We managed to avoid all of the touristy things on our first pass through Costa Rica. But on our second pass, we dropped colones like it is fake money on hotels, eating-out, and all manner of adrenaline-pumping activities. In short, we are acting like we are on vacation, not a budget.

On the one hand, I wonder why we didn’t do all of these things in other countries where I am sure they cost less. But, on the other hand, I’m okay with going to the ATM for more cash every day because Coconut hasn’t been this excited to participate in family things since we started the trip and went to Busch Gardens.

We were all sad to leave our latest Workaway with Esteban and Tom on the Buena Finca. I think everyone was sad to see us go as well – and not only because I was the one who brought the beer and rum each night.

When we arrived almost two weeks ago we thought we had signed up to provide manual labor on Tom’s farm but it turned out we spent most of our days at the ferreteria (hardware store) run by Tom’s family – brothers, uncles, sisters, and cousins.

The Earth here in Costa Rica is on fire. It’s scorched the fields so that horses and cows eat the charred remains of what may have been grass and the trees look like something from a Tim Burton movie - skeletal fingers attached to skeletal arms pushing up from the grave. I literally watched a house burn down to pass time while waiting for the guys to clean up Wesley at the auto lavado. It may have spontaneously combusted. This is surprising, though maybe it should not be. We read that Costa Rica, of all the Central American countries, was the most blessed with political stability and prosperity - where else on the isthmus can you get a $4 hamburger for $8 - and we just assumed that also meant it was ripe with lush, green attractions and Spring-like weather. But it’s hard to find anything attractive in a dry and dusty landscape - it’s like hanging a brown paper bag on your wall and calling it art. I think Cy Twombley has done this.

We arrived in Costa Rica on March 11 and left the same day. This was for no reason other than that my sister was pregnant in New Jersey and we wanted to show up on her doorstep and surprise the baby out of her; everyone we had met so far in Costa Rica – the immigration officials who went to lunch while we tried to complete our paperwork to get into the country, the campground owner where we parked Wesley, the woman at the bus stop who told us what bus to board, and the taxi driver who charged us a small fee to take us from the bus station to the airport - was very nice.