down with a single dose...very cool. And the coffee plantation....oh my. All that greenery holds the secret to rich, flavorful, caffeinated goodness. We were able to get up-close to some coffee trees, and we even got to pick some green beans (which magically turned brown in my bag a little while later...roasted, I think, by my body heat and the humidity of the rain forest). I loaded up on coffee and indulged my desire for a souvenir-y, overpriced tiny shot bottle of coffee liqueur simony because it had a enamel figure of a cooter, er turtle, glued to the side of the bottle.

Later that evening, we attended the grand gala event, which was a lavish dinner banquet celebrating the Chinese Costa Rican Association, where the diplomatic representative from China was the guest of honor. It was quite the experience. Think old school family association spring banquet in SF Chinatown, only with half the room being Spanish-speaking Costa Ricans. With karaoke and endless formal speeches (in two languages -- and yes, even the karaoke in two languages). And endless recitings of association members and honored guests. The spirit of the event was wonderful...and the way the Chinese and the Costa Rican cultures were celebrated was a beautiful thing. I'm just not a huge fan of pomp and circumstance. FOUR HOURS of it. The one highlight (or lowlight) of the evening was the awkward pause during the playing of the two countries national anthems. So everyone rises and faces the flags. The Costa Rican anthem goes off without a hitch. However, it takes the DJ forever (think 5 minutes stretched out veeeery long) to play the Chinese anthem...and the whole room is still standing, looking reverent and solemn, mind you...and then there is the lingering fear that the OTHER, unrecognized as a island-state's state anthem would be mistakenly played. Whew, thank goodness he found the right track...things could have gotten ugly...all in all, the event was quite impressive, with various Costa Rican luminaries attending, and with the local hosts bending over backwards to make sure their guests felt welcome.

Monday, September 10.
After a quick breakfast at our hotel, where the buffet was passable (fruit, yogurt, eggs, toast, the usual. The guava jam packets were cool, though), but the coffee flowed like water -- Oh, the coffee -- we have time only to visit a famous Church in San Jose and refresh ourselves with said church's blessed holy water...(sidebar: Wow. The water gushes out of a couple of pipes, and people are bottling up gallons of it, or drinking and washing various body parts with it...bathing their babies in it...amazing.). We then made a quick stop at a mini-mall and supermarket (where I loaded up on more coffee, as well as rum (two of the essential food groups), and also did a quick cost of living comparison of daily necessities -- guys, the cost of living, for food and daily essentials, at least, is not cheap there.) Then off to the airport, and homeward bound. With a pause in between to spend the last of our colones at the duty free shop for more coffee. Oh the coffee....

Forever Grasshopper FanGrrls!!

On Sunday, September 2, I indulged my FanGrrlness with my bud and fellow FanGrrl Sau Lai. We had Front!Row!Tickets! to see a Hong Kong Canto-Pop Boy Band of our youth, Grasshopper. Yes, you can stop laughing now. They are really called Grasshopper. Come on now. We don't be hating on any of the insect band names of the West, dammit. Beatles, much? 'Sides, three cute guys shaking their booties to upbeat pop songs? What's not to like?

Anyway, I digress. The concert. Dudes, in one word: Grasshopper-tacular. It was soooo fun! Here are a couple of pics I took on my cell. Yes, they suck. I took more, but I was juggling a couple of lightsticks, and was all atwitter in my FanGrrl excitement, so those pics came out worse than these.

But back to the concert. High energy, really active, non-lump-on-a-log fans (Sidebar: Most Canto-Pop concerts I've attended in the past have had some really passive fans in the front row...tepid clapping, no dancing or moving, heaven forbid they even scream or wave...but that seems to be slowly changing. Lots more excitement and energy from the front row audience...). Our boys --lead singer and attention whore Remus (yes, I had a crush on him as a teenybopper), his older and more articulate brother Calvin, and Edmond, the funny and mellow one (Sau Lai's fave)-- are, let's be honest, pushing 40+ in age, but they looked GREAT. They still got their moves, their showmanship, and of course, their voices. They sounded fantastic.

Our boys performed a wonderful set, hitting all the songs on my must-list. Great choreographing, energetic show. They encouraged us to get up and dance, and by gum, we did. And screamed, and waved our glowsticks with rabid ferociousness in hopes of attracting their attention. Another sidebar: dudes, front row has its perks. Concert staff started distributing glowsticks and glow bracelets to us before the show started. Those things were selling for a couple bucks each before the show. Of course, Sau Lai and I didn't really need their stankin' standard issue sticks. We had our own Very Special Multi-Flashing Battery-Op versions, which kicked ass, and, I think, certainly attracted the G-boys' attention more than a couple times. I swear to all that's Fried and Good in this world that I locked eyes with each of the boys at least once...and all due to our proximity to the stage, our Kick Ass Lightsticks, and our high octave FanGrrl shrieking. Oh hey, I should mention the Front Row tix were a special treat in celebration of Sau Lai's birthday (Happy Birthday, Dude!) and she, being a diligent FanGrrl, made sure to scream that it was her birthday a couple times to the boys, in hopes, I suspect, that they would hop down and serenade her. Or at least give her a hug. Or at the very least let her cop a feel.

Time flew by so quickly at the show...Grasshopper has a huge repertoire of fast, high-energy songs (granted, some are Chinese versions of foreign hits, but hey, still very good)...and they kept going, and going, and going. And us fans blessed with seats so close to the stage went and went and went with 'em. We were on our feet, glowstick-wielding arms raised high most of the show. I have to admit, near the end of their extended dance medley, I was really beginning to hope for a ballad so I could take a break. But they kept going! I dunno how they did it. Cuz, you know, they were singing and dancing some fast-paced, highly choreographed routines. And not lip syncing. And not even breathless!

Speaking of the choreography, some was pretty edgy, as were a lot of their costumes. Lots of skin, lots of provocative moves. At one point, the backup dancers were dressed as wolves, with realistic wolf headdresses, complete with green glowing eyes, and then after some slinky moves, the boys simulated a mating ritual with these wolf gals. I'm making it sound weirder and kinkier than it was. Hold on a tic. Actually, it was pretty kinky. And kids, I liked it. You can bet I howled like a wolf girl when they did that! And of course, we can't have three scantily-clad pretty boys and NOT have some homo-erotic moves. And yes, I liked it, and yes, I howled again.

All in all, a wonderful show and a fantastic experience. It was worth the pushing and shoving (those bastids in steerage who tried to rush the stage and block our view), and getting all up in some dude's grill, as he tried to claim to a security guard that he was in OUR seats. It was worth the soreness in my arms (from the enthusiastic glowstick-waving), and my hoarse throat (from the FanGrrl screaming) the next day. In sum, Grasshopper is HOT, at any age, and if you can swing it, embrace the Front Row, and your inner FanGrrlness, at least once in your life!

Viva Las Vegas and Fried Bits

I was so moved by the mini-Vegas Strip replica at LegoLand, as well as the various cheap flight deals whizzing about the web, that I decided to take a spontaneous trip to Sin City....here are some pics...Narrative below.
Tuesday, August 28: It. Is. Hot. Bloody bloody hell, it's hot. 105 degrees or so. We pant our way to our hotel, the old shcool, identity-conflicted (Am I Chinese-themed? Japanese? Polynesian? Or the all-inclusive Asian?) Imperial Palace (IP), only to be told a room will not be available for a couple hours. OK guys, your loss. We promptly hit the buffet. Oh, here's a tip - if you go at the end of breakfast service, you can get the breakfast price, but still have access to the lunch items. Lovely! I had fried chicken and waffles, pancakes and meatloaf. Wonderful. So after we ate our way through the IP buffet, we waddled back down to the registration lobby, only to be told our room would be ready in another 30minutes. Grrr. So we catch a show by the "Dealertainers" of IP (Celebrity lookalikes who sing at the top of the hour, and deal tables the rest of the time), give a few bucks to some friendly penny slots, then finally get a room. For $48 a night, whadya expect?! It was serviceable. Definitely a long way from the Wynn, which is where I stayed my last trip to Vegas. We amble down the strip towards a box office, in the schweltering heat, pausing to visit a couple of casinos along the way, before finally purchasing tix to see Folies Bergere at the Tropicana. Old school Vegas showgirls...kinda cool. The topless thing was tastefully done. The only time it felt "off" was during a ballet bit, but other than that, quite a lovely throwback to days past. After the show, we hopped on the Deuce, a 24 hour bus that takes you up and down the strip, as well as to Downtown. Our target was Downtown. Can you believe it took an hour?! The traffic was insane. We got there in time to see the final Fremont Street Experience light show, which was very cool, a huge three-block long video canopy that showed arresting images set to pulsing beats. It was quite dramatic, since the whole sky was lit. Minutes before the show, the bright lights from the casino dimmed, and we were all awash in darkness...then LIGHT. Very cool. Now aside from the light show, I highly recommend a visit to Downtown. I love Downtown! Maybe it was the nostalgia from watching the old school showgirl Folies, but I was enamored with the "classic Vegas" feel of Downtown. This is what it must have before Vegas became themey! (Not that I don't love the themey...it was just nice to get another "theme" - the "Old School Vegas" theme!) The casinos were smaller, grouped together, had manageable tables and machines, and featured wonderful, cheap food deals...we had huge steak and egg meals at midnight for $4! And shrimp cocktails for $1. You can't beat that...

Wednesday, August 29: The heat, the heat. 90 degrees at 5am?! No way, man. A morning trek to pay homage to Bellagio (the lake and the Botanical Garden) as well as to Paris, where we embraced the "Player's Club" exchange of info for schwag....the schwag in this case being free tickets up the Eiffel Tower....that was fun; it would have been more stunning (and crowded) at night, though. It was still lovely to see during the day. After that, it was back onto the Deuce to make our way Downtown, where we continued our love affair with the food deals...this time, Prime Rib for $7! I heart you, Downtown. After that red meat celebration, we played a bit of slots at the Downtown casinos (Fitzgerald's, Golden Nugget, Fremont, Vegas Club), and then I partook in some of the most wonderful things in the world: $0.99 Fried Twinkies, Fried Oreos, and Pina Coladas. Oh my goodness, I was in heaven. While I have had fried Twinkies in the past (as the base for a decadent sundae at Mel's in Berkeley), the Fried Oreo was a revelation. Oooey, gooey chocolately creaminess, wrapped in crispy golden batter. Yum. My heart beats erratically for you, fried goddess. The fried Twinkie was the bomb, of course, super soft and oozy and a contrast in textures. My heart is still beating erratically, my love. Sheet. What are the signs of a heart attack? Never mind. So after prying my powdered sugar and fried food genuflecting arse from the Mermaids Casino, where the Fried Mecca was located, we made our way back to the Strip, to the Wynn, to be exact, just in time to see Spamelot. GENIUS! Loved it. So silly, so funny, so joyful, so witty. Highly recommended. And if you can swing it, buy seat D101. You'll get a lovely surprise. The Grail Theatre at the Wynn is very intimate (I saw Avenue Q there a couple years back), and there is really no bad seat. I was close enough to see the actors' faces, and that of course, enhanced the show...seeing John O'Hurley make wacky faces, and being able to see details in costumes, etc. Lovely. I broke my resolve and bought a Killer Bunny Puppet after the show. I had to, man, it spoke to me and made me. After that, slots at the Wynn. Thanks Mr. Wynn for buying us a late night dinner at Harrah's! Then a meandering around the Venetian, where we admired the piazzas, the Sistine Chapel ceiling replicas, and then one final Player's Club whoring of info...and all we got was a lousy card...with cool Eurotrash gold chain, but still...where's my free t-shirt? My free slot play?

Thursday, August 30: Before dashing off to the airport, we decide to hit the tables. One great thing about the older casinos is the low table minimums. We played Pai Gow Poker for a little while, and for the most part, managed not to lose too much. And then, it was time to bid adieu to my beloved Vegas...until we meet again, my love...your golden fried bosom and neon-laced curves will forever call to me....