I dreamed of Toucans.

     The rain falls sweet-scented and heavy,  the smell of warm, damp earth tickling my nose.  I'm lounging on my patio drinking a cup of coffee, painting a watercolor of sea shells that I'd found on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica and Panama.  I'm realizing that seriously over-used cliche' is true:  It really can't get any better than this.

     The rain patters the steel roof above my head, and humidity covers everything like a wool blanket.

     This, I believe, is as close to nirvana as I can get; but even nirvana has a few cracks in the foundation.

     My husband and I tripped over a few of these in bringing our three cats to Costa Rica.  We were the bold, the brave, and probably, the stupid.

     In bringing Creamcicle, Emily, and Rosie here, I fretted, fussed, and spent sleepless nights worrying about how everything would come together.  Would my babies receive adequate care during the long flight?  Would they be comfortable?  In my feverish worrying, I crossed every T and dotted every I, leaping through every regulatory loophole.  All three cats came through the process in flying colors.

     My biggest concern, after cutting through all the regulatory hoop-de-doo was whether I'd be able to find decent cat food.  As it turns out, most mercados in Costa Rica carry several of the brands that markets in the U.S. carry, as well as many other brands I'd never heard of. 

     There was one item, however, that I hadn't thought to research:

     "Cat litter?  What's that?" my friend Mitchaelle asked, looking at me as if I'd sprouted a pair of antlers.  She runs a small mercado that we frequented.  

     Victor and I and our three fuzzy children had moved to tiny Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, a jewel of the Caribbean with a name that is larger than it is.  

     Finding such an item in Costa Rica is definitely a process.  Few markets, or mercados offer it, and when they do, it's so expensive, you might have to take a loan out to buy it.  Just kidding.  A little.
     There's definitely no shortage of sand in Puerto Viejo.  We tried the sandbox routine for a while.  There are two words that I can think of to describe this:  Icky and stinky.  The sandbox was a hit with the cats, but not with the humans.
     After a couple of years we moved to the outskirts of quiet and tiny Guacimo.  It is muy humedo y muy tranquilo here.  It's also relatively sand-free.  So now the cats use the garden, and that works out just fine.
     However, not everything works without a hitch.
     The system of mail delivery here works well.  Sometimes.  Other times someone sends you a letter, or, like me, you wait for months and months for that ATM card you ordered to show up, and it winds up in a postal twilight zone.
     Or, you try to do something that is simpler, like, say, find a measuring cup.  Good luck.
     If you're travelling or moving to a foreign country, then this blog is for you. I'm here to answer your questions and I'll do my goldarned best to do that.
     I also plan to write on some of the experiences Victor and I have had in living here.
     My blog will also cover nutrition, wildlife, pets, and places of interest.
     If all goes well, you'll be able to sit on your patio and watch the parrots, aracaris, and toucans in your garden.