March 23 - Sunday. Ah, the sweet sound of fresh coffee beans being ground.  Costa Rica is a coffee gourmet's paradise.  We have the house breakfast at Casa Maria, gallo pinto and eggs and square white bread. Jonathan has made friends with owner's son Paco.  He has also discovered they have cartoon network on every morning. We take a taxi to David Diller's church in Moravia and get a little lost. I'm amazed that we actually got there and only a few minutes late.  People give directions by 'landmarks' rather than street addresses as most streets nor buildings are marked.  So many meters north of McDonalds or the Coca Cola terminal -- our destination was a few hundred meters past Sony.  Cost was $15 which I think is typical for a ride by reservation. This taxi driver also drives Tico style, windows down and fumes coming in.  We drove by the Eucalyptus-lined La Sabana Park and through downtown again. I see lots of shops and places through which I'd like to meander,  but maybe another time.  La Sabana is built on what was formerly the international airport and you pass by it on one side or the other going and coming.  The old terminal is now the Costa Rican Art Museum.  With its soccer fields and basketball, volleyball and tennis courts and swimming pool, it is a favorite of the Ticos.  

Moravia is a barrio or neighborhood about six km from downtown San Jose.  We would call it a suburb.  I understand there is a thriving arts and handcrafts market here which has put it on the tourist map, but this being Sunday  is not in operation.  Church is started by the time we get there and is all in Spanish.  David is teaching. I can understand a little, enough to look up the scriptures. Jonathan does not understand any and is bored and hot. He doesn't want to go to kids class because he can't communicate. Today is very sunny and I let him sit outside the building on the grass in the shade and read his Tolkein book. I especially love the music and singing -- language is not a barrier to worshipping the Lord.

The Dillers have invited us to their home for the day. They live in a nice typical neighborhood which is not far.   His beautiful wife Mallela has decorated with a few shelves with pegs and 'country' accessories.   I make a note to gather up a few things to send to her. She is Tica and he is from the US. They met when teenagers while working as volunteers for their mission.  We met them about 10 years prior when they were visiting in the states and had the pleasure of having them in our home.  They remembered picking fruit from our trees.

Today is the infamous USA-Costa Rica soccer match and it seems everyone is either at the stadium or watching it on TV including their now teenage sons. Both are tall and handsome and bilingual. They have Nintendo to Jonathan's delight.  (Costa Rica's team won.)

After lunch and a short visit, they take us to visit some other Vargas relatives, Rodrigo and Vilma in another barrio not far away.  They  graciously serve us coffee and cookies which are strange to our palate. Jonathan opts for the buttered bread. They live in a connected house also with a carport at the front.  It has a large backyard, all enclosed with concrete block walls in which  Rodrigo cultivates some fruit trees and beautiful orchid plants and a few chickens. They don't speak English and is  awkward for me. I smile a lot. Rodrigo asked us through David what we were going to do until Wednesday when we leave for the northern coast.  I mentioned reading about an aerial tram in a rain forest.  Vilma is on vacation from work this week and so they offered to take us tomorrow. I will remember their kindness to us.

We all went back to church for evening service.  David let Jonathan sit in his office to read. It has an open window to the meeting room so I went also and  rested.  My ears are getting more in tuned to the Spanish language, but I can pick up phrases only sparingly.  Dean navigates quite well, having spend a year in Cuba as a young man and learning by 'total immersion".

He recalled having a heavenly papaya milkshake on his first trip here and thinks it was somewhere near the Parque Sabana.  Mallela figured it must be the soda, La Tapia.  So off we went after service for a light meal.  It was crowded with both locals and tourists. This is a grilled sandwich and fries kind of place with a great local feel.  Not exactly good sandwiches, but the shakes were great, made with various kinds of fresh fruit.  I noticed when we left that David passed some money to a man on the street.  He is a self-appointed parking attendant of sorts, and this was his 'territory'.  I understand there are many around town and each lays claim to a section of street parking.  They watch out for your vehicle and expect compensation for their services.  We are able to guide David back to Escazu in the dark and look forward to our trip tomorrow to the