Jobs, Jobs, Jobs

When I returned from Nicaragua in May, I went job hunting in Manuel Antonio. I started with a stop at my old school El Paraiso to ask the manager to review my resume since the formats they use here are different. He gave me a thumbs up but told me I might be better off watching the cable television channel for job announcements. I called my brother-in-law (no, I’m not married, but if you live with someone, you are considered married, therefore I have in-laws and cousins and aunts, etc., etc. here) to see if he would be home later so that I could stop by for a few to watch the announcements. Sure, he said.

I made 12 copies of my resume, with picture, which, of course, you’d never do in the states, and headed up the road to Manuel Antonio. My goal was to hit up the big hotels, something Randall at El Paraiso had also suggested. Along the way, Jairo, my brother-in-law called to tell me there were two announcements of interest: one at La Selvita Canopy Tours for a receptionist who spoke English, and one at Gaia Hotel for the same. I made immediate stops there, as well as at a number of other locations, though definitely not all. At the end of the road, I stopped for some much needed refreshments in the form of pineapple juice and a bag of Lays barbeque potato chips which I hadn’t seen for some time. I intended to head home, but along the way I saw Backpackers Manuel Antonio, and I thought, what the hell, I’ll stop. Turns out they needed a receptionist who spoke English so I left my resume as well as a reference Randall had written for me.

The following week I made numerous calls to Backpackers as a follow-up, but I could never manage to catch the boss at work. When I secured a job in Silencio, I quit trying, thinking I had what I needed . . .

Job #1: Tree Planting
My sister-in-law Tere had told me that it was possible I could work in Silencio planting trees like my cousin Jazmin. I went to speak to Juan, the director of Coopesilencio, who told me it was possible and that I needed to talk to Arnulfo and told me where he lived. Five days later I was finally able to catch Arnulfo at home, who told me sure, I could start Monday and proceeded to describe where I needed to go. ¨Is there someone I could meet and go together with?¨ So Monday found me sitting in the park at 5:20 a.m. awaiting him. When he showed up, he told me to wait longer, he’d be back with the tractor. After I boarded the tractor with four or five other people, which was pulling a wagon loaded with tiny trees, no taller than four to five inches, we headed to the work site. We drove past my house, made a turn off and headed up, up, and further up. When we reached the top, I was amazed at the view. I could see the ocean. Wow, this was my ¨office¨? We unloaded the trees and sat down to wait some more, for what I had no clue. The tractor returned with more trees, which we then unloaded. We had breakfast on the mountaintop before we began to plant.

What I hadn’t realized was that we would be planting on hillsides, sometimes with a steep incline, that had fallen trees and burnt logs from where they had ¨cleared¨ the site for planting. I was exhausted within an hour, and it was impossible to carry water with me at all times, so I was often dying of thirst. At 11:00 I asked what time we quit for the day and I was told 11:30, but of course on this particular day it was 11:45 before Arnulfo declared us done for the day and I made the 10-minute trek back home completely and utterly exhausted. The ensuing conversation with Diego went something like this:

Me: Did you not know it would be this hard or did you lie to me when you told me it wouldn’t be this bad?
Diego: I told you it was hard.
Me: No, you told me it wouldn’t be that bad. This is awful. How am I supposed to do this six days a week?
Diego: It’s just your first day. You’ll get used to it.
Me: I’m the only woman there, and I have to do almost the exact same things the men do. (I wasn’t a big fan of equal rights at this particular moment.)
Diego: Really? There aren’t other women.
Me: No, and I know why. Because it’s too hard!

The second day turned out not to be a little easier, or maybe I just knew what to expect, and I thought yeah, I can do this. It wasn’t ideal, particularly when I only make 6900 colones per day, which comes out to about $14, but I could make a living on it here. Until I learned at the end of day two that there wouldn’t be any planting the next day because we had planted all of the cleared hillsides and they needed to clear more. Jorge, my neighbor, with whom I worked, would let me know when there was more to do.

And so I waited, and waited, and waited. And realized that I couldn’t make a living doing this if I could only work two days a week. So I spent one day that week working with my neighbor Tere in the palms, picking up the coyoles. If I had thought planting was bad, this was infinitely worse. With the lack of rain, the fruits weren’t prevalent, which meant we had to walk more than usual and spend longer than usual working. You have to fill five sacks (think big burlap bags) with coyoles (the size of grapes) to earn 8 hours of pay. We started at 5:45 and at 10:30 I thought I would collapse after we had only 6.5 sacks. With two motives in mind, I decided to leave. I was completely and utterly exhausted, my neck and my back were screaming, and the thought of squatting down to pick up even one more coyol was enough to make me want to cry. And I also felt guilty that because I was working with her, she was having to do a lot more walking than usual to do her job. It didn’t seem right. And it didn’t seem right when she paid me 3000 colones ($6) a few days later. But . . . I had received my first paycheck.

I continued waiting into the next week to plant, and the work started again on Wednesday. I became accustomed to the work, and I felt good that I was able to do it and that I was making money. Dollar signs in front of my eyes is what kept me motivated, even if I was still the only woman and still doing practically the same work as the men. Saturday came and we were working on the steepest hillside yet, and I didn’t think I could. I considered telling Arnulfo that I just couldn’t do it because I was scared I would fall, and because I was working so slowly that it hardly seemed fair to even accept pay. But I was determined to do it. I needed to know that I could do it. And so I stayed and finished. And then Saturday wasn’t so hard. Since we hadn’t been paid on Friday, we had the option of leaving at 10:00 on Saturday with 5 hours of pay so that we could get to the office before it closed. I knew that I could make it until the following week without the paycheck, and a fellow worker told me that if we stayed until 11:00 we would get 8 hours of pay. Work only 1 more hour but receive 3 additional hours of pay? The thought of another hour wasn’t pleasant, but the dollar signs made me stay. And then at 11:00 I found out it was 11:30, the same time as usual . . . and I had already drank all of my water! But I finished and again learned that the following week they would need to clear more hillsides, and that yet again, Jorge would let me know when there was more to do.

The last time they had spent 6 days clearing, so I was convinced I would have absolutely no work for at least a week, so I talked to my uncle about ¨coyoleando,¨ yep, picking up those fruits. He gave me my own number (41) and sacks but told me I needed to go with someone because otherwise I would get lost. Of that I was already certain. When I had left Tere early that one day and tried to make my way home, I had had no idea where I was and had simply walked until I reached a road I recognized. So I spoke with Diego’s brother Andres, and we decided to meet the next morning and go together.

Job #2: Coyoleando

Working together, we would need to fill 10 sacks in order to each earn 8 hours worth of pay. On a good day, you can be done by 10:30 or 11:00. We began at 5:45 and I quickly remembered how much I hated it. I was maybe a little more accustomed to the work, and I tried to work as fast as possible, but it was obvious that it was going to be a long morning. We finished our first section and stopped for breakfast before walking to the next section, which took us at 10-15 minutes. And so we started again, filling buckets and sacks, filling buckets and sacks. Finally at 12:45 we finished 10 sacks. Seven hours working for eight hours pay, all for a measly $14. But I received good news that afternoon when I received a message that I needed to call Jairo, something about a job. I tried all evening, but Jairo never answered.

At least I started day number 2 coyoleando with hope in my heart, but the work itself wasn’t much better. His younger brother Oscar went with us, so we finished an hour earlier, but then I had to pay him 2000 colones of my pay for helping us, so you could call the two days equal really. Other than that I started day 2 already tired from day 1.

Finally that afternoon I was able to reach Jairo, who told me to call Backpackers. I already had the number in my phone and gave them a quick call. The boss wasn’t in. And so it went for two days trying to get in touch with him. Two days that I didn’t spend working because I had no desire to work and because I knew that something good was happening. Finally on Friday I reached the boss Carlos on his cell phone, only to receive bad news. Because he couldn’t get in touch with me, he had found someone else. However, she was only testing out the job and if it didn’t work out, he would give me a call.

To say I was devastated is putting it mildly. By this point, I had learned that Silencio had no more money to buy trees for planting, so my only job would be coyoleando, a job I knew I couldn’t do six days a week. I had told Andres that I could do the job, but only because I had the hope of something better. I couldn’t imagine being my neighbor, who does that job six days a week, every week of the year, with no hope of ever doing anything different. Call me a selfish, spoiled American, but I felt like I’d die if I was in that position. (Yet, I can’t help recalling that Yahoo article last year that said Costa Ricans are the happiest people in the world! I guess they’re just of a different character.) I’ve never thought of myself as a weak person, but I guess in comparison to some of the women, like my neighbor, I am. She gets on her bike at 5 a.m. every morning and drops her 3-year-old son off at her mother’s house, heads to the palms to fill as many sacks as she can (she’s the fastest person here, sometimes filling as many as 12 sacks in a morning), picks up her son, and still passes my house at lunchtime with a smile on her face.

Fortunately, within 24 hours things had turned around. Saturday morning at 9:30 my uncle stopped at the house telling me I had a message to call the guy in Manuel Antonio. I hopped out of bed (yeah, I was so distraught I hadn’t gotten up) and practically ran to the albergue where I have a telephone signal. He wanted to know if I could come in. Of course, I said, what time? Four o’clock. I said I’d be there. I knew this was my job.

Job #3: Hotel Receptionist

That Saturday was just a test to see if a) I could do the job, and b) if I wanted the job. As if! If you can multi-task, you can work hotel reception, and having spent 10 years as a high school teacher, I felt pretty confident in my multi-tasking abilities. We started out with a chat in the office, Carlos and me, as he explained the salary and schedule to me (2p-10p Tuesday through Sunday) and said also that after I was comfortable in reception, he would like to have me spend some days working in the office to improve marketing, particularly with groups in the US. No problem, I said.

Albeniz showed me the ropes, and within 2 hours I was using the computer to enter information, helping to check in guests, etc. I had a feeling I was going to like the job. I remembered one thing I had forgotten to tell Carlos, so when he showed back up, I explained that I have to leave the country every 90 days to renew my visa. Ohhhh, he said. He told me not to come the next day, that he needed to think, that he would give me a call. At first I was worried, but later I realized that he would speak with Albeniz, who would tell him I had done a good job, and I knew the phone call was forthcoming.

So I waited, and waited, and waited. Finally on Friday I called him, and he told me he really needed someone who didn’t have to miss 3 days of work every 3 months. I told him I understood, asked him to keep my resume and phone number, and let me know if he changed his mind. And so I spent that Friday evening feeling much the same way, devastated. Lying in my bed that night, I thought, I gave him my resume two months ago when he needed help. He still needs help. Why can’t I work until he finds someone? Even if it’s only two weeks, it’s two weeks more pay than I would get otherwise. And I made up my mind to call him Saturday.

I called Saturday morning and said exactly what I had been thinking and without hesitation he asked if I could work alone. I told him I thought so. He asked if I could come in that day and Sunday to try out the job and then start Tuesday. I asked what time.

And thus began my job with Backpackers Manuel Antonio. In short, I love it. I had thought many years ago I could never work tourism because I would always be jealous of the travelers. But I’m not jealous in the slightest. I’m perfectly happy checking people in, helping them book tours, making reservations in other cities for them, and even making calls to find lodging for non-guests who show up when we’re booked. I’m completely suited to the job, and I’ve already been making improvements in the documents they’re using to make them simpler or to correct the English. And Carlos has already been giving me other responsibilities, such as making signs for the rooms.

As soon as we can find another girl who speaks both Spanish and English to work reception, my schedule will change. I’ll spend Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday working in the office, being his right hand as well as his eyes, and Friday, Saturday, and Sunday working reception. Both will suit me just fine.

I truly feel like a local now. I spend the mornings trying to take care of the house, the laundry, and errands, and the evenings working. It’s a lot of hours, and sometimes I don’t leave until well after 10 p.m., but I’m making money to support myself and in a way that doesn’t leave me with blisters on my hands from the ant bites or cuts on my arms from the thorns, and I don’t have to worry that I’ll fall, stab myself in the eye with a stick, and spend more money on the hospital visit than I even made in a week. And now we have the hope that soon we might be able to afford a new washer/dryer (since the dryer just died, and one has to buy the combo since it’s only one machine) and later a refrigerator.

August 4 is my one year anniversary in Costa Rica. I never dreamed that a year later I would still be here, living like a local. I had planned to be starting university this fall for a doctorate, but that idea has become something that was going to be, not that is going to be. It doesn’t disappoint me in the least. I’m completely happy with the decision I made to stay here. I still miss my family and friends as well as a few other things that just make life a lot easier to live, but Costa Rica is home now.