Stampede breakfast, Costa Rica style!

Right now on this very week, back in Calgary, AB, is the Calgary Stampede. It’s the largest outdoor show in the world (at least that’s the story). It usually means a massive influx of cowboy- and cowgirl-wannabes (among the real McCoy, mind you, which the Stampede also attracts in large numbers), a lot of public drunkenness. A lot of Calgarians happen to take vacation during Stampede week, for obvious reasons.

One thing the Stampede is also famous for is something that doesn’t actually happen at the Stampede — it happens just about everywhere else in the city: the Stampede pancake breakfast. It’s a tradition dating back decades, supposedly started when one kind rancher shared his breakfast with those around him.

There’s only two rules with pancake breakfasts: have a lot of people, and it should be free! (There are even websites to help people find the pancakes.)

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Odio pasar a un nuevo hogar

I hate moving.

But you already know that.

About two weeks ago, our first lease came due. This is when I had hoped to renegotiate our lease, as I felt the rent was about 33% higher than it really should have been. (There’s a longer story to this. I might be writing it sooner than later.) That discussion went in circles before we finally ended up where we are now.

In a new apartment.

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Día del Padre en Costa Rica

Hey kiddo,

Today was Father’s Day. Not just here in Costa Rica, but in many other places around the world. Today was a special day in many ways, notably in that you and I got to spend a lot of time together (sadly, something we don’t get most days), and that you gave me a wonderful present: a photo of you, and a nicely-coloured picture of your favourite Sesame Street character — Elmo! (Even if Mommy had to help you. A lot.)

You also gave me another wonderful gift: sleep. You let us sleep in a bit instead of getting us all up for 6:00 (or earlier).

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A year in Costa Rica

This morning was cool and wet, something I can say with confidence to be a rarity here in the Central Valley region of Costa Rica. I can say this because today marks my first anniversary in Costa Rica. One year ago today, I moved from my comfort in Canada, tucking my poor cat Asia into the space under the seat in front of me, and braved the 14-hour trip south (counting the six hours one spends in Houston during the layover).

It’s been a year of utter chaos, extreme stress (I now look back at what I used to think was stressful, and have realised a tremendous amount of new strength), and unbelievable challenge and testing. It’s been mixed with wondrous discovery, gorgeous vistas (even though we’re hours from a beach), many new friends, and a truest definition of experience: skills and memories that can’t be acquired any other way.

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Where to find great Indian in Costa Rica

Costa Rica is a long way from India. It’s also a long way from Vancouver and Calgary, which are the two places where I’ve come to really know and love Indian food. (It helps that both cities have large Indian populations.) When we came to Costa Rica, we were ready for Latin American cuisine, and thus far we’ve not been disappointed.

But still, you hanker for the things you love. Like a good butter chicken.

So image our surprise when Alex talked to the owner of Tandoori Palace in Lindora … and finds that he lived in Calgary once upon a time.

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A visit to the CIMA ER

This weekend past was not one of your healthier ones, Mi Pequeña Niña. On Saturday, we noticed your nose was running, and you were coughing again. We’ve almost come to expect this since you started going to school a few months ago. Until then, you were the picture of health, barely having the sniffles from teething.

Since going to school, you’ve had a variety of illnesses, coupled with ear infections and your final teeth coming in (you’ve got all your baby teeth now), and it’s been a bit of a challenge for you and Mommy. You’ve seen the doctor a few times, now.

But you gave Mommy and I a bit of a scare last night.

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A Day In My Life

Over the last (almost) year, I’ve had a number of people ask me what a regular day is like for me. It’s not an easy answer. First of all, there is no such thing as “regular” or “ordinary” in my job. Every day is different (one of the few things I truly love about the advertising world), so there’s no set pattern to easily relate to you.

Even where there is pattern, it’s high level: I get up, I get ready for work, I go to work, I work, I go home from work, I spend time with my family, I go to sleep. The details vary almost constantly, epecially with the “I work” part — in the 9 years I’ve been with this company, I’ve yet to have the same day twice.

And I’ll tell you — explaining all that ain’t easy. But I’m gonna try…

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Guanacaste Weekend

Hey Kiddo! 

You probably won’t remember any of this when you finally get around to reading this, so I’m going to slide you a few details of the weekend. 

1 May in many parts of the world is known as “May Day”, or “Labour Day”. Thanks to the Cold War, many people also think of 1 May as the day that Soviets drive tanks and nuclear missiles through Red Square. The Soviets kind of missed the point, there, as the goal of May Day was not to celebrate one’s military strength, but the power of your own proletariat — the workers themselves. 

Here in Costa Rica, most people go to the beach. 

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The Failure of Offshoring

A couple of years ago, I engaged in my first offshore experience, when we hooked up with a small company out of Argentina to develop and deliver some additions to a website, including the addition of a simple CMS. It had been a first crack at what would end up becoming a significant change in my career.

At the time, the experience had left a rather bad taste in my mouth, like realising that the glass of milk you’re drinking is a little off. It wasn’t that the experience was horrible, just that it could have been a lot better. 

My experiences continued with other groups, mostly in Central and South America, and also included an arm of one of our regular vendors, who shifted operations from the United States to India. And I think it might have been the point at which I decided that if the opportunity arose, I really needed to find out what offshoring was like, first-hand.

Funny how life works, eh?

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Repetition breeds complacency

Last night, I was feeling a little reflective. (That sometimes happens after I’ve had a glass of wine. Or three.) 

It was dark, the lights out, and everyone else already in bed. I stood on my second-floor balcony overlooking the “lago” outside, and looked up to the moon above. Not a full moon, but it cast a bright light. The area around us was mostly silent, except for the odd passing car in the distance. The only other sound was the wind blowing through the palm trees. 

That’s when it hit me. I’m living in Costa Rica. 

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