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.