During our summer, which usually starts in December, the trade winds also start blowing, with considerable force. (As you can imagine, since back in the days of sailing ships, sailors used the trade winds to cover quite a bit more ocean than they might otherwise.) The winds started blowing a couple of days ago. They blew so hard, I think something has come loose from the roof, but the landlord is going to need to go up there to fix a hole anyway (a hole through which a stray cat has come in in the middle of the night, a cat who attempted to start a fight with Boris the Grande) so he can check it out. A big, old pine tree "downtown" (and I really use that word loosely) Puente de Piedra broke right in half and was lying in the middle of the street yesterday morning.
Of course, it would seem completely natural then, that this would be the day I would choose to go up to the hotel and visit esposo. I have still not purchased hiking boots, so I made the rather substantial mistake of wearing flip-flops up there. And, clearly thinking ahead, I left my Isotoner driving gloves at home. I should have realized it was not the best idea when, as soon as we started the climb up the mountain road, the weather changed into horizontal rain, heavy fog, and high winds (and this was at 10:00 in the morning!). Good thing they have two fireplaces in the reception area, because I parked myself in front of one as soon as I got there and loaded on the logs.
It ended up being a nice day (well, not the weather part, but the spending-the-day-with-my-husband part) after all, complete with a deep-tissue massage at the spa and a lovely lunch cooked up by esposo (although all our son wanted was a cheese sandwich, I had the homemade fettuccine with some sort of aromatic sun-dried tomato/cilantro/macadamia nut "sauce," topped with eggplant parmesan (panko encrusted, yum!) and wild greens, though I had to pass on the eggplant once I realized it was cooked in the same oil as the fish -- yuck [not that you could taste the fish in the eggplant, but being a vegetarian and all...]).
All night long, the sounds of the trees blowing in the wind and scraping on the roof of our house sounded like something (or someone) was up there. Sort of freaked me out. Since I put clothes on a clothesline to dry, the trade winds also usually mean that half of my clothes go flying around the yard in this weather. It is not the most enjoyable time of year for me. I still remember being pregnant and alone in the house with a plumber up in San Antonio de Escazu when a tornado hit the area. We looked out the window and I could see an uprooted tree swirling around in the air about 400 meters from our house; a six-foot piece of roofing landed in our driveway only inches from the Haunted Hyundai. I remember mentioning something to the plumber about how this was kind of scary, and he said (probably just not wanting to have a freaked out pregnant woman on his hands), Nah, it's just the trade winds. Turned out a few houses were destroyed in that particular tornado. So last night all I could think of was, Can you see a tornado hit at night? If a tree came swirling up into our yard, it would smash right through these sliding-glass doors... How on earth would I contact esposo in the middle of the night, and what difference would it make since you can't get off that damn mountain after sundown?
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