The Tranquility of Silencio

I could write for days about my two weeks thus far in Silencio because I´ve fallen madly in love with it. Life here takes getting accustomed to. Lizards crawl across the ceiling while we watch TV, rice and beans are served at almost every meal, the work can be filthy and exhausting and then you can´t expect the clothes to come clean when you wash in cold water, and communication in another language is sometimes a struggle. But beneath all of that there is a tranquility to this place. A 20-minute walk through the palms at 5:30 in the morning with the sound of nothing but your footsteps and the birds. A quiet when I lay down at night that is so quiet that even the lowest volume on my mp3 player is too loud. A sense of satisfaction that the milk I just helped to draw is feeding a child next door. Eating a papaya or a guava directly from the tree while taking a break from work. Sitting alone in the middle of a waterfall. Life in Silencio is referred to as ¨tranquilo¨and it couldn´t be a more perfect word. It´s like taking life and putting it in slow motion. There is no rush for anything here.

The work here is difficult, though. I´ve worked harder in two weeks than ever in my life. I spent five days at the dairy farm and found out just how strong your hands and triceps have to be to milk a cow. If I had had to do one by myself, the poor thing would have stood there all day. By day 3 I knew to take Oreos to have with the milk and when I forgot them on Friday, I mixed in some sugar instead. Reminded me of when I was a kid at my grandmother´s; she wouldn´t let us drink coffee like at home, but she´d let us have milk with sugar. The 20-minute trek to the lecheria started at 5 each morning and by 5:35 we were well under way with 11 cows to milk. When we finished, we loaded the milk on the horse and walked it to town to deliver the milk to the store. They transfer the milk into their own containers and then the locals arrive with empty water bottles, soda bottles, pitchers, and purchase the milk. I like seeing little kids walking out of the store with a full pitcher of milk so heavy they can barely carry it the short distance home.

Last Wednesday I had the opportunity to play cowgirl for an afternoon. I thought we were going to ride for fun. I didn´t realize I was heading out on a cattle roundup. We rode through the palms looking for the cows, and every branch that Lango threw up out of the way came back to almost smack me in the face. He got a kick out of hearing me scream like a little girl. We found the cows and then herded them in the direction of the corral. When one fell behind or got too far out of line, I rode around and herded it back in the right direction. I absolutely loved it. One time he even got me to gallop and though I was scared, it was quite exhilirating. We headed over to the river where he roped another horse, the horse I rode back to the farm. Apparently it wasn´t a wild horse. They trade them out every now and then, and they always know where to find the horses and the cows.

This week I worked at the chicken farm for three days where I helped to build a house and dig a ditch. The day of the ditch I thought I would die. Three hours of digging and throwing heavy stones out of the ditch. I wonder sometimes if the locals are laughing at these girls (since all the volunteers are female) who show up to pay to do hard labor. The two days in the orchard this week were much easier. On Thursday I helped put compost around about 400 trees and then on Friday I helped to catch papayas as they knocked them from the trees. Then they put a machete in my hand to let me help trim the banana trees. Now I know why the people here were determined to be the happiest in the world--there is something immensely satisfying in whacking away at a banana tree (or anything for that matter) with a machete.

My afternoons are spent napping, studying, listening to music, or sitting in the waterfall. I usually take a daily run at 4:30, and again I wonder what the locals are thinking at this crazy girl who runs in intense heat and wears the same outfit every day to run (which I wash every day when I shower). After dinner I usually head to the albergue for drinks and conversation, the occasional karaoke or soccer match on the TV and of late I´ve been stopping to play pool at a local house where a friend often plays. Some nights I´m left feeling homesick because I just want to have a conversation where I don´t have to think so hard, but on the nights when I can actually communicate and when sometimes the words come without thinking or I understand without having to think so hard, I feel like I just might get there with this language. I really hope so. It´s one of the things I want most from this trip.

In many ways it feels like an idyllic life, but then I´m also not the one working long hours for little pay. One friend told me that wages in Silencio are approximately $40 US per week and though some things here are incredibly cheap, others aren´t. A small jar of peanut butter costs $6, so you can imagine how much of that I eat. Nonetheless, if you ask most of the locals if they like Silencio, they tell you they do and refer to the tranquility of the place, which I have to admit is a beautiful contrast to the busy-ness of Connecticut. I, too, have found a sense of peace here.

I mean, this is a place where you can buy an individual bandaid in the store and not the whole box. It´s the kind of place where after being here for only two weeks you can get drinks on credit if you didn´t bring enough money (that´s when I knew I was a local!). It´s the kind of place where you might be awakened at midnight to the sound of a guitar and people singing because your sister just turned 15.

The date I had planned to leave is rapidly approaching (October 7), and I´m asked on a daily basis how much more time I have. I always reply that I don´t know and throw out some potential days, but sometimes I want to say, ¨The rest of my life.¨