Celebrating a Saint, Costa Rica Style

In Costa Rica most every little pueblo has its own Catholic saint, no surprise given the number of towns with "San" or "Santa" in its name. You have our own Santa Eulalia, for example, along with dozens of San Rafael's, San Carlos', Santa Elena's, San Ramon's, Santa Cruz's and, of course, San Jose's, including the nation's capital city. Each year most all of these communities set aside a few days to honor their saint with a fiesta for the whole town and anyone else who wants to join in.

The church in San Isidro

Thus it was that most of the Santa Eulalia gang (minus Marc, who stayed home, and Eroca, who is currently back in Canada) made our way to San Isidro de Atenas last Sunday for the final day of their "saint's day" celebration in honor of Saint Isidore, the patron saint of farmers. San Isidro is a beautiful little barrio located at almost 3700' high in the mountains above downtown Atenas. Atenas is also the name of our canton, or county, so just as our barrio is Santa Eulalia de Atenas, so San Isidro needs that identifier to separate it from all the other San Isidro's in Costa Rica.

When we arrived by taxi, the church service was just finishing up and much of the town was out in force, on motorcycles, bicycles, cars and pickup trucks. Marcial and Seidy, it turned out, were acquainted with Doña Rosa, who had cooked huge pots of food for the event and we were ushered into her kitchen to tempt our palates for later.

Doña Rosa in the kitchen

As we wandered around we discovered one of the big attractions for the day was to be 4x4 mud races on a muddy track in a large open space, previously a soccer field, in the cradle of steep hills. Spectators were already perched around the sides of the basin ready for the day's action, but since we had a hike to do, we decided to return later when we were sure the races would still be on.

So with our intrepid leader Marcial in charge, we headed down the road, now bumper-to-bumper with fiesta-goers looking for parking. Marcial had spied a trail heading up the side of a hill across the way but we didn't know how to get there from here. Never fear! Having noticed what looked like a path beyond a barbed-wire fence, Marcial stopped and asked a fellow who was helping park cars across the road how we might get in. An instant amigo, the guy sent over another man to cut the fence and open a gate for us! How's that for friendly? He gave Marcial his name so if anyone stopped us as we hiked along, we could say Juan gave us permission.

Just cut the fence -- No hay problema!

Seidy and I are across, Marcial helps the others

We traipsed down the narrow path alongside the fence and soon came to the inevitable river to cross. But this one was shallow and easy so I just walked through the 3-inch water in my trusty boots. Marcial helped the others to cross safely. The trail took us up through coffee fields, shade-grown under a canopy of banana trees and other tall nameless greenery. 

Marcial and Chris far ahead, Sue coming along

Seidy picks culantro

Along the way Seidy noticed some native culantro growing on the sides of the path and began picking the tender leaves, explaining to me how good it was in frijoles or gallo pinto, the ubiquitous beans-and-rice dish so popular here. Culantro is similar in smell at least to cilantro, which Layne and I love, but I've not found the flavor to be quite the same. Still, when Seidy pulled up a small plant for me, roots and all, I put it in my backpack and have now planted it out back alongside my other herbs. 

Looks like blueberries, tastes like plum!

Marcial peeled a "potato mango," one of the many varieties here, and cut off pieces for us - delicioso! - and Seidy introduced us to tasty little berries that looked like blueberries but tasted more like a peach or plum.

On our return trip, Seidy and I stopped to look more closely at some rusted old metal and concrete structures. She described how they had been used in the past to press the juices from sugar cane, using the giant waterwheel to power the press. Then in large metal pans seated in the huge concrete bowls now filled with plants, workers had heated the syrup (miel or honey, as Seidy called it) to render granulated sugar. It was a fascinating taste of Costa Rican history.

The big rusted waterwheel

A press for the cane

What used to be concrete bowls for heating sugar cane juice

 Returning to the festivities, we found the 4x4 mud rally already underway. Chris and Sue, Marcial and Seidy and Layne all stayed to watch while I walked back to the churchyard to check on Bonnie and Stephen who had opted not to hike. They were enjoying some of the comida tipica or typical food for sale and shared a couple of tasty Chicharrones, fried pork, with me before they taxied back home.

The ever-popular 4x4 mud races

When I rejoined the others at the rally, the races were in full mud-spattered swing, with some of the cars stalling out in the deep murky pools of water and having to be towed off the tracks. But the crowd was enjoying the day with barbeques and picnics throughout the grassy hillsides.

Eventually Layne and I left the rally heading for the dance being held in the salon near the church. There we joined in the salsa dancing and even managed a waltz, which garnered us a nice compliment from a Tica, before Marcial and the gang joined the party. 

By then it was time for the entertainment to begin with dancers from San Ramón performing historical Italian dances and a group of colorfully-clad Ticas doing a spectacular full-skirted rendition of Costa Rican traditional dances. Once again we all reveled in the great opportunity to join with our Tico neighbors in a celebration of their history and culture.  

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New House -- or Nueva Casa, in Español

At last, it’s official: we are moving! In fact, we took the first couple of loads up Tuesday. After the on-again/off-again housing drama earlier this year, I’ve hesitated to mention finding a house for fear of queering the deal. But we’ve paid our rent and now have my plants and a few suitcases already in the place. The rest of our “stuff” will follow next Monday; on Tuesday we’ll help Cidia, our housekeeper here, finish the last big cleaning jobs and then we’ll be in our new home.

View of the rancho from back patio

Located just up the hill in the Tico community of Santa Eulalia, a barrio of Atenas, the house is the “two bedroom, two bath with a great kitchen” that we had hoped for. At the end of a short street, it sits right next to a huge cornfield and sugarcane field with a lovely view of the hillside beyond. It’s private, safe and very near to several of our friends. It was one of those friends, our sausage-making amigo Marcial, who served as our agent in securing the place. 

Our friend Marcial on the sofa

"Our" cornfield and sugarcane field

Our new landlords seem very accommodating, relocating the washer and dryer (the dryer, a remarkable luxury here) out to the rancho so that the laundry room could be my office, putting up shelves for me and upgrading the Internet service for us as well. In that regard, we have some concerns because even with the upgrade, the Internet speed is not nearly what we are used to. Still, we hope it will be enough for those weekly Skype calls to my mom and Layne’s sister, even if not sufficient for streaming video.

Nice Kitchen!

The kitchen is all I could ask for (except perhaps a gas stove and a double-sink… spoiled Gringo that I am) -- with a big side-by-side refrigerator and even a working icemaker (again, quite a luxury), a modern electric stove and a big expanse of counter space. And although there is no swimming pool with the house, the small resort next door, El Cafetal Inn, is owned by a friend who said we could use their pool anytime. The bus line is only a block away and buses into Atenas run frequently. We learned from an older Tica neighbor, as we were waiting for a bus, that with our cedulas (residency cards) we could ride for free! Such a deal!

With our friend Marcy coming in early November for some dental work and a vacation, the move comes none too soon. Now we can anticipate being the “magnet” for friends that we had hoped to be. Although we don’t have the budget for many tourist activities, we can provide a home base, conveniently located for easy travel to many of those tourist attractions.

Cidia and her family

Cidia, our sweet Tica housekeeper who has really become a friend, had a sad look on her face last week to hear that we were moving. After cleaning this week she insisted on returning later that day as she said her 12-year-old daughter Melanie had a gift for us. We’ve gotten acquainted with Melanie over the months we’ve lived here because occasionally, when school was not in session or whatever, she would come to our apartment with Cidia and with Layne’s help in turning on the television, would watch TV or read while her mom worked. Also, I have given her a few of my jigsaw puzzles, which she and I both enjoy. So we’ve developed a friendly relationship with her.

Melanie's handiwork

As it turned out, Cidia and her husband and Melanie all had going-away presents for us: beaded earrings and necklace for me that Cidia had made, a lovely decorated wine bottle that Melanie had created in school and a colorful picture frame, purchased for Layne. They stayed and visited for over an hour, which definitely gave me some much-needed Spanish practice. Although I didn’t understand everything that was said, it was pretty amazing just how much we were able to communicate. We learned, for instance, that in 1948 during the armed uprising that resulted from a disputed presidential election, Cidia’s father and mother, pregnant with Cidia’s older brother at the time, had to flee the violence up into the mountains. It was after that last civil disturbance that Costa Rica abolished its army and turned its resources to public education, resulting in today’s high literacy rate. We talked about Cidia’s fourteen (!!) brothers and sisters and where they all live, Melanie’s school and dance classes, our new neighborhood in Santa Eulalia, a mutual friend’s new baby and precocious 5-year-old son and many other subjects as we sipped wine and laughed at my language struggles. It was very encouraging to me to actually carry on a conversation to that extent. Perhaps there is hope for my Spanish!