San Jose
On Sunday prior to starting work I had my hair cut at a place in the same shopping mall as my office. After the cut, the woman washed my hair and while I was laying back, the nape of my neck resting against the basin she covered my face with a hot moist flannel and lightly pressed it inside my ears and gave them a little gentle scrubbing action. It sent me back to my childhood and for a few brief moments I was a baby being bathed by my mother and about as happy as it is possible for a human to be.

Tuesday I nipped out to the Jazz Cafe for a few beers, a truly great venue, very stylish, live music and friendly staff. The barman, Freddy a friendly Costa Rican, gave me a running commentary as the Police came in at about 10pm and arrested the pianist for non-payment of child maintenance.

At work I sit next to Olga, a wonderful woman from Azerbaijan. The tapestry of her life is so amazingly rich. She has a law degree from her home country, has spent seven years living in Cuba where she met her husband Edelberto and has worked as everything from a waitress in a Chinese restaurant to a representative for the United Nations. They have invited me to their home on Saturday to celebrate my birthday. So much of her life has been spent in what most westerners would regard as abject poverty but she has a richness of spirit, a big heart and seems to spend her spare time cooking and thinking about how she can help out other people.

Olga has taken it upon herself to look after my mental and physical health. Which is great as her cooking is superb. I hope she brings in some more bread.