The Costa Rican Dream

By Eric Ricaurte

Costa Rica's lush tropical rainforests, peaceful reputation, and mild Latin flavor have lured many tourists to venture outside their bubbles and pursue a pseudoadventurous vacation. For these travelers, a visit to Costa Rica most often includes a cloud forest-haze-induced daydream of giving it up all back home and relocating to the "Switzerland of Central America" as an expatriate, semiretired entrepreneur.

Such is the case for three thirtysomething small-town Germans who dream of a life in Costa Rica after their first visit and decide to invest in a jungle lodge. When the plans for the new lodge begin to go sour, they decide to move to Costa Rica, recover their investment, and jump right into the dream they concocted amid a cold south German winter.

The reality, however, is nothing as pleasant as they imagined. Low on money, they fight to open a lodge in a foreign jungle. The intense tropical conditions, along with a complicated legal system and labor force, will test their personal limits and friendship.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 11, 2005
• ISBN: 9780595808212

Eric Ricaurte

Eric Ricaurte is an experienced traveler with an exciting career in ecotourism and hospitality throughout Latin America. Mexican-born of Ecuadorian and American ancestry and raised in the United States, Eric currently lives in Brazil.

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THE COSTA RICAN DREAM

Eric Ricaurte

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

The Costa Rican Dream

Copyright © 2005 by Eric Eduardo Ricaurte

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN-13: 978-0-595-36384-1 (pbk)

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ISBN-10: 0-595-80821-2 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

C H A P T E R 1

C H A P T E R 2

C H A P T E R 3

C H A P T E R 4

C H A P T E R 5

C H A P T E R 6

C H A P T E R 7

C H A P T E R 8

C H A P T E R 9

C H A P T E R 10

C H A P T E R 11

C H A P T E R 12

C H A P T E R 13

C H A P T E R 14

C H A P T E R 15

C H A P T E R 16

C H A P T E R 17

C H A P T E R 18

C H A P T E R 19

C H A P T E R 20

C H A P T E R 21

C H A P T E R 22

C H A P T E R 23

C H A P T E R 24

C H A P T E R 25

C H A P T E R 26

C H A P T E R 27

C H A P T E R 28

C H A P T E R 29

C H A P T E R 30

C H A P T E R 31

C H A P T E R 32

C H A P T E R 33

C H A P T E R 34

C H A P T E R 35

C H A P T E R 36

C H A P T E R 37

C H A P T E R 38

C H A P T E R 39

Glossary

To my parents—

Just trying to return the favor

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C H A P T E R 1  

Reality hit the three friends briskly just like the endemic cold spring fog upon returning from their investment scouting trip to Costa Rica. Jorgen went to his bank, Oscar to his computer hardware business, and Horst to his basement making surgical instruments. The thinking, dreaming, and planning of the three, however would never again be the same.

Day-to-day life in Germany seemed dull in comparison to what they had just experienced in Costa Rica. Their small town of Tuttlingen once again seemed plain and mediocre, holding no surprises, no interesting characters, and no tropical paradise to enjoy. The fact that they were going to purchase beachfront land in the Caribbean of Costa Rica and build a jungle lodge, however, offered all the mental escape from their present reality they needed.

They decided not to tell any friends or relatives until the transfer had been made and the contract signed. This way, no one could talk them out of it or stall them for any reason. Only amongst themselves would they discuss their plans, where an unspoken showing of pride did not allow for any talk or hints ofback-ing out of the deal. After all, they were taking a risk in sending their money abroad to Latin America.

In the case of Horst and his surgical instrument contacts or his friends from the gym, it wasn’t so much a matter of disapproval as it was a matter of not understanding his project. Even ifhe had mentioned early on his ideas of a jungle lodge investment in tropical Central America, it would not have been understood on any level by the people he encountered in his routine.

For Oscar, who was working with a computer manufacturer entrepreneur, it was a step in the opposite direction. In an era of new technology and rapid growth in the electronics industry, any investment not directly related to the field seemed fruitless, since the business was on the cutting edge of technological and societal advancement. This was money Oscar could have put into the business in order to expand their operation, and so he as well did not give word ofhis investment until the deal was sealed.

And for Jorgen, all that he had been taught as an investment banker told him that the project was too risky to put so much money into. This was exactly the type of investment that would cast doubts among the vice presidents at the bank as to his credibility and future potential. But it was exactly that huge risk that made the adventure worthwhile. More difficult, however, would be not telling his girlfriend Sarah about his plans.

The three met the next weekend for a drink at the Winterkarten Bar. Costa Rica, the dream, and the deal were all they could talk about.

Und what do you think the old fisherman will do with the money from the sale of the property? Horst said, raising his eyebrows and lowering the corners of his mouth, which then led to a wide grin. He had used the time in Costa Rica to grow a moustache, which came in slightly darker than his sandy-blond hair, and spread thinly as he smiled.

The old man? He will probably buy another piece of land, even more far away with nobody to bother him, and continue fishing, Jorgen responded.

Mein Gott, imagine the life that guy has lived, fishing in paradise all his life. Oscar shook his head slightly as he took a gulp from his beer glass, his thick cheeks wobbling slightly from the movement.

Yah, klar. But the difference is, he does not know he is in paradise, where as we do, and we will definitely appreciate it more, Jorgen once again responded quickly.

So we make the transfer Monday, right?

Yah, richtig. I am going to call Hans in the morning to confirm the information, und then we make the payment.

Und when do we give the news to everyone? Oscar prodded Jorgen, who took offhis glasses and cleaned them with the bottom ofhis shirt. His clear blue eyes rolled back for a moment as he thought about the plan.

I say we wait until the company is set up, the property title is in our name, and we send the first building payment to Hans, he then responded.

Und wieviel Zeit, how long will that be, a month? Horst asked.

Richtig. I think so, Oscar agreed.

Now Hans, he has the life. Doing business in Costa Rica, working for himself, bringing investment, having fun all the time.

We’ll get there soon Horst, just a few years. Trust me, Jorgen said, touching his glass against his brother’s.

The three continued reminiscing, telling stories, and recalling some of the characters they had met. They fantasized about their future lives once the Yamas Lagoon Lodge was built, when they would no longer be stuck living the typical Schwabisch life. Owning a lodge, they could escape down to Costa Rica whenever they pleased, and even more, they would be profiting from their investment.

Jorgen had taken charge of the process, being the banker of the three, and having the initial friendship with Hans in Costa Rica from the start. He gathered the $10,000 from Oscar and his brother, and set up the transfer. He had a fax machine in his apartment in Stuttgart, and was constantly faxing notes back and forth to Hans in Costa Rica. The process consisted of three parts. First, they had to establish a company in Costa Rica, which had at least five board members. Of these members, the three would be the only shareholders, and Hans and his lawyer would be honorary board members to satisfy the stipulation. Once the company was set up, they would need to sign forms of Power of Attorney, giving Hans rights to act for the company, and upon behalf of the three in their absence. This way he could work out all the necessary permissions and notarizations without having to go through hassles of mailing documents internationally back and forth. Then the property would be purchased and registered under the name of the company, Weiss y Klung, as would all future permits and businesses. They sent the money first, however, as a guarantee to purchase the property. This was no problem since Jorgen trusted Hans, having known him for over four years since his first trip to Costa Rica, and also having helped Hans’s parents finance a house in Berlin.

The company charter came with a translation, as did the power of attorney paperwork. Upon receiving it, Jorgen took it to Oscar and Horst to look over. The contract was foreign in all aspects, but trusting in Hans, they signed, and sent the contract back. A few days later Jorgen received a confirmation that Weiss y Klung had purchased the property. And with the confirmation, the project was officially started. They celebrated that weekend, same pub same drink. They had done it. They had actually made the jump from tourists to investors in Costa Rica. It was the biggest step in arriving at the dream. They had done the research and the planning, and it was just a matter of time before they would be able to enjoy the fruits of their efforts.

They estimated that with costs for construction, labor, and minimal legal and notary fees, they could set up the hotel for a turnkey total of about $100,000. This, plus the initial investment for the property, split equally three ways would be a sizeable investment to start, using up a good portion of their savings. But it was a small price to pay for their dream, which would then hopefully return good amounts of cash, tropical vacations, and adventures.

Hans had estimated that the lodge could be built in one year, just as his own lodge on the Rfo Colorado. Starting with May, theywere to send ten payments of $10,000 to Hans. After the initial transfer for the property, they set it up to make an additional transfer of $10,000 at the beginning of every month. The weather started warming up in May, and they began their outdoor summer activities. Jor-gen and Horst, both maintaining their athleticism that they had known as boys growing up, started their mountain bicycle rides and swimming trips to the Lake of Constance, and Oscar also began to venture out to the lake to sail on his parents’ boat. They held a barbecue in Sipplingen to kick off summer at the end of May, also marking their first monthly payment to Costa Rica. This became a ritual as the months passed, they would gather for a barbecue at the lake on the weekend closest to every payment, celebrating their progress and nearer proximity to accomplishing their dream.

After the first month, Hans faxed some paperwork, all in Spanish, which Jorgen tried to decipher. He continued studying his Spanish, and enjoyed the challenge of reading the paperwork. His fax machine had now become the center of all conversation between the three. Had a new fax come today? Had any new news come? He would anxiously go straight to the fax machine each evening, his new arrival ritual.

The first of the pictures came in July, showing the property, now with all of the old man’s belongings cleared, and large stacks of cedar wood just behind the dock, hauled in for initial construction of the walkway and restaurant. Hans was in a few of the pictures, as were a few indistinguishable local workers.

Now in the heat of the South German summer, the three took pride in their pictures, showing them to all their friends and relatives in the area whenever they had the chance, coming out openly about their investment and hinting slightly about their dream. They received a general envious reaction for having done what many talk about, while at the same time a barrage of skeptical questions about the project that sprouted from a lack of frame of reference of the locals let in on the news.

It would have been nice if he would have told me earlier. All that planning for their trip to Costa Rica, and he never even mentioned to me that they were looking to buy property, much less build a hotel! Sarah half-jokingly expressed her sentiments on the lodge to the others around at their third barbecue, now having sent three payments to Hans. They had invited a few friends out to the lake, and enjoyed their sausages and cold beer, endemic staples of summer happiness. They were that much closer to their dream, and in the mean time, life in Germany was at its best.

I wanted to surprise you, Jorgen defended himself to the group, stroking Sarah’s long blond hair.

Surprise? I just hope you won’t surprise me and say you’re moving to Costa Rica without me! The group laughed as Sarah one-upped Jorgen.

But I thought you said you would not want to live in the jungle.

Maybe I would go, maybe not, but at least you have to offer.

She makes a point, Jorgen. We already know we’re crazy. You at least have to give Sarah the chance to go crazy also! Oscar kept the laughter going.

Und so you are all going to move to Costa Rica? Jorgen’s other friend asked the three.

Nein, nein. Why move when we can have the best ofboth worlds? Jorgen’s reply sent a wave of small nods among the group.

Barbecues and get-togethers followed in the next few months, as word spread of the adventurous trio who were building a lodge in Costa Rica. They became the gossip of the town, which only added to their satisfaction.

Then in mid-September, Jorgen received the call from Hans.

Hallo Jorgen? Hans hier.

Hans, wie getz?

Gut, gut, und selbst?

Very good, waiting for next year to come, so that we can start our trips to the Yamas Lagoon Lodge!

Yah Yah, me too. Actually, that is why I called. We ran into a little trouble.

Trouble, what trouble? The forest burn down?

No no, forest is still there. Jorgen listened intently as Hans chuckled slightly on the other end. It’s about the wood. They aren’t going to let me take the wood from the forest anymore.

Oh really. That does not sound good.

Yah, it was a surprise. I mean, they never gave anyone any trouble before. But now with the other lodges in Barra going up plus ours, and all the houses from the people arriving to Barra, they’re getting strict with the permits.

So what now?

Well, we are going to have to buy the wood from a supplier. I already have two so that doesn’t worry me. However, since we have to buy the wood, the price for the project has to go up. This way, I can keep going without stopping any of the work, and we’ll still be on pace to finish by next Spring.

Well how much more?

As of right now, with the suppliers’ prices and the estimates I’m making, it is going to take another five tausand per month.

Wow, that is a lot.

Yah, klar. I know. That is why the project was so good. Wood is expensive in Costa Rica, but we had the advantage of taking it from the jungle.

Bad luck I guess.

Well, bad timing. I just hope we can get finished before they take away the permits to get the leaves for the roofs, since that would make the cost go up even more. Jorgen paused, trying to understand what the increase in price fully meant to the project.

Well, let me talk if over with Oscar and Horst, and I will call you later.

Okay, fertig. Bis bald.

Jorgen called Horst and Oscar, and they met that evening at Oscar’s apartment. Another five thousand a month between the three. It was a substantial increase. If they were to make six more payments, that meant at least $10,000 more each. Jorgen’s fears of having made a poor investment began to surface, though he dared not tell the other two.

How can this happen? We agreed on $10,000 a month. If things went wrong, he should have to pay for it. Horst’s deep, rough voice echoed briskly against the walls of Oscar’s apartment, adding to the tension in the room.

I think not so. It sounds strange, but remember what the area is like. It is the jungle, and I’m sure there are surprises. And we knew we were taking a risk anyway.

Yah, ser gut Jorgen, but how much more are we going to have to risk? What if he calls next week and says that instead it is going to cost an extra ten tausand dollars instead of five?

I do not think Hans is doing this on purpose, I think it’s a surprise for everyone, including him. As Jorgen tried to calm down the other two, the inner I knew it kept popping up in the back of his mind. As an investment banker, in his daily routine he was constantly evaluating and eliminating possible investment projects based on their high risk and uncertainty. And the description of his project would have sounded ludicrous in the ears of a fellow investment banker. And moreover, Hans was his contact, who had set the whole deal up in Costa Rica to begin with. He sat on Oscar’s couch, doubting the validity and the practicality of the deal. His first warning, he thought, should have been that Hans did not even keep his money in a bank, but rather in a private account that returned him considerable interest, and would make international transfers much quicker and cheaper than Costa Rican banks. According to Hans, the Costa Rican banking system was slow and did not offer attractive rates or terms. And Jorgen had used this as a base to plan the cash flow system that they would use once the hotel was in business. He pictured them taking income from the hotel and putting it into a private account similar to Hans’s, then whenever one of the three would come to Costa Rica, they would collect the earnings, and use the money to cover the traveling expenses, and bring a small amount of cash back to Germany that they would use for personal expenses. That way they would not need to declare it as income with the government. They would also try to accumulate a proportion of the earnings in the private account in Costa Rica, which would then be used for future investments within the country. Specific percentages and amounts would be determined later once the hotel was opened and the cash flows were more predictable.

How could I have thought of a plan this way? Am I being too hard on myself, or should I have known? Jorgen’s doubts ran though his mind as the three sat in Oscar’s living room discussing their options.

Look, the way I see it, we have no choice but to pay Hans, Jorgen concluded.

But I don’t have the money for this. I’ll have to put out one hundred instruments more every month to pay this.

I’ll lend you the money, don’t worry.

Jorgen’s right. We’ve put in a lot of money already, and we need to get the hotel finished, or else we’ll lose the whole thing, Oscar’s agreement with Jorgen made it two-to-one against Horst.

Schaisse! But no more of this monthly talking. We need to call Hans every week, maybe even every day! Horst’s outburst was taken as having meant that he agreed to increase the amount sent to Hans.

Go ahead Jorgen, make the call, Oscar said calmly, as he passed the cordless phone to Jorgen. Jorgen reached into his back pocket, pulled out the number, and dialed to Costa Rica.

Hallo Hans? Jorgen here. How is everything?

Jorgen, Pura vida! Very good to hear from you. How are you doing?

Gut, gut. I have news, I was talking over with Horst and Oscar the issue about the extra five tausand.

Oh yah, und so what is the plan?

Well, we understand that with the news about taking wood from the forest, the costs must go up. But can you assure us that there will be no other costs?

No, no, don’t worry. I calculated everything once I got the news that we would have to buy the wood, and this was the final number I said. And I am not taking my 10% from the additional money, my fee still stays the same. Jorgen nodded happily as he heard Hans’s answer about the commission, since he would no longer have to bring it up.

Und do you think we can still finish on time by next April?

Oh yes, yes of course, kein problem.

Very gut, und we also are needing more communication from your side. Instead of monthly reports, we’ll be calling you every week to get details, and we’ll need the information on the costs and supplies faxed to us once you have it, instead of the end of the month.

Klar, of course Jorgen. You have every right to have the information, and I would have asked for the same from you if I was in your situation.

Okay then, alle ist klar. We’ll be sending the payment in the next few days.

Fertig. Bis bald. As Jorgen hung up the phone, he hoped he could still trust Hans to get the job done like he promised.

The fifth and final commemorative barbecue was held in late September, just after the payment with the additional $5,000. The weather had dwindled to warm instead of hot, rain clouds and fall were moving in, and the three were not as celebrative as they had been in past barbecues. Instead of going all the way out to Sipplingen, they stayed in town, holding their barbecue on the small grassy hill next to the remains of Tuttlingen’s historic castle, from the Hapsburg era. All that really remained of the castle was most of the outer wall, and a small inner chamber on one side. This relatively unimpressive castle, overlooking a peaceful small town, was a contemporary manifestation that followed its mediocre roots.

The grassy area next to the hill, however, served as a common setting for outdoor barbecues, with the autumn palette vividly painting the surrounding forest that marked the western boundary of the village. Charcoal and processed meat in full effect, the three hovered around the grill, still discussing Costa Rica and the future Yamas Lagoon Lodge.

Hans confirmed the payment, right? Horst asked Jorgen, as he reached for the spicy mustard on the table.

Klar, I already told you this morning. Remember? Jorgen replied, mouth full of sausage.

Richtig.

Sending fifteen tausand seems more important though. More risky for some reason, Oscar said, stroking his black hair back.

Well I think it was correct to send it now and not wait. According to what Hans said, remember, the permits are becoming more difficult. We just need to make sure they lodge gets build as soon as possible.

Richtig Jorgen, but how can we know that it is being built, when we are here in Tuttlingen next to the castle? Horst said.

Of course we can not know exactly, but we just have to trust Hans. Once the lodge is built, it will all be worth it. Trust me, Jorgen replied, hoping inside that Hans would come through.

The next few weeks passed in painful repetitive slowness, with no word from Hans. Jorgen would call several times a week, never to get a hold ofHans on the phone. Finally, a few days before the October payment had been scheduled, Jorgen arrived home and found a long fax on the machine waiting for him, and he immediately dropped everything to examine it. It was from Costa Rica, and had a few copies of what looked like invoices from a few stores, each totaling a few thousand dollars. The next page was made of figures Hans had written, with costs for labor, purchasing materials, and transportation. A brief note followed, explaining that he was working without invoices for most supplies in order to not have a paper record for the suppliers so that they would cut him a better deal. The invoices and figures were for the months of august and September, and totaled $35,000. Although the information was sparse and confusing, Jorgen was somewhat satisfied, as were the other two upon showing them the fax. And along with the invoices came Hans’s signed note at the bottom, assuring them that the building was going according to the plan.

A week later Jorgen received the next set of pictures taken at the property. The pictures showed more supplies by the dock, which still remained unchanged, and the beginnings of the walkway, the restaurant, one block of rooms, and the water tank. Now cold with the sky showing constant hints of snow, the pictures were a refreshing escape from the monotonous reality ofTuttlingen. Winter had come, setting off the usual chain of events, people living indoor lives, random, faint gos-

sip spreading evenly through town, working hard on account of a lack of other things to do, living in constant struggle not to come down with a cold.

Figuring that the pictures were at least a month old, Jorgen felt a slight reassurance; the project as a whole still seemed worth the price they were paying. And despite the unfinished lodge, the mere images of the property brought back instant memories of the unparalleled, mystical feel of the Yamas Lagoon that they had all felt on their scouting trip. The mere potential of the site, the vivid tropical colors and warmth, and the excitement they had felt on their first journey to Yamas last March were enough to keep the dream alive, even if it meant losing some money in the beginning. Jorgen leaned back in his couch, pictures in hand, thinking back to how the three had gotten together in the first place and started down this path, and wondering where it would lead.

C H A P T E R 2  

Tuttlingen burned to the ground in 1803. Nearly the entire town, constructed of local wood from the surrounding forest in Southwest Germany, went up in flames and then down to the ground. In the two hundred years since, the fire of 1803 still remained the only interesting fact about Tuttlingen.

After the fire, the town rebuilt itself; new houses and buildings were constructed using concrete and brick, and these houses were built spread apart instead of next to each other. This preventive, calculated measure stamped Tut-tlingen as a town lacking the antique charm found in the nearby neighboring villages of the region. Not exceeding more than 20,000 people including recent relative waves ofTurkish and Russian immigrants, Tuttlingen did not offer any advantages of a big city, nor did it have the accompanying problems of one. The streets were never crowded. Nobody made much noise after dark. And front lawns were impeccably landscaped with the same German precision that equally went into the making of surgical instruments, a large industry in the region. Some might have called this town cozy, others might have called it sleepy, and a cynic might have called it sedated.

The great Danube River of Europe, at one of its most unimpressive points, divided Tuttlingen by cutting right through its center. Nestled in the southwest corner of Germany, the town was a half-hour drive northwest from the large Lake of Constance with its popular summer boating and autumn Bodensee wines. The Schwabische Alb forest bordered the town to the north, and it was also just an hour east of the famous Black Forest with winter skiing and year-round hiking. Very close to Switzerland, the town was located at the very heart ofEurope. Tut-tlingen was close to many attractions, but in and ofitselfwas nothing special. No, Tuttlingen, where Oscar, Jorgen, and Horst grew up, could be best described by one all-encompassing word: mediocre.

Mediocrity, however, is good enough for many people. Many in this world would be perfectly happy to live a mediocre life, in comparison to a life of poverty, danger, and uncertainty. And in search for such a life, waves of immigration to developed nations over the centuries have been inspired by a quest for a stable, happy, mediocre life that unfortunately many citizens of the globe never enjoy. Therefore in many mediocre towns across the world, people live content, just knowing they are living normal, average lives, and that they could be doing a lot worse.

So for the majority of its citizens, the quiet, peaceful town of Tuttlingen and its nearby attractions, combined with its nature-scene picture-puzzle surroundings of small hills and dark forests, rivers, lakes, and mountains that changed with the seasons, offered ample activity, entertainment, and satisfaction. Food was plentiful, beer was good, people were safe, and simple as it was, life was certain.

For others, however, being mediocre is not enough. There are those who wish to break out of the mold, to succeed, to live an exceptional life, to be different from the rest. Perhaps not having lived the harsh realities of an impoverished life, they do not appreciate their mediocrity, but rather dream of superiority. Or maybe it is just part ofhuman nature or a process of evolution for some people to constantly seek to better themselves and to change their environment. The theories could go on and on for as long as an amateur or professional philosopher would like to delve into them, but the immediate point is that for that time and place, it can be said with certainty that Tuttlingen was mediocre, and that these three friends had wanted something more out oflife than they could find in their hometown.

It was during the summer of 1990, after finishing out the illustrious 80’s with a silent, triumphant return home that Oscar ran into Jorgen on a Saturday in the parking lot of the Sipplingen marina where they had both come back from sailing that morning. The two young bachelors, professional men raised in Tuttlingen, had been acquaintances in high school, but had never maintained contact afterward as each pursued his own independent course of self-actualization and escape from small town life. However at that moment they could not deny the one benefit a small town had: people would always recognize each other, however many years or decades had gone by.

Jorgen Weiss! Good to see you back in town. Oscar, though still son of one of the town’s preachers, was no longer the quiet boy he was back in school. As such, he had no trouble conversing with old acquaintances, now comfortable carrying a conversation with even the most popular of former high school classmates.

Hey, Oscar Klung, wie getz?

Gut, gut, trying to do a little sailing. Not much wind today though.

Yah, I know. The wind was not what the weather report said it would be.

So you just returned to town for awhile? Oscar figured Jorgen must have moved far away from Tuttlingen, just as he did.

Well actually I just moved back to the area a few months ago. I took a job with a new bank in Stuttgart and I come on the weekends.

Und where were you before?

Well, a lot of places. I studied in Frankfurt, and during that time I was traveling a lot, and then worked in Munich and Berlin. Jorgen’s voice was confident as he briefly fired off the summary of his recent years to Oscar.

Oh really, wow. Sounds very familiar. I spent some time working in Munich also, after coming back from the United States doing my service in Boston, then a few years in Hamburg. Oscar was proud to match Jorgen in his post-high-school bio.

Und now here we are, back in Tuttlingen! The two continued casually and amicably showing their feathers like two male birds on a branch for nearly a half hour outside the dock.

So is this your boat? Jorgen asked while patting the side of the sail boat.

Well, it is my parents’. We’ve had it for years. My parents do not sail as much anymore, but I still like to get out and take advantage that it is here.

Yah I know what you mean. This place really is great.

Und how is your brother doing? Oscar asked.

Horst? He’s fine. I never could get him to leave Tuttlingen to live somewhere else with me, although he almost always came with me on my vacation travels.

Und what his he doing now?

Well, the typical. He’s making instruments. He likes it, works at his own pace, no politics or anything like that, simple and straightforward, Jorgen replied.

He still lifting weights?

Yah, he’s pretty big now.

So you going to be in town next weekend?

"Yah, klar. And we should meet up and sail. This looks like a great boat to go »

out on."

Sure, sounds gut. Fertig. The two exchanged numbers, and Jorgen left to head back to Tuttlingen.

Oscar walked out to the marina again to take in another view of the lake, thinking about how the lake had been such a large part