This is a story of something that happened to me during one of my early trips to Costa Rica. I think about it every now and then and wanted to share it with everyone. It was November 2004 and Sherry, Rob and I were on one of our property hunting expeditions to Costa Rica. This is long before Carlos and I ever moved to Costa Rica and long before I had any ability to speak or understand Spanish. Carlos, who usually came on these trips and was the designated interpreter, did not come on this trip because it was a busy season at his art gallery in California.
So three non Spanish speaking city dwellers ventured into the southern zone of Costa Rica in search of a property to call Monte Azul. We had met a real estate agent on a previous trip, Mike was his name. I use the term real estate agent loosely. The real estate system in Costa Rica is very different from the USA and this topic could be an entire book by itself.
Anyway, what it came down to was Mike worked for a guy who knew people wanting to sell their property. It was his job to escort interested buyers out to the property and see if there was any interest. Most of these properties were way off the main roads with no phones, no electricity and sometimes rather treacherous roads or other encounters. Making arrangements for an appointment was impossible since most owners did not have landline phones and cell phones didn't work in this part of the country at the time.
It was a bright sunny morning and we met Mike at the local pulperia to go see a large property at the top of a hill, which actually turned out to be a mountain. Mike said that we needed to go early before it rained. The road would be impassible if it started to rain. The property was in Punta Mala approximately 6 kilometers (4 miles) up the hill from the coastal highway. We had looked at other properties on this road but had never gone beyond the 3 kilometer marker. The road started out with a slight grade with good compacted gravel. At about the 4 kilometer mark, it changed completely. It was now nothing but red clay; slick, wet, rutted, squishy red clay that was getting steeper and steeper. Most Americans would not even consider this a road. We were in Mike's car and he was driving never showing any nervousness or fear. There came a point when we just couldn't make it any further and so Mike pulled over and said that we need to walk the rest of the way. It was supposedly just around the corner.
So we all piled out and started to walk up this incline of slick wet, rutted, squishy red clay. Then, we arrived at the gate and breathed a group sigh of relief. We looked around and marveled at the scenery. The views were magnificent. Further up the hill and to the north and south was nothing but primary rain forest. Directly west was an open unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean.
The property was more than 90 hectares (225 acres). A small percent was pasture land and the rest old growth rain forest. It was my job on the trip to write down all the statistics and information about each property along with the positives and negatives and any other pertinent or unique information. It is hard to remember one property from another after seeing a few of them and there is never any "sales sheet" from a realtor. We needed some way to remember and to discuss what we had seen with Carlos later.
So we went through the gate and Mike started calling "Upe!, Upe!, Upe!" so I wrote in my notes, Upe's Farm. From now on this property would be referred to as Upe's Finca. Finca is Spanish for farm. I was being a bit uppity with my Spanish title for the property. Other significant notations were, positives: size, price, views, good building sites, primary rain forest and negatives: bad road, no immediate water source, no electricity, no phones and no means of getting phones or electricity anytime soon. Upe wasn't home so we toured the vicinity around the house. Then it started to rain and Mike said that we had to leave immediately. We hurried down the road to the car and survived the 6 kilometer white-knuckle drive, or should I say slip n slide, down the hill.
When we returned to our base camp, a little motel along the southern coast highway, we were happy to see Carlos' mom, dad and aunt waiting for us. They had most graciously offered to come down to the southern zone and help with our property search and act as translators and maybe even negotiators. They asked us about the properties that we had seen and so I pulled out my notebook and start going over the information that we had gathered during the previous days that we had been in the area on this trip.
I got to the information on Upe's Finca and Carlos' dad, also named Carlos, got this really strange look on his face and and asked what I had said. I told him that I had named it Upe's Finca because that was the name of the owner. I didn't know his last name because Mike hadn't known it and we never met him. I was very proud of myself for remembering his name and made sure that Carlos' dad knew that. The strange look on his face turned to a very large grin and then non-stop, belly wrenching laughter. I had no idea how this could be so funny.
Carlos' mom and aunt, Ana and Laura, were also laughing by now. When they calmed down a bit, Carlos explained to me that upe is not a name but and expression that is used when when approaching someone's house to see if they are home. It is the equivalent to "hello, anybody home?" I quickly realized my error and my pride of remembering the owner's name evaporated.
For years, Carlos' dad would see me and ask about my friend Upe and how he was doing. Always with that big grin on his face and reminding me of my lack of skills when it came to the Spanish language. Last week, years after the incident, Carlos can back from a trip from San Jose with a gift. It was the tee shirt that I am wearing in the photo that says UPE!. The small writing says: "interjection used to find out if there is someone at home or in any other private place." I love this tee shirt and the fond memories it brings back of my short time visiting Upe's Finca and the visual I get of the big grin Carlos' dad always got on his face when he talked about my dear friend Upe. I am certain Carlos' dad is up there somewhere laughing at me wearing this tee shirt wishing he had given it to me himself.
