SYNOPSIS: Rescuing kitties and puppies and monkeys and mermaids and children and in the process each of us finds ourselves.
Thou rememb'rest
Since once I sat upon a promontory
And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back,
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
That the rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
To hear the sea-maid's music.
- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream (Oberon at II, i)
THE METEOR SHOWER
I am sitting on the roof of the house in Costa Rica, carefully and gently negotiating the roof tiles. Kassidy is in the crook of my arm and I hear her gasp quietly as she sees the first meteor fall from the sky.
I want to shake the package of her future to see what’s inside and to see how much of her is made of memories made at 2am while the earth spins past shattered fragments of heaven.
FINDING GOLD AT PLAYA PANAMA ELEMENTARY SCHOOL
This week a 3rd grader I had never met walked up to my waist without tilting her head to see who I was and wrapped her arms around me and stayed while I rubbed her back. This week I tried to be a quiet bystander on the outskirts of the elementary school here, but the desire to be who I am bubbled out of me like passion. I took the kids not directly involved with the arts and crafts Christmas project who were milling about aimlessly waiting for the bus and made them stand up and sit down about 75 consecutive times. Kassidy, familiar with this process, was writing the words I was teaching on the white board behind me. I am so remarkably, staggeringly out of my element teaching elementary age kids instead of high schoolers or adults, but it was still so much fun. The teachers were amenable to my returning and teaching English when the school year starts next February.
My Spanish teacher friends, I got gold. I asked the kids to talk about their school, their favorite classes, their friends, their families. They sat two at a time on a chair and spoke slowly and smiled. Then I asked them to show me their classroom. They were instinctively comprehensible. They walked around pointing and saying, “This is the chalkboard where the teacher writes. This is the other chalkboard where the teacher writes.” It was very cute and very perfect. My Christmas project is to figure out how to load them up so that they can be used.
PUPPIES AND KITTIES AND FLEAS, OH MY!
Kassidy volunteered at the CARE spay and neuter clinic on Saturday, while I made a terrible faux paux. She picked up a flea-ridden stray puppy and nuzzled it to her chest and pet it. I told her not to because the fleas were crawling all over it. The woman who runs the clinic regarded me with nothing short of disdain while telling me, basically, to get over it. They were all covered with fleas and she had been here all day already. No cure for it but a hot shower. There’s something in my daughter that I did not put there, and there is a tolerance in her that I lack. It’s really amazing to watch how generous and gentle she is with tick-ridden, fluid seeping animals. She captured two of the three kittens from the grounds that are cared for by the day guard and brought them in to be spayed and neutered. When we brought them home so drugged they appeared to be dead, she nursed them in a kennel overnight and returned them to the guard in the morning. Her eyes were puffy and red and swollen in spite of the Benadryl.
FINDING A MERMAID
So Saturday, as I was driving back
(Okay… seriously… it’s a REALLY good story but, and I’m not kidding… a congo aullador (howler monkey) just fell from an electric cable by the guard’s station. We have already returned the rental car so we’re going to walk down in the dark and see if there’s anything we can do. You just can’t make these things up.)
So Saturday, as I was driving back from Playa del Coco for the third time, feeling like a soccer mom whose kid’s sport is collecting stray cats, the traffic began to slow because there was a barely dressed woman crying on the side of the road. The truck in front of me stopped and the drivers got out. I pulled over and got out. She was not hurt, but she was sobbing and she was in a bikini. Deciphering Spanish through choking sobs is not a skill I’ve practiced and it was actually the drivers who interpreted what she said for me. What did not require much cross-cultural understanding is that you don’t put a naked woman in a truck with men. So, a minute later she was in my car. She and her boyfriend had had a fight and she was scared so she told him to let her out of the car. I told her I felt like I had found a mermaid on the side of the road. She spent the ride back to her hotel screaming into the phone at her boyfriend about being fed up with his drugs and hitting her in the face and saying mean things, but she later told me he never hit her, he just said mean things about how no one has ever loved her and he’s the only one who doesn’t abandon her. Their next conversation was her assuring him that the people at the hotel would not know what had happened and think badly of him. By the time I dropped her off at the Hilton by the airport in Liberia, I was sure she would have dinner with him and that she probably wouldn’t kick him out of her hotel room tonight. Mermaids have to want to swim away before they can really be free.
THE SHOCKING STORY OF THE CONGO AULLADOR (HOWLER MONKEY)
We are leaving for San Jose in 14 hours. We should be finishing packing and going to bed early. Instead Kassidy is hurrying with such drive her feet remind me of when she was little and we would spontaneously drop everything to seek whatever adventure her imagination was captured by that moment. We are walking to the guard station in the dark with a camera and a head lamp and a cell phone, to try to figure out what you do with an electrocuted monkey. The congo aullador fell from a branch and grabbed the live wire on his way down. Our friend Heather pulled up with her three small children and we all quietly marveled at him. He was moaning and trying to get up. He looked exactly as one might imagine a drunk monkey. Confused and disoriented and compelled to get in his car even though someone had taken his keys already. One of the three kittens that lives down there, too, was apparently curious and sat a meter away from him, staring calmly. The congo would get up and stagger and occasionally notice her, but no matter how close he came, the kitten wouldn’t move. He tried to climb the rake propped against the guard house, thinking it was a tree. The guard caught it on its way down. Hmm… that’s not a tree. Are you a tree? We called a neighbor who said she would call the monkey rescue place, but he was already responding to the deep howl that was calling him home. Since we had been there, we had been hearing the howler monkey in the tree. It’s the alpha who hollers so that everyone can stay together. Once they lost this one, they stopped and waiting and howled. He took several breaks on his way to the tree. He would stagger and then stumble and rest on his chin for a few seconds and then try again. He never appeared to be even peripherally aware of us watching. He climbed the tree and rested on the lowest branch. Hurt as he was, he would make his way back to that howl and the howler family would sit and wait and howl until he did.
It’s funny that this week tidied itself up so nicely in a little theme. In the process of rescuing, each of us had been led to our passion. Me in an environment with fleas and ticks and mange – nyuh uh. But Kassidy seems entirely comfortable there and also driven to capture and care for them. Her compassion leaks from her face and reaches from her hands. I didn’t even know how much teaching was a part of me until I was in front of kids who were telling me that they knew their numbers up to 60 and they knew how to say all of the animals in English. She’s an artist and a writer and singer and an actress. But she was also the kid who dissected a dead garter snake in our backyard a couple of years ago. So… maybe she’ll be an artist / veterinarian.
We are on our way back to Colorado for Christmas. Thank you for keeping up the howling all this time.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
CR 12.06.09
Only the present moment is real.
Every morning I wake up and look out the window first. If the ocean is still there, then I am still in this paradise and it is not a dream.
On the morning that I woke up and sat bolt upright in bed and looked out the small bedroom window in my mom’s guest room in Colorado, there was no ocean. There was no paradise. Sigh. Time to make lemonade.
It was still early, so I drove over to my sister’s house and knocked on the door at about 7:30am. My brother-in-law opened the door and my niece, Devyn, was at the end of the hallway staring. Her mouth hung open and then she ran toward me and gave me a squeezy hug.
Lemonade.
A few days later we all took Veteran’s Day off and went to the park. Devyn, Dylan, Kassidy and her cousin from the other side, Sarah. All we did was play. No cell phone. No computer. No other adults. We played on the swings and the slides and the monkey bars. 13 year-old Sarah was swinging next to me and said, “I feel like a little kid.”
Kassidy said, “I have an epiphany.” (Seriously.) She ran to the top of a hill in Bear Creek Park and rolled down it. Devyn followed her. Dylan watched. At 2… this was a new experience, and his little brain was absorbing. “Do you want to roll down the hill?” “Yes.” So Kassidy helped him. He rolled. Sideways. No up. No down. Just sideways, straight across the relatively flat hill, when viewed from that perspective. Kassidy began a hands on tutorial and Dylan was a willing student. Sarah decided to roll. And then I put down the camera and rolled. Soon after, the new game became covering each other with armloads of leaves. The weather was mild and autumny. We played volleyball and took pictures of each other. When we noticed Dylan tearing apart the contents of the diaper bag looking for animal crackers, we realized it must be time for lunch.
We spent the whole day making a memory for when we grow up. One day we will say, “Remember when we were little and rolled down the hill at the park and everyone’s pants fell down? Remember that day? That was a perfect day.”
We left to get lunch and then stopped at another park to eat it. That afternoon we went to a third park because we were having so much fun we could imagine nothing more perfect. If sliding and swinging and rolling down hills and chasing ducks (yeah… duck chasing…. It’s a Colorado past time invented by Kassidy when she was about Dylan’s age.) is your version of paradise then, after a short lunch break, all you want is more of the same.
After two weeks in Colorado teaching Fluency Fast Spanish classes and visiting my family and friends and a week in California at ACTFL with some of my favorite teacher people, a took a red-eye from LAX to Liberia. It wasn’t, though, until I saw the billboards on the highway leading to the airport as we were landing that I believed that this had not all been a dream.
The first morning I woke up and looked out the window and saw the familiar vista from my window I said, “yes!” and leaned back against my pillow, perfectly content.
Yesterday my dad, Shannon, Kassidy and I went to Borinquen. Kassidy went on the first zip line with a guide. They were clipped together and she didn’t have to do anything at all. She looked terrified, but she wanted to do it. (I love this kid!) Shannon and my dad went. I… went with a guide, too. Clipped in. Didn’t have to do anything. The guides call it going “en taxi.”
When I landed on the second platform Kassidy was beaming and saying, “I want to go by myself now.” And she did. At each platform she counted the remaining ones, “Only 8 more left.” By the last one she had watched the guides who were monkeying around and decided to go upside down like they did.
It took me three times “en taxi” to decide to go alone, and then I did the rest of them myself. The lines covered jungle, waterfalls, breathtaking views of the volcano and mountains.
I am not… the person I thought I was.
CR06-12-09.
Whatever we have done with our lives makes us what we are when we die. And everything, absolutely everything counts. – Sogyal Rinpoche
Ticht Naht Hahn is my morning replacement for my missing Sangha, and tells me today that I must look deeply into my desire and deeply at my intentions. The way I use money is important. It can be used to relieve suffering and feed the hungry. Am I motivated by compassionate ideals? Or am I motivated by greed or revenge?
The weight of that question falls between us and everything we do like armloads of books clumsily thunking the floor.
Whereas the poverty in Mexico reveals itself nakedly on street corners in the form of the limbless elderly and shoeless children selling gum, it is hidden in Costa Rica. It is possible to be here, to swim in the ocean, to walk on the beach, to shop like a tourist and never be awakened from the dream that this is paradise. The main roads are lined with houses and Pulperías (very small neighborhood convenience stores) and the occasional shack. These main roads have unpaved off-shoots. As most of the people who live down those side roads don’t have cars, sometimes they are just trails. The trails lead into the belly of Costa Rica. Here there are many shacks. Here there is very little rice.
And here is where Kassidy and I will naturally divide between what guides our individual souls. On Saturday we have been invited to join the Secret Santa committee we’ve been working with to deliver food to one of these communities. We accepted. And then last night we learned that, because of the holidays, the vet clinic has been changed to this Saturday. Last week Kassidy de-ticked a dog at a restaurant while we were waiting for our food. This is something she is good at. She feels compassion for them. She is bold enough that she will tackle random dogs to remove the suffering caused by the ticks. This is a girl whose lap was created to exactly accommodate a lap dog. They crawl into her arms and make themselves comfortable and she pets and snuggles and scratches them. Once they get there, there isn’t anything that will motivate them to leave.
There is a ghost on her lap now, and she wears those memories on the outside as they march wispily in front of her eyes. Our butt of a dog Kuzco, who we learned in the 6 months before we moved that we were immensely fonder of than we had realized, was hit by a car while participating in the traditional butt-like activities that had earned him the nickname to begin with.
She was torn, but ultimately, she is not the person she thought she was, either. These little dogs climb into the vacated space and absorb her sadness and hear the spaces between her recollections of Kuzco fetching badminton birdies in the back yard and her lap stretches and grows to make room for both a tick-covered dog and the ghost of a dancing butt-like dog.
My dad and Shannon were here last week and went to the rain forest and the National Park. The guide told stories that I am now repeating in my informal guided driving tours of the roads between the airport and home. Sugar cane planting here is staggered. Crops right next to each other will be in various stages of growth. It is ready to be harvested when it has gone to seed and the wind has replanted for the following year. Since each crop is ready at a different time, all of the farmers can help each other harvest one at a time. I said this with much authority, too. Because “look who knows so much.”
The underlying resentment and anger that has been palpable around us since we arrived ambled clunkily away while they were here. It is hard to hold one’s ground in the face of more than one person telling you you are dead wrong. Kassidy experienced daily jumps in the pool and my dad taught her to body surf. She listens to the waves from the balcony now and says, “Do you think they’re big today?”
Kassidy and I have enjoyed the only 3 days we will spend at home alone together between now and February. Really. We started going to the gym together every night. It’s been so much fun to have a work-out partner. We miss Dad and Shannon, though. They email to ask what the sunsets look like. They have not yet noticed that each of them left one pair of unmentionables in the dryer. We think we’ll put them in the guest room in case anyone needs “extras.”
Friday night I arrived at the airport to greet a very late plane. I stood with the shouting taxi drivers and felt the glee and giddiness that the taxi drivers could not have been feeling. Diana Noonan, her son Tony and Tony’s girlfriend Meghan were winding their way through customs. Kassidy and Tony dove for coins thrown in the pool and the winner was the one with the greatest value of piled change, not the greatest number of coins. Diana went to the fundraiser with me and met people from East high school in Denver. Tony and Meghan had dinner in Playa del Coco and I forgot to tell them that the tip was included in the charge, so they triple tipped. (We also did this our first night here.) They were serenaded by a small band and when Tony tipped them, he handed them all the change that remained in his pocket – 300 colones. The musician looked at the change in his hand and said, “Muy poquito.” As they re-told the story that evening and we told them that 300 colones was about 50 cents. Whoops.
Since the very beginning I have said that being here would be more fun if we had someone to share it with. Now we do. I was right.
Information on how to donate to the Secret Santa group was posted just before this note / blog. I’ll have more pictures after Saturday, too. I’m looking for classes / schools that would like to use this as a class project. The schools don’t have internet access, so we can’t do anything live, but I can do audio and video recording, post it and then have classes audio and video record themselves and then go back and play it back for them. Internet access in schools is still a few years away. Let me know if it sounds possible.
My apologies, also, for the anemic availability of blogs. I was in Colorado for two weeks, at ACTFL in San Diego for a week and then back here with my parents. While I was in California, I told my Aunt Judy that it was hard to get enough writing done. “Don’t forget that’s why you’re there,” she said.
I finished Carl and sent it to the publisher and when my dad was here, we talked through the story of José. I was stuck on a plot point that was paralyzing me. This story happened in 2005, and I’ve always been stuck about how to write it. I’m still editing, but the book is done. Actually, two books are done. One is about Isabela, the girl from the first book. The other one is from the perspective of her mother and contains a little bit of unexpected romance. We will use it for our adults classes. Adults can handle a steamy novel, right? I’ll be looking for proofreaders and anyone who wants to pilot the kids book shortly.
¡Pura vida!
Every morning I wake up and look out the window first. If the ocean is still there, then I am still in this paradise and it is not a dream.
On the morning that I woke up and sat bolt upright in bed and looked out the small bedroom window in my mom’s guest room in Colorado, there was no ocean. There was no paradise. Sigh. Time to make lemonade.
It was still early, so I drove over to my sister’s house and knocked on the door at about 7:30am. My brother-in-law opened the door and my niece, Devyn, was at the end of the hallway staring. Her mouth hung open and then she ran toward me and gave me a squeezy hug.
Lemonade.
A few days later we all took Veteran’s Day off and went to the park. Devyn, Dylan, Kassidy and her cousin from the other side, Sarah. All we did was play. No cell phone. No computer. No other adults. We played on the swings and the slides and the monkey bars. 13 year-old Sarah was swinging next to me and said, “I feel like a little kid.”
Kassidy said, “I have an epiphany.” (Seriously.) She ran to the top of a hill in Bear Creek Park and rolled down it. Devyn followed her. Dylan watched. At 2… this was a new experience, and his little brain was absorbing. “Do you want to roll down the hill?” “Yes.” So Kassidy helped him. He rolled. Sideways. No up. No down. Just sideways, straight across the relatively flat hill, when viewed from that perspective. Kassidy began a hands on tutorial and Dylan was a willing student. Sarah decided to roll. And then I put down the camera and rolled. Soon after, the new game became covering each other with armloads of leaves. The weather was mild and autumny. We played volleyball and took pictures of each other. When we noticed Dylan tearing apart the contents of the diaper bag looking for animal crackers, we realized it must be time for lunch.
We spent the whole day making a memory for when we grow up. One day we will say, “Remember when we were little and rolled down the hill at the park and everyone’s pants fell down? Remember that day? That was a perfect day.”
We left to get lunch and then stopped at another park to eat it. That afternoon we went to a third park because we were having so much fun we could imagine nothing more perfect. If sliding and swinging and rolling down hills and chasing ducks (yeah… duck chasing…. It’s a Colorado past time invented by Kassidy when she was about Dylan’s age.) is your version of paradise then, after a short lunch break, all you want is more of the same.
After two weeks in Colorado teaching Fluency Fast Spanish classes and visiting my family and friends and a week in California at ACTFL with some of my favorite teacher people, a took a red-eye from LAX to Liberia. It wasn’t, though, until I saw the billboards on the highway leading to the airport as we were landing that I believed that this had not all been a dream.
The first morning I woke up and looked out the window and saw the familiar vista from my window I said, “yes!” and leaned back against my pillow, perfectly content.
Yesterday my dad, Shannon, Kassidy and I went to Borinquen. Kassidy went on the first zip line with a guide. They were clipped together and she didn’t have to do anything at all. She looked terrified, but she wanted to do it. (I love this kid!) Shannon and my dad went. I… went with a guide, too. Clipped in. Didn’t have to do anything. The guides call it going “en taxi.”
When I landed on the second platform Kassidy was beaming and saying, “I want to go by myself now.” And she did. At each platform she counted the remaining ones, “Only 8 more left.” By the last one she had watched the guides who were monkeying around and decided to go upside down like they did.
It took me three times “en taxi” to decide to go alone, and then I did the rest of them myself. The lines covered jungle, waterfalls, breathtaking views of the volcano and mountains.
I am not… the person I thought I was.
CR06-12-09.
Whatever we have done with our lives makes us what we are when we die. And everything, absolutely everything counts. – Sogyal Rinpoche
Ticht Naht Hahn is my morning replacement for my missing Sangha, and tells me today that I must look deeply into my desire and deeply at my intentions. The way I use money is important. It can be used to relieve suffering and feed the hungry. Am I motivated by compassionate ideals? Or am I motivated by greed or revenge?
The weight of that question falls between us and everything we do like armloads of books clumsily thunking the floor.
Whereas the poverty in Mexico reveals itself nakedly on street corners in the form of the limbless elderly and shoeless children selling gum, it is hidden in Costa Rica. It is possible to be here, to swim in the ocean, to walk on the beach, to shop like a tourist and never be awakened from the dream that this is paradise. The main roads are lined with houses and Pulperías (very small neighborhood convenience stores) and the occasional shack. These main roads have unpaved off-shoots. As most of the people who live down those side roads don’t have cars, sometimes they are just trails. The trails lead into the belly of Costa Rica. Here there are many shacks. Here there is very little rice.
And here is where Kassidy and I will naturally divide between what guides our individual souls. On Saturday we have been invited to join the Secret Santa committee we’ve been working with to deliver food to one of these communities. We accepted. And then last night we learned that, because of the holidays, the vet clinic has been changed to this Saturday. Last week Kassidy de-ticked a dog at a restaurant while we were waiting for our food. This is something she is good at. She feels compassion for them. She is bold enough that she will tackle random dogs to remove the suffering caused by the ticks. This is a girl whose lap was created to exactly accommodate a lap dog. They crawl into her arms and make themselves comfortable and she pets and snuggles and scratches them. Once they get there, there isn’t anything that will motivate them to leave.
There is a ghost on her lap now, and she wears those memories on the outside as they march wispily in front of her eyes. Our butt of a dog Kuzco, who we learned in the 6 months before we moved that we were immensely fonder of than we had realized, was hit by a car while participating in the traditional butt-like activities that had earned him the nickname to begin with.
She was torn, but ultimately, she is not the person she thought she was, either. These little dogs climb into the vacated space and absorb her sadness and hear the spaces between her recollections of Kuzco fetching badminton birdies in the back yard and her lap stretches and grows to make room for both a tick-covered dog and the ghost of a dancing butt-like dog.
My dad and Shannon were here last week and went to the rain forest and the National Park. The guide told stories that I am now repeating in my informal guided driving tours of the roads between the airport and home. Sugar cane planting here is staggered. Crops right next to each other will be in various stages of growth. It is ready to be harvested when it has gone to seed and the wind has replanted for the following year. Since each crop is ready at a different time, all of the farmers can help each other harvest one at a time. I said this with much authority, too. Because “look who knows so much.”
The underlying resentment and anger that has been palpable around us since we arrived ambled clunkily away while they were here. It is hard to hold one’s ground in the face of more than one person telling you you are dead wrong. Kassidy experienced daily jumps in the pool and my dad taught her to body surf. She listens to the waves from the balcony now and says, “Do you think they’re big today?”
Kassidy and I have enjoyed the only 3 days we will spend at home alone together between now and February. Really. We started going to the gym together every night. It’s been so much fun to have a work-out partner. We miss Dad and Shannon, though. They email to ask what the sunsets look like. They have not yet noticed that each of them left one pair of unmentionables in the dryer. We think we’ll put them in the guest room in case anyone needs “extras.”
Friday night I arrived at the airport to greet a very late plane. I stood with the shouting taxi drivers and felt the glee and giddiness that the taxi drivers could not have been feeling. Diana Noonan, her son Tony and Tony’s girlfriend Meghan were winding their way through customs. Kassidy and Tony dove for coins thrown in the pool and the winner was the one with the greatest value of piled change, not the greatest number of coins. Diana went to the fundraiser with me and met people from East high school in Denver. Tony and Meghan had dinner in Playa del Coco and I forgot to tell them that the tip was included in the charge, so they triple tipped. (We also did this our first night here.) They were serenaded by a small band and when Tony tipped them, he handed them all the change that remained in his pocket – 300 colones. The musician looked at the change in his hand and said, “Muy poquito.” As they re-told the story that evening and we told them that 300 colones was about 50 cents. Whoops.
Since the very beginning I have said that being here would be more fun if we had someone to share it with. Now we do. I was right.
Information on how to donate to the Secret Santa group was posted just before this note / blog. I’ll have more pictures after Saturday, too. I’m looking for classes / schools that would like to use this as a class project. The schools don’t have internet access, so we can’t do anything live, but I can do audio and video recording, post it and then have classes audio and video record themselves and then go back and play it back for them. Internet access in schools is still a few years away. Let me know if it sounds possible.
My apologies, also, for the anemic availability of blogs. I was in Colorado for two weeks, at ACTFL in San Diego for a week and then back here with my parents. While I was in California, I told my Aunt Judy that it was hard to get enough writing done. “Don’t forget that’s why you’re there,” she said.
I finished Carl and sent it to the publisher and when my dad was here, we talked through the story of José. I was stuck on a plot point that was paralyzing me. This story happened in 2005, and I’ve always been stuck about how to write it. I’m still editing, but the book is done. Actually, two books are done. One is about Isabela, the girl from the first book. The other one is from the perspective of her mother and contains a little bit of unexpected romance. We will use it for our adults classes. Adults can handle a steamy novel, right? I’ll be looking for proofreaders and anyone who wants to pilot the kids book shortly.
¡Pura vida!
HOW TO DONATE TO KIDS IN COSTA RICA
Today I was driving home from the gym and passed hitchhikers. I shouldn’t have stopped. I knew I shouldn’t have stopped. But I did anyway. It was a Nicaraguan woman with two children coming across the border. She said her husband had died 22 days before in an accident and the “patron” had asked them to leave afterward. She had two older children in León, so they were travelling on foot and by hitchhiking. They had left Nicaragua 8 days ago. The little boy, Nicolás, asked me if I had any food. They hadn’t eaten, they said, in two days. I had almost an entire energy bar and the kids split it. On the way, I stopped to drop off the recycling, and while mom and daughter got out to help me unload it from the trunk, the little boy stayed in the car. I should have known better. When I got back in the car and realized that I had left him alone I surreptitiously checked to be sure my belongings were still on the front seat. My gym bag contained some credit cards, the camera, my Ipod and some cash. I dropped them off with a little bus money. They stole nothing. I felt guilty I even checked. I felt guilty that I even had an Ipod. I felt bad that I didn’t have more food in the car that day.
The depth of the poverty here is unbearable. When we asked the school to make a wish list, toilet paper was at the top. There is a community nearby where the poverty is so severe their cupboards are literally bare of even rice. A fellow volunteer said that she had been there once and couldn’t go back. There were people who can stomach seeing starvation and people who can’t, and she knows she’s in the group that can’t.
Below is the priority list from one of the four schools that the Secret Santa group here supports. Ultimately, though, once I visit this rice-less community on the 12th, I don’t think it will surprise me to learn that most of the donated money this year will go there. I’m already fantasizing about filling the car with food and driving there.
Here’s the information on how to donate to Secret Santa. The fundraiser is THIS Saturday. I’d love to get donations in time for that.
USD WIRE TRANSFERS INSTRUCTION
The customer must instruct his/ her bank to transfer funds as follows:
The Bank of New York
New York, New York, U.S.A.
ABA: 021000018
SWIFT: IRVTUS3N
For credit to account number:
803-338-3577
Scotiabank CR
San José, Costa Rica
SWIFT: NOSCCRSJ
For final credit to account number: #_$13000054505____________________
No Problema Property Management Secret Santa
San José, Costa Rica
In all cases No Problema must be notified of the transfer along with the dollar amount, transfer number and the date of the transfer to ensure that you are credited for the transfer. noproblemapm@yahoo.com Also please ensure your bank includes your name on the transfer.
This was the priority list from the school:
Material que se ocupa
Papel higénico (toilet paper)
Desinfectante
Palo de pisos (mop)
Escobas (broom)
Machas (mop head)
Machetes
Rastrillo (metal rake)
Palas (shovels)
Macanas (6 ft crow bar)
Arañas (rake)
Hojas blancas (blank white paper)
Utensilios de cocina (cooking utensils)
Basureros (trash cans)
Pilot (White board markers)
Material didáctico (colored paper, erasers, glue, scissors)
Libros de cuento (story books)
CDs de música infantil (music for the pre-schoolers)
Paños para secarse manos (hand towels)
A corto plazo
Abanicos (fans)
Aceras (cement / concrete apron)
Piletas (sink for mopping)
Lavamanos (sink for handwashing)
Cerrar espacio kinder (fence for the pre-school / Kinder play area)
Chapiadoras (Lawn mower / gas)
Escritorios (teacher’s desk)
Cerámicas (tile)
Armarios (closets or bookshelves with locks)
Grabadoras (CD Players)
Telefax – fax machine
Proyecciones a Futuro
Salón de Actos – covered roof
Aula de Informática – computer classroom
Aula para Profesor de I y II ciclo – classroom for one more teacher (would create the opportunity for all day school)
Aula para Biblioteca - library
Requirements to have a computer in a school:
Seguridad de las aulas (Secure classroom / bars on window)
Mobilario para los equipos (Computer desk)
Extintor (Fire extinguisher)
Un ventilador de pie por cada dos computadoras (One fan for every two Computers)
The depth of the poverty here is unbearable. When we asked the school to make a wish list, toilet paper was at the top. There is a community nearby where the poverty is so severe their cupboards are literally bare of even rice. A fellow volunteer said that she had been there once and couldn’t go back. There were people who can stomach seeing starvation and people who can’t, and she knows she’s in the group that can’t.
Below is the priority list from one of the four schools that the Secret Santa group here supports. Ultimately, though, once I visit this rice-less community on the 12th, I don’t think it will surprise me to learn that most of the donated money this year will go there. I’m already fantasizing about filling the car with food and driving there.
Here’s the information on how to donate to Secret Santa. The fundraiser is THIS Saturday. I’d love to get donations in time for that.
USD WIRE TRANSFERS INSTRUCTION
The customer must instruct his/ her bank to transfer funds as follows:
The Bank of New York
New York, New York, U.S.A.
ABA: 021000018
SWIFT: IRVTUS3N
For credit to account number:
803-338-3577
Scotiabank CR
San José, Costa Rica
SWIFT: NOSCCRSJ
For final credit to account number: #_$13000054505____________________
No Problema Property Management Secret Santa
San José, Costa Rica
In all cases No Problema must be notified of the transfer along with the dollar amount, transfer number and the date of the transfer to ensure that you are credited for the transfer. noproblemapm@yahoo.com Also please ensure your bank includes your name on the transfer.
This was the priority list from the school:
Material que se ocupa
Papel higénico (toilet paper)
Desinfectante
Palo de pisos (mop)
Escobas (broom)
Machas (mop head)
Machetes
Rastrillo (metal rake)
Palas (shovels)
Macanas (6 ft crow bar)
Arañas (rake)
Hojas blancas (blank white paper)
Utensilios de cocina (cooking utensils)
Basureros (trash cans)
Pilot (White board markers)
Material didáctico (colored paper, erasers, glue, scissors)
Libros de cuento (story books)
CDs de música infantil (music for the pre-schoolers)
Paños para secarse manos (hand towels)
A corto plazo
Abanicos (fans)
Aceras (cement / concrete apron)
Piletas (sink for mopping)
Lavamanos (sink for handwashing)
Cerrar espacio kinder (fence for the pre-school / Kinder play area)
Chapiadoras (Lawn mower / gas)
Escritorios (teacher’s desk)
Cerámicas (tile)
Armarios (closets or bookshelves with locks)
Grabadoras (CD Players)
Telefax – fax machine
Proyecciones a Futuro
Salón de Actos – covered roof
Aula de Informática – computer classroom
Aula para Profesor de I y II ciclo – classroom for one more teacher (would create the opportunity for all day school)
Aula para Biblioteca - library
Requirements to have a computer in a school:
Seguridad de las aulas (Secure classroom / bars on window)
Mobilario para los equipos (Computer desk)
Extintor (Fire extinguisher)
Un ventilador de pie por cada dos computadoras (One fan for every two Computers)
Saturday, October 31, 2009
October 31, 2009 5:56am ¡Pura Vida!
¡Pura Vida!
October 31, 2009 5:56am
SYNOPSIS: Pedro’s wedding last weekend; the Playa Panama elementary school tamale fundraiser; scuba diving certification progress; how Kassidy is doing; I get Pura Vida.
I hear monkeys.
One Congo Aullador, actually, who has decided to be my alarm clock. One of our first purchases when we arrived here was a wind up alarm clock. We set it on school days in case the electricity goes off in the middle of the night. This morning the digital alarm clock was blinking 12:55, but the Congo Aullador was singing to me.
I am sitting on the balcony outside my room. I do not want to come back to the states. Every morning I wake up and open my eyes and immediately look at the ocean. Even after two months I’m incredulous. So I check. To make sure it’s still there. I suppose that’s how someone in love feels, looking over in the morning to watch someone breathe and being incredulous that they’re that lucky. Tomorrow morning I will wake up and it will be dark. I will arrive at the airport as the sun comes up. So this morning, is my goodbye. I am feeling present and appreciative. I’m also feeling like my feet want to be in that water.
La Boda
Last weekend we went to Pedro’s wedding. We followed Mike and Carla up to Santa Cruz, a couple of hours away. Kassidy took some pictures from the window as we passed through a cattle drive. I just never stop thinking that’s funny.
We arrived at a bar in a little town… Nimbu?… Nubu?…Namby? We turned right at the painting of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs painted on a pre-school. You know where I’m talking about, right? We paid their buddy the bar owner 5000 colones to watch the cars overnight and then Scott Hansen, the builder of the house we’re living in, drove down the mountain to pick us up because our little rental car couldn’t make it up. It was a 40 minute drive up Pikes Peak… if Pikes Peak weren’t paved, and if they hadn’t yet cut that winding road wrapping around it. The rains had created ditches and gullies, rather than potholes.
We arrived for the 11:00 wedding with the lawyer / reverend who would marry the couple at 11:10, and so began our experiential education into the Tico time schedule. The wedding started around 1:30. It was a small group of family and a handful of neighbors. For most of the day we were the only people there who weren’t related by blood or marriage. In addition to the standard unsurprising ceremony, which was traditional and archaic in its language, there was a tradition in which the reverend asks for coins from the gathered family and friends. She put 13 coins in her hand and blessed them and then gave them to Pedro. Pedro then gave them to Teresa. It was a promise that Pedro would be a good provider and that Teresa would be a good steward of their household money. She was placed in charge of all things domestic. The wedding ended with a kiss and then a champagne toast. The reverend asked everyone to raise a glass to the couple and individually make a wish for them ---love, patience, humor, that they would always have food, for many children. Witnesses were randomly selected. They both signed their names. Afterward, there was no procession, as there had been no procession in. Immediately prior to the wedding the bride had been sitting on the groom’s lap drinking a beer. After some cajoling, Mike managed to get everyone into one family picture. The family dispersed to get food ready. (They had literally slaughtered a pig for the occasion.) Everyone else moved to a bench on the outskirts of the veranda and hung out. This activity persisted for the rest of the day. People moved from the bench to under the covered veranda when it started to rain. The food was set out on the table outside and people filled their plates and sat down. The bride went to take a nap. Someone drove the reverend / lawyer down the mountain and, while they were gone, thought it might be a good idea to stop by the grocery store and pick up a white cake. They cake was set on the counter. Someone cut it and passed pieces around. Dancing and hanging out at the wedding site continued until well after we went to bed and then it moved into the living room where it continued until the wee hours. When we were ready for bed, there were several available floor spaces for our air mattress. We were shown to the floor beside the bed of the bride and groom. I stared at him absolutely incredulous. No… thanks. We took one of the kid’s bedrooms.
I had a great conversation that night with one of the drunk cousins. He was commenting that Kassidy was a little too young to propose marriage to. He was 22. He had consumed almost an entire bottle of rum. I think he was inspired by the woman from Atlanta marrying his cousin Pedro and thought maybe he’d see what other American women were available at the wedding. We were, as I mentioned, the only people there not related to him. Kassidy was too young and apparently I was too old. Kassidy found him to be creepy. I found him to be amusing. You know… like the town fool. There are three mixed race marriages in this family. Two of them are between older American men and young Tica women in the family that originally owned all of the property in Playa Hermosa. I heard there were a couple more, too, but they don’t live here anymore and I haven’t met them.
The next morning the cooking for that many people was constant. They had spent a day earlier in the week making tamales and now they were being boiled. I had the opportunity to take pictures of the entire process of tamale making at the school yesterday. Banana leaf and then masa (cornmeal rolled into a ball), and then peppers and onions and some kind of salsa thingy and then meat and manteca (that means lard – just a little piece of lard, because lard makes everything taste better) and then roll it up in the banana leaf and wrap twine around it and boil it. There was absolutely no schedule. People woke up, ate something, and then sat and watched TV. Jurassic Park and then Water World and then Pirates of the Caribbean. I wanted to go for a hike and, eventually, a couple of the boys said they would go with us. So Kassidy tucked the puppy under her arm and off we went. As we walked from the house to the trailhead, we picked up about 5 of the guys. The women all hung back and waved. I should have known better. Marcos brought a machete. This was not hiking. It was trailbreaking.
When we got back I made CDs of wedding pictures for Teresa before she went back to Atlanta and a second copy for one of the aunts who had a computer. Sometime that morning Teresa had been cleaning up and found her bouquet. She walked into the house, called for Ceci and threw it over her head directly at her. Ceci caught it. Woo hoo! Except Ceci is married to Marcos. This Tico ceremony would have driven a wedding planner up a wall. I thought it was cool. One of the advantages of being this laid back is that the anxiety about being late disappears. There’s no such thing as late. Things just happen whenever they happen.
Although we were still on no kind of a schedule, I didn’t want to drive back in the dark, so we finally got a ride back down the mountain about 3:30 and got back to Playa Hermosa just as it was getting dark.
Ohhh… just while I’m sitting here writing I can hear the waves crashing on the shore. Sigh.
La Escuela / Secret Santa
There is a fundraiser coming up in December put on by the 4 communities, Playa Hermosa, Playa del Coco, Playa Panama and Sardinal. The money that is raised from the event and auction goes to support the schools in these towns. I have been going down to the school in Playa Panama this week with John. I translate for the teachers while they tell him what they need. They are building a new bathroom right now, but don’t have the money to pay for the US $200 in labor, so they made tamales for 2 days and sold them for 500 colones (a little less than a dollar) apiece. I took pictures of the process. They have a travelling English teacher who comes in Mondays and Tuesdays. They have been told that they might be able to get a second teacher next year which would mean that instead of teaching 1st through 3rd grade in one room in the mornings and 4th through 6th grade in the same room in the afternoons, that they would be able to offer full day school. To do that, they need one more classroom. If they build that classroom with specific specifications (fans, bars on the windows etc.) the government will give them a couple of computers. This same type of fundraising built the first bathroom and the Kindergarten / pres-school classroom. This school serves 15 K and Pre-K kids and 54 1st through 6th graders. School is free, but students have to purchase their textbooks and buy uniforms and school supplies. The teachers also let the parents know when they have run out of toilet paper.
I’ll post pictures, but what I’d like to do when I’m home is see if we can tackle any of these projects. They have bathrooms now, but no sinks where they can wash their hands. (I know… eww.) They have textbooks, but no reading books. They have a pathetic play area for the littler kids, but it isn’t fenced in. I took pictures of the swing set. It is not something any of us would let our kids play on without an up to date tetanus shot.
There is a kitchen where the kids are fed lunch. A small amount of money is provided by the government for this school lunch program.
These conditions are livable, but I’m motivated to make them educational rather than just livable. John tells me that this is not the worst school. When I get back he will take me to others that this fundraiser supports. They have been in shacks with absolutely no food at all.
The underbelly of Costa Rica exposes that the myth that this is not an impoverished country is just that. It is beautiful. It is amazing. I am so very enchanted by this place. It’s just simply not true that everyone is literate. I think they only surveyed all of the people who could read. It’s also not true that everyone is fed.
SCUBA diving certification
I cannot breathe under water. I panicked. I couldn’t clear my mask. I couldn’t equalize. I felt like I was on an airplane my ears were so pressurized. Multiple attempts to clear my mask failed. I could not relax. I was with my friend Heather who had far less trouble than I did and can’t wait to go again. She was graceful. I was graceless. What else is new?
Did I mention that I panicked in 8 feet of water in a swimming pool?
I am practicing clearing my mask in the pool before I go back and am also buying a mask with a release valve in Colorado. I need every possible advantage.
Kassidy
I volunteered to read The Phantom Tollbooth to Kassidy’s class and while I was there stopped in to see the principal. How are things going? So, I told her the truth and also told her that we weren’t sure we were going to stay at Ciudad Blanca next year. She was aware of the problems, but didn’t know how bad they were. After some discussion, they have decided to move her to 8th grade next year. The school year begins in the middle of February.
I like her. We have had some difficult times together, but now when I pick her up at the bottom of the hill we take a minute to be excited that it’s the end of the day and we get to be together again. It’s a moment we hadn’t been appreciating. One day I was late and it was horrible for her. We both realized how much she looks forward to seeing me parked next to the bus and decided to relish that. She’s very excited to come home. When we come back she’ll be travelling with my parents by herself. We’re totally excited about that, too.
Pura Vida
I understand Pura Vida now. It was an abstract, silly concept when I got here. Now it’s a pace. It’s a feeling of going along with the waves and not fighting the tide. It’s a feeling of using the time for meditation and insight and presence. It’s what we would be… on vacation. It’s not just doing things slowly, it’s doing things more spontaneously. I lose track of whatever schedule I had intended to follow when something comes up.
It’s taking advantage of the moments in the day when the sun comes out to be outside. It’s taking advantage of passing someone on the street and stopping to chat. It’s dropping everything to watch the sun set. It’s spending an afternoon basking alternately in desire, pleasure and satisfaction. It’s beating the rain to the pool and floating happily but it’s also standing in the rain and feeling it instantly cool the surrounding air. It’s taking time to take pictures.
It’s having nowhere else to be but exactly where I am in this moment.
And it’s experiencing and appreciating the sensation of joy at being present in this very moment.
October 31, 2009 5:56am
SYNOPSIS: Pedro’s wedding last weekend; the Playa Panama elementary school tamale fundraiser; scuba diving certification progress; how Kassidy is doing; I get Pura Vida.
I hear monkeys.
One Congo Aullador, actually, who has decided to be my alarm clock. One of our first purchases when we arrived here was a wind up alarm clock. We set it on school days in case the electricity goes off in the middle of the night. This morning the digital alarm clock was blinking 12:55, but the Congo Aullador was singing to me.
I am sitting on the balcony outside my room. I do not want to come back to the states. Every morning I wake up and open my eyes and immediately look at the ocean. Even after two months I’m incredulous. So I check. To make sure it’s still there. I suppose that’s how someone in love feels, looking over in the morning to watch someone breathe and being incredulous that they’re that lucky. Tomorrow morning I will wake up and it will be dark. I will arrive at the airport as the sun comes up. So this morning, is my goodbye. I am feeling present and appreciative. I’m also feeling like my feet want to be in that water.
La Boda
Last weekend we went to Pedro’s wedding. We followed Mike and Carla up to Santa Cruz, a couple of hours away. Kassidy took some pictures from the window as we passed through a cattle drive. I just never stop thinking that’s funny.
We arrived at a bar in a little town… Nimbu?… Nubu?…Namby? We turned right at the painting of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs painted on a pre-school. You know where I’m talking about, right? We paid their buddy the bar owner 5000 colones to watch the cars overnight and then Scott Hansen, the builder of the house we’re living in, drove down the mountain to pick us up because our little rental car couldn’t make it up. It was a 40 minute drive up Pikes Peak… if Pikes Peak weren’t paved, and if they hadn’t yet cut that winding road wrapping around it. The rains had created ditches and gullies, rather than potholes.
We arrived for the 11:00 wedding with the lawyer / reverend who would marry the couple at 11:10, and so began our experiential education into the Tico time schedule. The wedding started around 1:30. It was a small group of family and a handful of neighbors. For most of the day we were the only people there who weren’t related by blood or marriage. In addition to the standard unsurprising ceremony, which was traditional and archaic in its language, there was a tradition in which the reverend asks for coins from the gathered family and friends. She put 13 coins in her hand and blessed them and then gave them to Pedro. Pedro then gave them to Teresa. It was a promise that Pedro would be a good provider and that Teresa would be a good steward of their household money. She was placed in charge of all things domestic. The wedding ended with a kiss and then a champagne toast. The reverend asked everyone to raise a glass to the couple and individually make a wish for them ---love, patience, humor, that they would always have food, for many children. Witnesses were randomly selected. They both signed their names. Afterward, there was no procession, as there had been no procession in. Immediately prior to the wedding the bride had been sitting on the groom’s lap drinking a beer. After some cajoling, Mike managed to get everyone into one family picture. The family dispersed to get food ready. (They had literally slaughtered a pig for the occasion.) Everyone else moved to a bench on the outskirts of the veranda and hung out. This activity persisted for the rest of the day. People moved from the bench to under the covered veranda when it started to rain. The food was set out on the table outside and people filled their plates and sat down. The bride went to take a nap. Someone drove the reverend / lawyer down the mountain and, while they were gone, thought it might be a good idea to stop by the grocery store and pick up a white cake. They cake was set on the counter. Someone cut it and passed pieces around. Dancing and hanging out at the wedding site continued until well after we went to bed and then it moved into the living room where it continued until the wee hours. When we were ready for bed, there were several available floor spaces for our air mattress. We were shown to the floor beside the bed of the bride and groom. I stared at him absolutely incredulous. No… thanks. We took one of the kid’s bedrooms.
I had a great conversation that night with one of the drunk cousins. He was commenting that Kassidy was a little too young to propose marriage to. He was 22. He had consumed almost an entire bottle of rum. I think he was inspired by the woman from Atlanta marrying his cousin Pedro and thought maybe he’d see what other American women were available at the wedding. We were, as I mentioned, the only people there not related to him. Kassidy was too young and apparently I was too old. Kassidy found him to be creepy. I found him to be amusing. You know… like the town fool. There are three mixed race marriages in this family. Two of them are between older American men and young Tica women in the family that originally owned all of the property in Playa Hermosa. I heard there were a couple more, too, but they don’t live here anymore and I haven’t met them.
The next morning the cooking for that many people was constant. They had spent a day earlier in the week making tamales and now they were being boiled. I had the opportunity to take pictures of the entire process of tamale making at the school yesterday. Banana leaf and then masa (cornmeal rolled into a ball), and then peppers and onions and some kind of salsa thingy and then meat and manteca (that means lard – just a little piece of lard, because lard makes everything taste better) and then roll it up in the banana leaf and wrap twine around it and boil it. There was absolutely no schedule. People woke up, ate something, and then sat and watched TV. Jurassic Park and then Water World and then Pirates of the Caribbean. I wanted to go for a hike and, eventually, a couple of the boys said they would go with us. So Kassidy tucked the puppy under her arm and off we went. As we walked from the house to the trailhead, we picked up about 5 of the guys. The women all hung back and waved. I should have known better. Marcos brought a machete. This was not hiking. It was trailbreaking.
When we got back I made CDs of wedding pictures for Teresa before she went back to Atlanta and a second copy for one of the aunts who had a computer. Sometime that morning Teresa had been cleaning up and found her bouquet. She walked into the house, called for Ceci and threw it over her head directly at her. Ceci caught it. Woo hoo! Except Ceci is married to Marcos. This Tico ceremony would have driven a wedding planner up a wall. I thought it was cool. One of the advantages of being this laid back is that the anxiety about being late disappears. There’s no such thing as late. Things just happen whenever they happen.
Although we were still on no kind of a schedule, I didn’t want to drive back in the dark, so we finally got a ride back down the mountain about 3:30 and got back to Playa Hermosa just as it was getting dark.
Ohhh… just while I’m sitting here writing I can hear the waves crashing on the shore. Sigh.
La Escuela / Secret Santa
There is a fundraiser coming up in December put on by the 4 communities, Playa Hermosa, Playa del Coco, Playa Panama and Sardinal. The money that is raised from the event and auction goes to support the schools in these towns. I have been going down to the school in Playa Panama this week with John. I translate for the teachers while they tell him what they need. They are building a new bathroom right now, but don’t have the money to pay for the US $200 in labor, so they made tamales for 2 days and sold them for 500 colones (a little less than a dollar) apiece. I took pictures of the process. They have a travelling English teacher who comes in Mondays and Tuesdays. They have been told that they might be able to get a second teacher next year which would mean that instead of teaching 1st through 3rd grade in one room in the mornings and 4th through 6th grade in the same room in the afternoons, that they would be able to offer full day school. To do that, they need one more classroom. If they build that classroom with specific specifications (fans, bars on the windows etc.) the government will give them a couple of computers. This same type of fundraising built the first bathroom and the Kindergarten / pres-school classroom. This school serves 15 K and Pre-K kids and 54 1st through 6th graders. School is free, but students have to purchase their textbooks and buy uniforms and school supplies. The teachers also let the parents know when they have run out of toilet paper.
I’ll post pictures, but what I’d like to do when I’m home is see if we can tackle any of these projects. They have bathrooms now, but no sinks where they can wash their hands. (I know… eww.) They have textbooks, but no reading books. They have a pathetic play area for the littler kids, but it isn’t fenced in. I took pictures of the swing set. It is not something any of us would let our kids play on without an up to date tetanus shot.
There is a kitchen where the kids are fed lunch. A small amount of money is provided by the government for this school lunch program.
These conditions are livable, but I’m motivated to make them educational rather than just livable. John tells me that this is not the worst school. When I get back he will take me to others that this fundraiser supports. They have been in shacks with absolutely no food at all.
The underbelly of Costa Rica exposes that the myth that this is not an impoverished country is just that. It is beautiful. It is amazing. I am so very enchanted by this place. It’s just simply not true that everyone is literate. I think they only surveyed all of the people who could read. It’s also not true that everyone is fed.
SCUBA diving certification
I cannot breathe under water. I panicked. I couldn’t clear my mask. I couldn’t equalize. I felt like I was on an airplane my ears were so pressurized. Multiple attempts to clear my mask failed. I could not relax. I was with my friend Heather who had far less trouble than I did and can’t wait to go again. She was graceful. I was graceless. What else is new?
Did I mention that I panicked in 8 feet of water in a swimming pool?
I am practicing clearing my mask in the pool before I go back and am also buying a mask with a release valve in Colorado. I need every possible advantage.
Kassidy
I volunteered to read The Phantom Tollbooth to Kassidy’s class and while I was there stopped in to see the principal. How are things going? So, I told her the truth and also told her that we weren’t sure we were going to stay at Ciudad Blanca next year. She was aware of the problems, but didn’t know how bad they were. After some discussion, they have decided to move her to 8th grade next year. The school year begins in the middle of February.
I like her. We have had some difficult times together, but now when I pick her up at the bottom of the hill we take a minute to be excited that it’s the end of the day and we get to be together again. It’s a moment we hadn’t been appreciating. One day I was late and it was horrible for her. We both realized how much she looks forward to seeing me parked next to the bus and decided to relish that. She’s very excited to come home. When we come back she’ll be travelling with my parents by herself. We’re totally excited about that, too.
Pura Vida
I understand Pura Vida now. It was an abstract, silly concept when I got here. Now it’s a pace. It’s a feeling of going along with the waves and not fighting the tide. It’s a feeling of using the time for meditation and insight and presence. It’s what we would be… on vacation. It’s not just doing things slowly, it’s doing things more spontaneously. I lose track of whatever schedule I had intended to follow when something comes up.
It’s taking advantage of the moments in the day when the sun comes out to be outside. It’s taking advantage of passing someone on the street and stopping to chat. It’s dropping everything to watch the sun set. It’s spending an afternoon basking alternately in desire, pleasure and satisfaction. It’s beating the rain to the pool and floating happily but it’s also standing in the rain and feeling it instantly cool the surrounding air. It’s taking time to take pictures.
It’s having nowhere else to be but exactly where I am in this moment.
And it’s experiencing and appreciating the sensation of joy at being present in this very moment.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Costa Rica 10.11.09
We are haunted by an ideal life, and it is because we have within us the beginning of the possibility of it. - Phillips Brooks
YOU, IN COSTA RICA
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We will joke about Match.com descriptions of ourselves enjoying “long walks on the beach.” We will hop away from the waves if they lap too closely. We will come to the realization that if a person can’t be happy here, it might not be within his or her grasp anywhere. We will walk from one far end of the small beach to the other and back again and then we will climb on the rocks and then we will strip down to our bathing suits, set our towels on the furthest possible ledge and we will jump in and swim to the beach that is inaccessible on foot.
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We will swim out of the cove and wrap up in our towels so that we don’t get our clothes wet and we will walk back down the beach to Diving Safari’s where we’ll pick up our S.C.U.B.A. gear and go to the boat. We will sail out around Monkey Rock and head to Catalina Island where we will dive. We’ll get back in time to meet the bus and we will watch the sun set over the ocean while we drink cocktails by the pool and do 6th grade math homework.
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We will put on our Costa Rican perfume and we will eat ceviche and arroz con pollo for dinner.
We will go to Tamarindo and take surfing lessons.
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We will go to the Playa Panama and body surf. We will take the kayaks around the peninsula and watch the sun set. We will learn to snorkel. We will go to the National Park and see monkeys and birds and snakes and take pictures. You will make fun of me for ogling the pool boy, not because he is so young, but because we are so, so old. We will play pool. We will go hiking. We will see a volcano spurt fire and ash. We will fish from a boat in the middle of the ocean and joke about the suicidal flying fish that are jumping near the boat and seem like they want to jump in. We will watch for dolphins and whales. We will play in a waterfall and wonder at how any one place can be so utterly perfect and not be heaven. We will decide maybe it is. We will decide Heaven needs calorie-free cheese cake.
And we will be gluttonous, not content to enjoy just these moments alone, but will instead fantasize about moving here and being beach bums and never going home.
But it will be true.
Volunteering at the Vet Clinic, walking through the real Costa Rica, Juxtaposition --- the Happiest Place with extreme poverty on Earth
We are over the hump. We have been here for 5 weeks and will be in Denver to work in 3. Kassidy is happy about that, but she’s also happy here. I’m not allowed to go into detail. But there is a boy. And he talked to her. Living here feels mostly normal now and I am relieved of the stress of being told every morning and every evening that she wants to go home. For that, the boy is on my daily gratitude list.
Yesterday, Kassidy volunteered at the spay and neuter clinic that comes into Playa del Coco once a month. I walked to the gym from there. Gross stuff is really not my thing. They put all the dogs under on the floor of the school at the same time and while the vet goes around neutering and spaying them, the volunteers follow cleaning their ears, removing ticks, spraying flea and tick treatment on them, spraying and cleaning their wounds and comforting them as they come out from anesthetic. Kassidy said she felt like a real vet. Most of the volunteers speak English, but most of the people who bring their dogs to the clinic speak only Spanish, so Kassidy became the translator. Seriously. Adult volunteers would bring her over to use her limited Spanish to explain how long the wait would be and what they would need to do to take care of the dogs when they took them home. She called me at the gym asking to take one of the puppies home.
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Someone found one on the beach this morning and brought it in. It’s something crossed with a Chihuahua, so it’s very small. She can fit it in her carry on. She can take it home. It can live with her dad!
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We returned the rental car and are now on foot. The gym is approximately 20 kilometers from here. Not walk-able. Not bike-able. But, I have found a couple of work-out buddies and car pool in with them until I solve the problem. I am quickly learning that while it is possible to live without a car in Playa del Coco, it is not possible when you live in Hermosa. There is a 7-11 size market, but no grocery store. There is a gym, but it has 3 machines and 2 of them don’t work. Right now, I’m not terribly concerned because I can walk to the beach from here. 9 minutes down the driveway. 10 more minutes to the beach. Once I get there, finding milk doesn’t seem too terribly urgent. Janet is checking on some rental car companies that she says won’t rip us off. She will call “ahorita.” Mmhmm.
Friday night we had some neighbors over for dinner. Faith and John. I can feel myself being drawn in, like water rises to its own level. There is a school in Playa Panama that they help support. They want to send 25 additional children to school next year, so they need to raise $5000.00 to build an additional room onto the school house and then they need to raise money for uniforms, shoes and textbooks for each of those children.
I just can’t… I can’t clean ear wax out of a stray dog’s ear. I can’t remove ticks and soak them in alcohol. I so admire Kassidy for having so much compassion for animals that she wants to take them home and that working on them makes her “feel like a vet.” But I have an over-active gag reflex. =) But I can do schools.
Schools are free here, but uniforms, shoes and texts are required. Many of the kids here don’t go to school because that stands in the way every year. I’m going down this week. I’ll take pictures.
Being on foot has given me the opportunity to SEE more than I did before. There are monkeys in the trees on our driveway. There are more houses and businesses on each street than I noticed before. There are people walking on the street who wave and say, “¿Como amaneció?”
I translate this in my head every time because it seems so funny and I have no idea what the response SHOULD be. How did you wake up? The answer is “bien” – (well). I think it might be something along the lines of “How did you sleep?” but if you think about it, “How did you wake up?” is more important. As opposed to, say, not waking up.
I generally stammer through my answer to this question because it always catches me off guard and I get distracted by trying to remember exactly how I did wake up this morning.
Anyway… back to the point. While walking from the elementary school (escuela) in Playa del Coco (a very, very hot connection of outdoor classrooms made of brick with holes in it to keep it cooler, but not real walls) to the gym about 15 minutes away, I passed fruit stands and a panaderia (bakery) and a rooster just hanging out at the side of the road.
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An old man in the panaderia said I was pretty and that I had a good body and asked everyone else in the store to agree. I’m fairly certain that he began thinking he was talking behind my back and that everyone would get a good laugh out of him talking about the gringa. When I responded in Spanish, he said, “¿Hablo bien o hable mal?” which means literally, “Do I speak well or do I speak poorly” but means, “Am I right or am I wrong?” I told him he was right and thanked him. =) One of those lovely situations without a good answer. But I was on my way to the gym, so it was cool to walk to the gym in a “good body.”
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I walked past the gym to the beach, about 10 minutes further because… I don’t know if you knew this… but there’s a beach here. And I like it. Walked a little on the beach before going to the gym and tried to go to the massage place to make an appointment. $29 massages if you buy 10. I had spoken with the owner only last week. The office is closed. The phone number is disconnected. I called the second number on the door. A woman answers and says the business has been closed down by the police. Nice. Moments away from giving away $290 to a business that immigration shut down. Let this be a lesson to you, Americans. You can not run a business in Costa Rica on a passport.
The word that came to mind on this walk was “juxtaposition.” There is a sign for resort condominiums next to, literally, a one room shack made of scrap wood and corrugated metal. There are beautiful houses with swimming pools – empty swimming pools and abandoned houses. My experience in other countries has been of segregation. The poor and the rich live in separate neighborhoods. Here, there are nice houses and even resort condominiums in gated communities next door to dilapidated houses. Many of the houses have bars over the windows and the doors and even enclosing their patios.
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On our way home we see a man carrying two Dorado (Mahi Mahi). He holds them in large plastic bags by the tails, holding them aloft so they don’t hit the ground. They stretch from his shoulder to the ground, easily. I can buy one for probably 5000 colones (double it to make $10 and then reduce by 15%, so about $8.50), and I would… if I knew how to clean a fish.
This level of poverty has a normality to it, too. There is an article in a local magazine that says that there was a survey done all over the world assessing where the “Happiest Place on Earth” is, and it’s Costa Rica. They are mostly on bikes. If I lived in Coco, I would definitely use one for all transportation. But in Hermosa, we are in an enormous valley and I only see the mountain bikers in spandex riding them. Anyone else on a bike walks the bike up the hills. The pace of this place is slow and happy. There is music coming from some of the houses. There are roosters crowing from multiple houses. I feel out of place, but still, no one really seems to notice me or care that I am walking through their neighborhood. There is no obvious need for help as there is in Mexico. No one is begging. No one looks miserable or hungry (except the stray dogs). No one appears to need anything. This is where I want to shop. There is a fish market around the corner, a bakery, a farmer’s market. I buy a banana for 30 colones and receive change from my 100 colones that is no longer valid in Costa Rica. The government is asking that all of the small silver coins be returned to the banks. I imagine this will happen with pennies someday, too.
Funny thing, too. We went to the beach at Ocotal a couple of weeks ago and even took pictures and posted them. Turns out… that wasn’t Ocotal. We turned right instead of left and came back to the far end of Playa del Coco. We went to Ocotal yesterday. Nice beach. We’ll go back and re-publicize for it when we have a car again.
I LIKE it here. I try to have a daily rhythm and build habits, but each day is different and unpredictable because no one does what they say they will do when they say they will do it, so we are beholden to some external rhythm instead.
White Water Rafting, Poverty, Prisons, drought
Since I last wrote, I went White Water Rafting. I’m going to let the Facebook photo album and narration tell that story.
What I learned on the way, though, is that we were between two volcanoes and that each was in a separate biosphere. We were on the edge of a rain forest. As we drove from Liberia toward San Jose, we passed taxis that were waiting for the arrival of busses from San Jose. It was a Sunday and Sunday is visiting day at the prison in Liberia. There are 600 prisoners there.
On this Sunday (last Sunday) there is an article in the paper about starvation in Guatemala. We talk about the difference between Guatemala and Costa Rica. There is poverty here, but not misery. The government feeds the poor people. I learn later that this is a myth and there are plenty of homes here with absolutely no food in them. Guanacaste is the poorest region in Costa Rica, but also usually has the most tourists. Tourism is THE industry in Costa Rica. The paper this week also said that tourism is down 40% from this time last year. The lack of rain in this rainy season is killing the crops. This will be a very bad year for Costa Rica. I cannot spend this year oblivious on my veranda over-looking the ocean, and I know that. I will find a balance between using this opportunity to overcome my fears and live a life I never thought was possible when I was a little girl and also finding out if there is any knowledge or skill I have accumulated so far in my life that can be helpful here.
S.C.U.B.A, snorkeling, rumors
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SYNOPSIS: You, in Costa Rica; Volunteering at the Vet Clinic, walking through the real Costa Rica, Juxtaposition --- the Happiest Place with extreme poverty on Earth; White Water Rafting, Poverty, Prisons, drought; S.C.U.B.A, snorkeling, rumors. Things are better. Kassidy is adjusting. We’re trying new things. We’re started volunteering. The creamy filling inside of the real Costa Rica seems to be both happiness and also severe poverty.
YOU, IN COSTA RICA
When you come to Costa Rica I will wake you up in the morning and we will walk 9 minutes down the hill to wait for the school bus. We will walk away as it approaches to avoid embarrassing Kassidy as she boards. We will walk 10 more minutes to the beach and we will walk on the beach and look at the footprints in the sand while we walk. Some with sneaker patterns, some with toes, some with paws. We will walk and watch the wave patterns in the sand.
We will joke about Match.com descriptions of ourselves enjoying “long walks on the beach.” We will hop away from the waves if they lap too closely. We will come to the realization that if a person can’t be happy here, it might not be within his or her grasp anywhere. We will walk from one far end of the small beach to the other and back again and then we will climb on the rocks and then we will strip down to our bathing suits, set our towels on the furthest possible ledge and we will jump in and swim to the beach that is inaccessible on foot. 
We will swim in the still, clear ocean water and we will wish we knew how to order room service to the hidden cove so that we could have a cup of coffee on the beach.
We will swim out of the cove and wrap up in our towels so that we don’t get our clothes wet and we will walk back down the beach to Diving Safari’s where we’ll pick up our S.C.U.B.A. gear and go to the boat. We will sail out around Monkey Rock and head to Catalina Island where we will dive. We’ll get back in time to meet the bus and we will watch the sun set over the ocean while we drink cocktails by the pool and do 6th grade math homework.
We will put on our Costa Rican perfume and we will eat ceviche and arroz con pollo for dinner.
We will go to Tamarindo and take surfing lessons.
We will go to the Playa Panama and body surf. We will take the kayaks around the peninsula and watch the sun set. We will learn to snorkel. We will go to the National Park and see monkeys and birds and snakes and take pictures. You will make fun of me for ogling the pool boy, not because he is so young, but because we are so, so old. We will play pool. We will go hiking. We will see a volcano spurt fire and ash. We will fish from a boat in the middle of the ocean and joke about the suicidal flying fish that are jumping near the boat and seem like they want to jump in. We will watch for dolphins and whales. We will play in a waterfall and wonder at how any one place can be so utterly perfect and not be heaven. We will decide maybe it is. We will decide Heaven needs calorie-free cheese cake. And we will be gluttonous, not content to enjoy just these moments alone, but will instead fantasize about moving here and being beach bums and never going home.
And when you ask me what I do when I walk the beach alone, I will tell you that I think about how fun it will be when you’re here and I plan imaginary days in which I get to show you the things I think you’ll like. And you’ll laugh and say, “Yeah, right.”
But it will be true.
Volunteering at the Vet Clinic, walking through the real Costa Rica, Juxtaposition --- the Happiest Place with extreme poverty on Earth
We are over the hump. We have been here for 5 weeks and will be in Denver to work in 3. Kassidy is happy about that, but she’s also happy here. I’m not allowed to go into detail. But there is a boy. And he talked to her. Living here feels mostly normal now and I am relieved of the stress of being told every morning and every evening that she wants to go home. For that, the boy is on my daily gratitude list.
Yesterday, Kassidy volunteered at the spay and neuter clinic that comes into Playa del Coco once a month. I walked to the gym from there. Gross stuff is really not my thing. They put all the dogs under on the floor of the school at the same time and while the vet goes around neutering and spaying them, the volunteers follow cleaning their ears, removing ticks, spraying flea and tick treatment on them, spraying and cleaning their wounds and comforting them as they come out from anesthetic. Kassidy said she felt like a real vet. Most of the volunteers speak English, but most of the people who bring their dogs to the clinic speak only Spanish, so Kassidy became the translator. Seriously. Adult volunteers would bring her over to use her limited Spanish to explain how long the wait would be and what they would need to do to take care of the dogs when they took them home. She called me at the gym asking to take one of the puppies home.
Someone found one on the beach this morning and brought it in. It’s something crossed with a Chihuahua, so it’s very small. She can fit it in her carry on. She can take it home. It can live with her dad!
We returned the rental car and are now on foot. The gym is approximately 20 kilometers from here. Not walk-able. Not bike-able. But, I have found a couple of work-out buddies and car pool in with them until I solve the problem. I am quickly learning that while it is possible to live without a car in Playa del Coco, it is not possible when you live in Hermosa. There is a 7-11 size market, but no grocery store. There is a gym, but it has 3 machines and 2 of them don’t work. Right now, I’m not terribly concerned because I can walk to the beach from here. 9 minutes down the driveway. 10 more minutes to the beach. Once I get there, finding milk doesn’t seem too terribly urgent. Janet is checking on some rental car companies that she says won’t rip us off. She will call “ahorita.” Mmhmm.
Friday night we had some neighbors over for dinner. Faith and John. I can feel myself being drawn in, like water rises to its own level. There is a school in Playa Panama that they help support. They want to send 25 additional children to school next year, so they need to raise $5000.00 to build an additional room onto the school house and then they need to raise money for uniforms, shoes and textbooks for each of those children.
I just can’t… I can’t clean ear wax out of a stray dog’s ear. I can’t remove ticks and soak them in alcohol. I so admire Kassidy for having so much compassion for animals that she wants to take them home and that working on them makes her “feel like a vet.” But I have an over-active gag reflex. =) But I can do schools.
Schools are free here, but uniforms, shoes and texts are required. Many of the kids here don’t go to school because that stands in the way every year. I’m going down this week. I’ll take pictures.
Being on foot has given me the opportunity to SEE more than I did before. There are monkeys in the trees on our driveway. There are more houses and businesses on each street than I noticed before. There are people walking on the street who wave and say, “¿Como amaneció?”
I translate this in my head every time because it seems so funny and I have no idea what the response SHOULD be. How did you wake up? The answer is “bien” – (well). I think it might be something along the lines of “How did you sleep?” but if you think about it, “How did you wake up?” is more important. As opposed to, say, not waking up.
I generally stammer through my answer to this question because it always catches me off guard and I get distracted by trying to remember exactly how I did wake up this morning.
Anyway… back to the point. While walking from the elementary school (escuela) in Playa del Coco (a very, very hot connection of outdoor classrooms made of brick with holes in it to keep it cooler, but not real walls) to the gym about 15 minutes away, I passed fruit stands and a panaderia (bakery) and a rooster just hanging out at the side of the road.
I walked past the gym to the beach, about 10 minutes further because… I don’t know if you knew this… but there’s a beach here. And I like it. Walked a little on the beach before going to the gym and tried to go to the massage place to make an appointment. $29 massages if you buy 10. I had spoken with the owner only last week. The office is closed. The phone number is disconnected. I called the second number on the door. A woman answers and says the business has been closed down by the police. Nice. Moments away from giving away $290 to a business that immigration shut down. Let this be a lesson to you, Americans. You can not run a business in Costa Rica on a passport.
On our way home we see a man carrying two Dorado (Mahi Mahi). He holds them in large plastic bags by the tails, holding them aloft so they don’t hit the ground. They stretch from his shoulder to the ground, easily. I can buy one for probably 5000 colones (double it to make $10 and then reduce by 15%, so about $8.50), and I would… if I knew how to clean a fish.
This level of poverty has a normality to it, too. There is an article in a local magazine that says that there was a survey done all over the world assessing where the “Happiest Place on Earth” is, and it’s Costa Rica. They are mostly on bikes. If I lived in Coco, I would definitely use one for all transportation. But in Hermosa, we are in an enormous valley and I only see the mountain bikers in spandex riding them. Anyone else on a bike walks the bike up the hills. The pace of this place is slow and happy. There is music coming from some of the houses. There are roosters crowing from multiple houses. I feel out of place, but still, no one really seems to notice me or care that I am walking through their neighborhood. There is no obvious need for help as there is in Mexico. No one is begging. No one looks miserable or hungry (except the stray dogs). No one appears to need anything. This is where I want to shop. There is a fish market around the corner, a bakery, a farmer’s market. I buy a banana for 30 colones and receive change from my 100 colones that is no longer valid in Costa Rica. The government is asking that all of the small silver coins be returned to the banks. I imagine this will happen with pennies someday, too.
Funny thing, too. We went to the beach at Ocotal a couple of weeks ago and even took pictures and posted them. Turns out… that wasn’t Ocotal. We turned right instead of left and came back to the far end of Playa del Coco. We went to Ocotal yesterday. Nice beach. We’ll go back and re-publicize for it when we have a car again.
I LIKE it here. I try to have a daily rhythm and build habits, but each day is different and unpredictable because no one does what they say they will do when they say they will do it, so we are beholden to some external rhythm instead.
White Water Rafting, Poverty, Prisons, drought
Since I last wrote, I went White Water Rafting. I’m going to let the Facebook photo album and narration tell that story.
What I learned on the way, though, is that we were between two volcanoes and that each was in a separate biosphere. We were on the edge of a rain forest. As we drove from Liberia toward San Jose, we passed taxis that were waiting for the arrival of busses from San Jose. It was a Sunday and Sunday is visiting day at the prison in Liberia. There are 600 prisoners there.
On this Sunday (last Sunday) there is an article in the paper about starvation in Guatemala. We talk about the difference between Guatemala and Costa Rica. There is poverty here, but not misery. The government feeds the poor people. I learn later that this is a myth and there are plenty of homes here with absolutely no food in them. Guanacaste is the poorest region in Costa Rica, but also usually has the most tourists. Tourism is THE industry in Costa Rica. The paper this week also said that tourism is down 40% from this time last year. The lack of rain in this rainy season is killing the crops. This will be a very bad year for Costa Rica. I cannot spend this year oblivious on my veranda over-looking the ocean, and I know that. I will find a balance between using this opportunity to overcome my fears and live a life I never thought was possible when I was a little girl and also finding out if there is any knowledge or skill I have accumulated so far in my life that can be helpful here.
S.C.U.B.A, snorkeling, rumors
I also walked across the street to Diving Safaris and got in the pool with all of the scuba diving equipment on. I have the certification materials and after 3 more hours in the pool, taking a number of tests and doing 4 ocean dives, I will be certified and will be ready to go again. If you’ve done this or snorkeling before, you know that the biggest obstacle to overcome is the feeling that you are not supposed to be able to breathe underwater and will breathe in water and die. If it weren’t for the people who said they were coming and want to go scuba diving, I don’t think I’d be doing this… but…. I’ll be ready for you.
We are going down to Diving Safaris today to rent snorkeling equipment. I may need to add an underwater camera to my list of things to bring back from the U.S.
The woman who has given us a couple of rides into Playa del Coco to go to the gym and volunteer at the clinic told us yesterday that it’s a very small community here and everyone knows everyone else’s business. The only way to really get bad rumors started about you, though, is if you start hanging out with the Ticos. I am horrified. Seriously? Why? Why? Why would you COME here and then only hang out with other ex-pats????? To work on your English?
Let the rumor mill start grinding.
Monday, September 28, 2009
HOW TO ACCESS PICTURES
First Costa Rica album:
http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2338851013/a=97496915_97496915/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
September 25th album
http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2393215013/a=97496915_97496915/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
September 28 album:
http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2415016013/a=97496915_97496915/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2338851013/a=97496915_97496915/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
September 25th album
http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2393215013/a=97496915_97496915/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
September 28 album:
http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2415016013/a=97496915_97496915/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
CR 09.29.09 Monday 9:30am The taste of fear loosening my heart
“I will not die an unlived life. I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire. I choose to inhabit my days, to allow my living to open me, to make me less afraid, more accessible, to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise. I choose to risk my significance; to live so that which comes to me as seed goes to the next as blossom and that which comes to me as blossom, goes on as fruit."
~ Dawna Markova
SYNOPSIS: Preface; Jet-skiing with Kassidy, exploring a cave, seeing a whale; our first dinner party; a love letter.
PREFACE:
I am in the middle of the ocean with Kassidy. We do not have life jackets. I know that it is crucial that we not panic and that she not grab on to me for support. I know that it is crucial that we not panic when something touches our legs. It’s some kind of fish. There are a lot of them. We must not think about what kind. We swim in the direction of the nearest boat, a long way off, and hope it sees us before it pulls away.
When I wake up, I cannot go back to sleep. I lay there thinking about not being able to touch the bottom…. About how big the ocean is… about how long we would be able to tread water…. About how I don’t like to put my face in the water when I swim. I think about the salty water. I lay there thinking about how I will avoid being in the middle of the ocean without a life jacket.
JET SKIING, BEACHES AND CAVES
I taste like salt. It’s in my skin. It sprays up around me and splashes my face and I taste it in my mouth. I also taste fear. It is fear caused my irrational thoughts that race through my mind uncontrolled.
I could tip over.
I could fall off.
I could hit a rock.
I could hit a shark.
It is this fear that has me humming along at a steady 16 miles per hour while my guide gestures for me to keep up.
I could get lost at sea.
But I’m in a bay, not in the open ocean, so the chances of that are minimal.
I finally get up to 44 miles per hour, and my guide says that anything over 30 is respectable. The more gas I give it, the smoother the ride is.
The sea gets choppier and the waves get higher and I am scared again. I am feeling the fear and doing it anyway… but I’m down to 22 miles per hour. I give it gas again and travel in the smoother wake of the guide until the waves calm down and we speed up to 40 again. He is smiling. Kassidy is grinning. I want to take THIS picture: Kassidy travelling behind Nolberto in a life jacket. There’s no way I’m taking even one hand off of the handle bars to grab the camera from it’s water proof compartment, though. When we stop, she dives off the side without waiting for help climbing down so that she can float in her life jacket on the beach instead of swimming.
She is giggling. We call her an octopus as she wraps her arms and legs around me and says, “Mommy, I don’t want to ride with you go too slow.”
Si vas a insultarme, Kassidy, hazlo en español, (If you’re going to insult me, do it in Spanish.) I say.
We swim on an empty beach on the thing that looks like mountains in the middle of the ocean. You can only get here by jet ski or boat or canoe or kayak. Nolberto takes us to his favorite beaches. You’ll remember Nolberto, who we met at the Sports Bar with Jose Cruz, and also as the salsa dancer who I danced with at Los Ranchitos. He is a beautiful man with a body built by activity. He swims gracefully, he runs like a life guard from BayWatch. His shirtless chest is magnificent. His arms are muscular. He makes me want to write him and to create a back story and front story and transform him into the lead character in a romance novel. But… perhaps this is a cultural misunderstanding and I need to be more open-minded… but this man exudes “player.” Kassidy likes him and trusts him and her instincts are impeccable. Mine are as poor as my sense of direction, so I rely on her to have that animal sense of the difference between quality people and the other kind. Seems like a good guy. But there’s really no way I needed THAT much help putting on a life jacket.
The water here is calm. Only small waves. We nearly surrounded by hills. There is… no joke… a golf course in the hills directly in front of us… that makes it difficult to pretend we are on a deserted island.
Kassidy is so very, very happy.
We ride again and go to a second beach with a cave. Kassidy is so hungry she wants to leave. A woman sitting on the beach over-hears our conversation and offers her rice. She heaps a plate of rice and beans on a plate for her and she is restored to her previously happy self and we explore the cave.
I want to know what’s on the other side.
Nolberto takes me to Miravista, the look-out point at the top of a long trail that we climb barefoot while Kassidy sits on a blanket and munches Costa Rican rice.
We get to the top and there is no place to stand. This look-out point is exactly that. After the point, there is a 100 foot drop off onto rocks. This is what’s on the other side of the cave. He steadies me while I breath and pull out the camera.
I could fall.
I could lose my balance and slide down the side.
I ignore the annoying motherly voice in my head that is always ruining my good time and enjoy the feeling in my chest of being totally and completely with laser focus in this moment.
I am scared. All the time. It’s a defect in my brain that causes me to worry about germs and sharks and quick sand and R.O.U.S.s. Quicksand is really very, very scary, by the way.
Fear creates presence. Over-coming it creates peace. It is not peaceful. But I am present. The contrast with my normal life is sharp.
On the way back, Kassidy and Nolberto stop and point in the direction of the back of a whale that rises from the water and we sit quietly, gently rocking, with engines off watching for it to rise again.
DINNER PARTY
At home that afternoon, after Kassidy has swum in the resort pool and I have re- translated the legal waiver I was asked to sign that made me laugh out loud (I was asked to manifest danger and accident and not to ride if I had an earring infection), we prepare for our first party.
People arrive in time to watch the sun set over the ocean (el atardecer). We leave the partially prepared food in the kitchen and sit outside with sangria and marvel at the pinks on the horizon while these experts from Playa Hermosa tells us stories of the history of land development. As I go back in to finish dinner, I am happy in a way that only people at our community dinners understand. My home is full of people again. I have finally figured out how to make the Big Salad here. I am so aware of wanting my people from to be here for dinner, too, but the feeling in my chest is the same. My home is loud. Music is playing. Kids are playing pool upstairs. More kids are in the swimming pool downstairs. The cleaning lady comes tomorrow, so I do not worry about the wet footprints by the door.
Over dinner we naturally separate into two groups because there isn’t a table big enough for all of us. Kassidy opts to sit with the Spanish speakers and I float back and forth. When an English speaker wanders into the Spanish group, the conversation gently shifts back into English.
When everyone leaves, Jose Cruz stays. He is the co-owner of Tours Papagayo (with Nolberto) who we met in the Sports Bar two weeks ago who so generously sent us on today’s adventure and secured permission from the manager for Kassidy to come and swim whenever she likes. He arranged with the guests at the party to go white water rafting next Sunday. We spend two and a half more hours talking in Spanish. He corrects what he calls minor errors. Kassidy lies down on the couch and immediately slams into a twitchy sleep that is fun for us to watch while we talk. The sound of Spanish is delicious. There is no other way to describe it. It’s like melted chocolate… only without the calories. In my mouth and in my ears it transports me to this happy, floating place. English bursts the bubble. He uses the occasional Spanglish term and I chide him. Suena fea. It sounds ugly. He is conducting an interview to find out if we are compatible. He is looking for a girlfriend he can see every night after work --- 7 days a week. I am incredulous. Every day? EVERY every day? He decides we are incompatible and should not marry.
A TRIBUTE TO THE PEOPLE I LOVE
(Read it… you’re definitely one of them)
I woke up this morning feeling loved after a conversation last night with a friend that filled me up. I looked in the mirror (it’s a special kind of mirror with built in self-criticism. Perhaps you have one?) and didn’t see what I usually see. I saw what my friend sees and I carried that with me all day. This is a character flaw of mine. If I were to express how much I love and appreciate the people in my life as often as I think about how much I love and appreciate them, it would be a constant stream and love would seep from my pores and pour from my mouth, but I don’t. And I am oblivious to the fact that I’m not using my words until someone uses theirs, and then I realize how lacking my expressions really are. My gratitude for you is boundless. I am aware of the part you played in my edification whether you birthed me, grew up with me, are my friend, are my acquaintance, are my sangha-friend, are my community dinner friend, are my CSYP friend, are my childbirth class friend, are my colleague, came to my workshop, took my class, came to my house in the middle of the night because I was crying and sad and pathetic, helped me move, care about my daughter, made peanut butter bars, made chocolate-covered strawberries, let me stay at your house, cleaned out my car, mowed my lawn, sat on my couch and drank wine with me into the wee hours, sat on my couch and drank tea with me into the wee hours, sat in my driveway and talked until we steamed up the windows, ate strawberries and whipped cream on my front porch and sprayed it into your mouth, cooked with me, ate with me, wrote to me, danced with me, asked me for help, called me to talk, ran away from your family with me to see a stupid movie so that you wouldn’t tie your children up with duct tape, taught salsa lessons in my living room, went to a concert with me, went camping with me, taught me something, learned something from me, went to high school with me or didn’t like me --- I am aware that it is the strength that comes from those memories, from those experiences, from that history that forms the steady base line of my life, and that causes the voice in my head that says, “give it more gas” to be louder than the one that says, “but I could fall off.”
~ Dawna Markova
SYNOPSIS: Preface; Jet-skiing with Kassidy, exploring a cave, seeing a whale; our first dinner party; a love letter.
PREFACE:
I am in the middle of the ocean with Kassidy. We do not have life jackets. I know that it is crucial that we not panic and that she not grab on to me for support. I know that it is crucial that we not panic when something touches our legs. It’s some kind of fish. There are a lot of them. We must not think about what kind. We swim in the direction of the nearest boat, a long way off, and hope it sees us before it pulls away.
When I wake up, I cannot go back to sleep. I lay there thinking about not being able to touch the bottom…. About how big the ocean is… about how long we would be able to tread water…. About how I don’t like to put my face in the water when I swim. I think about the salty water. I lay there thinking about how I will avoid being in the middle of the ocean without a life jacket.
JET SKIING, BEACHES AND CAVES
I taste like salt. It’s in my skin. It sprays up around me and splashes my face and I taste it in my mouth. I also taste fear. It is fear caused my irrational thoughts that race through my mind uncontrolled.
I could tip over.
I could fall off.
I could hit a rock.
I could hit a shark.
It is this fear that has me humming along at a steady 16 miles per hour while my guide gestures for me to keep up.
I could get lost at sea.
But I’m in a bay, not in the open ocean, so the chances of that are minimal.
I finally get up to 44 miles per hour, and my guide says that anything over 30 is respectable. The more gas I give it, the smoother the ride is.
The sea gets choppier and the waves get higher and I am scared again. I am feeling the fear and doing it anyway… but I’m down to 22 miles per hour. I give it gas again and travel in the smoother wake of the guide until the waves calm down and we speed up to 40 again. He is smiling. Kassidy is grinning. I want to take THIS picture: Kassidy travelling behind Nolberto in a life jacket. There’s no way I’m taking even one hand off of the handle bars to grab the camera from it’s water proof compartment, though. When we stop, she dives off the side without waiting for help climbing down so that she can float in her life jacket on the beach instead of swimming.
She is giggling. We call her an octopus as she wraps her arms and legs around me and says, “Mommy, I don’t want to ride with you go too slow.”
Si vas a insultarme, Kassidy, hazlo en español, (If you’re going to insult me, do it in Spanish.) I say.
We swim on an empty beach on the thing that looks like mountains in the middle of the ocean. You can only get here by jet ski or boat or canoe or kayak. Nolberto takes us to his favorite beaches. You’ll remember Nolberto, who we met at the Sports Bar with Jose Cruz, and also as the salsa dancer who I danced with at Los Ranchitos. He is a beautiful man with a body built by activity. He swims gracefully, he runs like a life guard from BayWatch. His shirtless chest is magnificent. His arms are muscular. He makes me want to write him and to create a back story and front story and transform him into the lead character in a romance novel. But… perhaps this is a cultural misunderstanding and I need to be more open-minded… but this man exudes “player.” Kassidy likes him and trusts him and her instincts are impeccable. Mine are as poor as my sense of direction, so I rely on her to have that animal sense of the difference between quality people and the other kind. Seems like a good guy. But there’s really no way I needed THAT much help putting on a life jacket.
The water here is calm. Only small waves. We nearly surrounded by hills. There is… no joke… a golf course in the hills directly in front of us… that makes it difficult to pretend we are on a deserted island.
Kassidy is so very, very happy.
We ride again and go to a second beach with a cave. Kassidy is so hungry she wants to leave. A woman sitting on the beach over-hears our conversation and offers her rice. She heaps a plate of rice and beans on a plate for her and she is restored to her previously happy self and we explore the cave.
I want to know what’s on the other side.
Nolberto takes me to Miravista, the look-out point at the top of a long trail that we climb barefoot while Kassidy sits on a blanket and munches Costa Rican rice.
We get to the top and there is no place to stand. This look-out point is exactly that. After the point, there is a 100 foot drop off onto rocks. This is what’s on the other side of the cave. He steadies me while I breath and pull out the camera.
I could fall.
I could lose my balance and slide down the side.
I ignore the annoying motherly voice in my head that is always ruining my good time and enjoy the feeling in my chest of being totally and completely with laser focus in this moment.
I am scared. All the time. It’s a defect in my brain that causes me to worry about germs and sharks and quick sand and R.O.U.S.s. Quicksand is really very, very scary, by the way.
Fear creates presence. Over-coming it creates peace. It is not peaceful. But I am present. The contrast with my normal life is sharp.
On the way back, Kassidy and Nolberto stop and point in the direction of the back of a whale that rises from the water and we sit quietly, gently rocking, with engines off watching for it to rise again.
DINNER PARTY
At home that afternoon, after Kassidy has swum in the resort pool and I have re- translated the legal waiver I was asked to sign that made me laugh out loud (I was asked to manifest danger and accident and not to ride if I had an earring infection), we prepare for our first party.
People arrive in time to watch the sun set over the ocean (el atardecer). We leave the partially prepared food in the kitchen and sit outside with sangria and marvel at the pinks on the horizon while these experts from Playa Hermosa tells us stories of the history of land development. As I go back in to finish dinner, I am happy in a way that only people at our community dinners understand. My home is full of people again. I have finally figured out how to make the Big Salad here. I am so aware of wanting my people from to be here for dinner, too, but the feeling in my chest is the same. My home is loud. Music is playing. Kids are playing pool upstairs. More kids are in the swimming pool downstairs. The cleaning lady comes tomorrow, so I do not worry about the wet footprints by the door.
Over dinner we naturally separate into two groups because there isn’t a table big enough for all of us. Kassidy opts to sit with the Spanish speakers and I float back and forth. When an English speaker wanders into the Spanish group, the conversation gently shifts back into English.
When everyone leaves, Jose Cruz stays. He is the co-owner of Tours Papagayo (with Nolberto) who we met in the Sports Bar two weeks ago who so generously sent us on today’s adventure and secured permission from the manager for Kassidy to come and swim whenever she likes. He arranged with the guests at the party to go white water rafting next Sunday. We spend two and a half more hours talking in Spanish. He corrects what he calls minor errors. Kassidy lies down on the couch and immediately slams into a twitchy sleep that is fun for us to watch while we talk. The sound of Spanish is delicious. There is no other way to describe it. It’s like melted chocolate… only without the calories. In my mouth and in my ears it transports me to this happy, floating place. English bursts the bubble. He uses the occasional Spanglish term and I chide him. Suena fea. It sounds ugly. He is conducting an interview to find out if we are compatible. He is looking for a girlfriend he can see every night after work --- 7 days a week. I am incredulous. Every day? EVERY every day? He decides we are incompatible and should not marry.
A TRIBUTE TO THE PEOPLE I LOVE
(Read it… you’re definitely one of them)
I woke up this morning feeling loved after a conversation last night with a friend that filled me up. I looked in the mirror (it’s a special kind of mirror with built in self-criticism. Perhaps you have one?) and didn’t see what I usually see. I saw what my friend sees and I carried that with me all day. This is a character flaw of mine. If I were to express how much I love and appreciate the people in my life as often as I think about how much I love and appreciate them, it would be a constant stream and love would seep from my pores and pour from my mouth, but I don’t. And I am oblivious to the fact that I’m not using my words until someone uses theirs, and then I realize how lacking my expressions really are. My gratitude for you is boundless. I am aware of the part you played in my edification whether you birthed me, grew up with me, are my friend, are my acquaintance, are my sangha-friend, are my community dinner friend, are my CSYP friend, are my childbirth class friend, are my colleague, came to my workshop, took my class, came to my house in the middle of the night because I was crying and sad and pathetic, helped me move, care about my daughter, made peanut butter bars, made chocolate-covered strawberries, let me stay at your house, cleaned out my car, mowed my lawn, sat on my couch and drank wine with me into the wee hours, sat on my couch and drank tea with me into the wee hours, sat in my driveway and talked until we steamed up the windows, ate strawberries and whipped cream on my front porch and sprayed it into your mouth, cooked with me, ate with me, wrote to me, danced with me, asked me for help, called me to talk, ran away from your family with me to see a stupid movie so that you wouldn’t tie your children up with duct tape, taught salsa lessons in my living room, went to a concert with me, went camping with me, taught me something, learned something from me, went to high school with me or didn’t like me --- I am aware that it is the strength that comes from those memories, from those experiences, from that history that forms the steady base line of my life, and that causes the voice in my head that says, “give it more gas” to be louder than the one that says, “but I could fall off.”
CR 092509 Friday, 1:48pm First Week of School
CR 092509 Friday, 1:48pm
“Enjoy yourself. These are the ‘good old days’ you’re going to miss years ahead. We can never go back again, that much is certain.” – B.J. Marshall
SYNOPSIS: My hair was not made for humidity; day to day routine; Kassidy’s first week at school; waiting for the muse,
THE POWER OF DELILAH IN MY SAMSON HAIR
Samson’s power was in his hair. Delilah’s power was seduction. My power of seduction is in my hair. Perhaps it’s an imaginary power, but my self-esteem is strongly rooted in my follicles. My hair is thick and big and because of the power of Mike, who turns my hair into a decorative feast that can only be replicated with mountains of product I am then convinced to buy, I have gotten away with carrying my 80’s hair for two more decades. Mike scrunches me upside down, hanging off the chair with contraptions and extensions. He sprays and gels and fluffs until I have been transformed into a regular person with magnificent hair. I then spend the next 2 months trying to duplicate his results without duplicating his efforts --- a task I am unwilling to take. One of the advantages of this hair cut is that I threw away my hair dryer and curling iron. A dollop of product and a comb, and I am out the door, with my sunglasses unattractively perched upon my head like a head band. Low maintenance. Great results. Like Samson, though, I have been stripped of my strength. My Delilah is the majesty of the ocean that called me here… and turned out to just be humidity.
No amount of or combination of product will tame what has become again what it probably always truly was --- 80s hair. This haircut is not appropriate for humidity. It broadens into a thick, shapeless form I have seen on some witches and once it has expanded to unreasonable proportions, begins to gather the moisture from the air until it is pasted to the back of my neck.
I am considering pig tails. I mentioned the possibility of responding to this situation the way men who are losing their hair do --- just shave it off. “No. You wouldn’t be pretty anymore.” Well, duh. That’s exactly what happened to Samson. You know… if Samson had been a woman. My wily feminine, seductive ways would be no more. I know you’re all worried about that.
My list of things to bring back from the states is growing: sunscreen, more non-DHT insect repellant, hummus powder from the health food store, energy bars, my ingredients for Grandma’s homemade soup, books.
DAY TO DAY ROUTINE
Our days go like this now: We get up at 6 and get ready for school. At 7 we walk down the monstrous hill to the school bus. We do not kiss goodbye in order to safeguard Kassidy’s reputation. It takes me 15 minutes to walk to the gym and another 5 to get the security guard to unlock the door. There is an old elliptical machine that doesn’t turn on, but works. There is a treadmill that stutters, causing the user to lurch forward in panic at odd intervals. There is a stationary bike. There are three sets of weight machines I haven’t entirely figured out how to use yet and there are two sets of free weights. I arrive in time to watch a season of Ally McBeal I somehow never saw. At 9 I walk back home, and then climb the monstrous hill back to the house. I think, “It can’t be worse than the incline. It can’t be worse than the incline.” It is a cobblestone paved mountain, and I am shuffling up it, tilting forward at an angle that is building valuable muscle in my ankles.
It is a little known fact that making coffee is not like riding a bicycle. You can forget how. Yesterday’s coffee was thick and sludgy. I offered it to my neighbor while he pointed out routes on a map of Costa Rica. He accepted the coffee and took a bite.
Today the coffee is watery and light brown. I think I’ve over-compensated.
I have a to do list of things that need to be done every day, like checking orders, and then I tackle the formidable to-do list. When I finish, I set aside time to write. I may need to flip those things so that writing gets to come first. Right now the formidable to do list has priority.
When Kassidy gets home from school, we strip and get into the pool as quickly as we can. We have about 90 minutes between when she gets home and sun set, and we don’t want to waste it.
The first week of school has been rocky. This was exam week, so she sat in on classes, but only took the exams in English. Maria hates Spanish and only wants to speak in English. She has read two of the Twilight books in English. She sits with Kassidy and translates for the other girls and Kassidy teaches them bad words in English. All of the 6th grade girls sit together at a long table every day, so she is saved from ostracization. But Thursday two other girls pull her away from Maria and warn Kassidy that she shouldn’t be friends with Maria. They court her into their own clique. She comes home worried about what to do. She is so focused on this that she forgets that she is mad at me and this morning threatened to run away. She had 200 colones (about 40 cents). She is furious with me because she was grounded the night before. She tells me about the boys fighting and the couple kissing on the bus. This is the first day I haven’t driven her 40 minutes into Liberia at 7am and 40 minutes back at 3pm. On those days we spoke in Spanish all the way to school so that she would be warmed up.
We spent Thursday night swimming in the pool and having dinner at the home of our new friends from Littleton, Colorado. The constant activity distracts her until she goes to bed. We watch the rest of the House premiere we have downloaded on Itunes and fast forward through the scene that catches us off guard and then we read A Separate Peace .before she goes to bed. She is worried about what to do about the girls, but for the first time since we arrived, she is not melancholy on her way to bed and I resolve to keep her busy from now on. This coming week is a week of vacation before the next term begins. The neighbor who drank the sludge has given us directions to the two active volcanoes. This is our plan for this week. We will see them on the way to San Jose where we will stay with friends who are living just outside of the city. Those same friends are coming to visit here this weekend.
Kassidy wants to go on a Horseback Riding tour which sounds vaguely amusing … if you like riding a horse, which I don’t really. Then she wants to go on a Canopy Tour. I have been trying to talk myself into it, but zip lining over 500 foot drops only sounds fun if you aren’t afraid of heights. As those who were present when I was pushed out of a plane at 10,000 feet can attest…I am not so good with heights. I am willing to do just about anything, though, to sell Kassidy on this place.
On the phone with her dad the other night she was telling him how much she couldn’t wait to show him things when he got here… monkeys and arroz con pollo… There must be things she loves if she thinks he will love them, right?
STREET ANIMALS
There is a big problem here with street dogs. On Saturday mornings there is a spay and neuter clinic in Playa del Coco that volunteers are needed for. We have agreed to go in in the morning and volunteer. I do have a plan.
Down by the gate at the security guard’s post, there are two mama cats. One mama, who is barely more than a kitten herself, lost her litter. The other mama has two left in her litter. The mamas are both nursing and caring for the babies. When they finish nursing we will take them all into the clinic to have them spayed.
There appears to be only one difference here between stray dogs and dogs with owners.: collars. Many dogs wander the streets with collars. They are owned, but still scavenge for food. Without exception they are gentle and disregard all human passerbyers. Myopic. I don’t think they even see us. In Liberia we saw several nursing or pregnant mamas. Funny that it didn’t occur to me that this would be as much a problem here as it was in Guanajuato.
IDEAS FOR BOOKS
Other than that I am spending my time brainstorming.
There are two book series – one for beginning adults --- and one for beginning children.
A young woman begins her first day of teaching. She is standing in the hall greeting the students, when one closes the door behind him. She reaches for the handle, but it is locked. Her keys are sitting on her desk. She has been locked out of her classroom by her students before even teaching her first period. She knocks. They do not answer. She walks across the hall to where her colleague has already started his first hour class and gestures for him to come outside. She wants to borrow his key. Don’t you have a key? Yes, but I’ve left them on my desk. Aren’t there kids in your classroom who could open the door? Yes. He looks over her shoulder assessing the situation and looks at her disapprovingly and condescendingly. He unlocks the door and stands looking at her students until they all take their seats under his gaze. She is humiliated and embarrassed. After school she walks to the faculty meeting and hears two older teachers talking about some rookie teacher who got locked out of her classroom.
A story from the point of view of one of the young boys who goes to the escuela here in Playa Hermosa. There are only 14 students. They are the sons and nephews of fishermen and fish from the boat most afternoons. Their grandparents used to own all this land, but sold it off piece by piece.
Romance in Spanish would be fun to write. =) But then… they say only to write what you know. ;-)
While I wait to gather enough ideas for the muse to strike, I am working on the last book, which is in its editing phase. Oddly enough, it’s about a boy who goes to Mexico and rescues stray dogs.
THE JOKER
Somehow in the last few days this has stopped feeling like an extraordinarily bad idea and we are falling into a routine.
Walking back from the gym today I spun the Ipod to “The Joker” and sang it on the way up the hill. At our going away party, Eric and Matt played it and Chad sang along and Stephanie was singing, “Do da do da do da do da dun dun da da dun dun da da dun dun” … and I recorded it. I have both of their blessing to release the video to the general public.
Today… I was that happy.
“Enjoy yourself. These are the ‘good old days’ you’re going to miss years ahead. We can never go back again, that much is certain.” – B.J. Marshall
SYNOPSIS: My hair was not made for humidity; day to day routine; Kassidy’s first week at school; waiting for the muse,
THE POWER OF DELILAH IN MY SAMSON HAIR
Samson’s power was in his hair. Delilah’s power was seduction. My power of seduction is in my hair. Perhaps it’s an imaginary power, but my self-esteem is strongly rooted in my follicles. My hair is thick and big and because of the power of Mike, who turns my hair into a decorative feast that can only be replicated with mountains of product I am then convinced to buy, I have gotten away with carrying my 80’s hair for two more decades. Mike scrunches me upside down, hanging off the chair with contraptions and extensions. He sprays and gels and fluffs until I have been transformed into a regular person with magnificent hair. I then spend the next 2 months trying to duplicate his results without duplicating his efforts --- a task I am unwilling to take. One of the advantages of this hair cut is that I threw away my hair dryer and curling iron. A dollop of product and a comb, and I am out the door, with my sunglasses unattractively perched upon my head like a head band. Low maintenance. Great results. Like Samson, though, I have been stripped of my strength. My Delilah is the majesty of the ocean that called me here… and turned out to just be humidity.
No amount of or combination of product will tame what has become again what it probably always truly was --- 80s hair. This haircut is not appropriate for humidity. It broadens into a thick, shapeless form I have seen on some witches and once it has expanded to unreasonable proportions, begins to gather the moisture from the air until it is pasted to the back of my neck.
I am considering pig tails. I mentioned the possibility of responding to this situation the way men who are losing their hair do --- just shave it off. “No. You wouldn’t be pretty anymore.” Well, duh. That’s exactly what happened to Samson. You know… if Samson had been a woman. My wily feminine, seductive ways would be no more. I know you’re all worried about that.
My list of things to bring back from the states is growing: sunscreen, more non-DHT insect repellant, hummus powder from the health food store, energy bars, my ingredients for Grandma’s homemade soup, books.
DAY TO DAY ROUTINE
Our days go like this now: We get up at 6 and get ready for school. At 7 we walk down the monstrous hill to the school bus. We do not kiss goodbye in order to safeguard Kassidy’s reputation. It takes me 15 minutes to walk to the gym and another 5 to get the security guard to unlock the door. There is an old elliptical machine that doesn’t turn on, but works. There is a treadmill that stutters, causing the user to lurch forward in panic at odd intervals. There is a stationary bike. There are three sets of weight machines I haven’t entirely figured out how to use yet and there are two sets of free weights. I arrive in time to watch a season of Ally McBeal I somehow never saw. At 9 I walk back home, and then climb the monstrous hill back to the house. I think, “It can’t be worse than the incline. It can’t be worse than the incline.” It is a cobblestone paved mountain, and I am shuffling up it, tilting forward at an angle that is building valuable muscle in my ankles.
It is a little known fact that making coffee is not like riding a bicycle. You can forget how. Yesterday’s coffee was thick and sludgy. I offered it to my neighbor while he pointed out routes on a map of Costa Rica. He accepted the coffee and took a bite.
Today the coffee is watery and light brown. I think I’ve over-compensated.
I have a to do list of things that need to be done every day, like checking orders, and then I tackle the formidable to-do list. When I finish, I set aside time to write. I may need to flip those things so that writing gets to come first. Right now the formidable to do list has priority.
When Kassidy gets home from school, we strip and get into the pool as quickly as we can. We have about 90 minutes between when she gets home and sun set, and we don’t want to waste it.
The first week of school has been rocky. This was exam week, so she sat in on classes, but only took the exams in English. Maria hates Spanish and only wants to speak in English. She has read two of the Twilight books in English. She sits with Kassidy and translates for the other girls and Kassidy teaches them bad words in English. All of the 6th grade girls sit together at a long table every day, so she is saved from ostracization. But Thursday two other girls pull her away from Maria and warn Kassidy that she shouldn’t be friends with Maria. They court her into their own clique. She comes home worried about what to do. She is so focused on this that she forgets that she is mad at me and this morning threatened to run away. She had 200 colones (about 40 cents). She is furious with me because she was grounded the night before. She tells me about the boys fighting and the couple kissing on the bus. This is the first day I haven’t driven her 40 minutes into Liberia at 7am and 40 minutes back at 3pm. On those days we spoke in Spanish all the way to school so that she would be warmed up.
We spent Thursday night swimming in the pool and having dinner at the home of our new friends from Littleton, Colorado. The constant activity distracts her until she goes to bed. We watch the rest of the House premiere we have downloaded on Itunes and fast forward through the scene that catches us off guard and then we read A Separate Peace .before she goes to bed. She is worried about what to do about the girls, but for the first time since we arrived, she is not melancholy on her way to bed and I resolve to keep her busy from now on. This coming week is a week of vacation before the next term begins. The neighbor who drank the sludge has given us directions to the two active volcanoes. This is our plan for this week. We will see them on the way to San Jose where we will stay with friends who are living just outside of the city. Those same friends are coming to visit here this weekend.
Kassidy wants to go on a Horseback Riding tour which sounds vaguely amusing … if you like riding a horse, which I don’t really. Then she wants to go on a Canopy Tour. I have been trying to talk myself into it, but zip lining over 500 foot drops only sounds fun if you aren’t afraid of heights. As those who were present when I was pushed out of a plane at 10,000 feet can attest…I am not so good with heights. I am willing to do just about anything, though, to sell Kassidy on this place.
On the phone with her dad the other night she was telling him how much she couldn’t wait to show him things when he got here… monkeys and arroz con pollo… There must be things she loves if she thinks he will love them, right?
STREET ANIMALS
There is a big problem here with street dogs. On Saturday mornings there is a spay and neuter clinic in Playa del Coco that volunteers are needed for. We have agreed to go in in the morning and volunteer. I do have a plan.
Down by the gate at the security guard’s post, there are two mama cats. One mama, who is barely more than a kitten herself, lost her litter. The other mama has two left in her litter. The mamas are both nursing and caring for the babies. When they finish nursing we will take them all into the clinic to have them spayed.
There appears to be only one difference here between stray dogs and dogs with owners.: collars. Many dogs wander the streets with collars. They are owned, but still scavenge for food. Without exception they are gentle and disregard all human passerbyers. Myopic. I don’t think they even see us. In Liberia we saw several nursing or pregnant mamas. Funny that it didn’t occur to me that this would be as much a problem here as it was in Guanajuato.
IDEAS FOR BOOKS
Other than that I am spending my time brainstorming.
There are two book series – one for beginning adults --- and one for beginning children.
A young woman begins her first day of teaching. She is standing in the hall greeting the students, when one closes the door behind him. She reaches for the handle, but it is locked. Her keys are sitting on her desk. She has been locked out of her classroom by her students before even teaching her first period. She knocks. They do not answer. She walks across the hall to where her colleague has already started his first hour class and gestures for him to come outside. She wants to borrow his key. Don’t you have a key? Yes, but I’ve left them on my desk. Aren’t there kids in your classroom who could open the door? Yes. He looks over her shoulder assessing the situation and looks at her disapprovingly and condescendingly. He unlocks the door and stands looking at her students until they all take their seats under his gaze. She is humiliated and embarrassed. After school she walks to the faculty meeting and hears two older teachers talking about some rookie teacher who got locked out of her classroom.
A story from the point of view of one of the young boys who goes to the escuela here in Playa Hermosa. There are only 14 students. They are the sons and nephews of fishermen and fish from the boat most afternoons. Their grandparents used to own all this land, but sold it off piece by piece.
Romance in Spanish would be fun to write. =) But then… they say only to write what you know. ;-)
While I wait to gather enough ideas for the muse to strike, I am working on the last book, which is in its editing phase. Oddly enough, it’s about a boy who goes to Mexico and rescues stray dogs.
THE JOKER
Somehow in the last few days this has stopped feeling like an extraordinarily bad idea and we are falling into a routine.
Walking back from the gym today I spun the Ipod to “The Joker” and sang it on the way up the hill. At our going away party, Eric and Matt played it and Chad sang along and Stephanie was singing, “Do da do da do da do da dun dun da da dun dun da da dun dun” … and I recorded it. I have both of their blessing to release the video to the general public.
Today… I was that happy.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
September 20th... no blog... just....
an advertisement for massage by the side of the road. With extra clarification in the fine print.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
CR091909 Saturday 8:09am
Friends feed each other’s spirits and dreams and hopes; they feed each other with the things a soul needs to live. – Glen Harrington-Hall
SYNOPSIS: Musings on middle school friendships, getting ready for school, meeting ex-pats from Colorado, mosquitoes, the boys at school notice Kassidy, Kassidy's love language. Spanish lessons.
BFFs
When I was 12 I had the best friends in the world. The friendships were volatile, but tightly bonded. We were what I imagine Kassidy and her friends are now. We had falling outs that were as dramatic as any adult break-up and we shared our hearts and our heartbreaks and teased each other and grew up together. We mourned when River Phoenix died because Stand By Me had been our theme. I can almost not think of a girl in junior high who I wasn’t close to at one time. When you go to school with the same people for so long in a small school at a time when your life is chaos and your emotions are so close to the surface and your friendships are made up of a series of inside jokes and rituals and memories, at some point you end up being partnered in a science lab with absolutely everyone. If I had left for a year, would that friendship have stayed as strong, or would they have closed the circle so that it was impossible to get back in? These are the kinds of questions that keep Kassidy awake at night and cause her to wake me up in the middle of the night and ask how many more weeks until we go home. It’s not that I don’t understand… it’s that I do.
SCHOOL SUPPLIES
We arrived 2 weeks ago today. After buying school uniforms, books and paying tuition, Kassidy is now enrolled in school. Uniforms are worn in all public and private schools in Costa Rica. All we still need today are black shoes. We will shoe shopping and go to a movie and then I really need to stop spending money. =)
EX-PATS FROM COLORADO ON THE BEACH
When we arrive at the beach to meet Patty and company we are significantly late, but Denise’s daughter Maggie is 11 and moved here in January with her family from Littleton. They swim together until all of the over-protective mothers decide to pull the kids out because of lightening. It’s the Friday afternoon ex-pat club. Chantelle’s dad tells us with all sincerity that if we want Kassidy to learn Spanish faster we should really try Berlitz. (!!!!!!!!) Yuppers.
Maggie and Kassidy talked for a while while they were swimming. Her mom, Denise, and I stood on the beach talking. Flying fish are leaping behind the girls while they play. Maggie is being homeschooled by a private teacher in Playa Panama. This may be a good choice for part of December and January to help her catch up on work from Colorado. The teacher teaches in English. Not a good choice for our overall goal, but facilitating a friendship with Maggie, who must have been equally reluctant to move, and leave her friends but has adjusted, is a stepping stone on the way. Their dad owns Palo Windows and Doors and commuted between Littleton and Playa Hermosa until the business got too busy this year and they all moved together.
WE FEED THE ANIMALS
It was almost like magic how the bugs came out precisely as the sun came down. I think the sun setting is like a warning sign to run. We were dancing and swatting, but in the dark, we were helpless prey. They sting when they bite and then start itching. We get home and assess the damage. Kassidy has three large welting bites. I have 19 on my legs and 1 on my arm. Barb, the owner of our house, calls bug spray “Costa Rican perfume.” The bugs, though, are directly proportionate to the rain. We’ve only been bitten on rainy days.
LOVE LANGUAGES
Kassidy’s love language is quality time; most definitely not physical touch. As she has gotten older, though, words of affirmation seem to feed her more. Since we’ve been here she has been very appreciative of gifts, particularly of food. She’s even noticed acts of service. I am the only person loving her, and she is lapping up all that she is given and withering when I can’t give enough. Last night we had a slumber party and stayed up eating popcorn and watching T.V. and cuddling on the couch. Yesterday when the principal went into the classroom to tell the students that there would be a new student on Monday two of the boys said, “Is that the girl wearing the crystal? We talked to her yesterday.” This puts a grin on Kassidy’s face. The boys noticed her. Cool. Last night she put the crystal back on. The boys had not talked to her. She was never not with me. We have no idea what they are talking about. Maybe they thought about it and re-wrote history. =) We spend all day every day together. We sing in the car when we’re driving. Last night we ate dinner in front of the T.V. because when you have spent every single moment of the last 2 weeks together there’s really no quality conversation left to have. I thought about how contrary that was to our normal routine and let it go. How much time could anyone really want to spend with me? She probably needed a break. =)
SPANISH LESSONS
All I have learned about Costa Rican culture and language today is that we have found ONLY 2% milk. There are no other options. We bought a gallon. We will never do that again, for the same reason we would never buy a gallon of ice cream. When the electricity goes off for a day, everything goes bad. I have almost a full gallon of sour milk in my fridge. I can’t remember what, but I think you can cook something with that.
Ooo… and if you need one of those cords that connects your wireless adaptor and your computer, when you go to the computer store it will be 15 minutes. They MAKE it. When we went to go buy school uniform pants, the store we walked into had seamstresses and a tailor. This is PRE-Wal-mart land. When you buy things you go to multiple places to make purchases one at a time.
What I learned from the ex-pats is that we need a “Denver list.” Oil of Olay, snorkeling masks (you can snorkel for free in one of the inlets, but everything in the touristy areas costs more), sunscreen, scissors (we haven’t found scissors here and they were $20 in the Maxi-Bodega), Chai.
The cost of living here seems to be about the same as the cost of living in Colorado Springs. I am cheap… so we’re living here the same way we live in Colorado Springs…attempting to live on as little as possible so that the excess can be saved for worthy expenses… like SCUBA diving and zip lining. We have switched all of our purchases to Costa Rican products as opposed to American already and we have converted all of our dollars into colones. If I could just get myself to stop buying books.
SYNOPSIS: Musings on middle school friendships, getting ready for school, meeting ex-pats from Colorado, mosquitoes, the boys at school notice Kassidy, Kassidy's love language. Spanish lessons.
BFFs
When I was 12 I had the best friends in the world. The friendships were volatile, but tightly bonded. We were what I imagine Kassidy and her friends are now. We had falling outs that were as dramatic as any adult break-up and we shared our hearts and our heartbreaks and teased each other and grew up together. We mourned when River Phoenix died because Stand By Me had been our theme. I can almost not think of a girl in junior high who I wasn’t close to at one time. When you go to school with the same people for so long in a small school at a time when your life is chaos and your emotions are so close to the surface and your friendships are made up of a series of inside jokes and rituals and memories, at some point you end up being partnered in a science lab with absolutely everyone. If I had left for a year, would that friendship have stayed as strong, or would they have closed the circle so that it was impossible to get back in? These are the kinds of questions that keep Kassidy awake at night and cause her to wake me up in the middle of the night and ask how many more weeks until we go home. It’s not that I don’t understand… it’s that I do.
SCHOOL SUPPLIES
We arrived 2 weeks ago today. After buying school uniforms, books and paying tuition, Kassidy is now enrolled in school. Uniforms are worn in all public and private schools in Costa Rica. All we still need today are black shoes. We will shoe shopping and go to a movie and then I really need to stop spending money. =)
EX-PATS FROM COLORADO ON THE BEACH
When we arrive at the beach to meet Patty and company we are significantly late, but Denise’s daughter Maggie is 11 and moved here in January with her family from Littleton. They swim together until all of the over-protective mothers decide to pull the kids out because of lightening. It’s the Friday afternoon ex-pat club. Chantelle’s dad tells us with all sincerity that if we want Kassidy to learn Spanish faster we should really try Berlitz. (!!!!!!!!) Yuppers.
Maggie and Kassidy talked for a while while they were swimming. Her mom, Denise, and I stood on the beach talking. Flying fish are leaping behind the girls while they play. Maggie is being homeschooled by a private teacher in Playa Panama. This may be a good choice for part of December and January to help her catch up on work from Colorado. The teacher teaches in English. Not a good choice for our overall goal, but facilitating a friendship with Maggie, who must have been equally reluctant to move, and leave her friends but has adjusted, is a stepping stone on the way. Their dad owns Palo Windows and Doors and commuted between Littleton and Playa Hermosa until the business got too busy this year and they all moved together.
WE FEED THE ANIMALS
It was almost like magic how the bugs came out precisely as the sun came down. I think the sun setting is like a warning sign to run. We were dancing and swatting, but in the dark, we were helpless prey. They sting when they bite and then start itching. We get home and assess the damage. Kassidy has three large welting bites. I have 19 on my legs and 1 on my arm. Barb, the owner of our house, calls bug spray “Costa Rican perfume.” The bugs, though, are directly proportionate to the rain. We’ve only been bitten on rainy days.
LOVE LANGUAGES
Kassidy’s love language is quality time; most definitely not physical touch. As she has gotten older, though, words of affirmation seem to feed her more. Since we’ve been here she has been very appreciative of gifts, particularly of food. She’s even noticed acts of service. I am the only person loving her, and she is lapping up all that she is given and withering when I can’t give enough. Last night we had a slumber party and stayed up eating popcorn and watching T.V. and cuddling on the couch. Yesterday when the principal went into the classroom to tell the students that there would be a new student on Monday two of the boys said, “Is that the girl wearing the crystal? We talked to her yesterday.” This puts a grin on Kassidy’s face. The boys noticed her. Cool. Last night she put the crystal back on. The boys had not talked to her. She was never not with me. We have no idea what they are talking about. Maybe they thought about it and re-wrote history. =) We spend all day every day together. We sing in the car when we’re driving. Last night we ate dinner in front of the T.V. because when you have spent every single moment of the last 2 weeks together there’s really no quality conversation left to have. I thought about how contrary that was to our normal routine and let it go. How much time could anyone really want to spend with me? She probably needed a break. =)
SPANISH LESSONS
All I have learned about Costa Rican culture and language today is that we have found ONLY 2% milk. There are no other options. We bought a gallon. We will never do that again, for the same reason we would never buy a gallon of ice cream. When the electricity goes off for a day, everything goes bad. I have almost a full gallon of sour milk in my fridge. I can’t remember what, but I think you can cook something with that.
Ooo… and if you need one of those cords that connects your wireless adaptor and your computer, when you go to the computer store it will be 15 minutes. They MAKE it. When we went to go buy school uniform pants, the store we walked into had seamstresses and a tailor. This is PRE-Wal-mart land. When you buy things you go to multiple places to make purchases one at a time.
What I learned from the ex-pats is that we need a “Denver list.” Oil of Olay, snorkeling masks (you can snorkel for free in one of the inlets, but everything in the touristy areas costs more), sunscreen, scissors (we haven’t found scissors here and they were $20 in the Maxi-Bodega), Chai.
The cost of living here seems to be about the same as the cost of living in Colorado Springs. I am cheap… so we’re living here the same way we live in Colorado Springs…attempting to live on as little as possible so that the excess can be saved for worthy expenses… like SCUBA diving and zip lining. We have switched all of our purchases to Costa Rican products as opposed to American already and we have converted all of our dollars into colones. If I could just get myself to stop buying books.
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