Leaf-Cutter Ants and a Machete-wielding Carpenter

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

(Click on photos to enlarge)

         What a hodge-podge of leftover details I have to write about today. We have spent some time this afternoon cleaning our small chalet since our housekeeper called yesterday to say she was “muy inferma” or very sick, and couldn’t come today. Dunia suffers from asthma so in preparation for the arrival of our good friends, Penny & Joel, we were left with the housecleaning, a minor task really. Penny and Joel, aka P & J, are on final approach to Juan Santamaria International Airport as I write this, heading for some quality time tonight with their family in San Jose. Penny’s nephew Greg and his wife Amanda have just had their first baby, a little boy named Lincoln, who must be about three weeks old now. Penny’s sister Karen and her husband, Greg’s parents, are also here on a visit and we have plans to join all of them in San Jose tomorrow for what promises to be a festive evening together. And since Amanda is the Assistant Director of the Peace Corps here in Costa Rica, I hope to get some ideas from her on worthwhile volunteer opportunities.

         On Thursday, P & J will come out to Atenas to overnight here before they head up to Monteverde for a night in the cloud forest and then on to the beaches in the northwest province of Guanacaste. Ah, the life of the tourista!

         For us Gringo locals, life goes on as usual in our little paradise. In my last post, I mentioned the green mangos that Dunia had brought to us. Not knowing just how to use an unripe fruit, I turned to the Internet, of course, and learned that in Nicaragua they use these mangos for a “refresco,” a drink similar to what Gilberto prepared for us using the tangy citrus fruit in our front yard. With the mangos, the drink is more frothy but it has a delightful tart freshness that really quenches the thirst. We plan to try adding a little rum tonight, just for flavor!

         A week or so ago, our thoughtful landlady Hazel (with Kat above) surprised us with two fine-looking wooden slab tables for our patio and a large piece of the same wood to serve as another table top out in the yard on top of a tree stump. The wood is the beautifully grained madera called Guanacaste and for which Guanacaste province is named. Hazel was so cute telling us, with a devilish smile, that she knew we needed something to put our drinks on in the evening. And she also thought we might like to take our tall bar stools out to the tree stump table so as to have a different angle on our ocean vista and sunset. She had arranged for her friend Manual to come by after work to affix the wood slab to the stump. Exactly on schedule, I heard a voice at the gate and quickly went to let Manual in. Using his handy machete, Manual carved shims and nailed them on to level the wood and soon we had a new table.

         As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, Costa Rica definitely has a large insect population and we recently had occasion to meet one of the most destructive of the pests. While Kate and Gilberto were here last week, they observed that a few plants in our garden showed damage caused by leaf-cutter ants and cautioned us that the little beasts could devastate foliage overnight. Sitting out at dusk the other night, we noticed a brigade (well, Layne thinks it was a full division!) of the creatures marching along the path just beneath our long patio bench, each of them carrying a chunk of leaf much larger than themselves. They were clearly on a mission! Using the flashlight, we followed them along the incredibly long trail they traced, across our lawn, around the palm tree, over the driveway, across the other yard and down to the bottom of a concrete abutment where they apparently have their nest. While we regret the damage they are doing to our plants, primarily a poinsettia bush, you have to be impressed with their industry, their teamwork and their determination.

         Kate had recommended a product called Mirex, which we found at a local garden shop, but when Layne looked it up online, he found that it is such a toxic poison, it has been banned in most countries around the world. Again, we have to shake our heads in dismay at the pesticides that are used in Costa Rica. Could the use of such products be connected to Dunia’s asthma? One might suspect as much. We plan to return the Mirex and hopefully substitute a more organic product to discourage our leaf-cutter friends.

         And finally, let me tell you about some of the birds we have here. You’ll recall the four Toucans, which served as a greeting party for us on our first night. Since then, although the Toucans have not returned, we have enjoyed watching several stunning yellow-breasted birds that come around each evening. A clay-colored robin-type bird, the national bird of Costa Rica named the Yigüirro, is also a familiar sight and sound. It was given status as the official bird in 1977 due to its strong and melodious calls that signal the start of the rainy season and because it lives so close to Costa Rican homes and is so familiar to Ticos. This little guy has such a loud voice that my mother can even hear its song during our Sunday Magic Jack telephone calls. Then there is the striking orange-breasted bird, an Oriole look-alike, which sits high in a nearby tree but is too shy to land on our fence. So it was a pair of the yellow guys that agreed to “pose” for a portrait for the blog. Hope you enjoy! 

Mango Ceviche and Hiking an Old Oxcart Trail

Saturday, March 27, 2010

(Click on photos to enlarge.)

Where else but in Costa Rica would your new housekeeper, who has cleaned your home only once, bring you a gift of green mangos and homemade green mango ceviche? Perhaps there are other countries where such kindness and generosity would manifest, but I was certainly surprised and delighted when our diminutive maid Dunia, who lives just across the street from us, (see photo left) stood at our gate yesterday calling my name and holding a bag of fresh mangos plucked from her tree along with a delicious dish of chopped green mangos in a spicy citrus sauce. I’m embarrassed to tell you how little she had charged us for three hours of steady good work. Indeed, we feel compelled to give her a raise and we consider her another one of the wonderful benefits of our life here in Alto del Monte.

           Her cleaning job came one day before our friends Kate and Gilberto paid us a visit, just a week after our trip to see them in their remote mountain village of La Estrella (see post at http://fabulistadecr.blogspot.com/2010/03/monster-moths-in-mountain-cabin.html). We didn’t know what time they might arrive on Wednesday since the drive they faced would take them through the wooly streets of Cartago and San Jose, probably a 3-hour trip in the best of vehicles. And their ancient Subaru sedan, named Goldie for Goldilocks, is cantankerous on hills, prone to overheating and loaded with clatters and clanks. Definitely not the “best” of vehicles!

         Fortunately, Kate has a cell phone so she kept us apprised of their progress. Her first report came at about 2:30 p.m. when she called to say they had been driving in circles in San Jose, confused by the new one-way streets. The good news was they had finally found the route out of town and were heading for Atenas, which should take perhaps another hour. When they arrived, she called for further directions. Now remember, we have no addresses here, nor even many street names so here’s what we tell the taxi drivers: Alto del Monte, pasado Cantina Linda Vista, la casa con muro de piedras grande, which means the barrio of Alto del Monte, past the Linda Vista bar, the house with the big rock wall. Think you could find us?

         They would have been all right except for Goldie overheating on the steep grades leading to our location. When they stopped to ask directions, somehow Gilberto failed to fully engage the emergency brake and suddenly Kate, still in the car combing her hair, realized it was rolling backwards! She managed to untangle herself from bags and purse enough to get her foot on the brake, stopping just inches from the small store where they had parked. When she called again, she was a bit flustered from the near miss but eventually, with no more mishaps, they arrived at our gate.

         We spent a lovely evening, talking, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. My Spanish improved by leaps and bounds, thanks to Gilberto’s persistence and Kate’s translations. I had made a Creamy Chorizo and Chicken soup and, of course, Gallo Pinto for dinner, which we devoured out on the patio, watching a magnificent sunset. Although I know they love their cool climate and secluded bungalow up in the mountains, I do think they both appreciated the warm ocean breezes that allowed us to linger outside for hours.

         In our front yard, there are some mysterious fruit trees that Layne and I have wondered about, being lemony in appearance but varying in color from green to orange to yellow, and in size from small as limes to grapefruit huge. I asked Gilberto what they were and he proceeded to pluck a few and prepare a wonderful drink he called “fresco,” which is a generic term apparently for many fresh fruit drinks here. He chopped up some fresh ginger, unpeeled, and whirled that along with a small amount of water in our blender. Then he squeezed juice from the fruits, the names of which I never fully grasped, and added that plus a raw sugar product called “dulce.” After straining this liquid, the result was one of the most refreshing drinks I’ve ever tasted! 

         That afternoon we took a walk down the road through the small Tico village here. With the advantages of having two Spanish-speaking friends along who could converse easily with the locals, we learned some fascinating history about our barrio and particularly the street on which Layne and I take our regular hikes. It turns out that this narrow road was once the main highway down which the now-famous colorfully painted oxcarts carried loads of coffee beans from San Jose to the port of Puntarenas. Although parts of it have asphalt covering now, much of the original stone and concrete surface remains visible, as seen in the photo below. A local hombre named Oscar (shown on the right in the photo) chatted with Gilberto for fifteen minutes or more, laying out historical details of the area. He himself had been born, he said, in the first house on the road, a dilapidated wooden structure which we pass each day on our walks.

         With Semana Santa (Easter or Holy Week) coming up, Oscar mentioned that this road in past years would be bumper to bumper with Ticos heading for the beaches. Now that better roads have been built around the country, especially the new Caldera Toll Road, the traffic here is sparse and the neighborhood quiet and peaceful.

         On Friday, we all piled into Goldie and headed for Atenas for a delicious breakfast at Kay’s Gringo café and to allow Kate to exchange some of her enormous book collection at Kay’s lending library. Afterwards, Layne and I headed to the ferias (markets) and Kate and Gilberto took off for a short visit with his son who lives here. From there, they would return to La Estrella, hopefully with good memories of a visit to our tropical paradise and its colorful Costa Rican history.

         

Storm Clouds, Coffee Silos and New Amigos

Monday, March 22, 2010

Happy First Day of Spring! Here in Costa Rica we are apparently heading into the rainy season already. Last night we sat out on our patio sharing a bottle of Chilean wine with our Gringo neighbor, watching the lightning flash across the nearby mountains and hearing the thunder roll. When the rains arrived, it was pretty torrential for a while so we moved indoors. Of course, I actually like the dramatic weather and with the overhang covering part of our terrace, we can enjoy these tropical downpours without getting wet. As we head into late afternoon here today, the distant thunder has begun again and clouds are moving in so more showers are likely tonight.

         When we rented this place some four miles outside the town of Atenas, we thought we were at some distance from any real neighborhood. But it turns out that we reside in a small community known as Alto del Monte (loosely translated as “high on the mountain”), a Tico area with a few long-time Gringos residents scattered about. On Saturday as we headed out for our walk, we met the same tall, lanky American with whom we had shared a taxi on our Friday trip to town, walking up the steep driveway of our next door neighbor’s beautiful estate. It turns out Bob works as a gardener for the Gringo/Tico family that has this elegant home adjoining our more modest property. Bob and his Tica wife Ellie and their two charming young daughters have a lovely small home on the slope just above the road along which we take our almost-daily stroll. An interesting feature of this street is the old coffee silo along the side of the road located just below the ubiquitous rows of coffee plants on the hillsides. 

         As we stopped to chat, Bob invited us to a neighborhood event that night, a party with music and dancing and chicharrones (a barbequed pork dish) being held as a benefit for the local school. We had often walked by the tiny schoolhouse without realizing what it was, although it sports a Costa Rican flag out front and has a sign up for Bingo on Sundays. According to Bob, who volunteers at the school teaching English one day a week, there are only 16 students in the single classroom, ranging from first through sixth grades. He tells us that they have six students graduating this year and only two new pupils next year. Small, indeed!

         Later that day, we headed to town to pick up a few items and as we wandered along, I noticed a darling dress in a store window. I’ve been hoping to find some light-weight cotton dresses like I see on so many attractive Ticas so in we went and with some strategic encouragement by the salesgirls, we bought two vestidos, one in denim and another in a turquoise blue and light purple print with a plunging neckline that seemed perfect for the party. We’ve noticed how much cleavage Costa Rican women tend to display, young and old, so I felt like I’d fit right in! As my great-grandmother always said, if you’ve got it, flaunt it!

         That evening, as we made our way down the road toward the schoolyard, we could hear the Latin rhythms and the sound of laughter ahead. The luscious smell of roasting pork greeted us, along with a group of smiling Ticos. We soon found Bob and his daughters eating dinner at a picnic table and were delighted with his kids’ excellent English and gregarious manner. Seated along with Bob was a young Gringo named Dan who is working for an international program that will be sending volunteers soon. His job is to scout out the communities and determine what the most pressing needs are. Dan is living at the estate next door to us and it has been his daily swims in the pool that we’ve observed, including his signature back flip dive. 

         It would have been bad form for us to take photos so you’ll just have to take my word that the evening had the feel of a classic Tico fiesta with the cerveza flowing and much good cheer all around. We met numbers of our neighbors, such as Norma, a beautiful woman with curly black hair who remembered us from a chance meeting on the road a few days earlier when she was carrying her small nino in a sling on her chest. We also met her handsome 20’ish son Miguel, illustrating the range of her children's ages. Later I got into a conversation in Spanish (if you can call my limited vocabulary a “conversation”) with Carlos, an older gentleman whose nice home we pass on our walks down the road. Some kind of flowers in his yard give off a most enchanting fragrance but we have no idea what they are. He called his sister over and we enjoyed a few laughs as I struggled to understand their patient efforts to communicate. They were delightful!

         Among the Gringos present at the party were Kitty and Bruce, who own a fabulous big red-roofed house at the end of the road, which we can see from our hilltop chalet. We were thrilled to learn that they do animal rescue here and provide dog and cat immunizations and spay and neuter clinics virtually free to local residents. In fact, they have some 22 animals in their care at present. They also provide services to horses and cattle.

         According to Kitty, it has been a slow but steady educational process, aimed mostly at the children, to sensitize them to the need for better care of their companion animals. “I tell them,” she said, “just as you feel bad when you get sick, so does your dog. And your mom takes you to the doctor, right? Well, you need to take your dog to the doctor, too.”

         The number of strays we’ve seen here in Costa Rica and their poor condition has been of deep concern to Layne and me, especially back in San Rafael de Heredia, where homeless dogs wandered the streets. I look forward to working with Kitty in her ongoing efforts to improve the lives of the animals here. The next clinic is April 4th and I expect to be there, holding doggy paws and comforting kittens.

         

Monster Moths in a Mountain Cabin

Friday, March 19, 2010

(Click on photos to enlarge)

Nothing like a trip away to make you appreciate “home,” at least weather-wise. We returned last night from a two-day visit to a small pueblo in the mountains outside Cartago where our friends Kate and Gilberto reside in their hand-built rustic bungalow, surrounded by jungle and filled with local artwork. Kate (aka Kathi Galante) is Layne’s ex-wife, his first spouse of some 40-plus years ago, and Gilberto is her Spanish-speaking Tico husband. Kate tells us that the locals find her and Gilberto’s friendship with us odd indeed since they are immersed in a machismo culture from an early age and cordial relations with exes is almost unheard of. But from my first acquaintance with them four years ago on our initial trip to Costa Rica, I found Kate and Gilberto absolutely delightful! She is a linguistic genius, the master of several languages, and he is a dashing Latin hombre of many talents, from mechanical device repair to philosophy to fine art. Plus, over many years Kate has cultivated a unique and valuable role in their small village of La Estrella (which means “The Star”) by developing a wonderful theater program for the children. She showed us photos from “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” which they did a few years ago, with adorable kids in brightly colored satin costumes (made, of course, by a local Tica mother) dancing about on the small stage in the village community center. Using lush green branches from regional tropical plants adorned with twinkling holiday lights, she and the children had created a perfect backdrop for the fairy dancers. As her next production, Kate hopes to produce “Beauty and the Beast,” but she qualifies that ambitious goal with the following caveat: she will attempt it IF she can muster the energy once again to re-write and condense the script for children and for a small theater, choreograph and teach the dances, handle the rehearsals (in spite of some obstructionism from the local priest who doesn’t fully approve of these goings-on) and mount the production - all for only one performance, as that is the size of this small town audience. It’s an inspiration to see how much she accomplishes having so little with which to work and how much the children adore her. Our sombreros are off to her and her sweet and competent assistant Jessica!

         La Estrella sits in a tiny valley far up in the mountains of Costa Rica, with the blue-and-white metal Catholic Church, small school and soccer field centered in the basin and colorful but modest Tico houses scattered up the steep hillsides. Kate and Gilberto’s home is far up the mountain, so high on a ridge they have views of another valley on the backside of the house. The weather is cool, the air moist with cloud cover much of the time. I found myself in layers of tee shirt, sweatshirt and long pants, wondering how Kate could be comfortable in a light cotton dress. She claims that I would get adjusted to the temperatures, but somehow I doubt it. I was very happy to return to the warm and balmy climate here in Atenas.

         Insects were our constant companions in La Estrella. Kate claims the vast majority of the animals in this beautiful country are the creepy-crawly kind. Some were gorgeous, such as the huge Atlas moth, as big as a man’s hand, which first parked on the wall, then landed on a lamp and later flew around over dinner. Believe me, it is quite exotic to dine with such a fabulously beautiful creature hovering nearby! Others were very strange, including a preying mantis-type animal that was so thin and twig-like, I never would have guessed it to be a living creature except that Gilberto called me to the window and pointed it out, laughing at my amazed reaction.

         The bus ride back from La Estrella was an adventure in itself. The views were incredible, at every turn lush green mountains covered in tropical trees, occasional cattle in verdant pastures, tiny mountain villages, sheer cliffs along which our driver edged oh-so-close to the precipitous rim. But we never felt in danger, despite the steep terrain. Still, our efforts to take photos were foiled by the bumpy dirt road and the hairpin curves.

         We were fortunate in all our bus connections: La Estrella to Cartago, Cartago to San Jose, San Jose to Atenas, all in about three hours, costing only $12.50 for both of us. We love the Costa Rica bus system! When we arrived, our little chalet looked very welcoming, sunshine streaming in and a brisk breeze blowing. It was good to be home.

         Today we headed into town for the feria, or farmers’ market. On the way, our taxi was slowed by a police roadblock, the result of a car theft in our neighborhood earlier today. Although we weren’t happy with that news, we were impressed with the quick police action. You wouldn’t find a police barricade on Los Angeles streets after a simple car theft!

         We picked up the organic order we placed last week of broccoli and spinach, green onions, fresh wheat bread, eggs and pina (pineapple) chutney then walked a few blocks to the park where numerous local vendors had their home-grown products on display. There we picked up fresh corvina (sea bass) for dinner along with bananas, chilies dulce (sweet chilies) and some homemade cookies. It promises to be a delicious meal this evening! 

Salsa Dancers and Chirping Bats!

Monday, March 15, 2010

         The palm fronds are shivering in the brisk ocean breeze today and a wispy fog has begun rolling up off the Pacific. This place has us intoxicated with sensuous pleasures and the manana lifestyle makes the discipline needed for writing a blog difficult to muster at times, like today. Still, there are things to convey and excitement to share so I shall attempt to cover the last few days for you.

         We have had quite a lovely weekend, in fact, with a Saturday evening out dancing and a delicious Sunday chicken dinner here at home. There have been sunny days with abundant birds to watch and time for sunbathing with a good book and luxurious evenings of watching the bats flit around catching mosquitoes. I read online recently that of the 200 varieties of mammals in Costa Rica, over half of them are bats! We hear them chirping above us and hope they are not making themselves too much at home in our upper floor.

         On Friday, we made a trip into town after a long wait for the bus at the corner below the chalets. The wait was not that the bus was late but that Layne had mis-read the schedule! But eventually, and for only about $1.25 for both of us, we arrived at the downtown parada (bus station) ready to explore. Our first stop was Kay’s Gringo Postre, the local expat gathering place and eatery owned by a pleasant couple from South Dakota, Kay and Tom Costello. (Thanks to http://gonzosincostarica.blogspot.com/ for this photo.)  Their breakfast is extravagant and delicious! Not perhaps as cheap as Tico fare but a satisfying repast for sure. One of the main attractions of Kay’s is the lending library, a vast selection of fiction and non-fiction that spans three walls of the dining area. It’s all based on the honor system: you bring a book, you take a book. If you don’t have one to bring, you take one then you have one to bring back. It works!

         The main purpose of our trip to town, however, was to check out the organic farmers’ market we had learned of and to put in our order for the next week. It’s a sad truth that most Costa Rican farmers have turned heavily to pesticides. With this climate and rich volcanic soil, it does beg the question, Why? But Montsanto and Dow are nothing if not marketing geniuses and the lure of bigger and better fruits and veggies appeals to all but the most savvy gardeners. You will recall the push for increased crop yields that was billed as The Green Revolution back in the 70’s and 80’s, promising a magical means to feed the burgeoning world population. Sure, just add poison!

         According to a 2007 study done at the University of Toronto, pesticides used in lowland farming in Costa Rica and other countries are carried on air currents to higher elevations where they precipitate out in the form of rain. They then accumulate in the upland ecosystems and are now suspected as a cause in the declining amphibian populations in the cloud forests of this beautiful country. (See more here: http://news.mongabay.com/2007/0121-cr.html)

         As former organic gardeners ourselves, clean food and free-range meats are very important to Layne and me so we were thrilled to learn of this small organic effort here in Atenas. The lovely proprietor, whose name we failed to get, holds her market in their open-air garage, taking weekly orders on a printed list of offerings. Lucky for us, she had a few extra items this week so we were able to pick up two packages of homemade ravioli, one huge organic chicken and a half-pint of delicious homemade Smoked Chipotle Salsa. Using the last of this yummy salsa last night, I concocted a tasty sauce for some plain old chicken thighs and leg sections we had bought at the Super Mercado. We decided I had won the Iron Chef challenge for pulling together a bunch of unlikely ingredients into a successful dish.

         On our Friday visit to town, we had learned that Kay and Tom were hosting a St. Patrick’s Day dance on Saturday evening at the cafe. So off we went to celebrate the Irish with good music and good company. The DJ-hosted song selections were by request and ranged from rock-and-roll to Latin, with some 50’s classics thrown in. The crowd was mostly Gringos but a few Ticas were there as well. One Tica woman’s beautiful daughter and her Tico boyfriend came along late in the evening and danced salsa like finalists on Dancing With The Stars. They were a fantastic sight to see! We made a few new friends and enjoyed the evening immensely. We understand that Kay’s hosts a dance once a month so you’ll no doubt find us there again next month with our dancing shoes on and our spirits high.

         

Toucan Welcoming Committee

(Note to readers: Click on photos to enlarge.)

Thursday, March 11, 2010

         Much has happened, both good and bad, since my last post. Although I was past the worst of the intestinal distress by Saturday afternoon, Layne’s difficulties lasted another two days, forcing us to contemplate a trip to a Costa Rican doctor. Then on Monday, I was hit with a nameless malaise that had me in bed with chills and general misery but with few specific symptoms. We still don’t know what caused my discomfort but it served as a lesson on the perils of food in foreign countries, not that we really know what food it was. Different people, different symptoms; still it made us nervous about eating out. Even in Costa Rica, where the water is good and the people are clean, it gives one pause. I was certainly glad when by Tuesday morning, I was beginning to pull out of it.

         And none too soon since our much-anticipated moving day was coming right up. On Wednesday morning, after turning in our keys at Villa Roma, we loaded our hired van up with luggage and headed for Atenas where our real estate friends, Dennis and Gerardo, were awaiting our arrival to drive us to the new casa. Our charming landlady Hazel was here with beautiful cut flowers and fresh bananas to greet us in this lovely chalet. But when we tried to pay our rent with American Express Travelers Checks, we learned that the banks in Costa Rica have a policy of holding such payments for anywhere from 25 to 45 days! Needless to say, Hazel was hoping for a rent payment in dollars or colones. After some deliberation, Hazel offered to take us to the bank in town in the hopes of changing the travelers checks into negotiable cash. So off we went in her well-traveled Jeep-type vehicle, banging over the rough spots with aplomb.

         No problem at the bank! With Layne’s passport and signature on the checks, we soon had our month’s rent paid in colones and were off to the super-mercado (grocery store) for some shopping while Hazel patiently waited for us outside, drinking a cerveza and making real estate calls. Talk about a great landlady!

         We arrived back at our new home and with drink in hand, moved outside to the terrace to begin our new life in Atenas. And what a life it promises to be! Our chalet is positioned high on a cliff so that birds fly by at eye level. We soon had hummers, brown robins, yellow-breasted somethings, an occasional blue bird of some sort and completely manic swallows, flitting here and there capturing bugs for their dinner. The sun was setting over the Pacific against a haze of clouds and the breeze was wafting up the canyon, cooling the late afternoon warmth. As I glanced over Layne’s shoulder, I recognized a Toucan that had just landed in our backyard tree! What an exotic sight with his magnificent curved beak and colorful breast. Then three more joined him, hopping from limb to limb. Four Toucans in our garden! What is this? Paradise?

         The “sounds of life” here are amazing - frogs, crickets, birds of all voices from chirpers to cacklers. We even have a big brown robin that visits our garden for worms and bugs, bravely hopping along only a few feet from us. (He’s here right now as I write this.)  This morning I watched him pounce on a worm and gobble it up before the wiggler knew what hit it!

         But the most incredible sound last night had us fooled. As the late afternoon sun faded in the distance, we began to hear a loud bird or … what? A sound like we had never heard before started out in chopping sounds and swelled into a shrieking continuous howl that actually made Layne’s hearing aide noise circuits cut out! What the heck was that? We tried to imagine a bird that could possible create such a noise! Well, today we learned it was undoubtedly a howler monkey. Indeed, they are out again tonight and add a unique, if raucous, sound to the evening’s entertainment. We surmise that they live in the dense jungles below us.

         This morning I was awakened just before seven a.m. by the certain sound of gunfire - two, three shots fired just below our property. What on earth? Since there was no going back to sleep, I arose to make coffee and see what was happening in the neighborhood. As I looked out over the railing, I saw several men beneath the trees handling a large heavy carcass, obviously a cow. While I watched in fascination, the men pulled and tugged on the legs of the animal to turn it on its back as another man began to cut the dead animal down the center of its belly. This was more than I could stand to watch but clearly, they had just harvested one of their cattle for meat and were about to butcher it.

         Over the course of the morning, we checked on their progress and sure enough, working as a team, the five or six men skinned and carved the cow into its edible parts and carried them away. As we sipped our coffee, we watched as dozens of vultures began to circle above, heads cocked to watch the progress below them. Numbers of them perched, vulture-like, in a dead tree nearby, waiting and watching. At one point, the men threw some of the innards into a clearing and the hungry birds quickly swooped in to devour it. Then after all the inedible parts had been collected, another man, with the last of the guts in a wheelbarrow, hauled it down to the clearing for the birds to clean up. As the men - and we - watched, some thirty or forty or more birds converged on the waste parts, fighting greedily, beaks viciously pulling each piece apart.

         By now, the men had become aware of us watching them and we’d joined them in laughing at the gluttonous vultures and waving down at them in camaraderie. For after all, this cow had had a good life on open pasture, was not subjected to cruel and filthy stockyard treatment, had no antibiotics or poisons in its system and had been fortunate to receive a quick and humane death. Now, in the way of nature, it would be used to perpetuate the lives of other creatures. It may not have been pretty but it was a very educational and somewhat profound experience. Pura Vida indeed.

Earthquakes and Egrets and Illness, Oh My!

Saturday, March 6, 2010

         Layne and I are both suffering from, putting it delicately, intestinal distress today, he more than me, poor baby. As our neighbor coyly put it the other day when speaking in front of a small girl, the “d” word that ends in “a” with a lot of “r’s” in the middle. Apparently a few other Gringos here at the Villas have also had a bout of diarrhea since coming here.

         It’s the money, I think. One must be wary in handling money, especially in Latin countries. Money is very dirty, literally and figuratively. I would say the dirtiness of money is a metaphor for the ills of the world. Money is soiled by its passage through many filthy hands, all smudging it with their greed and hunger and covetousness.

         I remember well how desperately ill I became on a trip to Cancun with my mother some years ago. At the time, I was still a nail-biter and it was from putting my fingers in my mouth, I’m sure, that I contracted what is often called Montezuma’s Revenge. I was so sick I honestly wished I would die. My poor mother was distraught, helplessly watching me retch over and over and moan and wallow in bed in agony, all while losing precious vacation time. Within a day or two, I recovered but it was one of the lessons in hygiene that led to my current status as a recovered nail-nibbler.

         (In our case, I’ve since decided it was poorly prepared ceviche last night. Watch out for the raw fish. Ugh.)

         Yesterday Layne and I took a walk using our new GPS device and along the way, we stopped for him to get a haircut at a small local salon. With one person in the chair and another one in line, we had quite a wait, offering us an opportunity to practice the Costa Rican slogan: Patience, patience, patience and always carry an umbrella. While I passed the time, I picked up La Nacion newspaper and was surprised at how much I was able to make sense of the Spanish-language reporting. The top story related to the cover photograph of the Costa Rican legislature in session with a couple of lawmakers in discussion. The report said that one member was explaining to another about the need for the new traffic law currently under debate and which has been changed dramatically from one day to the next. First, it included stiff fines and instituted a “point system” for infractions similar to what we have in the US. Next, there was talk of lowering the fines and eliminating the point system, or reducing the points for violations, based on concerns for people who must drive to work or risk losing a job. Who knows where it stands today? Being constantly on alert for speeding and reckless drivers as we walk around town, Layne and I do hope that they introduce some kind of stringent rules to slow down the traffic and to encourage greater caution on the part of drivers. For all the many civilized aspects of life in Costa Rica, the driving here is really atrocious. I wonder at the number of dogs, cats and children endangered each day by such wild drivers.

         We experienced our first Costa Rican earthquake last night. It was about 10:45 and I had just set my book aside and turned out the light. The wind was truly howling outside, another of those gusty, blustery nights that we’ve experienced here. Then suddenly, it felt as if the wind had hit a new high and was literally shaking the building. But the tremor lasted several seconds more than a wind gust and I said aloud: “Oh, it’s an earthquake!” This one never gained strength or hit a loud and sharp jolt like other major quakes I have felt in my life in California. It simply shook the house for perhaps 8 seconds and then died back down; I’m guessing it was about a 3.5 Richter level. I’ve tried to find a news report on it this morning but nothing appeared in the English-language papers; perhaps I’ll try reading the La Nacion online to see if they have a report.

         Another story in yesterday’s La Nacion was on the recent swarm of tremors around Irazu Volcano, about which I wrote in my last post. A front page headline led to the story on page thirteen where a map with red dots showed all the places the small quakes had been felt down the side of the volcano. There were more than I had realized, perhaps 12 or 15, and I would guess that last night’s tremor here was part of the same flurry of activity Irazu is currently exhibiting. We shall say a prayer today to Costa Rica’s “Pele” that Her restlessness will soon diminish. (Attached graphic is from La Nacion website.)

         (Update: According to La Nacion, last night’s temblor measured 4.4 on the Richter scale and was centered near Sabinilla in the Central Valley below Irazu Volcano, somewhat southeast of us.)

         (Above is a photo of the longhorn cattle next door. Note the white Cattle Egret feasting on bugs at their feet. A symbiotic relationship.)

Happy Costa Ricans!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

         So check this out: in the last blog post I talked about Irazu Volcano, right? The sleeping giant just a few thousand feet up the slope from us. And I bragged, perhaps prematurely, that it has been quiet since 1996. Well, in the last couple of days, local residents in towns on the flanks of Irazu have felt a series of small earthquakes! Now that could mean nothing or it could mean … Dum, ta dum dum … Something!

         Of course, none of these tremors have been more than 3.0 on the Richter scale, so likely it’s just the Goddess of Irazu sighing or shaking her hair a bit. But it does make for a little drama in Costa Rican life.

         We took another trip to the mall today, still searching for clothes for me better suited to the climate. (On our next trip, I’ll pack heavy on loose-fitting cotton shorts and lighter on jeans and jackets.) Once again we needed help in selecting the right bus. The red and white one that pulled up to the stop had signs in the window for locations we never heard of, with nothing about central Heredia, our destination. But as we shook our heads and backed away from the door, a woman from the nearby shop asked where we were going and when we said “Heredia,” she urged us onto the bus, saying it would get us there. And indeed it did, leaving us unclear as to the meaning of the window signs. Obviously, we still have a lot to learn about the bus system.

         While waiting on a bench for the bus, a woman and her little girl walked up. I moved over and said to the child, who was perhaps five years old, “Sentado?” offering her a seat by me. Like many Costa Rican children we’ve seen, she was stunningly beautiful, big dark eyes, straight black hair, exotic olive complexion. But oh, so shy. Still, she took the seat by me and now and then looked up to meet my ready smile. After we were seated on the bus, in what were very tight seats (one of the major differences in the various buses is comfort level), another woman and her little girl sat down in front of us. Perhaps four years old, this nina had dark brown curly hair, pulled up into little ponytails on each side of her head, sparkling (could they be diamonds?) earrings decorating her small pierced ears. Sitting in her mother’s lap, she would peek over her mom’s shoulder to flirt with Layne, a bashful smile animating her pretty face. With saucy Latin music wafting through the bus for a change, and our timid little friend flashing those pretty eyes our way, our ride into Heredia was most entertaining.

         Layne and I theorized that these happy children could explain the January 7^th New York Times report that Costa Ricans are the happiest people in the world, according to three different surveys in recent months. (See story here: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/07/opinion/07kristof.html. The US came in 20^th on one, just for comparison.) If children are loved, as these clearly were, are well-fed and comfortably housed, as most Costa Rican children are, have the security of government-sponsored, excellent health care, as they do, enjoy the benefits of free education, as Costa Ricans have, and live in a country without warfare since they abolished their army in 1948, there is every chance they will grow up to be happy adults. This is not to say, of course, that all Costa Ricans are happy nor that there is not poverty in this beautiful land. We see the shantytown below the bridge on the way into San Jose and it’s not a pretty sight. But fortunately, it is a rare sight.

         Here in San Rafael de Heredia, we see parents walking children to school and back home every day. The kids are in uniform, dark pants and white shirt, a policy Americans could learn from since it eliminates the kind of competitiveness over clothing - of all things! - that we see in the USA. As we stroll along residential streets here, the houses are not fancy but they are secure. The kids are not inside watching TV or playing video games so much as they are outside playing soccer, a national obsession.

         The young adults we have met have generally been in college or working as was Roy, the pleasant young man who sold us our GPS device at the mall. His efforts to practice English and mine to practice Spanish resulted in some humorous exchanges but we did communicate, due more to his advanced English than my pathetic Spanish, I must say. At one point as I was struggling with a Spanish phrase, Layne said to me: “He speaks English, you know.”

         “Yes,” I answered, with Roy smiling in agreement, “but I’m trying to practice my Spanish on him and he’s practicing English on me!”

          We’ve lusted after a GPS unit ever since riding with Jean-Pierre, our real estate friend, out to Grecia. (See post http://fabulistadecr.blogspot.com/2010/02/in-search-of-perfect-rental.html) As I’ve mentioned before, Costa Rican streets generally have no identification, no numbers and no names. But Jean-Pierre drove through the maze of San Jose streets using his dashboard-mounted GPS, confidently following the pathways delineated by the device. We were pretty wowed and realized that, despite the price, a GPS would be invaluable to us in this unfamiliar country.

         So we now have our GPS, I have a new pair of shorts, and my Spanish is improving every day. (Can’t say the same for Layne’s, however!) We’re still evaluating Costa Rica as a permanent residence, but if measured by the happiness of the people here, it’s a big winner.