Eating here is as much a part of life, and social life, as it is in the States, though with significant differences. In the States, it is customary to call before showing up at someone’s house, particularly if you’re going to be there at meal time. Here—not so much. One never knows who will show up on the doorstep unannounced, sometimes at mealtime, sometimes before, and you simply prepare one more plate.
Another major difference is that in the States you don’t just walk off into the forest and return with food. It’s a weekly occurrence here. Two weeks ago we were just sitting around the house with the neighbor and Diego’s brother-in-law when they decided they wanted picadillo made with hearts of palm, so we grabbed machetes and started walking. We detoured off into the palms and then they began hacking away at one of the palm trees. Twenty or thirty minutes later they had reached the “heart” of the tree, which we left hidden by the side of the road as we went off to search for granadillas. (My dictionary tells me granadillas are pomegranates, but my guidebook tells me they’re passion fruit. Having seen neither of these, I’m not sure which is correct, but I’m inclined to believe the guidebook.) Diego climbed a tree to get to them and we returned with 10 or so after having eaten a few before departing. The neighbor took half and we used the rest to make juice.
Other days Diego, and sometimes friends or brothers, head off into the trees and return with fruits. A few weeks back he and his brothers went across the road, climbed a tree, and came back with 52 avocados. He and his brother-in-law disappeared a few days ago and returned with another huge bag of them since the 52 were gone. Yes, eaten. We had split the original 52 with his brothers, and our portion didn’t last long since Diego can eat as many as 5 avocados in a day. There are actually three types of avocadoes here: the traditional dark green avocadoes like we have in the States, a lighter green one that is similarly shaped but has a huge white seed instead of the dark one (these are the ones they picked in the trees), and a light green one that is shaped slightly different that we bought one day in the supermarket in Quepos. The local ones taste a little different, being a little more watery.
There are lots of other foods that we take from the land. We have plantain trees growing next to the house that have kept us almost in constant supply. I’ve learned to cook them 5 different ways. Sunday, Diego went outside and I saw him digging beside the house. He returned with yuca, which is a lot like a potato when boiled. This made for a very cheap lunch—rice, beans, plantains, yuca, and boiled eggs with a refresco made from oranges. I’d say we didn’t spend more than $1 for that meal, possibly less.
This is our diet. As I’ve said before, rice and beans are a staple and appear at every meal, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. With that we usually have a vegetable, sometimes two (cauliflower and broccoli are two of our favorites). Eggs are very common, particularly if we don’t feel like cooking or we don’t have much else. (If I make enough rice at lunch, I only have to make it once a day. And the beans we just reheat. ) We occasionally buy meat, but it’s a rarity given that we lack a fridge. We sometimes will ask a neighbor to keep something for us, but we eat well enough without it and I can’t say that my body misses it much. I try to keep fruit in the house—bananas, oranges, apples, and then we have the occasional watermelon, pineapple, mangoes, or strawberries. And then we’ve got papaya trees in the backyard that we eat when they’re ripe.
Ticos (Costa Ricans) have some traditional dishes, one of which is picadillo. It can be made in any number of ways. I’ve had it with unripened papayas and ground beef, only with unripened papayas, and then the one time with hearts of palm. The papayas or hearts of palm are cooked until soft and then cut into smaller pieces. The meat is cooked with consommé and onions and added to the papaya. And they use something called achiote, which is some kind of red paste. It has very little flavoring and is used mainly for coloring; for some reason, they don’t like to consume food that’s white, preferring to add achiote to pasta, potatoes, etc. The one day I cooked mashed potatoes, Diego told me the next time I should add achiote. “Potatoes are white,” I said. I don’t really understand why they see the need for this, and I can’t say that I want to eat red mashed potatoes. Maybe for Christmas.
Another traditional dish that is popular with his family his “atol de pina.” I’m not really sure how this translates into English. You start with a pineapple and remove the outer layer. You boil this in water until the water is yellow. Drain the water into a bowl through a strainer and then put back into the pot with the pineapple, which is cut into small pieces. You then add “Vitamaiz,” which looks like corn starch and is used as a thickener, but is sweet. Not sure what this is in the States. And you add sugar (a lot) to taste. This is boiled until it thickens and then eaten like a soup. Though Diego can eat five avocadoes in one day, he said if he had to choose, atol de pina is his favorite.
Now for the cost. I’ve estimated we spend about $40 a week on food (plus soap, dishwashing soap, and detergent). Every Thursday I walk to town because they have a market with fruits and vegetables, and I consistently spend 4500-5000 colones ($8.33-$9.25), usually buying two onions, a red pepper, 6-8 oranges, 6-10 bananas, apples, some avocadoes, cauliflower or broccoli (not both because we can’t eat it before it goes bad), potatoes if we need them, and occasionally strawberries or pineapple. Last week I also bought ayote, but we haven’t cooked it yet because I have to ask how. And then I lug this the ¾ a mile back to the house in my backpack. Every Saturday around noon, a truck comes by the house selling fruits and vegetables as well, and I usually buy oranges since they’re heavy and it makes more sense to buy them close to home. And then I buy broccoli when I’m not able to buy it in town. And other days, too, a truck comes by. Yesterday the truck came and we spent 5000 colones ($9.25) and bought exactly the following (and don’t ask me to compare this cost to the States because I have no idea): 20 oranges, 12 bananas, a small head of broccoli, a red pepper, and 6 potatoes.
Life continues mostly as before, though I did spend two days at work with Diego last week and once this week. On Tuesday he asked me if I wanted to come to work with him. Having wanted to go before in order to take pictures and see exactly what he does, I said I would. And then halfway there Wednesday morning at 5:30, I realized the camera was in the house! We walked about 20 minutes to work with breakfast in the backpack and machetes in hand. He works in the African palm trees and harvests the fruits that grow in them. This involves the use of a barilla, which I’ve described before as a long metal pole with a scythe on the end, and cutting down usually several branches as well as 1-4 bunches of fruits that grow in each tree. My job was to dispose of the branches he cut down. The large part that is closest to the tree has spines sticking out of it and is very hard, making it dangerous for both people and the horses and cattle that, so this part much be cut off and placed into a pile. And then I had to make sure that the area directly around the tree is clear of any branches so that it’s ready for the next harvest. (It takes about 8 days before the tree is ready again.) At times I was able to cut the branches with one hack of the machete; other times I needed a lot more. After five hours, with one break for breakfast and another quick break for coffee, I was in need of a shower and a bed. I was exhausted and it was all I could do to walk back home. He does this every day, six days a week, I thought. But with my help, he made more than double. He is paid by the number of fruits he cuts, not by the hours he works. He has a quota to meet every day, and the quote depends on the height of the trees. In the tallest sections of the palms he has to cut 85 to receive pay for 8 hours of work (even if this only takes 3 hours); in the smallest sections of the palms he has to cut 240 to receive the same pay. If he cuts more than the quota, then the quota for the second set is smaller. For example, Wednesday, he needed to cut 95 for 8 hours of work. He needed to cut another 75 for an additional 8 hours of work. We cut 170 that day.
Since I had left my camera, I decided I would go another day, but Thursday is market day, so I couldn’t go that day. And Friday I couldn’t drag my butt out of bed. So it was Saturday. And once again, I realized halfway there that the camera was still in the house. This day seemed much harder, maybe because I was still sore, or maybe because a branch fell on my arm and gave me 11 huge scratches. Or maybe because we had to walk more. Not sure, but again, I was dead on my feet, though we earned 16 hours of pay again. I couldn’t go today because I needed to wash clothes and go to the store. I told him I couldn’t work with him and do these things because I’d be too exhausted. He arrived home at 10:15 after having earned 16 hours of pay in less than 4 hours. (And then proceeded to go to the store for me because we knew that the weight of the items we needed would be easier for him to carry.) I’m sure the method of payment sounds pretty good—a few hours of work and being paid for a lot more. But then I ask you to consider if you’d want to do this work for $1.60 an hour. Yeah, didn’t think so. And consider that some parts of the palms aren’t as easy as others, and he may have to cut down five branches just to get to one fruit.
Last weekend we wanted to get away. I offered two locales with which I was familiar: Monteverde (to do a canopy tour) and La Fortuna (to go to the hot springs). He asked me which was less dangerous, and so it was to La Fortuna we went. We left Saturday around 11:00 in a rented car and headed first to Puntarenas where he has family. We stopped in at the house of his aunt and uncle where, of course, we ate. Remember, it doesn’t matter if you show up unannounced. Oh, and did I mention he also took a shower? Hey, it’s family. We stayed there for about an hour making conversation before heading out to La Fortuna, arriving at about 7:00. We quickly checked into a hotel, grabbed our swimsuits, and made the short drive to Baldi Hot Springs. Dinner first and then about 90 minutes of hanging out in the thermal waters was just what we needed. I was completely and utterly relaxed afterward, and my fingers and toes were prunes.
We intended to get up early to make the hike to Arenal Volcano, but were unable. When we did get up around 9 it was raining, so we grabbed breakfast. It had cleared a bit by then, so we went to the La Fortuna waterfall and had a quick dip in freezing waters. We made what we thought was going to be a quick trip to an Internet café, but it ended up being longer since it was pouring rain. The rain eventually subsided a bit, and we decided to drive up to the trailhead to see what the weather was like. We were told it was completely cloud-covered and we wouldn’t see a thing, so instead we diverted to a small town close by, ate lunch, played some hands of Uno in the car, and then when we saw the slightest bit of sun, headed back to the trailhead. What the hell, we thought. So we set out on a muddy trail, and I immediately regretted not having taken my Teva sandals. He refused to let me go in flip flops, so he gave me his shoes, and he went barefoot the whole way—incredibly typical. (In fact, when we had checked into the hotel the day before he had started to put on his shoes first, but I told him to go barefoot because then they’d known he was a true Tico and he’d probably get a better rate. We had already decided he would be the one to ask about the room because we knew the rate would be cheaper for him.) After an hour or so of hiking, mostly uphill, we arrived at the viewpoint and saw . . . clouds. And more clouds. And more clouds. We sat for a bit, listening, and we could hear the eruptions, but we saw nothing. Another day, I suppose. By the time we started back it was late, and the drive seemed to take a lot longer in the dark. We arrived back home close to 11:00 that night after about 6 hours of driving. But it was a trip well worth taking. And it was definitely nice to show a Tico more of his own country.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Life as a Tica
It’s hard to believe that more than a month has passed since I arrived back in Silencio to live. In that time, we’ve had a considerable number of diversions/activities. As soon as I arrived, Diego let me know that some of the guys wanted to rent a car for the weekend and go to Brujo, a small town located in the mountains inland. They would pay for the car and the gas as well as our food; they simply needed someone who could provide a credit card for the rental (me) and someone to chauffeur (Diego). As a result, one weekend we crammed eight people into a Montero that is really only equipped to hold five. And at times, when we were riding short distances, we had additional people hanging on to the side of the car for a grand total of 10 people. (There were photos as evidence of this, but Diego’s youngest brother inadvertently erased all of my photos on the camera before I had downloaded them. Yeah, he won’t be playing with my camera anymore!) It was a fun weekend, though I was sick the entire time with a cold I had come down with. I was getting only about three hours of sleep a night because I was coughing incessantly. I had gone to the pharmacy that Saturday morning before we left and received an injection, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.
When we arrived back in Silencio on Sunday night and didn’t have to return the car until Monday, Diego and his family decided they were taking me to the hospital. I had been coughing so hard I had thrown up at times and he simply refused to tolerate any more. In the hospital I received an IV with one medicine and then three treatments through an oxygen mask. And they sent me home with more pills. I wasn’t feeling any better, but we were all hungry and there happened to be a fair in Quepos. And once again, when you have a car, you take advantage of the fact that you have one. So Diego, his sister, her boyfriend, and I headed to the fair, which is much like any county fair in the state of Kentucky. Getting to eat cotton candy made me feel the tiniest bit better. It was still a few days more before I felt completely myself and before I could sleep through the night without coughing.
The next weekend we had an impromptu party at the house. We had simply been hanging out one Saturday night, playing pool in town when we were suddenly headed back to the house with several of the guys and bags of meat, yes, bags of meat. The guys set up a fire outside and Ronnie, who was once a cook in a restaurant, began to cook. And I quickly learned that here you don’t need lawn chairs—you simply move the sofa and chairs outside! The food was delicious and I consumed my fair share. It wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized what I ate—it was stuff that Romaldo had hunted in the mountains (an iguana, a bird, some kind of mammal that when described sounded like a big groundhog to me). It’s better I didn’t know what I was eating!
The next weekend we found ourselves doing the mountain trip again, the same number of guys, but with some changes. This time we headed in the same general direction but stopped in Llano, the town just prior to Brujo. We arrived and within minutes were headed to the house of someone they knew so that we could all shower and change. Then it was back to the dance. It couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes later when Diego decided we needed to head to Brujo to arrange our lodging for the night (in the same place as before). That was when we discovered no one had the keys. One of the boys had borrowed them and with the light of a cell phone we could see that they were lying on the backseat. One of the guys who felt responsible (not the one who locked the keys in but the one who gave the keys to the guy who DID lock the keys in) was ready to break one of the small windows and pay for the cost of repairing it, but I was convinced, as was Diego, that someone would be able to open it. To ensure we had a place to sleep for the night, Diego headed off on a motorcycle to Brujo with a friend, and it was my job to ensure that no one broke the window.
We waited for a bit and then some of they guys who lived there decided to try and open it with a piece of wire (um, yeah, I kind of had that idea but lacked the wire . . .) and set about trying to open it. I remarked to more than one person that guys always like challenges and I was convinced they would open the door. Of course, I didn’t expect the electricity to go out shortly after they started either. I had two flashlights—in the car! Luckily someone else who lived there had a flashlight, so the guys continued to work. On more than one occasion I stood between Ronnie and the window he wanted to break insisting that he couldn’t. Diego arrived about an hour later, remarking that they had had a wreck on the motorcycle (unhurt fortunately). Another 30 minutes later we were all on the verge of breaking the window when one of the guys was successful. Nevermind that when the electricity went out the dance was over, and hence the party. Welcome to Central America! Instead, we made what seemed like an intensely long trip on a road that can barely be considered a road to buy beer and then hung out at someone’s house for a while. The next day the guys played a pickup game of soccer before we watched an actual game and headed back to Silencio.
The following Monday I returned the car in Quepos in the morning and caught a few minutes on the Internet while I was there. I was surprised to see Kirsten show up, a friend from Germany who I met in Silencio back in November. And then I was surprised when she showed up in Silencio that night as well. She had managed to get a ride out in order to spend a few hours; it was her that was surprised when her ride left her stranded. She ended up staying with us that night, which was to her benefit since Silencio was having a bull-riding event that afternoon that she wanted to see.
On the road just outside Silencio is a corral, and some of the men had set it up with a loading gate and had rounded up all the bulls. Anyone who wanted to ride did. I was enjoying it immensely and taking lots of photos until a boy of 16 was dragged by the bull because his boot was caught in the rope. I was terrified. No less than 10 men jumped into the corral to try to free him and the boy’s father actually stood in front of the bull and was run over in an attempt to slow it down so that they could free him. He was eventually freed after about 20-30 seconds (that felt like minutes) and was remarkably unhurt. After that, though, the event continued as if nothing had happened, other than that Diego looked at me and said, “I’m not going to ride.” He had wanted to before that incident (though I don’t think he was actually going to anyway).
The following afternoon, Monday, when Diego was in Quepos, a girl came to the house and told me that I needed to call Diego, not an easy feat when he has the cell phone. I was less than enthused about making the walk at 3 in the afternoon (in 100 degree heat, did I mention that?) to town, but I did, only to find that the public telephones weren’t working. I borrowed a phone from my Tica mother and called.
Diego had run into Kirsten who wanted to rent a car for her last couple of nights in Costa Rica, but she couldn’t with her credit card. Enter me, of course. Transportation is always an issue, but I’m learning to navigate. I headed to Diego’s parents’ house to see if I could get a ride with his father on the motorcycle (Mom, you didn’t read that!). I had to wait for about 15 minutes before he arrived and when he did, he said, “Let’s go. The bus passes the bridge at 4:00.” It was 3:36 and I still had to go to the house because I didn’t have my passport, credit cards, etc. When we reached the center of town, we saw a friend of Diego’s who was headed back to Quepos in his car and I begged a ride. So little more than an hour after Diego sent word for me, I was in Quepos and we were renting the car for Kirsten.
Tuesday night she stayed with us and I hitched a ride to Quepos with her that morning because I had discovered that my income tax return had been rejected. Not a big deal if I had an infinite amount of money. Since I don’t, I needed to take care of this as soon as possible. Two phone calls to the IRS, four phone calls to my mother, and a refile hopefully fixed the problem and within two weeks I should be feeling a little more financially secure. Of late, we’ve been keeping track of our spending because it seems like the money is disappearing faster than it should. A few thousand colones here, a few thousand colones there. Most everything that we buy is inexpensive, but keeping food in the house is difficult. I buy a package of crackers and they last two days if we’re lucky. Diego said, but they’re inexpensive (yes, less than $1US), but not if you’re buying 4-5 packages a week.
I’ve been learning to cook, a little at a time. I’m now proficient at cooking plantains five different ways. I’ve learned to cook cauliflower with eggs two different ways. I learned to cook atol de pina, which is a sweet, thick liquid with pineapple—a dessert of sorts. I’m learning picadillo, which is made with green papayas. Diego’s mom taught me to make tortillas. I’m learning to cook rice without burning it, which has proven to be the most difficult for me. I bought a pressure cooker in order to cook beans. And with rice and beans I can make the traditional gallo pinto for breakfast. Of late, I’ve been getting up at 5:00 to make coffee and pack breakfast for Diego, and then I go back to bed. I figure it’s a sacrifice I can make since he has to work all morning in 100 degree heat (did I mention that already?).
This week his kids are staying with us. It’s the week of Easter, which is a big holiday here, resulting in no school for one week. Sunday we returned from the river where we spent time with his family and were simply hanging out, playing games on the computer when we heard voices outside. He said, “My kids.” It was a surprise for him that they showed up on Sunday (he expected them on Monday). It was a surprise for me that they showed up at all since I didn’t realize they were coming. Another one of those things he apparently told me that I didn’t hear or didn’t understand. Or maybe he thinks he told me but didn’t. At any rate, this week I’m not only a housewife but a surrogate mother as well. My life just keeps getting stranger.
When we arrived back in Silencio on Sunday night and didn’t have to return the car until Monday, Diego and his family decided they were taking me to the hospital. I had been coughing so hard I had thrown up at times and he simply refused to tolerate any more. In the hospital I received an IV with one medicine and then three treatments through an oxygen mask. And they sent me home with more pills. I wasn’t feeling any better, but we were all hungry and there happened to be a fair in Quepos. And once again, when you have a car, you take advantage of the fact that you have one. So Diego, his sister, her boyfriend, and I headed to the fair, which is much like any county fair in the state of Kentucky. Getting to eat cotton candy made me feel the tiniest bit better. It was still a few days more before I felt completely myself and before I could sleep through the night without coughing.
The next weekend we had an impromptu party at the house. We had simply been hanging out one Saturday night, playing pool in town when we were suddenly headed back to the house with several of the guys and bags of meat, yes, bags of meat. The guys set up a fire outside and Ronnie, who was once a cook in a restaurant, began to cook. And I quickly learned that here you don’t need lawn chairs—you simply move the sofa and chairs outside! The food was delicious and I consumed my fair share. It wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized what I ate—it was stuff that Romaldo had hunted in the mountains (an iguana, a bird, some kind of mammal that when described sounded like a big groundhog to me). It’s better I didn’t know what I was eating!
The next weekend we found ourselves doing the mountain trip again, the same number of guys, but with some changes. This time we headed in the same general direction but stopped in Llano, the town just prior to Brujo. We arrived and within minutes were headed to the house of someone they knew so that we could all shower and change. Then it was back to the dance. It couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes later when Diego decided we needed to head to Brujo to arrange our lodging for the night (in the same place as before). That was when we discovered no one had the keys. One of the boys had borrowed them and with the light of a cell phone we could see that they were lying on the backseat. One of the guys who felt responsible (not the one who locked the keys in but the one who gave the keys to the guy who DID lock the keys in) was ready to break one of the small windows and pay for the cost of repairing it, but I was convinced, as was Diego, that someone would be able to open it. To ensure we had a place to sleep for the night, Diego headed off on a motorcycle to Brujo with a friend, and it was my job to ensure that no one broke the window.
We waited for a bit and then some of they guys who lived there decided to try and open it with a piece of wire (um, yeah, I kind of had that idea but lacked the wire . . .) and set about trying to open it. I remarked to more than one person that guys always like challenges and I was convinced they would open the door. Of course, I didn’t expect the electricity to go out shortly after they started either. I had two flashlights—in the car! Luckily someone else who lived there had a flashlight, so the guys continued to work. On more than one occasion I stood between Ronnie and the window he wanted to break insisting that he couldn’t. Diego arrived about an hour later, remarking that they had had a wreck on the motorcycle (unhurt fortunately). Another 30 minutes later we were all on the verge of breaking the window when one of the guys was successful. Nevermind that when the electricity went out the dance was over, and hence the party. Welcome to Central America! Instead, we made what seemed like an intensely long trip on a road that can barely be considered a road to buy beer and then hung out at someone’s house for a while. The next day the guys played a pickup game of soccer before we watched an actual game and headed back to Silencio.
The following Monday I returned the car in Quepos in the morning and caught a few minutes on the Internet while I was there. I was surprised to see Kirsten show up, a friend from Germany who I met in Silencio back in November. And then I was surprised when she showed up in Silencio that night as well. She had managed to get a ride out in order to spend a few hours; it was her that was surprised when her ride left her stranded. She ended up staying with us that night, which was to her benefit since Silencio was having a bull-riding event that afternoon that she wanted to see.
On the road just outside Silencio is a corral, and some of the men had set it up with a loading gate and had rounded up all the bulls. Anyone who wanted to ride did. I was enjoying it immensely and taking lots of photos until a boy of 16 was dragged by the bull because his boot was caught in the rope. I was terrified. No less than 10 men jumped into the corral to try to free him and the boy’s father actually stood in front of the bull and was run over in an attempt to slow it down so that they could free him. He was eventually freed after about 20-30 seconds (that felt like minutes) and was remarkably unhurt. After that, though, the event continued as if nothing had happened, other than that Diego looked at me and said, “I’m not going to ride.” He had wanted to before that incident (though I don’t think he was actually going to anyway).
The following afternoon, Monday, when Diego was in Quepos, a girl came to the house and told me that I needed to call Diego, not an easy feat when he has the cell phone. I was less than enthused about making the walk at 3 in the afternoon (in 100 degree heat, did I mention that?) to town, but I did, only to find that the public telephones weren’t working. I borrowed a phone from my Tica mother and called.
Diego had run into Kirsten who wanted to rent a car for her last couple of nights in Costa Rica, but she couldn’t with her credit card. Enter me, of course. Transportation is always an issue, but I’m learning to navigate. I headed to Diego’s parents’ house to see if I could get a ride with his father on the motorcycle (Mom, you didn’t read that!). I had to wait for about 15 minutes before he arrived and when he did, he said, “Let’s go. The bus passes the bridge at 4:00.” It was 3:36 and I still had to go to the house because I didn’t have my passport, credit cards, etc. When we reached the center of town, we saw a friend of Diego’s who was headed back to Quepos in his car and I begged a ride. So little more than an hour after Diego sent word for me, I was in Quepos and we were renting the car for Kirsten.
Tuesday night she stayed with us and I hitched a ride to Quepos with her that morning because I had discovered that my income tax return had been rejected. Not a big deal if I had an infinite amount of money. Since I don’t, I needed to take care of this as soon as possible. Two phone calls to the IRS, four phone calls to my mother, and a refile hopefully fixed the problem and within two weeks I should be feeling a little more financially secure. Of late, we’ve been keeping track of our spending because it seems like the money is disappearing faster than it should. A few thousand colones here, a few thousand colones there. Most everything that we buy is inexpensive, but keeping food in the house is difficult. I buy a package of crackers and they last two days if we’re lucky. Diego said, but they’re inexpensive (yes, less than $1US), but not if you’re buying 4-5 packages a week.
I’ve been learning to cook, a little at a time. I’m now proficient at cooking plantains five different ways. I’ve learned to cook cauliflower with eggs two different ways. I learned to cook atol de pina, which is a sweet, thick liquid with pineapple—a dessert of sorts. I’m learning picadillo, which is made with green papayas. Diego’s mom taught me to make tortillas. I’m learning to cook rice without burning it, which has proven to be the most difficult for me. I bought a pressure cooker in order to cook beans. And with rice and beans I can make the traditional gallo pinto for breakfast. Of late, I’ve been getting up at 5:00 to make coffee and pack breakfast for Diego, and then I go back to bed. I figure it’s a sacrifice I can make since he has to work all morning in 100 degree heat (did I mention that already?).
This week his kids are staying with us. It’s the week of Easter, which is a big holiday here, resulting in no school for one week. Sunday we returned from the river where we spent time with his family and were simply hanging out, playing games on the computer when we heard voices outside. He said, “My kids.” It was a surprise for him that they showed up on Sunday (he expected them on Monday). It was a surprise for me that they showed up at all since I didn’t realize they were coming. Another one of those things he apparently told me that I didn’t hear or didn’t understand. Or maybe he thinks he told me but didn’t. At any rate, this week I’m not only a housewife but a surrogate mother as well. My life just keeps getting stranger.
Life as a Tica
It’s hard to believe that more than a month has passed since I arrived back in Silencio to live. In that time, we’ve had a considerable number of diversions/activities. As soon as I arrived, Diego let me know that some of the guys wanted to rent a car for the weekend and go to Brujo, a small town located in the mountains inland. They would pay for the car and the gas as well as our food; they simply needed someone who could provide a credit card for the rental (me) and someone to chauffeur (Diego). As a result, one weekend we crammed eight people into a Montero that is really only equipped to hold five. And at times, when we were riding short distances, we had additional people hanging on to the side of the car for a grand total of 10 people. (There were photos as evidence of this, but Diego’s youngest brother inadvertently erased all of my photos on the camera before I had downloaded them. Yeah, he won’t be playing with my camera anymore!) It was a fun weekend, though I was sick the entire time with a cold I had come down with. I was getting only about three hours of sleep a night because I was coughing incessantly. I had gone to the pharmacy that Saturday morning before we left and received an injection, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.
When we arrived back in Silencio on Sunday night and didn’t have to return the car until Monday, Diego and his family decided they were taking me to the hospital. I had been coughing so hard I had thrown up at times and he simply refused to tolerate any more. In the hospital I received an IV with one medicine and then three treatments through an oxygen mask. And they sent me home with more pills. I wasn’t feeling any better, but we were all hungry and there happened to be a fair in Quepos. And once again, when you have a car, you take advantage of the fact that you have one. So Diego, his sister, her boyfriend, and I headed to the fair, which is much like any county fair in the state of Kentucky. Getting to eat cotton candy made me feel the tiniest bit better. It was still a few days more before I felt completely myself and before I could sleep through the night without coughing.
The next weekend we had an impromptu party at the house. We had simply been hanging out one Saturday night, playing pool in town when we were suddenly headed back to the house with several of the guys and bags of meat, yes, bags of meat. The guys set up a fire outside and Ronnie, who was once a cook in a restaurant, began to cook. And I quickly learned that here you don’t need lawn chairs—you simply move the sofa and chairs outside! The food was delicious and I consumed my fair share. It wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized what I ate—it was stuff that Romaldo had hunted in the mountains (an iguana, a bird, some kind of mammal that when described sounded like a big groundhog to me). It’s better I didn’t know what I was eating!
The next weekend we found ourselves doing the mountain trip again, the same number of guys, but with some changes. This time we headed in the same general direction but stopped in Llano, the town just prior to Brujo. We arrived and within minutes were headed to the house of someone they knew so that we could all shower and change. Then it was back to the dance. It couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes later when Diego decided we needed to head to Brujo to arrange our lodging for the night (in the same place as before). That was when we discovered no one had the keys. One of the boys had borrowed them and with the light of a cell phone we could see that they were lying on the backseat. One of the guys who felt responsible (not the one who locked the keys in but the one who gave the keys to the guy who DID lock the keys in) was ready to break one of the small windows and pay for the cost of repairing it, but I was convinced, as was Diego, that someone would be able to open it. To ensure we had a place to sleep for the night, Diego headed off on a motorcycle to Brujo with a friend, and it was my job to ensure that no one broke the window.
We waited for a bit and then some of they guys who lived there decided to try and open it with a piece of wire (um, yeah, I kind of had that idea but lacked the wire . . .) and set about trying to open it. I remarked to more than one person that guys always like challenges and I was convinced they would open the door. Of course, I didn’t expect the electricity to go out shortly after they started either. I had two flashlights—in the car! Luckily someone else who lived there had a flashlight, so the guys continued to work. On more than one occasion I stood between Ronnie and the window he wanted to break insisting that he couldn’t. Diego arrived about an hour later, remarking that they had had a wreck on the motorcycle (unhurt fortunately). Another 30 minutes later we were all on the verge of breaking the window when one of the guys was successful. Nevermind that when the electricity went out the dance was over, and hence the party. Welcome to Central America! Instead, we made what seemed like an intensely long trip on a road that can barely be considered a road to buy beer and then hung out at someone’s house for a while. The next day the guys played a pickup game of soccer before we watched an actual game and headed back to Silencio.
The following Monday I returned the car in Quepos in the morning and caught a few minutes on the Internet while I was there. I was surprised to see Kirsten show up, a friend from Germany who I met in Silencio back in November. And then I was surprised when she showed up in Silencio that night as well. She had managed to get a ride out in order to spend a few hours; it was her that was surprised when her ride left her stranded. She ended up staying with us that night, which was to her benefit since Silencio was having a bull-riding event that afternoon that she wanted to see.
On the road just outside Silencio is a corral, and some of the men had set it up with a loading gate and had rounded up all the bulls. Anyone who wanted to ride did. I was enjoying it immensely and taking lots of photos until a boy of 16 was dragged by the bull because his boot was caught in the rope. I was terrified. No less than 10 men jumped into the corral to try to free him and the boy’s father actually stood in front of the bull and was run over in an attempt to slow it down so that they could free him. He was eventually freed after about 20-30 seconds (that felt like minutes) and was remarkably unhurt. After that, though, the event continued as if nothing had happened, other than that Diego looked at me and said, “I’m not going to ride.” He had wanted to before that incident (though I don’t think he was actually going to anyway).
The following afternoon, Monday, when Diego was in Quepos, a girl came to the house and told me that I needed to call Diego, not an easy feat when he has the cell phone. I was less than enthused about making the walk at 3 in the afternoon (in 100 degree heat, did I mention that?) to town, but I did, only to find that the public telephones weren’t working. I borrowed a phone from my Tica mother and called.
Diego had run into Kirsten who wanted to rent a car for her last couple of nights in Costa Rica, but she couldn’t with her credit card. Enter me, of course. Transportation is always an issue, but I’m learning to navigate. I headed to Diego’s parents’ house to see if I could get a ride with his father on the motorcycle (Mom, you didn’t read that!). I had to wait for about 15 minutes before he arrived and when he did, he said, “Let’s go. The bus passes the bridge at 4:00.” It was 3:36 and I still had to go to the house because I didn’t have my passport, credit cards, etc. When we reached the center of town, we saw a friend of Diego’s who was headed back to Quepos in his car and I begged a ride. So little more than an hour after Diego sent word for me, I was in Quepos and we were renting the car for Kirsten.
Tuesday night she stayed with us and I hitched a ride to Quepos with her that morning because I had discovered that my income tax return had been rejected. Not a big deal if I had an infinite amount of money. Since I don’t, I needed to take care of this as soon as possible. Two phone calls to the IRS, four phone calls to my mother, and a refile hopefully fixed the problem and within two weeks I should be feeling a little more financially secure. Of late, we’ve been keeping track of our spending because it seems like the money is disappearing faster than it should. A few thousand colones here, a few thousand colones there. Most everything that we buy is inexpensive, but keeping food in the house is difficult. I buy a package of crackers and they last two days if we’re lucky. Diego said, but they’re inexpensive (yes, less than $1US), but not if you’re buying 4-5 packages a week.
I’ve been learning to cook, a little at a time. I’m now proficient at cooking plantains five different ways. I’ve learned to cook cauliflower with eggs two different ways. I learned to cook atol de pina, which is a sweet, thick liquid with pineapple—a dessert of sorts. I’m learning picadillo, which is made with green papayas. Diego’s mom taught me to make tortillas. I’m learning to cook rice without burning it, which has proven to be the most difficult for me. I bought a pressure cooker in order to cook beans. And with rice and beans I can make the traditional gallo pinto for breakfast. Of late, I’ve been getting up at 5:00 to make coffee and pack breakfast for Diego, and then I go back to bed. I figure it’s a sacrifice I can make since he has to work all morning in 100 degree heat (did I mention that already?).
This week his kids are staying with us. It’s the week of Easter, which is a big holiday here, resulting in no school for one week. Sunday we returned from the river where we spent time with his family and were simply hanging out, playing games on the computer when we heard voices outside. He said, “My kids.” It was a surprise for him that they showed up on Sunday (he expected them on Monday). It was a surprise for me that they showed up at all since I didn’t realize they were coming. Another one of those things he apparently told me that I didn’t hear or didn’t understand. Or maybe he thinks he told me but didn’t. At any rate, this week I’m not only a housewife but a surrogate mother as well. My life just keeps getting stranger.
When we arrived back in Silencio on Sunday night and didn’t have to return the car until Monday, Diego and his family decided they were taking me to the hospital. I had been coughing so hard I had thrown up at times and he simply refused to tolerate any more. In the hospital I received an IV with one medicine and then three treatments through an oxygen mask. And they sent me home with more pills. I wasn’t feeling any better, but we were all hungry and there happened to be a fair in Quepos. And once again, when you have a car, you take advantage of the fact that you have one. So Diego, his sister, her boyfriend, and I headed to the fair, which is much like any county fair in the state of Kentucky. Getting to eat cotton candy made me feel the tiniest bit better. It was still a few days more before I felt completely myself and before I could sleep through the night without coughing.
The next weekend we had an impromptu party at the house. We had simply been hanging out one Saturday night, playing pool in town when we were suddenly headed back to the house with several of the guys and bags of meat, yes, bags of meat. The guys set up a fire outside and Ronnie, who was once a cook in a restaurant, began to cook. And I quickly learned that here you don’t need lawn chairs—you simply move the sofa and chairs outside! The food was delicious and I consumed my fair share. It wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized what I ate—it was stuff that Romaldo had hunted in the mountains (an iguana, a bird, some kind of mammal that when described sounded like a big groundhog to me). It’s better I didn’t know what I was eating!
The next weekend we found ourselves doing the mountain trip again, the same number of guys, but with some changes. This time we headed in the same general direction but stopped in Llano, the town just prior to Brujo. We arrived and within minutes were headed to the house of someone they knew so that we could all shower and change. Then it was back to the dance. It couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes later when Diego decided we needed to head to Brujo to arrange our lodging for the night (in the same place as before). That was when we discovered no one had the keys. One of the boys had borrowed them and with the light of a cell phone we could see that they were lying on the backseat. One of the guys who felt responsible (not the one who locked the keys in but the one who gave the keys to the guy who DID lock the keys in) was ready to break one of the small windows and pay for the cost of repairing it, but I was convinced, as was Diego, that someone would be able to open it. To ensure we had a place to sleep for the night, Diego headed off on a motorcycle to Brujo with a friend, and it was my job to ensure that no one broke the window.
We waited for a bit and then some of they guys who lived there decided to try and open it with a piece of wire (um, yeah, I kind of had that idea but lacked the wire . . .) and set about trying to open it. I remarked to more than one person that guys always like challenges and I was convinced they would open the door. Of course, I didn’t expect the electricity to go out shortly after they started either. I had two flashlights—in the car! Luckily someone else who lived there had a flashlight, so the guys continued to work. On more than one occasion I stood between Ronnie and the window he wanted to break insisting that he couldn’t. Diego arrived about an hour later, remarking that they had had a wreck on the motorcycle (unhurt fortunately). Another 30 minutes later we were all on the verge of breaking the window when one of the guys was successful. Nevermind that when the electricity went out the dance was over, and hence the party. Welcome to Central America! Instead, we made what seemed like an intensely long trip on a road that can barely be considered a road to buy beer and then hung out at someone’s house for a while. The next day the guys played a pickup game of soccer before we watched an actual game and headed back to Silencio.
The following Monday I returned the car in Quepos in the morning and caught a few minutes on the Internet while I was there. I was surprised to see Kirsten show up, a friend from Germany who I met in Silencio back in November. And then I was surprised when she showed up in Silencio that night as well. She had managed to get a ride out in order to spend a few hours; it was her that was surprised when her ride left her stranded. She ended up staying with us that night, which was to her benefit since Silencio was having a bull-riding event that afternoon that she wanted to see.
On the road just outside Silencio is a corral, and some of the men had set it up with a loading gate and had rounded up all the bulls. Anyone who wanted to ride did. I was enjoying it immensely and taking lots of photos until a boy of 16 was dragged by the bull because his boot was caught in the rope. I was terrified. No less than 10 men jumped into the corral to try to free him and the boy’s father actually stood in front of the bull and was run over in an attempt to slow it down so that they could free him. He was eventually freed after about 20-30 seconds (that felt like minutes) and was remarkably unhurt. After that, though, the event continued as if nothing had happened, other than that Diego looked at me and said, “I’m not going to ride.” He had wanted to before that incident (though I don’t think he was actually going to anyway).
The following afternoon, Monday, when Diego was in Quepos, a girl came to the house and told me that I needed to call Diego, not an easy feat when he has the cell phone. I was less than enthused about making the walk at 3 in the afternoon (in 100 degree heat, did I mention that?) to town, but I did, only to find that the public telephones weren’t working. I borrowed a phone from my Tica mother and called.
Diego had run into Kirsten who wanted to rent a car for her last couple of nights in Costa Rica, but she couldn’t with her credit card. Enter me, of course. Transportation is always an issue, but I’m learning to navigate. I headed to Diego’s parents’ house to see if I could get a ride with his father on the motorcycle (Mom, you didn’t read that!). I had to wait for about 15 minutes before he arrived and when he did, he said, “Let’s go. The bus passes the bridge at 4:00.” It was 3:36 and I still had to go to the house because I didn’t have my passport, credit cards, etc. When we reached the center of town, we saw a friend of Diego’s who was headed back to Quepos in his car and I begged a ride. So little more than an hour after Diego sent word for me, I was in Quepos and we were renting the car for Kirsten.
Tuesday night she stayed with us and I hitched a ride to Quepos with her that morning because I had discovered that my income tax return had been rejected. Not a big deal if I had an infinite amount of money. Since I don’t, I needed to take care of this as soon as possible. Two phone calls to the IRS, four phone calls to my mother, and a refile hopefully fixed the problem and within two weeks I should be feeling a little more financially secure. Of late, we’ve been keeping track of our spending because it seems like the money is disappearing faster than it should. A few thousand colones here, a few thousand colones there. Most everything that we buy is inexpensive, but keeping food in the house is difficult. I buy a package of crackers and they last two days if we’re lucky. Diego said, but they’re inexpensive (yes, less than $1US), but not if you’re buying 4-5 packages a week.
I’ve been learning to cook, a little at a time. I’m now proficient at cooking plantains five different ways. I’ve learned to cook cauliflower with eggs two different ways. I learned to cook atol de pina, which is a sweet, thick liquid with pineapple—a dessert of sorts. I’m learning picadillo, which is made with green papayas. Diego’s mom taught me to make tortillas. I’m learning to cook rice without burning it, which has proven to be the most difficult for me. I bought a pressure cooker in order to cook beans. And with rice and beans I can make the traditional gallo pinto for breakfast. Of late, I’ve been getting up at 5:00 to make coffee and pack breakfast for Diego, and then I go back to bed. I figure it’s a sacrifice I can make since he has to work all morning in 100 degree heat (did I mention that already?).
This week his kids are staying with us. It’s the week of Easter, which is a big holiday here, resulting in no school for one week. Sunday we returned from the river where we spent time with his family and were simply hanging out, playing games on the computer when we heard voices outside. He said, “My kids.” It was a surprise for him that they showed up on Sunday (he expected them on Monday). It was a surprise for me that they showed up at all since I didn’t realize they were coming. Another one of those things he apparently told me that I didn’t hear or didn’t understand. Or maybe he thinks he told me but didn’t. At any rate, this week I’m not only a housewife but a surrogate mother as well. My life just keeps getting stranger.
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