We bought a car! A gray, 4-wheel-drive, 4-cylinder, 1988 Isuzu Trooper with bald tires. It’s beautiful. Well, it runs anyway and is dependable and chews through our rock and pothole strewn road just fine. We spend the day driving down to La Fortuna on the opposite end of the lake, in the shadow of Volcan Arenal, to return our rental car. The car, coupled with our locals discount at the German Bakery in town owned by our new friends Tom and Ellen, now officially grants us local status, though to really blend in, it seems that I must invest in a couple pairs of really tight jeans or white pants, a few mini-mini skirts, and a pair of high-heeled strappy sandals. Women here of all shapes and sizes wear only the tightest of pants and the most feminine of shoes. Even the snug jeans I own do not qualify as culturally acceptable clothing. No matter how we try to assimilate, we Americans are easy to pick out in our baggy cargo pants and Keen sandals.
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