by Jurgen Ureña | Oct 25, 2026 | Articles
In the early 1980s, when I visited my aunt Yolanda’s house, Cartago was the city of mists. People did not call it that then. That came later. Back then, chilly afternoons arrived wrapped in a veil of vapor that softened everything: the streets, the buses, the...
by Emma Tristán | Oct 21, 2026 | Articles
In Madrid’s Puerta del Sol, a tropical downpour had flooded the pavement. Large white tarps, stretched with ropes, covered the tents. Beneath the blue and green canvas sheets, hand-painted signs and groups of people formed a small, improvised community. In the...
by Emma Tristán | Oct 18, 2026 | Articles
Our Supreme Court is clad in a stone that was born from water. It has been so since the building opened its doors in 1966. This rock, known as travertine, ranges in color from gray to cream and pink, marked by veins and irregularities. Before arriving in San José, it...
by Jurgen Ureña | Oct 7, 2026 | Articles
In the early nineties, I was a projectionist at one of the University of Costa Rica’s cinemas that offered a second life to films. In those days, amid beams of light and rolls of celluloid, I received some of the best lessons I remember. That is how Taxi Driver...
by Alise Rojas | Oct 5, 2026 | Articles
The phrases that I have heard the most recently in short conversations with neighbors and acquaintances have been: “what a downpour!”, “how it has rained these days” or “it has not stopped raining”. What we used to expect as the...
by Emma Tristán | Oct 2, 2026 | Articles
A few weeks ago, we visited the National Museum with my nieces, Fátima, who is six, and Valentina, who is ten. We intentionally visited only part of it, hoping to leave them wanting to come back. Sometimes, less is more. We stopped in front of a photograph...
